stability to the mind; the rhythm of the mental forces is interrupted; a crash is always impending, and too often sudden collapse occurs. The point to be made clear is this; over-work is barely possible, and seldom, if ever, happens, while the mind is acting in the way prescribed by its constitution, and in the normal modes of mental exercise. The moment, however, the natural rhythm of work is broken and discord ensues, the mind is like an engine with the safety-valve locked, the steam-gauge falsified, the governing apparatus out of gear; a breakdown may occur at any instant. The state pictured is one of worry, and the besetting peril is not depicted in too lurid colours. The victim of worry is ever on the verge of a catastrophe ; if he escape, the marvel is not at his strength of intellect so much as his good fortune. Worry is disorder, however induced, and disorderly work is abhorred by the laws of nature, which leave it wholly without remedy. The energy employed in industry carried on under this condition is lavished in producing a small result, and speedily exhausted. The reserve comes into play very early in the task, and the faculty of recuperation is speedily arrested. Sometimes loss of appetite announces the cessation of nutrition; otherwise the sense of hunger, present in the system, is for a time preternaturally acute, and marks the fact that the demand is occasioned by loss of power to appropriate, instead of any diminution of supply. The effort to work becomes daily more laborious, the task of fixing the attention grows increasingly difficult, thoughts wander, memory fails, the reasoning power is enfeebled; prejudice-the shade of defunct emotion or some past persuasiontakes the place of judgment; physical nerve or brain disturbance may supervene, and the crash will then come suddenly, unexpected by on-lookers, perhaps unperceived by the sufferer himself. This is the history of worry,' or disorder produced by mental disquietude and distraction, occasionally by physical disease.

The first practical inference to be deduced from these considerations is that brain-work in the midst of mental worry is carried on in the face of ceaseless peril. Unfortunately work and worry are so closely connected in daily experience that they cannot be wholly separated. Meanwhile the worry of work—that which grows out of the business in hand-is generally a needless, though not always an avoidable evil.

In a large proportion of instances this description of disorder is due to the lack of education in brain-work. Men and women, with minds capacious and powerful enough but untrained, attempt feats for which training is indispensable, and, being unprepared, they fail. The utilitarian policy of the age is gradually eliminating from the educationary system many of the special processes by which minds used to be developed. This is, in part at least, why cases of sudden collapse are more numerous now than in years gone by. It is not, as vanity suggests, that the brain-work of to-day is so much greater than that exacted from our predecessors, but we are


less well prepared for its performance. The treatment of this form of affection, the break-down from the worry of work, must be preventive; the sole remedy is the reversal of a policy which substitutes results for processes, knowledge for education. It is a serious cause of discomfiture and sorrow in work that so much of the brain-power expended is necessarily devoted to the removal of extraneous causes of worry. Labour is so fatal to life, because it is so difficult to live. The deadly peril of work in the midst of worry must be confronted, because the disturbing cause can only be got rid of by persistent labour. This is the crux of the difficulty, and in the attempt to cure the evil the struggling mind finds its fate involved in a vicious circle of morbid reactions. Nevertheless, it is the fact that work in the teeth of worry is fraught with peril, and whenever it can be avoided it should be, let the sacrifice cost what it may.

The second deduction must be, that there is no excuse for idleness in the pretence of fear of over-work. There is some reason to apprehend that the attention recently directed to this alleged cause of mental unsoundness has not been free from a mischievous influence on minds only too ready to take refuge in any excuse for inactivity. If the private asylums of the country were searched for the victims of "over-work,' they would nearly all be found to have fallen a prey to

worry, or to that degeneracy which results from lack of purpose life and steady employment. This is a grave assertion, but it points to an evil it is especially needful to expose. Weak minds drift into dementia with wondrous celerity when they are not carried forward to some goal, it matters little what, by the impulse of a strong motive. The bugbear of over-work’ is, it may be feared, deterring parents and friends from enforcing the need of sedulous industry on the young. The pernicious system of cram’ slays its thousands, because uneducated, undeveloped, inelastic intellects are burdened and strained with information adroitly deposited in the memory, as an expert valet packs a portmanteau, with the articles likely to be first wanted on the top. Desultory occupation, mere play with objects of which the true interest is not appreciated, ruins a still larger number; while worry, that bane of brain-work and mental energy, counts its victims by tens of thousands, a holocaust of minds sacrificed to the demon of discord, the foe of happiness, of morality, of success. The enemy takes many shapes and assumes bewildering disguises. Sometimes he comes in like a flood, hurrying everything before him; with heaps of work to be done in less than adequate time. Now the victim is hurried from task to task with a celerity fatal to sanity. Then he is chained like a galley-slave to some uncongenial labour without respite. Again, a buzz of distracting and irritating mental annoyances seem let loose to distress and distract him. Under each and all of these guises it is worry that molests, and, unless he be rescued, will ruin him. Meanwhile, the miseries of over-work,' pure and simple, are few and comparatively insignificant. Those who bewail their infliction most loudly are weak of mind or torpid of brain. Of such lame and maimed mortals we are not now thinking. Their lot may be humiliating or pitiable, as their condition is due to neglect or misfortune; but our concern is with the multitude of strong and able-minded workers who fail at their task. These are the victims not of over-work but of worry, a foe more treacherous and merciless than all besides. The mind-cure for the malady to which worry' gives rise, and from which so many suffer, is not idleness, or rest,' in the ordinary sense of that term, but orderly and persistent work. The work by which they have been injured has not been excessive, but bad of its kind and badly done. The palsied faculties must be strengthened and incited to healthy nutrition by new activity, at first, perhaps, administered in the form of passive mental movement, and then induced by appropriate stimuli applied to the mind.

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VOL.X.-No. 55.





Is there one man or woman who repents of the repeal of the Cornlaws ?-any one who has not seen, many times over, that, unless those laws had been repealed as and when they were, semi-starvation and total revolution might have come upon us at almost any harvest-time these five-and-thirty years? That first great step in Free Trade has prevented evils which it is in no one mind's power to conceive of, much less to reckon up. But it neither prevented nor has cured all the evils that flesh is heir to; and who was so sanguine or so lunatic as to expect that it would? There have been money panics, there has been distress, or depression of trade, with other evils and fluctuations inevitably incident to a country and a people like

But there has been no famine of bread, nor anything approaching to it, as there had been, over and over again, before Richard Cobden and John Bright were called to the task of taking off a.damnable protection from the selfish and greedy corn-farmers, and providing a permanent supply of bread at rational prices for a hungerbitten nation.

This was the immediate effect of the wonderful labours of those pre-eminent men; but it should have been as surely the forerunner of a great number of beneficial consequences flowing from the same principle, and its establishment as a rule of policy and legislation. Of some of these we have had, as it were, a taste, though not the full enjoyment which we were entitled to expect and to realise. Not only was bread made more abundant in quantity, better in quality, more constant in supply, and, at the same time, cheaper ; but the accompanying result was to multiply productive employment at improved wages, and with fewer breaks from incidental causes. It was only too natural, perhaps, that gains so great and palpable as these should make us thankful to contentment; and this was the case, causing us to forget for a time the old maxim which teaches men to regard nothing as done so long as anything remains to be done. ' In time, however, we bave come to see that the monster, sometimes called Monopoly and sometimes Protection, has more heads than one, if not as many as the ancient fable-mongers gave to their hundred-headed serpent. One of those heads was cut off when we induced Parliament to do away with restrictions upon the

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importation of foreign-grown corn; but, whilst all the rest remained hissing in our teeth, it would have been a mere imagination to suppose that we had secured Free Trade. That biss, from all the remaining heads of the beast at once, has been loudly and threateningly raised, and we shall have reason to be very grateful for the horrid noise, provided only that it disturbs us in our foolish dream and wakes us out of our sluggardly sleep.

In nothing does this new noise more nearly resemble that old serpent the Devil, to which Eve attributed one head, but to which the Greek mythologists and their Roman dupes gave a hundred, than in the wily plausibility with which it changes its tone, and, Protection being too deliberately diabolical, seductively substitutes the beguiling cry of Reciprocity. Now, what, in the name of Johnson, is reciprocity? Well, it is a word, as my learned friend tells me, born in old Rome, but not until the legitimacy of original Latin words had been a good deal bastardised. No responsible Latin writer is cited indictionaries as sponsor for any such expression, yet it may be found in two forms in

, those vocabularies, the older meaning being that returns by the same way,' if there be any clear meaning in that; and the newer, a verb, . to bring back by the same way, to fetch back, or, figuratively, “to retreat backwards.' This, by the way, is rather ominous; bring back, fetch back, and backwards, look very much as if by the institution of Reciprocity were really intended the restitution of Protection. The Italians, however, who, being lineal descendants of the Latins, ought to know, give the signification of interchangeable to that which they and their ancestors styled reciprocal ; and, without question, whether in more modern French or English, the word now revived as а a backward' cry in political party really means to make a return in

• kind or in value; in short, mutual dealing. The proposal, it must be admitted, is sweetly seductive on the face of it.

But we old birds are not to be caught with chaff; we must beware lest our feet stick fast through alighting upon a good-looking twig limed with · Reciprocity. Admitted, as facts not to be denied, that trade is dull as ditch-water; agriculture, pending harvest, in some uncertainty; and that, as a consequence of such untowardness, there is more idle labour than remunerative employment. Granted, further, that certain foreign markets are shut against our products by charges upon imports tending to direct prohibition. What then? No sooner is the question put than, chameleon-like, Reciprocity changes colour, and becomes Retaliation. We are urged to exclude those who exclude us, and are promised, as the sure if not the instant result, that trade would revive, profits and wages flourish in equal proportions, prosperity reign in field and factory, and a national millennium forthwith ensue. Now, as we have said and seen, both farmer and manufacturer

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