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exercise. If you wish for peevishness, irritability, weakness and want, suffering and sorrow-neglect this truth. Be less happy than your Creator made you to be. Sin against knowledge, and regret it too late.

Immediately after and for two or three hours after dinner is not the best time for exercise, because the stomach is full and prevents the easy and complete descent of the diaphragm or the great muscle for drawing in breath, also because all the energies of the body are wanted for digestion in the stomach; and either intense thinking or intense work of any kind will abstract energy from the digestive organs. A dog or a cat, a horse or a lion, lies down and sleeps when its stomach is full. But these animals have uncertain hours of feeding, and gorge themselves like beasts as they are. Whereas man apportions his food to regular quantities at regular times-at least he does if he be wise and so never eats too much at once-at least if he be wise. Consequently he has no need to lie down and sleep after his dinner, unless indeed he have fed like a beast. How can you at once circulate your blood, ventilate your blood, and strengthen your body at one and the same time? There is only one way. Physic won't do it. Quackery won't do it. No one can do it for you. Walk six miles, or trot or canter twelve, every evening after seven o'clock. If you did not know this before, you know it now; you cannot now unknow it; the knowledge is not without its responsibility; if therefore you refuse so easy, so simple, so natural, so efficacious a plan-yourselves will be the losers.

PHONOGRAPHY.

BY THE EDITOR.

[Continued from page 128]

"The invention all admired, and each how he
To be the inventor missed, so easy it seemed

Once found, which yet unfound, most would have thought
Impossible."

LORD BACON has asked, "Since things alter for the worse spontaneously, if they be not altered for the better designedly, what end will there be of evil?" This is just the danger with letters and spelling at the present time. Spelling has altered for the worse spontaneously, and if we do not alter it for the better designedly there will be no end of evil. Unfortunately, spelling is regarded by most Englishmen as a sort of institution-something to be spoken of with respectful awe, and almost elevated by the ultra orthodox to a level with our national liberties. A man had almost better pick a pocket than spell badly. Lindley Murray terms orthography the "just" method of spelling words. If time permitted, I could show that the present is a very unjust method of spelling; unjust to the child, whose days at school are wasted and embittered by it; unjust to the adult, who cannot tell how to spell words he has not seen written, or pronounce words he has

never heard spoken; unjust to all who read and write, by reason of its being a bungling, time-wasting, annoying, and antiquated system, unsuited to the present age of many books and much writing; and above all unjust to the labouring classes, amongst whom and their children it has been the cause of an untold amount of ignorance.

Another complaint against the present system of writing is its extreme length and tediousness. Longhand is not able to compete with steam and the telegraph. A more expeditious method of writing is demanded by the necessities of the age. "Who that

is much in the habit of writing, has not often wished for some means of expressing by two or three dashes of the pen that which, as things are, it requires such an expenditure of time and labour to commit to paper? Our present mode of communication must be felt to be cumbersome in the last degree, unworthy of these days of invention. We require some means of bringing the operations of the mind and the hand into closer correspondence." What shifts and tricks people are, as it were, forced to practice, to facilitate writing. I have seen writing wherein some words were so badly written that I have been uncharitable enough to believe that the illegibility was intended to conceal the writer's ignorance of spelling. Some people won't dot their i's, others neglect to cross their t's, thus saving a little of their own time and wasting a good deal of other people's. Then the excuses that are made by longhand correspondents for not answering your letters, are all variations upon one string-want of time. This excuse is not a valid one with phonographers, who are able to write as fast as they can speak, or almost think. And oh, the pleasure of correspondence upon this new "railroad system," as Dr. Raffles truly called it, would alone be ample compensation for the trouble of learning it. None but those who practice this beautiful system of writing enjoy the delights of letter writing, and the communication and interchange of thought with more than the

fluency of speech, and none of its impediments. Longhand writers know what a task letter-writing is-how their best thoughts vanish before they can put down one half of them,-how pleased they are to receive letters, but how unwilling often to answer them. Phonography has been aptly called "talking on paper." Thousands of letters written in this system have passed through the post-office every week for many years past. I have brothers in America and Australia to whom I constantly write in phonography. Think of the saving in postage, paper and time. Then the art must especially commend itself to the ladies, who are great letter writers. "Stolen waters," it is said, 66 are sweet;" then how sweet must be the phonographic love-letters which can be read only by the interested parties. One blessed advantage arising from this system is that it does away with the troublesome annoyance of crossed letters. A lady phonographer of our acquaintance thus writes:-"How full and expressive are phonographic letters! None but those who have received them can form any idea of the power which they have to call forth the kindly feelings of human nature, and the spirit of universal brotherhood." The author of "The Evangel of Love," Mr. Henry S. Sutton, now editor of the Alliance newspaper, says:— "Our living flocks of thoughts need no longer trudge it slowly and wearily down the pen and along the paper, hindering each other as they struggle through the straight gate of the old handwriting; our troops of feelings need no more crawl, as snails crawl, to their station on the page; regiment after regiment may now trot briskly forward, to fill paragraph after paragraph: and writing, once a trouble, is now at breathing ease. Our kind and loving thoughts, warm and transparent, liquid as melted from the hot heart, shall no longer grow opaque and freeze with a tedious dribbling from the pen; but the whole soul may now pour itself forth in a sweet shower of words. Phonotopy and phonography will be of a use in the world not yet dreamed of, but by a few. Aye,

and shake your heads as ye will, they will uproot the old spelling; they will yet triumph over the absurdities of the dead age."

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The Rev. W. H. Milburn,-the blind minister from Pennsylvania, lately chaplain to the Congress of the United States, and author of "The Rifle, the Axe, and the Saddle-bags,"-in a lecture I reported on "Western Mind, its Manifestations, Eloquence, and Humour," gave an amusing description of the miseries attending longhand writing. When describing western orators, who had received their education at the "stump," he said "The speaking man addressing listening men I call the oldest and noblest attitude of man in relation to his fellows. I do not undervalue the pen, I do not ignore the service of literature, I do not scoff at the press, but I do know that the pen is a very troublesome instrument. Let any man fancy for an instant that "Paradise Lost" were constructed differently, and that the speeches between Adam and Eve, not the most dramatic in the world, to be sure, were all cast out, and that you had a series of love letters introduced that you had a correspondence. The idea of people writing in Paradise! It is utterly absurd. There never was a pen until there was a curse. The pen always reminds me of a curse, of thorns and thistles, and briars and brambles. When I have been bending over a table trying to write something-I never could write, never could succeed at it, but still have tried-when bending over a table with a shade down upon my brow-the weather is hot and the sweat is trickling down, and the tears running out of my eyes, and my spine is twisted and bent, and I am all quivering with fatigue, and my fingers are all black and dirty with ink, and nobody can read the hieroglyphic caligraphy, which I have been trying to transcribecertainly, I say the pen is related to the curse!" Phonographers will relish his abuse of longhand and its perplexities, but swift writing bears the palm over speaking; the writer has all mankind for his audience,

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