each as large as that of a common lamb, but sucked only with that of the left side. So far as I could learn, the organs of both were complete. It walked only on four legs, but had a fifth hanging down between the two necks, rather longer than the other four, and the bones and hoof were double, and had four claws; the concave side of it was turned upwards, and whenever the creature walked this leg moved up and down, as it seemed, spontaneously, and in a manner answerable to the other four; it had two tails, but no vent; it had also two distinct spines, but they met about five inches above the tail, and then divided again, but where they met were not as one entire spine, but as two adhering to each other. There were two sets of ribs, only those that met upwards, where the spine should regularly have been placed, were rather shorter than the other and it seemed that the bladebone belonging to the double leg that grew between the necks was larger than the rest, and seemed to be two bones but not entirely distinet; it had two hearts of equal size, lying over each other, almost like a St. Andrew's cross, or, as we should say in heraldry, saltire wise. There were two œsophagi and two asperæ arteriæ, four small lobes of lungs, but the two gullets were inserted into one common stomach. I am not master enough of the formation of ruminating animals to inform you further what was peculiar in this. We found nothing preternatural in the formation of the intestines, but the tails grew so near that the return of both seemed to point to one vent, though, as I observed, the anus was deficient. It had three kidneys, one of them very large in proportion to the other two, so that, I apprehend, there was a conjunction. I send you this account while the matter is fresh in my memory; and am,

Dear Sir, yours, &c.

P. DODDRIDGE.

FROM HENRY BAKER, ESQ., F. R. S.

DEAR SIR,

London, July 12th, 1748. I MUST depend on your good-nature to excuse my long silence, which I assure you has given me many an uneasy reflection. I can, indeed, truly plead the close attention my business requires, and the difficulty, and oftentimes the inconvenience of drawing my thoughts another way; especially at my beginning with new scholars who are deaf and dumb, of whom I have lately had two, who, with four I was before engaged to, and several for different impediments, who are continually going and coming, are sufficient to require all the abilities of a mind much more vigorous than mine. I might, I say, plead this and many other things in my excuse, but I rather choose to rely entirely on your goodness, which, I hope, will permit me to send together (what ought to have waited on you separately) my hearty thanks for your two most obliging letters, and for all the curious particulars contained therein; which I must beg the liberty of deferring to enter upon further till I shall enjoy the pleasure of your company at London. I must not, however, omit to express my obligation for Mr. Brown's extraordinary Dedication:* the mention of which has procured me a letter and poem of his from my good friend Dr. Miles, and also a Sermon preached at his funeral by Mr. Anthony Atkey, who gives therein a History of his Case; which is, in short, that upon the loss of a wife and son, he seemed at first to lose his reason, and became very melancholy. And from that time he imagined that God had gradually annihilated his thinking substance, and divested him entirely of con

* That to Queen Caroline, which is printed in the Adventurer, No. 88.

sciousness; so that, notwithstanding his retaining the human form and the power of speech, he had no more notion of what he said than a parrot. He continued thus ten years, during which time he wrote several learned books, and especially (within the two last years of his life) that Defence of Christianity for which he intended the dedication I received from you. I now inclose the letter and verses I was favoured with from Dr. Miles, and request you to return them, after you have taken a copy, have taken a copy, if you shall

choose to do so.

Mr. Folkes desires me to return your civilities, and when you come to town I shall hope to introduce you to him. In the meanwhile accept of every good wish, together with the utmost esteem and respect of,

MY DEAREST,

TO MRS. DODDRIDGE.

London, July 30, 1748. THE long letter which I inclose to Mr. Bunnyan, and send open for your perusal, prevents me from being able to answer that charming one which I received from the best of wives and of friends, by the last post, in the particular manner I could wish; but permit me most affectionately to thank you for it, and to assure you, that it was a great cordial to my heart. I can truly say there is nothing in the world which gives me so lively a relish of the remarkable deliverance I received on Monday, when I was within a hand's breadth of being lost, as the thought of the escape which you, my dearest, had from a calamity, which would, in those circumstances, have borne so hard upon you, and

the hope that my life is spared to make yours happier, than your love to me would permit it to be without me. I doubt not, but that as your prayers have long contributed to my safety and comfort, so they did, in that moment of extremity, greatly conduce to my deliverance. I bless God, I was not terrified with any amazement, and could cheerfully have acquiesced in whatsoever Providence had appointed.* I think I told you Mrs. Waugh is undertaking a fifth edition of The Rise and Progress, large octavo, though the fourth, in duodecimo, be not quite gone off; but she judges it proper to have them always ready in both sizes. The piece which Dr. Wishart has sent against Colonel Gardiner's Life, or rather, against the poor Author of it, is in London; and application was made yesterday to Mrs. Waugh to sell it, but she refused. I expect a great deal of virulence in it; but hope integrity and upright

The accident alluded to occurred on the Thames, when a boat, in which the Doctor had embarked, was nearly swamped. The water is so tempting and fatal in a variety of ways, that the reader will perhaps pardon a momentary digression, while I describe a little invention which may be the means of preserving the lives of persons in jeopardy, from the manly and salutary practice of bathing.

In accidents of this nature, although several persons are usually present, their efforts to recover the body in time are generally unavailing. In fact the struggles of the victim, in the act of sinking, even if there is no stream, remove him to a distance from the spot where he disappeared, which deceives the eye of a spectator.

When reflecting on these circumstances, it occurred to my mind, that if a small line, say a piece of whipcord, twelve feet long, had a ball of cork, painted white and about the size of an orange, fixed at one end, and at the other a cotton belt, made to buckle over the shoulders, and passing round one arm to prevent its slipping, it would, if worn by a person who sunk when bathing, not only immediately show where the body lay, but also furnish a safe and ready means of drawing it out of deep water.

This simple apparatus is so easily made, and at so little cost, that it may be expected that fathers, and schoolmasters, will insist upon its use, while the good sense of "the bold swimmer" will lead him to adopt the use of THE LIFE BUOY, which may preserve him if seized by cramp, and

will be no check to his amusement.

ness will protect me, and bear up my spirits, as well as my reputation, against all its venom. Many tokens of undeserved esteem do I receive; shall I wonder at some reproaches? God hath set the one over against the other, that I may neither be exalted nor dejected above measure; and I bless Him, I do find it in a sober and sweet equanimity. May I promote my Master's honour, and be found fit for his kingdom; and while I am on this side of it, may I have your love to delight me, your prudence to advise me; and may I be able to keep you free from any thing that would corrode and distress your tender, generous heart, and I shall be contented and thankful whatever may happen.

Saturday night.

I can conclude, my dearest, with telling you that I am now come to the conclusion of one of the most pleasant days I shall ever spend without you. After an hour's charming conversation with Lady Huntingdon and Mrs. Edwin, I preached in her family by her express desire, and met Colonel Gumley, who is really a second Colonel Gardiner. Such a monument of the power and sovereignty of Divine grace as, truly, I have hardly ever met with, since I was acquainted with his story. After dinner, the ladies entertained us with their voices, and a harpsichord, with which I was highly delighted; and I have stolen a hymn, which I steadfastly believe to be written by good Lady Huntingdon, and which I shall not fail to communicate to

you.

Lady Huntingdon is quite a mother to the poor; she visits them, and prays with them in their sickness; and they leave her their children for a legacy when they die, and she takes care of them. I was really astonished at the traces of religion I discovered in her and Mrs. Edwin, and cannot but glorify God for them. More cheerfulness I never saw