genus of plants, belonging to the triandra class. See Botany Index.

Old Age. See Longevity. Many methods have been proposed for lengthening life, and rendering old age comfortable. Cornaro's Treatise on this subject is known to every body, and needs not be quoted. To some of our readers the following set of resolutions will perhaps be new, and may certainly be useful.

The old men should resolve, except the reasons for a change be invincible, to live and to die in the public profession of the religion in which they were born and bred. To avoid all profane talk and intricate debates on sacred topics. To endeavour to get the better of the intrusions of indolence of mind and body, those certain harbingers of enfeebling age. Rather to wear out, than to rust out. To rise early, and as often as possible to go to bed before midnight. Not to nod in company, nor to indulge repose too frequently on the couch in the day. To waste as little of life in sleep as may be, for we shall have enough in the grave. Not to give up walking; nor to ride on horseback to fatigue. Experience, and a late medical opinion, determine to ride five miles every day: Nothing contributes more to the preservation of appetite, and the prolongation of life. Cheyne's direction to the valetudinary, "to make exercise a part of their religion," to be religiously observed. To continue the practice of reading, pursued for more than fifty years, in books on all subjects: for variety is the salt of the mind as well as of life. Other people's thoughts, like the best conversation of one's companions, are generally better and more agreeable than one's own. Frequently to think over the virtues of one's acquaintance, old and new. To admit every cheerful ray of sunshine on the imagination. To avoid retrospection on a past friendship, which had much of love in it; for memory often comes when she is not invited. To try to think more of the living and less of the dead; for the dead belong to a world of their own. To live within one's income, be it large or little. Not to let passion of any sort run away with the understanding. Not to encourage romantic hopes nor fears. Not to drive away hope, the sovereign balm of life, though he is the greatest of all flatterers. Not to be under the dominion of superstition or enthusiasm. Not willingly to undertake any thing for which the nerves of the mind or the body are not strong enough. Not to run the race of competition, or to be in another's way. To avoid being jostled too much in the street, being overcome by the noise of the carriages, and not to be carried even by curiosity itself into a large crowd. To strive to embody that dignified sentiment, "to write injuries in dust, but kindnesses in marble." Not to give the reins to constitutional impatience, for it is apt to hurry on the first expressions into the indecency of swearing. To recollect, that he who can keep his own temper may be master of another's. If one cannot be a stoic, in bearing and forbearing, on every trying occasion, yet it may not be impossible to pull the check-string against the moroseness of spleen or the impetuosity of peevishness. Anger is a short madness. Not to fall in love, now on the precipice of threescore, nor expect to be fallen in love with. A connexion between summer and winter is an improper one. Love, like fire, is a good servant, but a bad master. Love is death, when the animal spirits are gone. To contrive to have as few vacant hours upon one's hands as possible, that idleness, the mother of crimes and vices, may not pay its visit. To be always doing of something, and to have something to do. To fill up one's time, and to have a good deal to fill up: for time is the materials that life is made of. If one is not able by situation, or through the necessity of raising the supplies within the year, or by habit (for virtue itself is but habit), to do much ostentatious good, yet do as little harm as possible. To make the best and the most of every thing. Not to indulge too much in the luxury of the table, nor yet to undermine the constitution. The gout, rheumatism, and dropsy, in the language of the Spectator, seem to be hovering over the dishes. Wine, the great purveyor of pleasure, and the second in rank among the senses, offers his service, when love takes his leave. It is natural to catch hold of every help, when the spirits begin to droop. Love and wine are good cordials, but are not proper for the beverage of common use. Resolve not to go to bed on a full meal. A light supper and a good conscience are the best receipts for a good night's rest, and the parents of undisturbing dreams. Not to be enervated by the flatulence of tea. Let the second or third morning's thought be to consider of the employment for the day; and one of the last at night to inquire what has been done in the course of it. Not to let one's tongue run at the expense of truth. Not to be too communicative nor unreserved. A close tongue, with an open countenance, are the safest passports through the journey of the world. To correct the error of too much talking, and restrain the narrativeness of the approaching climaxacter. Not to like or dislike too much at first sight. Not to wonder, for all wonder is ignorance that possession falls short of expectation. The longing of twenty years may be disappointed in the unanswered gratification of a single hour. hour. Whilst we are wishing, we see the best side; after we have taken possession, the worst. Resolve to attend to the arguments on both sides, and to hear everybody against every body. The mind ought not to be made up, but upon the best evidence. To be affectionate to relations, which is a kind of self-love, in preference to all other acquaintance. But not to emit paying the commanding respect to merit, which is superior to all the accidental chains of kindred. Not to debilitate the mind by new and future compositions. Like the spider, it may spin itself to death. The mind, like the field, must have its fallow season. The leisure of the pen has created honourable acquaintance, and pleased all it has wished to please. To resolve not to be too free of promises, for performances are sometimes very difficult things. Not to be too much alone, nor to read, nor meditate, or talk too much on points that may awaken tender sensations, and be too pathetic for the soul. To enjoy the present, not to be made too unhappy by reflection on the past, not to be oppressed by invisible gloom on the future. To give and receive comfort, those necessary alms to a distressed mind. To be constantly thankful to providence for the plenty hitherto possessed, which has preserved one from the dependence on party, persons, and opinions, and kept one out of debt. The appearance of a happy situation, and opportunities of tasting many worldly felicities (for content has seldom perverted itself into discontent), has induced many to conclude, that one must be pleased with one's lot in life; and it occasions many to look with the eye of innocent envy. To resolve more than ever to shun every public station and responsibility of conduct. To be satisfied with being master of one's self, one's habits, now a second nature, and one's time. Determined not to solicit, unless trampled upon by fortune, to live and die in the harness of trade, or a profession. To take care that pity (humanity is not here meant) does not find out one in the endurance of any calamity. When pity is within call, contempt is not far off. Not to wish to have a greater hold of life, nor to quit that hold. The possible tenure of existence is of too short possession for the long night that is to succeed; therefore not a moment to be lost. Not to lose sight even for a single day, of these good and proverbial doctors—diet—merryman—and quiet. Resolved to remember and to recommend, towards tranquillity and longevity, the three oral maxims of Sir Hans Sloane—"Never to quarrel with one's self—one's wife—or one's prince." Lastly, Not to put one's self too much in the power of the elements, those great enemies to the human frame; namely, the sun—the wind—the rain—and the night air.

Old Man of the Mountain. See Assassins.

Oldcastle, Sir John, called the Good Lord Cobham, was born in the reign of Edward III. and was the first author as well as the first martyr among the English nobility: he obtained his peerage by marrying the heiress of that Lord Cobham who with so much virtue and patriotism opposed the tyranny of Richard II. By his means the famous statute against provisors was revived, and guarded against by severer penalties; he was one of the leaders of the reforming party; was at great expense in procuring and dispersing copies of Wiclif's writings among the people, as well as by maintaining a number of his disciples as itinerant preachers. In the reign of Henry V. he was Oldcastle, accused of heresy; the growth of which was attributed to his influence. Being a domestic in the king's court, the king delayed his prosecution that he might reason with him himself; but not being able to reclaim him to the church of Rome, he in great displeasure resigned him to its censure. He was apprehended and condemned for heresy; but escaping from the Tower, lay concealed for four years in Wales, until the rumour of a pretended conspiracy was raised against him, and a price set upon his head: he was at last seized and executed in St Giles's Fields; being hung alive in chains upon a gallows, and burned by a fire placed underneath. He wrote "Twelve Conclusions, addressed to the Parliament of England."