1856. 



NEW ENGLAND FAEMER. 



45 



England, in spite of all sorts of warnings, of all 

 sorts of fatal effects, have practically come to the 

 choice between stoves and furnaces. Leaving all 

 other questions for those who believe that the earth 

 goes backward sometimes, let us discuss for a little 

 space, this question between stoves and furnaces, re- 

 membering always, that we are speaking of houses 

 in the country. Your brick blocks in the city, shel- 

 tered on every side, warmed from cellar to attic day 

 and night, form a distinct class, of which we say 

 nothing now, except that the principles which gov- 

 ern the subjects of heat and ventilation are not lim' 

 ited in their application to the rural districts. 



Two objects are to be kept distinctly in view, 

 heat and fresh air. Perhaps the latter should be 

 put first, for without air, a man will die in about 

 three minutes, while at the lowest temperature 

 known in this latitude, he would Uve much longer 

 than that, exposed naked, before he would freeze to 

 death. 



There is no difficulty in generating heat enough 

 at a cheap rate. An air-tight stove, in an air-tight 

 room will do that, but the difficulty is, nobody can 

 live in such a place, thus heated. A healthy man 

 must have about a pint of air at a breath, and he 

 breathes about a thousand times in an hour, and so 

 he requires about fijly-seven hogsheads of air in 

 twenty-four hours ! And this air, once breathed, is 

 unfit for respiration, mitil chemically changed. The 

 pint of air Avhich passes from the lungs, does not re- 

 main in one lump by itself, in some corner of the 

 room, so that a fresh quantity is taken in at the 

 next breath. A single whif of cigar-smoke will per- 

 vade the whole room in a few moments, and an old 

 pipe zealously worked by some vagabond, will pol- 

 lute the atmosphere of a whole street, as you follow 

 behind him. And so, delicate ladies and gentlemen, 

 so fastidious that they would faint at the idea of 

 di'inking from the glass which another had used, sitj 

 pent up in an unventilated room,and breathe — what ? 

 Really, it is too disagreeable a topic to j^ursue so 

 minutely. 



The air is, as we have seen, polluted — in other 

 words, it is deprived of its oxygen, and receives in 

 return carbonic acid and vapor, by passing through 

 the lungs in breathing. 



This same poisonous carbonic acid is generated 

 also, in large quantities, in the combustion of coal, 

 of all kinds. It is heavier at the same tempera- 

 ture, than common air, and can therefore only as- 

 cend, through the stove-pipe, or chimney, by being 

 heated and so expanded as to become lighter than 

 common air. 



In the air-tight coal stoves, where the combus- 

 tion is very slow, and all the heat is saved, the car- 

 bonic acid is saved also, and instead of going up 

 the chimney, rolls out into the room. It some- 

 times takes the form of carbonic oxide gas, or, as 

 the miners call it, coal gas, which is, when pure, at 



once destructive of human life. Such a fire is like 

 a pan of coal ignited in a room without any escape 

 for the smoke or gas — a very common means of 

 committing suicide. 



A third method by which the air is rendered im- 

 pure and unfit for respiration, is by coming in con- 

 tact with red hot iron. Carbonic acid is generated 

 not only from the iron itself, but from the particles 

 of dust floating in the an-, which are consumed at 

 once by contact with the iron. Iron contains also, 

 usually, traces of sulphur, phosphorus, and some- 

 times arsenic, all of which are given off by the iron 

 at a red heat. 



These three methods of corrupting the air, name- 

 ly, by breathing, by slow combustion of coal, in- 

 cluding the charcoal made in air-tight wood stoves, 

 and by contact with red-hot bon, are always to be 

 kept in mind. The remedies obviously are ventila- 

 tion, or the introduction of fresh air, the use of 

 stoves open, or with sufficient draught to carry ofi" the 

 unhealthy fumes, and the disuse of all stoves and 

 furnaces that require heating to redness. 



I have room only for a few general suggestions 

 as to ventilation. Ventilation implies the introduc- 

 tion of air, and its escape ; for it is obvious that air 

 cannot come into a room, unless a like quantity at 

 the same time escapes, for the room is at all times 

 full. All stoves that have a fi'ee draught constant- 

 ly carry air out of the room through their smoke 

 pipes. 



If your room were perfectly tight, the fire must 

 go out, or smoke, by the air coming down the chim- 

 ney, in part. You ventilate such rooms by provid- 

 ing an opening for the air to enter the room, and 

 this may be often done by introducing fresh air by 

 pi2)e or box through the cellar, and admitting it 

 by a register, under the stove, so that it may be 

 warmed as it enters. 



If the heat comes from a furnace, the fresh air 

 being supplied below, and heated, must have space 

 in the room which is to be heated, cr it cannot en- 

 ter. The room is therefore to be ventilated by 

 pro\'iding an opening for the escape of the air from 

 it, and this is done best by a register near the top 

 of the room ; for, although, as we have seen, the 

 air which has been rendered impure by breathing, 

 is, at the same temperature, heavier than before, 

 yet it is warmed in the same process of breathing 

 and so rendered lighter, and at first ascends, as you 

 may see your breath do, in any clear, cold morning. 

 In the case of close stoves, or air-tights, there is no 

 change of the air, — no tendency of the air to enter 

 or escape. The room soon becomes like a corked 

 up bottle of the water of the Dead Sea, unless ar- 

 tificial means are provided for the admission and es- 

 cape of air. A register under the stove bringing 

 fresh air in from without, and a register at some 

 distant point at the top of the room, for its escape, 

 are perhaps the best means of ventilation. 



