a very impure air, or azote, at night, or in the shade: third, that not all parts of plants, but only the green stalks of leaves, produce this beneficial effect: fourth, that the disengagement of pure or vital air does not commence until the sun has been some time above the horizon, that it ceases altogether with the termination of day light; and that the disadvantage arising from the impure exhalations of plants, during the night, is far exceeded by the great advantage they afford during the day; insomuch, that the impure air generated by a plant during the whole night, scarcely amounts to a hundredth part of the pure vital air, or oxygen, exhaled from the same plant in two hours of a serene day. Thus, the atmosphere is constantly preserved in that state of purity, which is the most salutary both to animals and vegetables.

As the vegetable kingdom is renewed in spring, and as vegetation in general is most lively in that season, there can be little doubt, that the pure vital air is then most copiously evolved by means of the light and heat of the sun. Hence it follows that the air of spring is more wholesome than that of autumn, which is saturated with impure particles. The cold, however, and the frequent winds which prevail at a more advanced period, prove extremely efficacious in counteracting the baneful effects of corruption and putrefaction.

All strongly scented bodies are more or less pernicious; not only those of a fœtid, but even those of a fragrant smell. The latter, if too strong, are particularly dangerous, as a sense of disgust does not naturally incline us to avoid them. Hence people who carry large nosegays in the hot days of summer, or sleep in rooms decorated with flowers, are apt to feel themselves affected with head-achs, vertigoes, fainting fits, and even apoplexies, have been produced in persons of a plethoric habit.

The smell of roses, how pleasing soever to most persons, is not only odious, but alomst deadly to others.

Warm Air relaxes the body, and occasions a quicker circulation of the fluids: hence the tender and infirm suffer severely in hot weather; hence arise hysteric and hypocondriaic complaints, convulsions, and diarrhoeas.

Cold renders bodies more compact, the appetite stronger, and digestion easier and quicker. On the contrary, the resistance of the fluid parts becomes so great, that even the increased powers of the solids cannot overcome it, if the cold be too violent. In winter the blood is much disposed to inflammations; hence stitches in the side, inflammatory sore throats, rheumatism, &c. In persons who take little exercise, the fluids are apt to stagnate, and the solids to chill during the winter. Upon the whole, how ́ever, the effects of cold weather may be rendered less hurtful, and even salutary to the body, if proper exercise be not neglected.

Damp or Moist Air suddenly relaxes and debilitates, retarding the circulation, checking the perspiration, and depressing the spirits. If damp air be accompanied with cold, it tends, by obstructing the perspiration, to throw the retained humours on the breast, throat, stomach, bowels, &c. occasioning sore throats, pleurisies, sick stomach, diarrhoeas, &c. If damp air be accompanied with heat, it is still worse, by opening the pores, through which the moisture penetrates in the body, and predisposes every part of it to putrefaction and dissolution. This accounts for the great mortality prevalent during the hot season at Batavia, and some of the West India islands.

Dry and Cool Air, from its elasticity, promotes, in an extraordinary manner, the serenity and alertness of mind and body; and is, therefore, most agreeable and salubrious, both to the healthy and infirm.

Too sudden a transition from warm to cold air, or the reverse, is pernicious. But none have ever complained on leaving, however suddenly, the sickly air of the town, for the dry, pure, temperate air of the country. After all, the surest sign of good air in any place, is the longevity of its inhabitants.

The most certain marks, by which to distinguish whether the. air in rooms be damp or not, are the following: The walls or tapestry change their colour; bread acquires a mouldy surface; sponges in the rooms retain their moisture; loaf-sugar turns soft; iron rusts; brass and copper acquire a green colour, and wooden furniture moulders and crumbles to pieces.

In cities the sitting rooms ought, if possible, to be above the ground floor, or on the second story, well ventilated by convenient doors and windows. And as to the bed-rooms, they ought assuredly to be in the most elevated stories of the house, that they may be as far removed as possible from that mass of azote, or deadly air which is so copiously generated in large towns, and which naturally settles near the ground.

Dr. Caldwell, lecturing on this subject, states that it was on this principle he was induced, contrary to the remonstrances of his family and friends, to keep his son in the third story of his house, during a very sickly season in Philadelphia, and adds that he could not avoid being sensibly struck with its happy effects in preserving his health. And I am convinced the excellent health my family enjoyed, during eight or nine years' residence in Savannah, was greatly owing to sleeping in large well aired chambers, three stories from the ground.

The airing of apartments should not be neglected, even in winter, as fires alone are not sufficient to carry off the corrupted air. If possible, we should not sit through the day in a room in which we have slept; as the bed clothes, and particularly feather beds, very slowly part with the exhalations they have imbibed during the night. It farther deserves to be remarked, that all damp vapours are prejudicial; hence, keeping wet clothes in dwelling rooms should by all means be carefully avoided.

OF FOOD.

For this the watchful appetite was given,
Daily with fresh materials to repair
This unavoidable expense of life,

This necessary waste of flesh and blood.

Hence the concoctive powers, with various art,
Subdue the cruder aliments to chyle;

The chyle to blood: the foamy purple tide
To liquors, which through finer arteries

To different parts their winding course pursue;
To try new changes, and new forms put on,
Or for the public, or some private use.

ARMSTRONG.

NATURE not only points out the food fit for infancy, but kindly prepares it. When the babe, just born into this cold world, is applied to its mother's bosom, it is first agreeably affected by warmth; next it is delighted with the odour of the milk; then gratified by the flavour of it; afterwards the appetites of hunger and of thirst afford pleasure by the possession of their objects, and by the subsequent digestion of the aliment; and lastly, the sense of touch is delighted by the softness and smoothness of the milky fountain, which the innocent embraces with its hands, presses with its lips, and watches with its eyes. Satisfied, it smiles at the enjoyment of such a variety of pleasures. It feels an animal attraction, which is love; a gratification when the object is present, a desire when it is absent, which constitutes the purest source of human felicity, the cordial drop in the otherwise vapid cup of life, overpaying the fond mother for all her solicitudes and cares.

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps,
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
Smiles on her slumb'ring child with pensive eyes,
And weaves a song of melancholy joy.

CAMPBELL.

A mother who abandons the fruit of her womb, as soon as it is born, to the sole care of an hireling, hardly deserves that tender appellation. Nothing can be so preposterous and unnatural, as a

mother abandoning the care of her child. If we search Nature throughout, we cannot find a parallel. Every other animal is the nurse of its own offspring, which thrives accordingly.

Connubial fair! whom no fond transport warms,
To lull your infant in maternal arms;
Who, blest in vain with tumid bosom, hear
His tender wailing with unfeeling ear;
The soothing kiss, and milky rill deny
To the sweet pouting lip, and glist'ning eye
Ah! what avails the cradle's damask roof,
The eider bolster, and embroider'd woof!
Oft hears the gilded coach, unpity'd plains;
And many a tear the tassell'd cushion stains!
No voice so sweet attunes his cares to rest,
So soft no pillow, as his mother's breast!

DARWIN.

It is in infancy and early age, that the foundation is laid for the many diseases arising from indigestion, found in almost every family. If children be fed immoderately, the first passages become too much distended, and the stomach, by degrees, acquires an unnatural craving for food, which must be satisfied, whatever be the consequence. These excessive supplies are not only unnecessary, but produce the most serious and fatal disorders.-There is a certain relation subsisting between what is taken in, and what is lost by the body. If we eat and drink much, we likewise lose much, without gaining any more by it than we might do by moderate meals. Eating too much retards the growth, and eventually diminishes the digestive power of the stomach. Nature is easily satisfied, and is always best provided if we do not obtrude upon her more than she is accustomed to. If we have, for some time taken little nourishment, nature becomes so habituated to it, that we feel indisposed as soon as the usual measure is transgressed; and both the stomach and its digestive powers are thereby impaired.

It would be impossible to lay down fixed rules, whereby to determine the salubrity or insalubrity of aliments, with respect to the individual.

Experience is, indeed, our chief guide upon this subject; for, such is the peculiarity of constitutions, that, the same article.