therefore is, by natural means, circulated through the body, the more rapidly does the process of nutrition go on. You may compare the living actions to the actions of a hand-cornmill, the heart representing the first wheel, which puts into motion all the other wheels; and bodily exertion may represent the man who turns the crank attached to the first wheel. Now the more rapidly the man turns the crank the more rapid will be the motion of the first, second, third, and all the other wheels, and the more rapidly will the corn be ground. At the same time, if the crank be turned with inconsiderate fury, the machinery may be deranged and the mill broken. So bodily exertion is not to be furious. A horse may be ridden to death; and, therefore, bodily exertion may be carried too far. But there is no danger of a man undergoing too much exertion voluntarily, and for his health's sake. Pain and fatigue will always operate as sufficient, nay, even irresistible restraints. I have said that persons of sedentary habits become frequently sensible of a feeling of want—a sinking at the stomach, as they express it-which they seek to relieve by eating or drinking. I have said, too, that although these persons require the excitement of a stimulus, yet food or wine does not furnish the stimulus required, but, on the contrary, only adds to the evil. You know I have all along mentioned four things as necessary to life, one of which, you cannot have forgotten, is STIMULI. But I shall disuse the word "stimuli," because, being used in the plural, it is awkward to introduce it correctly without periphrasis, and I will use the word "excitement" instead. and sleeps on half-a-dozen bottles of wine and rises without a headache. Excitement, therefore, my dear John, is necessary: we cannot be healthy without it, and you and I only quarrel about the kind of excitement. This natural necessity for, and craving after excitement, is evinced in the numberless habits to which we addict ourselves in order to obtain it. The habits of drinking, snuff-taking, smoking, all owe their favour to the temporary excitement they afford. The reason why we crave after these unnatural kinds of excitement is because we have lost a part of that excitement which is natural and necessary to us. It results from a languid and lazy circulation-a gorged state of the venous system with black, devitalizing blood, and a deficiency of that stimulating and vivifying blood whose colour is vermilion, and which is proper to the arteries. Those distressing sensations of sinking, and want, and languor, and low-spiritedness, of which dyspeptics complain, accrue to them from the same causes. They are deficient in excitement-they want excitement; they want to have their brains, and heart, and whole system stimulated, spurred, by the exciting properties of vermilion blood, driven merrily and forcefully to every point of the universal tissue. We require a stimulant, then, certainly; but the only stimulant which will serve our purpose is arterial blood in energetic circulation. And the only means to procure this is bodily exertion. "Exercitum naturæ dormientis stimulatio, membrorum solatium, morborum medela, fuga vitiorum, medicina languorum, destructio omnium malorum." One word more for bodily exertion as the means of increasing bodily strength, and without health there cannot be strength. Observe the manner in which horses are trained for the course. The exciting properties of arterial blood I have just been describing to you, and showing you how rapid exercise produces its exhilarating effects, viz. by increasing They are made to undergo more and the quantity of arterial blood, and driving more exertion, day by day, until the reit, in rapid currents, through all the count-quisite strength has been achieved. Reless avenues of the brain and body. It is flect on this:-they strengthen these horses to the lively leaping of the living current by making them daily undergo severe lathat we owe all the bounding buoyancy, bour. They do not rest them in order to the elastic light-heartedness, which rapid strengthen them; they work them in order motion and rapid exercise imparts. In to strengthen them. "Ay, but,” says some one of the volumes of Byron's works is wiseacre, "a horse is a horse, and a man the following note:-"A young French is a man." Blockhead !-what then? We renegado confessed to Chateaubriand that have but to exchange the race-course for he never found himself alone galloping in the prize-ring, and the argument still rethe desert without a sensation almost ap- mains in full force. The prize-fighters proaching to rapture which was indescri- will also furnish us with an example of the bable." The circumstance of this man fact before stated, viz. that the high debeing alone in a desert had little to do gree of contractility consequent upon an with his rapturous sensations. He owed energetic circulation is hostile to, and inthem to the rapid circulation and oxyda- compatible with, much sensibility, these tion of his blood, produced as the joint ef fellows becoming almost insensible to fects of rapid exercise and rapid motion. blows unless dealt with an energy capable The fox-hunter owes his pleasure to the of felling an ox. They furnish an examsame causes, and also the impunity with ple, too, of another fact which I have stated which he breakfasts on ale and brandy, somewhere in a note, viz. that well-filled arteries and a vigorous circulation are highly conducive-I believe absolutely necessary to equable and amiable temper; for these men are remarkably easy and well-tempered fellows. On the contrary, if you seek a perfect example of pettish, irritable, quarrelsome, unforgiving, querulous, snappish, cat-like, unsoothable, spiteful, and sulky temper, you will find it in the Spitalfields weaver-the poor, dyspeptic weaver, "cabined, cribbed, confined," and cramped at his loom for sixteen hours a day, in a room ten feet square, whose utmost exertion is to throw a shuttle, four ounces in weight, backwards and forwards about the length of his arm, and whose longest peregrination is from his own cabin to the counter of the gin-shop, and from the counter of the gin-shop to the door of his own cabin. disorganized, wasted, sweated, before it can be nourished; recollect the tale of the dervish and the sultan; recollect the mode of training horses for the course, and men for the prize-ring. With plentiful bodily exertion you can scarcely be ill; without bodily exertion, you cannot possibly be well. By "well," I mean, the enjoying as much strength as your system is capable of, and if you are in search of some charm, some talisman, which will enable you to indulge considerably in the pleasures of the table with comparative impunity, you will find it in bodily exertion, and in bodily exertion only. But by exertion or exercise, I do not mean the petty affair of a three-miles walk. I mean what I say, bodily exertion to the extent of quickened breathing and sensible perspiration kept up for three or The fortitude of the Indian at the stake four hours out of the twenty-four: say, arises from the same circumstance of a four or five miles before breakfast, four or highly energetic circulation. From his five before dinner, four or five early in the habits of life his circulation is always evening; or, to save the evening for other vigorous, and his sensibility obtuse; but purposes, a man may walk ten or a dozen at the moment of torture its energy is still miles before breakfast, with an advantage further augmented, and his sensibility still to himself which will, in a week or two, further blunted by the enthusiasm and ex-perfectly astonish him. Most men, even ultation which he feels in maintaining the the operative manufacturers and shophonour of his tribe, and in disappointing his enemies who, he knows, are eagerly watching for any symptom of wincing. His circulation thus becomes a perfect estuary, and his body almost insensible to pain. Again, when the circulation through the brain is highly excited by intense thought, the nerves arising from the brain become almost insensible to the impressions natural to them. The ear hears not, the eye sees not, the olfactory nerves take no cognizance of odours. SLEEP. keepers may do this, if they will take the trouble to rise early enough; and, fortunately, the exercise taken before breakfast is worth all that can be taken afterwards. It would be easy to show that the health and strength of the mind is as much under the control of the circulation as is the health and strength of the body. But I have already exceeded my limits. Rules of diet, therefore, are of little use, and that little only to those who cannot take the necessary degree of bodily exercise. The stomach of a healthy man will dissolve polished steel of the finest temper. What difference can it make to such During sleep the circulation is, natural- an organ whether it receive roast or boiled ly, more languid than when we are awake. meat, eggs, oysters, cheese, butter, bread, The intervals between breathing and or potato, and whether these articles have breathing are also longer. From these been thoroughly and minutely broken two facts it is clear that secretion can go down by the teeth or only imperfectly so. on but very feebly, if at all, during sleep. A great deal of ridiculous stress has been We should not, therefore, sleep after eat-laid on the necessity of minutely commiing, because this puts a stop to the formation of those juices which are essential to the assimilation of food in the stomach and bowels, and materially retards its assimilation in the lungs. We should always, too, take exercise for an hour or two before breakfast, in order to rouse up the living actions from their temporary slumber, and in order that, when the stomach receives its first meal, it may be prepared for it with a copious supply of gastric juice. To conclude; if you would preserve your health, therefore, exercise, severe exercise, proportioned, however to your strength, and especially taken before breakfast, is the only means which can avail you. Recollect, the body must be nuting the food. To break down the food thoroughly with the teeth certainly relieves the labour of what is called digestion; and I will tell you exactly how much it relieves it. It relieves the labour of the stomach just in the same degree as it would relieve the labour of a horse drawing a load of gravel, to remove from the whole cart-load a single pebble, that is, just enough to swear by, and no more. Sir Richard Jedd, when his patients used to ask him what diet they should use, was in the habit of replying, "Why, my dear madam, don't eat the fender and fire-irons, because they are decidedly unwholesome, but of any other dish you may freely partake.” But to those who, from any cause, cannot take bodily exertion, some attention to diet may be necessary. But even here quantity rather than quality, is the grand consideration. They cannot well take too little food, and wine and other strong drinks are wholly inadmissible. And let them only reflect on the mechanism of nutrition; on the manner in which our food nourishes us, what becomes of it after we have eaten it, and they cannot but clearly see that this advice is sound and wholesome doctrine. But when the star o' night Looks on that mountain stream, My changeless love for thee, Authority without proof is of little value; otherwise, I could quote them in abundance from all sorts of authors, in all ages ARDENT of the world. But if you will not believe the evidence of such arguments as I have already adduced, neither would authorities convince you, though their name were Legion. I shall, however, conclude this series of letters with two. Exercise," says Hawkesworth, "gives health, vigour, and cheerfulness, sound sleep, and a keen appetite. The effects of sedentary thoughtfulness are diseases that embitter and shorten life, interrupted rest, tasteless meals, perpetual languor, and ceaseless anxiety." "Temperance," says Burton, "is a bridle of gold, and he who can use it aright is liker a god than a man." But I beg your pardon, I must make another short quotation, which has this moment occurred to me; one which, though exceedingly short, embodies in itself the truth and wisdom of an hundred volumes. It is the following brief aphorism of the late Mr. Abernethy, with which I shall conclude. "If you would be well, live upon sixpence a-day,—and earn it.” I am, my dear John, THE DREAM. BY MRS. CRAWFORD. I SAW thee like a bride, E. JOHNSON. Wi' roses purely white, And ane stood at thy side, I thought could hae no right; Sin' a' that faith could bind Those lips had vow'd to me; O Jennie, maun I live to find A dream mair true than thee? I couldna hae the heart To gie thy bosom pain; For, oh! the gift and giver baith TROUGHTON, THE WRECK ED MERCHANT.* BY E. HOWARD. I SLEPT that night-yes, I slept, if the unconsciousness of the body and the torture of the mind may be called sleep. My spirits had all night been struggling with those vast, though dreamy precursors of evil that come over it like "shapes of hell," and I appeared next morning, in spite of every effort to the contrary, jaded, subdued, and ill. I was little cognizant of the workings of the human mind in others, and, from my earliest infancy, my own had been so peculiarly constituted, that I could not use it as an index by which to judge how impending evils wrought upon the imagination of others. True it is, that I had read many books full of the most approved aphorisms, such as, the worst certainty was better than the agony of suspense-that action was the best preservative against despair, and a great deal of second-hand wisdom to the same effect. But much of this I surmised to be false. The reasoning that will not apply to a whole life, there are good grounds for suspecting cannot be over true concerning a portion of it: one happy hour fairly achieved, is a gain from the necessary mass of misery that hangs upon the happiest existence. Should I tell my father, and my mother, and my sister, that in a few days, in all human probability, they would be barbarously murdered?-should I tell Honoria and Isabella that probably they would be reserved for a worse fate? Should I cause them to suffer those horrors and those deaths a thousand times in a few short days before they happened, or whether they happened at all-or should I let the mysterious dread of an impending, mighty, yet indistinct catastrophe, hang brooding over them? Strange intricacy of our common nature. In these awful cases how frequently, how ardently do we wish to cut the gordian knot that binds up these horrors, by some act of desperation! The precipice down which we look whilst we dread it, seems to tempt us to try the annihilating leap. That morning, as we sate at our * Continued from vol. ii. page 371. melancholy breakfast, I had chilling I have just witnessed, which, if they were thoughts of the powder magazine. "Let not so real and so dreadful, would put me in us all rush together," said the tempter, identifying himself with my own thought, "let us rush together into the presence of the Deity, and at the foot of his throne demand justice upon the heads of the evil doers. But a few steps, and one, only one spark of fire, and I can bring the accused and the accusers face to face, in regions of everlasting bliss, secure innocence from contamination, and punishment to the guilty." For a short time it seemed to me a glorious sacrifice; and one almost worth the perilling of my eternal soul. But these wild thoughts were soon checked, by reflecting upon my first cruise, and the lamentable fate of the mistaken and heroic Gavel. I then began to fear that my heart was desperately wicked, beyond the wickedness of man, seeing how often my imaginings had been brought to the very threshold of murder-of gigantic homicide. I then looked upon Jugurtha, and shuddered; even whilst I was condemning the guilty course of my ideas, I bethought me of his recklessness of life, his devotion to myself and sister, his irreparable wrongs, and his ready hand. Overpowered at length with the struggle of these emotions, the expression of which on my countenance I ought to have concealed and could not; I suddenly found myself in the arms of my sister, her eyes streaming with tears, and her faltering lips imploring me to tell them all. It was a selfish relief to me to speak. I yielded, and unfolded to them everything that I knew, and everything that I suspected. With a savage delight, I even exaggerated my apprehensions. As I spoke, the pallid group gathered more closely around me-I stood grimly and loftily among them-I harangued them on the worthlessness of lives ignobly preserved, and, at length, when I could proceed no further, from the agitation that was suffocating me, in a sepulchral voice, I said, "Dare we not all die together?" There was no answer, at first, in words to the impious appeal. But the death that I had thus madly invoked, seemed already to be levying his first tribute on my mother, my sister, and the Lady Isabella. The first person that broke this awful, this unnatural silence, was my sister. Pressing me still more closely in her arms, she murmured out, "Brother, I am ready to die with you." mind of the playhouse, can do no good. When a man's affairs are embarrassed, what does he do? Why he calls his creditors together, and compromises as well as he can-he makes arrangements, and parts with all, in order that he may have another chance to begin the world again. We are in difficulties-we have made our speculations too rashly-we are in bad hands-we must compound. We must sacrifice a great part of our wealth-perhaps the whole of it," and here the good old gentleman found the words grow husky in his throat. "I shall not be altogether poor-I shall not be wholly a bankrupt, if the villians leave me but my dear wife, my gallant son, and my beautiful, my affectionate daughter." He paused for a few moments, and then assuming a wonderful cheerfulness, he continued, "Ardent, my boy, we'll begin the world again. Were I turned ashore pennyless in any civilized place in the world, my credit is good, sir-I am known. We'll do yet, Ardent-we'll do-no more tragicals-industry and a clean ledger, and all will go well. No time is to be lost. Now to make the best bargain that we can. Retire all of you into the after cabin, and you'll see how I'll manage this Don Mantez." Of course, we obeyed him. No sooner had the breakfasting apparatus been removed, that Mr. Troughton had placed a few papers on the table, with pens and ink, and much apparently to his satisfaction, gave the fore-cabin a little the appearance of a counting-house. He then sent a respectful invitation to the captain, desiring the pleasure of his company for one half hour. I stood upon no ceremony-I felt no hesitation in playing the eaves-dropper. Fearful of some violent result, both Julien and myself armed ourselves with pistols and swords. I saw and heard distinctly all that passed. Don Mantez soon made his appearance. His demeanour was formal, and his manner sullen and determined. He strode up to my poor father as if about to resent an insult, or to avenge an injury. Indeed, his scowling looks caused me involuntarily to examine my priming. My father commenced the conversation by trusting that his guest was well-that the passengers gave him but little trouble "No, no," said my father, interrupting-that they were making a rapid and a us, and who, though greatly affected, appeared to have been the least moved amongst us, "no, no, we can always die when we like. I hope that no one who claims kindred with me, will ever entertain a thought approaching to suicide. It is quite dreadful enough to die in mortal struggle with our brother man. We are truly in a miserable predicament, but tragical speeches, and scenes like those that VOL. III. 5 prosperous voyage, and lamented the late estrangement. He then touched lightly on the inconstancy of the natures, and the fickleness of taste of very young ladies; he was almost jocular-he diplomatized to admiration. To all these pacificatory overtures the captain returned only ghastly and unsatisfactory smileshe looked the thorough villain-yet one whom shame had not entirely deserted, I felt a great temptation already to have a shot at him. ships will give fitting accommodation for so many; these are all that you wish to relieve me from." "And my daughter." "No!" nearly shivering the table with his clenched hand. "Yes, my dear, good sir; she and Ardent must go, whoever stay." "But she is my betrothed, sir—she is my betrothed." Mr. Troughton then came more decidedly to the line in which he wished to bring his very unpleasant companion.. We, in the after-cabin, were all astonished at the magnanimity of the good old manat the sublimity of his self-devotion. With much plausible argument he stated to Mantez, that he thought he had embarked too much wealth in our vessel. (There "Was-we cannot force the inclinawas no disguising the existence of his tions, my noble sir-such pecuniary comchests of doubloons and casks of dollars.) pensation as two umpires may agree upon, It was foolish; it was not like a man of one to be chosen by each of us; and they business; so he intended, and he spoke not agreeing, to choose a refèree, whose with decision, as if it would not admit of decision shall be final, I will very cheerquestion, that, in the very first vessel which fully pay. But the girl, my good sir-the was met with, he would embark the exact fickleness of woman you know-has taken half of his property, and the other pas- an insensible dislike to matrimony. We sengers; and that he would himself re-cannot-she shall not be forced." main in the Santa Anna, with the other half, and proceed with Don Mantez, to New Orleans, the place of their destination. Mr. Troughton said, that it mattered little to where the ship that they should next meet might be bound, for if its port did not suit for me, his son, to make an establishment there, we could take shipping to one more advisable. During this proposition, the captain's dark features seemed to have been spread over with a livid light—never before did I think the human countenance capable of such a demoniac expression. When my father ceased, he spoke in answer very slowly, and with a strong internal emphasis-if such an expression may be used. It was not the emphasis of the voice but of the soul. "But let me understand, Senor Trottoni, if we should fall in with a West Indian to-morrow, you wish to embark your son with half your property in her, in order to proceed to the West Indies." Exactly so; you comprehend me to a miracle." "Or if the ship be bound to London, to New York, or to Amsterdam, the same?" "The same." "Very plain-or if to the East Indies, to Canton, or to Port Jackson ?" 'My father nodded assent. Or, perhaps, even back again to Barcelona-hah?" "Assuredly; for from thence he could take a passage to any part of the world." "It is well arranged-very well arranged indeed." "Come, come," said Mantez, looking still more ferocious, and significantly pulling half out, and sheathing again repeatedly, a superb poniard that he always wore in his bosom, "we understand one another-we understand one another-do not look so surprised; we do, we do." And then he placed his hideous mouth to my father's ear and whispered. I afterwards learned that the words were, "You and yours are in my power, and you know it." "So is any man in the power of any other man, when one of them dares to be a villain. I could never suppose anything base of you, a Spaniard-a hidalgo-one whom I have so liberally paid to protect me. No, no, you can mean nothing towards me but what is strictly honourable, upright, and friendly." "Of course, therefore, I advise you a little to alter your arrangements. The principal features of them are not bad, and if carried into execution, may save us all a great deal of trouble, and, perhaps, something worse. As you suppose, we certainly have too many passengers on board. I will fulfil your wish, when the first ship comes within hail, with this little difference, as my company has lately seemed somewhat distasteful, suppose that all of you went on board the stranger?" "Gladly, O most gladly!" said my father, starting upon his legs with undisguised pleasure. With the exception," said the rascal, with cool and sarcastic deliberation, "I am glad you approve of it, heartily." with the exception of Honoria and the I knew that you would fall into my views; I hope that they keep a good look-out at the mast-head." "The look-out is good, senor. But you are going a little too fast-a little. Let me see," counting on his fingers, "half your property; that very magnificent son of yours. The senora-the good and the godly father, the two cousins, Donna Isabella and Julien, with all their attendants -that hideous black, of course. Few gold." My poor father collapsed into his chair, as if he had been suddenly deprived of all the functions of his life. The mask had then been contemptuously thrown aside by the unprincipled wearer. He had now openly brandished the assassin's dagger he stood confessed before us the robber and the pirate. My friend Julien 'incautiously, at this dreadful crisis, cocked his pistol. The ominous click fell distinotly |