THE VALUE OF FRESH AIR. To breathe in an atmosphere of carbonic acid is death, as rapid as it is certain. Let us imagine, then, forty individuals to have entered a room of sufficient size to receive them without overcrowding. We may as well consider it an ordinary schoolroom, and the forty individuals forty industrious pupils. This will give us an opportunity of noticing, among other things, how impure air affects the thinking brain. Suppose them diligently at work, then, in an unventilated apartment, with the door and windows closed. Now, calculating from the same estimates as before, in one minute from the time of entry each of the forty pairs of lungs has performed eighteen respirations; and with every respiration a pint of air has been deprived of a fourth part of its oxygen, and the same volume of carbonic acid has been mingled with the atmosphere of the school-room. In one minute of time, therefore, forty times eighteen pints, that is, seven hundred and twenty pints, as we are not speaking of adults, we will say six hundred pints of the inclosed air, have been deprived of no less than a fourth of their creative oxygen; while an equal volume of the destroying acid is floating in the apartment, and influencing the blood at every inspiration. Or (which will be found, upon calculation, to amount to the same thing), in one single minute, as much as one hundred and fifty pints-upwards of eighteen gallons of air -have altogether lost their life-creating power; the deficiency being made up by a deadly poison. Now, since such a change takes place in one minute, let me beg of you to reflect what change takes place in ten, what in twenty, what in half an hour; what must be the amount of poison which the lungs of these unfortunate victims are inhaling, after an hour of such confinement. And yet how common it is, not for school-children alone, but for persons of all ages and conditions, to be shut up in low-pitched, badly-ventilated apartments, for more than five, six, or seven hours together! Allow me to remind you that in the human body the blood cir 135 culates once in two and a half minutes. In two and a half minutes all the blood contained in the system traverses the res'piratory surface. Every one, then, who breathes an impure atmosphere two and a half minutes, has every particle of his blood acted on by the vitiating air. Every particle has become less vital-less capable of repairing structures, or of carrying on functions: and the longer such air is respired, the more impure it becomes, and the more corrupted grows the blood. Permit me to repeat, that after breathing for two and a half minutes an atmosphere incapable of properly oxygenating the fluids which are traversing the lungs, every drop of blood in the human being is more or less poisoned; and in two and a half minutes more even the minutest part of all man's fine-wrought organs has been visited and acted upon by this poisoned fluid - the tender, delicate eye, the wakeful ear, the sensitive nerves, the heart, the brain; together with the skin, the muscles, the bones throughout their structure in short, the entire being. There is not a point in the human frame but has been traversed by vitiated blood- not a point but must have suffered injury. Without food or exercise, man may enjoy life some hours; he may live some days. He can not exist a few minutes without air. And yet, what laws are so infringed as the laws of respiration? In our temples of public worship, in our courts of justice, in our prisons, our mines, our factories, and our schools, ventilation was, until lately, almost disregarded; nay, is still, in many places, entirely disregarded. And as for private dwellings, it may be most unhesitatingly affirmed that even for the wealthier classes of society, not one house in a hundred-perhaps not one in a thousand is constructed on sound sanitary principles with respect to its ventilation. I allude not so much to lower stories as to dormitories. How rare to find a dormitory whose atmosphere at early morning would be no more tainted than when it was entered for repose the previous night. Yet, be it borne in mind that whenever, after a night's repose, the slightest degree of closeness is perceptible in a chamber, it is an incontrovertible proof that the chamber is not well ventilated; and that, whatever may have been the benefit which the system may have received from sleep, that benefit has been partly neutralized by the ill effects of an impure atmosphere. THE VOICE OF SPRING. BY MARY HOWITT. I AM coming, I am coming; See, the yellow catkins cover Hark! the new-born lambs are bleating, Look around thee, look around! Turn thine eyes to earth and heaven; CONTENTMENT. GOD sets bounds to our lot: let us, then, set bounds to our desires, and bring our mind to our condition. A small estate, honestly come by, which a man is content with, enjoys comfortably, 'serves God with cheerfully, and puts to a right use, is much better and more valuable than a great estate ill got, and then ill kept or spent. It carries with it more inward satisfaction, a better reputation with all that are wise and good; it will last longer, and will turn to a better account in the great day, when men will be judged, not according to what they had, but what they did. There is no time lost while we are waiting God's time. It is as acceptable a piece of submission to the will of God to sit still contentedly when our lot requires it, as to work for him when we are called to it. It is better to live poorly upon the fruits of God's goodness, than live plentifully upon the products of our own sin. It much more deserves and demands our care, what estate we shall go to in the other world when we die, than what estate we shall then leave behind us in this world. Matthew Henry. MANUFACTURE OF MARBLES.-There is something ingenious in the manufacture of these toys. The greater part of them are made of a hard stone, found near Coburg, in Saxony. The stone is first broken with a hammer into small cubical fragments, and about one hundred or one hundred and fifty of them are ground at one time in a mill, somewhat resembling a flour-mill. The lower stone, and which remains at rest, has several concentric circular grooves; the upper stone is of the same diameter as the lower, and is made to revolve by water or other power. Minute streams of water are directed into the furrows of the lower stone. The pressure of the runners on the little pieces rolls them over in all directions, and in one quarter of an hour the whole of the rough fragments are reduced into nearly accurate spheres. STRATFORD UPON AVON. WE present a picture of the church in which the mortal remains of Shakspeare lie buried. This church is situated in the village of Stratford, in England, upon the north bank of the River Avon. Stratford is a small town, of between three and four thousand inhabitants. The river is here crossed by a bridge of fourteen arches. Various fires in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries destroyed most of the older buildings, and that in which Shakspeare died was wantonly razed by its proprietor; but the house in which the great poet was born has been preserved. The church, a spacious and handsome edifice on the margin of the river, surrounded by large elms, contains a bust of Shakspeare, and the tombs of himself, his wife, and daughters. Ol. So say I. When we got rid of Master Pliant, I thought we were rid of school for the season. John. Poor Pliant! How we plagued him! Ol. Yes, and how he would have thrashed us, if he had dared! John. Yes. He was one day going to flog little Frank; but I told him, if he did it, he or I would have to go down, the next time we met out of doors. So he did n't do it. Ol. I told him you and I would put him under the pump, if he did n't shorten our lessons. John. Good! But, Oliver, what do you hear of the new master? Ol. I hear he is a little fellow, smaller than I am. We shall have no trouble in keeping him under. John. We must let him see, at the start, that we intend to do pretty much as we like. Ol. Yes. We must give him to understand that we can whip him, if we choose, and that he must be careful how he offends us. John. But how shall we make him fully aware of that? 138 THE NEW SCHOOLMASTER. At our first meet Ol. Leave it to me. ing in the road I will give him a hearty slap on the back, and ask him how his aunt is. If he shows fight, you must stand by to help me. We can master him between us, I reckon. So, John. I shall be on hand. I'm not afraid but I could manage him alone. if you don't draw him out, I will. Ol. Who comes here? Enter MR. HARDCASE. Mr. Hardcase. Good-morning, boys! Is there any sport going on in this part of the country? John. Sport enough, sir! In the first place, we are to have a game of football yonder, in Deacon Dunbar's big lot. Then we are to have a wrestling-match, and then, after dinner, we are going in the boat across the pond to fish. Mr. H. A pleasant bill of performances! But how happens it you are not at school? Is there a vacation? Ol. Yes, one of our own making. forced the schoolmaster to give up, in disgust. Mr. H. Tell me about it. Ol. He once kept me an hour after school; and what do you suppose it was for? Mr. H. Perhaps to do a stupid * sum in arithmetic. Ol. No; to learn how to spell the name of the second month in the year. Mr. H. Why, what a fussy old fellow he must have been! Well, how did you spell it? Ol. F-e-b, feb, u, febu, a-r-y, ary; Febuary. Isn't that right enough? Mr. H. Well, there is a prejudice in favor of an r at the beginning of the second syllable; but, if you choose to drop it, where's the harm? Ol. Exactly. That's what I said. Mr. H. But how about the new master? Are you not afraid you may have made a bad exchange? You remember the fable of the frogs who prayed to Jupiter for a king? John. No, we don't. What is it? Mr. H. Well, in answer to the prayer We of the frogs, Jupiter sent them a harmless log. But, not content with so tame a king, they prayed for another; whereupon Jupiter sent them a stork, who forthwith began to devour them as fast as he could. Ol. Why, you see he was a young fellow, about your age, I should think, and we almost worried his life out of him. Mr. H. What was his offense? John. His offense was in being a schoolmaster. Mr. H. The monster! But was he severe in his management? Ol. Yes; he wanted to make us learn grammar. Mr. H. The tyrant! You knew grammar enough, already, for all practical purposes, I suppose? Ol. To be sure, we did! He set us long lessons, and then, because we would n't learn them, he threatened to complain to the school committee. John. Yes, he done that Mr. H. Stop! Say did that, if you please. Mr. H. How do you mean to do it? Ol. Well, supposing we were to meet him here: I am to go up and give him a good thump between his shoulders, as if in play; and then, if he resents it, I am to pitch in and whip him; and if I can't do it alone, John is to help me. O! we mean to break him in at the outset. Mr. H. Truly, a rare plot! But what * Give long u in this word its y sound, as in mute, cube, &c. Some persons will say stoopid, which is wrong. Long John. Well, he did that several times, u, however, after r in the same syllable, as in rule, rude, till we lost all patience. has the sound of long oo. In new give the y sound, as in few. WHERE DOES WOOD COME FROM? if the schoolmaster should take you by the ears, and knock your thick skulls together? John. I'd like to see him do it! We would give him particular fits. Mr. H. Well, now, boys, I have a surprise for you. (Producing a letter.) Can you read the address on that letter? Ol. and John (reading together slowly). "To Andrew R. Hardcase, Esq., Teacher." Mr. H. You have read it correctly. Now, do you understand what it means? Ol. Why, that's the name of the new schoolmaster. Mr. H. Yes, it is my name. The new schoolmaster stands before you. You seem astonished. Now is the time to "break him in," you know. Why do you not begin? Mute? Motionless? Not a word? Not a blow? Not a thump between the shoulders? How is this, boys? You hang your heads. — I see. It is only your modesty that stands in the way. Well, we shall meet again, my young friends. For the present, good-by. [Exit. Ol. (still holding down his head). Has he gone? John (looking round cautiously, and drawing a long breath). Yes, he has gone. Why did n't you do as you said you were going to? I was waiting for you, all the while. Ol. There was mischief in his look. John. So, he frightened you, did he? Ol. No, it was n't that. He only took me by surprise. If I had been prepared for him, I should have given it to him about right. If he were to come in now, I would punish him so that he could n't see out of his eyes. John. Yes, if he were to come in now, I should be all right. He took us by surprise, you see. But he did n't dare touch us. Reënter MR. HARDCASE. Mr. H. (standing between them). Come here, my young friends. Nearer. A little nearer, if you please. (Harshly, and stamping his foot.) Nearer, I say! (They draw suddenly near, and he takes each by 139 the ear.) It occurred to me, after I left you, that perhaps you were rather taken by surprise; so I have come back to give you another chance to carry out your intentions against the new master. (Pinches their ears.) John. O! Don't! Ol. (howling). Stop that, will you? Mr. H. Now, are not you a pretty couple of blockheads? Ol. (crying). Why don't you go at a fellow of your size? Mr. H. A pleasant understanding at the commencement saves a deal of trouble. John. Let go my ear, will you? Mr. H. Not yet. (Wrings it, and JOHN utters a cry of pain.) I wish you to understand fully, my young friends, that the new master is not a King Log. (Lets go their ears.) I will now once more bid you good-by. This is lesson number one. Remember. John. Oliver! Ol. John! John. King Stork has come. [Exit. Ol. Poor innocent babes, what will become of us? John. No more playing truant! Ol. No more skipping of lessons! John. No more fun in school-time! Ol. John, I don't feel like kicking football. I think I'll go home. John. Well, mother thought I had better take some paregoric and squills. I think I'll go and take some. Good-by. [Exeunt different ways. WHERE DOES WOOD COME FROM? Ir we were to take up a handful of soil and examine it under the microscope, we should probably find it to contain a number of fragments of wood, small broken pieces of the branches, or leaves, or other parts. of the tree. If we could examine it chemically, we should find yet more strikingly that it was nearly the same as wood in its composition. Perhaps, then, it may be said, the young plant obtains its wood from |