20 HOW POOR PEOPLE TAKE COLD. mud, in slight shoes and flimsy cotton HOW POOR PEOPLE TAKE COLD. stockings, than mar the real or fancied BY MARTIN DOYLE. "WHAT Coughing yesterday in church!" said Mr. Smith to Mrs. Smith, as they sat at their breakfast-table on a Monday morning; "it was intolerable; every one seemed to have a cough." "But, my dear," said Mrs. Smith, who was one of those kind creatures who are always making excuses for everybody, "can people help coughing when they have colds? coughs prevail at this time of year; we have had a great deal of rain, and the streets and roads are in a sad state, and how can people who walk, avoid wetting their feet? and if one be delicate, nothing is more natural than taking cold?" "Pooh! pooh!" replied Mr. Smith; "I know all that. Some constitutionally delicate persons cannot avoid taking cold, even with care and precaution; and your confirmed chronic coughers are always barking, more or less; but these are so experienced, that they watch their opportunities for exploding without causing serious interruption; they cough in chorus at the pauses in the service; but when I hear young and naturally healthy persons, especially children, who have no discretion as to the favourable moments for relieving their lungs, cough incessantly, out of time and tune, to the obvious torture of the clergyman, and of the prayerful and attentive portion of the congregation, I become seriously vexed, because know that much of this coughing proceeds from vanity, carelessness, and false economy." "What has vanity to do with the matter?" inquired Mrs. Smith. "Though the grimaces which one makes in endeavouring to evacuate the peccant matter from the lungs," replied Mr. Smith, who was rather pompous on the occasion, "are not pleasing, and therefore do not, from a desire of display, directly induce us to cough, sneeze, expectorate, and make disagreeable noises, vanity tempts people to do foolish things, which bring on coughs; for instance, vanity leads many females to wear slight clothing because they think it becoming, even when the state of the weather makes them feel the necessity of a stout and warm dress; they would rather trudge through the symmetry of their feet and ankles, by wearing woollen hose and clumsy waterproof boots. Thus, wet feet and chilled bodies, with the natural consequences, oftentimes coughs, diseases of the lungs, and consumption, - arise from vanity. Half the red noses, sore lips and watery eyes, with which the fair sex are afflicted in the winter season, are caused by the absurd and insufficient kind of clothing which their vanity leads them to wear." "Well, though I cannot compliment you upon the excess of your politeness, I admit the truth of your rather sarcastic words, and that vanity is sometimes the cause of our red noses, chapped lips, and streaming eyes, and yet I flatter myself that in my case "Now, my dear, I must beg to impress upon your mind this rule-that in arguing abstract subjects, personalities are inadmissible. I did not mean to individualize (nor even to include) in my proposition, your nose, and lips, and eyes, which in my judgment are unexceptionable; "-(Mrs. Smith appears tickled by this neat compliment, and her eyes in consequence look quite brilliant), "but to generalize female features under the supposed influences, and merely for illustration." "I can understand," said Mrs. Smith, "how carelessness causes coughs. It is from inattention to the changing of their damp and wet clothes, to downright laziness and fool-hardihood, that so many persons contract colds; young people in particular will rather sit before a fire whilst moisture is slowly evaporating from their clothes, than take the trouble of changing them. But it is hard for the poor, who so frequently have no changes of raiment, to guard against taking cold, after a drenching from rain.' "but in "So it is," replied Mr. Smith; such case, they can undress, get into bed, snugly enveloped in blankets, swallow a bowl of scalded butter-milk, whey, or hot tea, and lie there while their clothes are drying before a fire." Such was the pith of a conversation that I heard, as I sat at breakfast with a country clergyman and his lady; and I shall endeavour to point out how far Mr. Smith was right in his opinion. UTILITY. UTILITY. 21 I need not make any remark respecting females of the higher classes, because they always have ample means of guarding against the changes and severities of the Is the world formed on utilitarian prinweather. But how is the case as it regards ciples? In so far as that even the most the wives and daughters of petty artisans, distant and the most hidden, the greatest and servant-maids, &c. &c., in our towns and the smallest, have their uses, we may and villages? How many of these classes answer, "Yes!" The scarcely visible stars, are seen in the streets and roads during do they not serve to inform the seaman of rainy weather, in tawdry cotton shawls his position; the moon, does she not, by and cotton gowns, trailing the ground, raising the tides, waft our shipping into (after the example of their betters,) and port? The sun shines to mature our with boots no stronger than brown paper; food, to guide our steps, to maintain our with faded and dirty bonnets, remnants of nervous system in a state of healthy exfinery, garnished with flame-coloured citement. The clouds in the night-time ribbons. Even the grocer's, or baker's check radiation, and thus tend to dimimaid-of-all-work, has her net cap, with a nish extreme cold. The mountains colgarland of artificial flowers, blackened lect and condense moisture, and distribute somewhat from frequent contact with the it in streams through the plains. The grate, the fire-irons, or the frying-pan. lightning generates ammonia in the atWith such raiment, how is it to be reason-mosphere, which, brought down by showably expected that women, who are frequently exposed to cold and damp, avoid taking cold? We still see in the primitive parts of North and South Wales, the north of England, remote from cities, and various localities throughout all Ireland, in many parts of Scotland, and all northern France, a national and appropriate style of clothing among the lower classes of people, who have sense enough to prefer health and comfort to vain fashion; namely, woollen gowns and petticoats, and woollen plaid shawls or whittles, the materials of which they card, spin, and weave themselves; woollen stockings, which they knit and linen chemises which they manufacture at home. The sensible peasant woman of Wales, in spite of modern innovations, wears a jacket and short petticoat, and a whittle over her shoulder, when she goes to church and market, while a long blue cloth cloak with a hood, and frequently a beaver hat, indicate the woman of Celtic origin, whether in Wales or in Ireland; and is not such substantial dress in a variable climate creditable to the Celt and preferable to the ever-varying fashions of showy, but unsubstantial print-cottons? And is it not much more truly economical in the end? That is a false economy which leads poor people to buy flimsy articles that will not stand wear and tear, and are very comfortless besides, merely because they are cheap. And ers, fertilizes the land, and provides food for man and beast. The green leaf, dancing in the sunbeam, breathes out oxygen, and thus maintains the air in a condition favourable to animal life, whilst we in our turn exhale carbonic acid, the necessary aliment of vegetables. does not every day bring to light some new adaptation of powers, some novel interpretation of nature, some hitherto unknown method of rendering her forces subservient to our advantage?___ Nothing then is lost, nothing wasted. The world is a vast workshop, in which light and electricity are the great moving powers, and in which plants and animals, and most of all, man, appear sometimes at work, sometimes as workers. And to what does this lead? We see that labour and production are in harmony with nature and with its Author; that destruction, inactivity, and action without object, are in opposition to nature and to its Author. The idler and the hinderer of labour stand condemned, and the labourer justified and ennobled. But is this all? Is utility our only, our highest aim? No, we still feel dissatisfied, and must look deeper. The world was not formed merely on utilitarian principles. Why, else, were the stars invested with such mysterious beauty; why were the clouds tinged with their varied hues? Without any such adorning they might have served equally well to water the earth. Why was brilliance given to utilitarianism has in it some aspect of sacredness. But if it comes forward as a complete doctrine, and claims to be received as unmixed truth, we can no longer view it with admiration. Among the impertinencies deemed unanswerable by intellectual bantams, the question, "Cui bono?" surely bears the bell. It is accordingly duly mouthed at the artist, the poet, and even the philosopher, if he for a moment make abstract truth his aim. Good answers, to be sure, are not wanting; we can point from the leg of the frog, quivering upon Galvani's work-table, onwards to the electric telegraph and the electrotype. We can show how, by neglecting principles in favour of "applications," by blindly grasping at immediate advantage, men frustrate their own expectations. But we can do more. The question, like an ill-trained war-elephant, may be turned against its employers. Here, for instance, is a man loudly demanding of what use is poetry, and is himself all the while employed in amassing money. Well then, "Cui bono?" Money is avowedly no ultimate end. Or, again, we may lay hold of the man himself, and ask "Cui bono?""What is the use of this mass of bone and muscle, with a modicum of brains, and perhaps an immodicum of stomach? To what end is your existence ? What good are you accomplishing on earth?" It is strange that every animal propensity should be thus allowed to pass unchallenged, recognised, so to speak, as an ultimate object of human pursuit, whilst the highest manifestations of the intellect must be continually called in question. the eye, and eloquence to the lip; and why, lastly, to our souls that inexpressible yearning after truth and beauty, which, all stified though it often be by weakness and error, will still burst forth, even where least awaited? Why will the child, pent up in the pestilent alleys of St. Giles's, that has never gazed upon the fair face of nature, smile and weep at a faded flower, or a stray butterfly winging its way into that moral desert, like a spirit-messenger from some happier sphere? Why will the man whose whole being is absorbed in the pursuit of outward advantage, start at some echo of higher, holier things, some recollection of childhood's innocence, or youth's pure devotion? Why do the down-trodden ones of earth, from whom all light has been shut out, wake as from a trance, and their hearts thrill like a harp-string when the voice of genius peals through their dungeon? Nay, if food and clothes were the ultimate end of our being, why are we capable of science? Had material labour, honourable as it is, been the crowning point of our endeavours, would not instinct have been better for us than reason? Had utility been the ultimate business of humanity, we should, doubtless, have been capable of intuitively constructing locomotives and electric telegraphs, just as the bee builds her comb, without any conception of the "why and wherefore." But such is not our constitution, because God willed that man should be an intellectual being, knowing and desiring the truth even in weakness, rising gradually and by labour from darkness to light. The earth then is not only a work-shop, but likewise a temple, where man appears, or may appear a prophet, drinking in and interpreting the ever-flowing revelations of the Eternal. Here then we view the double function of philosophy; here we see how vain the opposition which some would fain establish between utility and abstract truth or beauty. If such opposition there be, it can but be as with the poles of the magnet, each necessary to the other, though apparently hostile. By strengthening the one we strengthen also the other. Whatever diminishes misery relieves some weak mind from the strain of temptation; whatever lightens human toil sets free a portion of intellect to bask in its native element. Seen in this light we may well say that But the very term utility has been wrongly applied; it has been restricted to those things which have reference to man's outward bodily wants and desires. But are our intellectual, spiritual, wants less real? Is the religion that purifies, the science that enlightens, the poetry that enkindles and elevates our souls, not equally worthy to be termed useful with the bread that feeds, or the cloth that covers our bodies? In this enlarged sense, utilitarianism is an unmixed good. No catechism is so useful to children as their parents' example at home. It is the bright mirror under the roof.-Taylor. THE FAMILY FAILING. THE FAMILY FAILING. CALLING one day to see a worthy citizen who has long been esteemed as a respectable confectioner in Cheapside, we found him very much "put out of the way,"-as he termed his discomposure; and upon inquiring the why and the wherefore, we learnt that he had just been discharging a negligent servant; and this, to a man of John Goodman's disposition, was anything but a pleasant task. But the circumstances attending the untoward affair will be better disclosed, perhaps, if we give the reader Mr. Goodman's own version of the story; and so far as our memory will aid us, we will endeavour to give it in his own words: "During the time I have been in business I have had my share of anxiety, and that arising chiefly from the care-lessness of servants. The youth whom I have just sent away is one instance, out of many, and also out of three of the same family. Now, some time ago, a domestic whom we liked in many respects, and with whose failings Mrs. Goodman has been most lenient for some time (not even making me acquainted with them), having the care of removing our best china tea and breakfast service when one part of the house was undergoing a thorough repair, carelessly left a window open at the time a strong tempest was blowing-hurling down chimney-pots and slates in all directions.-Well, Sir, a large slate was blown, during one of the tremendous gusts, through the open window, and broke a splendid plate-glass mirror; and great as was that loss, it was nothing to what instantly followed: the noise called my attention to the spot, I hurriedly opened the room door, when, gaining additional strength, the powerful current of air rushed through the apartment, and blew the set of china from off the table under the window, on which the girl had placed it not ten minutes before. Such was the force of air that I was blown back upon the landing, and was instantly covered with the beautiful ware, shivered into ten thousand atoms. I think that this would have grieved any man-but I can bear a great deal;-I soon forget injuries, though indignant for the moment,-and when you have heard the sequel of my story, I doubt 23 not but you will blame me, as several of my neighbours do, for behaving with such kindness to undeserving people. Well, Sir, to make a long story short, Jenny was discharged; and, as I said before, it was not till then that I knew so much of her carelessness, and it is more than likely I shall never know what her two years' servitude cost me, as my poor good wife had been striving to make something of the girl, for the sake of her mother, who in her young days, had been a very highly respected and trustworthy servant in another branch of our family. "However, some time after the events just named, Mrs. Goodman, who was aware that I wanted a man in the bakehouse, appealed to me, on the score of humanity, as she often does in such cases, and related such a pitiful story of the death of Jenny's mother, and that her father, who had long been out of employment, would be the very man to suit me, that I engaged him, though I must confess, rather reluctantly. "John came-he was a civil, mild-spoken fellow, very obedient and attentive during your presence; but I soon found out the secret of his being so long out of work before coming into my service-when left to himself, no matter the duties he was called to perform, he had a sort of careless inattentiveness about him, and he not only lacked energy, but in the midst of our warm preparations, if left alone for a moment, he became quite drowsy! It "Well, it was on a particular occasion that I was hastily called away for a few moments, and John was left to attend to a pan on the fire; I was not absent more than ten minutes, when, approaching the spot where I had left him, the smell of fire alarmed me, and hurrying forward, almost breathless, I discovered old John rolling about the floor enveloped in flame. was awful; but taking a carpet that lay rolled close by, and hastily calling for assistance, I wrapped him up as closely as possible, and as the surgeon whom I sent for advised that he should be taken to the hospital, this was done with the greatest tenderness and promptness; the whole house was alarmed, and the surgeon was in immediate attendance upon my poor dear wife, whom we expected had received such a shock as to carry her off; but, thank God, 24 THE FAMILY FAILING she recovered. However, we had no sooner got the suffering man out of the house, than we discovered that the materials left on the fire were entirely spoiled; and the misfortune was also increased by knowing that the season had gone by for replenishing the same article. Poor old John had allowed his white linen coat to come in contact with the fire-his attitude being that of idle carelessness. We never forgot him during the time he was in the hospital; he was cared for as though he was a near relative; and we pitied his son very much, a fine healthy young man, who had just left a situation in the country, and had the misery of finding his father at that moment being conveyed away to the hospital dreadfully burned; however, to throw a ray of cheer on the young man, we took him into the house, and made him useful in any way we could. Well, Sir, this very morning, not feeling very well, I had no relish to walk round to the General Post-Office with some money orders that I wanted cashing, David,' says I, 'take these orders to the Postoffice,-altogether they amount to twenty pounds,—now be careful, David,—they are all signed, and you will have no trouble with them.' Well, "Off he went to the Post-office. Sir, the time began to look long-no David appeared—and, unwell as I was, I went round to look after him;-I found a crowd of people collected;-to be shorthe had received the whole, and laid it down to make a memorandum, and it was gone; he was in tears,-what could I do? what would you have done? you see carelessness was the family failing!” At such a time, when my friend Goodman was writhing under the retrospection of past losses, aggravated by the one just related, anything but a soothing remark would have been uncourteous; however, leaving him to his griefs, which I was happy to find were not unmixed with strong resolves for the future respecting his selection of servants, we pursued our way reflecting on what we had heard. Carelessness has been productive of great disasters among all classes; and the instances here adduced as a proof of its attendant evils, and the lesson that it offers to those who are daily subjected to the chastisement of others on this ground, we earnestly trust will be found beneficial. Whatever view we take on this subject, every one must admit that the faithful and trustworthy person is never a careless "Like his father and sister, David had an amiability about him that would have made anybody partial to him; he was very good-natured, and I believe strictly honest, and no one more regular at church; he read instructive books given to him by Mrs. Goodman-and only that now and then I was irritated to find he had too much of the easy-going turn that characterised his sister and his father, we got on very well together. However, when he had been with me about three months, I had occasion to send him to the station of the Great Western Railway, to inquire after a small parcel that had been left there. Away goes David to the station, (he never lingered by the way, he was very dutiful in that respect,) and procured the parcel. Well, Sir, so far so good. Now it happened that at that moment the Queen, the Prince, and their suite, was announced ;-people were running to one given point, and David must needs be a sheep that would go through the same gap in the hedge: away he went,-but where was the parcel?-at the moment his attention was aroused to the sight-seeing he was engaged in tightening the string that was round it, as it lay on a truss in the open yard; to be brief-he nor I have ever seen it yet-and to add to the grief of it its contents were articles that had been re-life, or how deeply we may be engrossed served at a public sale, as keepsakes from in labour and care, we ought with extreme a family going out to Australia; and you assiduity to cherish a fondness for home.may be sure I was very grieved to lose them. Abbott. one. HOME.-There is something in the very atmosphere which surrounds the family hearth, which will not allow vice to luxuriate there. If a parent would cherish principles of virtue in the bosoms of his children, he must endeavour to surround home with those charms which will call back their hearts when exposed to the cares and temptations of the world. It matters not what may be our situation in |