no !

I have a constitution as hardy as that enjoyed by the twentyfour blackbirds, and like them, as soon as the pie was opened I began to sing-also to holloa and shriek, for the carving-fork-enormous forkhad transfixed me as I lay.

"Whatever shall I do!" I roared. Somebody whispered to me, "Kick the cook."

EFFECTS OF WHISKY.

Accordingly I kicked him into the fire, where, being a confirmed and unpledgable drunkard, the whisky with which he was saturated, caught-flamed-and at last set the house on fire. I saw my danger-jumped out of the pie-scraped off the pie-crust

"Out again!" I cried, but I was in again in a minute, for the house being of wood and plaster, the rafters caught-burnt partly through— broke-and in came the roof upon me.

Now," said I, "I ought to be smothered." And should have been, I believe, but for the great earthquake, which coming through Glasgow at that minute, turned over the Penny Kitchen, and I was released. Without further mishap I hastened to London, anxiously wishing to inform the editor of the Times of my safe and wonderful escape.

Arrived in London, I hastened to the famous establishment and inquired for my friend; but, passing through the machine-room, where they were but just commencing to print the early edition— what must I do but fall into the Hoe's machine-stupidly and illegally left unguarded—perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that I came out in Printing-house Square with all the news EARLY COPY OF THE of the coming day legibly printed upon me. I could not stop now to talk with the editor. Why had I come back at all? I ran down Water Lane, chased by an eager mob— who insisted upon reading Reuter's telegrams of the great Confederate victory, off the back of my celebrated coat.

Times.

"Nothing but water, and plenty of it," I cried, throwing my arms wildly in the air. I felt there was but one mode of ridding myself of the inquisitive crowd, and at the same time, the disagreeable news which I had hanging about me.

I reached Bridge Street, the crowd increasing-made a rush—threw myself off the wooden bridge at Blackfriars, plump into the Thames, and going rapidly down the river with the tide, got back to the edge of the world, where I sat down to rest myself after my manifold trials and sufferings.

LUCKY ESCAPE.

WH

HEN a man ventures to give advice unsolicited, it behoves him to do so modestly, bearing in remembrance that his advice may be refused. Holding this opinion, it is with a feeling of diffidence that I presume to say to my readers (quite in a suggestive and humble way), put your pipe out.

Of course I say it to those of them who smoke. I may also remark that I address myself only to philosophical boys,-to those boys who sometimes reflect with pride that, if they live, they will one day become the managers of their country, the fathers of our families, the leaders of our armies, the directors of our commerce, the defenders of our religious and civil liberties,-in short, the men of this kingdom.

To those peculiar boys who imagine that they are men already in everything except size, and who are addicted to saying "pshaw !" and "bosh!" to all advice that does not accord with their own wishes, I have nothing whatever to say, knowing well that it would be easier to make a pig go, of its own accord, in the right direction than to induce such boys to put their pipes out.

To exercise his reasoning powers is one of man's highest privileges. Strange, passing strange it is, that so many men esteem this privilege so lightly, and avail themselves of it so carelessly.

"On what ground, Tom," says John, “do you hold that opinion?" Tom, if an impatient fellow, says, "Don't bother;" if irascible, he exclaims, "Tut;" if an unreasoning creature-like, for example, an ass he replies, "Because I choose;" but, in nine cases out of ten, it will be found that Tom has no good ground for his opinion. He got it somehow, he holds it firmly, perhaps he loves it dearly: it may be right or it may be wrong, but, right or wrong, as far as Tom's knowledge goes, it has no foundation whatever. Like Mahomet's coffin, it is supported on nothing, and, in that view of the question, is worth just as much as the ground on which it is supported.

Were I writing for men I would not venture to write so plainly.

Men feel most appropriately that they ought to know the ground on which rests every opinion they hold. Feeling this, and knowing their imperfection in this respect, many of them (happily not all) nail their opinions to the mast, shut their eyes tight, and fight like Britons to the death, rather than give in. But I write for boys-for those who know that they are only learning, who admit that they may be wrong at times, and who are willing to acquire new ideas and to renounce old ones on good reason for the change being shown. Hopefully, therefore, I reiterate the advice (modestly, remember, and quite in a suggestive way), put your pipe out.

Ha! that is the question, the right question, to which I will give the best reply in my power; and I beg of those boys who have studied Whately's Logic" to test the truth of what I say by the rules laid down in the volume of that eminent and much-neglected author.

My first proposition is, that smoking is unmanly.

It is wonderful the amount of misery to which boys will sometimes subject themselves for the purpose of appearing manly! The Spartan youth of old, who allowed the fox concealed under his cloak to tear out his bowels rather than confess that he had stolen it, is only a faint type of what boys have endured, and will endure, for the sake of appearing manly. There was a time when I myself was smitten with this mania. It was the fashion in my early days to wear stocks, tight trousers, and straps. My dear mother wisely (unreasonably, as I thought at the time) refused to let me have a stock, so I made a very stiff and unnaturally tall one of paper, and put it inside my necktie. It sawed my miserable jaws, but I cared not for that! In order to prevent my shirt-collar from falling over ("stick-ups" were then in vogue), I held my head always with the nose straight to the front. Of course my neck grew stiff, and I became exceedingly uncomfortable; but what matter? I fancied that I looked like a man! So, too, in regard to trousers and straps. No one can imagine the trouble I gave my unfortunate tailor in regard to my unmentionables. His obstinacy puzzled me at the time, but I have since come to understand that I was so miserably thin that it was impossible for him to make them tight enough for me!

And so it was with smoking. Men smoked; I wanted to look like a man, therefore I must smoke! Such was my illogical conclusion. Such is too much the mode of reasoning among boys in all ages; it is from this that I wish to deliver them. Men smoke, it is true, but that does not make the act manly. Men steal, men run away from battle, yet no one deems theft or cowardice manly. Men smoke, so do the

chimneys! If a man were to smoke until, to use a slang expression, he were black in the face, the accumulated volume of his fumigations would not equal one solitary puff of a gas-work chimney. When a man smokes his pipe he looks manly, not because he smokes, but, because he is a man. When a boy smokes his pipe he looks simply contemptible to every one except himself, and, perhaps, to his fond mother! Many boys are led into this habit from the mere force of example, and without giving much thought to the matter; but I am persuaded that many more become smokers because they think the thing looks manly. I repeat, that this is an egregious mistake.

Manliness is a first-rate quality it is much to be desired. Many boys possess it. It consists in that truthfulness, decision combined with modesty, energy of purpose, vigour of mind, promptitude in action, and stern perseverance in duty, which is peculiar to perfect manhood. Manliness, in brief, is being "a lamb in the drawing-room, a lion in the field." Apeing the manners of men is very far removed from it; boastfulness is almost incompatible with it, and, assuredly, smoking has nothing to do with it whatever.

Smoking is hurtful to the health, and this on more grounds than one. The substance used is directly prejudicial to the parts of the body with which it comes into contact, and the act of smoking causes an unnatural flow and loss of saliva. The smoking of tobacco by healthy persons, whether in large or small quantities, is evil, and only evil; there is no good in it at all. Observe, good reader, what I say. If I wrote for ladies, I would not be so particular in calling attention to phrases and the meaning of words; but I write for our embryo philosophers and statesmen. I do not assert that smoking cannot under any circumstances be beneficial.. I believe, on the contrary, that it may do good as a medicine in some cases. But to any one in health, the act of smoking, no matter how slight, can only produce evil. If a boy takes a few whiffs the evil will be so slight as to be imperceptible, and will leave no bad effects behind worth speaking of; but if he should go beyond this and smoke a cigar out, the results will be sufficiently plain. If you doubt it, reader, try! This remark brings vividly before me an incident in my own early life. One bright winter morning I went by appointment to the house of a medical student, to accompany him to the ice for a day's skating. I was a little boy at the time; my friend was a man, or nearly so. I whistled along in the bright sunshine, swinging my skates about, striking fire from the pavement with my heels, shouting joyously ever and anon, and making myself outrageously noisy-as boys delight to do, and no blame to them!

Arrived at my friend's house, I found several other young medicos with him—each being nearly a man. To me they were more than men -they were heroes! These youths were great smokers. They dealt not in cigars, except on light and trivial occasions, when they dallied with time, or happened to feel rather "seedy."-Cavendish and negro-head suited them best, and all their pipes were black.

They offered me a pipe; I declined in an off-hand way, and said, “I'd prefer a weed." I felt uncommonly manly when I said this, what I looked is best known to those who saw me. A cigar was produced and I ventured to smoke it out. When the hour arrived for setting out on the skating expedition, to which I had looked forward with inexpressible delight, I begged for a glass of water; then I seized my skates and cried, "Now, then, let's away!" at the same time smiling languidly; then one of the medicos observed that "The little fellow seemed whitish about the gills;" then I suddenly lay flat down on the floor! and then-but why finish the horrible picture? It is sufficient to say that I lay on that floor the whole of that lovely winter day and groaned !

I had taken as much as I dared of a poisonous substance, but youth and health soon restored me. By continuing daily to repeat this dose in smaller quantities I might easily have come to blacken pipes and affect cavendish as bravely as did these medicos; but I am thankful to say I was preserved from this unmanly and insane course.

Besides exhausting the saliva-which is absolutely needful to healthy digestion,-smoking blackens the teeth and taints the breath. Now, consider this. Bad digestion is an evil with which boys are, happily, not much acquainted. As a general rule boys can devour almost any eatable with impunity. Why so? Just because they are sent into the world in a healthy state, and it takes many years to destroy the internal machinery of the human species. But when boys become men they very soon come to know the meaning of the word dyspepsia; and, if they happen to lead sedentary lives, they too often become martyrs to indigestion. Has smoking nothing to do with this? "No," replies the man who is resolved to smoke, "it is the sedentary life I lead that does it— not smoking."

Thus, youthful reader, does full-grown man deceive himself; but you, being as yet unprejudiced, will at once perceive that the removal of that which is necessary to digestion (namely, saliva), must of necessity hurt digestion; or (supposing that you don't spit), the injecting of a poisonous substance into the healthy system must needs do it harm. There can be no doubt whatever that smoking is hurtful-slightly so, if taken in moderation; severely so, if indulged to excess. In regard