No human wealth is worthy to be won
That sums mean hours of flattery or guile.
Repayment for the labour we have done—
Does this demand the sycophantish smile?
Measure and watch thy words, more than the pile
Of perishable gold they may beget.
Take care of thy soul's deeds, and wait awhile;
Although they may not suit the law courts yet,
When the last bill falls due, they are to meet the debt.

Arrested by the tearless bailiff, Time,
Locked in the debtor's prison of the grave,
Upbraided with a balance-sheet of crime,
The terrors of the Judgment who can brave?
Of talents lent and squandered, he who gave
No heed to his soul's work, yields no account,
Bankrupt hereafter. Bitter flows the wave
Of water that was bitter at the fount;
And he who crawls through life, through death
will never mount.

Yet worthy produce of our upright toil,
Is wealth well earned with honourable pain;
Hands that are clean, from gold receive no soil—
There needs a mordant to complete a stain.
Men seek the rich: is he then rich in vain,
Whose goodness makes him worthy to be sought?
Wealth to the good to all the world is gain.
So count we not this life's rewards as nought,
But work for them like men, and use them as we
ought.

SLEEP.

OUR health and happiness depend very
much on the way in which we regulate our
lives. Strange, as it may appear, there is a
discipline which should be observed in our
sleeping, as well as in our waking hours.
But after all, what is sleep? " It is so like
death," said Sir Thomas Browne, " that I
cannot trust myself to it without my prayers."
Our medical philosophers puzzle themselves
in vain to account for it; and move about in
a circle of truisms, reminding us of the kitten
described by Goethe, everlastingly playing
with its own tail. There is no better description
given of the approach of sleep than
that which we find in one of Leigh Hunt's
papers in the " Indicator."

"It is a delicious moment certainly, that of
being well nestled in bed, and feeling that
you shall drop gently to sleep. The good is
to come—not past; the limbs have been just
tired enough to render the remaining in one
posture delightful: the labour of the day is
done. A gentle failure of the perceptions
comes creeping over one; the spirit of consciousness
disengages itself more and more with
slow and hushing degrees, like a mother
detaching her hand from that of her sleeping
child; the mind seems to have a balmy
lid closing over it, like the eye;—'tis closing
—'tis more closing—'tis closed. The mysterious
spirit has gone to take its airy rounds."
But what is the immediate cause of sleep?
—Let us explain.

There can be no doubt that a certain
amount of nervous energy is necessary to
support the activity of the body; and when
this is exhausted by the exertions of the day,
the organs of animal life become fatigued,
and unable any longer to perform their
functions. Hence their prostration, arising from
the want of their usual nervous stimulus,
superinduces a state of sleep. The perception
of external objects becomes confused; the
eyes grow dim; the lids drop, in spite of
every effort to uphold them; then the muscles
of the back and neck relax their tension; the
head falls forwards, or to one side or the
other, and the body sinks, as far as circumstances
will permit, into a horizontal position.
But the sense of hearing remains for a period
after that of sight; so that we may hear the
conversation of persons around us, long after
we are able to perceive their gestures, and
discriminate the object of their remarks. In
this half-waking, half-sleeping condition,
which the French call " demi-sommeil," we
may remain, as in a pleasing reverie, for some
time, until sleep absorbs the last glimmering
of consciousness. Now, if this state arise, as
we believe it does, from a deficiency or
exhaustion of nervous energy, the more
perfectly developed we shall find the nervous
system, the greater will be the amount of
sleep required to recruit the animal strength.
Let us take a glance through the different
gradations of the Animal Kingdom.

If we begin with Insects we shall find that
although many, like the common housefly,
remain for months in a state of torpidity, yet
they may continue wakeful and cheerful
throughout the year—in fact, they scarcely
sleep at all. We shall next observe that in
fishes the nervous system is only imperfectly
developed, therefore they require little sleep,
and when asleep, they may be observed
motionless in the water, with the exception of
a gentle movement of the tail, in which state
they may be easily netted, or even taken with
the hand; but, if suddenly touched, they
start in an instant, and swim away in evident
alarm. The Serpent tribes, which rank
somewhat higher in the scale of organisation,
remain awake many days and nights, and
then have long periods of repose. The Boa
Constrictor, after gorging itself to repletion,
will remain for many days or weeks motion-
less and insensible. But this should be re-
garded as a state of lethargy, consequent upon
over distension, rather than one of natural
repose.

As we proceed higher in gradation, we
shall find that birds sleep much more than
fish or reptiles; but the slightest noise or
movement will awaken them, as was evinced
by the cackling of the sacred geese which
saved the Capitol of Rome from the soldiers
of Brennus, when the watchdogs and sentries
were sleeping at their posts. When we
arrive at the different orders of quadrupeds,
the brain and spinal marrow appear more
fully developed; and the consequence is, that
in obedience to their instincts, those which
are active by day, sleep by night, and those