suffice to show that here is such a complicated combination of the action of numerous muscles, that a first-rate mathematician, the senior wrangler at Cambridge, would be puzzled, and pronounce it impossible to solve the problem with what force each muscle should be exerted to accomplish the given result. Difficulties baffling the mathematician are practically and easily met by means of that wonderful precision of action given to the muscles by Him to whom all things are possible, and who knoweth that, as animated beings, we have need of these things, and must be supplied with the means of rapidly effecting what no science can enable us to calculate. In the case of the sling, the projectile is detached at a point of revolution in the circle, the plane of which is as unknown as the point of detachment; and both of these must have a steady relation to the velocity of revolution, and to the elevation and distance of the object, or the mark would be missed. Of all these things the slinger is utterly ignorant; and were he a profound mathematician he could not more scientifically hit his mark than did, in ancient times, the youthful population of the Balearic Isles, whose children were taught to strike down with the sling their morning meal before they were allowed to break their fast.

The constancy of action which the muscular system developes presents some interesting and important phenomena. Any voluntary action, at first, requires a distinct effort of the will. To produce two motions of the same kind in succession requires some thought. Where many acts in succession are to be produced, if distinct thought and volition are to be applied to each, much time will be lost and much effort will be expended; whilst the results will be unsatisfactory and the process wearisome. Repetition of effort causes successive actions to be performed without any sensible effort of the will. They become precise and certain. Admirable, though incomprehensible, is this law of animal nature. What economy of time and of labour it accomplishes! How incalculable a sum of bad and impatient temper it saves! That which used to be done slowly, is now done quickly; what required much muscular effort, or produced much sensible fatigue, is now performed with little effort and less exhaustion. See the child first fingering the pianoforte with the musicbook before her, with difficulty and at awful intervals placing her finger on the right key, and that same child, when habitthat mysterious phenomenon of our nature -has enabled to perform with precision and ease, amounting almost to inattention, a piece of music marked, allegro con spirito.

It is, in fact, this law of habit that makes man what he is. Without it, man would be an infant all his life long. He is dexterous in any art, clever at any manipulations, skilful as a mechanic, because of habit. In the circus, on the tight or slack rope, as a tumbler, or adroit in balancing a chair upon his chin, man achieves the very useful, or the merely amusing, from this mysterious law, which enables man to perform a hundred actions, all under the control of his volition, and yet through habit not requiring that he. should distinctly attend to the operation of his will in any of them. Through this important law man is able to walk; for without it, the man of forty would totter like the infant of days. It is owing to this law that the world is not always in a state of infancy. For who does not see, that little could be done in life, if every one's attention were so occupied in thinking how to do what must be done, that the time necessary for determining the mode left but little for carrying out the plan? If we had to calculate what muscles to set in motion, and with what degree and variety of force that muscular energy was to be exerted, who would ever make a clever mechanic? who would ever get through a pedestrian journey of a hundred miles? who would ever execute a piece of difficult music? or, who would ever be a man in practical wisdom? Man is "a bundle of habits;" and well for him is it, that this is the law of his nature, imposed on him by the Author of his being, and the Giver of every good and perfect gift.

SOLID GAS.

MURDOCK first used gas to light up his office at Redruth, in 1792. "It would," says Liebig, "be one of the greatest discoveries of the age, if any one could succeed in condensing coal-gas into a white, dry, solid, odorless substance, portable, and capable of being placed on a candlestick or burned in a lamp." Already is the desire of Liebig being accomplished. A mineral oil flowed out of coal in Derbyshire, obviously produced by slow distillation from the coal. On examination, it has been ascertained that paraffine, a solid waxy substance, hitherto never produced from coal, could be formed in commercial qualities by a slow and regular distillation. This is condensed coal-gas; a solid form of olefiant gas desired by Liebig. In forming cakes, this product, dissolved in an oil of a similar composition, may be readily obtained, instead of the waste gases now thrown away. Should this discovery be as successful as it promises, a great change will be wrought in fuel as well as illuminating gas.

THE LEMMON SLAVES.

A FAMILY SKETCH.

THE case of the Lemmon Slaves-now slaves no longer, for they are safe in Canada-having been recently before the public, the following sketch will be read with interest:

About fourteen years ago there lived in Bath County, Virginia, a planter, who was commonly called "Billy Douglass." He had six children, to each of whom he gave a slave about their own age when they were quite young. These slaves grew up with his children and became in due time their attendants. When Douglass died he possessed about forty slaves, which were divided among his family, and by that means became separated from each other, the Douglass family then residing in different parts of Virginia. Among the slaves given away was a boy, named Levi; he fell to the lot of Mary Douglass, by whom, until her marriage, he was well treated. When he was about nineteen years of age, his mistress married a man of no very reputable character, of the name of Simmons. As soon as he became master of the slaves of his wife, their situation was materially changed for the worse. and another slave, of the name of James Wright, had ventured to ask their mistress not to marry this Simmons, for they feared his cruel treatment. This fact came to his knowledge, and to punish their audacity he determined to sell them to the far south. Having learned that a negro trader, by the name of Witheroe, was at a town twelve miles off, on his way to Alabama, with a cofile of thirty-nine slaves, he brought him to his house, where he saw Levi and Wright, and privately struck a bargain for them.

Levi

The manner in which they were inspected by Witheroe, though intended to disarm suspicion, nevertheless aroused it, and became the subject of serious consideration between Levi and Wright. They felt persuaded that they had been sold by their master for the southern market, but they resolved that they would not go thither, and made their arrangements accordingly.

The morning after the sale had been effected, Witheroe made his appearance, accompanied by several men, and announced to Levi and Wright the fact that they were his slaves, and must proceed immediately to join the coffle, then waiting for them at the neighbouring town.

Handcuffs were produced, and were about being placed on their wrists, when they stated that it was unnecessary that they should be so fastened, as they were quite willing and ready to go with him anywhere, for they were tired of living with Simmons. Witheroe thereupon consented to let them go with him unfettered. Knowing the country well, Levi and Wright planned their escape so as most effectually to baffle the pursuit of Witheroe and his party. Having taken a hasty leave of such fellow slaves as were near, they set out, with apparent cheerfulness, with the negro trader; but they had not been more than half an hour on the road, when, as they had preconcerted, they suddenly leaped over a fence, and being active young men, were soon buried in the depths of the adjacent wood, whither their pursuers in vain attempted to follow them. They felt the importance of hastening their steps, and travelled as fast as they were able, a distance of sixty miles. At the en dof their journey they obtained shelter and refreshment among some slaves whom they had formerly known in their own neigh bourhood. As soon as they had sufficiently rested, they started for Ohio, but, by some mishap, were seen and pursued by a party of twenty-five men.

They exerted themselves to the utmost to escape, but Wright only was able to effect it. Levi was taken and put in jail, where he was duly advertised as a runaway. There he was confined five weeks, waiting the arrival of his owner. In the meantime, being an excellent dancer, he managed to get into the good graces of his jailer, who invited white people to come and see his feats. They often gave him pieces of money, and finding that his keeper was fond of whisky, he liberally supplied him with it out of the proceeds. Having made arrangements for his escape from this prison-house, he seized his opportu nity, when his keeper was in a state of complete intoxication-and he had no one to oppose but the keeper's wife. Having casily overcome her resistance, he fled a second time for Ohio, where, after incredible fatigue, and almost famished for want of food, he safely arrived. There he fell in with the managers of the "Underground Railroad," and was soon placed by them in a position of comparative safety. After labouring some time in the country, he removed to Cleveland, and there he became a waiter in one of the hotels, where, for a while, we must leave him and return

to his fellow fugitive, James Wright. He succeeded, after great exertion, in reaching Ohio, and by the aid cheerfully rendered by the friends of the flying slave, was forwarded to Canada, where he now follows the occupation of a farmer, and can sit under the shelter of his own roof, 66 'none daring to make him afraid."

Levi having engaged with Wright, that in case they should be separated in their flight, and afterwards be fortunate enough to reach Canada, they would meet at Malden, he, in August last year, went thither to make inquiries. At that time he knew not whether Wright was dead or alive, a freeman or a slave, and scarcely ventured to hope that he should meet him again. However, on his arrival at Malden, he found that Wright was cultivating a small farm on shares, a few miles off, and was doing well. He soon had the satisfaction of meeting him, and their joy was unbounded when they grasped each other's hands in a land of freedom. Levi had the additional gratification of meeting two of his cousins in Malden, who had previously escaped from "the house of bondage." Finding some of his relations and friends in this town and neighbourhood, and not judging himself quite secure from the operation of the Fugitive Slave Law in Cleveland, he purchased a small lot of land, determining to settle in Malden as soon as he conveniently could. With this prospect in view, he returned to Cleveland, and there resumed his occupation as a waiter.

One morning, while the case of the Lemmon slaves was under adjudication at New York, he had read the particulars, and at once discovered in them near and dear relations. He immediately put himself in communication with a friend in Cleveland, who telegraphed the fact to one of the Committee in New York; when, after due caution, it was determined that he should proceed thither without delay. This he did; and we had the satisfaction of knowing that in Nancy he found a sister, in Emeline an aunt, in their children nephews and cousins, and in the two youths who were with them, brothers. But this was not all; he announced James Wright to be the husband of Nancy, and the father of her children. Thus, by a wonderful interposition of Providence, have these poor people been brought together again under happy circumstances, instead of having to wear out a miserable existence on the slave plantations of Alabama and Texas.

The case of Emeline is distinguished from that of Nancy in one or two particulars. Her first husband, Tom Reynolds, was sold by his master, a man of the name of Wood, to a planter of the name of Cob Reynolds, residing somewhere on James's River. He

was thus separated from his wife and children, and they from him. Finding it was not probable that he would ever see his wife again, or be able to do anything for her, he sent her word to that effect, and released her from her obligations to him. She subsequently formed a new connection with another slave, the father of one or two of her younger children, from whom she is now separated. Whether her first husband is still alive, or where her second husband now is, Levi, from whose lips we received the foregoing particulars, could not say; and Emeline, having left New York, could not be consulted.

The mother of Levi is still in slavery, with eight of her children, and these are in the hands of four different slaveholders. The eldest of her children in slavery is twenty-five years old; the youngest an infant, born since Levi's escape.

DR. DODDRIDGE'S DREAM.

IT is not strange that such a man as Dr. Doddridge, who lived as every Christian ought to live, in intimate communion with God daily, quite in the precincts of heaven, and whose heart and soul was continually anticipating the joys of that glorious world, should have been the subject of the following remarkable dream :

Dr. Doddridge was on terms of very intimate friendship with Dr. Samuel Clarke, and in religious conversation they spent many happy hours together. Among other matters a very favourite topic was the intermediate state of the soul, and the probability that at the instant of dissolution it was not introduced into the presence of all the heavenly hosts, and the splendours around the throne of God. One evening, after, a conversation of this nature, Dr. Doddridge retired to rest with his mind full of the subject discussed, and in the "visions of the night," his ideas were shaped into the following beautiful form:-He dreamed that he was at the house of a friend, when he was suddenly taken dangerously ill. By degrees he seemed to grow worse and at last to expire. In an instant he was sensible that he exchanged the prison-house and sufferings of mortality for a state of liberty and happiness. Embodied in a splendid aërial form, he seemed to float in a region of pure light. Beneath him lay the earth, but not a glittering city or village, the forest or the sea, was visible. There was nought to be seen below save the melancholy group of friends, weeping around his lifeless remains.

Himself thrilled with delight, he was surprised at their tears, and attempted to inform them of his change, but, by some

mysterious power, utterance was denied; and, as he anxiously leaned over the mourning circle, gazing fondly upon them, and struggling to speak, he rose silently upon the air; their forms became more and more distant, and gradually melted away from his sight. Reposing upon golden clouds, he found himself swiftly mounting the skies, with a venerable figure at his side guiding his mysterious movement, and in whose countenance he remarked the lineaments of youth and age were blended together with an intimate harmony and majestic sweetness. They travelled through a vast region of empty space, until at length the battlements of a glorious edifice shone in the distance, and as its form rose brilliant and distinct among the far-off shadows that flitted across their path, the guide informed him, that the palace he beheld was for the present to be his mansion of rest. Gazing upon its splendour he replied, that while on earth he had heard, that "eye had not seen, nor had the ear heard, nor could it enter into the heart of man to conceive the things which God had prepared for those who love Him;" but, notwithstanding the building to which they were then rapidly approaching was superior to anything he had ever before seen, yet its grandeur had not exceeded the conceptions he had formed. The guide made no reply, they were already at the door, and entered.

The guide introduced him into a spacious apartment, at the extremity of which stood a table covered with a snow-white cloth, a golden cup, and a cluster of grapes; and there he said he must remain, for he would receive in a short time a visit from the Lord of the mansion, and that during the interval before his arrival, the apartment would furnish him with sufficient entertainment and instruction. The guide vanished, and he was left alone. He began to examine the decorations of the room, and observed that the walls were adorned with a number of pictures. Upon nearer inspection, he found, to his astonishment, that they formed a complete biography of his own life. Here he saw upon the canvas angels, though unseen, had ever been his familiar attendants, and, sent by God, they had sometimes preserved him from immediate peril. He beheld himself first as an infant just expiring, when his life was prolonged by an angel gently breathing into his nostrils. Most of the occurrences here delineated were perfectly familiar to his recollection, and unfolded many things which he had never before understood, and which had perplexed him with many doubts and much uneasiness. Among others he was particularly struck with a picture in which he was represented as

falling from his horse, when death would have been inevitable had not an angel received him in his arms, and broken the force of his descent. These merciful interpositions of God filled him with joy and gratitude, and his heart overflowed with love as he surveyed in them all an exhibition of goodness and mercy far beyond all that he had imagined. Suddenly his attention was arrested by a rap at the door. The Lord of the mansion had arrived-the door opened, and he entered. So powerful and so overwhelming, and withal of such singular beauty was His appearance, that he sank down at His feet completely overcome by His majestic presence. His Lord gently raised him from the ground, and, taking his hands, led him forward to the table. He pressed with his fingers the juice of the grapes into the cup, and, after having drank himself, presented it to him, saying, "this is the new wine in my Father's kingdom." No sooner had he partaken, than all uneasy sensations vanished. Perfect love had cast out fear, and he conversed with his Saviour as an intimate friend. Like the silver rippling of the summer sea, he heard fall from his lips the grateful approbation: "Thy labours are over, thy work is approved, rich and glorious is thy reward." Thrilled with an unspeakable bliss, that glided into the very depth of ́his soul, he suddenly saw glories upon glories, bursting upon his view. The Doctor awoke. Tears of rapture from his joyful interview were rolling down his cheeks. Long did the lively impressions of this charming dream remain upon his mind, and never could he speak of it without emotions of joy and tenderness.

CONSEQUENCES OF COLD FEET. IF there be one subject that beyond all others demands the earnest attention of mothers, that subject is the protection of the feet of her daughter from the cold and dampness of the pavement. We give it more than usual prominence, because the evil is neither understood nor regarded in any other light than a remote contingency not worth a moment's thought, when compared to the gratification of making an impression on her admirers, by what she imagines a beautiful foot.

Physiologists have proved, by actual experiments with the thermometer, that the central heat of the body, or that of the blood as it issues from its starting-point, the left ventricle of the heart, is 101 degrees; and that at the sole of the foot it is not more than 90 degrees!

The great and unchangeable law of the Creator that develops life, is warmth. The egg of the fowl only possesses latent life,

till the warmth of the mother expands the germ, and gives the heart its first contractile, or active force; without warmth it would never assume its organized form, nor continue its action; this gives conclusive evidence of the truthfulness of our motto.

It is conceded by all intelligent observers, that a violent chill communicated to the body is very soon and sensibly felt in the lungs, and that pleurisies and inflammation of the lungs themselves are the frequent consequences of such exposure. Now it is known that heat or caloric has a tendency to equalize itself in all the various bodies in the universe; ice itself only melting by the inevitable necessity of imbibing heat when exposed to it; according to this unchangeable law, it can only exist as ice during the summer months by interposing between the atmosphere and it substances possessing a known power of repelling heat. Thus it is preserved in icehouses. When the earth is colder than the body, this law instantly begins to operate upon the feet standing upon it, and as the body is a producer of heat, its safety is secured precisely in proportion to the vigour of health it possesses, or, in other words, the rapidity with which its blood circulates through the lungs. It therefore follows, that the feebler the circulation, the more unable the body is to afford to part with its heat. If you clothe the body warmly, and thus prevent its warmth from transmission to the atmosphere, and interpose a cork solę between the sole of the foot and the earth, this transmission of heat is stopped, because cork, wool, silk, and cotton are non-conductors of heat.

In a woman of ordinary size, there can be no reasonable doubt, from the computation of physiologists, that half of her blood passes under her feet during the space of every two minutes, at least; so that it will be seen the conducting power of the damp earth must continually deprive the blood of its warmth. The effect of cold upon the nerves is more rapid than this. It is known to most persons that instantaneous sneezing is often produced by standing on the cold hearthstone or oilcloth, and the speedy action of damp or cold feet on the bowels is often painfully evident to many invalids. Assuming the body to be a producer of electricity,—and it seems impossible to conclude otherwise, -that fluid is known to be subject to the same law as heat, that is, to seek an instant equilibrium with surrounding objects. There can be no better conductor than the damp earth; all positively and negatively electrified bodies, not isulated or cut off by a non-conductor, seek an

instant equilibrium. The law is well known to philosophers, and ought to be equally so to every intelligent and rational being; therefore it must be, that if heat and electricity be not the same thing, still the same danger must be incurred by too light clothing and shoes. Dr. James Murray has asserted, and he thinks proved, that cholera is rendered impossible by isulating the feet by cork soles, and feeding and clothing the body so as to keep up a high degree of electricity. All experience has proved that those persons most afflicted during both the epidemics which occurred in London, were those who endured the greatest exposure to dampness, and ate the most watery and illcooked food; and, what is more clusive, that they were mostly attacked towards morning, when the atmospheric pressure was lowest.

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Cork soles, of proper thickness, are an absolute non-conductor; and when the leather of the shoes is of good quality, they will prove sufficient for all the purposes of health. Without such or similar protection, woman is never safe from the vicissitudes of an English climate, nor from the liability to disease, which will not only soon destroy her gracefulness and beauty, but by sapping the constitution, will bring on premature decay and constant ill-health, or result in early death.

INTRODUCTION OF METHODISM
INTO FRANCE.

Ir was in 1790, and from the island of Guernsey, that the beneficent light of Methodism first visited Frauce. A Mr. John Angel had some business in Coursenil, a small town on the coast of Normandy, which obliged him to visit it. On one occasion he spent the Sabbath there, and, of course, sought out and found a Protestant place of worship, where a remnant, who had outlived the numerous persecutions by which they had been assailed, met together to worship God. An elder read the Scriptures, and a sermon of one of the ancient worthies of the Reformed Church. This was all the service,-these little congregations having the visit of their pastors only two or three times in the whole year. Mr. Angel went again in the afternoon. None but women were present, and they invited him, as the only man present, to read the Scriptures. He declined this at first; but on their entreating him again to do so, he consented. He read the interview of Christ with the Samaritan woman; and his heart being warmed by reading it, he began, in the old Methodist fashion, to describe his conversion, and relate his actual religious experience. At the close of his discourse, a woman rises in the meeting, and says, "I