DID you, in your travels, gentle reader,

affect the subterranean? Have you, on a warm, clear spring day at Rome, threaded the catacombs? or left the sunshine of Egypt to creep into a tomb that antedates the Pharaohs? If not, you have doubtless seen a mouse die in an exhausted receiver, or known the stifling air of an American steamboat cabin, and, in the latter case, experienced the delight of emerging from that suffocating crypt into the aerial sphere which is man's natural element. Then have you breathed from the heart a blessing on air, and inhaled it awhile with conscious gratitude. Let the memory of that transient appreciation incline thee to air thy thoughts with me on this theme, and acknowledge that "a bag of wind" is, after all, not so despicable a thing as the world imagines.

This circumambient element is the instant need of vitality; but science has failed to penetrate its most subtle relations. The first consideration to the philosophic mind in its choice of an abode, is the quality of the atmosphere; no beauty of scenery or idea of conve

nience should weigh a moment against the least detrimental influence of the air. I remember the phrase of an asthmatic traveller in his letter home after reaching Buenos Ayres:-"I breathe for the first time!" Consider the luxury of such an experience! In no one physical agency is the secret of individual health so involved. Of all affinities between man and the universe, this is the most essential. What we inhale acts on tho blood and thence on the brain and nervous system. Once realized, this singlo fact makes paramount our estimate of air in hygiene: and yet it is, of all other resources of the vital economy, that in regard to which there is the most frequent compromise. Americans complain of illness in winter, and have the greatest appreciation of summer and of travel as the means of recuperation; it is not any mysterious benefit derived from the season or locomotion, but the sanative effect of exposure to the air, that is thus fraught with healing. The bloom on English cheeks, the compass of Italian voices, the animal spirits of southern peasantry, aro chiefly derivable from out-of-door life.

Abundant supply of oxygen to the lungs is the grand desideratum of civilized life; ventilation has become a mission of philanthropy.

Recall the different sensations from air charged with vapor and with frost, with saline and inland exhalations, with the odorous balm of a summer noontide and the dewy breath of evening; what refreshment like the breeze that springs up after dead heats? and how instantly unnerved is the frame swathed in the hot mist of a southern calm! "Air put in motion" is the brief definition of the wind in lexicographies; but what a contrast in quality according to its direction; from the east it brings collapse, from the west expansion; when north, it exhilarates, and in the opposite quarter, melts; greets us with the tender salutation of a lover, or assails us like the angry encounter of an enemy: at one time fearful and at another a delight. Nature is mute or full of voices as the wind listeth; how gracefully it curls the waves and bends the forest, dallies with the flower, and, in slow gyrations, wafts the crimson leaf of autumn from its bare summer eyrie to the earth. There is no poetry of motion so beautiful as the swaying of a field of ripe grain in the breeze, no music more solemn than the sound of the wind among the pines, no touch so captivating as the play of the zephyrs over a child's golden hair: it breaks water into diamonds, makes the amber clouds sweep into fleecy piles, and lifts the downy seed into space.

Whoever would realize the varied and gentle blessings of the "evening wind" in summer, should ponder Bryant's melodious tribute; and to catch the very sensation of a calm at sea, it is enough to read Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner." To a sensitive frame, the luxury of our climate, whose alternations exceed all others in quickness, is the shifting of the wind from east to southwest; it is like going from the society of prudes and pedants into that of a warm-hearted maiden or cordial friend. Yet these changes in the air are most convenient themes to open a colloquy or furnish an excuse. I remember a famous singer of rare vocal powers, but no habits of study, who, when ignorant of his part, used to a-hem gravely, and decline vocalizing, with the phrase, "c' equalchecosa nel atmosfera." Sounds produced by wind are the most suggestive in nature; the flap of a sail, the wail of the night-breeze over a ruin, the rustle of a maize field, the clatter of

66

dry reeds in autumn, and the shrill piping of wintry gusts-" touch the electric chain" of memory and imagination to pensive or hopeful musings. Aerial perspective is cited by Berkeley in his argument for the non-existence of matter, as a proof of how much the mind has to do with vision. The faces of men betoken their acquaintance with the winds; in the brow and cheek of hardy mariners, we almost see the rough handling of northwesters; dwellers by the sea have a wholesome ruddiness; the southern breeze stamps its olive on the fairest, and clear pearly skins abound in humid atmospheres. I knew an old gentleman who made a hobby of the air; he stuck vanes all over his barn-roofs, windmills on his gate-posts, and wind-sails above his scuttles, cut a window wherever there was room for it, and every night banished his household to the kitchen, flung open all the casements, stripped to the buff, and ran through every room in the house, to enjoy his air-bath. He was, indeed, what honest Will calls 8 dedicated beggar to the air," and, not from pride, but for hygiene, would suffer no one to come "between the wind and his nobility." The most remarkable interior air for evenness of temperature and agreeable warmth, is that of St. Peter's Church at Rome; and the most perverse taste in air was that of an old Boston merchant, who used to go regularly to the end of Long Wharf, unbutton his vest and open his mouth, to get what he called "a belly full of east wind."

The invisibility of air is one of its greatest charms; its effects alone reveal it to the senses; hence their sublimity and grace; the gale that shrieks among the rigging of a storm-tossed vessel, and the zephyr that steals low notes of melody from an Eolian harp, the breeze that stirs leaves, and the tornado that hurls down temples, move alike on wings no eye can behold. This is the mystery which superstition translated into voices, and which sounds, with lyrical sweetness, in the poet's ear. At times the coy touch of the air seems to woo us; and, when encountered after long deprivation, it is like the breath of maternal nature. After a night-ride in Switzerland, cooped up in a Diligence, what a sudden animation thrills the frame as the exhausted lungs drink in their first draught of mountain air! when becalmed at sea, how the languid nerves respond to the low whisper of the new

born wind! when dense clouds lower on an August noon, and the electric flash breaks through to herald the shower, a universal stir of freshness comes with the rising blast. The sirocco, the monsoon, and the hurricane, are so many phenomena of the air, wherein stagnation, consistency and tumult analogous to those of human moods and passions, assert dominion in an element the most powerful and the most capricious in nature.

There is more of individual character and destiny to be ascribed to air than the superficial observer imagines. Between the climates of Naples and New England is an atmospheric diversity which explains, in no sinal degree, the antagonistic spheres of Puritan and lazzarone. The man who, environed by tropical heats, would expend his powers in vague dreams, braced by the gales of the northern Atlantic, abounds in practical efficiency of intellect. We are reconciled to things in the West Indies and South America which we could never endure in Wales. It is a question, therefore, in the last analysis, of immense personal interest, what air we breathe; those unconscious inhalations, and that invisible pressure are momently giving to the organization its temper; the senses are quickened or subdued, the brain excited or depressed, the heart expanded or stilled, according as the element which feeds our life is pure or corrupt, dead or alive, invigorating or oppressive.

"The

air agrees with me "-simple words, but fraught with meaning; the physique is then at home; and the first grand requirement of health satisfied.

The metaphorical use of a word that defines a natural object or element, is a kind of instinctive recognition of its use. Thus, by the term air, applied to a person or place, we indicate their generic expression or natural language. In art and characterization, the ultimate and entire effect is thus designated, the most delicate impression revealed. The air of Michael Angelo's Brutus is stern, that of Raphael's Madonnas meek, and in society we speak of a fashionable, a modest and a conceited ir; after we have exhausted the details whereby the graceful vivacity of a woman is decribed, we call her debonair; and, with one phrase, express our sense of a loveable beauty, by declaring she has an angelic air; such expressions suggest a philosophic truth; life, manners, and character have their atmosphere-they radiate a certain influence, attractive or the reverse, sympa

thetic or self-absorbed, and in this lies the true secret of the impressions we receive from them. Swendenborg has based upon it his doctrine of spheres; the phenomena of animal magnetism is its physical demonstration. There is evolved from every human being a spiritual effluence which, to keen discerniment, is foreshadowed by manner, movement, and the unconscious aspect of face and figure,in short, by the combined expression of all these-which constitutes what we call their air; it is the most reliable token of disposition, always seized by the portrait painter of genius, as the true type of individuality: whether martial, sinister, convivial, abstract, or sentimental. The very posture of Sterne's head is bumorous, and of Dr. Johnson's dogmatical; there is fantasy in the mere shape of Shelley's face, and satire in the outline of Voltaire's; sentiment moulds the lips of Petrarch, and will makes grim and severe the profile of Dante. In all marked characters, whether dramatic or portrayed, this immediate and subtle expression, this evanescent yet characteristic result of features, form, and attitude

this air, is what catches the eye, attracts the mind, and lingers in the memory. It is the vital trait, the real key to personality-and, like the atmosphere we breathe, the habitual element and tone which forms the normal life of man. Its suggestions rarely mislead, yet being felt rather than seen, only sensitive organizations adequately interpret them. There are social as well as natural atmospheres by which we are cheered or palsied; and geniality is the needful quality in both. How silence broods over the earnest man when surrounded by the frivolous or the conventional! and how vanity chirps and flutters among fops and coquettes! Great emotion and high thoughts fade in the artificial breath of what is called society as certainly as health declines in close rooms and amid noxious exhalations.

Forty-five miles is this aerial sea known to extend in height, and fifteen pounds to the square inch is its ascertained weight. The idea, not long since, occurred to a French gardener, that the development of the more delicate blossoms is essentially modified by such atmospheric pressure; accordingly, he tried the experiment of attaching pots of violets to little balloons, and securing them by long cords to the earth, sending them to bloom far up amid the fields of ether; the violets thus expanding

in the upper air, proved of incredible

size.

There is no exhilarating draught like the air highly oxygenated; the spirits, like flame, glow, intensify, and expand in its embrace. When freighted with deadly gas, the air settles in caves; witness the tribe of attenuated dogs who undergo, for the amusement of visitors, the ordeal of the Grotto del Cane, near Naples; and the fatal gas lakes of Java. But, when impregnated with nitre, as in the mammoth cave, of Kentucky, the air of a subterranean chamber is most refreshing and sanative. Who has not felt the oppressive influence of exuberant vegetation? Like myriads of little beings, the leaves inhale the carbonic acid of the atinosphere; and, by a benign provision of nature, the air is constantly washed of its innumerable foreign deposits by showers; and purified by lightning and frost. The poets have expatiated in its vast domain, and glorified its wondrous ministry. The adjectives of Shakespeare applied to it would form a scientific nomenclature of its qualities and functions. He speaks of its "sightless couriers," its "most excellent canopy;" he calls it invulnerable, charming, pendulous, wanton, bleak, vast and wandering, intrenchant, mutinous, solemn, empty-and a "chartered li bertine;""it is an eager and a nipping air," says the ghost-expectant watcher on the ramparts of Elsinore; "the air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle senses" -murmur Macbeth's unsuspicious visitors; of the poet, it is said, he gives to airy nothing "a local habitation and a name;" and we are invoked not 66 'to trust the air with secrets;" "I am fire and air," declares the dying Cleopatra; trifles light as air," says Iago, to the jealous, confirmations strong;" violets "take the winds of March with beauty," in the "Winter's Tale;" "blow me about in winds," exclaims remorseful Othello. Deserted age appeals to them in fury, and tender love will not let them visit her cheek "too roughly;" and, with equal poetry and truth, float -Ariel, and the airy dagger-through the bard of Nature's immortal realm. It is the element of infinite possibilities, where the future triumphs of science are destined to be achieved. Intrepid æronauts have already tracked the fields of amplest ether; to “hang an atom in the vaulted sky," is no longer a miracle; and Peter Wilkins "Flying

are,

Women may yet prove no flight of fancy. At this moment, the grand desideratum which science and mechanical skill most aim to realize, is a machine for navigating the air.

What marvels of sound and scent air holds in solution; of all the elements it is the most spiritual; its currents seem guided by conscious will, its freight selected and upborne from instinctive affinities. With what a dying fall or rush of triumph it bears the strains of music; they greet us on its restless wings with cheer and benediction; who that has heard bugle notes echo from the shores of Lake George, listened in the interludes of sleep, to the distant serenade in Italy, or felt the plaintive tones of a cadenza thrill the verdant gloom and solitude of a garden, and not blessed the mission of the air? Ask the homeward traveller when he first catches the odor of the magnolia whose blossoms gleam amid the foliage of his plantation, the invalid whose lungs inhale the balsamic exhalations of the pines, the desert caravan when spicy odors announce the goal of its pilgrimage, the northern poet who knows spring's tardy advent by the perfume of orchard bloom, how grateful to their consciousness is the mysterious vehicle that so blandly heralds to senses and soul, refreshment and luxury! It is odorous air that most keenly excites association; violets breathe of the sweet south, the delicate aroma of the broom charms the lonely wayfarer in Sicily, sandal-wood hints of oriental delight in Rome the orange flower, in England the woodbine, and in France mignonette fills the household air with incense.

Wind sweetens the buds, is a sedative to the nerves, fills the sails, turns the mill, and over the landscape creates an endless variety, driving cloud-shadows across the fields, and on each species of tree producing a diverse motion; swaying the pendent branches of the willow, lifting to the light the silver lining of the poplar leaves, and bending, in graceful curves, the lithe masses of dense foliage; these evanescent effects of wind are the despair and the delight of the artist; Constable most successfully depicted them; he made a patient study of the wind as it is related to sky and earth; Stanfield has done the same in regard to its action on water; and some musical composers have transferred to their works the plaintive and lively sounds it awakens; imitating, with marvellous