98 



A HISTORY OF 



will remain untouched, and unconsumed. 

 Wood also set on fire, immediately goes out, 

 and its flame ceases, upon removing the air ; 

 for something is then wanting to press the 

 body of the fire against that of the fuel, and 

 to prevent the too speedy diffusion of the 

 flame. We frequently see cooks, and others, 

 whose business it is to keep up strong fires, 

 take proper precautions to exclude the beams 

 of the sun from shining upon them, which 

 effectually puts them out. This they are apt 

 to ascribe to a wrong cause; namely, the 

 operation of the light ; but the real fact is, 

 that the warmth of the sun-beams lessens and 

 dissipates the body of the air that goes to feed 

 the flame ; and the fire, of consequence, lan- 

 guishes for want of a necessary supply. 



The air, while it thus kindles fire into 

 flame, is notwithstanding found to moderate 

 the rays of light, to dissipate their violence, 

 and to spread an uniform lustre over every 

 object. Were the beams of the sun to dart 

 directly upon us, without passing through 

 this protecting medium, they would either 

 burn us up at once, or blind us with their 

 effulgence. But by going through the air, 

 they are reflected, refracted, and turned from 

 their direct course, a thousand different ways; 

 and thus are more evenly diffused over the 

 face of nature. 



Among the other necessary benefits the 

 air is of to us, one of the principal is its con- 

 veyance of sound. Even the vibrations of a 

 bell, which have the loudest effect that we 

 know of, cease to be heard, when under the 

 receiver of an air-pump. Thus all the plea- 

 sures we receive from conversation with each 

 other, or from music, depend entirely upon 

 the air. 



Odours likewise are diffused only by the 

 means of air; without this fluid to swim in, 

 they would for ever remain torpid in their 



respective substances; and the rose would 

 affect us with as little sensations of pleasure, 

 as the thorn on which it grew. 



Those who are willing to augment the 

 catalogue of the benefits we receive from 

 this element, assert also, that tastes them- 

 selves would be insipid, were it not that the 

 air presses their parts upon the nerves of the 

 tongue and palate, so as to produce their 

 grateful effects. Thus, continue they, upon 

 the tops of high mountains, as on the Peak 

 of Teneriffe, the most poignant bodies, as 

 pepper, ginger, salt, and spice, have no sen- 

 sible taste, for want of their particles being 

 thus sent home to the sensory. But we owe 

 the air sufficient obligations, not to be stu- 

 dious of admitting this among the number : in 

 fact, all substances have their taste, as well*' 

 on the tops of mountains, as in the bottom of 

 the valley ; and I have been one of many, who 

 have ate a very savoury dinner on the Alps. 



It is sufficient, therefore, that we regard 

 the air as the parent of health and vegetation ; 

 as a kind dispenser of light and warmth ; and 

 as the conveyer of sounds and odours. This 

 is an element of which avarice will not de- 

 prive us; and which power cannot monopo- 

 lize. The treasures of the earth, the verdure 

 of the fields, and even the refreshments of the 

 stream, are too often seen going only to assist 

 the luxuries of the great ; while the less for- 

 tunate part of mankind stand humble spec- 

 tators of their encroachments. But the air 

 no limitations can bound, nor any land-marks 

 restrain. In this benign element, all mankind 

 can boast an equal possession ; and for this 

 we all have equal obligations to Heaven. 

 We consume a part of it, for our own sus- 

 tenance, while we live; and, when we die, our 

 putrefyingbodies give back the supply, which, 

 during life, we had accumulated from the ge- 

 neral mass. 



