of the sabbath, in my fourth; on parochial government continued, and on parochial improvement in my fifth; and on parochial government in my sixth.

DIALOGUE ON PAUPERISM.

[The following Dialogue between a Select Vestryman and a Labourer, was composed from conversations held with labourers at different times, and was first published in 1826, in my pamphlet on Pauperism. It may be of use in throwing a little light on the unlearned in such matters.]

Could I say a word to you, sir, concerning this old man? Oh! certainly; what does he want?

He wants you to speak for him in the vestry. He is more than three score and ten. He has been a good workman in

his time, but you see he is almost done: you won't say but the parish ought to do something for such as him, for he has not a penny nor a penny's worth.

The parish ought to do! he ought to have done for himself. Above fifty years' labour, a good workman, and not saved one penny! I dare say, if he had all the money he has spent in getting drunk, and all the wages of the idle days he had made, he would not need to trouble the parish.

Bless you, sir! he never had it in his power to drink much. He has brought up a large family, as many as ten children. He loved a little drink, too, when he could catch it; he is but like other folks in that.

The more's the pity; but so it is, if your neighbours do wrong, that is an excuse for you all: because others drink their wages, and come upon the parish, you think you will do the same, that they may have no advantage over you. I

suppose what you call bringing up these ten children was keeping them in filth and rags, and, instead of sending them to school, going himself to the alehouse. Where were they generally to be found?-tumbling about in the lanes without shoes and stockings?

There was no great care taken of them, I believe.

So there is not one now able to do anything towards helping the old man. What has become of them all? But, perhaps, the less that is said about them, the better.

Why, they didn't turn out so well as they might have done, any of them.

I dare say they turned out quite as well as could be expected. Now, if he had laid out his spare money in bringing up his family carefully, do you suppose there would not have been one out of his ten children, or his ten children's children, able to assist him in return?

It's much if there would not.

Well! at any rate he might have taught them to be honest, and industrious, and clean, and civil spoken; all that costs nothing, you know, but a little trouble, and setting a good example. He would then have had no difficulty in finding them good places; and when they had got a little money themselves, they could have gone to a night school, or something of that sort, and it would be strange if some of them had not got forward in the world. Respectable people like to take those they employ, out of a well reputed family; and, when they have taken them, to stand their friends; and one good one in a family helps on another.

Well! I never thought of all that before.

Many a lucky thing will fall out that you never thought of, if you will but do the best you can for yourselves: but if you cannot do just as you wish, you will do nothing, or worse than nothing. If a labouring man has a large family, I know that it requires management to bring them up well, but he can sooner get them out for it, and in return they

are sure to be able to repay him some time, some of them, instead of coming to him again, as perhaps this old man's have done.

Ay, they've troubled him sadly in that way.

Well, then, it is good both ways, you see; not that I approve of parents depending upon their children in their old age, except where they have had more than common difficulties to strive against, or where they have done more for their children than in their situation could have been expected of them. In other cases, they ought to lay by for themselves, and leave their children free.

But there are not many that can do as you say.

What is to prevent them, unless it be poaching, rat hunting, bear baiting, frequenting the alehouse, and the like? In the mean time their children run wild, half-clothed, halfstarved, stealing any thing they can lay hold of. If you were a master, would you employ such?

I don't think I should be very fond of them.

The consequence is, therefore, they can only get odd jobs now and then, when there is more work than hands; and they get idle, drunken, dishonest habits, which soon leave them only two chances-a gaol or the workhouse. Instead of thinking of raising themselves, they think how little work they can do, how much drink they can get, how much they can pillage, or, what is very little better, how they can impose on the parish; for all that the idle get, must come out of somebody's industry or property. Now, what do you say?

Why, I believe, sir, you have given nearly a true account; but as for this old fellow, you must recollect that the times have been very bad.

I know that; but do you mean to say that he laid by money when the times were good, and that you apply to the parish for him, because he has spent all his savings in keeping himself since times have been so bad?

Nay, I can't say I think he ever saved much.

Then what better would he be now, however good the times had been? Would he be a penny richer? With most of you (I don't say all) the only difference between good and bad times is, that when they are good, you drink more and work less, and when they are very good, there are many who choose to work and starve one week, in order to drink and be idle the next, and that is all the good they get. You know, they say they belong to a good parish; they don't care for spending the last penny; they are sure to be provided for; there's property enough. They shall be provided for, they may depend upon it; they shall be provided with hard work and coarse food. The money that is taken from the industrious to keep the idle, shall no longer be taken in this parish. As for this foolish old man, he is past mending, so we must see what little work he can do, and allow him some trifle in addition. When any one of you once think of living by any other means than your own honest labour, from that moment, you may depend upon it, you doom yourselves to lives of poverty and wretchedness. So, good bye to you, and take care of yourself.

Well, sir! I have never troubled the parish for a farthing. It would have been a disgrace if you had; but have you never thought about it? How often have you and your wife talked it over when any of your neighbours got relief? How often have they tried to persuade you to apply, and told you you were fools for slaving? If you had not been ashamed to show those active limbs of yours, should we never have seen you at the vestry? Come, be honest, and tell the truth. Well! I won't press you; your silence is an answer. I'll tell you what-the parish is the ruin of nearly all of you; and they are your worst enemies that countenance you in having any thing to do with it. Again, let me advise you to depend only upon yourself.

THE ART OF ATTAINING HIGH HEALTH.

(Continued.)

Of Diet.-Health depends on diet, exercise, sleep, the state of the mind, and the state of the atmosphere, and on nothing else that I am aware of. I have been accustomed, for many years, to take the air before I eat, or even drink a drop of liquid, and at whatever time I rise, or whatever the weather is. Sometimes I am only out for a few minutes; but even a few draughts of the open air, when taken regularly as part of a system, produce a tonic effect; and I attribute my constant health more to this practice, than to any other individual thing. Sometimes I walk or ride a considerable distance, or transact business for some hours; and twice I have ridden thirty miles, and sat magisterially for a couple of hours, before breaking my fast, or feeling the slightest inconvenience. This strength arises from habit, and I observe my rule so religiously, that I should have the greatest repugnance to break it, from a thorough conviction of its efficacy. To those who are not in a situation, or have not the resolution, to adopt my practice, I recommend as near an approach to it as possible. I recommend them before taking any thing, either solid or liquid, to perform their ablutions, and to dress completely, and to breathe for a time the freshest air they can find, either in doors or out. I also recommend them to engage themselves in some little employment agreeable to the mind, so as not to breakfast till at least an hour and a half or two hours after rising. This enables the stomach to disburden itself and prepare for a fresh supply, and gives it a vigorous tone. I am aware that those who have weak digestions, either constitutionally or from bad habits, would suffer great inconvenience from following my rules all at once. I remember the faintness and painful cravings I used to feel after rising, and like others I mistook weakness for appetite;