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At

period of his life was yet in its infancy, and it remained for him to throw light on one great era of the world's life--the era of the lower Old Red Sandstone. The learned results of his explorations are to be found, in his finest book, his "Old Red Sandstone." To it, as to his other productions, we may have occasion to speak, in another place, and must, therefore, continue the thread of our tale. In the quarry, to which he was sometimes sent, he first witnessed the phenomenon of the Old Red Sandstone, curiously capped by its covering of the red boulder clay, roughened by rounded pebbles, and cracked and fissured by the frost. first, their shapeless masses excited no attention; for he was not born a geologist, though he was unquestionably a poet born." But a spark of genius, struck out, by a sudden analogy he had discovered, unfolded his latent powers, and sent him on that course of investigation, which ended in his winning for himself, the laurel crown. His love of minerals fanned the flame, and kept it burning. Let us remark, here, that although Hugh was never a scientific mineralogist, his practical acquaintance with the subject was extensive, and amply served him, in all his laboured speculations. His love of natural scenery was a passion of early

Usquebae an over dose, but it was too much for me; and when the party broke up, and I got home to my books, I found, as I opened the pages of a favourite author, the letters dancing before my eyes, and that I could no longer master the sense. I have the volume at present before me-a small edition of the essays of Bacon, a good deal worn at the corners by the friction of the pocket; for of Bacon I never tired. The condition into which I had brought myself was, I felt, one of degradation. I had sunk, by my own act, for the time, to a lower level of intelligence than that on which it was my privilege to be placed; and though the state could be no favourable one, for forming a resolution, in that hour determined that I should never again sacrifice my capacity of intellectual enjoyment to a drinking usage; and, with God's help, I was enabled to hold by the determination." This decision of character is traceable throughout his whole life. By an assiduity as markedly evident, as that which made him a sterling workman, he carefully laid the foundation of that cultivation of mind which drew forth the admiration of his contemporaries.

tiful, in the world around him. Hear what he says of this sweet pleasure-"A taste for the beauties of natural scenery is, of itself, a never-failing spring of delight; and there was scarce a day in which I wrought in the open air, during this period, in which I did not experience its soothing and exhilarating influence." To him also, "A thing of beauty, is a joy for ever." All his works echo its truthfulness. Yet his dream was ever and anon rudely broken: its peacefulness roughly shaken. Excessive fatigue, brought painful lassitude, and deep depression of spirits. He tells us that, though now seventeen, he was still seven inches short of his ultimate stature, and, his frame, cast in the mould of his mother, was but slimly and loosely knit. Wandering pains in his joints, and an oppressive feeling about the chest, as if crushed by some great weight, were his all, but daily sufferings. But, on the other hand, his master knew his business, and insisted on all the "hands" learning to do the same. Plodding

and persevering, he was in the main a good employer. Quaint and old-fashioned, he had withal, a certain dash of originality, Hugh has drawn his portrait, and has recorded one or two incidents, not unworthy of notice. Of his nonchalance, we are informed that on one occasion, and when conducting an over-laden cargo of stones, the boat, overtaken by a series of rippling seas, was sunk, and the master was submerged to the throat. Unconcerned, by his uncomfortable position, he merely said to his partner in misery, as he witnessed his favourite snuff-mull go floating past, "Od, Andro, man, just rax out your han' and tak' in my snuff-box!" On another occasion, when standing beneath the boulder clay, a large mass came toppling down upon himself and men, crushing into fragments a strong wheel-barrow, and bending a massive iron lever like a bow. The athletic leaped aside, and, then in terror looked for the master; but he was soon seen emerging from the debris, and heard quietly remarking, "Od, I draid, Andro, man, we have lost our good barrow." We can well imagine the merry twinkle in Hugh's eye, as he witnessed these comic traits. He had a keen eye for the ridiculous, and has treasured up many racy descriptions of similar naivetes, in his "Scenes and Legends of the North." A working man has his temptations like other men, and Hugh was once tried by the attractions of good Highland Usquebae. His experience was painful. The passage in which this scene is described is too good to be omitted. laying down the foundation stone of one of the larger houses," he narrates, the workmen had a royal "founding-pint,' and two full glasses fell to my share. A full-grown man would not have deemed a gill of

"In

By S. B. LOUDON, Cork.

1. INTRODUCTORY.

WE are prone to indulge in a sneer at those who seem to have made the Church a present of their conscience, and who have committed to others the work of legislating for them in regard to matters of right and wrong; but it would appear that we have fallen into the same mistake in physical matters which these people make in spiritual concerns. Instead of studying attentively our own material frame, so as to obtain a thorough knowledge of the laws which regulate our health and govern our being, we have put aside the subject of physiology altogether as unworthy of our consideration, and have employed the doctor to think, examine, investigate, and study for us. It accords well with human nature to shift moral responsibility on to the shoulders of another; and it is equally pleasant to "take no thought" for our body, but leave it in the hands of our physician, and hold him accountable for the state of our health. But in neither case can we relieve ourselves of the duty which religion and reason have imposed upon us.. It is as obligatory on us to make ourselves familiar with the structure and functions of our animal system, so that we may not violate any of nature's laws, as it is to respect conscience in religious matters. I firmly believe that few things are more displeasing to God than to neglect that body which is so "fearfully and wonderfully made ;" and I have no doubt whatever, that disease or death, caused by wilful ignorance of the laws of our being, is a violation of the sixth commandment.

It is quite surprising that physiology should be so little understood outside the medical profession, considering the vast importance of the subject. No doubt it is very desirable that we should know the ancient and modern languages, and have a thorough knowledge of literature and science; but is it not of greater consequence that physiology, animal and mental, should form a part of our studies, so that we may know the conditions upon which our health of body and vigour of intellect alike depend? It were much to be desired that physical science should form a branch of general education. I am satisfied that (apart from Divine grace) nothing would do more to check the immorality and vice which prevail to such a fearful extent just now, as a correct understanding of the physical penalties which nature has affixed to the violation of her laws, whether of temperance or chastity. You may confront thousands of open profligates with the moral law and the Holy Scriptures, and they will laugh at you for

your pains; but appeal to their selfish desires, and show them that inevitable death must be the result if they persevere in their wicked practices, and you have uttered a warning which their reason and judgment urge them to listen to. Temperance men should be especially aware of this, for it enables them to plead successfully with a class of men who cannot be reached through the medium of an appeal to their finer feelings. I have long been of opinion (and the experience of every day confirms me in it), that if total abstainers are ever to do any great work in the way of reforming the masses, they must be prepared to show them that strong drink, whether taken moderately or immoderately, is in itself an evil and a pernicious thing. But, unhappily, nearly all of them have so little physiological learning that they are in this respect little better than the lady whom Punch has satirized :

"There was a young lady of Poole
Who tried to set up a school:
But all she could teach

Were the nine parts of speech

And how to make gooseberry fool !"

It seems to be taken for granted that disease, whenever it attacks people, comes of its own accord without any predisposing cause over which they had control. Now, in opposition to this view of the matter, I venture to maintain, that in most cases it will be found that the individual has, through sheer ignorance of facts which he ought to have been acquainted with, habitually violated the laws of health, and thus put his body into a state calculated to invite disease rather than to repel it. I may be told that disease will come in spite of all precautions. True; but in much fewer cases than is imagined. Such is the intense stupidity and carelessness of the great portion of the community that, instead of taking proper means to preserve their health, they prefer to let themselves get sick, and then send for the doctor-laying all the blame, of course, on the atmosphere, or something else. Their proper course would be to pay such attention to bathing, regimen, &c., as would put their body into such a healthy state as would enable it to repel disease whenever it approached. If people knew something of the conditions of healthand they are simple enough, as I hope to show-the shadow of the physician would not so often darken their doors..

Nothing is more common than for people, when disease attacks them, to heave a sigh and console themselves with the thought that God has sent their illness, and that their duty is just to." let patience have her perfect work," and allow

"the same hand which brought affliction on" to "remove it." I venture to say that if we could know the cause of their ailments, we would see that, instead of their "suffering according to the will of God," they were suffering the natural effects of their own ignorance, folly, and sin. What right has any man to exhaust the vital powers of nature by over-work, overstudy, or any other means, and then, when sickness comes upon him, to cheer himself with the thought that he is "suffering according to the will of God?" He is doing nothing of the kind; and it is little short of profanity to charge the Almighty with being the Author of his distress. A mother who loves her child with all the affection of which a parent's heart is capable, through wilful ignorance of how to "train up her child in the way he ought to go"-physically,— allows him to use certain food and drinks, to play under the night air, when he should be in his warm nest, and to do many other things which she should know are unsuitable for a child of his years, and which have a strong tendency to invite disease. By-and-bye, her darling boy is attacked by fever -fatal symptoms soon manifest themselves--the doctor looks gravethe child grows weaker-he dies! And as that mother stands beside the little form, now motionless and still,

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her lacerated heart bleeding and her tears falling like rain-drops, she tries to comfort herself with the thought that it was God's will that her child should be taken from her. But, is it religion, is it reason, is it common sense, to suppose that she is "suffering according to the will of God?" I admit that, in both these cases, the parties are so suffering; but it is only because nothing can come to pass without His permission. This kind of suffering is very different, indeed, from that directly inflicted by the Divine hand. And, as some one has sweetly said, "There are worse troubles than those which God sends." Of all troubles, there are none so hard to bear as those which a man brings upon himself. Let us not, imagine, then, that we are "suffering according to the will of God"-unless our sickness, and perhaps the sickness and death of our loved ones, is not caused by our wilful ignorance, carelessness, or neglect.

Again. How frequently do people pray to God for health and strength, and at the same time habitually violate all the rules and conditions of health. What is this but mocking the Almighty? It is only in the diligent use of means that He has promised to answer prayer; but they never use these means, and expect God to reverse all the laws of nature, and to work a miracle for them. So long as any man remains in ignorance of physical science, and lives contrary to the rules of health, he has no right to expect that this blessing will be given to him. It is my intention, in these papers, to explain the physical laws on which health depends. I have no desire, whatever, to run a tilt with "the faculty,' and it is just possible that some of the medical readers of the Journal may differ from my views; but I may as well mention here that everything which I recommend, I have proved the beneficial effects of in my own person, and I am perfectly satisfied of the correctness of my principles, and of their universal application and utility. Total Abstainers ought to be the most healthy people in the world, and I mean to tell them how they may become so.

Selections for the Young.

ROVER'S REVENGE.

GEORGE SINCLAIR was ten years old. He was not a badly disposed boy; he ger erally learnt his lessons, and obeyed his parents, and was docile and attentive, as a little boy should be; but he had one great fault-he was continually ill-treating every animal that came in his way. He would pull the wings off the flies on the window, hurt and stone any poor frog he saw, throw water on the cat, frighten the hens from the farmyard, and beat his little dog Tiny so cruelly that the animal quite lost his spirit.

It was then that the Crimean war was at its height. Georgie was always talking of the soldiers, and playing at being one. He had a tin sword, and a drum, and a funny little helmet with a plume of horse-hair, and all day long he would march about the garden pretending to be a British soldier, and cutting at the bushes for Russians.

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He burst into tears, and said, "It was I, papa ; but I did not know the toad was useful for anything."

"And this is the little boy who wants to be a brave soldier!" Said Mr. Sinclair. "George, you have seriously displeased me, and, what is far worse, you have offended your Father in heaven by your cruelty. Give me those playthings; they were meant for a good boy. And go and say good-bye to Tiny. I shall send him away at once to your cousin, for you are not fit to own him any longer."

So Georgie lost his little dog, and could no longer play at soldiers; besides which, he was in sad disgrace all day, and felt very unhappy. In the evening Mr. Sinclair called him into his study, and talked to him very seriously. He showed him how wicked it is in the sight of a good God to hurt any of his creatures; how little man deserves God's mercy, and how merciful he should be in his turn; how useful every grade of creation is, and how necessary to the wants of mankind. Then, when Georgie felt how wicked he had been, his father knelt down with him, and asked God to forgive him for his sin. Afterwards they had a long conversation on the nature and habits of the animals that Georgie had tormented. He was told of the sacred toads of Egypt, of their beautiful eyes; of the habits of dogs; of the Esquimaux, with their dog-sledges; the monks of St. Bernard, with their hounds trained to rescue travellers; and many other stories. And for several evenings after, Georgie continued to hear accounts of the birds and beasts, and he got so interested that his father believed he was quite cured of his evil propensity; but, inasmuch as Mr. Sinclair wished the lesson to be a deep one, he would not let Tiny come back, but accepted instead, a large Newfoundland dog from a neighbour, and had a new kennel built for him in Tiny's corner of the yard.

"And I caution you, for your own sake, not to illuse him," he said to Georgie, "for Rover will not bear it like Tiny did."

One would have thought, after this, that Georgie would take great care to treat all the animals about him as he ought to do: and so, for many weeks, he did. Rover, especially, he made great friends with, and grew quite consoled for the loss of poor Tiny. But in a short time the effects of his father's teaching wore away, and his old habit began again to show itself. One day, when Rover lay blinking lazily in the hot sunshine, Georgie begged a few scraps of meat for him from the cook, and began to throw them, one by one, into the dog's huge mouth, as it opened, with lazy condescension, to receive them. Suddenly the idea struck him to see how Rover liked cayenne pepper. Georgie had himself been burnt by some the day before, and one would have thought his own pain would have prevented his giving it to Rover; but no. He ran to the dining-room, took the cruets off the sideboard, and completely covered a large piece of meat with mustard and cayenne pepper. Then, coming back to Rover, who supposing the meat was all done, had composed himself to sleep, Catch, Rover," he said. So Rover opened his mouth as usual, and away went the mustard and pepper down his throat.

Poor Rover! he was dreadfully hurt. Big tears rolled out of his eyes; and he coughed, and wheezed, and rolled over with pain, till Georgie was quite frightened, and would have given a good deal not to have played his cruel joke; but it was too late now. Their friendship was broken from that moment. Rover would never come near, or follow, or play with him any more. He would not touch a piece of meat from his hand, and stalked away, growling, if Georgie attempted to pat him. Mr. Sinclair noticed the alteration, but Georgie said nothing on the matter.

Winter had come on now, and there was a heavy fall of snow for several days together. All the country was covered with it. One morning, having got permission, Georgie ran merrily off for a long walk across the fields. Rover would not follow him, so he went alone. When

he got a mile or two from home, he fell suddenly into a deep hole, which had got filled with snow to the level of the ground. For a moment he was stunned; and when he recovered he found that one of his ankles was badly hurt. The sides of the pit were too high for him to climb out; there was no road near; the air was bitterly cold, and, moreover, he could scarcely stand. He called and shrieked for aid, but none came. He tried to clamber out, but only fell back again, making his ankle so painful that he could scarcely bear it. Hour after hour went on, and he thought of the stories he had read of people being frozen to death, and then it struck him what a naughty boy he had been, and his cruelty and disobedience came to his mind; and there, in the cold snow, Georgie prayed God to forgive him and help him. as his parents had taught him to pray; and God did help him, for there, as he looked up, was Rover's black nose peering down upon him from above. Oh! how he laughed, and cried, "Dear Rover! Dear old dog! Oh, Rover, I am so glad to see you!" And Rover whined and wagged his tail with joy, too. Then Georgie stood up, and tried to reach him; and when he could not, he threw up his handkerchief, and the sagacious animal caught it with his teeth, and pulled back to see if he could get Georgie up; but it was too steep, and Rover slipped down into the pit, too. How warm he was, and how soon the blood began to circulate again in Georgie's frozen veins, as Rover rolled over him with his shaggy coat.

At last Rover made a desperate bound and got out again, and ran away as hard as he could. Georgie knew he had gone home to fetch assistance, and he was not afraid any longer. Soon the faithful dog came back, and with him Mr. Sinclair and the men-servants, all very much alarmed; and they lifted Georgie out, and carried him to a warm bed, where he lay several days, from the effects of the cold and his sprained ankle. Then he learnt how Rover, when he saw them searching for him, had gone off of his own accord, and must have tracked him all the way to the place where he fell. And this was the way that the poor dog returned good

for evil.

Georgie is now grown up, but he never forgot the lesson he had learnt. He never ill-treated any of God's creatures from that time. Rover is very old, but a great pet; and whenever George sees a little boy tormenting a dumb animal, he calls him to his side, and tells him the tale of Rover's revenge.

DUTIES.- Be not diverted from your duty by any idle reflections the silly world may make upon you, for their censures are not in your power, and, consequently, should not be any part of your concern.-Epictetus.

EARLY RISING.-I wonld have inscribed on the curtains of your bed, and on the walls of your bed-chamber, "If you do not rise early, you can make progress in nothing." If you do not set apart your hours of reading—if you suffer yourself or any one else to break in upon themyour days will slip through your hands unprofitable, and frivolous, and unenjoyed by yourself.-Lord Chatham. FIRMNESS.-Firmness, both in sufferance and exertion, is a character which I would wish to possess. I have always despised the language of complaint, and the cowardly, feeble resolve.

INDUSTRY.-If wisdom is the head, and honesty the heart, energetic industry is the right hand of every exalted vocation; without which the shrewdest insight is blind, and the best intentions are abortive.

MANNERS.-Graceful manners are the outward form of refinement in the mind, and good affections in the heart.

No.-No is a wonderful word. Be not afraid to use it. Many a man has pined in misery for years, for not having courage to pronounce that little monosyllable. POLITENESS.-True politeness is a virtue of the understanding, and of the heart.

SELF-CULTURE. Have courage enough to review your own conduct; to condemn it where you detect your faults; to amend it to the best of your ability; to make good resolves for your future guidance, and to keep them.

Chapters in Natural History.

REMARKABLE BIRDS OF AUSTRALIA. Is Gould's ornithological work, treating on the birds of Australia, we meet with a very curious and interesting account of the habits and economy of two most remarkable species, "the Wattled Talegalla," or brush-turkey, and the " Ocellated Seipoa." The most remarkable circumstance connected with the history of these birds is the fact of their not hatching their eggs by incubation, but by a process altogether wonderful and new. "The Wattled Talegalla collects together an immense heap of decaying vegetable matter, as a depository for the eggs, and trusts to the heat, engendered by the process of decomposition, for the developement of the young. The heap employed for this purpose is collected by the birds, during several weeks previous to the period of laying; it varies in size from two to four cart-loads, and is of a perfectly pyramidal form. The construction of the mound is not the work of one pair of birds, but is effected by the united labours of several; the same site appears, from the great size and entire decomposition of the lower part, to be resorted to for several years in succession, the birds adding a fresh supply of materials on each occasion previous to laying. 66 The mode in which the materials composing these mounds are accumulated is equally singular; the bird never using its bill, but always grasping a quantity in its foot, throwing it backwards to one common centre, and thus clearing the surface of the ground for a considerable distance, so completely, that scarcely a leaf, or blade of grass, is left. The heap being accumulated, and time allowed for a sufficient heat to be engendered, the eggs are deposited, not side by side, as is ordinarily the case, but planted at the distance of nine or twelve inches from each other. and buried at nearly an arm's depth, perfectly upright, with the large end upwards. They are covered up as they are laid, and allowed to remain until hatched. It is not an unusual event to obtain nearly a bushel of eggs from a single heap; and as they are delicious eating, they are eagerly sought after." The Ocellated Seipoa differs from the Talegalla in constructing its "eccaleobion," or artificial hot-bed, of sand, instead of vegetable mould, and its eggs, deposited therein, being hatched by the heat of the sun's ray, acting on the sand. In this respect it somewhat assimilates the ostrich, which makes its shallow nest on the sand, and partly by incubation, and partly by the sun's heat during the intervals of its absence, it thus brings forth its young_out of their captivity into life. It, however, makes no hotbed, or "eccaleobion," for its eggs; "nor," says Mr. Gould, "know we of any birds, excepting these two Australian species, in which instinct prompts to so strange and interesting a procedure."

OUR ATMOSPHERE.-Our atmosphere has been so frequently described that it may seem unnecessary to say more about it, and yet practically very few have either distinct or correct ideas of its nature. Some think it extends indefinitely upwards. Some suppose it twenty miles high or deep, others fifty. Dalton held this last opinion in 1834. Aeronauts and mountain travellers have proved since then that air, in which man may live, does not extend to ten miles from our ocean level, probably not to eight. Glaisher and his aeronaut almost died at six miles or thereabouts; and no other human being has ever ascended to fully five miles. At about ten miles there can be no pressure of air, or tension equal to more than an inch of mercury; there may be very light gas, but there can be no atmosphere such as we feel and breathe.-Fitz Roy's Weather Book.

RED SNOW.-It was not, however, till the return of Sir John Ross from his memorable expedition to the Arctic regions in October, 1818, that the attention of the scientific world at large was attracted towards this red snow. This distinguished officer, on the 16th of June, found in about lat. 75 deg. a range of cliffs rising about 800 feet above the level of the sea, and extending eight

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miles in length, entirely covered with snow, which seemed as if it had been watered with some crimson decoction. The scientific men attached to the expedition examined this wonderful phenomenon on the spot; and portions of the snow were brought home, and excited no inconsiderable interest among the most learned savans of the age. Sir W. E. Parry found the same phenomenon when investigating these remote and dreary regions in 1827; and discovered besides that wherever the surface of the snow plain, although previously of its ordinary spotless hue, was crushed by the pressure of the sledges, and of the footsteps of the party, blood-like stains appeared most vividly, the impressions being sometimes tinged with an orange colour, and sometimes appearing of a pale salmon

hue.

How many a dying prayer is hushed in each re-echoed boom;

My 'wildered vision seems to see him stretched upon the plain,

Which drinks his crimson flood of life-that deathfraught roar again!

Sleep, baby mine. What knowest thou of hope, or hate, or fear;

The tyrant has not crushed thy heart-not yet, not yet, my dear!

Thou ne'er hast gazed, afeard, amazed, at the pale form of death

The burial flower blooms bright to thee as does the bridal wreath.

"Sleep, baby mine!" the world to thee seems wondrous

bright and fair

Sleep! sleep! thou hast not conned the bitter lesson of despair;

How soon, alas! the cloud may pass o'er this calm heav'n of thine !"

"List, my mother! Hark-another r Sleep, dearest baby mine.

Oh, in this dreadful hour, whilst I have only tears for him,

Perhaps the little dawning light of liberty grows dim; And yet what matters it to me though all the world were slaves,

If all my world be lost among the war fields gathered graves!"

boy, it is "Mother, that voice?".

come voice is his !"

-"Rejoice, rejoice-that welALPHA.

Literature.

RETRIBUTION. By Mrs. C. L. Balfour.

This is another of the excellent tales issued by the Scottish Temperance League. In some respects it may be considered the best from the pen of its gifted authoress, Mrs. C. L. Balfour. The sad effects of intemperate habits, and the lamentable results to families and their domestics of moderate drinking, are vividly and powerfully pourtrayed. We wish the story a very extensive circulation.

THE PILGRIM FATHERS: A Poem. By William H. Kisbey, Trinity College, Dublin.

We are glad to see that the talented author of "The Mission of Livingstone" has again been successful in obtaining the Vice-Chancellor's prize for English verse composition. The subject of the present poem is "The Pilgrim Fathers," and Mr. Kisbey has handled the historical theme with great poetical ability. In our next we purpose giving some extracts from the beautiful poem.

After

REV. JOSEPH WOLFF AND THE RECHABITES.-The Rev. Joseph Wolff says:-" On my arriva in Mesopotamia, some Jews that I saw there pointed me to one of the ancient Rechabites. He stood before me, wild, like an Arab, holding the bridle of his horse in his hand. I showed him the Bible in Hebrew and Arabic, which he was much rejoiced to see, as he could read both languages, but had no knowledge of the New Testament. having proclaimed to him the tidings of salvation, and made him a present of the Hebrew and Arabic Bibles and Testaments, I asked him, 'Whose descendant are you? Mousa,' said he, boisterously, 'is my name, and I will show you who were my ancestors;' on which he immediately began to read from the fifth to the eleventh verses of Jeremiah xxxv. 'Where do you reside? said I. Turning to Genesis x. 27, he replied, 'At Hadoram, now called Simar by the Arabs; at Uzal, now called Sinan by the Arabs;' and again referring to the same chapter verse 30, he continued, 'At Mesha, now called

Mecca, in the deserts around those places. We drink no wine, and plant no vineyard, and sow no seed; and live in tents, as Jonadab our father commanded us; Hobab was our father, too. Come to us, and you will find us 60,000 in number, and you see thus the prophecy has been fulfilled: "Therefore thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel; Jonadab the son of Rechab, shall not want a man to stand before me for ever;" and saying this, Mousa the Rechabite mounted his horse, and fled away, and left behind a host of evidence in favour of sacred writ."

DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON ON TOTAL ABSTINENCE.Talking of a man's resolving to deny himself the use of wine from moral and religious considerations, he said, He must not doubt about it. When one doubts as to pleasure, we know what will be the conclusion. I now no more think of drinking wine than a horse does. The wine upon the table is no more for me than for the dog that is under the table." Edwards: How do you live Sir? For my part I must have my regular meals, and a glass of good wine. I find I require it." Johnson: "I now drink no wine, Sir. Early in life I drank wine : for many years I drank none. I then for some years drank a great deal." Edwards: Some hogsheads, I warrant you." Johnson: "I then had a severe illness, and left it off, and have never begun it again. I never felt any difference upon myself from eating one thing rather than another. There are people, I believe, who feel a difference; but I am not one of them." Edwards: "I am growing old: I am sixty-five." Johnson: I shall be sixty-eight next birth. Come, Sir, drink water, and put in for a hundred."- -Boswell's Life of Johnson.

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SYDNEY SMITH ON TOTAL ABSTINENCE. — Many thanks for your kind anxiety respecting my health. I not only was never better, but never half so well: indeed I find I have been very ill, all my life without knowing it. Let me state some of the goods arising from abstaining from all fermented liquors. First, sweet sleep; having never known what sleep was, I sleep like a baby, or a ploughboy. If I wake, no needless terrors, no black visions of life, but pleasing hopes and pleasing recollections-Holland-house, past and to come! If I dream, it is not of tigers and lions, but of Easter dues and tithes. Secondly, I can take longer walks and make greater exertions without fatigue. My understanding is improved and I comprehend political economy. I see better without wine and spectacles than when I used both. Only one evil ensues from it: I am in such extravagant spirits that I must loose blood, or look out for some one who will bore or depress me."-Letter to Lady Holland.

THE MOTHER OF GEORGE III.--As mother of the King she inhabited Carlton House, which contemporary prints represent, as Mr. Thackeray points out, with a perfect paradise of a garden, with trim lawns, green arcades, and vistas of classic statutes. "She admired these in company with my Lord Bute, who had a fine classic taste, and sometimes council took and some times tea in the pleasant green arbours along with that polite nobleman." As long as his mother lived, George III, was a "great, shy, awkward boy, under the tutelage of that hard parent"-for such Mr. Thackery accounts the Princess; affirming, indeed, that there is something to him exceed. ingly touching in the simple early life of the king; and declaring her Royal Highness to have been a clever, domineering, cruel woman, who kept her household lonely and in gloom, mistrusting almost all persons who came about her children. "Seeing the young Duke of Gloucester silent and unhappy once, she sharply asked him the cause of his silence. 'I am thinking,' said the poor child. Thinking sir! and of what? I am thinkif ever I have a son I will not make him so unhappy as you make me.' The other sons were all wild, except George. Dutifully every evening George and Charlotte paid their visit to the king's mother at Carlton House. She had a throat complaint, of which she died; but to the last persisted in driving about the streets to show she was alive. The night before her death the resolute woman talked with her son and daughter-in-law as usual, went to bed, and was found dead in the morning. 'George, be a king!' were the words she was for ever croaking in the ears of her son; and a king the simple, stubborn, affectionate, bigoted man tried to be." It is curious to think that this strong minded woman's favourite occupation, even after marriage, had been dressing and undressing a doll.-Colburn's New Monthly.

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