during such circumstances is very often disturbed, and always much less refreshing than when enjoyed in a well-ventilated apartment. It often happens indeed that such repose, instead of being followed by renovated strength and activity, is succeeded by a degree of heaviness and langour which is not overcome till the person has been some time in a purer air. Nor is this the only evil arising from sleeping in ill-ventilated apartments. When it is known that the blood undergoes most important changes in its circulation through the lungs by means of the air we breathe, and that these vital changes can only be effected by the respiration of pure air, it will be easily understood how the healthy functions of the lungs must be impeded by inhaling, for many successive hours, the vitiated air of our bedrooms, and how the health must be as effectually destroyed by respiring impure air, as by living on unwholesome, or innutritious food. In the case of children, or young persons predisposed to consumption, it is of still more urgent consequence that they should breathe pure air by night as well as by day, by securing a continuous renewal of the air in their bedrooms, nurseries, schools, &c. Let a mother, who has been made anxious by the sickly looks of her children, go from pure air into their bedrooms in the morning, before a door or window has been opened, and remark the state of the atmosphere-the close and oppressive odour of the room-and she may cease to wonder at the pale, sickly aspect of her children. Let her pay a similar visit some morning after means have been taken by the chimney ventilator, or otherwise, to secure a full supply, and constant renewal of the air in the bedrooms during the night, and she will be able to account for the more healthy appearance of her children which is sure to be the consequence of supplying them with pure air to breathe. But you know it can be angry, And draw your chairs around, The merry boats of Brixham A staunch and sturdy fleet are they, You may see, when summer evenings fall, The light upon their sails. But when the year grows darker, Then, as the storm grew fiercer, And strong clouds set themselves like ice, And the blackness of the darkness Was something to be felt. The wind, like an assassin, Went on its secret way, And struck a hundred barks adrift To reel about the bay; They meet, they crash-God keep the men! The men on shore were trembling, She took the grandame's blanket, Who shivered and bade them go; They took the baby's pillow, Who could not say them no; And they heaped a great fire on the pier, Or only a funeral pile. And fed with precious food, the flame But when the first prow strikes the pier, Then all along the breadth of flame With, "Child, here comes your father!" So one by one they struggled in, Who were too cold with sorrow And this is what the men must do Who watch for them at home; M. B. Smedley. |