sionally only do we meet with an example of vigorous health continued to old age; hourly do we meet with examples of acute disorder, chronic ailment, general debility, premature decrepitude. Scarcely is there one to whom you put the question, who has not, in the course of his life, brought upon himself illnesses which a little knowledge would have saved him from. Here is a case of heart disease consequent on a rheumatic fever that followed reckless exposure. There is a case of eyes spoiled for life by overstudy. Yesterday the account was of one whose long-enduring lameness was brought on by continuing, spite of the pain, to use a knee after it had been slightly injured. And to-day we are told of another who has had to lie by for years, because he did not know that the palpitation he suffered from resulted from overtaxed brain. Now we hear of an irremediable injury that followed some silly feat of strength; and, again, of a constitution that has never recovered from the effects of excessive work needlessly undertaken. While on all sides we see the perpetual minor ailments which accompany feebleness. Not to dwell on the natural pain, the weariness, the gloom, the waste of time and money thus entailed, only consider how greatly ill-health hinders the discharge of all duties makes business often impossible and always more difficult; produces an irritability fatal to the right management of children; puts the functions of citizenship out of the question, and makes amusement a bore. Is it not clear that the physical sins-partly our forefathers' and partly our own — which produce this ill-health, deduct more from complete living than anything else, and to a great extent make life a burden instead of a benefaction and a pleasure?

To all of which add the fact that life, besides being thus immensely deteriorated, is also cut short. It is not true, as we commonly suppose, that a disorder or a disease from which we have recovered leaves us as before. No disturbance of the normal course of the functions can pass away and leave things exactly as they were. In all cases a permanent damage is done. not immediately appreciable, it may be, but still there; and, along with other such items which Nature in her strict account-keeping never drops, will tell against us to the inevitable shortening of our days. Through the accumulations of small injuries it is that constitu

tions are commonly undermined, and break down, long before their time. And if we call to mind how far the average duration of life falls below the possible duration, we see how immense is the loss. When, to the numerous partial deductions which bad health entails, we add this great final deduction, it results that, ordinarily, more than one-half of life is thrown away.

Hence, knowledge which subserves direct self-preservation by preventing this loss of health, is of primary importance. We do not contend that possession of such knowledge would by any means wholly remedy the evil. For it is clear that in our present phase of civilization men's necessities often compel them to transgress. And it is clear further that, even in the absence of such compulsion, their inclinations would frequently lead them, spite of their knowledge, to sacrifice future good to present gratification. But we do contend that the right knowledge impressed in the right way would effect much; and we further contend that as the laws of health must be recognized before they can be fully conformed to, the imparting of such knowledge must precede more rational living- come when that may. We infer that as vigorous health and its accompanying high spirits are larger elements of happiness than any other things whatever, the teaching how to maintain them is a teaching that yields in moment to no other whatever. And, therefore, we assert that such a course of physiology as is needful for the comprehension of its general truths, and their bearings on daily conduct, is an all-essential part of a rational education.

Strange that the assertion should need making! Stranger still that it should need defending! Yet there are not a few by whom such a proposition will be received with something approaching to derision. Men who would blush if caught saying Iphigénia instead of Iphigenía, or would resent as an insult any imputation of ignorance respecting the fabled labors of a fabled demi-god, show not the slightest shame in confessing that they do not know where the Eustachian tubes are, what are the actions of the spinal cord, what is the normal rate of pulsation, or how the lungs are inflated. While anxious that their sons should be well up in the superstitions of two thousand years ago, they care not that they should be taught anything about the structure and functions of

their own bodies nay, would even disapprove such instruction. So overwhelming is the influence of established routine! So terribly in our education does the ornamental override the useful! Herbert Spencer.

EXERCISE LVIII.

PERSUASION BY APPEAL TO SOCIAL DUTY.

Subjects:

A Soft Answer Turneth Away Wrath. - Prov. xv. 1.
Cultivate Courtesy.

The Exercise of Intelligence in Voting.

Shall We Foster the Spirit of Patriotism?

Few if any of us live entirely to ourselves; we may not therefore live entirely for ourselves. As long as we continue to be the sociable creatures we are and take pleasure in human companionship, so long shall we recognize that there are certain duties which we owe to others in addition to the duties which we owe to ourselves. And just in proportion as any man conceives of this altruistic duty as paramount to the egoistic one is he hailed as philanthropist, public benefactor, patriot, hero, martyr. To say that the selfish ambition to shine in these roles is in all cases the leading motive is to malign human nature, to make men out more selfish than some of the lower animals. These social duties are as a rule cheerfully performed and quite as often from instinct as from training and habit. They range from the unwritten laws of courtesy that are observed in our everyday intercourse to the codes which

bind together into one political and social organization entire communities and nations.

We recognize these duties and are in the main willing to fulfill them. And yet, as with so many other things, we sometimes fail to realize them fully; or we have a wrong conception of them; or we neglect and forget them. Hence the necessity of frequent and and strong reminders, and hence the need of reformers and reforms.

When an appeal is made to social duty there is no need of concealing the fact, for if one kind of action is more generally looked upon as praiseworthy than another it is the one in which no shadow of self-interest is discernible. The nature of the appeal will differ somewhat according to circumstances and object. It may be that we have unconsciously lapsed from a strict observance of a plain duty and simply need a timely reminder. It may be that we are insensible to the exigencies or the merits of the case and need to be enlightened and aroused. It may be that through a misunderstanding of our duty we are wasting good intentions in the wrong direction and need to be set right. It may be that new conditions bring with them new obligations which we need to have presented to us clearly and cogently.

The most of us will not rest content with the performance of our duties toward ourselves and toward our fellowmen. We feel that if there is such a thing as duty at all it extends further than this. The satisfying of our selfish and social instincts leaves one instinct yet unsatisfied, the religious. We recognize on the one hand the limitation of our powers and the finiteness of our intellect, and on the other hand the inscrutable mystery of things. We know the hopelessness of knowing everything; know that the farther we extend our research the more thickly do the mysteries crowd upon us and the deeper do they grow, that each discovery instead of narrowing the realm of the unknown is but a further revelation of its vastness; and we bow before an Intelligence that so infinitely transcends our own. We realize that we are but insignificant parts of the great Whole, and this brings with it a realization of a duty not only to ourselves and others like us, but also to the bird in the tree, the flower in the field, the shell on the shore, and to the Power that works in and through them all.

This duty takes many forms, — non-interference, kindness, service, submission, love, reverence, praise. Why do we pity the caged bird, and step aside to let the flower grow unharmed, and treasure and study the curious shell? Why do we stand in silent awe or burst into spontaneous tributes of admiration before the terrors and glories of the natural world? It is the gratification of a religious instinct, the performance of a religious duty.

An appeal to this duty is the loftiest appeal that can be made to man, since it is farthest removed from any