tincture, in part, by the latter fluid. The bitter principle is not precipitated by infusions of galls, and is 
thought to be the same that abounds in gentian. According to the analysis of Fromsdorf, 100 parts of the 
fresh plant consists of 75 parts of water, and 25 of solid matter. The expressed juice on evaporation yields 
0,75 of fecula and albumen, 0,25 of a green resin, with traces of malic acid, acetate of potash, a peculiar 
substance resembling animal matter, a very bitter, azotic extract, and a brownish gum. 
Medical Properties. — The root of this which is given in small doses of about ten grains, imparts 
vigour to the stomach, and strengthens digestion. Its virtues were formerly properly estimated, and 
strange it is that so excellent a tonic should be so little employed. It gives out its bitterness to boiling 
water, and a tincture may be made from it quite equal in its effects to that of gentian. Large doses, either 
in substance or decoction, produce sickness, &c., and frequently powerful diaphoresis; in which respect it 
resembles many other vegetable bitters. Formerly it was employed with benefit in intermittent and re- 
mittent fevers. Boerhaave was relieved from gout by drinking the juice of the plant mixed with whey; 
while Alston, and others assert, that it has the power of keeping off the paroxysms of that painful com- 
plaint. Dr. Cullen speaks still higher of its virtues, for he had seen several instances of its good effects in 
some cutaneous diseases of the herpetic or seemingly cancerous kind, when taken by infusion, in the manner 
of tea. Others have commended it for rheumatism, dropsy, scurvy, and worms; and its reputation in the 
north of Europe, particularly in Germany, was at one time so high that it was consumed in large quantities, 
and deemed a sort of panacea. Its true character, however, is simply that of a powerful bitter tonic, like 
gentian and centuary, to which, as Professor Bigelow observes, it is closely related in its botanical habit, as 
well as sensible properties. Linnaeus informs us in his Flora Lapponica, that in times of scarcity flocks 
will subsist upon this plant, notwithstanding its bitterness; and Dr. Tancred Robinson asserts, that sheep 
which have acquired a tabid condition are quickly recovered by feeding in the marshy meadows which 
abound with it. The Laplanders employ it as a substitute for hops: and they even introduce it in some 
instances into their bread, upon which Linnaeus bestows the epithet, “amarus et detestabilis.” We conclude 
in the words of Bigelow when speaking of the American species : “ we may regard this plant as one of the 
numerous bitters abounding in our country, which are fully equal in strength to imported articles of their 
class, and which may hereafter lessen our dependence on foreign drugs.” 
A popular author observes, that “there is not a more unthinking way of talking, than to say such and 
such pains and pleasures are only imaginary, and therefore to be got rid of or undervalued accordingly. 
There is nothing imaginary, in the common acceptation of the word. The logic of Moses in the Vicar of 
Wakefield is good argument here: — “ Whatever is, is.” Whatever touches us, whatever moves us, does 
touch and does move us. We recognize the reality of it, as we do that of a hand in the dark. We might 
as well say that a sight which makes us laugh, or a blow which brings tears into our eyes, is imaginary, as 
that any thing else is imaginary which makes us laugh or weep. We can only judge of things by their 
effects. Our perception constantly deceives us, in things with which we suppose ourselves perfectly con- 
versant; but our reception of their effect is a different matter. Whether we are materialists or immaterialists, 
whether things be about us or within us, whether we think the sun is a substance, or only the image of a 
divine thought, an idea, a thing imaginary, we are equally agreed as to the notion of its warmth. But on 
the other hand, as this warmth is felt differently by different temperaments, so what we call imaginary 
things affect different minds. What we have to do is not to deny their effect, because we do not feel in the 
same proportion, or whether we even feel it at all; but to see whether our neighbours may not be moved. 
If they are, there is, to all intents and purposes, a moving cause. But we do not see it? No; — neither 
perhaps do they. They only feel it; they are only sentient, — a word which implies the sight given to the 
imagination by the feelings. But what do you mean, we may ask in return, by seeing? Some rays of light 
come in contact with the eye; they bring a sensation to it;- in a word, they touch it; and the impression 
left by this touch we call sight. How far does this differ in effect from the impression left by any other 
touch, however mysterious? An ox knocked down by a butcher, and a man knocked down by a fit of the 
apoplexy, equally feel themselves compelled to drop. The tickling of a straw and of a comedy equally move 
the muscles about our mouth. The look of a beloved eye will so thrill the whole frame, that old philo- 
sophers have had recourse to a doctrine of beams and radiant particles flying from one sight to another. 
In fine, what is contact itself, and why does it affect us? There is no one cause more mysterious than 
another, if we look into it. 
