on the subject of preserving health, but says the common rules are best :-exercise without fatigue, generous living without excess, early rising and moderate sleeping. "These," says he, "are the apophthegms of old women; but if they are not attended to, happiness becomes so extremely difficult that very few persons can attain to it."

In a letter to a friend in Holland, he emphatically contends that all people above the condition of laborers are ruined by excess of stimulus and nourishment. “I never yet saw a gentleman," he says, "who ate and drank as little as was reasonable." He once made an elaborate calculation about eating and drinking, and the result showed that he himself, between the ages of ten and seventy, had eaten and drank forty-four horse wagon loads more than would have kept him alive and well; a mass of nourishment which he estimates at the value of £7,000, or about $35,000. Writing to his old friend Lord Murray, he observes: "You are, I hear, attending more to diet than heretofore. If you wish for anything like happiness in the fifth act of life, eat and drink about one-half what you could eat and drink.” And again he tells Sir G. Phillips: "I have had no gout, nor any symptoms of it; by eating little, and drinking only water, I keep body and mind in a serene state, and spare the great toe. Looking back at my past life, I find that all my miseries of body and mind have proceeded from indigestion. Young people in early life should be thoroughly taught the moral, intellectual and physical evils of indigestion."

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'How frantie," exclaims the honest old poet, John Oldham :

"How frantic is the wanton epicure,
Who a perpetual surfeit will endure,
Who places all his chiefest happiness
In the extravagances of excess,

Which wise sobriety esteems but a disease!"

Sir Francis Head often affirmed it as his conviction that almost every malady of the human frame is connected in a greater or less degree with the stomach, and says he never saw a fashionable physician mysteriously consulting the pulse of the patient, or with a silver spoon on his tongue importantly peeping down his throat, without feeling a desire to exclaim :

"Why not tell the poor gentleman at once-Sir, you've eaten too much, you've drank too much, and you've not taken exercise enough!'" That these are the real causes of every one's illness he considers proved by the fact "that those savage nations which live actively and temperately, have only one disorder -death!" The human frame, he maintains, was not created imperfect; it is we ourselves who have made it so. "There exists no donkey in creation so overladen as our stomachs; and it is because they groan under the weight so cruelly imposed upon them that we are seen driving them before us in such herds to one little brunnen."

"Long settings at meat," says Montaigne, "both trouble me and do me harm; for perhaps from having, for want of something better to do, accustomed myself to it from a child, I eat all the while I sit." Hence he found it expedient to keep out of the way of meals altogether whenever he wished to preserve his vigor for the service of some action of body or mind; "for both the one and the other," he confesses," are cruelly dulled in me by repletion."

In Dr. Chalmers' diary we frequently meet with entries to the following effect: "Incapable of study, and in great physical discomfort. How shameful; and let me here record my humbling sense of it, that this was in great part due to

excess at table, which has made me bilious, and alive to all sorts of plague and persecution."

"My spirits," says Hayden, "are light from pure digestion. I am now convinced that depression of spirits is owing to repletion. [This was written in 1811, and in 1843 he added to the entry this note of confirmation: Thirty-two years' experience.'] I have curtailed my allowance of animal food, and find myself able to work after dinner without interruption," &c.

The study of health, therefore, is a matter of importance, whether we consider it on the selfish grounds of personal comfort, or on the higher principles of duty, as a means of doing good and being good in our generation. "Be temperate and sober," says a learned moralist, "not to spare your purse, but that you may be the better enabled to discharge your duty to God." But how is all this to be done? Must we, then, interrupt our daily avocations and turn to the study of medicine? By no means; for the laws of health are as simple as the elements of arithmetic, it being only necessary that man should open his eyes to perceive the three grand forces that support health-diet, sleep, and exercise; and the three great laws of health-motion, temperance, and rest—are taught to every man by his personal experience. But the difficulty in this as in many other cases, arises not from the want of understanding, but from the will to execute. It has been well observed that in almost every case of duty unfulfilled, or duty imperfectly fulfilled, in consequence of illness, languor, mental depression, &c., there is a high probability, and under the age of sixty-five, almost a certainty, that the main obstacles may be traced to self-neglect.

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Many men fancy that the slight injuries done by each act of intemperance, are like the glomeration of moonbeams upon moonbeams-myriads will not amount to a positive value. Perhaps they are wrong; possibly every act, nay, every separate pulse or throb of intemperate sensation is numbered in our own future actions, reproduces itself in some future perplexity, comes back in some reversionary shape that injures the freedom for action of all men, and makes good men afflicted."

Stanzas.

THE summer flowers are dying, dead;
'Tis time to gather in the grain;
The faded leaves are round us spread,
But yet the autumn fruits remain.
Then yield we not our hearts to grief,
The fruit is better than the leaf.

Nor may we, though our youth be past,
With its buds and bright-eyed flowers,
Send forth our sighs upon the blast,

And cloud the sky with tearful showers.
Oh! rather shall our minds mature

To fruits of worth that shall endure.

So, when the winter of our life
Shall creep all coldly on,

And summer, with its lighter joys,
Shall faded be and gone,

We'll turn to our winter store,

Nor sigh to think the summer o'er.

MARY LEE:

Or the YANKEE in IRELAND.*

BY PETER PINKIE.

Edited by PAUL PEPPERGRASS, Esquire.

CHAPTER XXVII.

As Father Brennan, accompanied by his learned friend, arrived at the courthouse gate, he found the yard filled with people. At the door stood two or three policemen with bayonets in their muskets, keeping out the crowd now clamorous for admission to hear the trial, and on the walls several groups of men and boys peeping in through the windows. As the priest made his appearance, however, the noise ceased for a moment, and the usual whisper ran round, "ta shin saggarth, ta shin saggarth," "there's the priest, there's the priest."

"Stand back," cried a voice with a tone of authority, "stand back and let his reverence pass.'

The priest glanced quickly in the direction of the speaker.

"Who is he?" inquired Horseman.

"The very man—what a fool-hardy crack brain he is, to come here, after carrying off Miss Hardwrinkle. He has'nt got an ounce of sense, that fellow."

"Fall back,” shouted the policemen, "fall back and let the gentlemen into court. Make way there for the gentlemen."

As the latter gained the upper step at the court house door, a loud cheer suddenly broke from some one in the crowd

"Hurrah! there she comes, the darling, hurrah!”

"So hoh!" ejaculated Horseman, turning in his step, "what now!"

"Kate Petersham! I declare it is."

"Hurrah!" shouted the same voice, "there she comes on Moll Pitcher-that's

the girl can sit her horse-just look at her boys."

"Hold on," said Horseman.

"What's the matter?" inquired the priest.

"Look! look! sir, she faces that wall."

"Pooh! that's nothing."

"Good heavens! sir, she'll break her neck."

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Not a bit of it-that girl learned to ride in Galway."

“It's six feet—there!—hold, her horse baulks!

"Baulks!" repeated the priest," that's strange, eh! what can have happened, something she shy'd at, I suspect. Moll Pitcher was never known to baulk in her life before."

*Copy-right secured according to law.

Whilst the priest was yet speaking, Kate rode her horse close up to the wall, as if to show her the difficulty she had to encounter, and then wheeling round cantered back for another start.

"She'll baulk again," said Horseman confidently.

"Wait awhile, we'll see."

Every voice was now hushed, and every eye fixed on the rider, for in truth the leap was dangerous, and the spectators, as might naturally be supposed, felt anxious for the safety of their favorite. The spot where she tried to cross was the only one in the wall accessible for a leap, on account of large rocks which lay along either side for a distance of quarter of a mile or more, and even there the ground rose so abrupt as to put the horse to a perilous disadvantage. Had the rider been aware of the danger before she approached the leap, very likely she had ridden round, and avoided the difficulty, but now having once made the attempt, she was determined to risk everything rather than fail. Perhaps the sight of so many spectators, and the cheers which reached her, had something to do with confirming her resolution.

As the fearless girl turned her horse's head to the wall, she let the reins drop for a moment, and leaning over on the saddle, tightened the girts a hole or two; then adjusting her cap, and patting the spirited animal on the neck, again cantered along at an easy gait.

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'Now!" said the priest "now for it!"

"The girl is decidedly mad, sir," exclaimed Horseman.

"Hush! she raises the whip."

Moll Pitcher knew well what that sign meant, and with a snort and a toss of her saucy head sprung forward with the fleetness of a grey-hound.

"God assist her," muttered the priest to himself, "it's a frightful risk.” "Amen," replied Horseman, catching the words, "amen-though she don't deserve it—her fool-hardiness is unpardonable."

"Now!" ejaculated the priest, unconsciously seizing his friend's arm, "now." As he spoke Kate again raised the whip, and Moll Pitcher rose to the wall. For a minute or more stillness reigned as deep as death. If the animal touched the wall in crossing, horse and rider would both in all probability have been seriously injured, if not killed. If she did not, there was still danger from the broken stony ground on the opposite side.

"Hold!" exclaimed Horseman, "they're both down-look! look!"

The mare rose and stood in an almost perpendicular attitude for a second, as if undecided whether to make the attempt or abandon it. It was an instant of painful anxiety to the spectators; but it was only an instant, for in the next she made the spring and crossed without touching a stone, the foam flying from her mouth and the streamers from her rider's cap floating back in the breeze.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" now broke in one loud burst from the crowd; but the exclamation was suddenly checked, for it was soon found that the rider and horse had both fallen.

"Good heavens! sir, the girl's killed," exclaimed Horseman.

"God forbid!" replied the priest, straining his eyes as he spoke. "She has certainly fallen."

Then a general rush was made towards the gate, each vieing with his neighbor for the credit of being first to reach the ground.

"What means all this uproar?" demanded Captain Petersham, suddenly appearing at the court-house door, accompanied by one of his brother magistrates—“ eh, what has happened?"

"Miss Petersham has fallen, sir, crossing that stone wall,” replied a policeman. Fallen-impossible. What! on Moll Pitcher ?"

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"I fear she's hurt, Captain," said the priest.

"Ah! Father Brennan, you here, too?"

He had hardly uttered the last word, when another wild shout rose that made the very welkin ring again, and there plain to every eye came Kate, firmly seated in her saddle, bounding along the meadow, and waving her handkerchief in acknowledgment of the greeting.

As she jumped the last ditch, a man apparently in diguise (for his clothes seemed to accord little with his figure and gait) advanced and laid his hand on the reins.

"Well Lanty, is the trial over?" demanded Kate, bending to her saddle-bow, and whispering the words.

"No, my lady, it did'nt begin yet."

"Glad of it-I feared I should come late."

"Is your ladyship hurt?"

"Not in the least; no, it was a mere slip."

"Nor Moll Pitcher?"

"Not a particle."

"The darlin," exclaimed Lanty, laying his hand on the mare's neck, "she's as true as steel; oh! my life on her for a million."

"The moment will soon come to try her," said Kate, as Lanty stretched out his arms and lifted her from the saddle. "Are you sure all's ready?"

"Ay, ay, never fear."

"Where is Miss Hardwrinkle ?"

"In the mountains, safe and sound."

"And the police, how many here?" enquired Kate, looking round cautiously. "Not many," responded Lanty; "but don't stay, or the guard will suspect something."

The above conversation passed stealthily and rapidly, under cover of the cheers of the crowd.

“Fall back!” again bawled the police; " fall back there, and make way for the lady."

"Ho! Kate my girl," cried the jolly Captain, snatching his sister up in his arms and kissing her affectionately, as she ascended the steps. "The rascals here would have you hurt or killed, but they little know the metal you're made of nor the gallant bit of flesh that carries you, Kate, eh? A little out of sorts by the fall-bruised or stunned, eh ?”

"Not a whit," responded Kate. "I could ride a steeple chase this moment with the best blood in the country. Ah Father John, you here! I'm glad to see you," and bending reverently, she kissed the priest's hand.

"My dear girl," responded the latter, “I'm delighted to see you unhurt, for I must confess I felt rather anxious."

"O, it was nothing-a mere stumble-the mare lighted on a round stone and fell, that's all. Ah, and Dr. Horseman, too—I'm glad to see you here," she continued, holding out her hand. "You must come up and see us to-morrow at Castle Gregory. Now don't say a word-I shall have no excuse; you must positively come, and you may cut up Swift, too, into mince meat, if you like. Father John I lay my sovereign commands on you to present yourself and Dr. Horseman at Castle Gregory to-morrow."