A careless shoestring in whose tie
I see a wild civility,

are better in verse than in prose. Dress may and ought to express the character and idiosyncrasy of the wearer, but never at the expense of fitness and neatness. The impress of the mind upon dress is often seen in the case of ladies who hunt and race. The necessity of taking quick decisions clears their ideas, and they always know exactly what they want. Their appearance is the acme of neatness, but shows neither variety nor imagination. With artists it is the contrary a certain negligence of attire and eccentricity in shape and color indicate a turn of thought speculative and ideal.

Anything too much like a costume, be it ever so pretty, will look out of place in the streets or other public resorts; but it is quite legitimate to go for inspiration to the apse of Michel Angelo's Bride" for a dressing-gown to be worn only in your own sanctuin.

Dressing for effect in bad or inferior stuffs ever denotes an unreal and unrefined mind; simplicity of outline is the basis of grace; richness ought to depend upon the fabric itself, not upon the mass of trimming.

Cottons and muslins must be simple and dainty, easily washed and cleaned; their charm depends entirely upon the sensation of crispness and freshness they give to the beholder.

Bows and buttons ought to be put where they are wanted or where they might appear to be of use, and not unmeaningly scattered about in promiscuous places. The wonderful dignity and finish we admire in mediæval dress de

pends mainly upon all the ornamentation being based upon necessity.

The German slashed sleeve in its hundred varieties is produced by the thrifty housewife slipping on and off the tight sleeve that impeded her in her work; and in all the older pictures and engravings the sleeves are invariably secured to the bodice by hooks, ribbons, or buttons. Albrecht Dürer and Cesare Vecelli are inexhaustible mines from which to adapt ideas, care being, however, taken not to indulge too freely in the flowing veils, ribbons, and draperies to which the former especially is partial. In real life long limp folds are uncomfortable and apt to look untidy.

We might derive many useful hints, too, from such galleries as that at Versailles, especially seen by the light of the numerous memoirs of that day. Dress after the sixteenth century begins to adapt itself to the exigencies of everyday life; it becomes less unwieldy from the moment that women walk in the streets and frequent public places. The great ladies of the court of Louis the Fourteenth, instead of having their trains attached to their dresses, used to put them on and off half a dozen times a day, if we are to believe La Grande Mademoiselle and St. Simon, because it was not etiquette to appear before Le Grand Monarque without them, and yet they could not move with them. We also gather from these memoirs that in those days and up to the French Revolution, which levelled good and bad, the dress of the old and young was quite distinct, thus insuring dignity and variety. In our days we see a frisky mother in tulle and daisies skipping alongside of a stately daughter in sombre cut-velvet folds.

The constantly revived fashion of trimming dresses in front arose in the first instance from wearing aprons to protect the skirt; these aprons soon becaine purely ornamental, and covered with masses of lace and embroidery till they in their turn were discarded for the decoration of the dress itself. Thus one fashion is the natural outcome of another when they are directed by ladies, for necessity generally gives the first impulse, and a certain harmony will follow. If left entirely in the hands of dressmakers, it is not unnat

ural that in their own interest they should strive to invent something quite opposed to what went before. This is the history of many fashions as senseless as they are ephmereal.

Variety is the salt of life; the prettiest colors and most graceful shapes, if seen continually and in masses, will weary the eye. The reason why fashions change so rapidly now is because they at once spread through every stratum of society, and become deteriorated and common. But even this ought not to goad us on in a wild race of senseless and sometimes ugly experiments.

Be plain in dress and sober in thy diet, is advice on the side of which it is safe to err, and the excessive craving for something new is often bred by idleness. When the mind is occupied, outside objects assume their true value. What was beautiful yesterday is beautiful today, and remains so until some new necessity springs up to replace it. We ought ever to remember that repose of mind and body is a paramount charm repose of mind is fascinating, repose of body is dignified; neither can exist without complete comfort and fitness in dress. To see a lady wildly struggling in rain and wind in a tight skirt with long train appears ridiculous to us; to her it is pain. A well-dressed woman will always look happy in her clothes. It is everybody's duty to appear as nicelooking as possible

Still to be neat, still to be drest As you were going to the feast. We rarely catch a sight of ourselves

;

in the looking-glass, but others are constantly obliged to see us. We bestow care and thought upon our houses and gardens, then why not upon ourselves? A little thought, a little knowledge, and a little common-sense will help us far more than wasting time, money, and artifice. The smallest thing of beauty is a joy forever; beauty elevates our thoughts and lightens our troubles, and when brought up to it our children's minds take the impress, and are guided by a fitting sense of form and color, and learn easily to distinguish and appreciate what is good in art.

The organs of music can be formed and improved by constant cultivation through generations; why should it be impossible to obtain the same result as regards the sense of sight? At all events understanding and appreciation can always be secured.

Much has been done within these last twenty years to render all our daily surroundings beautiful and attractive; but with it is still an effort instead of

many

being, what it ought to be, an instinct.

Dress is too frivolous and futile a subject to warrant our going very deeply into all its bearings; but we ought to remember how constantly the world judges by appearances, and that an harmonious and pleasing exterior inclines us to presume a refined and well-balanced mind. Let us, therefore, not forget Polonius's warning to his son :

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy-rich not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

flashes upon the mental processes-Mr. Vigor is turned out to grass! That is what it is. After a good rest, plenty to eat, plenty of fresh air, and little to do on shipboard, with plenty of sleep, Mr. Vigor will come back with a new store of body-capital; and go to business again with the same sense of energy as of yore. A new man, indeed!

Now what has Mr. Vigor been doing to get into this condition of physiologi-. cal bankruptcy, or an approach thereto? He has been working until he has reached the point of overwork. He has drawn upon his physiological capital until he can no longer accomplish his daily tale of work; and feels exhausted by the small amount he actually accomplishes. He is approaching a breakdown, in other words, becoming a body-bankrupt. If any sudden demand were to come he has no funds with which to meet it. So his medical man has ordered him away from business altogether for a protracted period. Probably small rests, short intervals of absence from business have been already tried, with good effect; but still are inadequate to complete restoration of the health; just as a few days' rest in the stable are tried for the overworked horse, till the device is no longer sufficient. A prolonged rest then becomes essential and imperative.

Some time ago, when talking with Mr. Duguid at the Brown Institution for Animals, at Vauxhall, he informed me that horses which had already had a number of years of work in London showed much less resistive power to disease than was manifested by other horses recently come from the country. The latter could fight successfully with the disease while the overworked town-horse soon succumbed. Mr. Duguid's observation fell like seed on ground prepared to receive it, for just then I had been studying the subjects of "Physiological Bankruptcy," "Overwork, for two chapters thereupon in a work, "The Maintenance of Health;" and these identical effects upon the horse that were exhibited by man, were most suggestive and interesting to me.

and

Since then I have watched with heightened interest, yet with saddened feelings, how frequently this sudden col

lapse occurs in overworked men before the impact of acute disease. Many men in the prime of life, in the midst of the greatest intellectual activity, are dead before their friends realize that they are seriously ill. It is rumored that Mr. So-and-so is ill; next, that there has been a consultation of several medical men, and that little hope is held out for recovery; then, before the sense of shock is almost realized, that the fatal event has occurred. This is very terrible, and creates intense interest on the part of his friends, who are stunned by the intelligence, and cannot comprehend how the disaster has happened. turns out that early in the case asthenic symptoms showed themselves, and that the poor gentleman sank swiftly despite everything that could be done for him. Nor is such a history unknown among the medical profession. Several rude shocks of this kind have occurred within recent years. Two especially suggest themselves in conspicuous men, hospital physicians, and writers of eminence. First they were ill, but nothing sinister was apprehended. Then an asthenic type of disease was recognized of an erysipelatous character; a sense of apprehension was suddenly experienced, not without good and valid reason; and soon it was whispered that they were sinking, and the fears were quickly realized. Both had been systematically overworking themselves, trusting no sudden demand would come. It did come in each case in the form of bloodpoisoning; and then the real condition was revealed, and the sufferers quickly sank. These medical men both succumbed to the onslaught of an acute condition against which they would, in all probability, have successfully struggled, had not both been physiologically bankrupt. Overwork, systematic and persistent, for good and praiseworthy objects, had sapped the powers in each

'Nature knows nothing of extenuating circumstances. Physiological bankruptcy is a physical fact which is in no way a matter of ethics. Whether a man is exhausted by labor of the most laudable character, or by a persistent course of drunkenness and debauchery, matters nothing as regards the conditions of physiological bankruptcy with its train

of dangers. Indeed such conditions are commonly associated with most praiseworthy efforts. But nature is pitiless! It is a sad and sorrowful reflection that motives can exercise no influence, put in no plea of extenuating circumstances, when disease has laid its fell hand upon the organism; and the scythe of death is including in its merci less sweep the hard-working husband, the self-denying widow's son, the loving father struggling hard to win a competency, and provide for his growing offspring.

Work then is healthful; but overwork is destructive. It now remains to describe the effects of overwork: first, physical overwork; then mental overwork.

Physical overwork is common, and met in a variety of forms. It may be the result of toil, in order to make a living, to provide for wife and children; or it may be the result of self-imposed exertion, as in amateur rowers or runners and athletics of all sorts. It matters not what the motive for exertion; if sufficiently severe and long sustained it will work its effects in time. Stealthily, unperceived, nay, unsuspected, the ruin is being accomplished. But not always in the same way, nor by identical means. In one case there is a general impairment of the health, a diminution of the physiological capital, only revealed by the collapse of the powers before the impact of some acute disease, as congestion of the lungs, pneumonia; or it may be bronchitis, especially in elderly persons. Disease of the respiratory organs always tests the powers very severely. Bronchitis is comparatively free from danger, except at the extremes of life (when it is always serious), or in the invalid, or in persons with impaired powers. The embarrassed respiration requires extensive and sustained efforts to maintain life, and any cessation of the breathing for a few minutes is followed by death. It is a hard, cruel way of torturing a healthy man to artificially embarrass his breathing, as the pitiless Spanish Inquisitor well knew; but when the constitution is broken or undermined then the effort soon exhausts the powers. I have been told by eminent medical men from the United States that pneumonia (inflammation of the lungs) is

especially dreaded among their overworked population living continuously at high pressure. It is also a common cause of death amid the worn-out inmates of infirmaries and sick-asylums. The decayed organisms which drift into these refuges are the social failures, the waste products of our social workshop; and their decadence is quickly manifested when disease of the respiratory organs fastens upon them. Decay has been instituted before death. They are literally worn out, while still alive!

Overwork may manifest itself in a totally different manner. It is a notorious fact that severe effort is liable to produce inflammation of the valves of the heart. Strain, as a cause of much disease of the circulatory apparatus, is now universally recognized. Some years ago a discussion took place in the public press as to the amount of heart disease among the crews of the university eights, past and present. The outcome of this discussion was such as rather to encourage rowing; for the crews seemed as a body to be very hale individuals. But then it must be remembered that these crews consist of picked men, very carefully selected; men who are as sound as any men in the world. It is when strain is thrown upon men chosen promiscuously as workmen are that the results are so different. Workmen choose an occupation because of some attraction for them, or because they must work at something, to make a livelihood, without regard to special fitness. See the bargeman laboring with his sweeps to propel or guide his lumbering, awkward craft on the Thames. For a time, during the ebb or flow of the tide, as the case may be, his efforts are veritable strains; from his feet which are fixed, to his shoulders from which the arms pull on the oars. For six hours at a spell this general strain is maintained. A certain form of valvular disease of the heart, well recognized as constantly linked with strain, is notoriously common with these men. Go into a foundry and see the men wielding the "big" hammer; "strikers" as they are called in the trade. During the time the red-hot iron is upon the anvil, the efforts of these men are most violent. Examine them at the end of a heat," as it is technically termed, and they are