A publisher who pays much regard to usefulness and economy in reprints has put forth Buchan’s Domestic Medicine for something less than a crown, with a supplementary “Cholera Morbus, its history, symptoms, mode of treatment, antidotes,&c.”  By the way, we have often thought Buchan’s book like the Dead Sea:  you cannot fall into the latter without some of its water incrusting on you, and you cannot read Buchan without feeling an ache.  Its popularity is founded upon the hackneyed adage “the knowledge of a disease is half its cure.”  People will pore over its sea of calamities till they almost fall into the fire, or get scalded with the water from a kettle, and then turn to the Index, Scalds, page 326:  perhaps this is a good plan to test the practical value of a book, as the surgeon scalded two fingers and plunged one into turpentine and the other into spirits of wine to test their respective services in case of a scald.

Here too we may notice a cheap Companion to the Family Medicine Chest, with an alphabetical arrangement of Medicines, their properties, and plain rules for taking them; with the Cholera, of course, as a rider, and cautions respecting suspended animation and poisons.  The little shillingsworth is in its fifteenth edition, so that many thousand persons must have taken many million doses by its prescription, and in some cases become their own medicine chests, with this book as their companion.

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HERBERT’S COUNTRY PARSON, &c.

Readers who delight to slake their thirst for knowledge from the deep and pure wells of our olden literature will rejoice to hear of a cheap and elegant reprint of this beautiful little book.  Perchance some book-buyer need be told that the above is a book to live by—­an invaluable legacy of a parish priest to his brethren and the world.  The author George Herbert, was born in 1593, near Montgomery, in the castle that had been successively happy in the Herberts, as Isaak Walton observes, “a family that hath been blest with men of remarkable wisdom.”  Herbert was educated at Cambridge, where he obtained the friendship of “the great secretary of nature and all learning, Sir Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam,” who consulted Herbert “before he would expose any of his books to be printed, and dedicated a version of the Psalms to him as the best judge of divine poetry.”  Herbert was patronized by James I. who, for an elegant Latin oration, gave him a sinecure of 120_l_. a-year, for in those days the only Royal Society of Literature was in the palace; it is now among subjects, and too little in the Court.  Upon the death of James, Herbert’s Court hopes died also, and he betook himself to a retreat from London.  In this retirement, “he had many conflicts with himself, whether he should return to the painted pleasures of court life or betake himself to the study of divinity, and enter into sacred orders.”  He chose the latter.  He married well.  In 1630 he was