A SALT BREEZE. 



WHEN one first catches the smell of the sea, his 

 lungs seem involuntarily to expand, the same as they 

 do when he steps into the open air after long confine- 

 ment indoors. On the beach he is simply emerging 

 into a larger and more primitive out-of-doors. There 

 before him is aboriginal space, and the breath of it 

 thrills and dilates his body. He stands at the open 

 door of the continent and eagerly drinks the large air. 

 This breeze savors of the original element; it is a 

 breath out of the morning of the world, bitter, but 

 so fresh and tonic ! He has taken salt grossly and at 

 second-hand all his days ; now let him inhale it at the 

 fountain-head, and let its impalpable crystals penetrate 

 his spirit, and prick and chafe him into new activity. 



We Americans are great eaters of salt, probably 

 the largest eaters of salt and drinkers of water of any 

 of the civilized peoples ; the amount of the former 

 consumed annually per capita being more than double 

 the amount consumed in England and on the Conti- 

 nent ; and the quantity of water (with ice in it) we 

 drink is in still greater proportions* Our dry climate 

 calls for the water, and probably our nervous, dys- 

 peptic tendencies for the salt. Hence our need, as a 

 people, of that great tonic and sedative, the seashore. 



