DAVY, SIR HUMPHRY, an English chemist and poet, born at Penzance, Cornwall, December 17, 1778; died in Geneva, Switzerland, May 29, 1829. He commenced the study of medicine in his native town, in 1795, but his attention was soon turned especially to chemistry. Before he had reached the age of twenty-three he was invited to London to become a lecturer on chemistry at the newly founded Royal Institution. His researches in chemistry, and the brilliancy of his lectures, form a striking chapter in the history of physical science. One of his most notable inventions was that of the "safety lamp" to be used in mines pervaded by the inflammable gas known as "fire damp." He was made a Knight in 1812, and a Baronet in 1818. In 1820 he succeeded Sir Joseph Banks as President of the Royal Society, and was annually reelected for seven successive years. Besides his more strictly scientific works, Sir Humphry wrote Salmonia, or Days of Fly-fishing (1828), and Consolations in Travel; or the Last Days of a Philosopher, composed during his last illness, and published after his death. His works were collected, with a Memoir (9 vols., 1839-40) by his brother Dr. JOHN DAVY (1791-1868), himself the author of several important works. Sir Humphry Davy possessed a highly poetic temperament. Coleridge says, indeed, that "if Davy had not been the first chemist, he probably would have been the first poet of his age." DROWNING FISHES. I believe that the vulgar opinion of anglers that fish are, as it were, drowned by the play of the rod and reel, is perfectly correct; though to apply the word "drowning" to an animal that lives in the water, is not quite a fit use of language. Fishes respire by passing waterwhich always holds common air in solution-through their gills, or bronchial membrane, by the use of a system of muscles surrounding the fauces, which occasion constant contractions and expansions, or opening or closing of this membrane; and the life of the fish is dependent on the process, in the same manner that a quadruped is, on respiring and expiring air. When a fish is hooked in the upper part of the mouth, by the strength of the rod applied as a lever to the line, it is scarcely possible for him to open the gills, as long as this force is exerted, particularly when he is moving in a rapid stream; and when he is hooked in the lower jaw, his mouth is kept closed by the same application of the strength of the rod, so that no aërated water can be inspired. Under these circumstances, he is quickly deprived of his vital forces; particularly when he exhausts his strength by moving in a rapid stream. A fish, hooked in a part of the mouth where the force of the rod will render its efforts to respire unavailing, is much in the same state as that of a deer caught round the neck by the lasso of a South American peon, who gallops forward, dragging his victim after him, which is killed by strangulation in a very short time. When fishes are hooked "foul," that is, on the outside of the body-as in the fins or tail-they will often fight for many hours; and in such cases, very large salmon are seldom caught, as they retain their power of breathing unimpaired; and if they do not exhaust themselves by violent muscular efforts, they may bid defiance to the temper and skill of the fisherman. A large salmon, hooked in the upper part of the mouth, in the cartilage or bone, will sometimes likewise fight for a long while, particularly if he keep in the deep and still parts of the river; for he is able to prevent the force of the hook, applied by the rod, from interfering with his respiration; and, by a powerful effort, can maintain his place, and continue to breathe, in spite of the exertions of the angler. A fish, in such a case, is said to be "sulky," and his instinct, or his sagacity, generally enables him to conquer his enemy. It is, however, rarely that fishes hooked in the mouth are capable of using freely the muscles subservient to respiration; and their powers are generally, sooner or later, destroyed by suffocation.-Salmonia. THE OFFICE OF PAIN. The laws of nature are all directed by Divine Wisdom for the purpose of preserving life, and increasing happiness. Pain seems in all cases to precede the mutilation or destruction of those organs which are essential to vitality, and for the end of preserving them; but the mere process of dying seems to be the falling into a deep slumber; and in animals, who have no fear of death dependent upon imagination, it can hardly be accompanied by very intense suffering. In the human being, moral and intellectual motives constantly operate in enhancing the fear of death, which, without these motives in a reasoning being, would probably become null, and the love of life be lost upon every slight occasion of pain or disgust. But imagination is creative with respect to both these passions, which, if they exist in animals, exist independent of reason, or as instincts. Pain seems intended by an all-wise Providence to prevent the dissolution of organs, and cannot follow their destruction. I know several instances in which the process of death has been observed, even to its termination by good philosophers; and the instances are worth repeating Dr. Cullen, when dying, is said to have faintly articulated to one of his intimates, "I wish I had the power of writing or speaking; for then I would describe to you how pleasant a thing it is to die." Dr. Black-worn out by age, and a disposition to pulmonary hemorrhage, which obliged him to live very low |