over the cobbler's last, the tailor's bench, the dentist's chair, at the easel, the desk-all these must suffer likewise, unless the outdoor air and exercise is sufficient to neutralize the injury. Most men have the desire, as well as the opportunity, for this free, active stir after the confinement of the day. It is no unusual thing for the horse-car to roll by unnoticed while they walk home from the office or the store, with the energetic stride and deep inspiration which does more than anything else to repair the waste of the day. Too true is it that while "man works till set of sun, woman's work is never done," giving her little opportunity, even if she had the desire, to escape from her daily bondage, leaving physical toil and mental care behind her.

"Oh, that is a medicine which cures everything," we hear said in a contemptuous tone and with a shrug of the shoulders; "I have no faith in it for that reason." But many diseases spring from one source, assuming in different persons different forms, dependent upon peculiarities of constitution and temperament. What causes rheumatism in one, may in another develop into pleurisy or dyspepsia, bronchitis or fever. The delicate woman lying on the lounge with headache, and the portly man braced in his chair with gout, may seem to need utterly different medicines and styles of treatment, but the physician knows that they differ only as types of the same species. A bad state of the blood has a hundred ways of manifestation, and chooses with seeming capriciousness divers afflictions for its many victims. The lack of proper nourishment for the blood is one cause of its impurity, and impure blood is one of the most common causes of all disease. In no way can it be so effectually defrauded of its food as by wrong habits of breathing, which diminish its supply of oxygen, impair its circulation, and cripple every function of the body.

Nature revenges herself for our neglect of any physical or mental power by depriving us of its use. The positions of body which cramp or hinder the action of the muscles of the diaphragm, will in time weaken these muscles, and limit the power, even if there is inclination, to draw a full, deep breath. The muscles should not be allowed to grow weak from disuse; respiration should not be confined to the upper part of the lungs; the chest should not be required to do the work of the diaphragm; the habit of breathing fully and deeply should be firmly established. The prevention of these things is plain, easy, requiring but little time, slight exertion, no medicine, and no money.

All that is needed is an erect position of the body, expanded chest, and deep inspiration in the pure air. The elasticity and vigor of all the muscles can be greatly increased by percussion by patting. Such exercise should be oftenest taken by those whose employments are sedentary. Let the public school-teacher, who finds her scholars growing noisy in proportion as she grows nervous, open all the windows, and for two minutes keep the children on their feet, while they exercise the chest by moderate percussion, and the lungs by long, deep, energetic breathing. The rest and refreshment will be far out of proportion to the time and effort expended in this simple way. Such exercise will be beneficial to any one who will take it, and is the surest cure for the temporary depression of spirits, slight headaches, and fatigue which often follow too long confinement indoors, or application to any special work. Its simplicity makes many skeptical concerning its efficacy, and experience, like that of the old man who attributed his long life and health to having "plenty of God's pure air from an open east winder," is the only thing which can prove to unbelievers the great value of exercise as preventive and cure.

Much of the difficulty in reading aloud lies in "getting out of breath." There is no obstacle so common, yet none so easily overcome. The lungs should be filled before beginning to read, and refilled at every convenient pausealways before they are exhausted. With a little practice every one-even those with weak vocal organs and small breathing capacity-can acquire the "knack" of keeping the lungs sufficiently filled, and doing it so quickly and quietly as to avoid drawing attention to the process. No good singer, actor, or reader is ever out of breath, even when appearing to be so for the purpose of producing a certain effect.-Phrenological Journal.

A LIBERAL EDUCATION.

THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY.

SUPPOSE it were perfectly certain that the life and fortune of every one of us would, one day or other, depend upon his winning or losing a game of chess. Don't you think that we should all consider it to be a primary duty to learn at least the names and the moves of the pieces; to have a notion of a gambit, and a keen eye for all the means of giving and getting out of check? Do you not think that we should look with a disapprobation amounting to scorn upon the father who allowed his son, or the state which allowed its members, to grow up without knowing a pawn from a knight?

Yet it is a very plain and elementary truth that the life, the fortune, the happiness of every one of us and, more or less, of those who are connected with us, do depend upon our knowing something of the rules of a game infinitely more difficult and complicated than chess. It is a game which

has been played for untold ages, every man and woman of us being one of the two players in a game of his or her own. The chess-board is the world; the pieces are the phenomena of the universe; the rules of the game are what we call the laws of Nature. The player on the other side is hidden from us. We know that his play is always fair, just, and patient. But also we know, to our cost, that he never overlooks a mistake, or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance. To the man who plays well, the highest stakes are paid, with that sort of overflowing generosity with which the strong shows delight in strength. And one who plays ill is checkmated, without haste, but without re

morse.

What I mean by Education is learning the rules of this mighty game. In other words, education is the instruction of the intellect in the laws of Nature, under which name I include not merely things and their forces, but men and their ways; and the fashioning of the affections and of the will into an earnest and loving desire to move in harmony with those laws. For me, education means neither more nor less than this. Anything which professes to call itself education must be tried by this standard, and if it fails to stand the test, I will not call it education, whatever may be the force of authority or of numbers upon the other side.

It is important to remember that, in strictness, there is no such thing as an uneducated man. Take an extreme case. Suppose that an adult man, in the full vigor of his faculties, could be suddenly placed in the world as Adam is said to have been, and then left to do as he best might. How long would he be left uneducated? Not five minutes. Nature would begin to teach him, through the eye, the ear, the touch, the properties of objects. Pain and pleasure would be at his elbow, telling him to do this and avoid

that; and by slow degrees the man would receive an education, which, if narrow, would be thorough, real, and adequate to his circumstances, though there would be no extras and very few accomplishments.

Thus the question of compulsory education is settled so far as Nature is concerned. Her bill on that question was framed and passed long ago. But ignorance is visited as sharply as willful disobedience; incapacity meets with the same punishment as crime. Nature's discipline is not even a word and a blow, and the blow first; but the blow without the word. It is left to you to find out why your ears are

boxed.

That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who has been so trained in youth that his body is the ready servant of his will, and does with ease and pleasure all the work that, as a mechanism, it is capable of; whose intellect is a clear, cold, logic engine, with all its parts of equal strength and in smooth working order; ready like a steam engine to be turned to any kind of work, and spin the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of the mind; whose brain is stored with a knowledge of the great and fundamental truths of Nature and of the laws of her operations; one, who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, but whose passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to love all beauty, whether of nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and to respect others as himself.

Such an one and no other, I conceive, has had a liberal education; for he is, as completely as a man can be, in harmony with Nature. He will make the best of her and she of him. They will get on together rarely; she as his ever beneficent mother; he as her mouthpiece, her conscious self, her minister and interpreter,-Lay Sermons.