active and harmonious nervous and mental stimulus will scarcely require any additional evidence; but as the principle is not sufficiently appreciated or acted upon, a few remarks seem still to be called for to enforce its observance. The simple fact that the muscles are expressly constructed for the purpose of fulfilling the commands of the will, might of itself lead to the inference that a healthy mental stimulus ought to be considered an essential condition or accompaniment of exercise; and, accordingly, the muscular action becomes easy and pleasant under the influence of mental excitement, and a vigorous, nervous impulse is useful in sustaining and directing it. On the other hand, how difficult, wearisome, and inefficient muscular contraction becomes when the mind, which directs it, is languid or absorbed by other employments! Hence the superiority, as exercises for the young, of social and inspiriting games, which, by their joyous and boisterous mirth, call forth the requisite nervous stimulus to put the muscles into vigorous and varied action; and hence the utter inefficiency of the dull and monotonous daily walk which sets all physiological conditions at defiance, and which, in so many schools, is made to supersede the exercise which it only counterfeits. Even the playful gambolling and varied movements which are so characteristic of the young of all animals, man not excepted, and which are at once so pleasing and attractive, might have taught us that activity of feeling and affection, and sprightliness of mind, are intended by nature to be the sources and accompaniments of healthful and invigorating muscular exercise; and that the system of bodily confinement and mental cultivation now so much in vogue is calculated to inflict lasting injury on all who are subjected to its restraints. The buoyancy of spirit and comparative independence enjoyed by boys when out of school prevent them from suffering under it so much as girls do; but the mischief done to both is the more unpardonable when it does occur, because it might so easily have been entirely avoided. Even in some infant schools, where properly conducted exercise ought to be considered as a necessary of life, the principle on which I am insisting is so little understood or valued, that no playgrounds have been provided, and the very best means of moral as well as physical training-play with companions-has, to the great injury of the poor children, been wholly omitted. Under judicious direction, the play-ground affords the most valuable and effective aid to the parent and teacher, not only in eliciting the highest degree of physical health, but in developing the gen

eral character by the practical inculcation of moral principle, kindness, and affection, in the daily and hourly conduct of the children committed to their charge. A double evil is thus incurred in its neglect or omission.

Facts, illustrative of the beneficial influence of a mental stimulus as the only legitimate source of muscular activity, abound everywhere, and must be familiar to every reflecting mind; but as the practical influences deducible from them have, to a great extent, escaped the notice of parents and teachers, I shall add a few remarks in their further elucidation.

Everybody knows how wearisome and disagreeable it is to saunter along, without having some object to attain; and how listless and unprofitable a walk taken against the inclination, and merely for exercise, is, compared to the same exertion made in pursuit of an object on which we are intent. The difference is simply, that in the former case the muscles are obliged to work without that full nervous impulse which nature has decreed to be essential to their healthy and energetic action; and that, in the latter, the nervous impulse is in full and harmonious operation. The great superiority of active sports, botanical and geological excursions, gardening and turning, as means of exercise, over mere monotonous movements, is referable to the same principle. Every kind of youthful play and mechanical operation interests and excites the mind, as well as occupies the body, and by thus placing the muscles in the best position for wholesome and beneficial exertion, enables them to act without fatigue, for a length of time which, if occupied in mere walking for exercise, would utterly exhaust their powers.

The elastic spring, the bright eye, the cheerful glow of beings thus excited, form a perfect contrast to the spiritless and inanimate aspect of many of our boardingschool processions; and the results, in point of health and activity, are not less different. So influential, indeed, is the nervous stimulus, that examples have occurred of strong mental emotions having instantaneously given life and vigour to paralytic limbs. This has happened in cases of shipwrecks, fires, and sea-fights, and shows how indispensable it is to have the mind engaged and interested along with the muscles. Many a person who feels ready to drop from fatigue, after a merely mechanical walk, would have no difficulty in subsequently undergoing much continuous exertion in active play or in dancing; and it is absurd, therefore, to say that exercise is not beneficial, when, in reality, proper exercise had not been tried.

The amount of bodily exertion of which soldiers are capable, is well known to be prodigiously increased by the mental stimulus of pursuit, of fighting, or of victory. In the retreat of the French from Moscow, for example, when no enemy was near, the soldiers became depressed in courage, and enfeebled in body, and nearly sank to the earth through exhaustion and cold but no sooner did the report of the Russian guns sound in their ears, or the gleam of hostile bayonets flash in their eyes, than new life seemed to pervade them, and they wielded powerfully the arms which, a few moments before, they could scarcely drag along the ground. No sooner, however, was the enemy repulsed, and the nervous stimulus which animated their muscles withdrawn, than their feebleness returned. Dr. Sparrman, in like manner, after describing the fatigue and exhaustion which he and his party endured in their travels at the Cape, adds,-"yet, what even now appears to me a matter of wonder is, that as soon as we got a glimpse of the game all this languor left us in an instant." On the principle already mentioned, this result is perfectly natural, and in strict harmony with what we observe in sportsmen. cricketers, golfers, skaters, and others, who, moved by a mental aim, are able to undergo a much greater amount of bodily labour than men of stronger muscular frames actuated by no excitement of mind or vigorous nervous impulse. I have heard an intelligent engineer remark the astonishment often felt by country people, at finding him and his town companions, although more slightly made, withstand the fatigues and exposure of a day's surveying better than themselves; but, said he, they overlooked the fact, that our employment gives to the mind, as well as the body, a stimulus which they were entirely without, as their only object was to afford us bodily aid, when required, in dragging the chains, or carrying our instruments.-The conversation of a friend is, in the same way, a powerful alleviator of the fatigue of walking.

The same important principle was implied in the advice which The Spectator tells us was given by a physician to one of the Eastern kings, when he brought him a racket, and told him that the remedy was concealed in the handle, and could act upon him only by passing into the palms of his hands when engaged in playing with it, and that as soon as perspiration was induced, he might desist for the time, as that would be a proof of the medicine being received into the general system. The effect, we are told, was marvellous: and looking to the principle just stated, to the cheerful nervous stimulus arising from the confident expecta

tion of a cure, and to the consequent advantages of exercise thus judiciously managed, we have no reason to doubt that the fable is in perfect accordance with nature.

The story of an Englishman who conceived himself so ill as to be unable to stir, but who was prevailed upon by his medical adviser to go down from London to consult an eminent physician at Inverness who did not exist, may serve as another illustration. The stimulus of expecting the means of cure from the northern luminary was suffi cient to enable the patient not only to bear, but to reap benefit from, the exertion of making the journey down; and his wrath at finding no such person at Inverness, and perceiving that he had been tricked, sustained him in returning, so that on his arrival at home he was nearly cured. Hence also the superiority of battledore and shuttlecock, and similar games, which_require society and some mental stimulus, over listless exercise. It is, in fact, a positive misnomer to call a solemn procession exercise. Nature will not be cheated; and the healthful results of complete cheerful exertion will never be obtained where the nervous impulse which animates the muscles is denied.

It must not, however, be supposed, that a walk simply for the sake of exercise can never be beneficial. If a person be thoroughly satisfied that exercise is requisite, and perfectly willing or rather desirous to obey the call which demands it, he is, from that very circumstance, in a fit state for deriving benefit from it, because the desire then becomes a sufficient nervous impulse, and one in perfect harmony with the muscular action. It is only where a person goes to walk, either from a sense of duty, or at the command of another, but against his own inclination, that exercise is comparatively useless.

This constitution of nature, whereby a mental impulse is required to direct and excite muscular action, points to the propriety of teaching the young to observe and examine the qualities and arrangements of external objects. The most pleasing and healthful exercise may be thus secured, and every step be made to add to useful knowledge and to individual enjoyment. The botanist, the geologist, and the natural historian, experience pleasures in their walks and rambles, of which, from disuse of their eyes and observing powers, the multitude is deprived. This truth is acted upon by many teachers in Germany. In our own country, too, it is beginning to be felt, and one of the professed objects of infant education is to correct the omission. It must not, however, be supposed that any kind of mental activity will give the

:

necessary stimulus to muscular action, and that, in walking, it will do equally well to read a book, or carry on a train of abstract thinking, as to seek the necessary nervous stimulus in picking up plants, hammering rocks, or engaging in games. This were a great mistake; for in such cases the nervous impulse is opposed rather than favourable to muscular action. Ready and pleasant mental activity, like that which accompanies easy conversation with a friend, is indeed beneficial, by diffusing a gentle stimulus over the nervous system; and it may be laid down as a general rule that any agreeable employment of an inspiriting and active kind, and which does not absorb the mind, adds to the advantages of muscular exercise; but wherever the mind is engaged in reading, or in abstract speculation, the muscles are drained, as it were, of their nervous energy, by reason of the great exhaustion of it by the brain the active will to set them in motion is proportionally weakened, and their action is reduced to that inanimate kind I have already condemned as almost useless. From this exposition, the reader will be able to appreciate the hurtfulness of the practice in many boarding-schools of sending out the girls to walk with a book in their hands, and even obliging them to learn by heart while in the act of walking. It would be difficult, indeed, to invent a method by which the ends in view could be more completely defeated, as regards both mind and body. The very effort of fixing the mind on the printed page when in motion strains the attention, impedes the act of breathing, disturbs the nervous influence, and thus deprives the exercise of all its advantages. For true and beneficial exercise there must, in cases where the mind is seriously occupied, be harmony of action between the mind which impels and the part which obeys and acts. The will and the muscles must be both directed to the same end, and at the same time, otherwise the effect will be imperfect. But in reading during exercise, this can never be the case. The force exerted by strong muscles, animated by strong nervous impulse or will, is prodigiously greater than when the impulse is weak or discordant; and as man was made not to do two things at once, but to direct his whole powers to one thing at a time, he has ever excelled most when he has followed this law of his nature.

The Principles of Physiology, etc.

SIR CHARLES LYELL, D.C.L., born at Kinnordy, Forfarshire, Scotland, 1797, graduated at Exeter College, Oxford, 1821, and subsequently studied law, which

he soon abandoned for geology; Professor of Geology in King's College, London, 1832, President of the Geological Society, 1836 and 1850, knighted, 1848, D.C.L. Oxon., 1855, died 1875.

Principles of Geology, Lond., 1830-32-33, 3 vols. 8vo, 9th edit., 1853, 8vo, 10th edit., 1866-68, 8vo, 11th edit., 1872, 8vo; Elements of Geology, Lond., 1838, 12mo, 3d edit.,Manual of Elementary Geology,-1851, 8vo, 4th edit., 1852, 8vo, 5th edit., 1855, 8vo (Supplement, 1857, 8vo), 6th edit., 1865, 8vo; Travels in North America [in 1841 -42], with Geological Observations, Lond., 1845, 2 vols. p. 8vo, 2d edit., 1855, 2 vols. cr. 8vo; A Second Visit to the United States [in 1845-46], Lond., 1849, 2 vols. p. 8vo, 3d edit., 1855, 2 vols. cr. 8vo; The Geological Evidences of the Antiquity of Man, etc., Lond., 1863, 8vo, 2d edit., 1863, 8vo, 3d edit., 1863, 8vo, 4th edit., 1873, 8vo. Also papers in Trans. Geolog. Soc., Edin. Jour., Quart. Review, etc.

"Mr. Buckland, Professor Sedgwick, and Sir Charles Lyell are the most eminent of the new school of geology which has sprung up simultaneously in France and England, and which, by a strict application of the Baconian method of philosophizing, has made earth reveal the secret

of its formation anterior to the race of man, by the remains imbedded in its bosom. A more fascinat

ing inquiry never was presented to the investigation of the philosopher; and it derives additional interest to the Christian believer from the confirmation which it affords, at every step, of the Mosaic account of creation and the truth of Holy

Writ."

1815-1852, chap. v. "-SIR ARCHIBALD ALISON: Hist. of Europe,

See also Edin. Rev., July, 1839, July, 1863, (London) Quar. Rev., July, 1849, Oct. 1851, N. Brit. Rev., Feb. 1851, N. Amer. Rev., Oct. 1845, and Ticknor's Life of Prescott, 1864, 4to.

CHANGES IN LANGUAGE.

But another important question still remains to be considered, namely, whether the trifling changes which can alone be witnessed by a single generation, can possibly represent the working of that machinery which, in the course of many centuries, has given rise to such mighty revolutions in the forms of speech throughout the world. Every one may have noticed in his own lifetime the stealing in of some slight alterations of accent, pronunciation, or spelling, or the introduction of some words borrowed from a foreign language to express ideas of which no native term precisely conveyed the import. He may also remember hearing for the first time some cant terms or slang phrases, which have since forced their way into common use, in spite of the efforts of the purist. But he may still contend that "within the range of his experience" his language has continued unchanged, and he may believe in its im

at Prillisk, in the parish of Clogher, County of Tyrone, Ireland, 1798, died 1869.

Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry, Dubl., 1830, 2 vols. 8vo (anon.), Second Series, 1832, 2 vols. 8vo, both, 1836, 5 vols. small 8vo, and also Lond., 1853, 5 vols. 16mo; Father Butler, Phila., 1835, 18mo; Fardarough the Miser, 1839, new edit., Dubl., 1846, 16mo; The Fawn of Spring Vale, The Clarionet, and other Tales, Dubl., 1841, 3 vols. p. 8vo; Art Maguire, Dubl., 1841, 16mo; Denis O'Shaughnessy Going to Maynooth, Lond., 1845, 16mo; Valentine MeClutchy, Dubl., 1848, 8vo, new edit., 1845, 3 vols. p. 8vo; The Black Prophet, Dubl., 1847, 12mo; The Squanders of Castle Squander, Lond., 1852, 2 vols. 12mo ; Willie Reilly, 1855, 3 vols. p. 8vo. See (London) Quart. Review, Oct. 1841.

Never was that wild, imaginative people better described; and amongst all the fun, frolic, and folly, there is no want of poetry, pathos, and passion."-PROFESSOR JOHN WILSON.

AN IRISH VILLAGE AND SCHOOL-HOUSE. The village of Findamore was situated at the foot of a long green hill, the outline of which formed a low arch, as it rose to the eye against the horizon. This hill was studded with clumps of beeches, and sometimes enclosed as a meadow. In the month of July, when the grass on it was long, many an hour have I spent in solitary enjoyment, watching the wavy motion produced on its pliant surface by the sunny winds, or the flight of the cloud shadows, like gigantic phantoms, as they swept rapidly over it, whilst the murmur of the rocking trees, and the glaring of their bright leaves in the sun, produced a heartfelt pleasure, the very memory of which rises in my imagination like some fading recollection of a brighter world.

At the foot of this hill ran a clear deepbanked river, bounded on one side by a slip of rich level meadow, and on the other by a kind of common for the village geese, whose white feathers during the summer season lay scattered over its green surface. It was also the play-ground for the boys of the village school; for there ran that part of the river which, with very correct judgment, the urchins had selected as their bathing-place. A little slope or watering ground in the bank brought them to the edge of the stream, where the bottom fell away into the fearful depths of the whirlpool under the hanging oak on the other bank. Well do I remember the first time I ventured to swim across it, and even yet do I see in imagination the two bunches of water-flags on which the inexperienced swimmers trusted themselves in the water.

About two hundred yards above this, the boreen [little road], which led from the village to the main road, crossed the river by one of those old narrow bridges whose arches rise like round ditches across the road,-an almost impassable barrier to horse and car. On passing the bridge in a northern direction, you found a range of low-thatched houses on each side of the road; and if one o'clock, the hour of dinner, drew near, you might observe columns of blue smoke curling up from a row of chimnics, some made of wicker creels plastered over with a rich coat of mud, some of old bottomless tubs, and others, with a greater appearance of taste, ornamented with thick circular robes of straw, sewed together like bees' skeps with the peel of a brier; and many having nothing but the open vent above. But the smoke by no means escaped by its legitimate aperture, for you might observe little clouds of it bursting out of the doors and windows. The panes of the latter being mostly stopped at other times with old hats and rags, were now left entirely open for the purpose of giving it a free escape.

But,

Before the doors, on right and left, was a series of dunghills, each with its concomitant sink of green rotten water; and if it happened that a stout-looking woman, with watery eyes, and a yellow cap hung loosely upon her matted locks, came with a chubby urchin on one hand, and a pot of dirty water in her hand, its unceremonious ejection in the aforesaid sink would be apt to send you up the village with your forefinger and thumb (for what purpose you would yourself perfectly understand) closely, but not knowingly, applied to your nostrils. independently of this, you would be apt to have other reasons for giving your horse, whose heels are by this time surrounded by a dozen of barking curs and the same number of shouting urchins, a pretty sharp touch of the spurs, as well as for complaining bitterly of the odour of the atmosphere. It is no landscape without figures: and you might notice-if you are, as I suppose you to be, a man of observation-in every sink as you pass along, "a slip of a pig" stretched in the middle of the mud, the very beau-ideal of luxury, giving occasionally a long luxuriant grunt, highly expressive of his enjoyment; or, perhaps an old farrower, lying in indolent repose, with half a dozen young ones jostling each other for their draught, and punching her belly with their little snouts, reckless of the fumes they are creating; whilst the loud crow of the cock, as he confidently flaps his wings on his own dunghill, gives the warning note for the hour of dinner.

As you advance, you will also perceive several faces thrust out of the doors, and