hands; but it was doubtful whether his death was caused by a fit of apoplexy or by the violence of his fall.

At an early hour the melancholy fact had passed through the village and the neighbourhood, and one of the first to hear it was Caleb Ford. The eternal condition of the drunkard instantly flashed on his mind, and his heart sank within him at the thought; the next was the inquiry, "What can I do to turn this affecting death to any good account?" He knew its bearing on himself; he was deeply concerned that it might have a salutary influence on others. "I am not a minister," he said to himself, "or I could find many a text to urge on the minds and hearts of those accustomed to gather around me; but I can tell my neighbours what I think about temperance, and this may be of service." Everywhere he went that morning, Jacob's death was uppermost; his purpose was, therefore, naturally and easily introduced, and no difficulty arose either to prevent or delay its accomplishment.

"I should like, my friends," he said, when all were assembled, "to say a few words to you about the best means of promoting health and continuing life, so far as they are dependent on the regulation of the appetite; and I am glad to see so many of you ready to listen to what, with a sincere and anxious concern for your welfare, I desire to communicate. And here may be mentioned the remarkable fact, that as there is constantly going on in the human frame a process of waste, so there must be also, for the continuance of life and health, a corresponding process of supply. Most wisely and graciously has the Great Creator and Benefactor of our race adapted the one to the other. Apart from growth or disease, whatever may be the quantity of food taken, or the circumstances in which it is received, it is found that the same individual, after having increased in weight to the extent of about what is taken, will return, in the space of twenty-four hours, to nearly the same standard."

"That is very singular," said Watkins: "I should like to know what you think, Mr. Ford, about George Bradshaw's notion that we should live on nothing but vegetables. It seems to me that they could not keep up a proper supply." "My view," replied Caleb, "is certainly at variance with George Bradshaw's. The structure of our teeth and

of our stomachs clearly shows to me that our diet was not intended to be restricted to one of the kingdoms of nature. It is possible for man to subsist exclusively either on animal or vegetable food; but the most perfect development of the frame, the highest mental vigour, and the soundest health, are found among those who combine both in their ordinary sustenance. Experience, however, proves that more vegetable than animal food is generally salutary; but here there is a variation according to circumstances. A person of sedentary habits will be oppressed, and even become diseased, by an amount of animal food which would be necessary to health and vigour when there is strong and violent exercise."

66

"I can clearly understand that," said Clare; young Edwards, who is the most delicate and tender young man I know, and who is again at home to get up his health, has a small piece of toast and a cup of milk-and-water for his breakfast; while I should soon be faint if I had not plenty of what is solid and good; and yet I think I am no glutton."

"I fully believe you are not," said Caleb; "and I think you will find that a due admixture of animal and vegetable substances is best for you all. Let us now look, for a moment, at the receptacle for our food; well may it receive our frequent and grateful consideration. The inner coat, or covering of the stomach, is provided with innumerable little teats, from which issues a pure, limpid, colourless fluid. This is the gastric juice. It does not appear to accumulate during fasting, and it generally requires food, or some other stimulus, in order to its discharge. And here it is especially worthy of remark, that its quantity is more proportioned to the wants of the system than to the amount of food received; so that if there be any excess of food, mischief arises. Ellis the miller, and Jeffrey the brewer, have their hoppers so contrived, that only a certain quantity of wheat should be supplied to the millstones, or of malt to the rollers. Only let the supply be excessive, and the machine will either stop or some part of it will give way."

"Ay, that it will, Mr. Ford," said Clare, "as I have often seen; apply too much steam to a locomotive, and there will soon be a burst and even the bellows of my forge requires to be managed so that there may not be too much fire.' "Exactly so," rejoined Caleb; "and,

:

in like manner, if an excess of food be taken, there will be always left a mass of undigested matter, producing irritation, pain, and disease. It is true, that some persons who eat excessively, affirm that they suffer no inconvenience, or that if there be a slight fulness or oppression, it soon passes away. But, though the injury may not be felt at the time, it is no less real: often does it lay the basis of permanent disease, or hasten the termination of life. And most beneficently is it ordered that the stomach should refuse to digest a superfluity of food; were it otherwise, there would be an undue quantity of blood, and, as the result, paralysis, apoplexy, death!

"But again: the stomach has an outer or muscular coat, in which are bundles of fibres, so arranged that, by alternately contracting and relaxing, they may straiten and lengthen the diameter of the stomach in all directions, and thus thoroughly mix up the gastric fluid with the food; while, by another action, the outer part of the mass which is most reduced, is forced to the lower end of the stomach, and through that into the highest portion of the intestines, so that the food which has hitherto been less affected, may be now acted on fully.

"The mass thus digested is called chyme it is semi-fluid, grayish, and has a slightly acid taste; but another change takes place, for the liver gives forth its bile and the pancreas its juice, so that it may become chyle. It is now taken up by the lacteals, which are prepared to select every nutritious particle, and to reject whatever else there may be in the fluid; and then, by others, it is conducted to the heart, and having been duly acted upon by the atmosphere inhaled in breathing, it is fitted to take its part in the general circulation."

"That is very wonderful, Mr. Ford," said Sims; "I never understood it before; but now I see, that as whatever the body wants comes from the blood, so the food keeps up a fresh supply of this fluid: then, I should think, whatever makes blood most readily is the best for us."

"Just so," said Caleb; "thus animal food is not only digestible, but nutritious, and its proximate principles are similar to those of the human frame. The principal of these are fibrine, as the fibre of flesh which has been long boiled-the remains of meat, for example, boiled down for soup, and which is the most

nutritious of all; gelatine, which is found as in chicken, calf's-foot, and, unlike fibrine, is most easily digested; albumen, as the white of an egg; and oil, both of which require to be combined with other substances. Let there, then, be taken a proper quantity of animal food, with, as we have seen, a due proportion of vegetables; and though in every movement of a limb or a muscle there is a physical loss, and when toil is hard and continuous the loss is great, the means are provided by which, under the blessing of God, it may be fully repaired, and health and strength be enjoyed."

"It is plain, Mr. Ford," said Hilton, "that we take a great many things that only do us mischief."

"Beyond all question," said Caleb; "and we need not ramble far to observe the consequences of so doing. Look, for example, at that man, whose bloated body, flushed countenance, and fœtid breath, whatever be his pretences, or efforts at concealing his gross vice, declare him to be intemperate. Mark his redness of eyes; for his depraved habits cause his visual organs to become inflamed and weak, and hence the tears that so frequently start forth and moisten his cheeks. His face is of the same hue-a perfect contrast to the freshness of health; for its pimples and inflammation prove that peccant humours have been generated, and come to supply the vacancy of proper nutrition. Observe that tremulous hand, which shows that a destroyer is approaching the very citadel of life. Ah! could you see the drunkard when he rises in the morning, you would have evidence that then this relaxation of the joints and trembling of the nerves are specially experienced. His system is like a clock which has run down; and, to wind it up again, he increases the mischief by the dram of spirits or of opium to which he repairs. It is adding poison to that which already revels and riots in his frame. The liver, too, contracts, and no longer prepares the secretions which are necessary to change food into blood; digestion is impaired; the loss of appetite ensues; the stomach is given up to indigestion, fermentation, and acidity; the heart is the seat of trouble and violence; the brain is disordered and inflamed; the temper is like a train of gunpowder prepared for ignition by any spark, or ungovernable and violent as the helm driven hither and thither by raging winds and mountain waves; the soul is filled with

darkness and terror; and when the man dies, you may write on his tombstone'A suicide,' as truly and emphatically as if he had put a razor to his throat, or rushed headlong into the river."

"That is a terrible picture, Mr. Ford," said Watkins; "but I fear it is too true. I should be sorry to reckon up all I have seen in my time, who, I have thought, killed themselves by drink. And then, when I have had to go to our quarter sessions, how many persons have been charged for what they did when intoxicated."

"I have observed the same thing," said Caleb, "at the assizes, and at all the London courts I have ever attended. Mr. Justice Patteson, recently addressing a jury, said: 'If it were not for this drinking, you and I should have nothing to do!' Mr. Justice Erskine, when lately sentencing one who considered himself a gentleman to six months' hard labour, for a crime committed through strong drink, declared that ninety-nine out of every hundred criminal cases were to be traced to the same cause. Mr. Justice Coleridge, not very long ago, went so far as to say, 'that he never knew a charge brought before him that was not, either directly or indirectly, connected with intoxicating liquors.' And it has been attested, in evidence before the House of Commons, that more than half of our lunatics are plunged into all the miseries of insanity through strong drink. We have heard of victims slain at the altars of idols; but where is there a Moloch like that of intemperance? Where others have massacred its hundreds, this has destroyed millions.'

"I know a man," said Hilton, "who seems scarcely ever sober, and perhaps you know him, too, Mr. Ford: do you think that he is utterly lost?"

"I do," said Caleb, "except on the alternative of a prompt and entire abstinence from all that is intoxicating. No palliative will do. Every plea for any, is only one for a greater or less degree of mischief to the body and the mind. It assumes that, though absolutely stripped of its cogs, the wheel would not work, yet that some may be removed with impunity; that though one oar may be smashed, the boat may be easily and safely landed with the other. In the case of the drunkard, the unnatural war that has been carried on against health and life must at once be brought to a close, and only then will the spring of existence recover its

'I certainly am," replied Caleb; "and it would be well if the obligations of all nature to it were fully known. No other liquid than water can yield that which is necessary for the seed to germinate, the branches and roots to shoot forth, the leaves to unfold, the flowers to open, and the fruit to expand. A large amount of fluid is exhaled from the leaves, but the process may go on to any extent, so long as the plant is freely supplied with water. Water, therefore, contributes to the fabric, though the most gigantic in the vegetable world, and is equally essential to all its products. Nor is animal life less dependent on its presence. Whatever animal substance we deprive of its liquid by drying, whether the soft mass of a jellyfish or the hard shell of a lobster or a crab, the soft nerves and muscles of a human body, or its hard bones and teeth, nothing escapes but water. It is water alone that can dissolve the substances taken into the stomach; and its power as a. solvent depends on its purity. The gastric juice itself is only water, with a little acid, and a small quantity of animal matter. It is water that forms all the fluid portion of the blood, which, mingled with the solid matter of the various textures, gives them the consistency they require, and which frees the system from whatever would encumber or do it injury."

"Well, Mr. Ford," said Hilton, "after what you have told us, I think we must all try and be more temperate."

"I shall rejoice," said Caleb, "in any real and solid improvement. It is possible, however, to suppose that what is called temperance, or a due regulation of appetite, is everything. But I would have you all to consider it is not. There is a wide difference, indeed, between the temperance of impulse and excitement, and that of enlightened and sound principle. The claims of God must be regarded, or we shall never rightly attend to the claims which are personal. A man

may be moral without being religious; he must be religious in the highest and best sense of the term to be approved of God. But I have now accomplished the purpose I entertained; I shall be both glad and thankful to find it is attended with any personal or relative benefit." Caleb's party left him with varied emotions; but mány felt much, though they spoke little; and as he closed the door, he said to himself, "I wonder whether I can do anything for the poor widow and children of Jacob Hudson: if I am spared till to-morrow, I must see and do whatever is practicable."

C. W.

ALAN QUINTIN'S INQUIRIES.

DO YOU THINK ON THE PAST AND THE FUTURE?

WE all think of the present; our wants and our welfare require it; present hopes and present fears, present joys and present griefs, agitate or influence our minds. It is so; it will be; it must be so; it cannot be otherwise. The present has a claim on our time, but not on all our time; it has a claim on our thoughts, but not on all our thoughts. Do you think on the past and on the future?

Do seasons past appear before your eyes,
And scenes of future gloom and glory rise?

Those that love pleasure more than profit, think of little else than the present; they like the present, cling to the present, enjoy the present, praise the present, and have abundant proverbs that uphold the present: "The present hour is worth the future year." "One to-day is worth ten to-morrows.' "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." All these are good when properly used, but they use them improperly. The foolish think only of the present, but the wise think on the past and the future.

Sometimes the past is hung with shadows; our cares and griefs, our losses and crosses, our errors, our terrors, and our tears, rise uppermost in our view. At other times it is gilded with sunshine our happy childhood, our youthful sports, our holidays, our hopes and our expectations spring to our remembrance, and we are once more young, and light-hearted, and happy. Such is the past, dark or light, welcome or forbidding, according to the scenes that appear before us :

These by-gone scenes our conscious senses bind, As Memory's pencil paints them on the mind. The future is clear or clouded, as hope looks upon it, or despondency. As the past affects the present, so the present affects the future. How is it with you? Is there a storm gathering, or has the tempest passed by? Are the skies yet dark, or is there a bow in the cloud? Some in their future gee heaven opening before them; others see nothing but fearfulness and coming judgment. Do you think on the future, and persuade others to think upon it? The future should be regarded as a good, a boon, a blessing for which we cannot be sufficiently thankful.

Do you try to get good from the past by profiting from your experience? You know more than you did; are you wiser and better for your knowledge? You have seen your errors; are you striving to amend them? Are you less thoughtless, less rash, less confident in yourself? Are you more humble, more careful, more given to doubt your own judgment? Do you think more lowly of yourself, and more highly of your heavenly Father? The past should make the proud humble, the rash careful, the foolish wise, and the wise man wiser than ever:

Be thine the calm or storm, the breeze or blast, Be wise betimes, and ponder on the past.

Do you try to get profit from the future? Are you drawn to good by your hopes of future joy? Are you driven from evil by your fears of future woe? Do you look on the future? think on the future? provide for the future? The heedless fly may wing his way into the web of the spider, and the excited moth may singe her spotted wings, they see not the future; but you have thought and understanding, turn them to profit by bringing them to bear upon the future. A sunny future lightens the burden, heals the sore, sweetens the toil, nerves the spirit, and cheers the heart. Alan Quintin asks you again, if you think on the past and the future?

Do you make the past a means of glorifying God by calling to remembrance his mercies? Has he created you, preserved you, and redeemed you? Has the angel of his presence been with you in childhood and youth, manhood and years? Has he guarded you, guided you, borne with you, and forgiven you, and strewn with a liberal hand your paths with blessings? Has he done all this, and are you forgetting him? Oh, call to

mind his mercies! Glorify him by bringing the past to your remembrance, and bless him, and praise him, and magnify his holy name :

Look back on all the paths thy feet have trod,
And bless and praise and glorify thy God.

Do you honour God by your thoughts on the future? by believing him? by trusting him? by resting your hope and your all on him? by calculating on the fulfilment of his promises? and by saying, not with your lips, but with your heart, "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee?" This is the way to change winter into summer, and sorrow into joy! This is the spirit that will lift you from the earth, and give you wings on your way to the skies!

But think not that Alan Quintin is always doing what he recommends you to do; that he is looking back to the past and forward to the future as often as he ought to do; he knows that he is not, and it is the knowledge of his own negligence that leads him to suspect yours. If, then, we have both lost our way, let us both try to find it. If we have both fallen into the bog, let us help one another out of it. Let us profit by the past, improve the present, and be encouraged by the future that is before us :

Our mercies past, when present cares annoy, Should gild our hopes of future peace and joy. "What makes you think that God will never forsake those that trust in him?" was asked of an aged Christian. "Because he has promised," was the reply. "And what makes you think that he will keep his word?" "Because he never yet broke it." Here is encouragement for us all! Here is enough to make us cry aloud, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him!" The past declares God's faithfulness, the present confirms it, and the future will only make known more clearly his fidelity and truth. Do you think of the past and the future? and is the present made brighter by them both? We judge our earthly friends by what they do, rather than by what they say, and why not judge of our heavenly Friend by the same rule? Ask, then, the question, Christian reader, what has God done for thee? or rather, what has he not done for thee? Has he not made thee? given thee thy faculties of body, soul, and spirit? placed thee in a beautiful world? afforded thee the means of

grace, and the hope of glory? Yea, given his Son to die for thee upon the cross, prepared for thee a mansion of boundless bliss, and put into thy hand his holy word to comfort thee on earth and guide thee in the way to heaven! Surely thy cup runneth over with blessings! Surely the past, present, and future, will hardly suffice thee in setting forth his glory:

To sing his praise let heart and soul be given, Sing loud on earth, and louder still in heaven!

and soon will be the future. Hours, days, The past has already been the present, and years, like riches, make to themselves wings and fly away; let them bear on their wings some record of our love, our gratitude and joy. Let us so ponder on what is, was, and will be, that the past, praise to the Redeemer, and promote the the present, and the future may give peace of our own souls.

WOLVERTON.

AMONG the millions of passengers who annually travel by railway in Great Britain,* few have at all an adequate idea of the extent or completeness of the arrangements necessary for the efficient working of establishments at once so vast and so complicated in their details. Opportunity has already been obtained of describing the depôt at the metropolitan terminus of the London and NorthWestern Railway, and it may not now be uninteresting to give a brief insight of the great locomotive repairing station of the southern division of this line.

"The age of great cities" has been a theme worthy the attention of the most profound and philosophical minds, and still involves problems which even they have been unable to solve. Nor is the history of many of the towns of our own land devoid of interest. Circumstances new, and often unanticipated, have not unfrequently collected together masses of population which would otherwise have been spread over extensive districts. Thus it is with the railway towns of this country, which have arisen with the exigencies of the time. Crewe with its 8,000 inhabitants, Swindon with 3,000,

*During the half-year ending December 31st, 1848, the number of passengers amounted to 31,630,291; the number of miles of railway open being 5,079.