the circulation, nor loose enough to rub on the wrist joint. If, as is sometimes the case, they cause an irritation of the skin, they should be laid aside altogether.
THE HAND AND FINGERS.
Many a fine lady takes more pride in a beautiful hand than in any other feature of her person. "Good Queen Bess," royal old coquette that she was, is an example in point. At her levees she used to take care to have one of her hands prominently displayed. They were small, white, soft, and well proportioned, so she had a right to be proud of them.
To have such a delicate hand as hers is not in the power of every one. Most of us are under the law of toil, and bear upon us the indelible imprint of our handicrafts. An eminent French surgeon has asserted that by the inspection of this member alone he can tell, nine times out of ten, what is the avocation of the individual. Every trade, every employment—except the tread-mill—calls for some assistance from the hand—that "divine tool," as old Aristotle called it. "The miller's thumb," broad and flattened with testing of the grain between it and the forefinger, is a proverbial expression. The fiddler's left hand, with its flattened and horny finger tips, betrays his trade. Shakspeare, in that touching sonnet which reveals the bitterness with which he saw himself, with all his divine spirit,
