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There may be the possession of sterling integrity and great moral worth ; in short, all the things that are true, and honest, and pure, and just; but not the things that are lovely. There is wanting the amiable temper, the courteous address, the attraction of kindness. It is a fine body in an uncomely dress; it is a lump of gold, but amorphous and unburnished ; it is a diamond, not cut and flashing with all the hues of the rainbow, but dull and covered with all its earthly incrustations.
Character is the best thing on earth ; why not then invest it with all the charms of which it is susceptible, and compel men to love and admire it as they do a jewel, both for its own sake and for the sake of its beautiful setting also ? The character of every man, far more than his wealth, is public property; and should be so exhibited as not only to attract attention, but to excite admiration and emulation.
CLEAN TEETH. MICRO (ICROSCOPIC examinations have been made, by scientific
gentlemen, of the matter deposited on the teeth and gums of numerous individuals, from all classes of society, in various conditions of health. The result was, that in nearly every case animal and vegetable parasites were discovered. Of the animal parasites there were three or four species, and of the vegetable, one or two. The number of these parasites was found to be greater or less in proportion to the cleanliness of the teeth; but even those who were in the daily habit of using the tooth-brush, powders, and washes, were not entirely free from them. Nor do tobacco juice and smoke impair their vitality the least. The only persons who were found to be completely free, used soap daily in cleaning their teeth.
Soap appears to be the only article that will effectually destroy these parasites, hence we may infer that it is superior to every thing else for cleansing and preserving the teeth. In all cases where it has been tried, it has received unqualified commendation. We have used it for several years, and can attest to its superiority as a dentrifice. The purest of soap should be obtained, and if scented with sassafras, winter-green, or something similar, its use will be pleasant. The brush should be wet and rubbed on the soap, and, after thoroughly brushing the teeth, the mouth rinsed with water. The teeth should be cleaned after the last meal at night, again in the morning, and the mouth rinsed with water after each meal.
greater propriety than Professor Longfellow. Not only has his life been passed amid halls of classic lore, but his themes and style all remind us of scholarship and association with books. Actions do not always reveal one's real character; but there are few authors who do not exhibit in their writings the lives they lead. With Longfellow, one of the first things that strikes us is his scholarship; yet he is never pedantic; he unconsciously reminds us of the life he has led.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is the son of the Hou. Stephen Longfellow, of Portland, Maine. He was born in that city on the 27th of February, 1807. Of his youth we have no account, save that at the early age of fourteen he entered Bowdoin College, from which he graduated four years afterward, in 1825. For a few months he studied law in his father's office, but being offered a Professorship of Modern Languages in the college from which he
had graduated, he immediately set at work to fit himself for the duties of that office.
In 1826 he sailed for Europe, where he passed three years and a half, residing or traveling in France, Italy, Spain, Germany, Holland, and England. He returned to this country in 1829, and entered upon the duties of his office. In 1831 he was married. The youthful professor was a great favorite with the collegians. When not engaged in the labors of instruction, he was himself a student, or a weaver of those beautiful verses in which he has exhibited so much cultivation. In a few years he became widely known as a graceful poet, and a most elegant and accomplished scholar.
The Professorship of Modern Languages and Literature in Harvard College becoming vacant, in 1835, by the resignation of . Mr. George Ticknor, Longfellow was called to fill the vacant chair. He now resigned his professorship at Brunswick, and again went abroad, to make himself a more thorough master of the languages and literature of northern Europe. On this occasion he passed the summer in Denmark and Sweden ; the autumn and winter in Germany; and the following spring and summer in Switzerland. While in Germany he had the misfortune to lose his wife.
In the autumn of 1836 he returned to America, and immediately entered upon the duties of his professorship at Cambridge, where he has ever since resided, except during a short visit to Europe in 1842, for the restoration of his health. He married a second wife, and now resides in elegant style in the old Craige house, formerly the head-quarters of Washington, at Cambridge, Massachusetts. In a beautiful poem, addressed to one of his children, he thus alludes to it:
“Once, ah! once within these walls,
The Father of his Country, dwelt;
Encircled with a burning belt.
“Up and down these echoing stairs,
Sounded his majestic tread;
Weary both in heart and head.”
THE AIR WE BREATHE.
No man in New England is more popular among his friends and the public; and few are more deservedly so than Longfellow. He is surrounded by a rare collection of books, and visited by the great, the wise, and the good of both hemispheres. Much might be said in praise of his excellent qualities, but it is sufficient to add that he is truly a man and a gentleman.
THE AIR WE BREATHE.
BY JAMES F. W. JOHNSTON, M. Ai
HE earth we inhabit is surrounded by an atmosphere of air, the
height of which is known to be at least forty-five miles. It presses upon the earth with a weight equal, at the level of the sea, to about fifteen pounds on every square inch of surface. ascend high mountains, this weight becomes less; and as we go down into deep mines, it becomes sensibly greater.
We breathe this atmospheric air, and without it we could not live a single moment. It floats around the earth in almost perpetual motion ; and, according to the swiftness with which it moves, it produces gentle breezes, swift winds, or terrible tornadoes.
Though very familiar to us, and regarded with little curiosity, this air is yet very wonderful, both in itself and in its uses.
Though apparently pure and elementary, it is by no means either a simple or pure substance. It is a mixture of several different kinds of matter, each of which perform a beautiful and wise part in relation to animal and vegetable life. Four substances, at least, are known to be necessary to its composition. Two of these, oxygen and nitrogen, form nearly its entire bulk; the two others, carbonic acid and watery vapor, being present only in minute quantities.
Oxygen is a kind of air or gas, which, like the atmosphere itself, is without color, taste, or smell. A candle burns in it with much greater brilliancy and rapidity than in common air. Animals also breathe in it with an increase of pleasure ; but it excites them, quickens their circulation, throws them into a state of fever, and finally kills them, by excess of excitement. They live too rapidly in pure oxygen gas, and burn away in it like the fast-flaring candle. This gas can not be seen by the eye, or detected by any of the other
Its presence may be readily perceived, however, by the
THE AIR WE BREATHE.
brilliancy with which a lighted candle will burn when immersed in it.
NITROGEN is also a kind of air which, like oxygen," is void of color, taste, and smell ; but a lighted candle is instantly extinguished, and animals cease to breathe when introduced into it. Oxygen is one ninth part heavier, and nitrogen is one thirty-sixth part lighter, than common air. CARBONIC ACID is a kind of air which, like
oxygen and nitrogen, is void of color; but, unlike them, possesses a slight odor, and a perceptibly sour taste. Burning bodies are extinguished, and animals cease to breathe when introduced into it. It is one half heavier than common air, and can therefore be poured through the air from one vessel to another like water. It is the escape of this gas which gives their sparkling briskness to fermented liquors, to soda-water, and to the waters of some mineral springs.
WATERY VAPOR is the steam or vapor, visible or invisible, which ascends from a surface of water when exposed to the air. When water is spilled upon the ground in dry weather, it soon disappears, rising in invisible vapors and floating buoyantly among the other constituents of the atmosphere.
These four substances the air everywhere and always contains. They are all necessary to the daily wants of animal and vegetable life; but the two gases, oxygen and nitrogen, form so large a pro-. portion of the whole, that we are accustomed to say of dry air, that it consists of nitrogen and oxygen only, in the proportion of four gallons of the former to one of the latter. More correctly, however, air, when deprived of the watery vapor and carbonic acid it contains, consists, in one hundred gallons, of seventy-nine of nitrogen mixed with twenty-one of oxygen.
The carbonic acid exists in air in very small proportion. At ordinary elevations there are only about two gallons of this gas in every five thousand of air. It increases, however, as we ascend, so that at the heights of eight or ten thousand feet, the proportion of carbonic acid is nearly doubled. Even this increased quantity is very small; and yet its presence is essential to the existence of vegetable life on the surface of the earth.
Being heavier than common air, it appears singular that the proportion of this gas should increase as we ascend into the atmosphere. Its natural tendency would seem to be rather to sink toward the earth, and there to form a layer of deadly air, in which neither animal nor plant could live. But independent of winds and aërial