the most precious, the most irreparable of all treasures-time; that they dare to stand idle amid workers, and that without a thought for the future they persist in enrolling themselves in the ranks of the sluggards-the drones of this our social hive;-for observe how thick-headed must be their stupidity, knowing, as they do, that a man is esteemed and loved but by reason of the share of usefulness which he brings to the common stock, that in this social order it behoves us to know how to be useful to others, that others may, at need, be useful to ourselves; that we live, moreover, in times when nothing is stable, nothing assured, nothing certain; when opulence may, in a day, an hour, be converted into poverty, and when even talent and merit have scarcely the right of counting upon the future.

But, my good fellow," will exclaim certain individuals of the order, endowed with a rare portion of humility, "I desire nothing better than to be useful; but I am not good for anything." This is a serious error; every man is good for something. If you have nothing that you consider better to do, visit the poor of your parish, tend the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the naked; if not sufficiently rich to give much yourself, collect alms from the rich for those whom you consider most deserving of charity; believe me, great will be your reward; and by thus acting, you will merit a crown far above any title or honorary distinction whatever. What! you have before your eyes the sad spectacle of an immense portion of the human family exposed to all sorts of miseries and privations, moral and physical, and yet you say you cannot be useful to any one! Let us tell you, O useless people, that so long as there shall remain on the face of the earth one single human being bending under the sad yokes of pauperism and ignorance, it will never be permitted for any one to say: "I am not good for anything."

But why should we preach a moral code to persons so little fitted to comprehend it? Rather let us laugh at their want of sense than rail, though in ever such "good set terms," at their utter and irremediable worthlessness. They are besides sufficiently punished even in this lower world, for they suffer from two evils: self-contempt on the one hand, and that which they inspire on the other-the ennui which they experience and that which they communicate.

Useless people abound in the ranks of the upper classes of society, and in measure as we descend the social ladder their number sensibly diminishes; but they may be met with for all that in consider. able quantities even on the last step of this same ladder of life in the class of beggars and vagabonds. For true it is, that in the social family, as elsewhere, the old saying that extremes meet holds good; beggars and vagabonds are in many res pects much nearer akin to many rich men than the latter would care to admit. Very many useless people have become such from having at the outset of life turned into a wrong path or taken up a false position. These latter are more to be pitied than blamed; they are victims of the bad system of education, and of the vicious organization of labour, which still weigh like a leaden pall over society. This man, for instance, fit only to be a gamekeeper, becomes a general; that other, though born a warrior, is forced to become a statesman; a parish beadle, or at least the makings of a very respectable functionary of this species, sits in parliament, and the administration opens its arms to a flock of nullities who, unable to shine in the house," or, for the matter of that, anywhere else, hole out for themselves-mole-like-a goody number of sinecures, in which they burrow and fatten greatly to their own advantage, but very little we fear to that of the public in general.

We can find in our hearts to pity those who, with the best intentions in the world, have wandered from the beaten track; but the truly useless people, those who are such through egotism, laziness, or sheer obtuseness of intellect, fly them as you would a plague, and at their approach let every door be hermetically sealed.

Let them associate together-precious birds of no less precious plumage-to kill time; let them kill it in whatever manner it seemeth fit to them, provided they do not kill that of others: in theatres or supper-houses, with cards, dice, or billiards; with a squeaking flute or deafening cornet; in reading -'s novels, or in brandy and water and cigars; on horseback or in cab, with pistol or broadsword; in angling or butterfly hunting. Let them sing or let them weep-laugh or lament; let them be content or unhappy, sick or in health; in short, let them live or let them die; what does it signify? They are "Useless People."

WATER is an inestimable benefit to health, and as it neither stimulates the appetite to excess, nor can produce any perceptible effect on the nerves, it is admirably adapted for diet, and we ought, perhaps by right, to make it our sole beverage, as it was with the first of mankind, and still is with all the animals. Pure water dissolves the food more, and more readily, than that which is saturated, and likewise absorbs better the acrimony from the juices-that is to say, it is more nutritious, and preserves the juices in their natural purity; it penetrates more easily through the smallest vessels, and removes obstructions in them; nay, when taken in large quantity, it is a very potent antidote to poison.

From these main properties of water may be deduced all the surprising cures which have been effected by it in so many diseases, and which we shall here pass over altogether. But as to the dietetic

effect of water, we shall recommend it to our readers for their ordinary beverage on three conditions.

The first is, that they drink it as pure as possible. Impure water is of itself impregnated with foreign matters which may prove prejudicial to health. Hence it loses all the advantages which we have in the preceding remarks ascribed to water; and it would in this case be much better to drink beer, or any other such beverage, that is saturated with nutritive particles, rather than impure water. We must leave the stomachs of camels to answer for the preference given by them to muddy water; for we are assured by Shaw, that these animals stir it with up their feet, and render it turbid before they drink. The human economy requires, on the contrary, a pure beverage.

The signs of good water are, that it easily becomes hot and cold; that in summer it is cool, and in winter slightly

lukewarm; that a drop dried on a clean cloth leaves not the faintest stain behind; and that it has neither taste nor smell. It is also a sign of good water, that when it is boiled it becomes hot, and afterwards grows cold, sooner than other water. But this sign is far more fallible than the evidence of the quality of water obtained by feeling. Singular as this may sound, it is very possible to distinguish the properties of water by means of this sense. A soft or a hard water is synonymous with a water the parts of which adhere slightly or closely together. The slighter their adhesion, the less they resist the feeling, and the less sensible they are to the hand, because they may be so much the more easily separated. A gentleman of our acquaintance has for many years used two different sorts of water, which are equally pure and limpid, the one for drinking, and the other for washing his hands and face. If his servant ever happens to bring the wrong water for washing, he instantly discovers the mistake by the feeling. Our cooks and washerwomen would be able to furnish many other instances of the faculty of discriminating the properties of water by the touch, which would show that this faculty depends more on the excitement occasioned in the sensible parts than on any other cause. Hard water, for instance, makes the skin rough; soft, on the contrary, renders it smooth. The former cannot sufficiently soften flesh or vegetables; the latter regularly produces this effect. The difference of the extraneous matters which change the qualities of water, naturally makes a different impression on the feeling; and in this there is nothing that ought to astonish a person of reflection.

The water of standing pools and wells is in general extremely impure, and is accounted the worst of all. River water differs according to the variety of the soil over which it runs, and the changes of the weather; but though commonly drank, it is never pure. Of all impure river-waters, those which abound in earthy particles alone are the least injurious, because those particles are not dissolved by the water. In Auvergne, near the villages of St. Allier and Clermont, there is a stream of a petrifying quality, which constructs of itself large bridges of stone, and yet it is the only water drank by the inhabitants of those places, and that without the slightest inconvenience. If we consider that a stony concretion is deposited in all our kettles, we shall readily conceive that

a water which carries stone along with it cannot be very pernicious to health, since it is constantly drank by men and animals. This stone in our kettles is really a calcareous earth, which may be dissolved by boiling in them vinegar, or water mixed with a small quantity of nitric acid; and as the water deposits it, and does not hold it in solution, it can of course do us very little injury. We cannot, therefore, imagine how the celebrated Dr. Mead could believe that water which leaves such a deposit in culinary vessels may occasion a particular disease, merely because Pliny has said so; though he was well acquainted with the great difference between animal calculi and mere calcareous earth.

Next to well and river-water, both of which are always impure, rain-water follows in the scale of preference. It is very impure, and a real vehicle for all the pernicious matters that are continually floating in the atmosphere. Snow-water is much purer. Snow is formed of vapours which have been frozen before they could collect into drops. It is in the lower region of the air that these drops, in falling, absorb most of their impurities. The vapours floating in the upper atmosphere freeze before they reach the mire of the lower. This water is seldom to be had. That which we would most strongly recommend for drinking, is a spring-water, which descends from lofty hills, through flints and pure sand, and rolls gently along over a similar bed of rocks. Such water leaves behind all its coarse impurities in the sand; it is a purified rain and snow-water, a fluid crystal, a real cordial, and the best beverage for persons in good health.

The second condition which I attach to water-drinking is, that such persons only choose it for their constant beverage, to whom warming, strengthening, and nutritive liquids are hurtful; and that if they have not been in the habit of drinking it from their youth, they use some caution in accustoming themselves to it. Many suffer themselves to be led away by the panegyrists of water, without considering that even good changes in the system of life, when a person is not accustomed to them, and when they are abruptly or unseasonably adopted, may be productive of great mischief. Hence arise the silly complaints that water-drinking is dangerous, pernicious, nay, fatal, and the inapplicable cases quoted from experience. Those who have been in the habit of

drinking water from their youth, cannot choose a more wholesome beverage, if the water be but pure. Many nations, and many thousand more species of animals, have lived well upon it. But for an old infirm person, a living skeleton, with a weak stomach that can scarcely bear solid food, to exchange nourishing beer or strengthening wine, with the water of his brook, would be the height of absurdity. Let such adhere to their accustomed drink. Water is an excellent beverage, but beer too is good; it is also water, more nutritious than the pure element, and therefore more suitable for the persons to whom we allude.

The third condition which we require from water-drinkers is, that they take cold and hot water for their habitual beverage. We mean not to prohibit their boiling or distilling it, if they suspect it to be impure. Boyle drank nothing but such distilled water, and most delicate people of good taste in Italy still do the same. It must not, however, be drank warm, but cold. The ancients, it is true, drank hot water. Various passages in Plautus and other ancient writers, clearly prove that so early as their times it was customary to drink the water of warm springs; and there are frequent instances of common water warmed. Thus, in Dio, we find Drusus, the son of Tiberius, commanding warm water to be given to the people, who asked for water to quench their thirst at a fire which had broken out. Seneca says (De Irá, ii. 15) that a man ought not to fly into a passion with his servant if he should not bring his water for drinking so quickly as he could wish;

or if it should not be hot enough, but only lukewarm ; and Arrian says the same thing, but more circumstantially. The drinking of hot water must of course have been a common practice with the Greeks and Romans; but it should be observed, that even in their times it was held to be an effeminate indulgence of voluptuaries. Stratonicus calls the Rhodians "pampered voluptuaries, who drink warm liquors." Claudius, when he attempted to improve the morals of the people, and to check luxury at Rome, prohibited the public sale of hot water. When, on the death of the sister of the Emperor Caius, he had enjoined mourning in the city of Rome on account of this, to him, exceedingly painful loss, he put to death a man who had sold hot water, for this very reason, because he had thereby given occasion for voluptuousness, and profaned the mourning. So dangerous an indulgence was the drinking of hot water considered, that the trade of water-sellers was interdicted by the censors. Some writers publicly sa tirized this species of voluptuousness. Ammianus complains that in his time servants were not punished for great vices and misdemeanors, but that three hundred stripes were given them if they brought the warm beverage either t promptly enough or not hot enough; and from that passage of Martial's in which he says, that, at entertainments, the host was accustomed to pay particular atten tion that during the feast there should be an abundant supply of hot water, it ap pears that this beverage was an essential requisite at the tables of the luxurious.