KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL. 



299 



THE DELIGHTS OF FRESH AIR. 



Let your air be clear and pure, 

 And free of odors from the sewer. 



This super-excellent advice is almost lost 

 on the present generation of this country, 

 for our congregated numbers, and the ar- 

 rangement of our houses, seem to be dia- 

 metrically opposed to it. Man acts strangely. 

 Although a current of fresh air is the very 

 life of his lungs, he seems indefatigable in 

 the exercise of his inventive powers to de- 

 prive them of this heavenly blessing. Thus, 

 he carefully closes every cranny of his bed 

 chamber against its entrance, and he prefers 

 that his lungs should receive the mixed 

 effluvium from his cellar and larder, and from 

 a patent little modern Aquarius, in lieu of it. 



Why should man be so terrified at the 

 admission of night air into any of his 

 apartments ? It is Nature's ever-flowing 

 current, and never carries the destroying- 

 angel with it. 



See how soundly the delicate little wren 

 and tender robin sleep under its full and 

 immediate influence ; and how fresh and 

 vigorous and joyous they rise amid the 

 surrounding dew-drops of the morning ! 

 Although exposed all night long to the air 

 of Heaven, their lungs are never out of 

 order, and this we know by the daily repe- 

 tition of their song. 



Look at the newly-born hare, without 

 any nest to go to. It lives and thrives, and 

 becomes strong and playful, under the un- 

 mitigated inclemency of the falling dews of 

 night. I have here a fine male turkey, full 

 eight years old, and he has not passed a 

 single night in shelter. He roosts in a 

 cherry-tree, and always is in primest health 

 the year throughout. Three dunghill fowls, 

 preferring this cherry-tree to the warm 

 perches in the hen-house, took up their airy 

 quarters with him early in October, and 

 have never gone to any other roosting 

 place. The cow and the horse sleep safely 

 on the cold damp ground, and the roebuck 

 lies down to rest in the heather on the dewy 

 mountain's top. I myself can sleep all night 

 long, bareheaded, under the full moon's 

 watery beams, without any fear of danger, 

 and pass the day in wet shoes without 

 catching cold. 



Coughs and colds are generally caught in 

 the transition from an over-heated room to 

 a cold apartment ; but there would be no 

 danger in this movement if ventilation were 

 properly attended to, — a precaution little 

 thought of now-a-days. We are subject to 

 contract rheumatism by lying in damp 

 places, and more especially on damp beds. 

 Still many wild animals, whose flesh and 

 blood are of the same nature as our own, are 

 much more abroad during the falling dews 



of night than under the warm sun of day,—- 

 the fox, the badger, and polecat, to wit ; but 

 we never find these animals out of sorts with 

 achings or with pains. 



He who takes a pleasure in ruminating on 

 the varied habits of animated nature will 

 soon learn the cause why man can bear so 

 little, and the brute so much, whilst under 

 exposure to the open air. Custom is allowed 

 to be second nature. To custom, then, we 

 applyfor information on the present subject. 



The ass goes without clothes, whilst man 

 has a garment over him ; but were man de- 

 prived of this, he would tremble in the 

 breeze which does not in the least affect his 

 humble beast of burden ! The custom, then, 

 of wearing clothes has placed man in this 

 inferiority ; for those parts of his body free 

 from covering, feel as little inconvenience in 

 a storm as the ass itself. Thus the hands of 

 the ploughman, by perpetual exposure to 

 the weather, become as hardy as the hide of 

 the horse, which goes on before him ; and 

 the face of our old stage-coachmen (alas ! 

 that this fine breed should be extinct !) 

 would bear the pelting of the north-east 

 blast as well as the stoutest bullock on 

 Scotland's highest moors. 



But although civilisation has put it out 

 of the power of man in general to bear the 

 inclemency of the weather with full impu- 

 nity, it ought not to follow on that account 

 that he should render himself still more 

 unfit, by so pertinaciously excluding the 

 fresh air from his apartments. It is a pity 

 that we cannot manage matters in such a 

 manner as to enjoy ourselves within doors, 

 and at the same time run no risk of catching 

 cold when exposed to the vicissitudes of the 

 weather without. This might easily be 

 effected by a well-regulated ventilation. 



Here let me remark, \ that he who first 

 proposed the late health-destroying window 

 tax, ought to have been sent to the pillory 

 once a month during the remainder of his 

 life : and that those who gave it their sanc- 

 tion ought to have been condemned to 

 work in the capacity of night-soilers for 

 fourteen years at least. 



Ventilation, however, would not always 

 suit the nature of some of our factories ; and 

 where this is the case, the operatives must 

 submit to disease in its foulest shape without 

 repining, as modern commerce is allowed to 

 take precedence of health. Qucerenda pe- 

 cunia primum est. Money, — money, — money, 

 is the first grand requisite ! God help the 

 poor soul whom abject poverty forces into 

 those colossal repositories of pestilential 

 vapors where the direful effect of confine- 

 ment puts one so much in mind of Sterne's 

 " Captive;" " He saw him pale and feverish. 

 For thirty years the western blast not once 

 had fanned his blood !" 



