ey are positively injurious. The early riser and walker, unless long
habituated and naturally vigorous, returns from his exercise draggled,
faint, and exhausted, to begin the digestive labors of the day, and take
his food with hunger rather than appetite. Abstinence has blunted the
nicer perceptions of taste, and the jaded organs lose the power not
only of discriminating flavors, but of knowing when to cry, "Enough!"
"Brushing away the morning dew," like "love in a cottage," is very
pretty in a book, but needs a solid basis in the stomach or in the
larder.

Running is a very healthy and an equally neglected exercise. Few
vocations call upon us to fully expand the chest once a month. Running
improves the wind, it is said. We give the name of long-winded to those
who have a reserve of breathing capacity which they do not use in
ordinary exertions, but which lies ready to carry them through
extraordinary efforts without distress or exhaustion. Such persons
breathe quietly and deeply. Running forms part of the training of the
prize-fighter. It should be begun and ended at a moderate pace, as
a knowing jockey drives a fast horse; otherwise, panting, and even
dangerous congestion, may arise from the too sudden afflux of blood to
the lungs.

Nothing so pleasantly combines mental occupation with bodily labor as
a pursuit of some one of the natural sciences, particularly zooelogy
or botany. If our means allow a microscope to be added to our natural
resources, the field of exercise and pleasure is boundlessly enlarged.
To the labor of collecting specimens is joined the exhilaration of
discovery; and he who has once opened the outer gate of the sanctuary of
Nature finds in the study of her _arcana_ a pastime which will be a joy
forever.

Our larger towns and cities still support gymnasia of greater or
less size and perfectness. But the modern gymnasium has two great
deficiencies: the lack of open air, and of the emulation arising from
publicity. The first is a very grave objection. Not a tithe of the
benefits of exercise can be obtained within-doors. The sallow mechanic
and the ruddy farmer are the two points of comparison. The one may work
as hard and be as strong as the other, and yet we cannot call him as
healthy. Nothing short of Nature's own sweet air will supply the highest
physical needs of the human frame. As our gymnasia are usually private,
and only moderately frequented, the gymnast is not stimulated to those
exerti