His heart was beginning to fail him, when suddenly the welcome tingling of bells met his ears, and a team, conducted by a tall man clad in a blouse, appeared in sight, coming up from a by-road towards the spot where he stood. Arnold awaited his approach, and asked whether it were far to Sersberg.

'Sersberg!' repeated the teamster; 'I hope you do not reckon upon sleeping there to-night?' 'Pardon me, but I do though,' replied the young

man.

'At the Château of Sersberg?' continued the peasant then you must know of a railway leading to it. There are six good leagues to be traversed before you could reach the gate, and, considering the weather and the roads, they might be reckoned as twelve.'

The young man made an exclamation of surprise. He had started early in the day from the château, and had no idea he had rambled so far from it. But the peasant, on hearing of the course he had pursued, explained to him that for some hours he had been going in the wrong direction; and that, while he thought himself on the road to Sersberg, he had, in reality, been turning his back upon it. It was now too late to repair his error-the nearest village was about a league distant, and Arnold did not know the way thither; so that he found himself compelled to accept the shelter which was cordially offered by his new companion, whose farm happily lay near at hand. He accordingly joined the countryman, and attempted to enter into conversation with him; but Moser was no talker, and appeared a perfect stranger to all those ideas which habitually filled the young man's mind.

On emerging from the forest, Arnold called his attention to the magnificent horizon which lay before them, and which the last rays of the setting sun now tinged with a hue of the deepest purple. The farmer only shrugged his shoulders, and murmured in reply-It will be a bad day to-morrow,' at the same time drawing more closely around him the limousine which served him for a cloak.

'I should think one can see the whole valley from this point of the road,' said Arnold, who sought to pierce through the darkness in which the base of the hill was already enveloped.

'Yes, yes,' replied Moser, shaking his head, this rascally hill is high enough for that. Now there is an invention which I don't see much use for.'

'What invention ?'

'Why, the mountains to be sure.'

'You would like better to have nothing but plains?' 'What a question!' exclaimed the farmer, laughing aloud. You might as well ask me whether I would rather not break my horses' backs.'

Ah, that is true,' replied Arnold in a tone of contemptuous irony: I forgot the horses! God ought certainly to have thought of them above all when he created the world.'

'I do not know,' Moser tranquilly replied, whether God should have thought of them or not; but certainly the engineers ought not to forget them when they construct a road. The horse, sir, is the labourer's best friend, without intending, however, any insult to the oxen, which have also their value.'

Arnold looked at the peasant in amazement.

Then do you really see nothing in all which surrounds you,' asked he seriously, but the mere question of utility? The forest, the mountain, the clouds-do they never speak to your heart? Have you never stood still to contemplate the setting sun, or the forest lighted up by the stars, as it is at this moment?'

He held out a small flask to Arnold, who rejected it disdainfully.

The coarseness of the peasant renewed his regrets for the polished society he had left behind. He could hardly believe that these unhappy beings, whose lives were devoted to labour, and whose minds never seemed to rise above what was most material in all that surrounded them, could be men endued with the same nature as himself. Their animal existence was the same, but what an abyss between their spirits! Were there any inclinations common to each-any point of resemblance which might attest their original fraternity? Arnold felt each moment more inclined to doubt it. The longer he reflected, the more he became convinced that this immaterial flower of all things, to which we have given the name of poetry, was the privileged possession of a few choice spirits, while the rest of mankind vegetated in the dull limbo of a prosaic existence. Such thoughts as these communicated a sort of contemptuous nonchalance to his demeanour towards his guide, with whom he no longer attempted any conversation. Moser showed neither surprise nor annoyance at his conduct, and began to whistle a familiar air, interrupting it now and then to utter a word of encouragement to his horses.

Ere long they reached the farm, where the tingling of the little bells had announced their approach. A young boy and a middle-aged woman appeared at the same moment upon the threshold.

'It is your father!' exclaimed the woman, turning hastily back into the house, whence there immediately issued forth the joyous voices of children, who came running to the door, and pressed eagerly round the peasant.

"Wait a minute there, marmaille!' he exclaimed with his rough voice, whilst at the same time he drew from the cart a covered basket. Let Fritz unharness the horses.'

But the children continued to besiege the farmer, all talking at the same time. He stooped down to kiss them all, one after another; then suddenly raising himself up, Where is Johnny?' he inquired with a hurried voice, which betrayed some feeling of anxiety.

Here, papa-here I am,' answered a feeble little voice within the doorway. Mamma does not like me to come out in this rain.'

Stay, then-stay a moment,' said Moser, while he threw the reins on the backs of the unharnessed horses: 'I am coming to you, my child. Go in all of you, children, not to let him be tempted to come out.'

The three children ran joyously back to the porch, where the little Johnny stood by his mother's side. He was a pale, sickly boy; so deformed, that it was impossible to guess his age. He rested upon crutches, and his whole frame was bent and emaciated. On his father's approach, he extended his diminutive arms towards him with an expression so full of joy and love, that his wrinkled face beamed with delight. Moser lifted him up with his sinewy hands, uttering at the same time an exclamation of happiness not unmingled with emotion: Come, then, my little Puss!' said he; kiss papa, then; with both arms hug him close now. How has he been since yesterday?'

The mother shook her head. Always that cough,' she said in an under tone.

Oh, papa, it is nothing,' said the little boy. Louis had drawn me rather too fast in my wheel chair; but I am quite well again. I feel as strong as a man.'

The peasant laid him carefully down, raised the fallen crutches, which he placed under his arms, and looked at him with an air of satisfaction. 'Don't you think he grows, wife?' said he in the tone of a man who wants to be encouraged in his own opinion. Walk a little way, Johnny-walk, my boy! He walks quicker and more firmly. He will do well, wife; we must only have a little patience.'

The good woman said nothing, but her glance rested upon her infirm child with such an expression of utter

despair that it made Arnold shudder. Happily for poor Moser, he saw it not.

'Come here now, all you young brood,' he continued, opening at the same time the basket which he had taken from the cart. There is something for everybody. Fall into rank, and hold out all hands.'

The good father had just produced three small white rolls, ornamented with gilding. Three exclamations of joy were uttered, and six little hands simultaneously started forward to receive them; but in a moment all drew back as if by instinct: And Johnny?' inquired with one accord all the little voices.

What matter about Johnny?' gaily replied Moser. Who knows but I have brought nothing for him this evening? He shall have his share another time.'

But the child smiled, and tried to stretch over and peep into the basket. The farmer stepped back, lifted the cover, and raising his hand with an air of mock solemnity, displayed before the eyes of all a gingerbread cake, decorated with white and pink sugar-plums. There was a general exclamation of delight. Johnny himself could not suppress a feeble cry of admiration; a slight tinge of colour passed across his pale cheeks, and he stretched out his hand with an expression of joyous avidity.

‘Ah, that takes your fancy, my little Puss,'exclaimed the father, whose countenance brightened at the sight of his child's pleasure. Take it, my old man; take it, it is only sugar and honey.'

He placed the cake in the hands of the little cripple, watched him as he slowly moved away, and then turning towards Arnold, said with some emotion, 'He is my ||first-born, sir: disease has somewhat deformed him; but he is as sharp as a needle, and it will be our own fault if he does not turn out a gentleman.' While speaking, he crossed the outer room, and led the way into a sort of parlour, whose whitewashed walls were decorated with a few rude engravings. On entering, Arnold perceived Johnny seated on the ground, surrounded by his brothers, amongst whom he was sharing the cake given him by his father. But each was exclaiming against the size of his share, and wanting it to be smaller; it needed all the eloquence of the little hunchback to make them accept the shares he had allotted to them. The young huntsman looked at the scene for some moments with the deepest interest, and when the children had again left the room, he expressed his admiration of it to the farmer's wife. Certainly, she replied | with a smile, while at the same time a sigh escaped her, there are times when I think that the infirmities of our poor John are of use to our other children: amongst each other, they are slow in yielding, but not one of them can ever refuse him anything-it is a continual exercise of kindness and devotion.'

And a fine kind of virtue it is!' interrupted Moser. 'Who could refuse anything to an innocent who has so much to suffer? It is a foolish thing for a man to say, but do you know, sir, that child always makes me feel disposed to cry. Often when I am in the fields, I begin all of a sudden to think of him. I say to myself, "Perhaps Johnny is ill, perhaps he is dead!" and then, no matter what hurry there may be for the work to be got through, I must find some pretext or other for coming home and seeing how things go on. You see he is so feeble, so suffering! If he were not loved more than others, he would be too unhappy.'

Yes, yes,' gently replied his wife, the poor child is to us at once a cross and a blessing. My children, sir, are all dear to me; but when I hear upon the floor the sound of Johnny's crutches, I always feel as it were a thrill of joy pass through me: it is a notice to me that our gracious God has not yet withdrawn the beloved child from us. It often seems to me that Johnny brings happiness to the house, like the swallow's nest built beneath the roof. If I had not to watch over him, I should feel as if I had nothing left to do.'

Arnold listened to these naïve expressions of tenderness with mingled interest and surprise. The good

woman called a servant to assist her in laying the cloth; and the young man, at the invitation of Moser, drew near the brushwood fire which was burning on the hearth. As he leaned against the mantelpiece, his eye rested on a small black frame wherein was enclosed a dried leaf; Moser perceived its glance.

'Ah, you are looking at my relic, I perceive,' said he laughing. It is a leaf from the weeping willow which grows away yonder upon the tomb of the hero! It was given to me by a Strasburg merchant, who had also served in the old regiment. I would not give the thing for a hundred crowns.'

'You attach, then, some particular idea to it?' said the young man inquiringly.

Idea? No,' replied the peasant; but I too have served a campaign in the 14th Hussars-a valiant regiment, sir-which was pretty well cut up at Montruivail. There were only eight men left in our squadron; and so, to be sure, when the Little Corporal passed in front of the line, he saluted us—yes, sir-he took off his hat and saluted us! Tonnerre! it was worth while being killed for him! Ah! he was the father of the soldier.'

Here the peasant began to fill his pipe, with his eyes fixed upon the frame of black wood and the dried leaf. There was evidently to him in this remembrancer of a wonderful destiny a whole romance of youth and of emotion. He recalled the last struggles of the Empire, in which he had borne a part; the reviews held by the emperor when his presence was still considered a pledge of victory; the brief successes of the French campaign, which were so soon followed by the disaster of Waterloo; the departure of the fallen hero; and his long agony on the rock of St Helena. All these images passed successively before the farmer's mind, and his brow became knitted-he pressed his thumb more energetically upon his pipe, and whistled in a low tone one of the marches of his old regiment.

Arnold respected the old soldier's meditations, and waited till he should himself once more break the silence. The arrival of supper awoke him from his reverie-he drew a chair to the table for his guest, and took his own place opposite.

'Come,' said he abruptly, let us set to work with the soup. I have taken nothing since morning but a crust of bread and two or three mouthfuls of cherry brandy. I could almost swallow a cow whole this evening;' and as if to prove his assertion, he began rapidly to despatch the large basin of soup which stood before him. For a few minutes, nothing was heard but the noise of spoons, soon followed by that of knives employed in cutting up the quarter of smoked bacon, which the goodwife placed before them.

The long walk and keen air had given even Arnold an appetite which made him forget all his Parisian delicacies; the bacon seemed the best-flavoured he had ever tasted; and the cheap vin du pays, which constituted the sole beverage at the farmer's table, appeared to him capital.

The supper went merrily on till the farmer inquired, as if struck by a sudden thought, Where is Farraut? I have not seen him since my return.'

His wife and children looked at each other, and made no reply.

'Well, then, what is the matter?' said Moser, who perceived their embarrassment. Where is the dog? What has happened? Do answer me, Dorothy!'

'Do not be vexed, dear papa,' interrupted Johnny; 'we did not dare to tell you; but Farraut is gone off, and has not come back again.'

'Gone off! but you should have told me,' said the peasant, striking the table with his fist. And what road did he take?'

'The road to Garennes.' 'When was it?'

'After breakfast. We saw him go up the little path.' 'Something must have happened to him,' said Moser, rising from his seat.. The poor animal is almost blind,.

and there are sand-pits all along the road. Go, get me my goatskin cloak and my lantern; I must find poor Farraut either dead or alive.'

Dorothy went out without making any observation on the lateness of the hour, or the badness of the weather, and soon returned with the cloak and lantern. 'You value this dog much?' inquired Arnold, surprised at their anxiety.

Not for my own sake,' replied Moser, as he lighted his pipe; but he did a good service to Dorothy's father. One day as he was returning from La Boutraye with the price of his bullocks, four men set on him, and would have killed him to get his money, but Farraut drove them off; and so, when the good man died two years ago, he called me to his bedside, and asked me to care for the dog as for one of his children. Those were his very words. I promised it; and it would be a shame not to keep one's word with the dead. Ho, Fritz! give me my stick: I would not, for the world, that anything should have happened to Farraut. The creature has been in the family for twenty years. He knows every one of us by our voices, and he recalls the good grandfather to mind. Give the lantern here quickly, Dorothy. Good-night, sir, and rest well till to-morrow.' Moser wrapped himself in his goatskin and went out. The sound of his iron-tipped staff made itself heard for a few moments, and was then lost amidst the noise of the storm and rain, which was raging without.

After a long silence, the hostess proposed to show the young man the room she had prepared for him; but Arnold begged to be allowed to await the return of his host. He began to feel interested in this man, whom he had at first thought rude and vulgar-minded, and in this humble family, whose life had seemed to him so devoid of interest.

The night passed on; but no sign of Moser. The children dropped asleep one after another, and John himself, who made the longest resistance, at length yielded to the weariness which stole over him.

Dorothy, uneasy and restless, went constantly to the door to see if she could hear the sound of footsteps. Arnold tried to reassure her; but this only excited her the more. She accused Moser of never considering his own health or safety; of being always ready to sacrifice himself for others; of never being satisfied to see either man or beast suffer without doing everything to relieve them; and in proportion as she multiplied her complaints, which sounded wonderfully like praises, her anxiety became greater, and she was filled with forebodings of ill. The night before, the dog had never ceased howling, an owl had perched on the roof, and besides, it was Wednesday, always an unfortunate day to them. At last she became so miserable that the young huntsman proposed to go in search of her husband; and she was about to awaken Fritz to accompany him as a guide, when the sound of footsteps was heard outside.

It is he !-it is Moser!' exclaimed the good woman. 'Thank God! he is safe.'

Hollo! open quick, wife,' cried the farmer from without.

She ran to draw back the bolt, and Moser appeared with the old blind dog in his arms.

good grandfather looks down upon us, he will be pleased now.'

This reflection, made almost in a tone of indifference, deeply touched Arnold, who warmly grasped the peasant's hand, saying with emotion, You have acted like a true-hearted man, my friend.' In what respect?' answered Moser. Is it because I have saved a dog from drowning? Thank God! I have saved many a dog, and many a man too, since I was born; but not often in worse weather than to-night. Say, my good Dorothy, can you give me a glass of cogniac to warm me?'

She brought the bottle to her husband, who drank to the health of his guest, and then they all retired to rest.

The next morning was again fine; the sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, and the birds sang sweetly on the boughs, still glittering with rain-drops. When Arnold descended from the loft where he had passed the night, he found Farraut at the door basking in the warm rays of the rising sun, while the little cripple was seated by his side, making a collar for him of the bright red berries of the wild rose. Farther on, in the outer room, the farmer sat chatting with a beggar, who came for his weekly alms. Dorothy was engaged in filling the old man's sack.

Come, old Henri, you must have a drink before you go,' said the peasant, whilst he filled a glass for the aged beggar. To enable you to get through your rounds, you must have something to give you courage.'

'One always finds some here,' said the beggar with a smile. There are not many houses in the parish which give more liberally; and certainly there are none where what is given is given so cheerfully.'

Hush, hush, Father Henriot,' interrupted Moser; 'why talk about such things? Take your glass, and leave it to the good God to judge the actions of other men. You know you and I have served together-we are comrades.'

The old man contented himself with shaking his head, and striking his glass with the farmer's, without further remark; but one could see that he felt more deeply the kindliness with which the alms were bestowed than the gift of the alms themselves.

When he had again lifted his sack upon his shoulder, and said farewell, Moser looked after him till he had turned the corner, and then said with a sigh, One more homeless poor old man cast upon the world!' and added, turning to his guest, Perhaps you will hardly believe me, sir, but when I see a feeble aged man like that obliged to beg his bread from door to door, my heart sinks within me. I should like to be able to shelter them all under my roof, and welcome them to my table. One may argue about it as one likes, but nothing prevents such a sight from breaking the heart but the recollection that up there, above us, there is a land where those who have not received even a scanty portion here, will have double ration and double pay.'

Ah, keep fast hold of that hope,' said Arnold; 'it alone can sustain and console us. I shall never forget the hours I have passed with you, my friend: I hope they may not be the last.'

And did you go down there to get him?' inquired the terrified Dorothy.

Would you have had me leave him at the bottom, to find him drowned there to-morrow?' replied the old soldier. I slipped along the high bank, and carried him away in my arms like a child, only I was obliged to leave the lantern behind.'

'But, good heavens, you risked your life!' exclaimed Dorothy shuddering.

He shrugged his shoulders, and said good-humouredly, Ah, bah! when one risks nothing, one gets nothing. I have found Farraut, that is the chief thing. If the

you can put up with our smoked bacon, come as often as you like, and we shall always have a hearty welcome for you.' As he thus spoke, the peasant cordially shook the hand which the young man offered him, pointed out the path he should follow, and stood on the threshold till he had turned the corner of the road and vanished from his sight.

Arnold walked on thoughtfully for some distance, with his eyes fixed upon the ground; but when he had reached the summit of the hill, he turned to cast one more look upon the farm; and as he stood watching the light smoke which curled from its chimney, a tear of grateful emotion dimmed his eye. May God protect that roof!' he earnestly exclaimed; for there,

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where my pride saw only beings incapable of understanding the more refined sentiments of our nature, I have found those who are an example to myself. I judged hastily from the exterior, and thought all the poetry of life was wanting, because, instead of showing itself outwardly, it lay hidden within the deeper recesses of the heart. Superficial observer that I was! I spurned with my foot what seemed to me a hard ungainly flint, little thinking of the diamond hidden within.'

INFLUENCE OF THE WEATHER ON THE

MIND AND BODY.

GENERAL experience convinces most people that the body and the mind are both liable to be affected by the 'skiey influences.' Some, indeed, like Dr Johnson, may affect to treat this with ridicule, and the strong and robust may scarcely be sensible of any minute changes which the state of the weather may effect on their systems, but the more sensitive and susceptible again are fully alive to the facts; so much so, indeed, as to become in some measure living barometers. Who has not, in some part of his life at least, experienced the depressing effect of a dull rainy day on his spirits ?-or who, on the contrary, has not felt the exhilaration of dry air and a bright glowing sunshine? At times, even in good health, a state of mind comes across us in which everything appears dark and gloomy; in which little ills are magnified into terrible evils; and in which casual annoyances seem as if they were to be perpetual, and never to be got over. All this may endure for a day, and we cannot account for it; but tomorrow's sun rises bright and cheerful; a wonderful change has come over our spirits; and hope and joy have suddenly taken the place of all our former sorrows. How much is man thus a creature of circumstances, and how apt is his mind thus to be unnecessarily agitated! It is right, however, that he should know this; and a few explanations of the effects of the weather on the animal system may not thus be without

their use.

There are several circumstances which naturally affect the atmosphere as respects its influence on organised beings-such as its temperature, its moist or dry condition, its purity as respects admixture of other gases, and its electric condition. Hot air is always depressing and relaxing to the whole system; and as hot and highly rarefied air contains in the same bulk a smaller proportion of oxygen or vital air than cold and denser air, the lungs are thus defectively supplied with one of their chief stimulants of life. Cold air, on the contrary, is bracing and highly stimulating. Every one must have experienced the effects of these two extremes: the first in the languor, and lassitude, and oppressed breathing of a sultry summer day; the other in the exhilaration caused by a dry frosty day in winter, and the increased muscular activity and the ruddy glow of health which such weather causes. When the air is suddenly rarefied, or when a change of its constitution is about to take place, a corresponding impression is felt in the animal system; this is, experienced before great storms, hurricanes, or heavy falls of rain or snow. Not only does man become sensible of this, but even the inferior animals, throughout all their grades of existence, manifest by some outward indications their feelings of the approaching change. The cattle leave their pastures often with a loud bellowing, birds wheel about in the air, and even the leech, and other small animals, become unusually agitated. Air of an elevated temperature, and when loaded with moisture, has always a depressing effect on the spirits; dry air, on the contrary, has a stimulating, and, under ordinary circumstances, an

exhilarating effect. A certain degree of moisture is absolutely necessary as a healthy condition of air; but extreme moisture or extreme dryness is prejudicial. The wind called the sirocco, which prevails at certain seasons of the year over those countries on the borders of the Mediterranean, exercises a very peculiar effect on the animal system. This wind comes from the arid deserts of Africa, and is extremely hot and dry. No sooner does it arrive on the shores of the Mediterranean, than it absorbs with avidity every particle of moisture up to its highest pitch of saturation; and while undergoing this change, its depressing and enervating effects are found to be most distressing. We experience something of the same kind in our east winds, which prevail along the eastern shores of Britain, especially in the spring months of the year. This east wind blows over the continent of Europe, as well as the northern parts of Asia, and is of low temperature, and deficient in moisture: as soon as it arrives on our island, it gradually absorbs both moisture and heat; and hence that peculiar dry, cold, shrivelling effect which it produces both on the bodies of animals and on all growing vegetables. This effect becomes more apparent when contrasted with a south or westerly wind. No sooner does the southerly wind gain the ascendancy-which wind blows over a long tract of ocean, and is consequently of elevated temperature, and supplied with a medium degree of moisture-than its mild and invigo rating influence is felt both by the animal and vegetable kingdoms.

The damp winds of South America have been well described by Sir Woodbine Parish. To the north of Buenos Ayres is a very marshy district, while to the south-west lies the great chain of the Andes, separated only by the dry plains of the Pampas; and according as the wind blows from one or other of these quarters, the effects are very remarkable. By the time the north with moisture, that everything becomes instantly damp, wind reaches the city, it has become so overcharged books and boots become mildewed, keys rust even in the pocket, and good fires are necessary to keep the apartments dry. The effects produced in the human body by this humidity are a general lassitude and relaxation, opening the pores of the skin, and inducing great liability to colds, sore throats, rheumatic affections, and all the consequences of checked perspiration. As a safewoollen clothing, even though the weather be very hot; guard against this state of things, the inhabitants wear and although Europeans would prefer wearing cool cotton clothing in such a climate, they soon learn that the native inhabitants are right in the plan which they pursue. This damp wind of La Plata seems to affect the temper and disposition of the inhabitants. The irritability and ill-humour which it excites in some of them, amount to little less than a temporary derangement of their moral faculties. It is a common thing for men among the better class to shut themselves up in their houses during its continuance, and lay aside all business till it has passed; whilst among the lower orders it is always remarked that cases of quarrelling and bloodshed are much more frequent during the north wind than at any other time. In short, everything is deranged, and everybody lays the fault to one source: 'Senor es el viento norte!'-"Tis the north wind, sir!' Even murderers are said to lay to it the blame of their foul deeds. No sooner, however, does the south wind, blowing from the dry and snowy summits of the Andes, set in, than health, and comfort, and peace are restored.

Physicians attribute, and with reason, the prevalence of many diseases to these different states of the atmosphere. Thus moist airs give rise to bilious affections, and in some localities and seasons, to agues; dry sharp airs, again, are inimical to all disorders of the chest and lungs. An irritable state of the nervous system, and even temporary insanity, may also occur from extreme conditions of the surrounding atmosphere. The effect of deleterious substances in the air as influencing health, is well known; hence one cause of the unhealthiness

of smoke-enveloped cities, where the air becomes contaminated with an excess of carbon, and with sulphureous and other gases. Crowded and ill-ventilated apartments are also thus inimical to health, from containing an excess of carbonic acid and a corresponding deficiency of oxygen or vital air. We know too little as yet of the effects of electricity, either in excess or deficiency, on the animal system, yet sufficient facts are apparent to convince us that health depends greatly on the electric condition of the air. A coming thunder-storm has a marked effect on the sensations of man and the inferior animals; and rapid charges of the electric condition, which always take place on sudden changes of temperature, or of states of moisture and dryness, have no doubt a great deal to do with many diseases, especially those called epidemical -such as influenza, and some kinds of fevers. The excellent reports on mortality now introduced into England, as given by Dr Farr, and those given with such accuracy by Dr Stark of Edinburgh, sufficiently exhibit the effects of climate on disease. The rate of mortality ranges almost with the range of the thermometer: our mild and temperate months exhibiting the least disease, while those either of extreme heat, or extreme cold, or of excess of moisture, invariably swell the lists of mortality.

Certain temperaments are more liable to be affected by the weather than others, and invalids and all delicate persons are more tremblingly alive' to its changes than the robust and healthy. While one shivers with the northern breeze, and can tell from his sensations, the moment he gets out of bed, from what quarter the wind blows, another, less alive to minute feelings, laughs at all such, and, like the renowned Tam o' Shanter, never minds the storm a whistle.' But let none exult too much in their impenetrability, or despise the warnings or salutary precautions which are required as protection against the elements; nor, on the other hand, let the afflicted despair, or yield their thoughts too much to such depressions coming from without.

It will perhaps be of some use to the sensitive to be aware of the real nature and cause of their afflictions. They have only to call to mind that such are in many cases of a purely physical nature; that they are the lot of all flesh-the inferior animals, and even insensate plants, not being excepted; that the effects of the weather are to be met by salutary precautions, and by a resolute and resigned mind; that, like many other evils, they soon pass away; and that in such cases especially, though sorrow may endure for a night, joy cometh in the morning.'

The permanent influence of particular climates on the national temperature and disposition is also a curious subject of inquiry. There seem to be grounds for supposing that climate has some effect in this way; hence the superior excitability of the inhabitants of warm climates as compared to those of cold:

The cold in clime are cold in blood:
Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth
Her human clay is kindled.'

Even within the compass of Europe, marked differences of national character are to be observed, corresponding in a certain degree to difference of climate, though no doubt difference of race and natural temperament are also to be taken into account. Thus the inhabitants of the south are more irritable and more sensitive than the cold and phlegmatic natives of the north; the liveliness of the Frenchman differs from the sedateness of the German; and the proverbial dulness of the Dutch differs as much from the energy and vivacity of the Italian.

The effects of change of climate in the cure and prevention of disease are well known to medical men; and such changes, when judiciously made, are often productive of the best effects. Thus a mild, soft, and rather moist air, is found favourable to all complaints of the chest, while a dry bracing air acts like magic on the

nervous and debilitated. Hence, too, the beneficial effects of travel, when change of air is conjoined with regular exercise of the body, and the amusement and occupation of the mind.

THE TRAPPERS OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. A WORK called 'Adventures in Mexico and the Rocky Mountains,' forms two parts-but very unequal parts— of the Home and Colonial Library. One describes a journey through Mexico, by a route that has hitherto been little if at all traversed by Europeans; yet, owing to the sameness in the character of the people, and position of the country, it is but little different from the narratives of former travellers. Our author, however, shows that the obvious arrest of social progress in Mexico is in a great degree owing to physical causes; the fertile table-lands of the central region being cut off from easy traffic with the coast, and the entire population of 8,000,000 scattered over an area of 1,312,850 square miles, being distributed in isolated departments, distinct in interests, and insecure in intercommunication. The people, he tells us, rank decidedly low in the scale of humanity. They are treacherous, cunning, indolent, and cowardly by nature, yet have that brutish indifference to death which is altogether distinct even from mere animal courage. He never observed a single commendable trait in the character of the Mexicanthat is, of the male animal; for the women, singular as it may seem under the circumstances, are, for kindness of heart, and many sterling qualities, an ornament to their sex and to any nation.

The second, and by far the more valuable part, contains the passage of the Rocky Mountains, and the route thence to New York. There is much in this portion of the work which will be new to British readers, and probably useful in correcting the pleasant delusions of such writers as Cooper. Take the following scenic view to begin with:-The view from this point was wild and dismal in the extreme. Looking back, the whole country was covered with a thick carpet of snow, but eastward it was seen in patches only here and there. Before me lay the main chain of the Rocky Mountains, Pike's Peak lifting its snowy head far above the rest; and to the south-east the Spanish Peaks (Cumbres Espanolas) towered like twin giants over the plains. Beneath the mountain on which I stood was a narrow valley, through which ran a streamlet bordered with dwarf oak and pine, and looking like a thread of silver as it wound through the plain. Rugged peaks and ridges, snowclad, and covered with pine, and deep gorges filled with broken rocks, everywhere met the eye. To the eastward the mountains gradually smoothed away into detached spurs and broken ground, until they met the vast prairies, which stretched far as the eye could reach, and hundreds of miles beyond-a sea of seeming barrenness, vast and dismal. A hurricane of wind was blowing at the time, and clouds of dust swept along the sandy prairies, like the smoke of a million bonfires. On the mountain top it roared and raved through the pines, filling the air with snow and broken branches, and piling it in huge drifts against the trees. The perfect solitude of this vast wilderness was almost appalling. From my position on the summit of the dividing ridge I had a bird's-eye view, as it were, over the rugged and chaotic masses of the stupendous chain of the Rocky Mountains, and the vast deserts which stretched away from their eastern bases; while, on all sides of me, broken ridges, and chasms, and ravines, with masses of piled-up rocks and uprooted trees, with clouds of drifting snow flying through the air, and the hurricane's roar battling through the forest at my feet, added to the wildness of the scene, which was unrelieved by the slightest vestige of animal or human life. Not a sound either of bird or beast was heard; indeed the hoarse

*By George F. Ruxton, Esq. Murray.