to view. This is most probably the mode in which contraction is effected during life; and in persistent muscular efforts it is believed that the different portions of the muscle alternately relax and contract again, and that all the fibres are not active together. The contraction of muscle is attended with a slight rustling sound, which may be heard by moving the ball of the thumb vigorously, close to the ear. In contracting, a muscle is not merely shortened; it undergoes a change which modifies its entire structure, and will bear a very much greater strain without rupture than in its uncontracted state.

Fig 5.

Fig. 6.

Muscular fibre partly contracted, partly uncontracted. The increase in thickness, and approximation of the strie, mark the state of contraction.

Striated muscular fibres contracting from irritation while under the microscope. The contraction is seen travelling in waves in the direction of the length of the muscle, and affecting chiefly its upper side.

The causes which determine contraction in a muscle are those which induce its decomposition. When placed beneath the microscope, it is seen to contract first at any spot where it has been broken or otherwise subjected to injury. The slightest mechanical irritation induces a local contraction, as does also the contact of air or water. In cases of lingering disease, in which the proneness to decay is increased, contraction of the muscles takes place with increased facility, and may often be excited by a touch. And the stimuli which, in health, induce muscular action most powerfully, are those which most strongly evoke their tendency to change of composition. Electricity, which ranks next to the nervous force as the exciter of muscular action, stands first among the physical forces as a promoter of chemical change, and is known to induce the speedier decomposition of muscles to which it is freely applied.

But we must, perforce, omit many topics, and hasten to notice one objection to the view that has been propounded, which should not be passed over, as it has probably weighed much with some minds. Certain stimulating substances, as alcohol, coffee, or tea, have been found to increase the activity, while they diminish, rather than increase, the waste of the body. This question can be properly discussed only after the subject of nutrition has been passed in review; but it may be observed that there are other processes of decomposition going on in the body, besides those on which functional activity depends. It may be that these stimulants diminish oxidation, which precedes, more or less completely, the elimination of the waste products from the body; but there is no sufficient reason to believe that function directly depends on oxidation. Or it may be, though this is not probable, that these bodies contain more force in a less amount of substance than ordinary food. Of one thing we may be confident, that no articles of diet will give us the means of creating force, or

of exerting power except at the expense of the power that is embodied in our food, and so is stored up within.

And now to what end is this discussion? What advantage is gained by adopting this view of the vital functions? First, a great simplification in our idea of the living body. In respect to one of its chief characteristics, the vital organism ceases to be contrasted with the rest of nature, and becomes to us an example of universal and familiar laws. One form of force acting as a resistance to another, and so accumulating a store of power, which operates on a structure adapted to direct it to given ends;—this is the plan on which the animal creation is constructed. It is the same plan that we adopt when we seek to store up force, and direct it for our own purposes. We imitate herein the Creator; humbly indeed, and with an infinite inferiority of wisdom and of power. But the principle is the same.

And some otherwise mysterious "properties" of living organs lose their mystery. The "contractility" of muscular fibre, and the "sensibility" of the nerves and brain, are seen to be, not mere inexplicable endowments, but names applied to the effect of their known tendency to undergo chemical change. Given the tendency to decompose, and the anatomical structure of the parts, and there must be a power to contract in muscle, and to originate the nervous force in brain.

And when, in this light, we consider the vital force, it presents no more the same unapproachable aspect. We exonerate it from one part of the task that has been assigned to it. The vital force is not the agent in the functions; they are effects of the chemical force which the vital force has been employed in opposing. And this is the office and nature of the vital force—to oppose and hold suspended the chemical affinities within the body, that by their operation power may be exerted, and the functions be performed. When we ask, therefore, What is the vital force? we inquire for that force whence it is derived, and how it operates-which in the organic world opposes chemical affinity. Reverting to the illustration of the watch, we have seen the functions to arise from the unbending of the spring; in the vital force we seek the agency that bends it.

This is a future task. But before we leave the subject that has occupied us now, let us take one glance at another analogy which it suggests. The actions of the body result from one form of force resisting the operation of another; are not the revolutions of the planets regulated by the same law? Motion opposing gravity—these are the forces which (in equilibrium perpetually destroyed and perpetually renewed) determine the sweep of the orbs about the sun. Nor does observation reveal to us, nor can thought suggest, any limit to the mutual action of these kindred, but balanced powers. Life sets its stamp upon the universe; in Nature the loftiest claims kindred with the lowest; and the bond which ties all in one Brotherhood, proclaims one Author.

Men of Genius.

SILENT, the Lord of the world
Eyes from the heavenly height,
Girt by his far-shining train,
Us, who with banners unfurl'd
Fight life's many-chanc'd fight
Madly below, in the plain.

Then saith the Lord to his own:"See ye the battle below?

Turmoil of death and of birth!

Too long let we them groan.

Haste, arise ye, and go;

Carry my peace upon earth."

Gladly they rise at his call;
Gladly they take his command;
Gladly descend to the plain.
Alas! How few of them all-
Those willing servants-shall stand
In their Master's presence again!

Some in the tumult are lost:
Baffled, bewilder'd, they stray.

Some as prisoners draw breath.

Others the bravest-are cross'd,

On the height of their bold-follow'd way,
By the swift-rushing missile of Death.

Hardly, hardly shall one

Come, with countenance bright,

O'er the cloud-wrapt, perilous plain:

His Master's errand well done,

Safe through the smoke of the fight,
Back to his Master again.

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

Framley Parsonage.

CHAPTER XIX.

MONEY DEALINGS.

MR. SOWERBY, in his resolution to obtain this good gift for the Vicar of Framley, did not depend quite alone on the influence of his near connection with the Lord Petty Bag. He felt the occasion to be one on which he might endeavour to move even higher powers than that, and therefore he had opened the matter to the duke-not by direct application, but through Mr. Fothergill. No man who understood matters ever thought of going direct to the duke in such an affair as that. If one wanted to speak about a woman or a horse or a picture the duke could, on occasions, be affable enough.

But through Mr. Fothergill the duke was approached. It was represented, with some cunning, that this buying over of the Framley clergyman from the Lufton side would be a praiseworthy spoiling of the Amalekites. The doing so would give the Omnium interest a hold even in the cathedral close. And then it was known to all men that Mr. Robarts had considerable influence over Lord Lufton himself. So guided, the Duke of Omnium did say two words to the Prime Minister, and two words from the duke went a great way, even with Lord Brock. The upshot of all this was, that Mark Robarts did get the stall; but he did not hear the tidings of his success till some days after his return to Framley.

Mr. Sowerby did not forget to tell him of the great effort-the unusual effort, as he of Chaldicotes called it-which the duke had made on the subject. "I don't know when he has done such a thing before," said Sowerby; "and you may be quite sure of this, he would not have done it now, had you not gone to Gatherum Castle when he asked you: indeed, Fothergill would have known that it was vain to attempt it. And I'll tell you what, Mark-it does not do for me to make little of my own nest, but I truly believe the duke's word will be more efficacious than the Lord Petty Bag's solemn adjuration.”

Mark, of course, expressed his gratitude in proper terms, and did buy the horse for a hundred and thirty pounds. "He's as well worth it," said Sowerby, "as any animal that ever stood on four legs; and my only reason for pressing him on you is, that when Tozer's day does come round, I know you will have to stand to us to something about that tune." It did not occur to Mark to ask him why the horse should not be sold to some one else, and the money forthcoming in the regular way, But this would not have suited Mr. Sowerby.

Mark knew that the beast was good, and as he walked to his lodgings was half proud of his new possession. But then, how would he justify it to his wife, or how introduce the animal into his stables without attempt

ing any justification in the matter? And yet, looking to the absolute amount of his income, surely he might feel himself entitled to buy a new horse when it suited him. He wondered what Mr. Crawley would say when he heard of the new purchase. He had lately fallen into a state of much wondering as to what his friends and neighbours would say about him.

He had now been two days in town, and was to go down after breakfast on the following morning so that he might reach home by Friday afternoon. But on that evening, just as he was going to bed, he was surprised by Lord Lufton coming into the coffee-room at his hotel. He walked in with a hurried step, his face was red, and it was clear that he was very angry.

"Robarts," said he, walking up to his friend and taking the hand. that was extended to him, "do you know anything about this man, Tozer ?"

"Tozer-what Tozer ?

man."

I have heard Sowerby speak of such a

"Of course you have. If I do not mistake you have written to me about him yourself."

"Very probably. I remember Sowerby mentioning the man with reference to your affairs. But why do you ask me?"

"This man has not only written to me, but has absolutely forced his way into my rooms when I was dressing for dinner; and absolutely had the impudence to tell me that if I did not honour some bill which he holds for eight hundred pounds he would proceed against me."

"But you settled all that matter with Sowerby?"

"I did settle it at a very great cost to me. Sooner than have a fuss I paid him through the nose-like a fool that I was-everything that he claimed. This is an absolute swindle, and if it goes on I will expose it as such."

Robarts looked round the room, but luckily there was not a soul in it but themselves. "You do not mean to say that Sowerby is swindling you?" said the clergyman.

"It looks very like it," said Lord Lufton; "and I tell you fairly that I am not in a humour to endure any more of this sort of thing. Some years ago I made an ass of myself through that man's fault. But four thousand pounds should have covered the whole of what I really lost. I have now paid more than three times that sum; and, by heavens! I will not pay more without exposing the whole affair."

"But, Lufton, I do not understand. What is this bill?—has it your name to it?"

"Yes, it has: I'll not deny my name, and if there be absolute need I will pay it; but if I do so, my lawyer shall sift it, and it shall go before a jury."

"But I thought all those bills were paid?"

"I left it to Sowerby to get up the old bills when they were renewed,