The Human Body and Health: 
E ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY OF THE BODY; 
ITS VARIOUS PARTS AND ORGANS; 
THEIR PROPER CARE AND USE; 
AND 
HE LAWS OF HEALTH MADE PLAIN. 
A HANDBOOK FOR THE FAMILY. 
BY 
E. SMALL, M. D., 
in" 
AUTHOR OF “A TREATISE ON INFLAMMATORY DISEASES,” ETC. 
iXjLXJSTra.te:!^ 
BOSTON: 
JAMES H. EARLE, PUBLISHER, 
No. 20 Hawley Street. 
1878. COPYRIGHT, 
1863, by E. Small; 1878, by S. E. Small. PREFACE. 
It is hardly possible to over-estimate the daily prac- 
tical value to every person, of a correct and familiar 
knowledge of the human body; its various organs, 
external and internal; the functions of each; the 
laws that control them ; their proper and natural 
use; the influence of diet, exercise, sleep, rest, re- 
creation, &c., upon body and mind, and thus the 
means by which the system may be maintained in 
vigor and health. Such knowledge lies at the basis 
of physical comfort and success, and no false mod- 
esty should be allowed to stand in the way of gain- 
ing information upon so much depends. It 
is plain, therefore, that there is the most urgent 
need of a work that shall give the people every- 
where this practical knowledge of themselves and 
tbe laws of their being. 
This want the author, out of a long and extensive 
study and practice of medicine, endeavors to meet 
in the present volume. 
The work avoids, as much as is possible, the use IV 
PREFACE. 
of technical medical terms, and in simple, direct 
language, in the form of conversations between a 
physician and his children, and with the aid of en- 
gravings of different organs and parts of the body, 
brings the delicate and mysterious subject within 
the comprehension of young and old. 
The author, having been often called upon to 
address lyceums and Sabbath schools on this gen- 
eral subject, has felt the importance of impressing, 
in such a work as this, the incontestable proofs of 
the goodness and wisdom of the Creator, and of the 
vast capabilities of the soul fashioned in his likeness. 
In addition to the comfort and vigor to be gained 
from the knowledge which these pages seek to con- 
vey, it is hoped the book will pay for itself many 
times over in the saving of bills for medicine and 
medical attendance, and of loss of'time in sickness. 
The illustrations of the volume are from that most 
valuable work, “ The Household Physician,” by Dr. 
Ira Warren. 
If this volume shall lead its readers to a better 
knowledge of themselves, and obedience to the laws 
ordained for their health and happiness, and to see 
in the mysterious arrangement of the human body 
the wisdom of the beneficent and loving Creator, 
the author’s work will not be in vain. 
Boston, Mass. CONTENTS. 
Conversation Page 
L INTRODUCTORY 17 
H. THE BONES AND JOINTS 21 
HI. JOINTS OF THE BODY (Continued) 45 
IV. THE MUSCLES 57 
V. THE MUSCLES (Continued) 71 
VL THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 82 
VII. THE NERVOUS SYSTEM (Continued) 98 
VIII. DIGESTION AND NUTRITION 108 
IX. DIGESTION AND NUTRITION (Continued) 132 
X. THE BLOOD-VESSELS AND LUNGS 140 
XI. THE CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD 155 
XII. THE CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD (Continued).... 170 
XIH. THE SECRETORY ORGANS OR GLANDS 187 
XIV. ABSORPTION 199 
XV. THE SKIN - 214 
XVT. THE TEETH 228 
XVII. THE SPECIAL SENSES—THE SENSE OF VISION 243 
XVIII. SENSE OF HEARING 265 
XIX. THE SENSE OF SMELL 280 
THE SENSE OF TASTE 284 
THE SENSE OF TOUCH 291 
XX. MISCELLANEOUS 296 
XXL THE SOUL 312 
xxn. LAW 327 
XXHI. HYGIENE—THE PRESERVATION OF HEALTH 346 
XXIV. HYGIENE 361 
XXV. DIET 382 
XXVI. HYGIENE 413 ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
CONVERSATION I. 
INTRODUCTORY. 
The Creator’s power demonstrated by nis works—His good- 
ness AS CLEARLY PROVED BY HIS WORKS AS HIS POWER. 
Father.—My dear children, I am happy to meet 
you again in our study, where we have often conversed 
with so much pleasure, and, I trust, with profit. 
Frederick.—We are all here, Father, waiting with 
much interest to hear what you will say on the new 
subject about which you promised to speak at the next 
meeting. 
Frank.—I feel sure we shall be delighted. 
Mary.—I am anxious for you to commence at once. 
Father.—You must be patient, my children, if you 
would obtain profit; to do which, we must be sys- 
tematic, and proceed in the order due to such a 
subject. 
Fred.—I know, Father, you arc always for reducing 
every thing to system and order. I feel desirous to 18 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The earth’s velocity. 
know what proof you can give of God’s goodness in 
the formation of our bodies. I should be glad to have 
proof that God is good, for in our last conversation 
we were alarmed at what you told us of the power of 
God, so that I am really afraid to pray. 
Father.—What did I say, my son, that frightened 
you? 
Fred.—You said that this earth on which we live, 
which is more than twenty-five thousand miles in 
circumference, is moving in its orbit round the sun at 
the rate of more than one thousand miles a minute. 
Father.—That is so, my son; and that you may be 
able to form a better estimate of such amazing velocity, 
I will here state what I then neglected to say, that the 
speed of the earth in its annual revolution round the 
sun, is more than one hundred times greater than that 
of a ball shot from a cannon, which is about six hun- 
dred miles an hour, or ten miles a minute. In other 
words, while a cannon ball travels one mile, the earth 
goes one hundred. 
Frank.—Is that possible ? 
Father.—It is not only possible, but it is a fact, 
which may be easily demonstrated. The earth is not 
only moving at this prodigious rate, but the moon, 
which revolves round it at the distance of two hundred 
and forty thousand miles, is also carried along with it. 
At the same time the earth revolves on its own axis 
from west to east, every twenty-four hours; and all RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
19 
Creator’s power and goodness. 
these wonderful and complicated movements are so 
uniform and regular, that not a jar is produced, nor 
can we realise that the earth moves at all. 
Frank.—I am startled, Father, at your statements ! 
Father.—As startling as'this appears, it is still a 
more thrilling fact, that there are countless millions of 
worlds, some a thousand times larger than our earth, 
which are flying through infinite space with a surprising 
degree of velocity, and with the utmost exactness and 
order. It is certainly very proper that we should feel 
the most profound awe when we contemplate the works 
of God; and could we not discover proofs of goodness 
as well as power in them, we might well fear and 
tremble. 
Frank.—That is just what I have been thinking, 
Father, since our last conversation. For, if such 
power is not controlled by goodness, how do we know 
that it will not be exerted for our destruction? It 
seems to me that it would be cause for terror, rather 
than love. 
Mary.—It appears to me just as Frank says. I 
cannot doubt the power of the Creator—his works 
prove it. But do his works prove his goodness as 
clearly as his power ? 
Father.—I think so, my daughter. And by a careful 
study of his works, especially in the structure of our 
bodies, we shall see that his goodness is as fully 
demonstrated as his power. And what can be more 20 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
God’s impress on our body. 
ennobling than such a study ? Or what can inspire a 
greater degree of devout adoration to the God who 
made us. 
At the close of our last interview I promised to 
commence a series of conversations at our next 
meeting, in which I was to prove the wisdom and 
goodness of the Creator by the structure of the human 
body, which promise I shall now attempt to redeem. 
And if the display of power impresses us with a feeling 
of awe, the manifestation of goodness should certainly 
inspire us with love. 
Fred.—So it seems to me. And I have sometimes 
thought, when reading the book of Exodus, that could 
I have stood with Moses on Mount Sinai and heard 
God speak,—or could I have seen the tables of stone 
on which he wrote the ten Commandments, I should 
ever after have felt the most profound awe and ado- 
ration. 
jFather.—But, my son, let me assure you that the 
finger of God has left its impress upon your own body, 
as clearly traced as were the ten commandments upon 
the tables of stone; nor should the adoration be less 
profound in the one case than the other; for it is the 
finger of God in both; and where God is seen, or 
leaves his impress, "let man adore.” " CONVERSATION II. 
THE BONES AND JOINTS. 
Aji atomy, Physiology and Hygeine defined—Name and defini- 
tion OF PARTS OF WHICH THE BODY IS COMPOSED - OSTEOLOGY— 
Number, name, and location of the bones—Uses of the bones 
—Joints of the body—Sinovial fluid, or joint water. 
Children.—TVe are again waiting very impatiently, 
Father, hoping that this time you will tell us something 
of what you say is so wonderful in the formation of 
our bodies. 
Father.—I am pleased, *my dear children, to find 
you so much interested in the subject upon which we 
are to converse, and I hope you will not be disappointed 
in the pleasure and profit you anticipate. But I must 
again check your impatience, before I commence to 
give the description of our bodies that I have promised. 
System and order are Heaven’s first law, in all His 
works, and it should certainly be ours in attempting 
to investigate them. I must here state, at the begin- 
ing, that I do not intend, in these conversations which 
I have promised you, to go into the minutiae of the 
Anatomy and Physiology of the human body; yet, to 
talk intelligibly, we must have some knowledge of 
these subjects. I am well aware that Anatomy, Phy- 22 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Organs of the body. 
siology and Hygiene, are usually regarded by young 
people as dry subjects, and destitute of interest, if 
not absolutely repulsive. But this is an erroneous view, 
and is the result of a wrong presentation of the subject 
to the youthful mind. Of the truth of this statement I 
hope to convince you, before we close this series of 
conversations. Of the importance of such knowledge, 
no thoughtful person can indulge a doubt. In what I 
intend to say I shall pursue the following course :—I 
shall first briefly describe the Anatomy and Physiology 
of each part and organ of the body upon which we 
speak, as the bones, muscles, nerves, stomach, heart, 
lungs, eyes, ears, teeth, skin, lymphatics, arteries, 
veins, capillaries, &c., after which I shall explain the 
laws which control the health of the various organs 
and parts of the body. 
Mary.—I did not suppose, Father, that you were 
going to talk to us about the bones, the heart, the 
veins, and such things, for it always frightens me to 
hear about them. I thought you would tell us some 
wonderful things about the formation of our bodies, 
and show us that God is good to make us as we are. 
Fred.—So I thought. 
Father.—So I will; but in order to do so, I must 
first describe the parts of which our bodies are com- 
posed. Should you see a machine in operation which 
indicated great wisdom and skill in the one who in- 
vented and constructed it, the complicated movements 23 
RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
What Anatomy and Physiology is. 
of which you felt desirous to understand, but which 
you could not comprehend without a careful study of 
all its parts separately, that you might see the connec- 
tion and influence each part has with, and upon the 
other, in producing the results you witnessed, what 
would you do ? 
Fred.—I should examine and study the parts sepa- 
rately, of course. 
Father.—If, then, to understand a complicated ma- 
chine, made by man, you would examine the parts 
separately, how much more necessary is it, in order to 
comprehend the infinitely more complicated piece of 
mechanism God has made—our bodies—to study its 
numerous parts and organs, and their movements, 
separately ? 
Fred.—I suppose it must be so, and to this I have 
no objection. But you said you would describe the 
anatomy and physiology of the numerous organs of 
the body. 
Father.—So I did; and a study or description of 
the numerous organs of the body I have named, and 
their functions, is the study of Anatomy and Phy- 
siology. 
Frank.—Why, Father, I thought Amatomy and 
Physiology was something more than that! 
Father.—No, it is just that. But it would be well, 
perhaps, to express it in a little more exact ard scien- 
tific manner. 24 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Definitions of terms. 
Anatomy, in its primary meaning, is the art of 
dissecting, or artificially separating the different parts 
of an animal body. But the term is more commonly 
applied to a description of the structure, mechanism 
and organization of living beings. 
Physiology is the science of the functions of all 
the different parts or organs of animals while in a state 
of health, or the office which they perform in the 
economy of the individual. 
Hygiene is the art or science of preserving health, 
upon which I shall speak at some length in the closing 
conversations of the series. 
All bodies or substances are either organic or inor- 
ganic. Organic bodies have organs, upon whose action 
their growth depends. Animals and plants are includ- 
ed in this division. Inorganic bodies are devoid, both 
of organs and of life. Earths and minerals are of this 
class. 
All organized bodies possess a power which we call 
vitality, by which they are developed from within by 
a process called nutrition, which consists in converting 
certain substances to their own nature by the action 
of their organs. 
All animal bodies derive their origin from parents, 
or pre-existing bodies of the same kind, and have a 
period of growth, maturity and decay, and a limited RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
25 
Parts defined. 
period of life, which varies with different species, 
from a day to a century. 
Animal or organic life is under the control of law, 
the violation of which shortens the period of life 
alloted to man; a fact upon which I shall speak more 
fully in a future conversation. 
The various parts of the human body are arranged 
into what are called Fil'-a-ments, Fi'-bres, Tis'-sues, 
Or'-gans, Ap-pa-ra'-tus-es, and Sys' -terns; which 
terms I will explain, or define. 
A Filament is a fine thread of which flesh, nerves, 
skin, etc., are composed. 
A Fibre is a slender thread, composed of several 
filaments united, and enclosed in a sheath. It con- 
stitutes a part of the form of animals. 
A Tissue is formed by a particular union, or inter- 
lacing of fibres. 
An Organ is an arrangement of tissues forming an 
instrument designed for action. The action of an 
organ is called its fauction. 
To illustrate. The lungs are organs of respiration, 
and breathing is one of their functions. The liver is 
an organ, and its function is the secretion of bile. 
Ajst Apparatus is a union of several organs for tho 
production of certain results. The digestive apparatus 26 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Name and use of parts. 
affords a good example. It consists of the teeth, 
salivary glands, stomach, pancreas, liver, etc., all 
uniting to aid hi the digestion of food. 
"The term, System, is applied to an assemblage of 
organs arranged according to some plan, or method; 
as the nervous system, the respiratory system.” 
Mem'-brane, or Tissue, is a thin, white, flexible 
skin, formed by fibres interwoven like a net-work. 
There are several lands of membrane, as the Mu'~ 
cous, JSe'-rous, Gell'-u-lor, Ad1-impose, 3fusl-cu-lar, &c. 
The Mucous Membrane lines the mouth, nose, 
stomach, bowels, lungs; in short, all cavities which 
communicate with the air. 
The function of the Mucous Membrane, or the small 
glands situated in its substance, is to secrete a viscid, 
slippery fluid called mucous, the object of which is to 
lubricate the surface, and thereby prevent chafing and 
irritation. 
The Serous Membrane lines all closed cavities 
which have no communication with the air, such as the 
skull, chest, etc. It secretes a watery fluid which 
lubricates the organs or parts it envelopes. This 
membrane, when diseased, sometimes secretes too 
great an amount of water, which constitutes dropsy 
of the brain, chest, and other organs. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
27 
Membranes. 
Tiie Cellular Membrane is a net-work of cells, 
varying greatly in size and shape. It is composed of 
small fibres, running in every possible direction, and 
extending throughout the entire body. These cells 
communicate with each other, and the fluid they contain 
flows from cell to cell, and in consequence of disease, 
often becomes too great, producing general dropsy. 
The Adipose Membrane, or Tissue, forms distinct 
bags or cells, which contain a substance called fat. 
There is, in many instances, a great deposit of this 
substance in persons-who are corpulent. This material 
is deposited chiefly around the heart and kidneys, and 
under the skin and muscles of the abdomen. Persons 
may become enormously enlarged by an increase of 
this tissue without any increase in the size of their 
muscles. " Such a condition,” as an interesting writer 
justly remarks, " is to be deplored; the body having 
become merely the store-house or depot of myriads of 
pots of fat.” 
"Tiie Muscular Membane is composed of many 
filaments, that unite to form fibres, each of which is 
enclosed in a delicate layer of cellular membrane. 
Bundles of these fibres constitute a muscle.” 
Muscles are designed for hard labor, as I shall explain 
at a future time. They have much lifting and pulling 
to do. They are therefore composed of minute fibres. 
Mary.—Why arc they made of small fibres ? 28 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Tissues. 
Father.—That they may have the greatest possible 
strength in the smallest compass. 
Fred.—Have they any greater strength for being 
composed of small fibres ? 
Father.—Certainly they have. Ropes, you know, 
are made of small cords or threads, for the reason, 
that, in no other way can they be made of the same 
diameter to possess the same strength. The four 
cables which support the Suspension Bridge at Niagara 
Falls, are each composed of 3659 small wires, for the 
reason that no solid iron of the same diameter (10 J 
inches) could sustain such an immense weight. So 
the muscles, made up of vast numbers of hair-like 
fibres, possess a degree of strength truly astonishing, 
and almost incredible, as I shall show when describing 
them. 
The Nervous Tissue consists of two substances. 
The one, is of a gray color, and of a pulpy character. 
The other is white, and of a fibrous character. Both 
these substances are united in every part of the nervous 
system. 
"The Fibrous Tissue consists of longitudinal, 
parallel fibres, which are closely united. These fibres, 
in some situations, form a thin, dense, strong mem- 
brane, like that which lines the internal surface of the 
skull, or invests the external surface of the bones. In 
■*ther instances, they form strong, inelastic bands, RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
29 
Tissue. 
called lig'-a-ments, which bind one bone to another. 
This tissue also forms ten'-dons, (white cords,) by 
which the muscles are attached to the bones.” 
The Cartilaginous Tissue, or Cartilage, is 
smooth, firm, and highly elastic. The ends of the 
bones which come together to form joints, arc covered 
with it. Its color is a pearly white. 
The Osseous, or Bony Tissue, varies in arrange- 
ment of matter and density of structure, in different 
bones, and at different periods of life. The arrange- 
ment of bony matter is such as to give a cylindrical 
form to some bones, while others are disposed of in 
plates, or are flat. Some bones are dense and compact, 
others porous and spongy. A space in the center of 
long bones is filled with a substance called mar'-row, 
the design or use of which has long been a subject of 
controversy among physiologists. 
But I fear, my children, that you are beginning to 
feel disappointed, and have already come to the con- 
clusion, that after all that has been said, I have intro- 
duced to your attention only a dry subject, one iu 
which you can never feel any interest. 
Frank.—I have no such feeling, Father. It is true, 
I feel desirous to know what there is in the formation 
of our bodies to prove God’s goodness. But I know 
it is necessary that we should have knowledge of tho 30 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The human skeleton. 
Fig. 1. 
Fig. 1. 1,1, represents the spinal column: 2, the skull; 3. the lower jaw; 4, 
the breast bone (sternum); 6, the ribs: 7, tne collar bone; 8, the bones of the 
upper arm (humerus); 9, the shoulder joint; 10, the radius; 11, the ulna; 12, 
the elbow joint; 13, the wrist; 14, the hand; 15, the haunch bone; 16, the 
sacrum; 17, the hip joint; 18, the thighbone; 19, the knee pan (patella); 20, 
the knee joint;21, the fibula: 22, the tibia; 23, ankle joint; 24, the foot; 27, 28, 
29, the ligaments of the shoulder, elbow, and wrist; 30, the large artery of the 
arm; 31, the ligaments of the hip joint: 32, the large blood vessels of the thigh: 
33, the artery of the leg: 34, 35,36, ligaments of the knee pan, knee, and ankle 
THE HUMAN SKELETON. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
31 
Osteology. 
different parts and structures of which our bodies are 
composed, else we could not understand your expla- 
nations. 
Father.—That is true, my son. And I must be- 
speak your patience a few moments longer while I 
give a very brief description of the bones of which 
our bodies are composed, which by Anatomists is 
called 
OSTEOLOGY. 
There are, in the human body, two hundred and 
forty bones, including the teeth, which are usually 
reckoned at thirty-two. 
Fig. 2. 
THE HEAD. 
Fig. 2. 1,1, the front and upper part of the skull and coronal suture: 2, the 
sagittal suture on the top of the skull: 3, 3 the lambdoidal sutures running 
down on each side of the back part of the skull. 32 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Bones of the Head. 
Frank.—Why, Father, your first statement sur- 
prises me ! Can it be possible that there are two 
hundred and forty bones in our body? I did not 
suppose there was a tenth part of that number. I 
should like to know where they all are. 
Father.—I will tell you where they are, and will 
also present to you these fine engravings to illustrate 
the bones I describe, which I wish you to study care- 
fully. And that you may the better understand, I will 
divide them into four parts. 
1st. The bones of the head, including the teeth, 
are sixty-two ; eight in the skull, four in each ear, and 
fourteen in the face. 
Fred.—I can see but four bones in the skull. 
Father.—The skull bones are double; that is, they 
are formed of two tablets or plates, one underneath 
the other, with a porous, spongy layer of bone between. 
These two plates of bone give very great protection 
to the brain, the outer one being tough and fibrous, 
and the other very hard. The bones of the skull 
are united by what arc called sut'-ures, which are 
ragged edges, interlocking each other somewhat in 
the manner of what by carpenters is styled dove- 
tailing. These bones are quite open in early life, but 
in old age the sutures close and the bones are firmly 
united. 
The bones of the ears will be described in a future 
conversation when we come to speak of that organ. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
33 
Bones of the Trunk. 
The bones of the Face serve for the attachment of 
the powerful muscles by which the jaw is moved in 
masticating food. They also sustain the soft parts of 
the face in place. 
2d. The bones of the Trunk—fifty-four—twenty- 
four in the Sjpi'-nal Col'-umn, (back bone) ; twenty- 
four Ribs, four in the Pel'-vis; one at the base of the 
tongue called the Os-hy-oid'-es; and the Ster'-num, 
(breast bone). 
These bones are so arranged as to form the two 
Fig. 3. 
THE THORAX OR CHEST. 
Fig. 3. 1, is the spine: 2, 2, the collar bones: 3, 3, the seven upper, or true 
ribs: 4, 4, the five lower, or false ribs:.5,' the breast bone—to which the true 
x-ibs are united: 6, tire sword-shaped cartilage which constitutes the lower end 
of the breast bone, called ensiform cartilage-. 7, 7, the upper part of the two 
lungs: 8, 8, the right lung, seen between the ribs: 9, 9, the left lung: 10,10, the 
heart: 11,11, the diaphragm, or midriff1; 12,12, the liver; 13,13, the stomach; 
14,14, the second stomach, or duodenum; 15, the transverse colon; 16, the 
upper part of the colon on the right side; 17, upper part of colon on left side. 34 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Bones of the Trunk. 
great cavities of the body: the Tho'-rax (chest) and 
the Ab-do'-men. 
The Tiiorax is formed by twelve bones of the spinal 
column posteriorly, or on the back part, the sternum 
in front, and the ribs at the sides. The sternum in 
childhood consists of eight pieces of bone, which in 
adults arc so united as to form but three. 
The seven upper Pins, called the true ribs, are 
united in front to the sternum, and in the rear to the 
spinal column. The next three, called false ribs, arc 
united to the spine, and in front are united to each 
other by cartilage. The other two are connected only 
with the spine, and are called floating ribs. 
The Spinal Column is composed of twcnty-foui 
bones, each of which is called a ver'-te-bra. Each 
bone has seven projections called pro'cess-es, to four of 
which, muscles are attached for the purpose of bind- 
ing the bones together, while the other three serve as 
attachments for the muscles of the back. 
The vertebra are so arranged that a tube is formed, 
in the spinal column, in which the spinal cord is 
placed. 
The Pelvis. The four bones which form the pelvis 
are the two in-nom-i-na'-ta (nameless bones), the 
sa'-crum, and the coc'-cyx. In childhood, the innomi- 
nata consists of three bones, which in adults are united 
and become one. In these bones is a deep cup-like RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
35 
The Pelvis. 
depression, or socket, called the ac-e-tab'-u-lum, in 
which the head of the thigh-bone is placed to form the 
hip joint. 
Pig. 4. 
Fig. 4. 1,1, the innominata: 2, the sacrum: 3, the coccyx: 4, 4, the acetabu- 
lum: a, «, the pubic portion of the nameless bones: <1, the arch of the pubis: 
e, the union of the sacrum and the lower end of the spinal column. 
THE PELVIS. 
The Sacrum. Between the right and left innomi- 
nata is a wedge-shaped bone called the sacrum, to 
which the two innominata are firmly bound by liga- 
ments. The sacrum forms the base of the spinal 
column, to which it is attached by the lower vertebra. 
The Coccyx is the lower extremity of the spinal 
column. In infancy it consists of several small bones, 
which, in youth unite and become one. 
3d. The hones of the upper extremities—sixty-four. 
These are the Olav'-i-de, (collar bone) ; the Scap'-u- 
la, (shoulder blade) ; the Hu'-mer-us, (first bone of 36 
ANATOMY AND niYSIOLOGY 
Bones of the upper extremities. 
the arm) ; the Rad'-i-us and Ul'-na, (hones of tho 
fore-arm) ; Car'-pus, (wrist) ; Met-a-car'-pus, (tho 
hand) ; and the Pha-lan'-rjes, (fingers and thumbs). 
The Clavicle is attached at one end to the scapula, 
Fig. 5. 
Fig. (>. 
Fig 7. 
Fig- 5. 1, is the shaft of the bone; 2, the large round head which fits into the 
glenoid cavity; 3. the surface which unites with the ulna. 
Fig. 6. 1, is the body of the ulna; 2, (he shaft of the radius; 4, the articulat- 
ingsurface with which the lower end of the humerus uuiies; 5, the upper ex- 
tremity of the ulna—which forms the elbow joint; 6, the point where the ulna 
articulates with the wrist. 
Fig. 7- 1 he eight bones of the wrist or carpus, are arranged in two rows, 
and being bound close together, do not admit of very free motion. S, 1., ( 
1*, bones of the first row, T, T, M, U. the second row of the carpal bones, 11,11, 
are the metccarpal bones of the hand; 2, 2, the first range of finger bones; ,3, 3, 
the second range of finger bones; 4,4, the third range of finger bones; 5, G, the 
bones of the thumb. 
THE HUMERUS.—THE ULNA & RADIUS. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
37 
Bones of the upper extremities. 
and at the other to the sternum. Its use is to keep 
the arms in their proper place. 
The Scapula is a thin, flat bone, of a triangular 
form. It is located upon the upper and back part of 
the chest, .and is kept in its position by muscles, by 
the contraction of which, it is moved in various di- 
rections. 
The Humerus is the largest bone of the arm. Its 
form is cylindrical. The upper extremity is attached 
to the scapula by the glenoid cavity or socket, forming 
the shoulder joint. At the other extremity it is con- 
nected at the elbow with the ulna of the fore-arm. 
The fore-arm is the part between the wrist and the 
elbow. 
The Ulna is connected with the humerus and forms 
the elbow joint. It is situated on the inner side of 
the arm. 
The Radius is joined to the bones of the carpus 
and forms the wrist-joint. It is placed on the outside 
of the fore-arm. 
These two bones of the fore-arm,—the ulna and ra- 
dius, at their lower extremities, articulate with, or are 
joined to each other, by which means the hand is 
allowed to rotate. 
The Carpus is composed of eight hones bound firmly 
together by strong bands or ligaments. 38 
ANATOMY AND TIIYSIOLOGY 
Bones of the lower extremities. 
The Metacarpus consists of five bones. Upon four 
of them the first bones of the fingers are placed, and 
the first bone of the thumb upon the other. 
Fig. 8. 
Fig. 0. 
TIIE FEMUR OR THIGH-BONE. 
THE TIBIA AND FIBULA 
BONES OF THE LEG. 
Fig. 8. 1, is the shaft of the thigh-bone (femur); 2, is a projection called the 
trochanter minor, to which Some strong muscles are attached: 3, is the head 
of tlie femur which iits into the acetabulum: 6, is the external projection of 
the lemur, called the external condyle: 7, the surface which articulates with 
the tibia, and on which the patella slides. 
Fig. 9. 1, the tibia: 5, the fibula: 8, the space between the two: 6, the junction 
of the tibia: and fibula at the upper extremity: 3, the internal ankle: 4, the 
lower end of the tibia that unites with one of the tarsal bones to form the 
ankle joint: 7, the upper end of the tibia which unites with the femur, RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
39 
Bones of the lower extremities. 
The Phalanges contain twenty-eight bones—three 
in each finger, and two in each thumb. 
4th. The lower extremities contain sixty bones; 
the Fe'-mur, (thigh bone) ; the Pa-tel'-la, (knee-pan) ; 
the Tib'-i-a, (shin bone) ; the Fib'-u-la, (small bone 
of the leg) ; the Tar'-sus, (instep) ; theilfet-a-tar'-sus, 
(middle of the foot) ; and the Pha-lan'-ges, (toes). 
The Femur extends from the hip-joint to the knee. 
It is the largest bone in the body. It has a large, 
Fig. 10. 
Fig. 10 is a side view of the bones of the foot. 
Fig. 11. 
Fig. 11, gives a view of the upper surface of the bones of the foot. 1, is the sur- 
face of the as-tra-ga-lus where it unites with the tibia; 2, the body of the astra- 
falus: 3, the heel bone: (os calcis): 4, the sca-phoid bone: 5,6,7, the cu-nei-form 
ones: 8, the cu-poid; 9, 9, 9, the metatarsal bones: 10, the first bone of the 
great toe: 11, the second bone: 12,13,14, three ranges of bones forming the 
small toes. 40 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Uses of the bones. 
round head or ball, fitted into the acetabulum, which 
as I have said, forms the liip-joint. 
The Tibia and Fibula extend from the knee to 
the ankle joint. They arc triangular in form, the 
tibia being the greatest. They are lirrnly bound 
together at each end. 
The Tarsus consists of seven bones of irregular 
form, and so firmly bound together as to admit of 
little or no movement. 
The Metatarsal bones arc five in number. Their 
extremities are connected, one with the tarsal bones, 
and the other with the first bones of the toes. They 
arc so united as to give the foot the form of an arch, 
concave below and convex above. 
The Phalanges, have fourteen bones ; two in each 
great toe, and three in each small one. 
USES OF THE BONES. 
The bones, when united, constitute the frame of the 
system. They are to the body what the timbers are 
to the house. They retain every part in its proper 
shape and place, and afford a surface to which the 
muscles and ligaments are firmly attached, by which 
the body is bound together, and its motions produced. 
The functions of the bones are as various as their 
form and structure. While some arc designed to RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
41 
Joiuts of the body. 
give protection to the organs they enclose, as the skull, 
sockets of the eyes, etc., others subserve the purpose 
of motion, as the upper and lower extremities, while 
by others, both these objects are accomplished, as the 
spinal column. 
These two hundred and forty bones, like the timbers 
of a building, must be united or joined together to 
form the human structure. And such are the varied 
motions required of the body, that the joining together 
of the bones must be equally varied. While some 
require free and unrestrained motion in every direc- 
tion, others require to be bound fast in their place, or 
to move within prescribed limits and in particular 
directions. 
A consideration of these facts will lead us to an 
investigation of the 
TOITsTTS OP THE BODY. 
In the first place we observe, that the bones, the 
connection of which form movable joints, increase in 
size at their extremities or ends, for the purpose, we 
may suppose, of forming a larger surface for the joint, 
that the friction may thereby be diminished, and the 
firmness and stability of the joint increased. 
Frank.—I have observed in the bones of animals, 
that the ends were larger than other parts, but I never 
before knew why it was so. 
Father.—Bonti, being composed mostly of phos- 42 
ANATOMY AND PIIYSIOLOGY 
Joints of the body. 
phatc of lime, is of a coarse, rough texture, and con- 
sequently, would soon wear out by the friction or 
nibbing of the joints, had not some effectual means 
of prevention been devised. And this means is as 
wonderful as it is useful. It is as follows :—The ends 
of the bones which come together to form joints, are 
overlaid with the hard, firm, smooth, and elastic sub- 
stance called cartilage, (See Fig. 12). The object 
of this lining is clearly to form a smooth and highly 
polished surface on which the joint may move without 
friction or wearing. This lining cartilage is of pearly 
whiteness, and not more than one-sixteenth of an inch 
in thickness. 
Mary.—Are not other parts of the bones, as well 
as the ends, covered with cartilage ? 
Father.—No, my daughter, all other parts are 
covered with a tirm, tough membrane called the Per- 
i-os'-te-um, which adheres very firmly to the bone, 
and to which the muscles and ligaments are attached, 
which will be explained hereafter. Nothing can show 
more clearly the wise design and goodness of the 
Creator, than this lining cartilage, the object of which 
—to form a smooth, polished surface for the joint— 
cannot be mistaken. But no surface, not even the 
most highly polished steel, can be made sufficiently 
smooth to prevent all friction. A constant rubbing 
for years, will wear away the hardest metals. It is 
therefore necessary to oil the most perfect machinery, RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
43 
.Joints of the body. 
to prevent friction ; and the same thing is necessary 
for the joints of our bodies. 
Fred.—Do you mean to say that the joints of our 
bodies need oiling? 
Father.—Yes, my son, that is just what I mean. 
Fred.—I do not see how that can possibly be done. 
Father.—God, in his goodness, has most wonder- 
fully provided for this necessity. On the side of each 
joint is a gland, which secretes, or separates from the 
blood, an *oily fluid called the Sy-no'-vi-a, or joint 
water, far more slippery and lubricating than the 
purest oil. A constant supply of this precious muci- 
lage is provided, from the beginning to the close of 
life, in precisely the quantity required to keep the 
joints perfectly lubricated or oiled, and so completely is 
the friction thereby destroyed, that the joints may be 
in use, without the least wearing, for fifty or a hun- 
dred years. 
Mary.—O, Father, that is wonderful! 
Frank.—I have been told that a steam engine, with 
its great bars of iron and steel, will wear out in from 
five to ten years, although it is kept constantly oiled. 
And will the bones of our bodies wear longer than 
these large bars of steel? 
Father.—Yes, flic engine is the work of man, and 
consequently imperfect. But our bodies arc'the work 
of God, and, " as for God, his ways and works are 
perfect.” The joints of our bodies move with such 
perfect ease and freedom, that we arc seldom reminded 44 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Perfection of the joints; their easy movements. 
that we have any joints. Few persons have the 
slightest idea of the perfect ease with which the joints 
move. The following facts will illustrate it in a slight 
degree. 
The joint of the knee sustains the weight of nearly 
the whole body, and in addition to this, a laboring 
man often carries on his shoulder, a burden of two 
hundred pounds weight, which, added to that of his 
body, is not less than three hundred and fifty pounds ; 
and yet the extent of surface of the joint upon which 
this weight bears, is not, perhaps, more than two 
square inches. And the movement of the joint is so 
perfect that not the slightest pain or unpleasant sen- 
sation is produced. A man may walk thirty miles a 
day, which requires not less than thirty thousand 
steps, and at each step the weight of the body rests 
upon this small surface of the knee joint, and yet, not 
the least friction or irritation is produced. 
Fred.—IIow strange, Father, that I never thought 
of this before. I knew that all kinds of machinery 
had to be oiled to keep it from wearing, but I never 
thought that the joints of our bodies needed oiling. 
How good is our heavenly Father thus to provide for 
this want. 
Father.—This is one of the numerous proofs of the 
goodness of God, of which wc shall discover more 
and more as wc proceed in our investigations. 
Wc will now dismiss the subject and resume it at 
our next conversation. CONVERSATION III. 
JOINTS OF THE BODY CONTINUED. 
IIing® Joint—Bali, and socket joint—The spinal column (back 
bone)—Joints op the neck—Peculiarities of the knee and 
ANKLE JOINTS—TlIE WRIST JOINT—ITS ROTARY MOTIONS—TlIK 
GREAT VALUE OF THE HAND. 
Father.—I have already intimated, my children, 
that there arc a great variety of joints in the body, 
some allowing the freest, and others the most limited 
movements, according to the wants of the different 
parts of the body. 
Fig. 12. 
Fig. 12. D, is the tody of a bone, at the end of which is a socket; O, the 
carl Huge lining the socket; B, the body of a bone, at the end of which is a 
found head; A, the investing cartilage, thin at the sides and thick in the centre. 
BALL AND SOCKET JOINT. 
The most important joints are what Anatomists call 
the hingeJoint, and the ball and socket joint. (See 
Fig. 12.) The knee and elbow form a perfect example 
of the hinge joint, and the hip and shoulder of the 
ball and socket joint. 
Frank.—I wish to ask, Father, what keeps the ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The joints held together by ligaments. 
hinge joints of the knee and elbow together? The 
hinge of a door, I see, is formed by passing a bolt 
through the two parts, and by this means, they are 
kept in their place. Is there any thing like bolts in 
the hinge joints of our body ? 
Father.—No, my son, the hinge joints of our bodies 
arc kept in place by a strong, tough membrane, attach- 
ed firmly to the bones below and above the joint, and 
enclosing it on every side. This membrane confines 
and holds the ends of the bones firmly together. The 
ball and socket joint, also, is kept in place by the 
membrane I have already described. Yet, as if fears 
wore entertained that this membrane would not prove 
of sufficient strength to hold the joint together, there 
is additional security in some important joints, which 
consists of a strong, firm ligament, one end of which 
is inserted into the head of the ball, and the other 
into the bottom of the cavity or cup in which it moves, 
(See Fig. 13.) 
This ligament on the inside, and the membrane on 
the outside, keep the two parts of the joint in their 
place with such firmness that nothing but the most 
unnatural violence can separate them. These joints 
are perfect examples of mechanical skill, and nothing, 
perhaps, could present a more striking proof of the 
wise design and goodness of the Creator. 
Tlic important offices and functions of the arms 
and lower limbs, require that they should move with RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
47 
Ball and socket joint; its use. 
Fig. 13. 
Fig. 13. 1, is the socket of the hip joint; 2, the head of the femur, lodged in 
the socket; a, the ligament within the socket. 
the utmost freedom in every possible direction. And 
the ball and socket joint alone can allow of, or secure 
that motion. With this at the shoulder I can move 
my arm in every direction necessary to perform the 
varied duties of life ; while the hinge joint at the elbow 
allows the fore-arm to move in two directions only—• 
backward and forward, and that on a strait line, de- 
scribing less than one-half a circle. 
That we may see more clearly the wisdom and good- 
ness in this arrangement, let ns reverse it, and suppose 
the hinge joint of the elbow had been placed at the 
shoulder. In that case the arm could only move 
backward and forward, describing less than half a 
circle, and consequently would be totally unable to 
perform the varied motions required. 48 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The spinal column. 
Place the ball and socket joint of the shoulder at 
the elbow, and where would be that steady firmness 
with which we now move and control the fore-arm and 
hand? With such an arrangement what worthless 
appendages to the body vTould the hands and arms 
be ! Nay more ! they would be a great and constant, 
incumbrance, and ever liable to be torn from their 
sockets by contact with surrounding objects. 
Fred.—So ingenious and wonderful is this contri- 
vance I am not surprised that I never thought of this 
before ! 
Father.—There is no pail of the frame-work of the 
body, perhaps, that evinces a greater degree of 
mechanical skill, than the spinal column, (back bone). 
It is composed, as I have told you, of twenty-four 
small bones. 
Mary.—I would like to ask, Father, why there are 
so many bones in the spinal column? 
Father.—The best answer I can give is, that there 
should be as many joints as we find really exists. 
For these twenty-four bones, or vertebras, arc joined 
together by a peculiar and highly elastic substance, 
the compression or yielding of which at each joint, 
admits the degree of motion necessary, so that wrhen 
we bend the body forward or sideways, the elastic 
substance between each joint is compressed a little on 
one side, and stretched or lengthened a little on the 
other, and thus allowrs the degree of motion necessliry RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
49 
The joints of the neck. 
in every direction; the greatest forward, it is tme, 
for in it most is needed. The two first joints of the 
neck, however, are totally different in their structure 
and design from any other part of the spinal column. 
The first, or the one next to the head, is a hinge joint, 
to allow the backward and forward motions of the 
head. The other is a mortice and tenon, or ball and 
socket joint, to allow the rotary motion of the head. 
The hinge joint allows us to look with equal ease, at 
the starry heavens over our heads, or at the grecil 
earth beneath our feet; while the ball and socket joint 
allows us to turn our head to the right or left; thus 
enabling us, without a similar motion of the body, to 
sec objects in all directions. 
Now let us for a moment, take a view" of the results 
that would have followed, had the joints of the neck 
been formed like the joints of the spinal column. 
In almost every moment of life, during our waking 
hours, while engaged in the common pursuits of life, 
we find it necessary to turn the head to the right or 
left, although we may be unconscious of it. Were it 
not for the ball and socket joint on which the head 
rotates, we should be obliged to turn the whole body 
as often as we now do the head. And what incon- 
venience and trouble, and even danger, would result 
from such a necessity. For example : I sit here talk- 
ing—something calls my attention to the right or left, 
and instead of turning my head, I must rise from my 50 
ANATOMY AND TIIYSIOLOGY 
The knee joint—The patella. 
seat and place my body so as to see it. I am walking 
in the street, and hear what proves to be a frightened 
horse attached to a carriage, dashing up behind me. 
Could I move my head around I should see my danger 
in time to escape. But as I cannot, I am obliged to 
stop and turn about, before I can discover my perilous 
condition, by which time the frantic horse is upon me 
and crushes me to death. 
Now what do you think of this, my dear children? 
Fred.—I think when God made us, lie saw that our 
comfort, convenience, and even the safety of our lives 
depended upon the form of the two joints of the neck, 
and that he, therefore, in his goodness made them in 
this way. 
Frank.—That is just what I think, Father. 
Mary.—And I think so, too. 
Father.—A very correct conclusion, my children, 
I wish now to direct your attention for a moment, to 
a peculiar and interesting fact in regard to the knee 
joint. This, as I have before stated, is a perfe«t hinge 
joint, but is different in one important respect, from 
all the others, for this is covered on the frontside, by 
what is called the patella, or knee-pan, which is a 
curious little bone, the form and use of which are 
unlike any other. It is circular in form, a little con- 
vex or oval on both sides, and is covered on the inside 
with a smooth cartilage, the same as that with which 
the joints are furnished. It is kept in place by the RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
51 
Its l'onn ami uses. 
powerful tendons which are attached to its upper and 
lower sides, by which the leg is brought forward in 
the act of walking. It is not connected with, or 
attached to any other bone. 
Frank.—Of what particular use is this little bone 
to the knee ? 
Father.—It serves a number of purposes, the most 
obvious of which are— 
1st. It protects the joint from injury on the side on 
which it is most exposed. 
2d. It serves as a medium of connection between 
the tendons or ligament by which the leg is moved, 
one being above, and the other below the knee. But 
I wish to suggest for your consideration the very sig- 
nificant design of the Creator, in forming this bone 
and placing it where we find it. Our heavenly Father 
knew that we should be in duty bound, often to kneel 
in prayer to him, and it would have been very painful 
to be, even for a few moments, on the kneek, if the 
knee-joint, like the elbow, had been left unprotected. 
Let one press the elbow upon a table for a few mo- 
ments, and see what pain it will cause. But with the 
knee-joint, covered with the knee-pan, we can remain 
on our knees for hours with little pain, or incon- 
venience. 
Now I do not say, my children, that this was the 
design of the Creator in forming this bone; I only 
suggest it for your reflection. 52 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The ankle joint; its form and use. 
Frank.—It is certainly worthy of serious reflection. 
Father.—Another not less important joint than the 
knee, is the ankle. This is a hinge joint, but by its 
peculiar formation, is capable of moving, to a limited 
extent, like the ball and socket joint; the constantly 
varying position of the foot requiring such movement. 
But the most interesting fact in regard to the ankle 
joint, and that to which I wish to call your attention 
is, that no joint in the body, perhaps, is so liable to 
dislocation. In walking and running we are ever 
liable to place the foot upon an imeven surface, or a 
rolling pebble, and, with the whole weight of the body 
upon it, there is great liability of its being turned out, 
or dislocated. But this is Wonderfully guarded against 
by the peculiar formation of the joint, and what do 
you suppose it is ? 
Fred.—I caimot tell; but I have learned to believe, 
from what you have already told us, that our heavenly 
Father is both wise and good enough to do any thing 
that our safety and comfort require. But do explain 
it; I am becoming so very much interested. 
Frank.—I think I can tell. I suppose the joint is 
held more firmly in its place by being surrounded by 
larger and stouter ligaments than the others. 
Father.—That is a very reasonable supposition, my 
son, but it is not the true cause. What have you to 
say, Mary? Can you not devise some means for pro- 
tecting the ankle joint ? RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
53 
The ankle joint; how protected. 
Mary.—No, Father, if Frank is not correct, I can- 
not tell. 
Father.—You will recollect that there are two bones 
between the knee and ankle, called tibia and fibula. 
On the outside of each, is a projection and prolonga- 
tion of the outer part, forming what we call the outei 
and inner ankle bone, the inner part of each bone 
being shorter than the outer. This inner and shorter 
part of the bones forms the joint, while the outer parts 
extend down over the joint. Perhaps you do not 
understand the form of this joint, as it is somewhat 
difficult to describe. I will therefore use a very simple 
illustration or explanation. Let a carpenter take a 
piece of plank, say two inches square, and with an 
inch chisel cut out the inner or central part of one 
end, so that each side will be an inch longer than the 
inside which has been cut out, (See Fig. 9—4). This 
latter represents the ankle joint, and the two sides 
which are an inch longer, represent the two bones 
that project or extend down over the joint on the inner 
and outer side of the ankle. 
Frank.—I think I now understand it. The ankle 
bone, on each side, extends down lower than the joint, 
and thereby prevents the joint from slipping out side- 
ways. 
Father.—Yes, my son, that is the fact. And why 
do you suppose the Creator formed the ankle joint so 
very different from all the others ? 54 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The wrist; its rotary motion. 
Frank.—I can see no cause whatever, but his won- 
derful goodness. 
Father.—There is no other cause. God knew what 
anguish would be produced by the dislocation of the 
ankle, and therefore in his goodness formed the joint 
in such a manner as to render dislocation nearly im- 
possible. 
Mary.—I think we ought to love our heavenly 
Father, when he has manifested so much love and 
kindness to us. 
Frank.—I think so too, and I hope to love him 
more than I ever did before. 
Father.—The more we study the works of God, 
especially in the formation of our bodies, the greater 
cause we shall see to love and adore him. But there 
is one other joint which I must describe, and then I 
shall proceed to a description of other parts. I refer 
to the wrist joint, which, perhaps, is the most im- 
portant and valuable of the body. It is a hinge joint, 
and in that respect differs but little from others of 
the same class. It is its rotary motion that consti- 
tutes its peculiar and great value. 
Mary.—What is meant by rotary motion? 
Father.—I mean that motion which enables the 
carpenter to bore with a gimlet, or use a screw-driver; 
or a lady to use her bodkin. It is, perhaps, not too 
much to say, that the rotary motion of the wrist is of 
greater value and importance to man, in the execution RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
55 
The great value of the hand- 
of the arts and duties of life, than the motion of all 
other parts of the body. The hands arc the instru- 
ments by which the mind works ; the mind designs or 
plans, and the hands execute. But the ability of the 
hand to execute depends almost entirely upon its 
rotary motion. From the man who uses the pick-axe 
and shovel, up through every grade of labor, to the 
execution of the highest art, the hands alone perform 
the labor. All other capacities of the body would be 
comparatively worthless without the hands, and the 
rotary motion which gives to them their chief value. 
Fred.—IIow amazing are the uses of this rotary 
motion! 
Father.—My son, it is this, more than every other 
capacity of the body, that distinguishes man from the 
brute creation. You may think I overrate it, but the 
truth is, in every thing we do, this motion is necessary, 
even without our being aware of it. We could not 
even use either knife and fork, or spoon, without this 
rotary motion. Indeed, were it not for th is, we should 
be utterly incapable of procuring the necessaries to 
sustain life. Did you ever think, my children, that 
to the hand the world is indebted for a practical knowl- 
edge of all the arts that adorn life? What would 
avail the talents of an angel without hands to give 
practical form to this knowledge. 
Frank.—I am surprised people do not speak more 
frequently than they do of these wonderful facts. 56 
ANATOMY AND TIIYSIOLOGY 
The great value of the hand. 
Father.—It is for the reason, I suppose, that like 
yourself, they "have never thought of them.” Wo 
must now bring our present lengthy conversation to a 
close. I hope it has not been altogether uninterest- 
ing, or destitute of profit. 
Fred.—I must say I have been more interested in 
this, than any previous conversation. 
Father.—Our next subject will be the muscles. CONVERSATION IV. 
TIIE MUSCLES. 
All the movements op tixe body produced r.Y tiie muscles— 
Their mode of action by contraction and relaxation—Vol- 
untary AND INVOLUNTARY MUSCLES—TllE MUSCLES ENDOWED WITH 
GREAT POWER. 
Father.—In the previous conversations I have 
spoken of the bones and joints of the human body. 
But these bones, however wonderful their structure, 
and perfect the joints by which they are united to form 
the skeleton, have no.power of motion; they cannot 
move themselves. 
Fred.—Do you say, Father, that the bones cannot 
move themselves ? I thought that all the strength of 
the body was in the bones and joints. 
Father.—There is no more capacity or ability in 
the bones to move themselves, than there is in the 
timbers of a building; and the joints are designed 
simply to hold the bones together and allow their 
movements. 
Frank.—If the bones do not move themselves, I 
should like to know what does move them. 
Father.—The instruments which give motion to the 
animal frame, are the muscles with their tendons. 58 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Form and use of muscles. 
The number of muscles in the human body is esti- 
mated at five hundred and twenty-seven. They are 
made up, as I have said, of small fibres, which, 
towards the ends, are so modified or changed as to 
form tendons (cords) and are thereby connected to the 
surface of the bones, or rather to the firm membrane— 
the periosteum—which invests, or covers them. The 
attachment of the muscles to the bone is so firm, that 
the bone will sooner break than allow the tendon to 
separate from it. The muscles form an interesting 
and important part of the system. Also by their large 
number and size, they constitute the great bulk of the 
body, and bestow upon it symmetry and beauty. 
They arc situated around the bones of the limbs, so as 
to invest and defend them, while to some of the joints 
they form their principal protection. "In the trunk, 
they arc spread out to enclose cavities, and constitute 
a defensive wall.” 
Fig. 14. 
Fig. 15, 
Fig. 16. 
Fig. 14. A snindle shaped muscle. 
Fig. 15. A radiate or pen-shaped muscle. 
Fig. 16. A penniform muscle, being shaped like the feather end of a pen. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
59 
Name and form of muscles. 
Muscles vary greatly in form and size. Some are 
longitudinal and spindle shaped, each extremity ter- 
minating in a tendon, while in others the fibres are 
arranged like the rays of a fan, which converge to a 
tendinous point and form what is called a rri-di-ate 
muscle. Again, others are pen'-ni-form, which, like 
the plumes of a pen, or quill, converge to one side of 
a tendon which runs the whole length of the muscle, 
or they converge to both sides of the tendon, consti- 
tuting the bi-peri-ni-form, (See Figs. 14, 15, 16.) 
Fig. 17. 
Fig. 17. L, represents the fibres running in one direction; C, in another; E, 
lower end ot the gullet; O, pylorous; JD, beginning of duodenum, or second 
stomach. 
THE STOMACH AND ITS MUSCLES. 
In describing a muscle we use the terms " origin ” 
and " insertion.” The origin is the part or end firmly 
attached to a fixed point; the insertion is the part 
attached to the bone it is designed to move. The 
middle or fleshy part of a muscle is called the " belly ” 60 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
How muscles produce motion. 
or " swell.” Each fibre of a muscle is supplied with 
both sensitive and motor nerves, also with arteries, 
veins, and lymphatics. 
All the lean or red part of the flesh of man or beast 
is muscle. You can see the structure of the fibres of 
which they are composed, by examining a piece of 
boiled beef. By separating it you will see that it is 
made up of fine, hair-like threads, each of which is 
enclosed in a delicate sheath, as I have before stated. 
Frank.—If the bones cannot move, I should cer- 
tainly think the muscles cannot, for the bones arc a 
great deal stouter and harder than the muscles, which 
you say are only the red meat. 
Father.—The muscles are endowed by the Creator 
with the power of contraction and relaxation, which 
consists in the ability to draw themselves up so as to 
become shortened, and then to extend themselves to 
tlicir original length. And all the motions or move- 
ments of the body are produced by the alternate con- 
traction and relaxation of the muscles. 
Mary.—What do you mean, Father, by alternato 
contraction and relaxation ? 
Father.—I mean that the muscle first contracts or 
draws itself up, and then relaxes, or extends itself. 
And this alternate action, first contracting and then 
relaxing, produces each and every movement of which 
the body, or any part of it, is capable. 
Fred.—Do you mean to sav Father, that when I RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
61 
How muscles produce motion. 
run, the muscles move my legs, or when I raise a 
weight with my hands, the muscles move both my 
hands and the weight; that when I talk, the muscles 
move my tongue and lips, or when I breathe, the 
muscles move my lungs ? 
Father.—Yes, Frederick, that is what I mean to 
say. And it is done, as I have before said, by the 
contraction and relaxation of the muscles. 
Fred.—I do not see how the contraction and relax- 
ation of the muscles can produce these movements. 
I wish you would explain it, Father. 
Father.—I will do so with pleasure. You recollect 
I told you that towards the ends, the muscles were so 
arranged as to form tendons or cords, and that these 
tendons were firmly attached to the bones. 
Fred.—Yes, Father, 1 recollect that, but I cannot 
see that that explains it. I wish that you— 
Fig. 18. 
MUSCLES OF THE ARM, AND THEIR MODE OF ACTION. 
Fig. 18. 1, is the bone of the arm above the elbow; 2. one of the bones below 
the elbow; 8, the muscle which bends the elbow; 4,5, attachments of muscle to 
bones; 6, the muscle that extends the elbow; 7, attachments to elbow; 8. 
weight in hand The muscle, 3, contracts at the central part, or swell, and 
brings the hand up to 9,10. 62 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Father.—Be patient, my son, and I will give you 
a full explanation : I will take the fore-arm and elbow 
joint, for an illustration of tlic manner in which the 
muscles move the limbs and body, (See Fig. 18.) 
The tendon of one end of the large muscle on the 
inside of the arm, is attached to the shoulder bones, 
where it remains firmly fixed, while the tendon of the 
other end passes over the elbow joint, and is attached 
to the bones of the fore-arm an inch or two from the 
joint. 
Fred.—O, Father, I sec now how it is. Will you 
let mo explain it ? 
Father.—Certainly, 
Fred.—Well, Father, you say that the tendon ol 
one end of the muscle of the arm is firmly attached 
to the shoulder bone, so that that cannot move. Now 
if the muscle contracts and becomes shorter, it must 
draw up the tendon of the lower end of the muscle 
which is attached to the bones of the fore-arm, and ol 
course will draw the fore-arm up with it. Is that 
right? 
Father.—That is correct, and is very well explained. 
The muscle being shortened by contraction draws the 
bone with it to which it is attached. This is the 
principle on which all the joints of the body arc 
moved. 
Frank.—Docs every muscle move a bone when it 
contracts ? You say that there are live hundred and 
Muscular motion explained. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
What produces muscular contraction. 
twenty seven muscles, and only two hundred and 
forty bones for them to move. I do not see what so 
many muscles have to do. 
Father.—Some of the muscles have no connection 
with the bones. Some organs of the body are com- 
posed mostly of muscle, as the heart; and the action 
produced by the contraction of the muscles of such 
organs is exerted upon the organ itself. But all the 
movements of the body, as I have before explained, 
are produced by the muscles. And as wonderful as 
it may appear, muscles are provided, and so placed 
and arranged in different parts of the body, as to 
produce every conceivable movement of which it is 
capable. 
Mary.—Will you please tell us what causes the 
muscles to contract, or why a muscle contracts at one 
time and not at another ? 
Father.—Muscular contraction is produced by ap- 
plication to the muscle, of its proper stimulus. The 
muscles that elevate the arm, for example, are called 
into, or are stimulated to action by the influence of 
the will or mind, and the result is, the arm is raised. 
Withdraw the stimulus or influence from the muscles, 
by an effort of the will, and they relax and the hand falls. 
Mary.—Do the muscles move just because the 
mind wants them to, and just where the mind wishes? 
Father.—Yes, my daughter, all the muscles that 
are under the control of the will. ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Voluntary and involuntary muscles. 
Mary.—Well, are they not all under the control of 
the will ? 
Father.—Why no, my child. Only a part of the 
muscles are under the control of the will; and they 
arc those that move the arms, fingers, feet, tongue, 
etc., and arc called voluntary muscles. Many of 
the most important muscles of the body act entirely 
independent of the will, under the influence of their 
appropriate stimulus, as the heart. These are called 
the involuntary muscles. With the voluntary muscles 
we perform all the duties and offices of life; such as 
walking, talking, writing, the execution of the me- 
chanic arts, indeed all acts of which we are capable. 
These muscles are incapable of the least action, only 
as they arc stimulated or excited by the will. 
For example—no one can rise from his seat until 
he decides or wills to do so. Nor can he move a foot, 
or raise a hand, or speak a word, or perform the most 
trivial act, only as the will directs. The mind issues 
the edict, and the muscles instantly obey the mandate, 
as if they had heard a sovereign and irresistible call. 
For example. I wish to raise my hand above my 
head and instantly my hand goes up. I wish to take 
something from the floor, and my whole body is in- 
stantly bent forward. I wish to look to the right or 
left, and as quick as thought my head and eyes arc 
turned in that direction. 
Fred.—Why Father, how do the muscles know 
what the mind wishes them to do? RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
65 
God’s goodness manifested. 
Father.—The wish or intention of the mind is con- 
veyed to the muscles by, or through the medium of 
the nerves, which I will explain when we come to 
converse upon the nervous system. As I have already 
stated, the will has no control whatever, over the in- 
voluntary muscles. They act and perform their office 
whether we will or not. Some of these muscles or 
organs are the heart, the stomach, the bowels, tho 
liver, kidneys, &c. Now mark the goodness of tho 
Creator manifested in this arrangement. The mus- 
cles, upon the regular and uniform action of which, 
life every moment depends, are placed beyond our 
control. Our Maker knew that it would not do for us 
to have the control of them, because we should forget 
or neglect to keep them in motion or action, and death 
would be the immediate result. Or, were it possible 
for us to keep them in motion, we could attend to 
nothing else; nor could we enjoy the repose of sleep 
for a single moment of our whole life. We should 
be under the necessity of remaining awake to keep tho 
heart and other organs in motion. 
Frank.—How strange, Father, that I never thought 
of this before ! How good our heavenly Father is, 
to make a part of the muscles and organs of our bodies 
so that they will act independently. 
Mary.—Yes, Father, and how good he was to make 
the muscles and organs on which life depends perform 
their appropriate duties themselves. The feet, and ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Great power of the muscles. 
hands, and head, and tongue and eyes, and many 
other parts of our bodies, we can move ourselves just 
when we wish, and it would have been of little con- 
sequence if our Creator had made these so that they 
would sometimes go themselves without our care. 
Father.—My child, you greatly mistake. Had the 
muscles which are now under the control of the will 
been placed beyond its control, our life would be in 
constant and equal danger. We should not be safe 
for a single moment. We should never know, that 
we should not the next moment, by the involuntary 
action of the muscles, be thrown into the lire, or into 
the water, or under the cars, or into some other place 
equally fatal to life. Should a man attempt to shave 
himself, he would be quite as likely to cut his throat 
as his beard. Indeed, every act of life would bo 
fraught with peril. 
Mary.—O, Father, I now see my mistake. 
Father.—The muscles are endowed with the power 
of contracting with great force. The muscles that 
move the elbow, for example, are capable of an action 
equal to one thousand pounds weight. 
Fred.—That seems to me impossible, Father! I 
do not see how you can know that it is so; certainly 
you cannot prove it, for no one will pretend that he 
can raise a thousand pounds weight with one hand. 
Father.—You should be careful my son, how you 
make your want of knowledge of a fact, proof that RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
67 
Great power of the muscles. 
the fact does not exist, or because you see no way to 
prove it, that therefore it cannot be proved; for the 
statement I have made is capable of arithmetical 
demonstration. 
Fred.—Well, Father, if you will prove, by the use 
of figures, that the muscles which move the elbow are 
capable of acting with the force of a thousand pounds, 
you will do what appears to me an impossibility, and 
I will never again doubt your ability to do any thing 
you may attempt. But I would like to know by what 
rule in arithmetic you think it can be proved; whether 
by some of the compound rules, or the rule of three, 
or single or double position; I think it will be by 
position, for I recollect, that in solving a problem by 
that rule, the first thing is to suppose or guess at the 
number, and then proceed upon that supposition, and, 
if possible, show that you have guessed right. Now 
is that the way you are going to do, Father? 
Father.—No, my son, I shall have no guessing 
about it. I shall prove it by the rule of three, and 
as you have made some proficiency in that rule, I hope 
to make the proof clear. 
Fred.—1 hope you will, Father, but I do not see 
how it is possible, for I recollect that in the rule of 
three, or rule of proportion as it is sometimes called, 
there arc three numbers given to find a fourth, which 
bears the same proportion to one of the given numbers, 
that the other two given numbers bear to each other, 
Am I right, Father? 68 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Power of the muscles demonstrated. 
Father.—Yes, you are right in regard to your state- 
ments about the rule of three. 
Fred.—Well then, I would be glad to know how 
you will get three numbers to work by, out of one 
muscle. I am really feeling a great curiosity to know 
how you will prove the strength of a muscle by the 
rule of three. It seems to mo altogether a new use 
for that rule. 
Father.—I see that you arc again making your 
want of knowledge of a fact, proof that the fact docs 
not exist. 
Frank.—It seems to me, Father, just as Frederick 
has expressed it. I do not see how it is possible to 
prove any thing about the strength of a muscle, by 
figures. But I know you would not say so if it were 
not true, nor would you attempt to prove it unless 
you could do so. Now, Father, do not keep us in the 
dark about it any longer, but please inform us how 
you will prove that the muscles of the arm are endowed 
with such strength. 
Fred.—You appear so easy, Father, and uncon- 
cerned about your ability to prove what you have 
stated, that I already begin to fear that I shall be 
ashamed that I have expressed so much doubt. But 
do let us know how you will prove it. 
Father.—If you will give close attention, my chil- 
dren, I will give you the proof. You recollect I told 
you that the tendon of the lower end of the muscle of RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
69 
Power of the muscles demonstrated. 
the arm, passes across the elbow joint and is attached 
to the bones of the fore-arm about one inch from the 
joint, (See Fig. 18.) 
Fred.—Yes, Father, I recollect that, but I do not 
see how that proves any thing. 
Father.—You shall know more about it if you will 
be attentive. I was going to say that a man’s arm 
from the elbow to the fingers is about eighteen or 
twenty inches in length. Now' if the tendon of the 
muscle is attached to the bone one inch from the joint, 
and if from the joint to the fingers is twenty inches, 
can you tell me how much force must be exerted by 
the tendon or muscle to raise a pound weight in the 
hand? 
Fred.—Yes, Father, that is easy enough. It would 
require a force of the muscle equal to twenty pounds. 
Father.—Very well, that is correct. Now would 
it not be an easy thing for a stout laboring man to take 
hold of the ring of a fifty or sixty pound weight and 
raise it till the elbow joint is bent at right angle ? 
Fred.—Why yes, I think I could do that myself. 
Father.—Very well. I will now give you a state- 
ment of the problem in the rule of three, in which 
you will find my "three numbers.” If it require an 
action or force of the muscle of the arm equal to 
twenty pounds weight to raise one pound in the hand, 
how much force will it require to raise fifty pounds. 
Fred.—Why it will require fifty times as much, or ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Power of the muscles demonstrated. 
fifty times twenty. But, Father, I see yon mean that 
I shall solve the problem myself, and give the prool 
which I have been so long waiting for you to give. 
Father.—Never mind that my son, if you get the 
proof. Now will you tell me how many fifty times 
twenty are ? 
Fred.—One thousand. 
Father.—Well my children, do you now feel satis- 
fied that the strength or power of a muscle can be 
proved by figures ? 
Children.—Yes, Father, and in the future we will 
believe every thing you say, however improbable it 
may appear. 
Father.—I do not intend to say any thing that is 
not true, but I do not wish you to believe what to you 
appears impossible or even improbable, merely because 
I assert it. I may not be able in all cases to give as 
clear proof of the correctness of what I state, as I 
have in this; but I shall always be ready to give you 
my reasons for believing what I assert. CONVERSATION V. 
THE MUSCLES — CONTINUED. 
The flexor and extensor muscles—Their manner of action in 
MOVING TIIE JOINTS—TnE FLEXOR MUSCLES MORE POWERFUL THAN 
THE EXTENSOR—THE MUSCLE8 CAPABLE OF ACTING -WITH GREAT 
RAPIDITY—THE PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS EXPRESSED BY THE MUS- 
CLES—Some muscles partly voluntary and partly involun- 
tary, OR MIXED. 
Father.—In our last conversation I explained the 
manner in which the muscles move the joints. I think 
you understand the principle. I wish now to ask a 
question which either one of you is at liberty to 
answer. When any joint of the body has been bent 
by the contraction of the muscle, in what way is it 
straightened ? 
Fred.—I cannot tell, unless the muscle, by relaxing, 
presses it back. 
Father.—A muscle has power only in one direction, 
and that is in drawing itself up by contraction. 
Frank.—I suppose that when it relaxes, the limb 
falls back into its place. 
Father.—That would depend upon the position of 
the limb. If the elbow should be bent while the arm 
was hanging by the side, it would fall back when the 
muscle relaxed. But how could it straighten itself 
were the arm raised above the head ? 72 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Action of the flexor and extensor muscles. 
Franic.—I cannot tell. 
Father.—Well, Mary, what is yonr opinion? Can 
you not contrive some way to straighten the limbs 
after they have been bent ? 
Mary.—I do not know that I can tell how it is 
done, but I can say how I think it might be. 
Father*—Well, my child, let us hear. 
Mary.—I think there might bo muscles on the op- 
posite side of the limb, so that when the one which 
had bent it, relaxes, the one on the other side might 
contract and draw it back. 
Father.—What do you think, Frederick and Frank, 
of Mary’s plan ? 
Fred,—I think it must be the right one. 
Frank.—I think so, too. Is it right? 
Father.—Yes, my children, what Mary has sug- 
gested, is that which our heavenly Father has adopted. 
Every joint in our body has two muscles which act in 
opposition to each other; one relaxing as the other 
contracts ; the one which had bent the joint relaxes, 
and the one on the opposite side contracting, brings 
the limb back to its natural position. The muscle 
which bends the limb is called the Flexor, and the 
one which straightens it, the Extensor. These mus- 
cles always act in unison with each other; one relax- 
ing while the other contracts. And it is a very inter- 
esting fact, that although both arc voluntary, yet wo 
cannot, by any effort of the will, cause them to con- RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
73 
Flexor most powerful. 
tract at the same time. Thus kindly has our Creator 
guarded against the sad confusion that otherwise must 
have ensued, (See Fig. 18—6, page 61.) 
Fred.—Are these two opposite muscles capable of 
exerting the same degree of force ? 
Father.—No, there is a vast difference in their 
power; the flexor which bends the joint, always pos- 
sess a vast deal more power than the extensor which 
straightens it. The fingers afford a very striking 
illustration of this truth, for their principal force or 
power, being on the inside, is produced by the flexor 
muscles, while the extensor on the back, with which 
we straighten them, possess but a slight degree of 
power. 
Frank.—But why, Father, is there so much greater 
strength on the inside than on the outside of the 
fingers ? 
Father.—For the simple reason that the inside is 
precisely whore it is needed. If you attempt to re- 
move a barrel of flour on a wheelbarrow, you will find 
where the strength of the fingers is required. And 
as the hand is so important a member of the body, 
was it not kind in our Creator to place the power of 
the hand where it was most needed ? That we may 
see more clearly the value of this arrangement and 
the goodness that dictated it, let us reverse it, and 
place the power of the inside of the fingers on the 
outside, and that of the outside on the inside. In that 74 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Reflections on God’s goodness. 
case what a waste would exist oil the outside, and 
deficiency on the inside; and how almost utterly 
useless the hands would be. By thus examining the 
subject, every reflecting mind must be forcibly im- 
pressed with the wisdom and goodness of the Creator. 
Fred.—I think so too, Father; and do you not 
believe it is very displeasing to God, when he has 
done so much, and been so careful for our happiness, 
that we do not see it, and consequently never thank 
him for it? You know how displeasing it is to us, 
when we make a great effort to do some kind act to a 
person, to have them take no notice of it, nor thank 
us for it. 
Father.—Yes, my son, it is so, and I am glad to 
hear you express yourself in this way. The great 
Galen, one of the ancient "Fathers of Medicine,” was 
converted from infidelity by the study of Anatomy and 
Physiology, and wrote an Ode of Praise to his Maker. 
And I do not see how any one can learn these wonder- 
ful things of God’s goodness manifested in the forma- 
tion of our bodies, without being impressed with 
devout feelings of love and gratitude to Him. One 
of the direct commands of the Bible is, " Consider the 
works of God.” " Consider,”—study, reflect, meditate 
upon-his works ;—as direct a command as, " Thou shalt 
not kill.” And which of all his works, is more proper 
or profitable to study, than our own wonderful bodily 
structure. Perhaps in no department of his work, 
can we sec more clearly what he is, by what he does. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
75 
How different joints are moved. 
Frank.—I do not understand, by the explanation 
you have given, how the muscles can move the 
shoulder joint. Can they, if placed on each side, 
produce all its motions ? 
Father.—At the shoulder, and all other ball and 
socket joints, there is a very different arrangement of 
the muscles and tendons. There are several muscles 
at the shoulder joint, which are placed in the positions, 
and draw in the various directions necessary to pro- 
duce all the motions which the joint will allow. 
The eye affords another example of the same wise 
arrangement. There are six muscles attached to the 
eye-ball, which are so placed as to pull from different 
points, and thereby move the eye in every possible 
direction. 
In some parts of the body the muscle is placed at a 
distance from the part where its action is wanted; the 
same as a steam engine is sometimes stationed a 
distance from the load it is designed to move. 
The muscles which move the fingers, are not placed 
in the palms, or on the back of the hands, but in the 
arm, extending up as far as the elbow, and are con- 
nected with the fingers by long tendons which pass 
under the ligaments at the wrist and along over the 
hand to the fingers, and joints of the fingers which 
they move. The muscles which move the toes are not 
placed in the feef, but in the calf of the leg. 
Fred.—Why are these muscles placed in the arms 
and legs, and not in the hands and feet? 76 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Capacity of the muscles to be educated. 
Father.—I can conceive no other reason for this 
arrangement than the circumstance that if they had 
been placed in the hands and feet, they would have 
rendered them large and clumsy, and destitute of the 
beautiful proportions which they now present. 
The muscles may be trained or educated to act with 
great precision or exactness. The woodman, for ex- 
ample, will strike with the edge of his axe, any number 
of times, in the same place. The carpenter and smith 
will strike with the hammer with equal precision, and 
the lady will sweep the keys of the piano with great 
rapidity, touching every key with the utmost exactness. 
The muscles are capable also of contracting and 
relaxing with great rapidity. Fifteen hundred letters 
may be uttered distinctly in a minute, " the pronun- 
ciation of each, requiring both the contraction and 
relaxation of the same muscles, making three thou- 
sand actions in one minute.” 
In some of the inferior animals and insects, the 
rapid motion of the muscles far surpasses those of man. 
Who can conceive of the rapid motion of the wings 
of the humming bird, which must be several thousand 
a minute. Yet every movement is produced by the 
alternate contraction and relaxation of the muscles 
that move the wings. 
Frank.—Is this possible, Father? 
Father.—It is not only possible, 'but it is certain. 
What else can move the wings, as all the movements EENDEKED ATTRACTIVE. 
77 
Emotions expressed by the muscles. 
of the body are produced by the contraction and relax- 
ation of the muscles. 
Frank.—What wonderful perfection this shows in 
the works of God ! 
Father.—The passions and emotions are also ex- 
pressed by the motion and particular conformation and 
position of the muscles. Thus one particular position 
of the muscles of the face will produce a smile, others, 
scorn, contempt, anger, grief, pleasure, or pain. 
Mary.—How wonderful, that the muscles should tell 
our thoughts and feelings. 
Father.—It is, my daughter, and much might be 
said upon the subject, but as I intend in a future con- 
versation to say more about the face, I will not enlarge 
here. 
I have told you that the muscles are either vol- 
untary, and under the control of the will, or involun- 
tary, and independent of it. There are a few 
exceptions, the most important of which, perhaps, are 
the following. Those that move the lungs in the act 
of respiration or breathing, are neither voluntary or 
involuntary, absolutely; yet, to a certain extent, they 
are both. The act of breathing goes on every moment 
of life, without any care or effort of ours, although 
more than a hundred muscles are employed every 
time we breathe ; yet the manner of breathing, as to 
its being fast or slow, and at regular or irregular in- 
tervals, is, within certain limits, entirely under our 
control. 78 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The Creator’s goodness evinced 
Fred.—I see, Father, that it is so ; hut I should 
never think of attaching any great importance to the 
fact that we are capable of breathing fast or slowly, 
as we please. Do you think it shows any particular 
benevolence in the Creator ? 
Father.—I do. This seems to me one of the clear- 
est proofs of goodness, and, if I may so speak, of 
thoughtful kindness on his part. He appears to have 
seen that our convenience and happiness required such 
an arrangement, and to have stepped aside from his 
ordinary course, and formed the lungs and their action 
on a principle differing greatly from most other organs. 
Fred.—I cannot see how we can be any happier 
for being able to breathe fast or slowly, than we should 
bo, if we breathed all the time alike, and at regular 
intervals. I feel a great deal better when I breathe 
so, for it is only when I have been running, or taking 
some other violent exercise, that I breathe so fast. 
Father.—Respiration or breathing takes place in an 
adult, about eighteen times a minute, or once in three 
and one-third seconds, and in a quiescent and healthy 
state, at about regular intervals. Now had the movo- 
ment of the lungs, or manner of breathing, been, like 
the action of the heart, placed beyond our control, 
who can estimate the sad results that would have fol- 
lowed. 
Frank.—While you and Frederick have been talk- 
ing about it, I have been trying to think what incon- RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
79 
by the endowment of the lungs. 
venicnce it could cause to be obliged to breathe at 
regular intervals, and I am as much at a loss as Fred- 
erick. I know wo can breathe at regular or long or 
short intervals, as we please, but I never thought 
there was any particular design in it, or that any sad 
results would have followed had it been otherwise. 
You speak as if the effects would have been dreadful; 
please tell us what they are. 
Father.—I will name a few of them. It would 
have been dangerous to attempt to swallow our food, 
lest a portion of it would have been drawn into the 
lungs, producing instant suffocation, if not death. 
Frank.—How so? 
Father.—You kiiowwe cannot swallow and breathe 
at the same time. And if we had no control over 
our breathing, we might be obliged to inhale, or take 
in breath, at the instant of swallowing food, which, 
of course, would draw it into the lungs. But now, 
having control of the lungs, we can cease breathing 
while we swallow, and thereby avoid all danger of 
suffocation. Again, the use of the voice in singing, 
would have been impossible; consequently the sweet 
strains of music from the human voice, never would 
have charmed our ears, and stirred the deep emotions 
of the soul; nor should we have been thrilled with 
the eloquence of the orator, or melted with the pathos 
of the pulpit. All the tones of the voice would have 
been measured and monotonous; each sound would 80 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
have continued less than two seconds, and been suc- 
ceeded by a pause of equal length to take in breath. 
For example. With the present endowment or capac- 
ity of the lungs, I can repeat the following sentence 
with one breath:—Honor thy father and thy mother 
that thy days may be long on the land which tho 
Lord thy God giveth thee. But were I obliged to 
breathe at equal intervals, I should be necessitated to 
repeat it in this way :—Honor thy father and thy 
mother that thy days may be long on the 
land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. 
There could be no such thing as modulation, and 
the various intonations of the voice, upon which the 
pleasures of social converse, as well as public discourse, 
so much depend. In singing, no sound or strain could 
have continued more than two seconds, and then a 
pause of equal length would have ensued; whereas 
now, the strains of the voice may be prolonged almost 
indefinitely, and the time employed in taking breath 
is scarcely perceptible. In reading, and in common 
conversation, instead of giving the sense by proper 
punctuation and emphasis, all would be broken into 
short sentences, with a pause between each to take 
breath, as in the example I have given. 
Now, tell me, my dear children; can you see no 
benevolent design of the Creator, or manifestation of 
goodness, in the present endowment of the lungs? 
Children.—O, Father, you prove every thing you 
Sad results, had the lungs been constructed otherwise. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
81 
Sad results, had the lungs been constructed otherwise. 
attempt. We should be stupid indeed, if we did not 
see the truth, and feel the force of what you say. 
Father.—There are other muscles, partly voluntaiy 
and partly involuntary, or mixed, as they arc called, 
whose action I shall explain to you at the proper time 
in future conversations. CONVERSATION VI. 
THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 
The brain—TnE spinal cord—The cranial nerves—The spinas 
nerves—Nerves of motion, and nerves of sensation—Their 
MODE OF ACTION—NERVOUS FLUID—INTERESTING FACTS EXPLAINED, 
ETC. 
Father.—In the previous conversations I have given 
you a brief description of the bones, and the joints 
by which they arc united to form the human skeleton. 
I have also described the muscles, both voluntary, 
involuntary and mixed. You recollect I stated that 
the bones had no power of motion; that the muscles 
alone produced all the movements of the body; that 
they were capable of acting with great power, &c. I 
am now about to make a statement whieh you will 
think a contradiction to what I have before said. It 
is this—the muscles, in and of themselves, have no 
more power of motion than the bones. 
Fred.—I should think your statements contradic- 
tory, Father, did I not recollect that you said, that 
although the muscles are capable of acting with great 
power, yet they could act only under the influence of 
their proper stimulus. Now I suppose you mean ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
83 
The nervous system. 
Fig. 19.—THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 84 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
See, hear, feel, taste and smell with the nerves. 
that the muscles possess the power, but must be 
stimulated to action in order to act. 
Father.—That is correct, and I am pleased that 
you so readily comprehend my meaning. It is the 
nerves that form the medium of communication be- 
tween the mind and muscles. Were we destitute of 
nerves, we should be incapable of motion or sensa- 
tion, and could neither move, feel, see, hear, taste 
nor smell., 
Fred.—Why, Father, I thought we could see with 
our eyes, and hear with our ears, and taste with the 
mouth, and smell with the nose. And do you say it 
is with the nerves we do all this ? Why I know that 
I see with my eyes, for I cannot see with them closed, 
nor hear with my cars stopped. This is quite a new 
idea ! It seems to me that you place a greater value 
upon the nerves than upon any other, or all other 
parts of our bodies. 
Father.—Do not get excited, my son. All you 
have said is true, and yet it is true that we see, hear, 
feel, taste and smell with the nerves. And as to the 
value I place upon them, you may be assured we can 
never value them too highly. 
Fred.—I have no doubt, Father, that you can ex- 
plain this, as you have before explained what to me 
appeared contradictory. But I really feel greatly 
interested to have you do so. 
Father.—It will afford me great pleasure to gratify RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
85 
See, hear, feel, taste and smell with the nerves. 
your wishes, and at the same time give you instruction 
in so interesting a branch of knowledge. 
I will now proceed to explain, as far as the subject 
of our conversation requires, the structure and func- 
tions of the nervous system. 
Fig. 20. 
Fig. 20. 6, first pair; 7, second pair ; 9, third pair; 10, fourth pair; 11, fifth 
pair; 12, sixth pair ; 13, seventh pair; 14, eighth pair; 15, ninth pair; 16, tenth 
pair; 17, eleventh pair ; 18, twelfth pair. 
THE CRANIAL NERVES. 
The nervous system consists of the brain, spinal 
cord or marrow, and forty-three pairs of nerves, 
twelve of which proceed from the brain, and are 
called the cranial nerves; and thirty-one from the 
spinal cord, and are called the spinal nerves. 
The Brain is a soft, pulpy mass, of a greyish white 86 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Cranial nerves. 
Fig. 21. 
THE SPINAL NERVES. 
Fig. 21. Thirty-one pairs connected with the spinal cord. Each pair has two 
roots, a motor and sensitive; C, motor; arising from the anterior or front col- 
umns of the cord; D, the sensitive root springing from the posterior columns. 
A, is a section of the cord, surrounded by its sheath; B, is the spinal, nerve, 
formed by the union of the motor and sensitive roots. After the union, the 
nerve, with its motor and sensitive filaments, divides and subdivides as it passes 
on, and is distributed to the tissues of the several organs. 
color, and is contained in the cavity of the craniur 
or skull. 
It is divided into two parts, one called Cer'-e-brum, 
the other Cer-e-bel'-lum, or the great and little brain; 
the cerebrum being about seven times greater than 
the cerebellum. 
The cerebrum occupies all that portion of the skull 
which lies above the level of the ears, and is the seal 
of intellect. 
The cerebellum, or little brain, occupies the lowci 
and back part of the head, and is separated from the 
cerebrum by a membrane. It is supposed to be the 
seat of the animal propensities. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
87 
Cranial nerves. 
Fig. 22. 
Fig. 22. The skull bones and membranes being removed. The scalp turned 
down is represented by A, A: E, E, E, show the cut edge of the bones; C, is 
the dura mata, drawn up with a hook; F, the convolutions of the brain. 
THE BRAIN. 
There is also the Me-dul'-la Ob-lon-ga-ta, which is 
the top of the spinal cord. It is regarded as a portion 
of the brain, being enclosed within the skull. It is 
made up of three pairs of bodies, being so united as 
to form a bulb. 
The brain is invested or covered with a firm mem- 
brane called Du'-ra Ma'-ta, and also with the Pi'-a 
Mal-ta, which is a broad net of blood-vessels that ex- 
tend through the different parts of the brain to supply 
it with blood. Enveloping the brain, and reflected 
upon the inner surface of the dura mata, is a serous 
membrane called the A-rach'-noid. 88 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Spinal cord and nerves. 
The brain is divided into right and left hemispheres, 
and each hemisphere into three lobes. All the surface 
of the two hemispheres is divided into convolutions, 
varying in size, and more or less projecting, each of 
which is supposed to be the seat of some faculty or 
quality of the mind, (See Fig. 22, page 87). 
The convolutions arc separated from each other by 
winding furrows, into which the pia mata descends, 
while the arachnoid coat, and the dura mata envelope 
the whole brain. 
The spinal cord is contained in the cavity of the 
spinal canal. It consists of both sensitive and motive 
filaments, distinct in the cord, but united after leaving 
it, forming mixed nerves, which I shall soon explain. 
The nerves which proceed from the spinal cord, 
supply the muscles of at least nine-tenths of the whole 
body, and arc distributed upon the neck, trunk and 
extremities. They are called the motor and sensitive 
nerves, or the nerves of motion and sensation. 
The cranial nerves, which proceed directly from the 
brain, are distributed mostly upon the head and upper 
part of the body; as the optic nerves to the eye, giving 
vision or sight; the auditory nerves to the ears, giving 
hearing; the olfactory nerves to the nose, giving the 
sense of smelling; the gustatory nerves to the mouth, 
giving the sense of taste. 
Fred.—O, Father, I now understand what you 
mean by seeing, hearing, tasting and smelling with RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
89 
Function of the nerves. 
the nerves. Yon mean that the eyes, ears, etc., are 
supplied with nerves which give them the power of 
seeing and hearing. 
Father.—That is correct, and I will explain it more 
fully in future conversations. 
The nerves are white cords. They divide and sub- 
divide into branches so minute as to be invisible to 
the naked eye, and form a network over the whole 
body, so perfect that the point of the finest needle 
cannot be introduced under the skin, without touching 
and wounding one or more. They form a medium of 
communication between one organ and another, and 
connect all organs and parts of the body with the 
brain, which may be regarded as the origin and center 
of the nervous system. 
Frank.—You say, Father, that the spinal nerves 
are nerves of motion and sensation. Are not the 
nerves which extend from the brain to the eye, ear, 
nose and mouth, capable also of feeling or motion? 
Father.—No ; these nerves can perform no function 
but the special one for which they were designed; the 
optic nerves, that of seeing, the auditory nerveshearing, 
the olfactory nerves smelling, and the gustatory nerves 
tasting. Should these nerves be touched with the 
point of a needle, or irritated in any other way, it 
would cause no pain nor any convulsive motion, as it 
does in the motive and sensitive nerves. But the 
effect of the irritation and injury of these nerves, would 90 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Nerves in pairs. 
be to injure or destroy the function of the organ for 
which they arc specially designed—the eyes, ears, etc. 
Three pairs of the cranial nerves, however, are capable 
of sensation, and of some degree of motion. The 
fifth pair is capable of very intense pain. It is the 
sensitive nerve of the face, and is the seat of that 
painful disease called neuralgia, or tic douloureux. 
Frank.—I think, Father, we understand your ex- 
planation of the action of the nerves which proceed 
from the brain, and I feel very thankful to you for it; 
but I do not quite understand about the spinal nerves, 
which you say are nerves of motion and sensation. I 
wish you would explain to us how these nerves pro- 
duce motion and feeling. 
Father.—I will do so, my son, with pleasure. You 
recollect I told you that the nerves were in pairs— 
that is, a pair consists of two distinct nerves, and 
each nerve of a pair is totally different in its action 
or function, from the other nerve of the same pair; 
one being a sensitive nerve, whose function is to pro- 
duce feeling, the other a motive nerve whose function 
is to produce motion. The sensitive nerve conveys 
to the brain and mind, any impression made upon 
that part of the body upon which the nerve is dis- 
tributed ; and the motive nerve conveys from the brain 
to the surface or extremities of the body, the intention 
of the mind ; the action of one being from the surface 
and extremities of the body inward to the brain, the RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
91 
Action of the nerves. 
The nerves a telegraph. 
other outward from the brain to the surface and ex- 
tremities To illustrate. If I place my hand upon a 
hot iron, the effect,—the sensation of pain—-is con- 
veyed fruxu the hand to the brain and mind, by the 
sensitive nerve; and the intention of the mind is con- 
veyed from the brain to the hand by the motive nerve. 
In this case, the sensitive nerve conveys to the brain 
and mind, the intelligence that something is injuring 
or destroying the Kvid. This information is conveyed 
to the mind, that it May decide what shall be done to 
save the hand from threatened destruction; and the 
mind sends back the Oiler to the muscles, through the 
motive nerve, to remove the hand from the iron. The 
muscles instantly obey the command, and thus the 
hand is saved. 
The action of these is with the speed of light- 
ning. If you have any doubts about it, I will tell you 
how you can remove them, and also prove the truth 
of what I here state. touch a finger to a hot 
iron, and see how long a time will be required to con- 
vey the fact to the brain, and receive back an order 
to remove it. And yet, all I have here stated of the 
action of the nerves, must take place, before tho 
finger can be removed from its painful contact with 
the iron. 
This is the first, and most perfect telegraph line 
ever established; one set of wires (nerves) to convey 
intelligence from the surface and extremities to the 92 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Action of the nerves. 
brain; and another set to carry back the order or in- 
tention of the mind, to the surface and extremities. 
In this way, the condition and wants of every part 
and organ of the body are made known to the mind. 
The sensation in the stomach, which we call hunger, 
which is simply a demand of the system for nutriment, 
is transmitted to the mind through the sensitive 
nerves, and the mind sends back to the stomach, 
through the motive nerves, the order to take food, 
and obedience to the order at once removes the sen- 
sation of hunger. I step upon a pointed nail which 
pierces the foot, and the fact is instantly transmitted, 
or telegraphed to the brain, and the brain, as quick 
as thought, sends back a dispatch, ordering the mus- 
cles what to do. 
An interesting fact which I must not fail to mention 
in this connection, is the following:—The sensitive 
nerve not only conveys to the mind the fact that a part 
of the system" is in danger of being injured or destroyed, 
but it conveys also the particular nature of the injury; 
or, in other words, the sensation or pain produced by 
the injury, informs the mind what the injury is. 
Otherwise, the mind could not act intelligibly in re- 
turning an order to the part, what to do to avert the 
threatened injury. 
Fred.—How can that be, Father? 
Father.—You know, my son, that different sensa- 
tions are produced by different causes. If you should RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
93 
Cause of different sensations. 
place the bare foot upon a hot iron, or live coal, the 
sensation would be very different from that produced 
by stepping on ice, or into the snow. In like manner, 
different diseases, and different locations of disease, 
produce very different sensations, and thus suggest 
the proper remedy. The headache is a very different 
pain from that produced by gout or rheumatism, and 
that caused by neuralgia is totally unlike that pro- 
duced by fever. If painful sensations from whatever 
cause were the same, when the causes producing them 
are so various, how could the mind be informed of the 
true cause? and if not informed of the cause, how 
could it direct to the remedy ? 
Fred.—O, Father ! I feel deeply interested in the 
information you are giving us in regard to the action 
of the nerves. It is new to me, although I have read 
something about them. But there is one thing I wish 
you would explain to us—not that I doubt the truth 
of it, but I wish to know what proof there is. I refer 
to the statement you made, that one nerve of each pair 
is a sensitive nerve, and conveys impressions to the 
brain; and the other a motive nerve, convey big back 
the intention of the mind. Now I wish to know how 
that fact can be proved ? 
Father.—Your queries arc very propel, and I 
intended to explain the interesting fact, and give the 
proof, if you had not asked it. 
In explaining this, I must first state, that nervous 94 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Nervous fluid—its existence proved. 
action is produced by the transmission through the 
nerve, of what is called the nervous fluid, or nervous 
force, which some suppose to be identical with, or to 
strongly resemble the electric fluid. What the exact 
nature of the nervous fluid is, has not yet been fully 
decided; but one thing is certain, to prevent or in- 
terrupt its circulation, utterly destroys the action of 
the nerves, both of the sensitive and motive. For 
example :—If a ligature or thread be tied around the 
sensitive nerve that is distributed upon the hand, so 
as to cut off the communication between it and the 
brain, the sensation of the hand would thereby be 
entirely destroyed. In that condition, if the hand 
should be burned off, no sensation or pain would be 
produced. 
If the motive nerve should be tied, all power of 
motion would cease. In that case, if the hand should 
be placed in fire, one would writhe with the pain, but 
could no more remove the hand than they could re- 
move a mountain. These facts have been proved in 
numerous instances by experiments on animals. 
Mary.—This is wonderful, Father. I am interested 
and surprised at what you have told us about the 
nerves. 
Father.—My daughter, I have many facts yet to 
state, in regard to them, not less interesting and im- 
pressive than those I have been describing. 
I have stated that the spinal nerves were in pairs, EENDEBED ATTRACTIVE. 
95 
Union of motive and sensitive nerves. 
each pair consisting of a sensitive and a motive nerve. 
These nerves are separate as they leave the spine ; one, 
the motor, proceeding from the anterior or front, and the 
other, the sensitive, from the posterior or back side of 
the spinal column, (See Fig. 21, page 86) ; but they 
soon unite, and the nervous fibres or filaments of each 
nerve commingle so as to form, apparently, but one 
nerve. 
Frank.—Well, Father, if they unite and form one 
nerve, I suppose that nerve can be neither a sensitive 
nor a motive nerve ; and pray, what is it ? 
Fred.—I think you will find it difficult to answer 
Frank’s question; for I recollect you said that the 
spinal nerves were the sensitive and motive, and now 
you say they unite and form one, and that the fibres 
of each mingle and commingle together. I thought 
it very fine, when you had two distinct sets of nerves, 
but now you have mingled them all together, and, it 
seems to me, have just spoiled the whole, and I do not 
see what you are going to do with them. I suppose, 
however, you will find some way to explain, and bring 
it all right. 
Father.—In tracing out and explaining the works 
of the Creator, we shall never become perplexed, if 
our explanations and deductions are truthful. In the 
fact I have stated, and which you seem to think so 
perj lexing, we shall see the wise design and goodness 
of our heavenly Father. You recollect I told you 96 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Union of motive and sensitive nerves. 
that the nerves divide and subdivide into branches so 
minute as to be invisible to the naked eye, and form 
a network over the whole body. 
Fred.—Yes, Father, I recollect that, but I cannot 
see that that answers Frank’s question, or explains 
the matter in the least. If, after uniting near the spine 
and forming one nerve, they do divide into small 
branches, I suppose the fibres of each branch arc the 
same as the nerve was before it divided—part sensi- 
tive and part motive nerves. 
Father.—Yes, Frederick, that is the fact, and in 
this is to be seen the wise design of the Creator. 
Each branch, however minute the division, contains 
fibres of both the sensitive and the motive nerve, and 
the peculiar, and distinctive quality or character of 
each nerve still remains; that is, the fibres of the 
sensitive nerve are still sensitive, and those of the 
motive nerve arc still motive, (See Fig. 21, B, and 
the explanation, page 86). Now with this arrange- 
ment, suppose I prick a finger, and touch one of these 
nerves containing fibres of both the sensitive and 
motive nerve, the sensitive conveys the fact to the 
mind; but if there were no motive nerve connected 
with the sensitive which I had touched, how could the 
mind convey back its order to the point from which 
the sensation or pain proceeded? 
That we may see the more clearly the wisdom and 
goodness of this arrangement, we will suppose that RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
97 
Motive and sensitive nerves. 
the sensitive nerves of one pair is distributed to the 
right hand, and the motive nerves of the same pair to 
the left hand. In that case I accidentally place my 
right hand upon a hot iron. The sensitive nerves 
convey the fact to the mind, and the mind sends back 
the order to remove the hand; but as the brain or 
mind is not in communication by the motive nerves, 
with the right hand, but is with the left, the order 
goes off to the left hand, and I raise the left, but let 
the right remain on the iron. It is as if one residing 
in Boston, should receive a telegram from Providence, 
R. I., and should attempt to return an answer, but 
by some disarrangement of the wires, the answer goes 
off to New York. CONVEESATION VII. 
THE NEKVOUS SYSTEM—CONTINUED. 
Sensation of an organ or part, in proportion to the number 
OF NERVES DISTRIBUTED UPON IT—THE SENSATION GREATEST 
•WHERE MOST NEEDED—OBJECTIONS ANSWERED—EVERY NERVE A 
SENTINEL TO GUARD FROM DANGER, ETC. 
Father.—At our last conversation I made you 
acquainted with several interesting facts in regard to 
the nervous system. There are others not less im- 
pressive, which I have reserved for the present inter- 
view. 
Mary.—You told us so many wonderful things 
about the nerves, at our last meeting, which I had 
never known before, that I thought you had said all. 
But I am pleased to find there are other facts yet 
to learn; I feel so deeply interested in the subject. 
Father.—In those parts of the body where sensation 
is most needed, the nerves are most abundant; for 
the sensitiveness of any part or organ is in proportion 
to the number of nerves distributed upon it. 
Frank—What need is there, Father, that one part 
of the body should be more sensitive than another? 
Father.—For the reason, my son, that some parts 
or organs are used more frequently, and are more im- RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
99 
Nervous sensation greatest when most needed. 
portant in their use than others. For example:— 
The inside and ends of the fingers are far more sensi- 
tive than any other part of the hand, because we need 
to use the fingers to ascertain the quality or condition 
of bodies or things, as to their being soft or hard, 
cold or hot, rough or smooth, etc. And this sensi- 
tiveness of the fingers, is precisely where it is needed 
—where our convenience requires it should be. For 
who ever thinks of feeling an article with the back of 
the fingers to ascertain its quality ? This sensitive- 
ness is very acute and accurate. By it, the blind may 
be taught to read, and they may also be taught many 
of the mechanic arts. 
But its great value is seen in the hourly duties of 
life. The mind reaches out, as it were, through the 
ends of the fingers and makes itself acquainted with 
the form and quality of every thing within reach, and 
appropriates the knowledge thus obtained, to the 
safety and welfare of the system. 
Frank.—Since our last conversation, Father, I have 
been thinking over what you told us about the sensi- 
tive nerves—how they were made to convey painful 
sensations to the mind, and that all the pain we ever 
suffer, from whatever cause, is on account of our having 
sensitive nerves, and that if we had no such nerves 
we should never have any pain. And you speak of 
this fact, as proof of the goodness of the Creator. I 
know that the most you have told us since we com- 100 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Erroneous views relative to pain. 
monced conversing upon this subject, has been, to my 
mind, the clearest proof that God’s goodness has caused 
him to make us as we arc; but I cannot see how it 
can be so in this case. If God is so good, I do not 
see why he could not have made us so that we should 
never have been liable to suffer pain. O ! how de- 
lightful that would have been. Then, if I should 
burn, freeze or bruise my lingers, or llesh, I should 
have no pain, and if I were ever so sick it would cause 
no suffering. But now, if I burn my lingers, or if I 
freeze them, I am in such distress for hours that I 
don’t know what to do. Or, if I am sick, I have such 
pain in my head, or stomach, or some other part of 
my body! Or, if I get the smallest mote into my 
eye, the distress is dreadful. 
O, Father, how I wish that I had been made with- 
out sensitive nerves. Then, if I should go a little too 
near a hot stove, it would not burn me, and if I should 
go into the cold air on the most freezing day, I should 
feel nothing of it; and no matter how sick I might 
be, I should have no pain, and even gravel thrown 
into my eyes, would cause no distress. O, how de- 
lightful it would be to live if we could have no suf- 
fering ! 
Sometimes I eat hot bread, or good mince pie, or 
nice, rich preserves, and it causes me such pain in the 
stomach, that I am sick for two or three days after. 
But if I had no sensitive nerves I could eat just what 
I like, and it would never give me pain. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
101 
Erroneous views in regard to pain. 
Why, it seems strange to me, Father, that you never 
thought of this ! for if you had, I think you would 
not have said so much about the value of the sensitive 
nerves, in our last conversation. 
Father.—My dear son ! you seem not only to have 
discovered a great improvement upon the works of our 
heavenly Father, in the formation of our bodies, but 
you appear very jubilant over your supposed discovery. 
But do you really think, Frank, that it would have 
been an improvement in our condition, had we been 
made so as to be incapable of suffering pain ? 
Frank.—Why yes, Father, how could it be other- 
wise ? Can any one be as happy while suffering pain, 
as when free from it? You know you sometimes give 
what you call opiates to your patients, to relieve their 
pain. Now, how much better it would have been if 
they were incapable of feeling pain. I do not know, 
Father, but you can show that it is a good thing to 
suffer; but I choose to be free from it, if I can. It 
is true that you have cleared up some other things 
that looked dark, and reconciled them with your theory 
of goodness, but I cannot see how you can do so in 
this case. 
Fred.—I have been listening, Father, to the conver- 
sation between you and Frank, and I must say with 
him, that I cannot see that it proves any goodness in 
the Creator, to make us capable of so much pain and 
suffering, when he might have made us incapable of it 
by just leaving out the sensitive nerves. 102 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Results of the incapacity for nervous sensation 
Mary.—And so it seems to me, Father. 
Father.—Well, my dear children! Then you have 
all given your verdict against me, and not only against 
me, but against the goodness of our Creator. Now 
let us examine this subject. You say that in case you 
had no sensitive nerves, if you should go a little too 
near a hot stove it would not burn you. 
Let us suppose that after being in the cold, you go 
to a stove to warm yourself; not that you feel cold, 
for you are incapable of feeling, but supposing your 
hands may be cold, you approach the stove—but not 
knowing whether the heat is moderate or intense—for 
you cannot feel—you hold out your hands to warm 
them, and your attention is taken from them by enter- 
ing into conversation with some one standing by, until 
you look upon your hands, and to your utter horror, 
you see the flesh is broiling upon the bones! 
Now, was it a favor to you, in this case, or was it 
kindness in the Creator, that you were made incapable 
of feeling either cold or heat ? 
Again, you say, that if you should go into the cold 
on a very freezing day, you would feel nothing of it. 
Let us suppose that on such a day you are skating on 
the ice, or coasting down the hill on your sled. Being 
busily engaged in your sport, and not feeling the cold, 
you continue in high glee, until you find that your 
fingers are stiff—you cannot bend them, and soon the 
wrist and elbow arc stiff; still, you feel no pain. But RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
103 
Want of nervous sensation and its results. 
what is the matter ? Why your hands and arms are 
frozen stiff, and when they thaw the flesh will fall off 
and leave the bones bare. 
Now, had you been capable of pain, you would 
not have remained at your sport in the cold. The 
painful sensation produced, would have driven you 
into a warm room, before your limbs had been frozen, 
and thereby you would have saved them, and perhaps 
your life. 
Again, you say, if I had no sensitive nerves, no 
matter how sick I might be, I should have no pain. 
But if sickness caused no distress, we should feel no 
alarm, and of course should neglect the remedy until 
the disease became fatal. 
You say that the smallest mote in the eye causes 
severe suffering. But did you never think of the fact, 
that the eye is one of the most important, as woll as 
most delicate organs of the body ? that a very 
slight injury may cause its utter ruin, and that for its 
safety it was necessary that it should be endued with 
a high degree of sensitiveness, to enable it to give 
the alarm of the first and slightest approach of danger? 
The more precious the treasure, the more carefully 
should it be guarded. Every pain we feel, from 
whatever cause, is a friendly warning of danger. It 
informs us that the organ or part of the body where 
the pain exists, is invaded by a foe, and is in danger 
of being destroyed. 104 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
You recollect I told you that the nerves form a 
perfect network over the entire surface of the body. 
Well, every nerve is a sentinel, placed there by God 
himself, to guard the body from danger and death. 
Not a particle of the surface of the body as large as 
the point of a needle remains unguarded. Let a foe 
approach any part of the body, whether in the form 
of fire or frost, the sting of a bee, or the cut of a 
knife, and the sentinels (nerves) instantly convey the 
fact to the mind; thus, every particle of the body is 
guarded from the incursions of an unknown foe., In 
sickness of every form, the pain produced, is a warn- 
ing that something is destroying the vitality or life ot 
the part where the pain exists, and which must be 
removed or death will be the sure result. Thus timely 
warned, the proper medical treatment is applied, and 
death is averted. 
Now tell me, my dear children, whose way do you 
think best, yours, or the Creator’s? 
Frank.—O, Father! I do wish that I had never 
said a word about it. It does seem so strange that I 
could not have looked ahead a little and seen the lia- 
bilities you have described. I will never again be 
guilty of thinking that I am wiser and better than the 
Creator. 
Fred.—I am ashamed, Father, that I gave approval 
to all that Frank said. I hope I shall some time 
learn my own ignorance, and be more careful how I 
expose it. 
Every nerve a sentinel. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
105 
Nerves most numerous on the surface—the reason why. 
Mary.—I did not say so much, as Frank and 
Frederick, but I see, with shame, that I was just as 
stupid and wicked as they were. 
Father.—We may well be ashamed, my children, 
when we express, or even indulge a thought, that we 
can make improvement on the works and ways of 
God. It is true, that in studying his works, we shall 
often find what, to us, looks dark and mysterious, and 
what, perhaps, we shall find difficult to reconcile with 
our notions of wisdom and goodness. But let it always 
be a sufficient answer to such thoughts and queries, 
that we are ignorant, and God is infinite in knowledge, 
as well as goodness. As we advance in knowledge 
and goodness ourselves, we shall see more clearly the 
truth of the inspired declaration—•" As for God his 
ways are perfect.” 
Fred.—If you please, Father, I would like to ask 
a question. You say the nerves form a network over 
the surface of the body. Arc they more numerous 
on the surface than in other parts of the body ? 
Father.—Yes, my son, very much more abundant 
on the surface than elsewhere. 
Fred.—Why is that ? 
Father.—Evidently, because the surface is the part 
of the body principally exposed to injury. Yo injury 
from without could be inflicted upon the internal parts, 
without affecting the external first. It was therefore 
ecessaiy that the external surface should be the 106 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The sympathetic nerves. 
principal seat of sensation, so as to give warning on 
the first approach of danger, that deep and dangerous 
wounds, to which all, especially the laboring classes, 
are always exposed, might be avoided. 
Besides the nerves I have described, there is another 
important system called the sympathetic or ganglionic 
system. It consists of a series of Gan'-gli-a, or 
knots, which are small masses of nervous matter, and 
are situated on each side of the spinal column. They 
are connected with both the spinal and cranial nerves. 
The ganglia are nervous centres, from which branches 
pass off and communicate with other ganglia situated 
in different parts of the body. The head, neck, and 
trunk, receive branches from the sympathetic, which 
control the circulation of the blood, the action of the 
arteries, veins, capillaries, lymphatics,—the function 
of absorption and secretion,—indeed, most of the 
functions of the internal organs, are carried on by 
these nerves, without the knowledge or control of the 
mind. By these nerves, all the organs of the body 
arc connected, and such is the power of nervous 
sympathy that a healthy organ often becomes diseased, 
in consequence of its connection with a diseased organ 
by the sympathetic nerves. 
Thus, my dear children, we have taken a very briel 
and rapid view of the nervous system, by which we 
see that it is the nerves which connect the mind wit. 
the external world, and give us all the knowledge w RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
107 
The nerves the medium of all knowledge. 
have of the universe around us. Had we no nerves, 
we could never see the light of the sun, but total 
darkness would brood upon us forever. Nor should 
we ever hear the sweet music of the human voice, or 
the varied harmonics of nature. Nor should we ever 
have tasted the delicious products of earth, which God 
has provided in such profusion. 
All the knowledge we have of the earth around us, 
or of the heavens above us, is obtained through the 
nerves. Were it possible for the powers of the human 
mind to be what they now are, without the nerves, we 
could know nothing—cither of God or his works. 
Shut out from the universe of God, we could have no 
conception of anything but our own isolated self, and 
that would be a consciousness of little worth. 
Fred.—We feel very grateful, Father, for the 
knowledge you have given us about the nervous sys- 
tem, and we have passed you a vote of thanks. CONVERSATION VIII. 
DIGESTION AND NUTRITION. 
The digestive organs—Tiie process or function op digestion, 
HOW PERFORMED—The DIGESTIVE FLUIDS, SALIVA AND GASTRIC 
juice—Chyme and chyle, now formed—The lacteals, their 
function—The thoracic duct—Chyle poured into the venous 
blood—Review of the subject—Mastication or chewing the 
food, the first act of the digestive process—The act of 
swallowing, how performed—The glottis and epiglottis. 
Father.—In the previous conversations I have given 
you a brief description of the bones, muscles, and 
nerves; or, rather, I have given some particulars in 
regard to them—for it can hardly be called a descrip- 
tion, it is so brief. These constitute the principal hulk 
of what is called the solids of the body. But as ye' 
I have said nothing of the manner in which the bod? 
is formed, or what sustains it in existence. 
The body is made up of a great number of organs 
and parts, differing greatly in their functions, yet all 
acting harmoniously, and each contributing to fonu 
the most wonderful and perfect piece of mechanism 
ever produced. 
But how is this machinery formed ? "Whence come 
the materials? And what power moulds them intc ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
109 
form? Why is one part solid bone, another muscle, 
another nerve, another membrane? and all in due 
proportion. 
The question to which we are to give particular 
attention at the present time, is,—What are the mate- 
rials out of which our bodies are made, and by what 
process do they become bone, muscle, nerve, and the 
great variety of parts which compose the system ? 
If we enter a cotton mill, we look with pleasure 
and surprise, at the thousands of spindles and looms, 
and other machinery, moving with great rapidity and 
accuracy. But a careful examination will show that 
ivery part is made, or formed, by mechanical means, 
md upon well known mechanical principles. But not 
so with our bodies. The knife, the plane, the hammer, 
lave never been brought into use in forming this 
vonderful structure. 
Fred.—Why no, we know that our bodies are not 
nadc with tools, the same as you would construct a 
ouse, or a cotton mill. Our bodies grow. 
Father.—But how do they grow, my son ? 
Fred.—Why I don’t know how, but I know they 
grow, for boys grow up to be men. And you know 
that I am a great deal taller than I was when Mary 
was born. I suppose we grow because we eat good 
f od. You know you have often told us that now 
ilk and bread made us grow finely. I don’t think 
should grow much if I did not eat. You know that 
How the body is formed. 110 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
John Scott, who was so sick all last summer, ana 
could not eat anything, did not grow at all, and be- 
came very thin. 
Father.—It is true, my son, that we live by eating 
food. But how can food, such as bread and milk, 
rice, and toast, make bone, muscle, etc. Is there 
any similarity between bread and bone, or milk and 
muscle ? 
Fred.—I cannot see that there is, Father. I never 
thought of that before. I have always been eating 
and growing, and always thought that somehow gooc 
food made me grow, but I do not know how; I wist 
you would tell us. 
Father.—The food we eat, such as bread, meat 
fruits, and vegetables, is converted into living liuma 
bodies, by the wonderful process called digestion. 
Fred.—But, Father, how can food be converte 
into living human bodies ? 
Father.—I do not mean to say that food, itselj 
becomes living bodies, but it contains what is calk 
elementary principles, out of which our bodies ar 
formed. 
Fred.—Will you explain to us how it is done? 
Father.—I will give you, briefly, the substance of 
what is known about it. But this, like all the work, 
of God, has limits beyond which human investigati n 
cannot go. You must always bear in mind, my ch 
dren, that when we study the works of the Great o: 
II ow the body is formed. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
The digestive organs. 
we see only a few of the plainest and most obvious 
facts, and that beyond all that can be discovered by 
the most profound scrutiny, lie mysteries as incom- 
prehensible as the Deity himself. And yet, strange 
to say, these mysteries are so common that we seldom 
or never think of them; constantly before our eyes, 
yet we never see them; in every part of our bodies, 
but we never contemplate them. 
But I was about to say, that there is a set of organs, 
or an apparatus, in our bodies, the office or function 
of which is, to produce the changes in our food, of 
which I have spoken, and without which, food could 
no more nourish us, and cause us to grow, than saw- 
dust or gravel. They are called the digestive organs. 
Frank.—Will you please tell us what the digestive 
organs are? 
Father.—They are the Mouth, Teeth, Sal'-i-va-ry 
Glands, CE-soph'-a-gus, (Gullet—passage to the stom- 
ach) ; Stom'-ach, In-tes'-tines, (Bowels) ; Lac'-te-als, 
Tho-rac-ic Duct, Liver, and the FaA-cre-as. 
The Moutii is the cavity which contains the organs 
of taste and the instruments of mastication. It is 
bounded on each side by the cheeks ; in front by the 
lips ; above by the hard palate, (roof of the mouth) ; 
and the teeth of the upper jaw; below, by the teeth 
of the lower jaw and the tongue ; behind, by what is 
called the soft palate, which may be elevated or de- 
pressed at pleasure, so as to close, or leave open, the 
passage to the stomach. 112 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The stomach, liver, bowels, etc. 
Fig. 23. 
A GENERAL IDEA OF THE STOMACH, LIVER, BOWELS, ETC. 
Fig. 23. 9, the stomach; 10,10, the liver; 1, the gall bladder; 2, the due 
which conveys the bile to 4,4 which is the duodenum; 3, the pancreas; 5, t! 
oesophagus; A, the duodenum; B, the bowels; (J, the junction of the sma 
intestines with the colon: D, the appendix vermifoi mis; K, the coecum; F, tl 
ascending colon; G, the transverse colon; H, the descending colon; I, the sig- 
noid flexure; J, the rectum. 
As I intend, at some future time, to give you a 
somewhat lengthy description of the teeth, I shall 
say nothing here in reference to them. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
113 
The salivary glands. 
Fig. 24. 
A VIEW OF THE SALIVARY GLANDS IN THEIR PROPER 
SITUATION. 
Fig. 24. 1, the parotid: 2, its duct: 3, the submaxillary gland: 4, its duct. 
, the sublingual gland. 
There are six salivary glands—three on each side— 
called the pa-rot'-id, the sub-max'-il-la-ry, and the 
sub-lin'-gual. Several small ducts, connected with 
these glands, open into the mouth, for the passage of 
the saliva. 
The (Esophagus is a large tube extending from tho 
>ack part of the mouth, or the pharynx, to the stomach, 
t is situated behind the trachea, heart and lungs. Its 
unction is to convey the food to the stomach. 
The Stomach has been compared in form, to a 
lusical instrument called the bag-pipe. It is situated 
t the upper part of the abdomen, or bowels, a little 
) the left of the medial line, just below, and in im- 114 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The stomach and bowels, a description of. 
mediate contact with what is called the diaphragm. 
It has two openings, one for the reception of food, 
connected with the oesophagus, called the cordiac 
orifice; the other connects with the duodenum—the 
first portion of the intestine—and is called the pyloric 
orifice. These two orifices are at the opposite ends 
or extremities of the stomach. 
The stomach is composed of three coats or mem- 
branes. The exterior, is very strong and tough, and 
by its connection with surrounding parts, keeps the 
stomach in its proper position. The middle coat is 
composed of two layers of muscular fibres, one set 
of which is arranged lengthwise, the other circularly. 
The inner is called the mucous coat, and is arranged 
in folds. The stomach is abundantly supplied with 
small glands which secrete the gastric fluid, which is 
tlie great agent, or instrument, in the process of 
digestion; a description of which, I shall soon give you. 
The Bowels.—Connected with the stomach, is a 
long tube, called the intestine, or bowels, divided 
into two parts—the small and large. The small in- 
testine is about twenty-five feet in length, and k 
divided into three parts, called the Du-o-de'-num, the 
Je-ju'-num, and the IV-e-um. 
The large intestine is short, compared with the 
small, being about five feet in length, and like th 
small, is divided into three portions, namely, th 
Cat'-cum, the Co'-lon, and the lied-turn. RENDERED attractive. 
115 
The small intestine. 
Fred.—You surprise me, Father ! The intestines 
thirty feet long ? What need is there of such length, 
and how can they be kept in place ? 
Father.—These are questions of interest, my son, 
and wo will duly consider them, after I have given a 
description of the dilferent parts. 
The Duodenum is connected with the stomach at 
the pyloric orifice, as I before stated. It is larger- 
than the other small intestines, and in length, is about 
the breadth of twelve fingers. It terminates in the 
jejunum. Ducts from the pancreas and liver open 
into it about six inches from the stomach. 
Frank.—You say the small intestine is divided into 
three parts. Is there any mark to distinguish the 
termination of the one, and the commencement of the 
other ? 
Father.—There is not. The one is continuous with 
the other. 
The Jejunum is continuous with the duodenum. 
It is somewhat thicker than the other small intestines, 
and different in color, having a pinkish hue. 
The Ileum is paler than the jejunum—it is also 
smaller, and thinner in texture. It terminates by a 
valvular opening into the colon, forming an obtuse 
angle. By this arrangement, substances are prevented 
from passing from the colon to the ileum. 116 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
How the bowels are kept in place. 
The Ccecum is merely a pouch, a few inches in length, 
at the commencement of the large intestine. 
The Colon is an important part of the large intes- 
tine. It is divided into three parts—the ascending, 
transverse, and descending. It terminates at the rec- 
tum, where it makes a curve upon itself, called the 
sig'-moid flex'-ure, which, in the function of the bowels, 
is of great importance. 
The Rectum is the termination of the large intes- 
tine, which, like the smaller, and the stomach, has 
three coats, or is formed of three membranes. 
The mouth, gullet, stomach, and intestine, consti- 
tute what is called the alimentary canal. 
I will now answer your queries in regard to the 
length of the intestine, and how it is kept in place. 
I must first state, however, that there is a thick 
sheet of membrane, called the mes'-en-ter-y, formed 
of several folds of the peritoneum—(lining mem- 
brane of the abdomen), spread out from the vertebra, 
like a fan. The bowels are attached to the edges 
of this membrane, and held by it in their place. As 
to the length of the intestine, it does seem a wonder- 
ful thing that it should be about six times the length 
of the body. But a careful study of the subject, will, 
X think, reveal to us, both the object and necessity of 
such an arrangement. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
117 
Length of the intestine—why so long. 
Comparative anatomy reveals the fact, that tho 
length of the intestinal tube, in different species of 
animals, is governed by the kind or quality of food 
upon which they subsist; the intestine of the carniv- 
erous, or flesh eating animals, being the shortest, and 
the herbiverous the longest. In some birds of prey, 
the intestinal canal is but a little longer than the body 
of the bird. In the wild-cat it is about three times its 
length, while the intestine of a sheep is thirty times 
the length of the body. The longest is in the deer 
kind, measuring, in some cases, ninety-six feet. But 
man, being omnivorous, living upon a mixed diet 
composed of both animal and vegetable, holds a 
medium position, and in him, therefore, we find it of 
medium length. 
Fred.—But why docs the land of food upon which 
animals subsist, render it necessary that the intestine 
should vary so greatly in length ? 
Father.—For the reason that it requires a much 
Teater bulk, and consequently a much longer time 
o digest, and obtain the nutriment from herbs and 
grass, than from flesh, and therefore the former require 
to be retained longer in the alimentary canal, to per- 
fect the digestion, and allow time for the absorption 
of chyle by the lacteals. 
But, when the food is readily digested, and the 
chyle or nutriment is soon elaborated and made ready 
for absorption, as animal food is, its long retention is 118 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
How the intestine is held in place. 
unnecessary, and might be injurious ; consequently a 
long alimentary canal is not needed. 
Fred.—I think I understand it now. But I cannot 
imagine how the small intestine, of such length, can 
be kept in place. 
Father.—It would seem a difficult matter, as it is 
a soft substance, yielding readily to pressure ; some 
portions of which are laid in folds from side to side, 
others in oblique and circuitous directions; it must, 
without some extra precautionary measure for its 
safety, be constantly liable to displacement by tho 
numerous, violent, and abrupt motions of the body; 
or be bruised and wounded by every fall; or it would 
become entangled with itself, or shaken out of its 
proper position ; and the order which is necessary to 
enable it to carry on its important functions. 
Now all this danger, so serious in its nature, and 
which might be fatal in its results, is provided against 
in the following manner, which is as admirable as it it 
beneficial. 
Throughout its whole length, tho intestine is firnd 
attached to the mesentery, being "gathered on” to it 
as a ruffle to a garment; it being not more than one- 
fourth the length of the intestine. The mesentery 
not only keeps the intestine in its proper place and 
position, but sustains the numerous small arteries, 
veins, lymphatics and lacteals which lead to and from 
eveiy part of the coats and cavity of the intestinal RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
119 
Functions of the liver. 
Fig. 25. 
THE LIVER. 
Fig. 25. 1, the right lobe; 2, left lobe; 3, 4, small lobes; 10, gall bladder; 17, 
the notch into which the spinal column is fitted. 
canal. This membrane, which thus supports the ali- 
mentary apparatus, is itself supported by being firmly 
attached to several of the spinal vertebra. 
The Liver is the largest gland, and, indeed, the 
largest organ in the system. It weighs about four 
pounds. It is situated below the diaphragm, in the 
right side, and has several lobes. It is concave on 
the under, and convex on the upper surface, and is 
retained in its place by several ligaments. Its office 
or function, is two-fold,—the secretion of alluid called 
bile—important in the digestive process,—and the 
separation of impurities from the venous blood. There 
is a membranous sac, called the gall cyst, or bladder, 
on the under side of the liver, which acts as a reservoir 
for the bile. A duct, from it, through which the bile 
is discharged, opens into the duodenum. 120 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Function of the pancreas, diaphragm, etc. 
Fig. 26. 
" The Pancreas is a long, flattened gland, analogous 
to the salivary glands. It is about six inches in length, 
weighs three or four ounces, and is situated trans- 
versely, or across the posterior wall of the abdomen, 
behind the stomach.” 
THE PANCREAS. 
Like the liver, it is connected to the duodenum by 
a duct, whose mouth opens on its inner surface, 
through which the pancreatic juice flows. 
The Omentum, (call), is formed of four layers of 
serous membrane, connected with the stomach and 
transverse colon. It contains adipose matter. Its 
function is to protect the intestines from cold, and 
facilitate their movements upon each other. 
The Spleen, (pnilt), is an oblong, flattened organ, 
of a dark, bluish color, situated in the left side sunder 
the diaphragm, and in contact with the stomach and 
pancreas. It was supposed, by the ancients, to be 
the scat of melancholy. What function it performs 
is not known, but there are various conjectures, in 
regard to its office in the animal economy. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
121 
Process of digestion described. 
The Diaphragm, or Midriff, is a muscular mem- 
brane, which separates the thorax from the abdomen. 
The (esophagus, aorta, and vena cava pass through it. 
Its functions are various ; the most important of which, 
perhaps, is the aid it affords the lungs in the act ol 
respiration or breathing. 
The Thoracic Duct commences in the abdomen, 
in front of the lower portion of the spine. It passes 
through the diaphragm, and rises to the neck. It lies 
in front of the spine, by the side of the oesophagus 
and aorta,—a location which protects these important 
vessels from injury. It is formed by a union of the 
lactcals, and is about the size of a goose-quill. It 
terminates at the point where the principal vein of the 
left arm, called the subclavion, unites with a largo 
vein in the neck, called the jugular. At this point, 
there is a pair of semilunar valves, the object of which 
is, to prevent the venous blood from flowing into the 
thoracic duct;—another proof of the kind care of our 
Creator. 
Having given a brief description of the principal 
organs concerned in the digestive process, I will now 
describe the function itself. 
Digestion, strictly speaking, is that process by which 
food is converted into blood. It commences with the 
mastication and insalivation of the food in the mouth. 
Frank.—What do you moan, Father, by mastica 
tion and insalivation ? 122 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Mastication, insalivation, saliva. 
Father.—Mastication is the cutting, or grinding of 
the food by the teeth. The process is necessary in 
order to prepare the food for the action of the digestive 
fluids. 
Tnsalivation is the admixture of the food in the 
mouth, during mastication, with a fluid called saliva. 
It is the first of the digestive fluids, and is secreted 
by the salivary glands, which I have already described. 
Mary.—What are glands, Father? 
Father.—They arc bodies or organs situated in dif- 
ferent parts of the body, the function of which is to 
secrete, or separate from the blood, peculiar fluids, 
some of which fulfil very important offices in the ani- 
mal economy. But as I intend to give you a more 
detailed account or description of these organs, I will 
here only say, that the salivary glands secrete saliva, 
or spittle, the object of which is to moisten the food 
in the mouth. 
A fact worthy of note is, that the saliva is not 
secreted with uniform rapidity at all times. While 
the tongue and jaws are at rest, and while fasting, the 
quantity secreted is but small. But the action of the 
jaws in masticating the food, increases the flow, par- 
ticularly if the food has a decided taste. The secre- 
tion of saliva is great also while masticating dry food, 
as a cracker, and little or none is secreted while eating 
fluids, as broth or milk. 
After mastication and insalivation, the food passes RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
123 
The lacteals and their function. 
nto the stomach, where it meets with a powerful and 
penetrating fluid called the Gastric juice. This fluid 
mixes with, and disolves the food, forming it into a 
soft, pulpy mass, called chyme. It then passes out of 
the stomach, through the pyloric orifice, into the 
duodenum. It there meets and mixes with the bile, 
or gall, which is a yellow, or deep green, and very 
bitter fluid, secreted by the liver, and poured into the 
dnodenum through a large tube or bile duct, as I have 
already explained. While in the duodenum the chyme 
is also mixed with another fluid called the Pancreatic 
j uicc, secreted by the pancreatic glands. By the action 
of these two fluids, the nutritious portions of the food 
are separated from the innutritious. The nutritious 
portion is called Chyle, and in color and consistence, 
resembles thin cream. 
The Lacteals. As the chyle passes along the in- 
testine, it is absorbed, or taken up by vessels called 
Lac'-te-als, whose mouths open on the inner surface, 
or mucous membrane, of the small intestine. 
The lacteals pass between the membrane of the 
mesentery, and through successive ranges of small 
bodies called mesenteric glands. A large number of 
the minute lacteals enter the first range of these glands, 
and a less number of larger ones pass from the first 
to the second range, and after passing through several 
successive ranges of these glands, diminishing in 124 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Mesenteric gland and lacteals. 
Fig. 27. 
THE MESENTERIC GLANDS, WITH THE LACTEALS PASSING 
THROUGH THEM. 
Fig. 27- 1, is the intestine; 2, 3, 4, the mesenteric glands through which the 
lacteals pass; 5, the thoracic duct; 7, the spinal column; 8, the diaphragm. 
number and increasing in size, they filially enter, and 
pour their contents into the thoracic duct, (See Fig. 
27, which, study carefully). 
The lacteals arc very numerous, there being mil- 
lions of them, and are less in size than the smallest 
hair, being invisible to the naked eye, and can be seen 
only with the aid of the microscope. They run to- 
gether, as I have said, and form tubes larger and 
larger, until they all concentrate in one large tube, 
the Thoracic Duct, which I have already described. 
The quantity of chyle taken up by the lacteals in a 
healthy man, is estimated at from two to three quarts 
oer day. 
Frank.—If you please, Father, I wish to ask why RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
125 
Wily the lacteals are bo small. 
the lactcals are so very small, when the quantity of 
chyle which passes through them is so great. 
Father.—To answer your question, I must first state, 
that there are millions of blood-vessels in our bodies, 
so small that three thousand can lie side by side and 
not extend more than one inch. Now, as the chyle 
is to be poured into the blood, as I shall hereafter 
explain, were not the lacteals as minute as these blood- 
vessels, they might absorb, or take up particles of food 
so large as to choke up these small blood-vessels, and 
thus prevent the circulation of the blood, which would 
cause immediate death. Our Maker knew this, as he 
made both the lacteals and the blood-vessels, and 
therefore formed the lacteals so small that they can 
take up no particles that can obstruct the circulation. 
Frank.—Your answer is very interesting, and gives 
me information of what I knew nothing about before. 
How clearly it shows the goodness and wisdom of the 
Creator, and the perfection of his work. 
Father.—It does. But I was going to say that the 
i hyle taken up by the lacteals, is poured into the 
thoracic duct, which conveys it into the veins, where it 
mingles with the venous blood, and with it is conveyed 
to the heart, and by the action of the heart and lungs, 
which I shall hereafter explain, becomes blood, en- 
dowed with all the qualities of life. 
But this is a very brief description. Let us now 
review, and enlarge upon what we have been saying 126 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Mastication and digestion. 
upon the subject of digestion, and see if we can dis- 
cover anything in it that Speaks of the goodness and 
careful kindness of the Creator. 
The first act in the digestive process, as we have 
seen, is the mastication or chewing of the food, so 
that the digestive fluids can act upon it. This renders 
it necessary that a suitable apparatus for the purpose, 
should be provided. And what can bo more admira- 
bly adapted to the purpose than the teeth, tongue, 
cheeks, etc. The large, broad teeth, on each side the 
mouth, do the grinding, while the tongue on the inside, 
and the cheeks on the outside, serve to keep the food 
upon, or between the teeth until the grinding is accom- 
plished. At the same time, the movement of the jaw 
in chewing, stimulates the salivary glands to secrete, 
and pour into the mouth, a quantity of saliva, for 
the purpose of moistening the food. 
That we may see the value of this apparatus, and 
the goodness of the Creator in providing it, let us 
suppose that we are made without teeth, or any thing 
as a substitute. Without nutriment from food we 
should soon pine away and die. That we may obtain 
nutriment from it, it must be digested. That it may 
be digested, it must be masticated; but how can it be 
masticated without teeth ? 
Again, were it possible to eat food without teeth, 
the great pleasure which people enjoy in eating, would 
be principally lost; for the rich, delicious taste of RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
127 
IIow food is conveyed to the stomach. 
food, is obtained mostly by chewing it. But how could 
we chew without teeth ? 
Frank.—I think, Father, that I shall value my 
teeth more than ever, and I trust that I shall be more 
grateful to my heavenly Father for them. 
Father.—I hope you will, and will love him more 
and more. 
Another very interesting fact, is the manner in 
which food is conveyed from the mouth to the stomach 
by the act of swallowing. It is as follows :—There 
are two passages from the mouth to the thorax, or 
chest,—one for the food, called the cesophcgus or 
Fig. 28. 
A SIDE VIEW OF THE FACE, (ESOPHAGUS, AND TRACHEA. 
Fig. 28. 1, is the trachea; 2, the larynx ; 3, the oesophagus; 4,4, 4, muscles 
of the pharynx; 5, the muscles of the cheek; C, the muscle which surrounds 
the mouth; 7, the muscle forming the floor of the mouth. 128 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The act of swallowing, how performed. 
gullet, which I have before described, the other, for 
the passage of air into the lungs, called the trachea, 
or windpipe. These passages are so arranged, that 
the windpipe is placed in front of the gullet,—the 
passage to the stomach. It is, therefore, necessary, 
that every particle of food and drop of liquid, that 
passes from the mouth to the stomach, should, by 
some means, be conveyed over the upper end, or 
mouth of the windpipe ; and it is also necessary that 
the windpipe should be kept open to admit the free 
passage of air into, and from the lungs, in the act of 
breathing. 
Now, how can these two important objects be ac- 
complished, without interfering with each other? 
If the windpipe is kept open, how can food and 
liquids pass over it into the stomach, without going 
into it? If it is not kept open, how can the air pass 
freely to and from the lungs ? 
Fred.—I cannot answer that question, Father, for 
I cannot think of any way by which it can be done. 
But I have seen enough, in what you have told us, to 
assure me, that our Maker can do any thing that is 
necessary, however impossible it appears to us. Will 
you please tell us how it is done ? 
Father.—You are right, my son. God can do 
whatever he pleases, and will do whatever is necessary. 
The plan he has adopted in this case, and the apparatus 
he has made for its accomplishment, is a wonderful 
piece of mechanism, which I will attempt to describe. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
129 
The epiglottis a safety valve; its mode of action. 
The upper end, or mouth of the windpipe, called 
the Glot'-tis, is covered by a cartilage, called the Fp'- 
i-glot-tis, which is a sort of valve, or lid, fitted to the 
glottis so perfectly, that when closed, it is impossible 
for a particle of food, or a drop of fluid to pass into 
the windpipe. 
Fred.—It is certainly a good way to have a valve 
to close over the mouth of the windpipe, but what 
closes and opens the valve at just the right time ? 
Father.—This valve is hung, or connected with the 
parts, by springs made of cartilage, and in its natural 
condition, is open, and admits the free passage of air 
to. the lungs. These springs arc so arranged, that the 
act of swallowing presses down the valve before the 
food or fluid gets to it, perfectly closing the passage 
to the lungs, and leaving the passage to the stomach 
free and clear, and as soon as the food is passed over 
the epiglottis, or valve, it opens again of its own 
accord, and remains open until closed again by the act 
of swallowing. 
This is a perfectly self-regulating safety valve, being 
closed by the same action of the muscles that carry 
the food into the stomach in the act of swallowing. 
Now is not this a wonderful arrangement? And just 
think, this perfectly safe action of the epiglottis, 
upon which our safety depends, takes place without 
the least thought on our part. Had its action been 
left to our care, how long do you think we should 130 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Perfect action of the epiglottis. 
live ? How often we should attempt to swallow, and 
forget to close the passage to the lungs, and thus pro- 
duce strangulation, by allowing food to pass into the 
lungs. Life and death are suspended upon the timely 
closing and opening of the epiglottis. 
Fred.—How impressive this fact! It seems to me, 
that no one can become acquainted with such proofs 
of God’s kind care for us, without feeling sincere and 
fervent gratitude. 
But, does not the food sometimes get by this valve, 
into the windpipe ? 
I have sometimes heard people say that the " food 
went down the wrong way.” And I recollect that 
once little sister was crying while eating, and some 
food was drawn down the windpipe with the breath, 
as mother said; and it caused such coughing and 
strangling that we feared she would die. Now did 
not the food go by the valve ? 
Father.—I think that food never passes into the 
windpipe in the act of swallowing. But if people 
talk and laugh, and children cry, with the mouth full 
of food, particles of it may be drawn in with the 
breath. But this proves no fault in the structure of 
the valve, nor docs it show any imperfection in its 
action; it simply shows the imprudence of talking 
and laughing while eating. 
And this leads me to speak of another interesting 
fact. To draw particles of food, or any other solid RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
131 
Sensitiveness of the windpipe. 
substance into the lungs, endangers life. But our 
Maker, knowing that we might accidentally, as I have 
just described, inhale irritating substances, lias pro- 
vided a safe-guard, which is this :—The lining mem- 
brane of the windpipe is endowed with the most acute 
sensitiveness, so that the presence of particles of food, 
or any other substance, causes the most violent cough- 
ing and spasm, and thus gives warning of the presence 
of an enemy that endangers life. And yet this same 
sensitive membrane is totally insensible to the pres- 
ence of air, which is constantly passing over it to and 
from the lungs. 
There must certainly be a wise design in this, and 
it is as good as wise. This sensitive membrane may 
be regarded as a sentinel, placed there by the Creator, 
to give instant warning of danger. And how well 
he performs his duty, every one knows who has had 
the misfortune to draw a particle of food into the 
windpipe. But we must now close this conversation 
which has already been t( to long, and resume the sub- 
ject at our next meeting. CONVERSATION IX. 
DIGESTION AND NUTRITION CONTINUED. 
Quantity of gastric juice secreted—Its power to dissolvb 
food—Peristaltic motion—Office of the bile and pancre- 
atic juice. 
Father.—As I have before said, the gastric juice is 
the great agent or instrument in the process of diges- 
tion. This fluid has the power of dissolving food of 
all kinds with which it comes in contact. If is not 
found in the stomach at all times, but is secreted at 
the time of taking food; the food, as it comes into 
the stomach, acting as a stimulant to the secreting; 
glands. The quantity of gastric juice secreted daily 
in a man’s stomach, is supposed to be not less than 
fourteen pounds. 
Frank.—How can that be ? Can the stomach con- 
tain fourteen pounds of fluid ? 
Father.—No, it can hold but two or three pints at 
a time. 
Frank.—What then becomes of fourteen pounds ? 
Father.—The gastric juice does not accumulate in 
the stomach in large quantities, but each portion, as ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
133 
Peristaltic motion of the stomach. 
soon as it has produced its effect upon the food, is re- 
absorbed and taken into the circulation, and thus gives 
room for new secretions of the fluid to continue its 
action upon the remaining undigested food; and this 
process goes on until the food is all dissolved, when 
there will be found but little gastric juice in the stom- 
ach, and but little or none will be secreted until food 
iS again taken. 
The digestive process is greatly aided by what is 
called the per-is-tal'-tic motion of the stomach. This 
motion is produced by the alternate contraction and 
relaxation of muscular fibres running both lengthwise 
and around the organ. This motion of the stomach 
brings the food in contact with the mucous membrane, 
and each portion is mixed with, and is dissolved by the 
gastric juice, and forms a soft pulpy mass called chyme, 
as I have before stated. The food is not all dissolved 
at once, but as fast as it is changed into chyme, it 
passes out of the stomach, by the pyloric orifice, into 
the duodenum, and this process continues until the 
food is all dissolved, after which the stomach rests 
until another meal is taken. 
As I have before stated, the chyme in the duode- 
num is mixed with the bile from the liver, and the 
pancreatic juice from the pancreas, and by the action 
of these fluids, the nutritious portions of the food arc 
separated from the innutritious. 
Fred.—How can these fluids produce this effect? 134 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Action of digestive fluids. 
Father.—I cannot tell. It is one of those acts of 
the Creator which is beyond the comprehension of 
man. It is known that the gastric j uicc in the stomach 
dissolves the food—that the bile and pancreatic juice 
in the duodenum,# separate the nutriment from the 
gross portions, that the chyle is taken up by the lac- 
teals, and, by a process which I shall hereafter ex- 
plain, becomes blood. But how it is done I canno. 
tell. 
Why these different fluids act with such power upon 
the food, and with such different results, each pro- 
ducing precisely the effect needed, can be explained 
only by saying, that the Creator knew these effects 
must be produced, that our bodies might obtain the 
nutriment upon which, not only our growth, but our 
life depends; and, therefore, endowed these organs 
with the necessary power to secrete the fluids adapted 
to produce the results I have named. Now all this 
action of the digestive process which I have been de- 
scribing, like the action of the epiglottis, and other 
organs, wrhich I have before explained, is no more 
under our control, and depends no more upon our 
will, or any effort we can make, than the rising and 
setting of the sun. All that we can do, from begin- 
ning to end of the process of digestion, is to select, 
chew and swallow our food. These are voluntary acts 
of ours. All else is and is governed by 
the laws that control all involuntary action. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
135 
Digestion, its abuse. 
And how seldom we think of what is going on 
within us, and the momentous consequences depend- 
ing upon the faithful performance of the digestive 
function. 
We take our supper, and retire, and while our bodies 
are being refreshed with quiet slumber, and our senses 
arc locked in sleep, the digestive organs are busily at 
work, and before waking in the morning, the nutri- 
tious portions of the food taken for supper, are formed 
into blood, and are coursing through our veins, giving 
life and vigor to our bodies. 
O 
Fred.—I feel very thankful, Father, for the infor- 
mation you have given us upon the subject of diges- 
tion ; and I think we all have great cause to be thankful 
to our heavenly Father, that he has so formed the 
digestive organs, that they do their labor without our 
care. It seems so strange to me, that I have never 
seriously thought of these facts before ! I wonder if 
every one is as stupid, in regard to these things, as I 
have been. 
Father.—I do not know, my son, how that is. But 
from what we see of the community, it would not, 
perhaps, be harsh judging to say, that most persons 
are chielly desirous to get good food—that which is 
rich and delicious in'taste, and after it is swallowed, 
they think no more of the change that must be pro- 
duced upon that food by the digestive process, before 
it can nourish the system,—of the labor that is going 136 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Hunger explained. 
on within their own bodies, to prepare that food to 
nourish and sustain, rather than destroy life, than 
they think of what is going on in the moon. The 
most that many seem to think in regard to their food 
is, whether it has a good flavor, and rich taste; not 
whether it is such as can be digested, and contains 
health}7 nutriment. 
Mary.—I think it is so, Father. But how thankful 
we should be, that our Maker has so formed the diges- 
tive organs, that they perform their duty whether we 
think of it or not. 
Father.—There is another fact, in regard to diges- 
tion, that I must name. The digestive apparatus not 
only digests the food, but it gives due notice when 
the supply is out and more is needed. The sensation 
that we call hunger, is simply a demand of the system 
for food. Without it we could never know when our 
bodies were in real need of nutriment. 
How kind it was, then, in our Maker, so to form 
these organs, that they give timely notice when food 
is needed. For the appetite would always be a safe 
guide in regard to both the quantity of food and the 
time of taking it, had it not been perverted by vicious 
indulgence. 
When food is needed, the stoitiach sends up a tele- 
gram to "head-quarters,” giving information that 
something is needed " down here,”—thus calling atten- 
tion to the subject. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE 
137 
Facts about digestion. 
The mind not only perceives that something is 
needed, but the telegram (sensation) informs the 
mind what is needed, and food is at once ordered. 
Frank.—This is all very interesting and instructive. 
But I wish to ask if the digestion of food ever causes 
pain in the stomach ? 
Father.—No, indeed ! Digestion, on the contrary, 
produces a pleasurable sensation throughout the sys- 
tem. Why did you ask that question, Frank? 
Frank.—Because I have heard people complain of 
pain in the stomach, and I wished to know what 
caused it. 
Father.—When there is pain in the stomach, it is 
usually caused by indigestion. 
Frank.—What causes indigestion, Father. I rec- 
ollect you told us that the gastric juice had the power 
to dissolve all kinds of food. 
Father.—And so it has. But here is a fact that 
you should know, and should never forget. The 
stomach secretes just enough of gastric juice to dissolve 
the quantity of food the system requires for nourish- 
ment, and no more. Now, if a man requires but one 
pound for a meal, and eats two, what will be the 
result ? 
Frank.—I suppose one pound will be dissolved, 
and pass out of the stomach, and the other will remain 
in the stomach, undigested. 138 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Excessive eating. 
Father.—That is correct. Now, suppose he eats 
two pounds more at the next meal. 
Frank.—lie would then have three pounds in the 
stomach. 
Father.—When the system required but one, and 
when there was gastric juice sufficient to dissolve or 
digest but one. Do you wonder the man had pain in 
the stomach ? And this is the course that thousands 
pursue, year after year, eating double the quantity 
of nourishment the body demands, or the digestive 
fluids can dissolve. Not only is the quantity twice 
what it should be, but the same meal is often composed 
of a great number of different articles, so compounded 
as to render them extremely indigestible. But as I 
intend, at some future time, to speak at length upon 
the subject of diet and digestion, I will here just add, 
that the only part God has permitted man to take in 
the process of digestion,—that of selecting, chewing 
and swallowing his food, is often so grossly abused, 
that lingering and painful sickness, and sometimes 
even death, pays the penalty of the abuse. 
Frank.—But what becomes of the food in the 
stomach that remains undigested ? 
Father.—It either becomes acid or putrid, and 
passes off in a crude, acrid state, proving a source of 
irritation to the whole alimentary canal. 
And all this, because our Maker, in great kindness, RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
139 
Pleasure of eating. 
has connected the eating of food, with a great degree 
of pleasure; and man, in base ingratitude, has well 
nigh forgotten that food was designed for any other 
purpose than to please the taste. 
But we will leave this subject fat the present and 
resume it at a future conversation* conversation X. 
THE BLOOD-VESSELS AND LUNGS. 
The heart--The arteries—The capillaries—The veins—Changes 
IN THE COLOR OF THE BLOOD—TlIE ORGANS OF RESPIRATION OR 
BREATHING, DESCRIPTION OF, FUNCTION OF—OXYGEN TAKEN UP 
BY THE BLOOD—CaRBON THROWN OFF BY THE LUNGS—QUANTITY 
OF AIR INHALED AND OXYGEN ABSORBED—QUANTITY OF CARBON 
exhaled—Carbon, how generated—Carbon the food of veg- 
etables, ETC. 
Father.—At our last meeting I made you acquainted 
with some facts relative to the very interesting process 
of digestion, commencing with the mastication of the 
food, and speaking very briefly, of all the changes 
that take place, until the chyle is poured into, and 
mixed with the venous blood. 
I wish now to say, that this laborious process of 
digestion of which we have spoken, has done nothing 
as yet, towards supplying the system with nutriment. 
Were it to stop here, we should as surely and as 
quickly die of starvation, as if we had not tasted a 
morsel of food. All that has been done by the entire 
process which I have described, is to form the blood. 
And the blood now contains all the elements of nutri- 
tion which existed in the food previous to digestion ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
141 
Vessels for circulating the blood 
Now, an entirely new, and totally different process 
must take place, before the body can receive nourish- 
ment, which consists in the conversion of blood into 
bone, cartilage, muscle, nerve, membrane, etc., and 
also the repairing the waste of the body, which is 
going on in every part of the system during every 
moment of life. 
That the blood may nourish the whole system, it 
must be conveyed to every particle and fibre of the 
entire body. And this requires ducts or channels, in 
which the blood can flow; and some effectual means 
of driving it through them, all of which are provided, 
and which I will proceed to describe. 
The apparatus for circulating the blood, consists of 
four parts, each differing greatly from the other, viz : 
1st. The heart;—a large, hollow, muscular organ, 
which receives the blood from the veins, at one orifice, 
and drives it out at another, at the opposite side, into 
the arteries. 
2d. The arteries;—tubes which convey the blood 
from the heart to all the different organs and parts of 
the body. 
3d. The capillaries ;—extremely small vessels which 
intervene between the minute arteries and veins, and 
form a connection between the two. 
4th. The veins ;—a set of vessels which collect the 
blood from the capillaries, and convey it back to the 
heart. ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Organs of respiration. 
In the arteries, capillaries, and veins, the blood 
varies greatly in quality and color. In the arteries it 
has a bright scarlet color, but in passing through the 
capillaries, it loses its bright color, and becomes 
darker, and in the veins it is a deep purple, and in 
some parts of the body, nearly black. 
Fred.—What causes these changes in the color of 
the blood, Father? I thought that blood was always 
red. 
Father.—That you may understand the cause of 
the changes which take place in the quality and color 
of the blood, as it circulates through the system, you 
must know the structure and function of the respira- 
tory organs; and this I shall make the subject of the 
present conversation. 
The organs of respiration, or breathing, are the 
Lungs, (lights), the Tra'-che-a, (windpipe), the Brori- 
chi-a, (divisions and sub-divisions of the windpipe), 
and the Air-cells at the extremities of the bronchia. 
The Lungs are situated in the chest or thorax. 
They are conical in form, and are divided into right 
and left, the heart being situated between them. The 
right lung is divided into three lobes, and the left into 
two. The right is larger than the left. 
The lungs arc separated from each other by a mem- 
brane, or partition, called the Me-di-as-ti'-num. They 
are of a pinkish grey color, mottled. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
143 
The lungs. 
Fig. 29. 
Fig. 29. 1,1,1, the right lung; 2, 2, 2, the left lung; 4, the windpipe; 5, the 
right bronchial tube; C, the left bronchial tube; 7, small bronchial tubes; 9,9, 
9, 9, 9, 9, air-cells. 
THE LUNGS. 
Each lung is enclosed with a serous membrane, 
called the Pleu'-ra, which is reflected upon, and lines 
the chest. When this membrane is inflamed, the dis- 
ease is called "pleurisy.” 
The lungs are formed of minute divisions of the 
bronchial tubes, the air-cells, lymphatics, arteries and 
veins, connected by cellular tissue, which constitute 
the Pa-ren'-chy-ma. 144 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Air-cells, very numerous. 
The lungs are retained in place by the pulmonary 
arteries and veins, bronchial tubes and vessels, and 
pulmonary nerves. 
The Trachea extends from the larynx, (which is, 
indeed, the upper part of the trachea)—to the third 
dorsal vertebra. At this point, it divides into two 
parts, called bronchia. I will describe the structure 
of the trachea and bronchia, when I explain their 
functions. 
'The number of air-cells in the lungs is almost in- 
conceivable. They have been estimated as high as 
one thousand seven hundred millions. Were the inner 
surface of these cells spread upon a plain, or level 
surface, the aggregate, or whole extent, would bo 
more than thirty times greater than the surface of the 
whole body. 
Fred.—Why, Father, you surprise me by such a 
statement, as you have often done before ! But what 
benefit is such a great number of air-cells, and such 
an extent of surface ? 
Father.—This structure of the lungs is as benefi- 
cial as it is wonderful, and I will explain it at the 
right time. But that you may the better understand 
it, I must first acquaint you with other facts. 
The Trachea, or Windpipe, is made up of rings 
formed of cartilage, and placed near each other, form- RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
145 
The windpipe, why made of cartilage. 
ng a continuous tube which is kept open by the hard 
nd firm nature of the cartilage. You can feel the 
iard, bony structure of the windpipe by placing the 
higers on the throat. 
Now tell me, my children; can you assign any good 
eason why the windpipe is made of hard, bony rings, 
md the gullet, which conveys the food to the stomach, 
is soft and yielding, and is always closed, or collapsed, 
only when it is opened by the passage of food ? 
Fred.—I suppose it was made in this fashion that 
we may breathe and talk easily. 
Frank.—I cannot think why it was made so, unless 
it was that we might laugh heartily. 
Mary.—Well, Father, I think it was so that we 
might sing, clearly. 
Father.—Do you not see, if the windpipe was soft 
and yielding, like the gullet, that when we draw in 
breath, the sides of the pipe would be drawn in, or 
would fall together, so as to prevent the air from 
passing into the lungs ? 
The windpipe was made of the firm, unyielding 
cartilage, for the very purpose of keeping the passage 
for air to the lungs constantly open. Had it been 
made otherwise, life would be in danger every moment. 
How clearly we can trace in this, the thoughts of the 
Creator when he designed and made the lungs. 
Fred.—I never before thought why the windpipe 
was made so hard. How kind it was of God to make 146 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Bronchial tubes and air-cells. 
it so that it could not close up when we drew ii 
breath. 
Frank.—I never thought any thing about it. 
Mary.—Nor I, neither, but I shall, in the future 
think much about it. 
Father.—Bronchial tubes. The windpipe divide 
into two branches, called bronchial tubes, one of wliicl 
passes into the right, and one into the left lung; and 
these branches continue to divide, and subdivide into 
tubes, smaller and smaller, until they become invisible 
to the naked eye, each ending, as before stated, in a 
minute air-cell. 
Fig. 30. 
BRONCHIAL TUBES AND AIR-CELLS'. 
Fig. 30. 1, a bronchial tube, divided into three branches; 2,2,2, air-cells; 3, 
brandies of the pulmonary artery winding around the air-cells with the dark 
blood to be reddened. 
In the act of breathing, every time we inhale the 
air, or take in breath, these air-cells are filled with 
air, which is immediately exhaled, or thrown out of 
the lungs, and a fresh supply is again inhaled, and 
then exhaled,' and thus the process of breathing goes 
on from the first to the last moment of life. 
Now can you tell me what benefit there is in con- RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
147 
Oxygen and nitrogen. 
itantly drawing air into the lungs, and throwing it 
)ut again, or, in other words, inconstantly breathing? 
Frank.—We could not live without breathing ! 
Father.—But why could we not live without breath- 
ng? 
Frank.—I do not know, Father, how it is, but I 
mow that I should not live long, if I did not breathe. 
But how breathing keeps me alive, I cannot tell. I 
wish you would explain it. Do we live upon air? 
Father.—Yes ; we live upon air, as much as we live 
upon food. And the demand for air is much more 
constant and urgent, than for food. We can live 
weeks without eating, but we cannot live minutes 
without breathing. 
Frank.—I know it is so, Father; but how can the 
lungs, drawing in, and blowing out air, like a great 
bellows, support life ? 
Father.—THc lungs are one of the most important 
organs of the body, and there arc no others, if we 
except the heart and brain, upon the function of which, 
life so immediately depends. Do you recollect that 
St. Paul, in his memorable speech to the Athenians 
on Mar’s hill, says, " He giveth us life and breath, and 
all things !” Here, St. Paul speaks of breath as one 
of the peculiar gifts of God. I will now explain the 
manner in which air, taken into the lungs, sustains 
life. 
The air wo breathe, called atmospheric air, is com- 148 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Uses of oxygen and nitrogen. 
posed of two gases, called oxygen and nitrogen gas. 
in the proportions of about twenty-one parts oxygen 
and seventy-nine nitrogen, with the addition of a smal 
percentage of carbonic acid and vapor. Oxygen is the 
vital principle of the air, and supports all animal anc 
vegetable life. The oxygen is taken up by the blooe 
in the lungs, and conveyed through all parts of tin 
body. 
Frank.—Father, how does the oxygen get into the 
blood? 
Father.—You recollect what I told you relative to 
the minute air-cells of the lungs,—that the'inner sur- 
face of these cells, if spread out, would be thirty 
times greater than the surface of the body, or would 
be larger than the floor of a room, twenty-five feet 
square. 
Frank.—Yes, I recollect that, but what has that to 
do with the oxygen of the air getting into the blood ? 
Father.—It has a great deal to do with it, as I was 
about to explain. 
Oxygen has a greater affinity for, or is more dis- 
posed to unite with blood, than to remain united with 
nitrogen; and as the blood passes through the minute 
blood-vessels of the air-cells, which are very thin 
membranes, the oxygen separates from the nitrogen, 
passes through this membrane, and is absorbed by the 
blood; and this large extent of surface of the lungs, 
or air-cells, is to bring and keep a large amount of air RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
149 
How breathing sustains life. 
i contact willi the blood. The blood, you recollect, 
jscs its bright vermilion color, while circulating in 
le capillaries, and in the veins it presents a dark 
urple color, or is nearly black. 
The cause of this dark color of the blood is as fol- 
>ws:—A poisonous agent, called carbonic acid, is 
>rmed in the system, and is taken up by the blood, 
while passing through the capillaries, and this renders 
the blood unfit for further use until the carbonic acid 
is, in some way removed; and this is accomplished in 
the following manner. 
The dark venous blood, containing the carbonic 
acid, is carried to the heart by the veins, and, by the 
action of the heart, is conveyed to the lungs ; and the 
carbonic acid, having a greater affinity for, and being 
more disposed to unite with atmospheric air, than to 
remain with the blood, passes out through the sides 
of the air-cells and mingles with the air in the lungs, 
and is thrown off from them with the breath. 
These two important objects arc accomplished by 
every breath of air taken into, and expelled from the 
lungs,—the vital principle of the air—the oxygen, is 
absorbed, or taken up by the blood, and the poisonous 
carbonic acid is thrown off. And this process is 
going on during every moment of life, asleep or.awake, 
—absorbing oxygen with every breath inhaled, and 
throwing off carbon with every breath exhaled. 
In this way, the dark colored, impure blood, is 150 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Carbon, bow generated. 
relieved of its impurities, and by absorbing the oxyge: 
of the air, again assumes the bright scarlet color, am 
is endowed anew with the principle essential to life. 
Fred.—How wonderful are the ways and works o 
God ! But I wish to ask, Iioav much air is taken int 
the lungs at each breath, and how much oxygen i 
taken up by the blood ? 
Father.—A common sized man inhales about forty 
cubic, or solid inches of air, at each inspiration, and 
the blood absorbs two cubic inches of oxygen, which 
is thirty-six cubic inches a minute, or twenty-one 
hundred and sixty per hour, or thirty cubic feet per 
day. 
Fred.—Does the blood absorb all the oxygen of the 
air taken into the lungs ? 
Father.—No, only about one-fourth of it is taken 
up by the blood at the first inspiration. But if we 
inhale the same air several successive times, addi- 
tional portions of the oxygen will be absorbed each 
time. 
Frank.—And how much carbonic acid is thrown 
off? 
Father.—There is a less quantity of carbon exhaled, 
or thrown off, than oxygen inhaled, there being about 
twenty cubic inches per minute, or over sixteen cubic 
feet per day. 
Mary.—Father, how docs the poisonous carbon get 
into the blood? EENDEEED ATTEACTIVE. 
151 
The blood, how purified. 
Father.—It is generated or produced by the 
langes that take place during the process of nutrition, 
nd had there not been some way provided by the 
reator, by which it could be thrown olf, it would 
use death in a few moments. In proof of this, I 
;ed only cite the fact, that if one ceases to breathe, 
ji* " holds the breath,” for only a few seconds, the 
carbon retained in the blood, which should have been 
thrown off with the breath, causes the face to turn 
purple or black. 
I will now repeat, in a few words, that you may the 
better understand it, the substance of what I have 
said in regard to the blood. 
In the arteries, it is of a bright scarlet color, con- 
taining all the elements of nutrition obtained both 
from the food and from the air while passing through 
the lungs. While circulating through the capillaries, 
the nutriment is absorbed, or taken up by the tissues, 
or parts through which it flows, and at the same time, 
the blood is filled with carbonic acid,—a poisonous 
gas, which renders the blood unfit for further use until 
it is relieved of the carbon. 
It is then returned by the veins, to the heart and 
lungs, where the carbon is taken up by, or unites 
with, the air in the lungs, and is thrown off with the 
breath. And this process is going on during every 
moment of life. The blood is absorbing, with every 
breath, the vital principle from the air in the lungs, 152 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
and carrying it to, and depositing it, in every part ( 
the body, giving life and vigor to the system; and 
also, with every breath, throwing off the poisoi 
which, if retained in the blood, would instantly can; 
death. We might in truth say, that with every brea' 
we inhale life, and exhale death. 
And what kindness it was in our Maker, so to foiv 
the lungs, and all the parts concerned, that this vital 
process goes on without a moment’s cessation, by day 
and by night, without a thought, or a moment’s care 
of ours. 
Fred.—How stupid and thoughtless I am,—always 
to have been breathing, and never before to have 
known, or even to have thought, of the wonderful facts 
you have told us ! 
But I wish to ask what becomes of the carbon that 
is constantly thrown off by the lungs ? I should think 
the air would become poisonous in the course of time, 
and unfit for use. 
jFather.—It certainly would, had not God, in the 
arrangements of his works, appointed a beneficial use 
for what otherwise would have been destructive in its 
effects. 
Carbon, that is poisonous to man and beast, is the 
food upon which vegetables live. It is the nutriment 
of trees and plants, as oxygen is of man and beast. 
And while all vegetables absorb carbon, which is 
exhaled or thrown off by animals, they, in turn, exhale 
Carbon, food for vegetables. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
153 
Oxygen, support of animal life. 
xygen for the support of animal life ; and thus the 
alance is preserved between the amount of oxygen 
equired for man, and carbon for vegetables, and the 
ir is thus kept in a condition to sustain both animal 
id vegetable life. 
There is another fact to which I wish to call your 
Mention,—a fact, of which, perhaps, you have never 
thought. 
To sustain life, wo must breathe every moment; 
but we need food but two or three times in twenty- 
four hours. Now think of the goodness manifested 
in providing for these wants. 
The air, without which we could scarcely live one 
minute, surrounds, envelops, and presses upon us, as 
the water does upon the fish in the ocean. We could 
not get away from it if we would. It is ever present 
with us, and always ready for use. It surrounds the 
whole earth, and rises forty or fifty miles above its 
surface. 
But food, which we need to use but seldom, is pro- 
vided in small quantities, and we keep it laid by to bo 
used when needed. Were a man obliged to travel 
where he could get no food, he could easily take with 
him a supply for two or three days. But if he were 
obliged to take a supply of air for two days, it would 
require more than sixty hogsheads—a rather cumber- 
some load. ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
Moral reflection. 
Let us now close this social interview, impresse 
with the wonderful provision our heavenly Father hr 
made for our physical, or bodily wants, and for tl 
continuance of life, and the enjoyment of health. CONVERSATION XI. 
THE CIRCULATION OE THE BLOOD. 
The heart, a description of—TnE heart a double organ—The 
AURICLES AND VENTRICLES OF THE HEART—THE FUNCTION OF THE 
HEART Its MODE OF ACTION THE VALVES OF THE HEART THE 
ARTERIES COMMUNICATE WITH EACH OTHER—TlIE VELOCITY OF THE 
BLOOD IN THE ARTERIES DESCRIPTION OF THE CAPILLARIES 
Capillary circulation—Description of the veins, their 
FUNCTION. 
Father.—Having given you, at our last meeting, a 
brief description of the structure and function of the 
lungs, and the changes produced in the blood while 
passing through them, by absorbing the vital and life- 
giving qualities of the air;—and imparting to the air 
in the lungs, and throwing olf with the breath, its 
poisonous and deadly qualities,—I shall now resume 
a description of the circulation of the blood. 
The blood may now be regarded as a nutritive fluid, 
containing all the necessary principles or ingredients 
for the formation and nourishment of every part of 
the body. 
Fred.—You have repeatedly spoken of the circula- 
tion of the blood, and of the vessels in which it flows, ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The heart a hollow organ. 
but you have never told us what causes the blood t< 
circulate. 
Father.—The organ provided expressly for tha 
purpose, is the Heart, which is one of the most won 
derful organs of the body, whether we consider it, 
mechanical structure, or the importance of its funo 
tion. It is placed in the left side of the chest, bet,wee 
the right and left lung. It is shaped somewhat like 
a cone with the small end down. 
Fig. 31. 
THE HEART. 
Fig. 31. 1, is Hie right auricle; 2, the left auricle; 3, the right ventricle; 4, 
the left ventricle; 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,10, the vessels which bring blood to, and carry it 
away from the heart. 
The heart is composed principally of muscular fibres, 
■which run in different directions, some longitudinally, 
or lengthwise, but most of them around, or in a spiral 
direction. 
The heart is a hollow organ, having four cavities, 
or rather it is a double organ having two sides, the ItENDEKED ATTRACTIVE. 
157 
Auricles and ventricles. 
•ight and left, each side having two cavities, called 
he Au'-ri-de and the Ven'-tri-cle, which communicate 
vith each other. The auricles are connected with the 
veins, and the ventricles with the arteries. The right 
luricle is connected with, and receives the blood from, 
the largest vein in the body, formed by the union of 
the ascending and descending Ve'-na Ca'-va, which 
will be more fully explained hereafter. 
The right ventricle is connected with the Pul'-mon- 
etary artery, which carries the blood from the heart to 
the lungs. The left auricle is connected with the pul- 
monary veins, which return the blood from the lungs 
to the heart, and the left ventricle is connected with 
the largest artery in the body, called the A-orh-a, 
which, Avith its numerous branches, distributes the 
blood to all parts of the body. 
Fred.—But, Father, you do not tell us how the 
heart causes the blood to circulate. You say it is 
hollow, and has four cavities, but that explains nothing, 
for the arteries and veins are hollow too. Hollow 
organs may allow the blood to flow through them, but 
what is it that forces the blood along ? 
Father.—I have told you, my son, that it was the 
heart, and that the heart is a muscular organ, and 
that most of the muscular fibres run around it. Now 
what have I told you in regard to the action of mus- 
cles ? in what way do they perform their action ? 
Fred.—By contracting and relaxing. 158 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Action of the heart explained. 
Father.—Well, if the muscles, which run around 
the heart contract, what will be the effect ? 
Fred.—O, I see now, Father. The muscles con- 
tracting, draw the heart together and make the cavities 
smaller, and if they are filled with blood, it must 
force it out. Is that right ? 
Father.—That is correct, and I am pleased to see 
that you understand it. 
The alternate contraction and relaxation of the heart, 
—-what is called beating, or pulsation of the heart, 
takes place about seventy-five or eighty times a minute, 
forcing from each ventricle about two ounces of blood 
at each contraction or pulsation. 
I will now explain the action of the heart, as I per- 
ceive you are now able to understand it. 
The blood is received from the veins into the right 
auricle, which, by contracting, forces it into the right 
ventricle. The ventricle then contracts, and forces 
the blood through the pulmonary artery into the lungs. 
Frank.—Does the auricle remain contracted until 
the ventricle contracts ? 
Father.—No, the auricle relaxes when the ventricle 
contracts. 
Frank.—Why then does not the blood flow back 
into the auricle, instead of going to the lungs? 
Father.—Because Gfod has provided a valve be- 
tween the auricle and ventricle, called the tri-cus'-pid, 
which allows the blood to flow from the auricle to the RENDERED ATTRACTIVE 
159 
Circulation illustrated. 
ventricle, but when the ventricle contracts, the valve 
closes and prevents the blood from flowing back into 
Fig. 32. 
Fig. 32. An ideal illustration of the whole circulation. In explaining this 
figure. I shall repeat some things I have already said in explaining the circula- 
tion, hoping thereby to make it plain.—From the right ventricle of the heart, 
2, the dark blood is thrown into the pulmonary artery, 3, and its branches, 4, 4, 
carry it to both lungs. In the capillary vessels, 6, 6, the blood comes in con- 
tact with the air, and becomes red and vitalized. Thence it is returned to the 
left auricle of the heart, 9, by the veins, 7, 8. Thence it passes into the left ven- 
tricle, 10. A forcible contraction of this sends it forward into the aorta, 11. 
Its, 12, 13,13, distribute it to all parts of the body. The arteries terminate in 
the capillaries, 14,14. Here the blood loses its redness, and goes back to the 
right auricle, 1, by two great veins, 15,16, called vena cava, one from the upper, 
and the other from the lower extremities. The tricuspid valves, 17, prevent the 
re-flow of the blood from the right ventricle to the right auricle. 160 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Valves of the heart. 
the auricle; and as it cannot flow back, it is forced 
into the pulmonary artery, and the ventricle ther 
relaxes. 
Frank.—I should think, that when the ventricle 
relaxes, the blood would flow back into it from the 
pulmonary artery. 
Father.—So it would, had there been nothing to 
prevent. But the Creator has placed another valve,— 
the sem-i-lu'-nar, at the mouth of the pulmonary 
artery, which allows the blood to flow from the ven- 
tricle to the artery, but closes when the ventricle 
relaxes, and thus prevents the blood from flowing 
back, and conseqently it is driven forward into the 
lungs, where it unloads the poisonous carbonic acid, 
and absorbs from the air, the life-giving oxygen, as I 
have before explained. 
Thus far, the heart has only received the blood from 
the veins and conveyed it to the lungs,—and this is 
all the right side of the heart has to do. But the 
blood being now fitted to nourish the system, must 
be circulated through every part of the body, and this 
important function is assigned to the left side of the 
heart. 
The blood is now collected from the lungs by the 
pulmonary veins, and returned to the left auricle, the 
contraction of which throws it into the left ventricle. 
The left ventricle now contracts, closing the mi'-tral 
Valve placed between it and the auricle, and forces RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
161 
The pulmonic and systemic circulation. 
the blood into the aorta—the main artery of the body, 
at the mouth of which is another semilunar valve, 
which prevents the blood from flowing back from the 
aorta to the ventricle. 
This artery divides and subdivides, like the branches 
of a tree, into extremely small vessels, which dis- 
tribute the blood to every part of the system, as I 
have before said. 
Thus you see the blood passes twice through the 
heart while making one revolution through the body. 
1st. It passes from the right side of the heart to 
the -lungs, to be vitalized by the air. 
2d. It then goes, through the pulmonary veins, to 
the left side of the heart, the contraction of which 
propels it through thousands of tubes situated in every 
part of the body. 
The passage of the blood from the right side of the 
heart, through the lungs, and its return to the left 
side, is called the pulmonic, or lesser circulation. Its 
passage from the left side through all portions of the 
body, and its return to the right side, is the systemic, 
or greater circulation. 
Frank.—Father, it seems to me, that the left side 
of the heart has much more labor to do than the right 
side;—for it must require a much greater force to 
propel the blood through the entire body, than simply 
through the lungs. 
Father.—You are correct, my son. The force re- 162 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
Description of the arteries. 
quired to be exerted by the left side of the heart b 
far greater than that of the right. And, in accordance 
with this fact, we find the walls of the left ventricle 
much thicker, and therefore capable of exerting i 
much greater force, than those of the right. But 1 
must now give you a description of the arteries. 
The Arteries are tubes composed of three coats. 
The external or outside coat is firm and strong. The 
middle, consisting of fibres, is elastic, and thicker 
than the external one. The inside coat is a thin mem- 
brane which lines the interior of the artery, and gives 
it a smooth, polished surface, so that the blood may 
flow through it without friction. 
The arteries communicate with each other freely,— 
that is, branches run off from one to another, forming 
a connection between the two. 
Frank.—But why do the arteries run together and 
form communications with each other? You told us 
that they kept dividing like the branches of a tree. 
Father.—While we are pursuing the various occu- 
pations of life, the arteries are liable to be compressed, 
so as to prevent a free flow of blood through them. 
This would be injurious, if not fatal, and the Creator, 
therefore, has wisely and kindly formed this connec- 
tion of the arteries with each other, so that the circu- 
lation can still go on.—There is another reason why 
the arteries should communicate with each other. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
163 
Danger of wounding an artery. 
The Surgeon, in case of injury, is sometimes obliged 
to tie up an artery so as permanently to prevent the 
flow of blood through it. 
What then would be the condition of the part, had 
there not been a way provided by which the blood, as 
it accumulates in the wounded artery, could flow oflf 
into others ? It cannot return to the heart and vacate 
the artery, for the heart, at every pulsation, is throw- 
ing the blood into it with great force. It must, 
therefore, remain stagnant, and would soon putrify 
and destroy the life of the part, if not of the whole 
body. 
There is another interesting fact. To injure an 
artery by a cut, bruise, or in any other way, is far 
more dangerous than to wound a vein. 
The arteries, therefore, as a means of safety, are 
laid deep in the flesh, near the bones, and in some 
places the bones are grooved out to form a passage 
for them, so that if the part should be cut to the 
bone, the artery would remain uninjured. 
Fred.—These facts certainly show the kind care of 
our heavenly Father, in guarding our bodies from 
accident and danger, and providing for our safety. 
But I wish to ask, why there is more danger in wound- 
ing an artery than a vein ? 
Father.—For two reasons :—1st. By the action of 
the heart, the blood is pressed into the arteries with 
great force, as I shall soon explain, and, therefore, if 164 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Velocity of arterial circulation. 
one of them is cut or wounded, the blood rushes out 
in an impetuous stream, and unless immediately and 
permanently checked, which is not an easy thing 
always to do, life is in imminent danger;—whereas, in 
the veins, the force employed to circulate the blood, is 
comparatively small, and, therefore, but little danger 
results from cutting or wounding one of them. 
2d. The blood in the arteries contains the life-giving 
qualities upon which the body lives; whereas the 
blood in the veins is charged with a poisonous gas 
which renders it unfit to nourish the body; therefore 
the loss of a small quantity of arterial blood is a 
greater injury than the loss of a large quantity of 
venous blood. 
FranJc.—You say, Father, that the blood is pressed 
into the arteries with great force ; will you tell us how 
fast the blood flows in the arteries ? 
Father.—In the large arteries it flows at the rate of 
sixty feet per minute, or one foot per second, each 
pulsation or beat of the heart throwing the blood 
nearly a foot. 
1Frank.—Father, you alarm me ! Is the blood rush- 
ing through our bodies at such a fearful rate, and yet 
we feel nothing of it ? 
Father.—This is the rate at which the blood flows 
when our bodies are in a quiet state. When excited 
by violent exercise, as in running, lifting, etc., the 
velocity or rate of speed is greatly increased, amount- RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
165 
The capillaries—their function. 
ng, often, doubtless, to more than a hundred feet per 
ninute. But the rate of speed is not so great in the 
‘apillarics and veins, as I shall hereafter show. 
Fred.—How can exercise cause the blood to flow 
with greater speed ? I thought you said it was the 
heart that caused the blood to circulate through the 
body. 
Father.—You have proposed a question upon a very 
nteresting subject, my son, and I will answer it when 
iving a description of the veins, which I shall do 
eforc we close this conversation; but I must flrst 
ive a brief description of the Capillaries. 
The Capillaries are minute tubes, situated between 
the small arteries and veins, and form a communica- 
tion between the two. They form a perfect network 
throughout every part of the body, and arc so very 
small that they can be seen only by the use of the 
microscope,—their diameter being only one three- 
thousandth of an inch,—or, in other words, three 
thousand capillary tubes, laid side by side, would 
extend but one inch, and these arc the extremely small 
blood vessels to which I referred, when speaking of 
the lacteals that absorb the chyle. 
The capillaries are very numerous, there being many 
millions, and are situated in every organ and fibre of 
the body. The finest needle, introduced beneath the 
skin, is sure to wound several of these minute vessels, 
from which the blood instantly starts. 166 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Nutriment obtained only in the capillary circulation. 
One remarkable fact in regard to the capillary cir 
culation is, that it has no particular and definite clirec 
tion, but flows in every possible and conceivable 
direction, thus bringing the blood, while in the capil 
laries, in contact with every particle of the body. 
Frank.—But why is it, Father, that the circulation 
of the blood in the capillaries, is so different from 
that of the arteries and veins ? 
Father.—It is for the reason that the body receive; 
nutriment from the blood only in the capillary circul; 
tion. The arteries and veins are simply tubes or pipe; 
in which the blood flows from one part of the body t 
another; the same as the water flows from the Cochit 
uate lake to this city, through the large pipes laid foi 
that purpose. 
The body can no more obtain nutriment from the 
blood while circulating in the arteries and veins, than 
the citizens of Boston can obtain benefit from the 
Cochituate water while flowing from the lake to the 
city in the water pipes. 
It is during the capillary circulation alone, that the 
system obtains nourishment from the blood; and, 
therefore, it is very slow,—being only two inches per 
minute, thus affording time for the absorption of 
nutriment by the tissues of the body. 
The color of the blood is seen only in the capilla- 
ries. If the hands, or any part of the body, be im- 
mersed, for a short time, in warm water, the surface RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
167 
The veins—their function. 
becomes red, in consequence of a rush of blood into 
the capillaries. 
A glow of health often renders the countenance so 
florid and blooming, that, if the attempt were ever 
made by ladies, to excel nature by art, we should 
sometimes be at a loss to decide whether the tints of 
the cheeks were natural or artificial. 
The capillary circulation is affected greatly by men- 
tal emotion. Thus a sense of shame causes a rush of 
blood to the surface, producing what is called, a blush. 
The sensation of terror, or fright, drives the blood 
from the surface, causing a pallid countenance. 
The Veins, as I have already informed you, are tho 
vessels which return the blood to the heart, after it 
has been circulated through the arteries and capillaries, 
to all parts of the body. 
They originate in, or are connected with, the capil- 
laries, by minute branches, which, running together, 
form tubes larger and larger, until they all unite in 
two large veins, called the ascending and descending 
Ve'-na Ca'-va, the descending returning the blood 
from the upper, and the ascending from the lower 
extremities of the body, and uniting and forming one 
vein just as it enters the right auricle of the heart. 
The veins are provided with valves, which allow 
the blood to flow freely from the capillaries to tho 
heart, but prevent its returning from the heart towards 168 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Veins supplied with valves. 
the capillaries, and in this respect, are unlike the 
arteries, which have no valves. 
Fred.—I do not see, Father, what good valves can 
do in the veins, as there is nothing to force the blood 
back from the heart, and yet, if there are valves, I. 
know they arc placed there for an important purpose. 
Will you please tell us what it is ? 
Father.—I will explain it, and in doing so, I shall 
answer the question you proposed, not long since, 
" how exercise increases the velocity of the circulation 
of the blood.” 
The veins are situated among the voluntary muscles, 
which, a great part of the time, arc in a state of alter- 
nate contraction and relaxation. At every contraction, 
these muscles become rigid, or hard and swollen, and 
consequently press upon the veins which run between 
them. This pressure upon the veins, forces the blood 
out of that part upon which the pressure is made, and 
as the valves prevent its returning back, it must, of 
course, be forced onward towards the heart. When 
the muscle relaxes and relieves the vein from the 
pressure, it again fills with blood, and the muscle 
again contracts, and forces the blood forward as before. 
And the more frequent the contraction of the muscles, 
or, in other words, the more violent the movements 
of the body, the more rapidly will the blood be forced 
along the veins, to the heart. 
Frank.—I see now, Father, how bodily exercise RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
169 
Why exercise increases the circulation. 
piickens the flow of blood in the veins ; but I cannot 
jee how it can increase the action of the heart, so as 
;o cause it to beat more rapidly, as I have noticed it 
ilways does. 
Father.—If the pressure upon the veins by the 
action of the muscles which I have described, causes 
the blood to flow more rapidly through the veins, it 
will, of course, be forced more abundantly into the 
heart, and the heart must necessarily increase its 
exertion to keep itself clear,—as the crew of a leaking, 
sinking ship, increase the action of the pumps when 
the water rushes in so as to endanger their lives ;— 
the increased quantity of blood acting as a stimulus 
to the heart. 
Frank.—I understand now why the heart beats 
more rapidly, when we take exercise. But it is a 
mystery to me—and it is what I have thought of a 
great deal,—why exercise should cause us to breathe 
more frequently. Because breathing, you know, has 
nothing to do with the circulation of the blood,—it is 
only taking air into the lungs, and tin-owing it out 
again. 
Father.—That is a very interesting inquiry, my 
son. But, as it seems to me, that I have given you 
sufficient information, to enable you, by close thinking, 
to solve the problem yourself, and as our conversation 
has already been too long, I will leave the question 
for you to think upon till our next meeting, hoping 
that you will then be able to answer it yourself. CONVERSATION XII. 
THE CERCULATION OF THE BLOOD CONTINUED. 
The force exerted by the heart—The heart never becomes 
fatigued—The quantity of blood that passes through the 
nEART—The heart-case—Quantity of blood in man—Animal 
HEAT, THEORIES AS TO HOW IT IS PRODUCED LlFE DEPENDS ON 
A UNIFORM STANDARD OF HEAT ANIMAL HEAT THE SAME IN ALL 
COUNTRIES. 
Father.—Well, my dear children, I hope you aro 
prepared to answer the question proposed by Frank 
at the close of our last conversation:—” why we 
breathe more frequently when taking exercise than at 
other times.” 
Frank.—We have been thinking upon it, Father, 
and talking it over; and I think we can give the right 
answer,—hut we are not certain until you answer a 
question which we wish to propose. 
Father.—Well, Frank, what is the question? 
Frank.—We wish to know if the blood has always 
the same amount of oxygen and carbon in it. 
Father.—I do not understand you. Please make 
out your meaning. 
Frank.—I mean—that— 171 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
Why exercise causes frequent breathing. 
Fred.—Please let me state the question, Father. 
think I can make you understand it. 
We want to know, if the blood, as it comes from 
he heart to the lungs, has the same amount of carbon 
1 it, whether it comes slowly or fast; and, also, if it 
bsorbs the same quantity of oxygen,—that is, does 
a given amount of blood absorb the same amount of 
oxygon, whether it passes through the lungs rapidly 
or slowly ? 
Father.—I understand you now. Frederick has 
stated it very clearly, and I am beginning to think, 
from the question, that you have the correct answer. 
The blood does contain the same amount of carbon, 
and absorbs the same quantity of oxygen, whether it 
flows rapidly or slowly. 
Frank.—Then it is plain, that if the blood flows 
more rapidly through the lungs during active exercise, 
the breathing also, must be more frequent, that the 
blood may be supplied with oxygen, and, also, that 
the carbon may be conveyed from the lungs. 
Father.—I am happy to assure you that your answer 
is correct.. The velocity, or rapidity of the circula- 
tion of the blood, and the frequency of breathing, are 
always in perfect accordance, and it is so for the 
reasons that you have stated. 
I now wish to call your attention to some inter- 
esting facts in regard to the action of the heart, which 
I have purposely deferred until I had made you ac- 172 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Organs of the chest and abdomen. 
Fig. 33. 
A FRONT VIEW OF MANY OF THE ORGANS BOTH OF THE 
CHEST AND ABDOMEN. 
Fig. 33. 1,1,1, l, are the muscles of the chest; 2, 2,2, 2, the ribs; 3, 3, 3, the 
upper, middle, and lower lobes of the right lung; 4, 4, the lobes of the left 
lung; 5, the right ventricle of the heart; 6, the left ventricle; 7, the right auri- 
cle of the heart; 8, the left auricle; 9, the pulmonary artery; 10, the aorta; 11, 
the descending vena cava; 12, the windpipe; 13, the oesophagus; 14,14,14,14, 
the pleura; 15,15,15, the diaphragm; 10,10, the right and left lobes of the 
liver; 17, the gall bladder; 18, the stomach; 26, the spleen; 19.19, the duode- 
num; 20, the ascending colon; 21, the transverse colon; 25, the descending 
colon; 22,22,22,22, the small intestine; 23, 23, the walls of the abdomen 
turned down; 24, the thoracic duct', opening into the left subclavian vein (27). RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
173 
Tlie force of the heart,—is never fatigued. 
juainted with the facts contained in our last conver- 
ation. 
I have already informed you that the alternate con- 
raction and relaxation of the muscles of the heart, is 
he principal agent or cause of the circulation of the 
fioocl through the body. There has been a variety 
of opinions among the learned, as to the amount of 
force required to be exerted by the heart, to propel 
\e blood through so many millions of minute vessels, 
le force exerted has been variously estimated, as 
jual to from sixty to one thousand pounds weight; 
some of the most learned place it at four hundred 
mds. We will, therefore, suppose that to be 
correct. 
Now, just think of the following facts. 
Here is a muscular organ, exerting a force,—not 
once an hour, nor once a minute, but seventy-five or 
eighty times a minute, equal to four hundred pounds 
weight,—and that organ never becomes fatigued, al- 
though its rapid action may be continued for seventy- 
fve or a hundred years, Nor could it stop one 
moment to rest, if it were fatigued, for should it stop, 
that moment we should die. 
I know of nothing in nature that will explain the 
fact, that a muscular organ is exerting a force equal 
to four hundred pounds weight, seventy-live times a 
minute, for fifty or one hundred years, and never 
becomes fatigued! 174 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
How the heart wears. 
Fred.—Why, Father ! how can that be ? 
Father.—I do not know, Frederick. The onl 
answer I can give is, that God saw that it was neces 
sary—for we could not live without it—and, therefore 
made the heart with capacities dilferent from all othe 
muscular organs of the body; for, let one attempt t 
keep, even a ten pound weight in motion with the 
hand, and how soon the arm will become fatigued. 
Again, one would suppose that such a force exertc 
by an organ within the system, would send a thrill 
pain, at each pulsation, through every fibre of t 
body, and would shake and convulse the body v 
awful tremors. But what is the fact ? Why, so e\ 
and uniform, and smooth, is the action of the heart, 
that not one person in a hundred, perhaps, is reminded 
once a month, that he has a heart. 
Again, think how the heart wears. Were it made 
of steel, it would not last a year; the valves, moved 
with such a force, would wear out. But the heart 
may continue in motion for a hundred years, and still 
be perfect in every part. 
Then, think of the quantity of blood which passes 
through the heart. I have already stated, that more 
than two ounces of blood, is expelled from the heart, 
into the arteries, at each pulsation. Consequently, 
not less than nine thousand six hundred ounces are 
thrown into the arteries and propelled through the 
body in one hour, which would amount to one thou- RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
175 
Heart protected by the heart-case. 
and four hundred pounds per day, and in seventy-five 
rears, would form a pond of blood more than a quarter 
>f a mile square, and five feet deep. If you will 
)lace your ear upon the left breast of a person, over 
he heart, you will hear a sound like the rushing of a 
mighty cataract. 
Mary.—Why, Father, you frighten me ! 
Father.—These facts do seem somewhat frightful, 
Mary, because the least derangement in any of this 
wonderful and complicated action of the heart, would 
cause immediate death. The numerous cases of per- 
sons dropping down dead, is proof of the truth of 
this statement. 
Fred.—I should think, Father, that the heart would 
be chafed and irritated, by rubbing against the sur- 
rounding parts, as it is all the time in motion. 
Father.—Such, no doubt, would be the case, had 
not its safety been specially provided for. The 
Creator, knowing the value of the heart, has protected 
it from harm, by surrounding it with a sac, called the 
Fer'-i-car'-di-um, or heart-case, the inner surface of 
which, secretes a slippery fluid, that lubricates the 
outside, or exterior of the heart, and thereby prevents 
friction between it and the heart-case. In a healthy 
condition, there is about a tcaspoonful of this fluid in 
the heart-case. 
Now, my dear children, can we fully appreciate the 
goodness of the Creator, in so forming the heart, that 176 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Facts about the blood. 
it performs all the wonderful and important function 
which I have described, entirely independent of ou 
effort or care ? 
How long do you think we should have lived, hac 
any part of this process been entrusted to us ? 
Fred.—I do not think, Father, that I have ever 
appreciated the goodness of God, in regard to these 
truly interesting and wonderful facts. But I hope to 
do better in the future, and not live so thoughtless of 
the goodness that keeps me alive every moment. 
Father.—I am glad to hear you say so, for if these 
facts will not impress us with a sense of God’s good- 
ness, and our duty to love and obey him, I know not 
what will. 
I wish now to make you acquainted with some in- 
teresting facts in regard to the blood. 
I have briefly explained the manner in which the 
blood is formed and circulated through the body; by 
which, you see, that it contains both the nutriment of 
the food, and the vital principle of the air. It is to 
the body, what the sap is to the tree—its life. 
Fred.—Yes, Father, you have made that very plain; 
I think I understand it. And how wonderful it is ! 
Certainly, none but God could do it! But you have 
not told us how much blood there is in the body. I 
should be glad to know. I think there must be a great 
deal, for if I prick, or injure myself, the blood starts 
out immediately, and it appears as if the body was 
full of it. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
177 
Quantity of blood. 
Father.—The quantity of blood in a medium sized 
nan, is estimated at from twenty-four to thirty pounds, 
>r between three and four gallons, all of which, it is 
supposed, passes through the system every four 
ninutes. 
But. what I was about to speak of in particular, is 
;he natural warmth of the blood, or what is called 
animal heat, which consists in the ability of animal 
bodies—such as man and beast, to maintain nearly a 
uniform temperature, whether the surrounding atmos- 
phere is cold or hot. You know if you should take 
a bar of iron, and heat it to two or three hundred 
degrees, and then place it in air at a temperature of 
thirty or forty degrees, it would soon cool down to 
the temperature of the surrounding air, and there it 
would remain, and would change in temperature only 
as that of the air changed. But the case is very dif- 
ferent with living animals. The temperature of the 
blood in man, in a healthy state, is about 98 deg. of 
Fare illicit, aud it remains the same in summer and win- 
ter. But as the temperature of the air is nearly always 
below that of the human body, and for the greater 
part of the time, is far below, the heat of the body 
must be continually passing off into the surrounding 
atmosphere ; yet, notwithstanding the body is all the 
time losing heat, it does not cool down, like the bar 
of iron, but still maintains its uniform standard of 
heat. The extremities of the body, it is true, on a 178 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Animal heat—how produced. 
very cold day, may become cooled down considerabl} 
below the standard temperature; but the interna 
organs and the blood, remain the same under all ordi- 
nary exposure. It is, therefore, evident, that this 
vital, or animal heat, which is so constant and uniform, 
must, in some way, be generated in the body. 
Now, can you tell me how this heat originates ? 
Frank.—No, Father ! That is what I never thought 
of before. Do tell us. 
Father.—The origin of animal heat has been a 
fruitful theme of discussion among the learned, and 
various theories have been proposed to account for 
it;—but none, as yet, have given a satisfactory ex- 
planation. 
I will explain to you the most plausible theory,— 
that which for a time seemed satisfactory to physiolo- 
gists ;—but, that you may understand it, I must first 
explain the manner in which heat is produced by com- 
bustion,—that is, by the burning of wood, or coal, or' 
any other substance. It is produced by the chemical 
union of the oxygen of the air with the carbon of the 
wood or coal. 
You recollect I told you that the venous blood, as 
it comes into the lungs, is filled with carbon;—and it 
was believed that the oxygen of the air, inhaled in 
breathing, coming in contact with the carbon of the 
blood, produced a slow combustion in the lungs, and 
thereby generated the heat of the blood. RENDERED' ATTRACTIVE. 
179 
Theories of animal heat. 
Frank.—O, Father! that certainly explains it 
)eautifully,—only I should he afraid the lungs would 
jurn up. 
Father.—Well, my son, others, more learned than 
yourself, have thought " that explained ” the origin of 
leat "beautifully,” but they, like yourself, were too 
hasty in their conclusions. 
Frank.—That is just the way, Father. Whenever 
I think I see, either in my own views, or those of 
others, a correct solution of a problem, you at once 
pronounce it an error, and show that it is all wrong. 
But in this ease I have the consolation of having good 
company,—for you say that others, more learned 
than myself, have thought so. 
But, Father, I do not see how you can prove that 
it is not so, for certainly, oxygen and carbon, the union 
of which you say produces combustion, come together 
in the lungs, according to your own explanation. 
Father.—The theory that heat is generated in the 
lungs by combustion, is certainly a very beautiful and 
convenient one, but, like many others equally fine, is 
destitute of truth; and has been proved erroneous by 
the following facts :— 
1st. It has been found, that the blood in the lungs, 
is no warmer than in the other organs. 
2d. That the oxygen of the air inspired or taken 
into the lungs, is taken up by what is called the blood 
globules, and carried into the general circulation, 180 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Theories of animal heat. 
instead of uniting with the darbon of the blood in the 
lungs. 
Another theory, somewhat similar to the one I have 
named, is, that the blood receives chyle from the 
stomach, and oxygen from the lungs, and passes with 
them to the capillaries, where the oxygen unites with 
the decayed portions of the body, and changes them 
into carbonic acid', thus producing combustion, the 
same as when oxygen unites with wood or coal;—the 
oxygen of the new blood burning up a portion of the 
carbon in the capillaries, by which heat is given out,— 
the fresh chyle taking the place of the particles con- 
sumed. That the carbonic acid produced by this 
combustion in the capillaries is thrown olf by the 
lungs and skin, and that thus our bodies are kept 
warm by myriads of little fires in the capillaries. 
According to this theory of warming the body, the 
stomach provides the fuel, and the lungs the oxygen 
to consume it, and the arteries convey the fuel and 
fire to the capillaries, where the combustion takes 
place. The carbonic acid produced, is carried to the 
lungs by the veins, and to the skin by the pores, and, 
like smoke from a chimney, pours out of our mouth 
and nose, and pores of the skin. 
Liebig, the great German chemist, believed animal 
heat to be produced by the combustion of certain ele- 
ments of the food, while circulating in the blood. 
But this, as well as all previous theories, is now 
regarded as erroneous. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
181 
Opinions of the learned. 
Fred.—I thought, Father, you were goiug to tell 
s how animal heat is produced, but you have only 
old us how it is not produced. What use do you 
rish us to make of such information? 
Father.—This is one of the problems, of which it 
is easier to prove a negative, than an affirmative. 
Mary.—What do you mean, Father, by negative 
and affirmative ? 
Father.—B37 a negative, I mean what is not, or 
what does not exist. By an affirmative, I mean what 
is, or what does exist. 
Mary.—Then you mean to say, that it is easier to 
prove what does not produce animal heat, than what 
does produce it. 
Father.—Yes, my daughter, that is what I mean. 
Fred.—Well, Father, are you not going to tell us 
how animal heat is produced ? 
Father.—It appears to me to be a problem difficult, 
if not incapable of solution. No theory, perhaps, 
will ever be proposed to account for it, that will not 
be open to objections. It may be one of the secret 
operations of the Creator, which is beyond the scrutiny 
of man. 
Fred.—You have spoken of the opinions of learned 
men. Do not they give any other explanations than 
those you have named ? 
Father.—Yes, some recent writers upon the sub- 
ject, believe that the production of animal heat do- 182 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Effects of change of animal heat. 
pends upon certain chemical changes which take place 
in various organs and tissues of the body. And this 
is probably the correct theory. But until you are 
better acquainted with the science of chemistry, ] 
cannot explain it to you fully. But whether this 
theory will prove more satisfactory than its prede- 
cessors, or, whether like them, it is destined to be 
subverted and overthrown by a subsequent theory, is 
what I cannot predict with certainty. 
But whatever be the means by which the liCat of 
•the body is produced, one thing in regard to it is cer- 
tain, that life depends on its being maintained at about 
its natural standard. If the cold be so intense and 
long continued as to affect the general temperature of 
the blood, so that it becomes reduced more than five 
or six degrees below its natural standard, death is the 
inevitable result. When a person dies under these 
circumstances, he gradually becomes insensible and 
torpid, and the vital functions finally cease. 
This natural warmth of the body, is one of the 
greatest blessings bestowed upon us by our Creator, 
and yet it is one, which, perhaps, of all others, we 
enjoy with the least consciousness of its value. As I 
have already stated, a slight deviation from the natural 
standard of animal heat, results in immediate death. 
Now what would have been our condition, had not the 
Creator, in his goodness, endowed our bodies with 
power to generate, without any effort or care of ours, RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
183 
Animal heat everywhere the same. 
that degree of heat requisite to sustain life ? Life is 
sufficiently frail with present physical endowments. 
But, had the body been created without this power to 
generate heat, and, had we, consequently, been obliged 
to rely upon artificial heat to keep us warm, how long 
may we suppose life would have continued ? 
In that case, every apartment of our dwellings must 
be kept at a temperature of not less than ninety-eight 
degrees. And we could never leave our warm rooms 
to attend to the business and duties of life, for expo- 
sure to the cold air of winter, for a very few moments, 
would so reduce the heat of the body, that death would 
immediately follow. 
There is another fact in regard to animal heat, in 
which the goodness of the Creator is clearly mani- 
fested. I refer to its uniformity;—by which, I mean, 
that the standard of heat is the same in all persons in 
all nations of the earth. The temperature of the 
blood is the same in Europe as in America,—on the 
burning plains of Africa, as in the frozen regions of 
Greenland. 
That we may see the value and feel the force of this 
fact, let us suppose that it had been otherwise,—that 
there was no uniform standard of animal heat, and 
that in a family living together in the same house, A 
has a temperature of one hundred degrees, B of eighty 
degrees, C of sixty degrees, D of forty degrees, and 
E of twenty degrees. Now suppose these persons 184 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY . 
Necessity of uniform temperature. 
are all in a room in which the thermometer shows 
the heat to be sixty degrees. Will they all be 
equally comfortable ? 
Fred.—Why no, Father ! While A and B woulc7 
be freezing, D and E would be dying with heat. 
Father.—That is true. And if A and E, being 
brothers, should attempt to sleep together in the same 
bed, A would be a furnace to E, and E an iceberg to 
A. But, now, as the Creator has formed 11s, to per- 
sons in health, the same degree of temperature is 
equally agreeable to all. 
Frank.—O, Father, I never should have thought 
of these things ! How grateful we ought to be, that 
God has made us as we are. But what would be the 
effect, if the temperature of the blood, should, by any 
means, be raised above a healthy standard? 
Father.—It would be no less fatal to life, than when 
it falls below. If the temperature of the blood be 
raised but a few degrees above the natural standard, 
death will inevitably follow. Cases sometimes occur, 
in which intense heat of the sun, combined with vig- 
orous bodily exercise, so elevates the temperature of 
the blood, that sudden death is the result;—and the 
person is then said to die of " sun-stroke.” And such 
results would be of very frequent occurrence, and life 
would be in constant jeopardy in tropical climates, 
had not the Creator, in his goodness, devised means, 
s- \d endowed our bodies with power, to carry off this RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
185 
Latent and sensible heat. 
ixcess of heat. The means devised are as wonderful 
is they are beneficial; and are based upon a well 
mown principle in Natural Philosophy, which I will 
explain, as you have, as yet, made but little proficiency 
n that science. I must first remark, that there are 
two kinds of heat, or caloric, as it is sometimes 
called,—-free, or sensible, which can be felt, and latent, 
which cannot be felt. If you will keep this fact in 
mind, you will understand the principle to which I 
refer, which is, that solids, in passing into fluids, and 
fluids into vapor, absoy'b heat,—or sensible heat be- 
comes latent or insensible. On the contrary, vapor, 
in passing into fluids, and fluids into solids, give out 
heat, or latent heat becomes sensible. 
For example :—When ice thaws, the heat which 
elts it, becomes latent, or is absorbed, or taken up 
7 the water which the melting of the ice produces, 
nd if that water is evaporated, the heat that causes 
the evaporation is absorbed by the vapor, and becomes 
latent, and consequently insensible. 
If you immerse the hand in water, on removing it, 
there is a sensation of cold, until the hand becomes 
dry. This sensation of cold is produced by the heat 
being absorbed from the hand by the water, as it passes 
into vapor. 
Now, my children, do you understand this principle 
of Natural Philosophy which I have been explaining. 
Fred.—Yes, Father, you have explained it so 186 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Important principle explained. 
clearly, that we should be stupid indeed, if we did no 
understand it. But I never knew before, why m; 
hand, or any other part of my body that was wet, fel 
so cold when it was drying. I have noticed, tha 
after putting my hands into warm water, they gradu 
ally become cold, until they get dry, after which they 
become warm again. 
Father.—Well, I think now you will understand 
what I wish to say. 
This principle that I have been explaining, produces 
its effect upon the human body in the following man- 
ner :—We are so constituted that a slight elevation of 
temperature of the body, above the natural standard, 
produces perspiration. This perspiration passes off 
from the skin, in vapor, and in doing so, absorbs t 
heat which caused the perspiration, and thereby pi 
vents an increase of heat of the blood, much abovi 
healthy standard, as the excess is carried off as fast 
it is generated. Thus each pore of the skin, (and 
there are millions), is constituted a safety-valve to 
the body. Should the temperature, by any means, 
be raised above a healthy standard, this very excess 
of heat opens these valves, and the heat is thus let 
off, and the temperature brought back to a healthy 
point. Thus, this excess of heat, proves its own 
remedy. 
Fred.—How numerous and how wonderful are the 
ways and means that God has devised to guard our 
life, and prolong our earthly existence ! CONVEKSATION XIII. 
THE SECRETORY ORGANS OR GLANDS. 
Names of the principal secretory organs—Tiie function they 
perform—Object and use of secretion—Description of the 
perspiratory glands—None of the secretions found in the 
blood—Theory of secretion—Nervous influence upon secre- 
tion—Importance of the function of secretion—Excretory 
ducts—Their use. 
Father.—I have several times spoken of the secre- 
tory organs. I will now give you a brief description 
of them, and the function they perform. 
The most important of these organs or glands, arc 
the liver, the kidneys, the salivary glands, the lach- 
rymal, the pancreatic, the perspiratory, the synovial, 
the glands which secrete the gastric lluid—and several 
others of less importance—in all not less than twenty. 
. Each of these glands secretes, or separates from 
the blood while passing through it, a fluid peculiar to 
the gland which secretes it, and differing greatly in 
quality, and in the office it performs, from that of any 
other. 
The liver secretes a yellow or dark green fluid, 188 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The secretory organs. 
Fig. 34. 
lig. 34.2 2, the small ducts spread through its body, and running together; 
1, the large duct, through which the secreted substance is carried away. 
A GLAND. 
called bile or gall, which is a thick, ropy substance, 
and intensely bitter to the taste. 
The kidneys secrete a clear, watery, amber-colored 
fluid, called urine. 
The salivary glands secrete the saliva—a transpa- 
rent and tasteless fluid. 
The lachrymal secrete the tears. 
The pancreatic secrete the pancreatic juice. 
The perspiratory secrete the perspiration. 
The syriovial secrete the synovia. 
Some of these fluids are designed to fulfil very im- 
portant purposes in the animal economy, while others 
seem to subserve the only purpose of removing acrid 
and irritating substances from the blood, which, if 
allowed to remain, would soon destroy lifeand 
others fulfil both these purposes. * 
Frank.—How can that be, Father? I can under-, 
stand how some of these fluids can be used for a good EEIDEEED ATTRACTIVE. 
189 
Organs that purify the blood. 
urpose, as you told us about the gastric fluid dissolv- 
1 g the food in the stomach in the process of digestion, 
ut how can a fluid be both good and bad—I mean, 
aw can it be used for a beneficial purpose, while it is 
arid, and if allowed to remain in the blood would 
estroy life ? 
Father.—This is one of the many instances in 
•vhicli God accomplishes two or more important ob- 
ects by one means. The liver is one of these organs, 
he secretion of which—the bile, aids in digestion, as 
have previously explained; also, by its acrid quali- 
ics, stimulates the bowels to action, thereby keeping 
hem in a regular and healthy condition—and, at the 
same time, by the secretion of bile, the blood is re- 
lieved of a large amount of impurity, which, if re- 
tained, would be detrimental to health and life. 
Fred.—That is certainly an interesting tact. Will 
you please tell us which of the secretory organs are 
designed simply to carry off the impurities of the 
blood ? 
Father.—I will name two of the most important,— 
the kidneys, and the perspiratory glands. 
The kidneys separate from the blood a large amount 
of acrid material, called urate of soda, urate of potass, 
urate of ammonia, phosphate of soda, phosphate ot 
potass, phosphate of magnesia, phosphate of lime, 
etc., held in solution in the secretion of the kidneys, 
which if retained in the blood, would cause death in a 190 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The perspiratory glands. 
short time. As far as I know, the kidneys were d 
signed solely for the purpose of separating the 
materials from the blood, and upon their constant ai 
faithful action life depends, and one could live but 
few days,—perhaps hours—should their functii 
cease. 
Tha perspiratory glands of the skin are small bodic 
not more than one four-hundredths of an inch ii 
diameter, and are situated in all parts of the surfac 
of the body, varying in number from five hundred t 
twenty-seven hundred to the square inch,—the who 
number in the body being not less than two millio 
three hundred thousand They secrete, or separat 
from the blood, a fluid called perspiration, whicl 
exists in two forms, called sensible and insensible 
perspiration,—the sensible appearing occasionally in 
drops upon the face and other parts of the body, 
while the insensible is going on continually, but in 
quantity so minute as to be imperceptible, and, there- 
fore, is called insensible. 
Connected with each perspiratory gland, is an ex- 
cretory duct or tube, whose office, or function, is, to 
carry off the perspiration secreted by the gland. This 
tube is spiral in form, and about one-fourth of an inch 
in length. 
Fred.—Father, I would like to ask, how it can be 
known that perspiration exists, if it is imperceptible? 
FatherThe existence of insensible perspiration RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
Perspiratory gland. 
.nay be demonstrated in various ways. One is, b}r 
Fig. 35. 
PERSPIRATORY GLAND AND ITS TUBE, GREATLY MAGNIFIED. 
Fig. 35. 1, the gland; 2, 2, the two excretory ducts from the gland, which, 
uniting, form one spiral tu te. which opens at 4; 3, are the fat cells. 192 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Mysteries of secretion. 
placing the hand near a pane of glass, or a mirror, 01 
a polished surface of steel, and the perspiration will 
immediately collect on the glass or polished surface. 
Another very clear proof of the existence of insen- 
sible perspiration is obtained by enclosing the body, 
or a part of it, say an arm or a leg, in a sack or case 
of India rubber, through which perspiration cannot 
pass. In that condition the surface of the limb, and 
the sack which encloses it, will soon be wet with it. 
It is asserted by good authority, that not less than 
from two to three pounds of insensible perspiration 
passes from the body of a healthy man in twenty-four 
hours. In this way, a large amount of impurity is 
separated from the blood. But as I have explained, 
in a previous conversation, (See page 186), one im- 
portant object of perspiration is to regulate the tem- 
perature of the body by carrying off excessive heat. 
Fred.—You say that all these different fluids are 
separated or taken from the blood ? 
Father.—I do. 
Fred.—Then I suppose that these fluids or secre- 
tions, as you call them, exist in the blood, and that 
each secretory gland separates that particular kind of 
fluid that belongs to it,—that is, the liver separates 
the bile from the blood, the kidneys separate their 
peculiar fluid, the salivary glands the sudva, etc. 
Father.—That is a very natural conclusion, my 
son; but it is a very erroneous one. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
193 
The secretions. 
Many experiments have been made upon the blood 
ascertain the facts upon this subject, but it has 
ver been proved, by the most careful scrutiny of the 
emist and physiologist, that the blood contains a 
article of bile, gastric juice, saliva, or any other of 
le secreted fluids. 
Fred.—I cannot see how that can be. I should 
like to know how the liver can secrete, or separate 
bile from the blood, if there is none in it to be sepa- 
rated,—or the kidneys their secretion, or the salivary 
glands saliva, if neither of these fluids exist in the 
blood, from which you say they are taken. Can these 
fluids be taken from the blood in which they never 
existed ? 
Frank.—I see it in the same light that Frederick 
does. I cannot imagine how these fluids can be taken 
from the blood if they never existed in it. But I 
know you have a way of getting over these things 
and clearing them up,—so that I should not dare dis- 
pute or disbelieve any thing you say. 
Mary.—It is true, Father, as Frederick and Frank 
have said, that what you observe about the secretions, 
seems like a contradiction; and so have statements 
you have made on other subjects seemed, but these 
you have finally made all clear to our comprehension ; 
nd I have no doubt you can do so in respect to this. 
»e so good, therefore, as to tell us how the bile and 
ther secretions can be taken from the blood, when 
they never existed in it. 194 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
How the secretions are formed. 
Father.—My dear children, this is truly a wond 
ful fact, and I am not surprised that you are mi 
perplexed with it. 
The only explanation that can be given, and wh 
is doubtless the correct one, is the supposition th 
the blood contains the elements of all these differe 
secretions, and each gland is constructed in such 
manner, and endowed with the power requisite t( 
separate these elementary principles from the blood 
and, by the peculiar action of the glands, to form 
the elements into the various secretions;—the liver 
separating from the blood, the elements of which bile 
is composed,—and so of all the secretions of the body, 
—each gland being adapted to separate from the blood, 
the elements which compose its peculiar secretion, 
and to form them into the fluid secreted. 
But what the peculiar structure of each gland is, 
that causes such extremely different results in their 
action—one secreting a bitter, another a salt, and 
another a tasteless fluid, is one of the secret opera- 
tions of the Creator which is hidden from man. 
We can no more explain this fact, than we can ex- 
plain how sweet apples, can, by ingrafting, be formed 
from the same sap that produces sour apples. 
Fred.—Is the quality of the blood the same from 
which all these different fluids are taken? 
Father.—The quality is the same, and it is all art* 
rial blood, with the exception of the bile, which 
secreted from venous blood. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
195 
Interesting facts about secretion. 
Frank.—This is truly wonderful, but I do not see 
ny particular proof of goodness in it. 
Father.—I am sorry for that, Frank. I think 1 
liscover very marked proof of goodness. I will name 
ne, and by thinking closely, you may discover others. 
The saliva, in the mouth, is a perfectly tasteless 
fluid, which is, perhaps, the only tasteless secretion 
in the body, while some arc extremely acrid, and one 
—the bile, or gall, is a pungent, nauseous bitter. 
Now, suppose the bile, instead of the saliva, had been 
secreted by the salivary glands, so that the mouth 
• would be constantly filled with gall, instead of the 
tasteless saliva. 
Mary.—O, Father! that would be horrid! 
Father.—Well, then, is it not goodness in God, so 
to arrange the secretory organs as to avoid what "would 
be horrid?” The acrid secretions take place in those 
parts of the body where they produce no more unpleas- 
ant sensation than the saliva does in the mouth. Each 
secretion of the body is perfectly adapted and agree- 
able to the part where it takes place ; and so far from 
producing any unpleasant feeling, it is supposed that 
all the pleasurable bodily sensations we enjoy, are 
produced by the healthy and faithful action of all the 
secretory organs. But it is doubtless a truth, that of 
all the functions of the animal economy, none are 
more obscure and mysterious than that of secretion; 
I mean the process by which the fluids or secretions 
arc produced. 196 
ANATOMY AND niYSIOLOGY 
The importance of secretion. 
Whether the function is mechanical or chemical, h 
been a subject of controversy among the learned. 
Mary.—Father, what do you mean by the functh 
being mechanical or chemical ? 
Father.—For the function to be mechanical tl 
secretory organs must act like a strainer, separating, 
or straining out the secretion from the blood as it 
passes through them. 
To be chemical, a change must be produced by the 
secretory organs, in the elements separated from the 
blood while passing through these organs. 
But experiments have been made, which prove that 
the function of secretion depends on nervous influ- 
ence. 
Mary.—What is the proof, Father? 
Father.—The proof is this :—If the nerves which 
go to the secretory organs be tied with a ligature, so 
as to cut off the nervous connection with the brain, 
the function of the organ is at once suspended, and no 
fluid is secreted. 
These secretions are going on during every period 
of life, and perform the all important office, as I have 
before said, of removing the various impurities of the 
blood. 
So important is the function of the secretory organs, 
that when suspended, for even a short time, disease 
is the sure result. For example :—If from the effect 
«»■' a chill, the perspiratory glands cease to secrete the RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
197 
Excretory ducts. 
sensible perspiration, fever, or inflammation of some 
the internal organs, will follow. If the liver be- 
>mes diseased, so as to derange the secretion of bile, 
ther in quantity or quality, digestion is soon impaired, 
suppression of any other secretion, deranges the 
rious internal organs, and if long continued, causes 
death. 
The free use of ardent spirits deranges the secre- 
tions, and thereby shortens life. 
Connected with the secretory glands, are what are 
called the excretory ducts, which are small tubes, the 
use of which is to carry off the fluid secreted by the 
gland,—which act is called excretion. 
When conversing upon the subject of digestion, I 
said so much about the secretion and excretion of the 
digestive fluids—the saliva, gastric juice, bile, etc., 
that I think I need say no more in regard to them 
now. 
There are other extremely interesting facts in regard 
to secretion and excretion, about which I should like 
to speak. But as they would be more appropriate for 
lectures to medical students, than for social converse, 
I shall defer the consideration of them for the present. 
I would remark, however, that the facts to which I 
refer, evince more clearly and forcibly, the kind care 
and benevolent design of the Creator, than any which 
we have considered upon the subject. And at some 
uture time, I may think proper to speak freely in 
reference to them. 198 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Effects should secretion cease. 
Before we close our present social interview, I w. 
to ask you, my children, to reflect, for a mome 
upon what would be our condition should all the 
secretory organs cease their action, for a single d[ 
and thus allow all these various secretions to rem: 
in the blood. 
Mary.—What would be the effect? 
Father.—The blood would become a mass of im- 
purity, causing death in a few hours. 
Thus I have given you a very brief description of 
the process of secretion and excretion, by which you 
see that the action of the secretory organs, like that 
of the heart, and many other upon whose action life 
depends, is going on during every moment of life, 
without our care;—and, I may add, with no small 
portion of the community, without even the knowl- 
edge that a secretory organ exists in the body, or that 
such a function as secretion is ever performed. 
We must now close this conversation. 
Children.—Before we close, Father, we wish to 
express to you our sincere thanks for the interesting 
information you have given us. CONVERSATION XIV. 
ABSORPTION. 
Changes taking place in our bodies during evert moment op 
life—The lymphatics, or absorbents—Description of the 
LYMPHATICS—ABSORPTION COUNTERBALANCES DEPOSIT, OR NUTRI- 
TION—The growth of the body, how produced—The lym- 
phatics numerous in the skin, and mucous membrane of the 
lungs—Thirst allayed by absorption—Nutriment absorbed 
THROUGH THE SKIN. 
Father.—My dear children, I have spoken in pre- 
vious conversations of the bones, muscles, nerves, 
the process of digestion, the formation of the blood, 
its circulation, the manner in which our bodies are 
formed, and the process of secretion, by which the 
blood is kept pure. I now wish to propose a question 
which either of you are at liberty to answer. It is 
this :—After the bones, muscles, nerves, brain, and 
all parts of the body are fully formed, and have arrived 
at maturity, why do our bodies need nourishment,— 
or, in other words, why do we need to eat food? 
Fred.—That seems a very strange question! I 
should think any one could answer that. You must 
kink us very ignorant. 200 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Why we need food. 
Father.—I have not accused you of ignoranc 
And as you say that any one can answer the questio 
I hope your reply will prove that the term " ignoran 
does not belong to you. So let us have your answe 
if you please. 
Fred.—We need to eat food because we cannoi 
live without it. 
Father.—My son! If you consider that an answer 
to the question, I do not wonder you thought strange 
I should ask it. Everybody knows, of course, that 
we cannot live without eating. But the question is, 
why do we need to cat food, or why can we not live 
without it? 
Fred.—Well, Father, if what I have said is not 
correct, or is not a proper answer, I will confess at 
once, that I cannot tell, and will leave it to Frank or 
Mary to answer. 
Father.—Well, Frank, can you tell me why wo 
need to eat food after the bones, muscles, and all parts 
of the body are fully matured, and in full health and 
strength ? 
Frank.—We should lose flesh, and become weak 
and sick, if we left off eating. 
Father.—That is true, my son, but the question is, 
why should we lose flesh, and become weak; and in 
what way, or by what process, can the flesh go off? 
Mary.—I think I can answer the question. 
Father.—Well, my daughter, I am ready to hear. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
201 
Use of nutriment. 
Mary.—I recollect once, when we were talking 
>ut the body’s being nourished by food, yon said 
t all the different parts absorbed, or attracted the 
riment from the blood. Now, if we eat no food 
-Xiire will be no nutriment to absorb. Is not that the 
’eason why we cannot live without eating? 
Father.—But, my child, why do the various organs 
and tissues of our bodies need to take up nutriment 
Tom the blood, when every part is in a perfect and 
sound state ? Is there need of adding any thing to the 
bones, when they are already perfect? Or, do we 
need any addition to the muscles and nerves, or any 
other parts of the body, when all are perfectly matured, 
and in full vigor? To add to them in this condition, 
would be to cause a constant growth of the whole 
body. 
Mary.—I must acknowledge that I do not know, 
and must ask your explanation. 
Father.—I did not propose this question, my chil- 
dren, because I expected you to answer or explain 
correctly, but rather to impress upon your minds the 
fact, that there are numerous operations going on in 
our bodies, upon which life depends, of which a vast 
majority of the community know and think as little, 
as they do of what is going on in the moon. It may 
appear strange to you, that I should require you to 
speak on a subject of which I know you have not suf- 
ficient knowledge to give a correct and inteliigble 202 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Should learn to think. 
answer. And my only reason for doing so is, tha 
wish you to learn to think,—that is, to take a sub, 
and study it, reflect, reason upon it, and not dismis 
until you are sure that you have arrived at the tri 
in regard to it. 
Fred.—I wish, Father, you would give us an ex- 
ample of how we can reason upon a subject of whicl 
we have little or no knowledge. 
Father.—As you ask for an example I will give it 
—and will take the subject under consideration, and 
show you how, by close and consecutive reasoning, 
you could have spoken more intelligibly, and not 
have been obliged to say, as you have somptimes 
done,—" I do not know, I never thought on the subject 
before.” 
This never thinking upon a subject, is a very mor- 
tifying and criminal admission. Thought and intelli- 
gence are what distinguish man from the brute. And 
do you suppose that God has bestowed upon man the 
powers of intellect, to lie dormant? Do you recollect 
that God, by the Prophet, said to his chosen people 
Israel, when complaining of their ingratitude,— 
''Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider.” 
The want of consideration, and the consequent want 
of knowledge, are assigned, by God himself, as the 
cause of the ingratitude and wicked conduct of the 
Israelites. Had they been thoughtful and considerate, 
they would not have been guilty of such wickedness. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
203 
How food nourishes the body. 
But we will attend to the example you ask. You 
know this fact,—for I have explained it,—that the 
of the body, is the result of the deposit of 
mtriment taken from food and air,—that the body 
ncreases in size, by an accumulation of particles, until 
t obtains maturity, when it ceases to grow. Having 
learned this fact, your next inquiry should have been, 
what becomes of the nutriment of food and air (for 
we still eat and breathe), as it is no longer employed 
in the growth of the body. This would have led you 
to the correct conclusion, that, either no particles of 
nutriment are now deposited in any part of the body, 
or, if deposited, other particles must be displaced to 
make room for them ; and thus you would have got 
upon the track of a correct solution of the problem. 
Fred.—I feel the truth of what you say, and I will 
try to make good use of it. But, Father, I wish you 
would explain this subject to us, for I see, by what 
you said in trying to teach me to think, that it is 
one of great interest. 
Father.—I will now proceed to explain the subject 
of our present conversation, which is 
ABSOKPTIOXT. 
Frank.—And what do you mean by absorption! 
Father.—I will tell you, after stating an important 
fact, which is this :— 
During every moment of life, there is a chango 204 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Lymphatics and their function. 
going on in the particles of which our bodies art 
composed. Every particle, whether of bone, muscle 
nerve or membrane, is a living, vital particle whei 
deposited, and remains so for an indefinite period 
and until it subserves a definite purpose, when it lose 
its vitality, and becomes dead, worn out matter; ant 
if allowed to remain in the body, would prove a source 
of irritation, and cause disease and death. Now, 
these lifeless particles, which are in every part and 
fibre of our bodies,—in the bones as well as in the 
flesh, must, in some way, be removed, or we could 
live but a short time. Now, how do you think this 
can be done ? 
Frank.—I do not know, Father. Do tell us. 
Father.—God has made, in our bodies, a vast 
number of minute tubes, called Lym-jphat'-ics, whoso 
function is to absorb or take up this dead, useless 
matter, and convey it out of the body. 
The lymphatic vessels originate in every part of the 
body, but are most numerous in the skin and mucous 
membranes, especially the mucous membrane of the 
lungs. They are so extremely minute, at their origin, 
as to be invisible, without the aid of the microscope. 
Like the veins, and for the same reason, the lym- 
phatics are supplied with valves, and, running togeth- 
er, form tubes larger and larger, as they advance 
towards the heart. 
Frank.—That is wonderful! But what do the RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
205 
Lymphatic vessels. 
Fig. 36 
LYMPHATIC VESSELS. 
Fig. 36. 1, 2, 3,4, 5, 6, show these vessels of the lower limbs; 7, the inquinal glands; 8, the commencement of the 
thoracic duct, into which the contents of the lymphatics are poured; 9, the lymphatics of the kidneys: 10, those of 
the stomach: 11, those of the liver: 12,12, those of the lungs: 13,14.15, those of the arm: 16,17,18, those of the face 
and neck: 19,20, the large veins: 21, the thoracic duct: 26, the lymphatics of the heart. 206 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Dead matter taken up by the absorbents. 
lymphatics do with this worn out, lifeless matter ? 
hope they do not carry it into the blood. 
Father.—They do carry it into the blood. It) 
poured into the large veins near the heart. 
Frank.—Well, really, Father, I do not know w 
to think of that I In our last conversation, you to 
us about vessels, or organs, made for the very purpo 
of cleansing the blood, by drawing off the impuritie 
and I thought it was very fine, and felt very happy 
learn that God had provided such wonderful means t 
purify the blood, as I have heard it said that man1 
diseases are caused by impurities of the blood. Ant 
now you tell us, that there are a very great number o 
vessels in every part of our bodies, taking up dead, 
worn out matter, and pouring it into the blood. I 
would like to know what use there is in having one 
set of vessels at work all the time to cleanse out the 
impurities of the blood, and another set at work 
pouring impurities into it. This is very strange ! 
Father.—Do not be alarmed, my son; remember 
that God’s works and ways are perfect, however 
" strange ” they may appear to us ; and we have only 
to study them, and find the truth, to make all plain. 
You will, I doubt not, be ready to admit, that you 
have been rather hasty in allowing your equanimity to 
be disturbed, when I inform you that this worn out 
matter, poured into the veins by the lymphatics, forms 
no small part of the impurities taken from the blood 
by the secretory organs. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
207 
Absorption equals nutrition. 
Frank.—Is that the fact ? 
Father.—It is. 
Frank.—I do wish I could learn not to be so hasty 
i condemning what I connot understand. 
Father.—That is an important lesson for all to learn, 
specially when investigating or studying the works 
f God. 
An interesting fact in regard to the lymphatic ves- 
sels is, that their action of absorption, counterbalances 
the action of the nutritive vessels; that is, the lym- 
phatics absorb and remove the dead matter, as fast as 
the nutritive vessels deposit the living matter, and 
thus a balance is kept up between the amount depos- 
ited and the quantity absorbed—I mean in a state of 
health. And to this we are indebted for the uniform- 
ity in the amount of flesh a healthy person possesses, 
month after month, and year after year. Should the 
nutritive vessels, as is sometimes the case, (for there 
are exceptions to this rule), deposit more than the 
absorbents remove, a person would become plethoric, 
that is, would become large, by a deposit of fatty 
matter. If, on the contrary, the lymphatics should 
be more active than the nutritive vessels, a person 
would become emaciated. 
Mary.—How is that? Do the lymphatics absorb, 
or take up any thing but worn out matter ? 
Father.—To absorb the worn out matter, seems to 
be the primary object of the lymphatics, but they 208 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
Nutrition greater than absorption—the cause of growth. 
have other, and important functions to perform, as 
shall show you before we close our present interview 
Fred.—Father, you say, that in a healthy state, th 
absorption equals the deposit, and in this way there 
a balance kept up between the amount of matter d 
posited, and the quantity absorbed. Is this the ca: 
all through life ? 
Father.—No, my son, it is so only after a persoi 
arrives at maturity—that is, after the body is fully 
grown; and after that, it is so only while the individ- 
ual is in a state of health. 
During the periods of infancy, childhood, and youth, 
the nutritive vessels are more active than the absorb- 
ents ; consequently the deposit of matter in every 
part of the body, is greater than the absorption, 
which causes a gradual increase, or growth of the body. 
But after a certain number of years,—varying in dif- 
ferent persons,—the nutritive vessels become less and 
less active, until the deposit and absorption become 
equal, when the growth of the body ceases;—after 
which, if the person is healthy, and temperate in 
eating and drinking, the bulk and weight of the body 
remain about the same till advanced life, when the 
balance between the two being lost, and nutrition 
becoming less than absorption, the body gradually 
diminishes in size and weight, and finally presents the 
shrivelled appearance peculiar to the aged. 
Fred.—I never knew before in what way our bodies 
grow ; nor why old people are so thin and poor. GENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
209 
Matter composing the body changed every seven years. 
Father.—I would here remark, that the absorption 
hicli is going on every moment of life, produces an 
itire change in the particles of which our bodies are 
imposed, every seven years; that is, every atom 
if matter constituting the body seven years ago, has 
jeen removed by absorption, and their place supplied 
>y a new deposit, so that our bodies do not now con- 
tain a particle of the matter, either of bone, muscle, 
nerve, or membrane, of which they were composed 
seven years since ; and some physiologists believe the 
change takes place in a much shorter period. 
Fred.—Do we then have new bodies every seven 
years ? 
Father.—We do, so far as the matter is concerned, 
of which they are composed. And yet, we have the 
same identical body all through life; our friends 
never mistake us for another person. Nor was the 
son of the Emerald Isle correct, who claimed that 
he was a native American citizen, because he had 
lost the old body which he brought from Ireland, 
seven years ago, and had obtained a new one in 
America. 
You know, my children, that persons often become 
greatly emaciated, that is, lose their flesh, during 
sickness. Did you ever think how it is possible for 
this to take place ? 
Mary.—I only thought it was because they were 
sick. I can give no other reason. I cannot tell how 
it is done. 210 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Action and value of the lymphatics. 
Father.—When persons are so sick as to lose Acs 
as it is called, the digestive organs are not in a cc 
dition to digest food. But a person cannot live lo 
without nutriment, sick or well. What then is to 
done, when the digestive organs refuse their servic 
in preparing nutriment? I will tell you what is done 
The lymphatics absorb the fatty and other matte 
which has been deposited in various parts of the 
body, and carry it to the blood, for food or nourish- 
ment to the system. Thus persons, in such case, live 
upon their own flesh. 
Mary.—Do you mean, Father, that healthy por- 
tions of the body are taken up by the lymphatics 
and conveyed into the blood, for the purpose of nour- 
ishing the system ? 
Father.—Yes, my child, that is the fact. There 
are deposits, in various parts of the body, of adipose 
matter, which are not needed to sustain life or health, 
and which seem to be stored away, to be used in case 
of emergency. In "fleshy” persons, this deposit is 
great, and in some cases very burdensome. Now, 
this matter, which often lies stored away for years, 
can all be taken up by the absorbents, conveyed to 
the blood as fast as needed, and used by the system 
as nutriment. 
In case of shipwrecks-upon the ocean, the life of 
mariners is sometimes sustained by this means, for 
weeks. Is not this a wonderful provision of our kind 
heavenly Father ? RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
211 
Thirst allayed by the absorbents. 
Mary.—It certainly is, but how ignorant I have 
vvays been about these things. I feel grateful to 
>u, Father, for consenting to give us these instructive 
ssons. 
Father.—There are, also, secretions and deposits 
1 the body which have no external outlet. These 
re the deposits of marrow in the bones, the secretion 
of the synovia, or joint-water, and several others. 
Were it not for the absorption of the lymphatics, 
these deposits and secretions, would soon be in excess, 
and dropsy of the parts would be the result. But 
now, in a healthy state, the absorption equals the 
secretion and deposit, therefore these fluids are neither 
in excess nor deficient,—neither too much nor too 
little. 
I have told you that the lymphatics are very nume- 
rous in the skin. So numerous and active are these 
absorbents that thirst may be allayed by going into a 
water-bath. And sick persons, unable to take food, 
by bei lg immersed in a bath of broth, may absorb, 
through the skin, a sufficient amount of nutriment to 
sustain life for some time. 
Substances applied to the surface, such as Spanish 
flies, mercury, morphine, etc., are often taken into 
the system, through the skin by the action of the 
lymphatics, and produce the same effects as if taken 
by the mouth. 
In case of a bruise upon the surface of the body, by 212 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Action of the lymphatics. 
which the minute blood-vessels are injured, the bio 
coagulates and causes the part to present a dark col 
—sometimes quite black—especially is this the case 
the injury be on the face near the eyes. 
Now, if this coagulated blood were allowed to re 
main, it would become putrid and cause ulcers. Bu 
the lymphatics, faithful to the discharge of their duty 
absorb it, and the parts gradually assume their natural 
color. 
I have stated that the mucous membrane of the 
lungs is abundantly supplied with lymphatics. The 
consequence is, that substances inhaled are quickly 
taken up and conveyed into the circulation. It is in 
this way that sulphuric ether, taken into the lungs by 
inhalation, is rapidly conveyed to the brain, and thus 
produces its effect upon the nervous system. Sub- 
stances that are injurious, as well as beneficial, may 
be absorbed by the lymphatics. 
Thus, contagious diseases may be contracted, by 
inhaling into the lungs, and absorbing through the 
skin, the effluvia containing the contagion. 
A knowledge of this fact may enable us to avoid 
contagious diseases, by avoiding the impure air con- 
taining the contagion, and by general cleanliness of 
person and clothing. 
In case of disease of the lungs, great benefit may 
be derived,—and it is affirmed by some, that cures 
have been effected, by inhaling medicated vapor.. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
213 
Reflections. 
There are other interesting facts in regard to the 
jsorbent vessels, but we have not time to pursue 
is subject further. 
From the facts stated we see, that in a physical, as 
ell as moral sense, " God carethfor us.” 
What wisdom in design,—what perfection in struc- 
ture, do our bodies present! How numerous the 
proofs, that God intended to mingle pleasure with 
physical existence ! 
The evidence of benevolent design that meets us on 
every side, as we pursue our investigations, is but an 
echo of the inspired declaration,—■" God is love.” CONVERSATION XV. 
THE SKIN. 
Thr great number and variety of the vessels of the skin—- 
Description of the skin—The cuticle—The derma—The col- 
oring matter—The nerves and blood-vessels of the skin— 
Interesting facts in regard to the cuticle and derma—The 
oil glands, their function—The skin a breathing appara- 
tus—The pores of the skin, their function—The number of 
pores—Their aggregate length—Reflections. 
Father.—My children, I wish to converse with you, 
at the present time, in regard to a part of our bodies 
which contains a greater number and variety of ves- 
sels, and fulfils a greater number of important pur- 
poses in the animal economy, than any other on which 
we have yet conversed;—I refer to the external cov- 
ering of the body—the Skin. 
Fred.—Are the vessels of the skin more numerous 
than the blood-vessels, which, I recollect you said 
were millions ? 
Father.—I shall show you, before we clobv, mm 
present interview, that no organ, or membrane of the 
body, is composed of so many vessels, as the mem- 
brane that envelops the body. Could you view one ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
215 
Vessels of the skin. 
quare inch of the human skin, while in a state of 
ealth and activity, with a powerful microscope like 
he philosopher Humboldt’s, which, it is said, magni- 
ed objects three hundred thousand times, you would 
3 frightened at the sight, and would start back with 
istinctive horror. 
Frank.—What should we see, Father? 
• Father.—The first that would meet your view, 
would be great numbers of vast rivers of 
blood, lying close together, yet never mingling, 
because enclosed in tubes. These tubes are the arte- 
ries, veins, and capillaries. You would also sec a 
great number of canals, of great magnitude, whose 
mouths open upon the. surface, and pour out rivers of 
fluids. These canals are the pores of the skin. You 
might next observe a dense fog, rising like steam from 
the boiler of a steam-engine. This fog is the insen- 
sible perspiration, which rises from, and envelops 
the whole body. You would also see a perfect net- 
work of nerves, too minute to be seen with the naked 
eye, but now appearing like branches of large trees. 
Mary.—O, Father! that would be a frightful 
sight. But I like to hear you talk about them. 
Father.—There are many interesting facts in regard 
to the skin, with which I wish to make you acquainted ; 
but that you may the better understand, I must be a 
little systematic. The skin is a smooth, delicate 
membrane, forming a most beautiful covering for the 216 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Layers of the skin. 
whole body, and, as one justly remarks, "is the la; 
stroke of the great Artist, which gives the finishin 
touch, and makes the form divine.” 
To the naked eye, the skin appears to be but or 
membrane, but a careful examination will show th 
it is composed of two layers of membrane, the Cu 
ti-de, (scarf skin), and the Cu'-tis Ve'-ra, or Der'-ma 
(true skin). 
Fig. 37—THE SKIN, MAGNIFIED. 
Fig. 37. a, a, the cuticle; b, b, the colored layer: c, c, d, d, the true skin; 
e, e, e, fat cells; f, f, f, sweat tubes. 
Between these two layers of membrane, is a thin 
layer of paste, called Re'-te Mu-co'-sum, (mucous 
coat of skin), which gives color to the skin. In our 
race, this layer of paste is white, in the Spanish, it is 
yellow, in the Indian, it is copper colored, and in the 
African it is a jet black.' RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
217 
Of what the skin is composed. 
The Derma, or true skin, is composed of Arteries, 
eins, Capillaries, Nerves, Lymphatics, Oil-Glands 
d their Tubes, and Perspiratory Glands and their 
bes. 
The arteries, which are very numerous, divide and 
jdivide into myriads of minute capillaries, which 
m a beautiful and perfect net-work on the surface 
* the true skin, and terminate in minute veins, which 
e as numerous as the arteries, as I have previously 
:plained. So perfect is this net-work of blood- 
sssels, that the point of the finest needle, introduced 
ito the skin, is sure to wTound one or more of them. 
In regard to the nerves of the skin, I can only 
3peat what I have previously stated,—that they cover 
le entire body, and are extremely sensitive to the 
>uch. 
Fred.—Why are the nerves in the skin more sen- 
;ive than in other parts of the body ? 
Father.—For the reason, as I told you in a previous 
nversation, that the surface of the body is more 
ble to injury than the internal parts, and, therefore, 
'eds to be more carefully guarded. Had there been 
t upon the body, an extent of surface without 
eves, equal in size to a dime, a sharp pointed instrli- 
nt might pierce that spot, so as to endanger life, 
V yet cause no sensation, and therefore give no 
ling of danger. But there is no such imperfection 
le works of God. lie saw that every particle of 218 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Why the skin needs to be sensitive. 
the surface of our bodies requires to be guarded fro. 
danger, and therefore he has placed a sentinel, (nerve 
at every point to give instant warning of an approac 
ing foe, as I have already told you. But in the desi 
and formation of the human body, there was a m» 
important matter to be arranged, in regard to the 
sensitive nerves of the skin. It was necessary tl 
the skin should be sensitive, in order to give warnin 
of danger, but as the surface of the body, in tl 
common duties of life, comes in contact with surroum 
ing objects, it was necessary also, that this nervoi 
sensibility should, in some way, and to some extent 
be modified, or rendered moderately acute,—other 
wise, every thing that touched the body would caus 
pain, and thus we should be kept in a state of constan 
suffering. 
In addition to our safety, which was to be provide 
for, was another consideration of, perhaps, no le 
importance. I refer to the fact, that all the knowlcd 
of external nature, obtained by the sense of feelin 
is conveyed to the mind through the medium of t7 
sensitive nerves of the skin. Had these been t' 
sensitive, every thing we touch would cause pa' 
instead of conveying intelligence to the mind. II 
the sensation of touch been too little, the nei-A 
would fail to be a medium of intelligence between 
mind and external nature, and consequently the be 
to be derived from the sense of feeling would be RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
219 
Great value of the cuticle. 
Now liow can both these objects be attained? That 
how can the nerves be rendered sufficiently sensi- 
e to convey correct information to the mind, relative 
whatever we touch, and at the same time, not be 
y sensitive as to cause pain. 
Fred.—I cannot tell, Father. Do please explain it 
) us. 
Father.—The course adopted by the Creator, to 
revent a too great sensitiveness on the one hand, and 
>o little on the other, is to cover the derma, or true 
«dn, with a thin, soft membrane, destitute of nerves, 
and consequently without sensation. 
This important membrane is what is called the cuti- 
cle, or scarf-skin. It seems perfectly adapted to the 
function it performs; for, while it moderates the sen- 
sibility of the nerves, so that contact with external 
objects causes no pain, it, at the same time, allows 
the degree of sensation requisite to enable the nerves 
to take cognizance of whatever comes in contact with 
the surface of the body. 
Mary.—How wonderful! 
Father.—There is one very interesting fact in regard 
to the cuticle, which seems to me to be a speciaJ 
design of the Creator, for our comfort and safety. 
You know that the more cloth, or leather, is worn, 
the thinner it becomes, until it is worn out. But the 
reverse is true of the cuticle. The harder the use, 
and the greater the wear of the cuticle, the thicher it 220 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Wonderful endowment of the skin. 
becomes, which is proved by the hard and calk 
appearance of the hands of farmers, black-smif 
masons, and mechanics. 
Fred.—That seems very strange! How do y 
explain it ? 
Father.—This thickening of the cuticle of the hand 
which enables workmen to handle their tools ai 
materials without pain or inconvenience, was a matt 
of necessity; for if the wear of the cuticle caused 
to become thin, as it does every thing else, it Vvou 
soon wear out, on the hands of the laboring maj 
leaving the nerves bare, which, of course, woulu 
utterly disqualify him for labor. God saw that this 
condition of the cuticle was necessary, and therefore 
endowed the skin with the requisite power to produce 
it, and that is all the explanation I can give of this 
wonderful phenomenon. In other words, it is so 
because God “ careth for us.” 
In a previous conversation, I have spoken of the 
lymphatics of the skin, also, of the perspiratory 
glands, and their excretory tubes, and I need not 
repeat what I then said. There remains one other 
set of vessels of the skin to be described, which are 
called the Se-ba'-ceous Fol'-li-cles, or oil-glands, which 
are small bodies in the true skin, and are connected 
with small tubes which pass out through the cuticle. 
The oil-glands are not spread equally over the whole 
surface, indeed, they arc entirely wanting, in some RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
221 
Oil-glands and their secretions. 
Fig. 38. 
mg. 38. a, the gland; b, the tube; c, its mouth. 
OIL-GLANDS AND TUBES, MAGNIFIED. 
parts of the body, while they are very abundant in 
others, where their office is most needed, as on the 
face, the head, the nose, the ears, etc. 
Fred.—I wish to know what is meant by oil-glands ! 
Father.—These are glands which secrete an oily 
4 
fluid, which is a compound of oil and albumen, as it 
is called. 
Fred.—But what is the object of such a secretion? 
Father.—The object seems to be two-fold.—1st. 
This oily fluid serves the purpose of keeping the 
cuticle soft and smooth, and thus prevent its becoming 
parched, and causing chaps and sores. 2d. To re- 
move waste matter from the system. And it is worthy 
of remark, that the oil-glands are placed in those 
parts of the skin which are most exposed to changes 222 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The skin an organ of respiration. 
of temperature and moisture of the air, as the fa 
and head; while in those parts protected from the 
by clothing, and in which, of course, the cuticle 
kept moist and supple by insensible perspiration, 
or none of the oil-glands exist. They are also fo 
in the parts liable to chafing, where they pour the 
oily secretions upon the surface, and thus preve 
friction and irritation. 
Frank.—I did not think the skin had so many, ai 
such important functions to perform. 
Father.—I have not named them all. Added 
the others, the skin is an organ of respiration- -or a 
breathing apparatus. 
Frank.—What is that? I thought we breathed 
with the lungs. 
Father.—So we do,—and we breathe with the skin 
also, as breathing consists in absorbing oxygen fror 
the air, and throwing off carbonic acid by the lungs ; 
the same thing is done by the skin; the absorbents of 
the skin of which I have previously spoken, taking 
up oxygen from the surrounding air, while the carbonic 
acid is exhaled, or thrown off through the pores of the 
skin. 
Fred.—I should like to know how that is proved. 
Father.—It is a very easy matter to demonstrate 
this position, and it has been done repeatedly. Inclose 
the body, or a part of it, with a quantity of air, in an 
India rubber, air-tight case, and, in a few hours, it RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
Proofs that we breathe through the skin. 
ill be found, that the air in the case has lost its 
ygen, and is filled with carbonic acid,—the oxygen, 
course, having been absorbed by the body, while at 
e same time it had thrown off the carbon. 
Mary.—How can it be known, Father, that the air 
i the case has lost its oxygen ? 
Father.—It can be ascertained in various ways, but 
lC following is, perhaps, the most ready and satis- 
ctory.—Place a burning lamp in the case containing 
ie air, and it will go out instantly. 
Mary.—How does that prove it? 
Father.—Do you not recollect I have already told 
ou, that combustion, or the burning of any thing is 
roduced by the chemical union of oxygen with car- 
on ; that the burning of coal or wood is tlje result 
f a union of oxygen with the carbon contained in the 
el? 
Mary.—I recollect that, but I do not understand 
>w it proves anything in this case. 
Fred.—I see how it is,—please let mo explain. 
Father.—Certainly, my son, if Mary cannot. 
Fred.—If the oxygen had been absorbed from the 
r which surrounded the body in the rubber case, 
ere was none to unite with the carbon of the oil, 
d of course, a burning lamp, placed where there 
is no oxygen, would go out. Is that right, Father? 
Father.—That is correct, my son, and is very well 
plained. I trust now you are all satisfied that the 224 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Glands and their tubes. 
skin actually breathes, as well as the lungs, though 
a different way. And what a thought, that our bod’ 
are every moment absorbing life from the air arou 
us and within us ! 
Frank.—I think we understand it, Father, and 
is wonderful! 
Fred.—You have spoken several times, about tl 
pores of the skin, but you have not told us what tin 
are. 
Father.—The pores are the outlets or mouths < 
the tubes connected with the perspiratory glands an 
the oil-glands. These tubes, which are spiral in form 
are about one-fourth of an inch in length, and act a 
drains to carry off the perspiration as fast as secreted 
as I hqye before stated. (See Fig. 35, page 191) 
From what I have said in regard to the number o 
perspiratory and oil-glands, and their tubes,—tl 
mouths of which, as before stated, are the pores,- 
you will see that the number of pores must be vei 
great. 
Fred.—Can you tell us how many pores there are 
Father.—Dr. Wilson, the author of a work on ana 
omy says, that, with a view to ascertain the numb< 
of pores, he counted, (with the aid of the microscop 
of course,) the pores on the palm of the hand, ai 
found three thousand five hundred and twenty-eig 
to the square inch. But this, he thinks, is above tl 
average number of the body, which he estimates RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
225 
Number of pores. 
o thousand eight hundred to the square inch. Now 
i man of ordinary height and bulk, the number of 
are inches of surface is about two thousand five 
idred—the number of pores, therefore, is seven 
lions,—and the number of inches in length, of the 
rspiratory tubes, is one-fourth of that number—one 
illion seven hundred and fifty thousand, which is one 
undred and forty-five thousand, eight hundred and 
urty-three feet, or forty-eight thousand six hundred 
id eleven yards, or nearly twenty-eight miles. 
What a thought! seven millions of tubes for drain- 
76, on the surface of the body ! Now, as God makes 
thing in vain, these seven millions of pores must 
necessary for the enjoyment of health and the con- 
inuance of life. What then would be the effect 
should this drainage be obstructed ? 
Mary.—What would be the effect, Father? 
Father.—Disease and death would be the sure and 
speedy result. 
Mary.—I do not wonder that the Psalmist says,— 
"I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” I almost 
"ear to move, lest in some way, I should interrupt the 
operations of the millions of vessels on which life 
depends. ' 
Father.—Then, my child, you can appreciate the 
feelings of the immortal Watts, when he exclaims,— 
* Our life contains a thousand springs, 
And dies if one be gone, 
Strange that a harp of thousand strings, 
Should keep in tune so long ! ” 226 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Wlmt the skin hides from view. 
The skin fulfils the important purpose of cover 
up, or concealing from view, the operations that 
constantly going on within the body. Could we 
through the skin, and the integuments under it, 
complicated meehanism of our bodies in full op< 
tion,—could we see the heart in constant motic 
pulsating eighty times a minute, and at each pulsati 
throwing a jet of two ounces of blood from eai 
ventricle, into the arteries,—the blood rushing throiu 
the arteries at the rate of sixty feet per minute,—tl 
secretory glands drawing olf their various secretioi 
from the blood,—the muscles and tendons pulling tl 
limbs in every direction,—the lungs inhaling a 
blowing out air;—and the numerous minor, but 1 
less important operations that are going on in al 
parts of the system, we should be paralyzed with 
terror, and should stand in awe of ourselves! 
But all these are kindly hidden from our sight, and 
to most persons, are no more subjects of observation, 
or even of thought, than the operations that are going 
on within the volcanoes of the moon. 
We must now close this pleasant interview, with 
one reflection, from which we shall learn a moral 
lesson. From what has been said we see that the 
millions of minute vessels in our bodies, are forme' 
with as much skill, and preserved with as much faith- 
fulness, as the larger—and what may appear to us, 
the more important organs. Perfection, faithfulness, RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
227 
Reflections. 
id goodness, mark the most minute, as well as the 
ost magnificent, of God’s works;—by which we 
louid learn, that to be like him, we also must be 
aithfui m that which is least, as well as in the more 
mponant actions of our lives. CONVERSATION XVI. 
TILE TEETII. 
The infant born without teeth—Two sets of teeth provided 
in the jaw bones before birth—First set temporary, second 
SET PERMANENT—God’s GOODNESS IN PROVIDING FOR A FUTURE 
WANT—The number and names of the different divisions or 
KINDS OF TEETH—FORM AND USE OF THE DIFFERENT KINDS— 
Composition of the teetii—The enamel of the teeth—The 
ROOTS OF THE FIRST SET ABSORBED—MOVEMENTS OF THE JAW IN 
MASTICATING OR CHEWING FOOD—CAUSE OF TOOTHACHE—NERVE 
AND BLOOD-VESSELS OF THE TEETH—The TEETH AN ORNAMENT. 
Father.—Did it ever occur to you, my children, 
that there was any thing relating to the teeth, that 
afforded striking proof of the wise design and good- 
ness of our Creator? 
Fred.—I never thought of any thing of special 
interest about the teeth, Father, but judging from 
the past conversations, I doubt not, if you undertake 
it, you will tell much, both to amuse and instruct us, 
which we are quite ready to hear. I do not know how 
it is with Frank and Mary, but as for myself, I have 
come to the conclusion, that every part of our bodies, 
however minute, affords the clearest evidence of the 
goodness and benevolent design of God, if we can ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
229 
Interesting facts about the teeth. 
illy take the right view of it. Before we commenced 
onvcrsing upon this subject, I could not have believed 
possible, that so many, and such varied proofs of 
rod’s goodness could be produced by an examination 
f the structure of the human body. 
Father.—You are certainly right, my son, in your 
conclusion that every portion of our physical structure 
bears unequivocal proof of God’s goodness in its 
formation, if, as you say, we only take a right view 
of it. 
I wish to make you acquainted, at the present time, 
with what to me appears very interesting, with regard 
to the teeth. 
The first to which I wish to call your attention, is, 
that we are born without teeth. 
Frank.—I know we are, but is there any particular 
and wise design in that? 
Father.—I think so, Frank. 
Frank.—It seems to me, Father, that you can dis- 
cover design and goodness where no one else would 
think of it. I wish I had the same faculty. 
Father.—The infant has no teeth, for the reason 
that it needs none. It is destined to obtain its food 
from its mother’s breast, and so far from teeth being 
a benefit, they would be a great inconvenience, for 
how could an infant nurse with a mouth full of teeth ? 
But the time will come when it will need more solid 
food, and such as will require the aid of teeth to mas- 230 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Teeth provided against time of need. 
ticate. The Creator knew this, and therefore pre 
vided teeth in the bones of the jaw, which, about th 
sixth or eighth month—just the time when ncedcc 
make their appearance, by coming through the guim 
as white as ivory, and as sharp as a knife—and u 
their appearance seem to say,—" Here we are, for by 
this time you need us.” 
Now, just think of this, my children. Here is an 
instance in which God provides for a future want. 
The infant, at birth, as I have said, needs no teeth, 
but will need them at a future time. The Creator, 
therefore, places the germs of teeth, if I may so speak, 
in the bones of the jaw, which, by growth, make their 
appearance at the precise time they are needed—first, 
the sharp, cutting, then, as they are required, the large 
teeth, for chewing or grinding the food. Now, was 
there any good and wise design in this ? 
Frank.—It certainly seems so, Father, but I think 
I should not have discovered it myself. 
Fred.—I have been listening to what yon have said, 
and no doubt it is so; but I have an idea which I 
should like to have you reconcile with the goodness 
you have alluded to. 
Father.—Well, my son, wliat is it? 
Fred.—These teeth, it seems to me, are not worth 
much, after all; for they soon get loose and come out. 
What do you say to that, Father? 
Father.—What do I say to that ? Why, I say it is 
additional proof of God’s goodness. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
231 
First and second sets of teeth. 
Fred.—-It may be so, but I should like to know 
what you have to say in proof of it. 
Father.—At the early ago when the teeth appear, 
die bones of the jaw are small and tender, and are 
not capable of holding large teeth, such as men and 
women have. Still, the little child needs teeth as 
much as it will when it arrives at manhood. Now, 
what should be done in such a case ? To have large, 
solid teeth that will last through manhood and old 
age is impossible. And if it were possible, how would 
an infant, or a little child appear with a mouthful of 
large teeth, such as adults have? 
Fred.—Would they not grow large as the child 
grew up ? 
Father.—No, there is not room for them, conse- 
quently they would crowd upon each other. Now were 
such a case submitted to an ingenious mechanic, what 
would he say would be the course dictated by wisdom ? 
Fred.—What would he say, Father? 
Father.—He would probably tell you, that, as the 
bones of the jaw are small and tender, and not capable 
of holding large teeth, there should be a temporary 
set of small teeth,—such as will answer the present 
purpose, until the jaw bones grow large and strong, 
and are capable of holding large, teeth; then, the 
temporary teeth should be taken out, and large solid 
ones put in, that will last for life. And this.is prf 
ciscly the plan adopted by our Creator. 232 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The teeth a wonderful provision. 
He has not only provided in the jaw, long befoi 
they are needed, the little teeth that come out firs4 
but underneath them, he has also provided anotln 
set, which are to become the permanent teeth. Th 
second set of teeth grow up under the first, and a 
the age of from six or seven, to twelve or fourteen 
years, they displace these first teeth, as I will soon 
explain, and grow up in their place. The first teeth, 
however, are not all removed at once, for that would 
leave the child without any to chew its food with,— 
but one or.two at a time, disappear, until all are 
finally gone, and their place supplied by the large, 
solid teeth, which are designed to remain for life. 
The providing of these second teeth, is more won- 
derful than the first. The first will be needed in a 
few months, but the second will not be required for 
several years ; yet they are placed in the jaw before 
the child is born—a treasure, locked up for future 
development and use, although not necessary for some 
eight or ten years afterwards. Now what do you say 
to that, Frederick. 
Fred.—I acknowledge my ignorance. 
Father.—The only way to improve and become 
wise, my son, is to be willing, as I see you are, to 
confess your errors. 
Fred.—I am very willing to do that, Father, for 
the sake of gaining useful knowledge, and am very 
thankful for the instruction you have given us. And RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
233 
Temf’-rxBry aud permanent teeth. 
you heave any thing more to say about the teeth, 
e should be delighted to hear it. 
Father.—There are several facts of interest which 
wish to name, but really, we are proceeding with 
ery little order or system. Let us be a little more 
definite and systematic. 
The first set of teeth, of which I have spoken, is 
called the teml-po-ra-ry, or milk teeth. There are 
twenty of the temporary teeth,—ten in each jaw. 
The second set are called per'-ma-nent teeth. As the 
jaw bones have become large before the second teeth 
appear, it takes a larger number of the second than it 
did of the first to fill the jaw. Accordingly we find 
that there are thirty-two of the permanent teeth,— 
sixteen in each jaw. 
Fig. 39. 
THE TEETH. 
I’ig. 39. a, b, are the cutting teeth (incisors) of the upper and lower jaw; c, 
1 the eye tooth, (cuspid;; d, e, are small grinders, (bicuspids); f, g, li, are 
’uders, (molars.) 234 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Crown and root of the tooth. 
H-AIMES OF THE TEETH. 
The four front teeth, in each jaw, are called in-1 
sors, (cutting teeth) ; the tooth next to the incis( 
on each side, is called the cus-pid (eye tooth) ; ti 
next two, bi-cus'-pids, (small grinders) ; the next twe 
mo'-lars, (grinders). As the last tooth on each side 
does not make its appearance until the person is about 
twenty years of age, they are called wisdom teeth. 
Each tooth consists of two parts, called the crowr 
and the root. The root is firmly set in the socket 
The crown is the part that protrudes from the jaw- 
bone. The incisors, cuspids, and bicuspids, have each 
but one root. The molars of the lower jaw have two 
roots, while those of the upper jaw have three. 
The teeth of each division that I have named, differ 
greatly from each other in form and in the office they 
fulfil, each being perfectly adapted to its peculiar 
office. The incisors, or cutting teeth, particularly in 
the upper jaw, are wide, thin and sharp, like a chisel, 
and are designed for cutting food, such as bread, fruit, 
etc., and how admirably are they adapted to this 
object. Take an apple, for example. How easily 
will one bite a piece from it, the cutting teeth acting 
like so many chisels. Having separated a piece from 
an apple, or from a slice of bread, or from any othei 
food, the next object is to grind it, or break down its 
more solid portions. But this cannot be done by the 
cutting teeth,—if you should attempt it, you wou1 RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
235 
Design of the different teeth. 
find that you only cut the food into smaller pieces, 
without grinding or breaking its texture To accom- 
plish this necessary object, large teeth, with a broad 
md or surface are needed, and the molars, or grinders, 
arc perfectly adapted to this purpose, and were 
specially designed for it by the Creator. 
The incisors, or front teeth, then, are for cutting 
the food, and the molars, or jaw teeth, as they are 
commonly called, are for grinding it. 
That you may more clearly see the value of this 
arrangement, and the wisdom and goodness that di- 
rected it, let us suppose it to be reversed, and the teeth 
transposed, so that the cutting teeth would be on the 
sides of the jaw, and the molars or grinders in front. 
Now with these broad teeth in front, could you bite 
a piece from an apple, or could you grind it with the 
sharp cutting teeth on the sides ? Do you not see that 
with this arrangement, the teeth would be almost use- 
less and utterly unfit for the office they are to perform ? 
Mary.—I see, Father, that it is so; and it is cer- 
tainly wonderful, that God should lake such care in 
making our teeth, so that they should be just what are 
needed. 
COMPOSITION OP1 THE TEETH. 
Father.—The teeth are similar, in ccimposition, to 
other bones, and yet they are different hi sdme impor- 
tant particulars. They are much harder than bone, 236 
ANATOMY AND EHYSIOLOGY. 
Effects of acids on the teeth. 
and as they are designed for a very different purpose, 
they require solidity and strength, whieh qualities 
they possess in a remarkable degree. 
You recollect I told you, when describing the bones, 
that they were covered with a firm membrane called 
pereosteum. But the teeth have a covering totally 
different. It is a hard, smooth, glassy substance, 
called en-am'-el. It is remarkable for its hardness> 
Few metals are as hard as the enamel of the teeth. 
The internal part of the tooth is called the i'-vo-rij, 
and forms the body of the tooth. 
Frank.—Why do the teeth have a covering so dif- 
ferent from the bones. 
Father.—For two reasons. 1st. The teeth have a 
great deal of work to do in grinding the food; and if 
the outside, or covering, was not extremely hard, they 
would soon wear out. 2d. The ivory, or body of the 
tooth, is composed of substances which are readily 
decomposed by strong acids, while acids have little 
effect upon the enamel. Now had not the ivory of the 
tooth been protected by a covering upon which acids 
have little or no effect, vinegar, and other acids used 
with food, would soon decompose the body of the 
tooth, and it would crumble to atoms. This is proved 
by the fact, that when the enamel, from whatever 
cause, is broken, the tooth soon decays. 
Frank.—I understand it now, and it all shows the 
kind care of our Creator. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
Roots of first teeth absorbed. 
Fred.—Father, I wish to ask a question. 
Father.—It is usually easier. Frederick, to ask 
questions than to answer them. But so far as I am 
able, it will give me pleasure to answer any query you 
may present. 
Fred.—I recollect when my first teeth became loose, 
and came out, they had no roots ; and appeared as if 
they were kept in place by the gums. Now I would 
like to ask how they were held in so fast without 
roots ? 
Father.—The first teeth have roots as well as the 
second, and it is the root alone that keeps them in 
place. 
Fred.—How then do they come out without roots ? 
Father.—As the second or permanent teeth begin 
to grow and press upon the roots of the first, the root 
is gradually removed by absorption, to make room for 
the second, the absorption removing the root of the 
first, as fast as the growth of the second requires it, 
until it is all absorbed, at which time the second tooth 
has nearly made its appearance. When the root is 
all absorbed, there is nothing to hold the tooth but 
the gums, and consequently it becomes loose. 
Fred.—But what can be the object, in the absorp- 
tion of the root! Can you discover any benevolent 
design in that ? 
Father.—It is not to be supposed, my son, that we 
can always discover the designs of the Creator, by the 238 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Absorption of the roots—a wonderful provision. 
limited examinations we are able to make of his works. 
Man is too ignorant, even the most learned, to assume 
that, without arrogance. But in this case, it seems to 
me, that two objects at least, are apparent. Had the 
first teeth been pressed out as soon as the second 
began to grow, as they would have been, had not the 
root been absorbed, the places would have been vacant, 
or without teeth, for a long time,—until the second 
had grown out,—whereas, by absorbing the root of 
the first, the second is allowed so full a growth before 
the first is removed, that the vacancy is soon filled, 
and the child is deprived of the teeth but a short 
time. 
But another, and more important reason is the fol- 
lowing. Had not the root of the first tooth been 
absorbed to make room for the second, the first would 
be pushed out of its socket as fast as the growth of 
the second required, and would thus protrude beyond 
the other teeth,—which would prevent their shutting 
together, and render the mastication of food impos- 
sible. 
Now, what a condition is this for one to be in,—to 
have, for several years, some of the teeth projecting 
beyond the rest, so as to render it impossible to close 
the mouth. And yet, this would have been the state 
of every child, had not God in his goodness prevented 
it, by endowing the absorbents with power to remove 
the roots of the first teeth as fast as the growth of 
the second requires it. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
239 
Two movements of the jaw. 
Fred.—O, Father, how wonderful all this is ! 
Father.—It is wonderful, my son, and nothing hut 
God’s goodness could have prompted such an ar- 
rangement. 
Fred.—What a sad condition that would be,—to 
have the mouth kept open in consequence of one or 
two teeth being longer than the others. 
Father.—It would have been dreadful indeed, and 
let us thank God for his tender care over us, and his 
goodness manifested towards us. 
The teeth, placed in the jaw-bone, present a pecu- 
liar appearance. They are set in sockets called al'-ve- 
o-lar processes, which give them great firmness, tho 
tooth appearing like one bone driven into another. 
There are two movements of the lower jaw in mas- 
ticating or chewing food. One is the action by which 
the mouth is opened and closed, or by which the teeth 
are brought together when they have been separated 
by opening the mouth, the other is a lateral or side 
movement,—the jaw moving from right do left, or 
from left to right. The first of these movements is 
for cutting or dividing the food, the latter for grinding 
it between the large teeth. 
The first movement—that of opening and closing 
the mouth, is produced by two large muscles situated 
on each side of the face. 
The lateral, or grinding movement, is caused by 
muscles attached to the lower jaw, on the inside. The 240 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
What causes the toothache. 
action of these muscles can be plainly felt, by placing 
the fingers, while masticating food, upon the face 
above the angle of the lower jaw. These muscles are 
of great strength, and are capable of acting with an • 
incredible degree of force. In the disease called 
locked-jaw, these muscles, from some unnatural irri- 
tation, become so firmly contracted that the patient 
cannot open his mouth, and it would be difficult, in 
some cases, even to pry it open. 
Mary.—I wish to ask, Father, what causes the 
toothache. 
Father.—In the centre of each tooth, is a small 
nerve, which is entirely destitute of sensation so long 
as the tooth remains sound; but when, from any cause, 
the enamel becomes broken, the tooth decays, and the 
nerve is left bare, then the action of the air and irri- 
tating substances cause pain. 
This pain is sometimes extremely severe, and in 
some cases is attended with a violent thrill at each 
pulsation of the heart and arteries, which is called 
"jumping toothache.” 
Fred.—How can the pulsation of the heart and 
arteries have any effect upon the teeth, as there arc 
no blood-vessels in the teeth ? 
Father.—There are blood-vessels in the teeth. The 
nerve of each tooth is accompanied by a minute artery 
and vein,—the artery to supply nutriment to the tooth 
for its growth, and the vein to carry back the blood. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
241 
The teeth an ornament. 
Fred.—Well, Father, I see I know but little about 
these things, and I am thankful to you for this instruc- 
tion. 
Father.—I must close the present interview with a 
remark upon the effect of the teeth on personal ap- 
pearance. God designed the teeth for ornament as 
vvell as for utility. "The expression and general 
ippearance of the face depends much upon the condi- 
ion of the teeth. If they are perfectly regular, pure 
and clean, they contribute more to beauty than any of 
he other features ; but if neglected, diseased, or in- 
trusted with offensive accumulations, they excite in 
he beholder both pity and disgust.” The influence 
.vTiieli the teeth exercise over beauty is greater than 
all the other attractions of the countenance. This 
ornament is equally attractive in both sexes;—it dis- 
tinguishes the elegant from the slovenly gentleman— 
it diffuses amiability over the countenance by softening 
the features. 
But it is more especially to woman that fine teeth are 
accessary, since it is her destiny first to gratify the 
eye before she touches the soul, and captivates and 
mslaves the heart. The dark, black eye may be ever 
m piercing, the soft blue eye may melt with tcndcr- 
icss, the rose may blossom brightly upon a downy 
heek, yet all charms lose their power if the teeth are 
efective. 
Mary.—I suppose, Father, that you intended your 
ast, remarks for me. 242 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
The teeth an ornament. 
Father.—It would be well, my daughter, for all 
misses to remember the lines of Moore,— 
“ What pity, blooming girl, 
That lips so ready for a lover 
Should not beneath their ruby casket cover 
One tooth of pearl! 
But like a vase beside the church-yard stone 
Be doomed to blush o’er many a mouldering bone.” 
In a future conversation, I shall give instruction 
relative to the care and preservation of the teeth. CONVERSATION XVII. 
TIIE SPECIAL SENSES. 
THE SENSES THE ONLY MEDIUM OF OBTAINING KNOWLEDGE. 
THE SE3STSE OE VISION. 
The organ of vision—The optic nerve—The eye—Muscles of 
the eye—Orbits of the eye—Protecting organs—How tiie 
ACT OR FUNCTION OF SEEING IS PERFORMED—Why WE SEE OBJECTS 
SINGLE AND NOT DOUBLE—THE FOCAL POINT OF VISION. 
Father.—In previous conversations I have endeav- 
ored to show that all the organs and parts of our 
bodies perform distinct functions, each differing totally 
from all others. 
Thus the bones give firmness and form to the body, 
—the muscles produce all its movements,—the nerves 
are the medium through which the mind controls tho 
muscles,—the stomach digests the food,—the heart 
and blood-vessels circulate the blood,—the lacteals 
absorb the nutriment of the blood,—the secretory 
organs draw off its impurities, etc., etc. 
Of the myriads of parts of which our bodies arc 
composed, no two perform the same function. Some 
of these I have already described, but as yet I have 244 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
How we obtain knowledge. 
said nothing', very definite, as to the mode and medium 
by which the mind holds connection, and communicates 
with the external world. 
Fred.—I thought the mind was separate from the 
world. 
Father.—I mean the ways or means by which the 
mind obtains knowledge. 
Fred.—Do we not obtain knowledge by reading 
books, and by instruction at school? 
Father.—Books and teachers are means of instruc- 
tion, but without the senses they cannot be mediums 
of obtaining knowledge. Wliat book or teacher could 
make you understand what light, darkness or color is, 
if you had no eyes ;—or what pain is, if you had never 
felt it; or wThat sweet or bitter is, if you had never 
tasted either; or the fragrance of a rose, or the fetor 
of putrid matter, if you had never smelled them; or 
what music or thunder is, if you had never heard 
either ? 
Now all these are mediums by which we obtain 
knowledge. What can we know of any thing, in all 
the universe of God, unless we obtain the knowl- 
edge, either by seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting or 
smelling ? 
Fred.—What! are there only five ways, by which 
we obtain all that can be known on all subjects ? 
Father.—True, my son, and these are called the 
five senses ; namely, the sense of Touch, Taste, Smell, 
Hearing, and Vision or Sight. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
245 
Office of the eye. 
Frank.—Then God has made organs in our bodies 
for the purpose of giving us knowledge, has he? 
Father.—He has, and most wonderful organs they 
are, too. 
Mary.—I suppose they are called knowledge or- 
gans. 
Father.—You can call them so my child, if you 
;hoose. 
I shall now proceed to give you a brief description 
of the special senses, their organs and functions. I 
will commence with the organ of vision— 
THE EYE- 
The design and mechanism of the eye, is not sur- 
passed, perhaps not equalled, by any other organ. 
The sense of sight is the most perfect, and contributes 
to our enjoyment and happiness more than any of the 
other senses. 
The eye informs the mind of the color, form, vol- 
ume, and position of the various objects by which we 
are surrounded. Through the eye, the mind perceives, 
and is delighted with the beauty of the rose, the lily, 
the landscape, the architectural proportions of edifices, 
and the splendors of the starry heavens. Vision 
guides us in our daily avocations, and guards from 
dangers that ever beset us. It is an essential means 
by which we obtain a knowledge of the sciences, and 
the arts of life. No one can estimate its value until 
deprived of its use. 246 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Optic nerve. 
In form, the eye is a spheroid, though usually called 
a globe. It is nearly an inch in diameter. It consists 
of the Op-tic Nerve, muscles, coats, humors, pro- 
tecting organs, and several other parts, which I will 
briefly describe. 
Fig. 39. 
Fig. 89. 1,1, the globe of the eye; 2, the crossing of the optic nerve; 8, the 
origin of two pairs of cranial nerves. 
THE OPTIC NERVE. 
The OrTic Nerve arises from the central portion 
of the base of the brain, by two roots. As they pro- 
ceed forward they diverge or separate from each other, 
and enter the globe of each eye at the back, and ex- 
pand into a whitish membrane which constitutes the 
principal part of the ret'-i-na. 
The Ball or Globe is a perfect optical instrument 
constructed upon principles essentially the same as 
instruments formed and used by opticians. The sides 
of the globes are formed of coats or membranes, while RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
247 
Names of the different parts of the eye. 
Fig. 40. 
THE GLOBE OF THE EYE. 
Fig. 40. E, a good view of the cornea fitted into the sclerotic coat; A, the 
choroid; C, the retina; K, the virtreous humor; D, the optic nerve; I,'the 
lens; O, the iris, pointed on the back side with pigment; F, the aqueous 
humors. 
the inside is filled with what is called refracting 
Humors. 
There are three Coats or membranes,—1st. The 
jScle-rot'-ic and Corn'-e-a. 2d. Cho'-roid, I'-rus, and 
Cil'-ia-ry process. 3d. The JEtet'-i-na. 
There are also three Humors :—The A'-que-ous or 
watery, the Crys'-tal-line (lens) and the Vit'-re-ous 
or glassy. 
The Sclerotic Coat is a dense, fibrous, and very 
firm membrane, which covers about four-fifths of the 
ball or globe of the eye. To this membrane, the 
muscles are attached, which move the eye. It is very 
white and is what is commonly called " the white of 248 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Cornea, iris, pupil, retina. 
the eye.” The one-fifth of the eyeball not cover 
with the sclerotic coat, is the front part, and is co 
ered by the Cornea, which is a transparent layt 
through which light is admitted. It is circular in fom 
and on the outside is convex, or oval, and on th 
inside is concave, like the glass of a watch,—or it i 
what is called convexo-concave. The cornea is firml 
attached by its edges, to the sclerotic coat, and thes 
two form tho entire covering of the ball of the eye. 
The Choroid Coat is of a rich chocolate brown 
color on the outside, and black on the inside. 
The Iris forms a partition between the anterior or 
front, and tho posterior or back chamber of the eye. 
Its color varies greatly in different persons. It has a 
circular opening called the Pu'-jpil. 
There are two layers of muscular fibres around the 
pupil, called radiating and circular. By the action of 
the radiating, the pupil is dilated or enlarged. By 
that of the circular, it is contracted. 
Fred.—Why does the pupil relax and contract? 
Father.—The object is very important, which I wil1 
explain at the right time. 
The Retina is formed of three layers,—the exter- 
nal, middle or nervous, and internal or vascular. 
The external is an extremely thin membrane. Tho RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
249 
Humors, muscles, etc. 
middle is the expansion of the optic nerve. The vas- 
cular consists mostly of minute arteries and veins. 
You will recollect that the iietina forms the back 
part of the inside of the eye. Its importance in the 
function of seeing is great, as I shall show before we 
dismiss the subject. 
Mary.—Father, you said that the globe or ball of 
die eye is tilled with refracting humors. What are 
they? 
Father.—They are fluids which crook, or bend tho 
rays of light while passing through them. 
Mary.—What! bend tho rays of light! 
Father.—I will explain it after I have finished tho 
description of the parts of the eye. 
There are six muscles of the eye, as I stated to you, 
I believe, in a previous conversation. These are 
attached to the bones of the orbit at one extremity, 
and at the other, by tendons, to the sclerotic coat. 
These muscles are so placed, and draw from such 
various points, that they move the eye in every 
conceivable direction, and place it in every possible 
position. 
They also, sometimes, become permanently con- 
ractcd at the outer or inner corners of the eye. If it 
be the muscles of the outer corner, the eye is turned 
out, producing what is called ” wall eye.” If it be 
the inner corner which is contracted, then it is turned 
’a, causing what is called " cross eye.” 250 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Protecting organs. 
Fred.—I have seen such cases ; is there no remedy ? 
Father.—Yes, my son, such cases are easily cured 
by a skilful surgical operation, in partially cutting the 
contracted muscle, so as to allow the eye to turn back 
to its proper position. 
Frank.—Will you now tell us about the protecting 
organs you before mentioned ? Has God made organs 
on purpose to protect the eye ? 
Father.—He has ;—and it is proof of the truth ol 
the declaration of the Psalmist,—■" His tender mercies 
are over all his works.” 
" The Protecting Organs are the Or'-bits, Eye- 
brows, Eyelids, and Lach'-ry-mal Apparatus.” 
The Orbits are deep cavities in the bones of the 
face, called sockets, wrought out, apparently, with 
the nicest mechanical skill. 
There is a hole through the bone at the bottom of 
the orbit, for the passage of the optic nerve. The eye 
is imbedded in fatty matter which lines the socket, 
and serves as a soft cushion upon which the eye rests 
and performs all its movements without pain or irri- 
tation. 
In youth and middle age, the socket is so fillet 
with this adipose or fatty bedding, that the eye stand 
out prominently. Thus the figurative words of the 
Psalmist,—•" Their eyes stand out with fatness,” are 
literally true. In advanced age, and in protrarted RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
251 
Eyebrows, eyelids, e(c. 
sickness, this matter is absorbed, and the eye sinks 
into the socket, and presents the appearance peculiar 
to the aged and diseased. 
How clearly we discover, both wisdom and good- 
ness in the location of the eye;—a deep cavity, with 
a bony rim, that affords a perfect protection to this 
delicate and important organ. So perfect is the pro- 
tection, that if one in the darkness of night, should 
strike the face against the edge of an open door, the 
face might be injured above and below the eye, while 
the eye itself would remain untouched. Indeed, no 
part of the face is less liable to injury than the eye. 
The Eyebrows are projecting arches, forming the 
upper part of the orbits. They are covered with 
short thick hair, so laid, turning from the nose out- 
ward to the right and left, as to prevent the free 
perspiration flowing into the eyes. They also protect 
them by affording a shade from too intense light. 
Another means of protecting the eye, is what you 
see every day, and yet, perhaps, have never given it 
a serious thought, I refer to the Eyelids, which may 
be regarded as the curtain of the eye. 
They are lined on the inside by a smooth membrane, 
called the Con-junc-ti'-va, which secretes the fluid that 
moistens and lubricates the eye. 
The principal object and function of the eyelid seem 
fo be, 1st. To moisten the eye during our waking ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Office of the eyelids. 
hours, by passing frequently over the eyeball, also by 
its rapid motion to shield the eye from motes or any 
thing that might cause pain and injure its delicate 
structure. 2d. To cover it during the time of sleep, 
thus shielding it from harm during our unconscious 
hours. 
This membrane—the eyelid, is both voluntary and 
involuntary in its action. We can open or close it at 
pleasure—its action is perfectly under the control of 
the will, and yet, most of its movements arc made 
entirely independent of the will. 
Who ever thinks to close his eyes on laying his 
head upon his pillow to sleep ? Or who ever thinks 
to open his eyes on waking in the morning ? 
And yet they are sure to close on going to sleep, 
and to open on waking. Now here is an arrangement 
of the Creator, the wisdom and goodness of which 
are equalled only by its utility,—that muscles so per- 
fectly voluntary, and under the control of the will, 
should act so perfectly and independent 
of the will, simply because our safety, convenience 
and comfort require it. Muscles which we can move 
as we please, yet when we forget or neglect to do so,, 
they move themselves, and always in the right direc- 
tion. When weary nature indicates the need of sleep, 
whether by day or night, the curtain drops and shuts 
out both the light and the world; and we sink into 
quiet repose ; and on waking, the curtain is raised and RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
253 
the light again greets and illuminates the eye,—and 
all this without the least care of ours. 
Now as we seldom or never think to close the eyes 
on going to sleep,—did not the eyelids close involun- 
tarily, the eyes would be glaring open, dry and 
glazed, exposed to insects and dust, during the large 
portion of life which we spend in sleep. Now how 
long do you suppose we should have eyes, were they 
not protected by the involuntary action of the lids ? 
Fred.—Not long, certainly. How numerous the 
proofs of God’s kind care for our safety and comfort ! 
The lachrymal glands. 
Fig. 41. 
THE LACHRYMAL GLAND. 
Fig. 41. 1, the lachrymal gland; 2, the ducts leading to the upper eyelid; 3, 
8, the tear points; 4, the nasal sac; 5, the termination of the nasal duct. 
Father.—The Lachrymal Glands, which secrete 
the tears, are situated at the upper and outer angle of 
the orbit. The gland is oval shaped, and about three 
quarters of an inch in length. 254 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The lachrymal secretions—the tears. 
Connected with this gland are several small ducts 
which open upon the upper lid, and pour the tears 
upon the eye, which, from this cause, is always kept 
moist. How wonderful is this arrangement! 
The lachrymal secretion taking place at the upper 
part of the eye, so as to flow down over the ball; and 
the lid, involuntarily and unconsciously to ourselves, 
moving up and down over the eye almost every waking 
moment of life, for the purpose of spreading these 
secretions over the eye to keep it moist. 
Fred.—What would be the effect, Father, if the 
quantity secreted should be more than is needed to 
moisten the eye ? I suppose in that case, the tears 
would flow over the face. 
Father.—Such would be the result, had no provis- 
ion been made to meet such an emergency. But this 
necessity is provided for. There is a canal, called 
the Nasal Duct, which leads from each eye to the 
cavity in the nose, or nostril, by which any excess of 
the lachrymal secretion, or tears, is carried off. (See 
Fig. 41—4, page 253). 
There is one thing worthy of note, in regard to the 
lachrymal secretion, which is, that when the eye be- 
comes irritated by means of dust, motes, or any other 
substance, these glands pour out a large quantity of 
tears for the purpose of washing away the irritating 
cause. 
I have now briefly described the principal parts of RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
255 
How vision is performed. 
the eye concerned in the act of seeing. Do you 
understand any better, from what I have said, in what 
way, or how the act or function of seeing is performed ? 
Fred.—I do not. I can only say that I see with 
my eyes ! 
Father.—But how do you see ? 
Fred.—I look straight at a thing. The sight goes 
from my eyes to the object I look at. 
Father—Is that the best explanation you can give ? 
What do you say Frank? Can you give a better 
answer ? 
Frank.—No, Father. I thought, as Frederick 
said, the sight goes from the eye to the object we see. 
Father.—What do you say about it, Mary? 
Mary.—I thought we see in the way that Frederick 
and Frank has said we do. 
Father.—My children, the reverse of what you have 
said is true, if I understand what you mean. Instead 
of the sight going from the eye to the object seen, it 
is the object seen that comes to the eye, and not only 
so but goes into it, and remains at the farthest or back 
part of it. 
Fred.—Do you mean to say that when I see a 
man, he comes into my eye? 
Father.—Not exactly that; I mean that when you 
see a man, his exact image or picture, is formed on 
the retina, and is conveyed to the brain and mind by 
the optic nerve. 256 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The principles of vision. 
And it is so with each and every object we behold, 
whether great or small, and this produces the sense 
of vision. 
Fred.—Well, Father, that is certainly a new idea. 
Does then the picture formed on the retina contain 
the exact shades of color, as well as the form of every 
thing we see ? 
Father.—It does. Color, form, size, every thing 
in the picture, is perfect. 
Frank.—You surprise me, Father ! Have I always 
had pictures formed in my eyes,—pictures of the 
beautiful flowers of the garden and field,—the clouds 
and starry heavens, and yet never knew it? 
Father.—Such is the fact, my son. 
Frank.—I should be pleased to know how the 
image or picture is formed on the retina. 
Father.—To understand the principles by which 
the image is formed on the retina in the act of seeing, 
involves a knowledge of the science of Optics. To 
be acquainted with the structure of the eye, is not 
sufficient to give a knowledge of the theory of vision. 
To comprehend the theory of vision, you must be 
familiar with the properties of light. And this requires 
a more extensive knowledge of the science of natural 
O 
Philosophy than you have yet obtained. I shall, there- 
fore, defer a minute explanation of the theory of vision, 
until you are better prepared to understand it. I will, 
however, state some general propositions in regard 
to it. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
257 
The principles of vision. 
Rays of light emanate from every object we see. 
These, as they enter the eye through the pupil, are 
refracted by the humors of which I have spoken, and 
thereby are so arranged as to form upon the retina, 
the exact image of the object from which they proceed. 
The principle by which the picture is formed upon 
the retina, is essentially, if not precisely the same, as 
that by which the artist produces his picture upon the 
prepared glass placed in the instrument called the 
camera,—the glass taking the place in the camera that 
the retina does in the eye, and the lenses in the camera, 
like the humors in the eye, refracting and converging 
the rays of light to form the picture. 
Mary.—Do you mean, Father, Ambrotypc pictures 
and the like ? 
Father.—Yes, my child, I mean all kinds of pic- 
tures that are obtained by the use of the camera, or 
the Cam'-e-ra Ob-scu'-ra, as it may be more properly 
termed. 
Mary.—What is that, Father? 
Father.—It is an optical machine or instrument 
used in a darkened room, for throwing the image of 
an external object upon a plain surface. Its principle 
of action, as I have before said, is essentially like 
that of the eye in forming pictures. There is this 
difference, it is true, showing how much more perfect 
are the works of God than those of man. The picture 
of persons, or landscapes, or any object obtained by 258 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Picture formed on the retina. 
the artist by the use of the camera, is formed upon 
glass previously prepared with chemical substances, 
to absorb and retain the rays of light thrown upon it, 
by which the picture is formed;—whereas the retina 
is always ready to receive the picture. 
Mary.—Yes, Father, but the picture made by the 
artist upon the glass, will last a great many years, 
and be just as bright as it was at first. But the pic- 
ture made upon the retina is gone as quick as the 
person or object is out of sight. 
Father.—That is true, my child, and it is addi- 
tional proof of God’s wisdom and goodness. 
Mary.—How so ? What would the artist’s picture 
be worth, if it was as easily and quickly defaced and 
destroyed as the picture on the retina ? 
Father.—It would be worthless, it is true,—but the 
picture of the artist was designed to be durable—its 
value depending upon its permanency. Now let us 
suppose the picture formed upon the retina to be 
equally lasting, what would be the result ? Suppose 
you look out upon the fields and forest spread out 
before you,—the picture of a beautiful landscape 
would be formed upon the retina, and there it would 
remain. You would ever after see a beautiful land- 
scape, but could never see any thing else. The retina 
would all be occupied by the landscape, and no other 
picture could be formed upon it. Father, Mother, 
Brother, Sister, Friends, books, you could never RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
259 
Function of the fibres around the pupil. 
again see. The goodness of the Creator is most clearly 
seen, in the endowment of the retina with the ability 
instantly to receive the picture, and to part with it as 
quickly, thus giving room for others, and if need be, 
totally different ones, and thus thousands may be 
formed in a short time, each as perfect as if there had 
been but one. 
Mary.—It is wonderful! 
Frank.—Father, you promised to explain the object 
and use of the radiating and circular fibres around the 
pupil, by which it is dilated and contracted. 
Father.—The pupil, you recollect, is a circular 
opening in the iris, through which light is admitted 
and falls upon the retina. Now the retina, being the 
expansion of the optic nerve, is very sensible to the 
quantity of light thrown upon it. 
To illustrate.—If we pass suddenly from darkness 
into a brilliant light, it dazzles the eye, and causes 
severe pain, and the pupil contracts and shuts out a 
part of the light. If we pass from a bright light into 
a dark room, at first we can see no objects around us, 
but in a short time the pupil expands and lets in more 
light, and we at length are able to discover objects 
that we could not see before. 
In a word, when the light is so intense as to cause 
pain, the pupil contracts for the purpose of shutting 
some of it out. When there is not light enough, it 
then expands to let in more. And this action, so ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Endowments of the pupil. 
perfect and so important, is entirely involuntary. It 
takes place without a care or thought of ours. And, 
what is more astonishing, it is regulated by the light 
itself,—too much causing the pupil to contract, and 
too little making it expand. In short, it is a perfectly 
self-regulating apparatus, controlled entirely by the 
intensity of light present at any given time. 
Now who cannot sec, that when the Creator designed 
and formed the eye, all these circumstances were taken 
into consideration, and this necessity, so important to 
our comfort, duly provided for by the formation of the 
muscular fibres whose office it is to control the size of 
the pupil, and thereby the quantity of light admitted 
to the eye. 
Had the Creator been indifferent to our comfort 
can we suppose we should find such an arrangement, 
in the eye? But for this, the size of the pupil would 
always be the same, and during every clear, sunny 
day, the eye would be dazzled and pained, if not 
blinded, by the intensity of the light,—and in a cloudy 
day, one would be in almost total darkness. Should 
we not say with the Psalmist,—'f All thy works praise 
thee.” 
Frank.—I think we should. I did not suppose 
so many proofs of God’s goodness could be drawn from 
this one sense. 
Father.—I have not spoken of them all, and shall 
not. But there are one or two others, which I must 
name before we close our present interview. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
Focus of sight defined. 
In the act of seeing, there is an image of the object 
seen, formed upon the retina of each eye, still we see 
but one object. 
Fred.—Why do we not see two objects instead of 
one? 
Father.—It is because the two pictures, being 
exactly alike, convey but one sensation or impression 
to the mind. The rays of light, which form the pic- 
ture upon each retina, proceed from one object, which 
is what is called the Fo'-eus of sight,—that is, it is 
the point where the rays of light meet. And every 
object we see, whether great or small, near or distant, 
constitutes the focal point of vision. And in order 
to have perfect vision, each eye must be turned in such 
a position as to allow the rays of light passing from 
the focal point through the pupil, to fall fairly upon 
the retina. Otherwise, two images or objects, instead 
of one will be seen. 
Now in the light of this fact, we may see what per- 
fection there is in the formation and action of the eyes. 
In moving them from one object to another, in order 
to perfect vision, the movements of both must be 
exactly alike. Should one move a little farther, or 
not quite so far as the other, vision would either be 
destroyed, or we should see things double. You will 
perceive, by moving the eyes in every direction, and 
to the greatest possible extent, that vision is as per- 
fect with the eyes turned in one position as another, 262 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Muscles and movements of the eyes. 
showing that the movement of each eye-ball perfectly 
accords with that of the other, and, that although 
each is moved by a distinct set of muscles, they 
are as perfectly alike, as if both were acted upon or 
moved by a single muscle. And the exactness of 
movement of each is not accidental, it is a matter of 
absolute necessity, for vision without it would be im- 
possible. 
I will just mention one thing more which must close 
this long conversation. Although there can be but 
one focal point, and consequently but one object seen 
distinctly at a time, yet while you arc looking directly 
at that object, you can see many others,—less dis- 
tinctly, at the same time. For example :—Let Frank 
and Mary stand in opposite corners of this room, and 
Frederick stand midway between them. While I 
look directly at Frederick, and he is the focal point 
of my vision, at the same time I see Frank and Mary 
with sufficient distinctness to notice any movements 
they may make. I look into the street, and while I 
place my eyes upon an object, that is, while one, say 
a horse, becomes the focal point of my vision, I can, 
at the same time, see many other horses, and men;— 
less distinctly, it is true, yet sufficiently so to see 
what they are doing. 
Frank.—What particular benefit is derived from it ? 
Father.—Very great, my son, and that you may 
know it, let us suppose that while one was looking at RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
263 
Size of the picture on the retina. 
omcthing, every thing else was shut out from view, 
le same as if you were looking through a tube. In 
iiat way how impossible it would be to avoid the 
dangers with which we are always beset, especially in 
the streets of large cities. Indeed it would be dan- 
gerous to go into them, for, seeing but one object at a 
time, we should be ignorant of any danger, and con- 
sequently could not avoid it. 
A frantic horse might be coming upon us, but not 
knowing it, even if we heard him, we should not 
know which way to escape, or if we attempted it, wo 
might run into greater danger. But with the present 
capacity of the eye, one can be looking upon a single 
object, and at the same time see all that is going on 
within the range of his vision, and thus avoid danger. 
But I will not now detain you longer. By due reflec- 
tion you will see how very valuable arc the endow- 
ments of the eye. 
Fred.—How large is the picture that is formed upon 
the retina? 
Father.—That depends upon the size of the object 
we look at, and its distance from us. 
The picture of a landscape of a hundred acres, with 
its hills, houses, trees, etc., would not be larger than 
a dime;—and pictures of other things would be in 
proportion;—by which you see what extreme perfec- 
tion there must be in the picture to show every form 
and feature of the object seen. 264 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
Gratitude expressed. 
Fred.—Father, you promised to tell us how th> 
refracting humors bend the rays of light. 
Father.—Light is refracted, or turned from it 
course, when it passes obliquely from one medium to 
another of different density, as from air to water, or 
from water to air. You have doubtless noticed that 
the part of a boatman’s oar which is under the water, 
appears to be bent ? This is because the rays of light, 
in passing from the oar in the water to the eyes, are 
bent or crooked. In the same way, the humors of 
the eye turn or bend the rays of light which enter it, 
so as to throw them upon the retina to form the pic- 
ture. / 
Fred.—I do not know, Father, how to express my 
gratitude for the instruction you have given us. 
Father.—All I wish in return is, that you will 
make a good use of the knowledge you obtain. CONVERSATION XVIII. 
SENSE OF HEARING. 
TS IMPORTANCE—The ORGAN OF HEARING—A DESCRIPTION OF THE 
ear—The auditory- nerve—The function of hearing, how 
PERFORMED, OR HOW SOUND IS PRODUCED—Can BE NO SOUND 
WHERE THERE IS NO EAR—HOW AN ECHO IS PRODUCED—THE 
PRINCIPLE OF ACTION OF THE SPEAKING TUBE, AND EAR-TRUMPET 
—The capacity of the ear—TnE power of sound to control 
THE FEELINGS OR EMOTIONS OF THE MIND. 
Father.—I intend, at our present interview, to give 
you a description of the sense of hearing, which, in 
ts importance, is next to that of seeing. By this 
sense we derive a great amount of knowledge from 
listening to lectures, sermons, debates, instruction 
from teachers, and in social converse. 
This sense affords us pleasure by listening to the 
deep tones of the organ, the sweet strains of the 
iman voice, and the warbling of the feathered 
mgsters. 
The organ of hearing is the Ear, which, in its 
ructure, is one of the most complicated in the human 
ody. Its parts are numerous, the function of some 
' which is not well understood. I shall give you ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Description of the ear. 
only a general description of the parts and functions— 
such as will best subserve our purpose, believing that 
a minute description would rather confuse than aid 
your understanding. 
Fig. 42. 
THE EAR. 
Fig. 42. a, is the pavilion or rim of the ear; c, the auditory canal; g, the 
membrana tympani; k, the tympanum; e, the bones of the ear; b, the semi- 
circular canals; f, the cochlea; h, the vestibule; i, theeustachian tube; d, aud- 
itory nerve. 
The Ear may be divided into three parts,—1st. 
The External Ear. 2d. The Tyml-pan-um, or middle 
Ear. 3d. The La'-by-rinth, or internal Ear. 
The External Ear is the JPin’-na, (pavilion o 
rim) and the au'-di-to-ry ca-nal! 
The Pinna is a broad plate, placed around the en 
trance of the auditory canal. It is formed of cartilage: 
and presents many ridges and furrows. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
267 
The parts of the ear. 
The Auditory Canal is about an inch in length, 
and extends inward to what is called the Tym'-pan-i, 
(drum of the ear). Short, stilf hairs are formed in 
this canal, which stretch across it, and were evidently 
designed to prevent the entrance of insects. There 
ire also, secretory glands or follicles in this canal, 
vhich secrete a very bitter substance called ear-wax. 
This, also, was doubtless designed to prevent foreign 
mgress. 
The Tympani is a thin membrane, of an oval shape, 
and about three-eighths of an inch in diameter. It is 
stretched across, and connected with, the external 
janal near its termination, and separates the external 
%m the middle ear. 
The Middle Ear, or Tympanum, is an irregular, 
jony cavity, filled with air. It contains four small, 
curiously shaped, movable bones, which form a connec- 
tion between the external and internal ear. There is 
a canal called the Eu-sta'-chi-an Tube, which forms a 
connection between the Tympanum and the Phar'- 
%x, or back part of the mouth, the object of which 
to admit air into the tympanum, which, by pressing 
[ually upon both sides, keeps the drum in a proper 
otate of tension. Without this air no sound can be 
produced. 
The Labyrinth is situated I between the tympanum 268 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The auditory nerve. 
Fig. 43. 
A VIEW OF THE LABYRINTH LAID OPEN, AND HIGHLY 
MAGNIFIED. 
Fig. 43. 1,1, the cochlea; 2, 3, the channels that wind around the centra’ 
point (5): 7, 7, the vestibule; 8, the foramen rotundum; 9, the fenestra ovalis ; 
4, 6,10, the semi-circular canals. 
and the Aud'-it-o-ry Nerve. It consists of bony canals 
filled with a fluid. 
Fred.—Father, you say, that the middle ear is filled 
with air, and the labyrinth or internal ear with a fluid, 
but you did not say what separates them. 
Father.—They are separated by a membrane whi( 
may be regarded as a second drum, the use of whit 
I will explain hereafter. 
The Auditory Nerve proceeds from the brain, 
enters the temporal bone, as it is called, and divides RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
269 
How sound is produced. 
no two branches at the bottom of the internal ear. 
.'hese branches radiate in all directions, upon the inner 
urface, in a manner somewhat resembling the optic 
nerve to form the retina. 
I have now described, very briefly, the most im- 
ortant parts of the mechanism of the organ of hearing. 
Now, my children, have you any definite idea how 
he function of hearing is performed, or how sound is 
>roduced. 
Fred.—My ideas are confused. I suppose the 
ound finds its way in and gets to the auditory nerve, 
lthough the passages arc so crooked, and filled up 
vvitli so many drums and other obstructions, that I 
hoidd think the car would be perfectly deaf. 
Father.—These " drums and other obstructions,” 
s you call them, are parts of the organ of hearing, 
,nd so far from forming obstructions, there could be 
10 sound produced without them. 
The function of hearing, or sound, as we call it, is 
produced by vibrations of the air falling or striking 
upon the tympani or drum of the ear. 
Frank.—Father, what causes vibrations of the air? 
Father.—Any thing in violent motion. When a 
fil rings, there is a trembling or vibration of the bell, 
hich produces vibrations of the air that surrounds it. 
When you strike a key of the piano, or draw a bow 
across the string of a violin, the string quivers or 
vibrates, and this communicates the same to the air. 270 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
How sound is produced. 
And when we speak or sing, the vibrations of the voca 
chords produce the sounds. Thunder causes so mucL 
vibration of the air, as, in some instances, to shake 
or jar the ground. The discharge of a cannon pro- 
duces vibrations that extend for miles around. 
Frank.—How does that produce sound ? 
Father.—This motion of the air falls upon, an< 
causes a vibration or quivering of the drum of the ear 
and this produces a vibration of the four little bones, 
and also of the air in the middle ear, and this motioi 
is conveyed to the internal drum and the fluid which 
fills the internal ear, and this conveys the vibratory 
motion to the auditory nerve, which carries it to the 
brain and mind, and thus produces the sense of heal- 
ing. Thus you see sound is produced wholly of vibra 
tions ;—1st. The vibration of some body or substance 
2d. Of the air. 3d. Of the drum of the ear. 4th 
Of the little bones and the air of the middle ear 
5th. Of the second drum. 6th. The vibrations o 
the fluid which fills the internal ear, and conveys them 
to the auditory nerve, by which the sensation is con- 
veyed to the mind. Every sound we hear, require 
all the vibrations I have named. Let the sounds l 
over so short, or follow each other ever so rapidlj 
still, the vibrations producing each sound, are pe 
fectly distinct,—they are never jumbled together, 
although they may chase each other, so to speak, with 
great rapidity. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
Why sounds are different. 
Fred.—But, Father, sometimes there is a continu- 
ous sound for a long time, how do vibrations produce 
that? 
Father.—When there is a continuous sound, there 
is a continuous vibration which produces it. 
Fred.—I always thought when I heard a bell ring, 
the sound came right from the bell and went directly 
into my ear. I never supposed that so much shaking 
was necessary before I could hear any thing. I should 
like to know how vibrations can produce so many 
different sounds. Why have we at one time a low or 
weak, and at another, aloud sound? Why is one 
soft and pleasant to the ear, like the strains of the 
JEolian harp, and another, harsh and grating, like the 
touches of a file or the screeches of an owl ? 
Father.—The difference in sound is produced by 
degrees of violence in the vibrations which cause them, 
—some being mild as the ripples upon the placid 
lake, only moved by the gentle zephyr, giving sounds 
which are pleasant and agreeable,—while the harsh 
and disagreeable are produced by the violent agitations 
of the air, falling upon the ear like the dashing of 
furious waves upon a rocky shore. 
There is one interesting fact in regard to the capacity 
of the ear which I must not fail to name here. It is 
that the ear is capable of hearing, with perfect dis- 
tinctness, several different sounds at the same time. 
Frank.—What benefit is there in that? ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
How different sounds are produced. 
Father.—Very much, my son. 
Frank.—Will you please to tell us what it is ? 
Father.—I will give you 0A0 instance out of many. 
Could we hear but one sound at a time, all the con- 
cords and harmony in music would be lost. To illus- 
trate :—In an octave, there are several different 
sounds, which produce in music what is called con 
cord. These are the first, or key note, the third, th< 
fifth, and the eighth or octave. Now when these arc 
all given together, either by different voices, or Iry 
the organ or piano, the ear hears each of them with 
equal distinctness. But we should have forever re- 
mained ignorant of all these sweet and harmonious 
sounds, were the ear capable of hearing but one at a 
time. 
Fred.—I would like to know how vibrations can 
produce different sounds at the same time. You told 
us that those which produce each sound are never 
jumbled together. 
Father.—You recollect I told you that the different 
sounds were produced by the different degrees of 
violence, or rapidity of the vibrations of the air. We 
might call them coarse and fine, the coarse producing 
the low, and the fine the high sounds. And while 
the coarse are acting upon the ear, causing the lower, 
the fine may, at the same time, produce the higher 
sounds. 
Mary.—Well, Father, I am thankful that God has RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
273 
Can be no sound where there Is no ear. 
5iven us ears,—I am so delighted with music that I 
should feel sad indeed, if I had no cars, for my piano 
would then be of no use, while now it is a great grati- 
5cation to me. 
Father.—My daughter, your piano would make no 
usic, if you had no ears. 
Mary.—Would make no music !—how could that 
)e? 
Father.—I mean what I say ; that your piano would 
lake no music if you had no ears to hear it. 
Mary.—If I should become deaf, would my piano 
teel so badly about it that the keys would refuse to 
pvc their accustomed sound? 
Fred.—What is the meaning of all this ? 
Father.—I mean simply, that there can be no sound 
where there is no ear to hear. 
Fred.—Do you mean that the discharge of a cannon 
would make no sound, or that there would be no 
diunder if there were no ears to hear? 
Father.—That is what I mean. 
Fred.—Then it is the ears that produce the sound, 
xs it? 
Father.—No, it is no more the ears that produce 
sound, than it is the eyes that cause sight. Could the 
iys of light produce vision if there were no eyes ? 
Fred.-r-O, I think I understand now. You mean 
it, as it is the vibrations of the air upon the drum 
the ear that causes sound, there can be no sound 
here there is no ear for the vibrations to act upon. 274 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
What causes an echo.—A speaking tube. 
Father.—That is correct, my son. 
Fred.—There is one thing in reference to soun 
that I could never understand, which is, why we ca 
hear a person speak so much more plainly in a hous 
or a church, than in the open air. 
Father.—It is for the reason that, in the open 
the vibrations spread off in every direction, but in 
house they are shut in by the walls of the room, an 
are reflected from one to another, consequently ai 
stronger. 
Mary.—Father, can you tell us what produces : 
echo ? 
Father.—That is very easily explained. When v 
speak, or halloo in the open air, the vibrations go o 
if there is nothing to obstruct them. But if the 
come against a house or any thing else, they are throw 
back, or rebound, and strike the drum of the eai 
causing an echo. 
Mary.—I wish to ask why we can hear so plain! 
through a long speaking tube ? 
Father.—The vibrations are shut in and reboun< 
from one side of the tube to the other, and as tin, 
cannot escape, they go directly through the tube 
Persons miles apart, may converse in this way. 
Mary.—Of what use is the rim of the ear? 
Father.—The office of the pinna or rim of the < 
is to catch and direct the vibration into the ear,— 
the mol a numerous these are that strike upon RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
275 
Ear trumpet. Capacity of the ear. 
Irum, the more distinct will be the hearing. Some 
persons who are very deaf, use what is called an ear 
rumpet. This instrument is made thus :—One- end 
is large, like a tunnel or a common trumpet, while the 
other is small enough to go into the external ear. In 
using it, the little end is inserted, and the large one, 
turned towards the person speaking, catches the 
vibrations and turns them into the ear. 
Fred.—You remarked that we are capable of hear- 
ing a great variety of sounds. Can you tell us how 
many ? 
Father.—I cannot. The capacity of the ear in that 
respect, is beyond computation or even conception. 
Fred.—You speak as though we are capable of 
hearing millions of different sounds. 
Father.—Millions but poorly express the capacity 
of the ear. 
Fred.—I am surprised at such a statement. 
Father.—Do you suppose there can be found two 
persons, the sound of whose voices is so exactly alike 
that no shade of difference can be detected ? 
Fred.—I do not know. What do you think, Father ? 
Father.—I believe we may regard it as certain, 
that no two persons can be found on earth, whose 
voices are precisely alike. Were it possible for us to 
hear every person on earth speak, we should, I think, 
find a difference in each voice. 
* 
Fred.—I do not recollect ever having heard two 
persons speak alike. 276 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Capacity of the ear. 
Father.—I doubt not that it is so. Consequently 
each person on earth, in speaking, makes a soun 
different from all others, so that the number of differ 
ent sounds is equal to the number of persons living, 
or to the population of the earth,—and can you tell 
me what that is ? 
Fred.—About one thousand millions. 
Father.—Consequently, the ear is capable of dis- 
tinguishing one thousand million sounds. But this is 
not all; for there are many thousand species of birds, 
no two of which sing alike. And in each species are 
many million individual birds, and no two of these 
sing alike,—that is, each produces notes differing 
from all the others. Indeed, the same may be said of all 
animate nature. There is no living creature, either 
man, beast, bird or insect, capable of making a sound, 
which does not make it different from all others. 
Now, do you not see, that the number of sounds 
we are able to distinguish, far exceeds all human 
computation, and is absolutely incalculable? 
The same thing is true of the different musical in- 
struments. Let the same note be struck by every 
kind or sort ever invented, and although there may 
be perfect unity and concord of sound, yet that pro- 
duced by each instrument, will be very different from 
that of any other. A perfect unity and concord may 
exist, yet a total dissimilarity of sound. 
Fred.—I do not understand. You say a unity of 
sound, and yet a variety also. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
277 
Capacity of the ear. 
Father.—I will illustrate. Let the same note be 
struck by the flute, violin, organ, and piano, and 
Ithough the sound is a perfect chord, yet the same 
ound given by each, is so totally different from all 
the others, that it may be readily known which in- 
strument produced it. 
Fred.—I am sure that is true, for I can easily dis- 
tinguish by the sound, the different musical instru- 
ments with which I am acquainted. 
Father.—Well, now multiply all the tones and semi- 
tones that each of these instruments are capable of 
giving, by the number ever invented, and what a vast 
amount will be the sum total. 
Now the facts which I have named, show an accu- 
mulation of numbers which set all computation at 
defiance, and show that the capacity with which the 
Creator has endowed the ear, borders upon infinity. 
Fred.—It is most wonderful that this variety of 
sounds is caused by the different vibrations of the 
air. 
Father.—Another important faculty of the ear is 
that it possesses the power or ability to determine the 
direction from which sound proceeds ; and also, in a 
good degree, to form a judgment of the distance from 
vhich it comes. This is of great practical importance 
in the every day affairs of life. It aids to escape dan- 
ger. It gives us the direction and the locality from 
which the cry for aid, as of a drowning man, comes. 278 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Emotions produced by sound. 
It informs the General as to the location of the can- 
nonading he may hear. It directs the herdsman, by 
the tinkling of the bell, to his flocks and herds. 
Sound has the power also, of controlling the feel 
ings or emotions of the mind, and thereby affords 
pleasure, or causes pain. 
" Music,” it is said," will tame the savage.” Wheth- 
er this be so or not, it is certain that it has a controlling 
influence over our feelings, inclining us to be lively 
or sad, grave or gay, according as it is melancholy or 
exhilarating. 
Another peculiarity of the sense of hearing is, that 
the emotions and feelings are expressed by the tones 
of the voice. We readily understand those which 
indicate kindness, pity, rage, sarcasm, or contempt, 
even if they are expressed in a language of which we 
are ignorant. This knowledge is common to man, 
and children, at an early age, learn to interpret it; 
even brutes seem to understand it. 
The tones of the voice not only have the power of 
conveying emotions, but also of awakening similar 
feelings in the mind of the hearer. A shout of victory 
from one part of an army sends a thrill througliouf 
the whole, and nerves every arm. A shriek of terro 
will convulse a whole assembly. Expressions of ange 
tend to beget the same in the person to whom thci 
are addressed, and those of affection give rise to sim 
ilar emotions. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
279 
Reflections. 
Thus you see, my children, in a limited degree, the 
inestimable blessing God has conferred upon us, by 
endowing us with the sense of hearing. Without it 
we should forever have remained ignorant of all that 
I have named, and all the knowledge possible to bo 
obtained by this sense. 
Frank.—We feel very thankful for the instruction 
you have given us, and hope we shall ever be grateful 
to our heavenly Father, that we have not, like thou- 
sands of our fellow beings, been deprived of this val- 
uable sense. 
Father.—We can never be too thankful, my chil- 
dren, for the perfect use of all the faculties of our 
bodies. And now, as a proper subject for reflection 
at the close of our present interview, let us recall the 
words of the inspired book,— 
" He that planted (made) the ear, shall he not hear?” 
"He that fermed the eye, shall he not see?” CONVERSATION XIX. 
THE SENSE OF SMELL. 
The nose the orgin of smell—Its structure—The olfactory 
nerves—The sense of smell, how produced—Objections to 
THE THEORY CONSIDERED THE SENSE OF SMELL A SOURCE OF PLEAS- 
URE—God’s goodness in providing it. 
The tongue the principal organ of taste—Capacities of the 
TONGUE—TnE TONGUE A DOUBLE ORGAN—THE THEORY OF TASTE 
—The use of taste—Perverted taste—The pleasures of 
taste—Injurious habits formed only by the use of narcot- 
ics—Goodness of the creator in providing the sense of 
TASTE. 
THE SENSE OF TASTE. 
Resides in the sensitive nerves—The value of the sense— 
The pleasures it is capable of affording—General remarks 
' UPON THE FIVE SPECIAL SENSES. 
THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 
Father.—I have given you, my children, at our two 
last conversations, a brief description of the sense of 
visioii or seeing, and the sense of hearing. At our 
present interview I shall speak of the three remaining 
senses—smell, taste and touch. 
THE SE1STSE OF SMELL. 
The organ of the sense of smell is the JSTose, and RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
281 
Organs and nerves of smell. 
the sense is located in the air-passages of the nose. 
The organ is formed of Bones, Fibrous Cartilage, and 
the integuments which cover them. It is divided into 
two compartments called the nasal cavities or nostrils, 
extending to the pharynx or back part of the mouth. 
The nostrils, like all internal cavities of the body, are 
lined with mucous membrane. 
The nerves, whose special office it is to produce the 
sense of smell, are called the olfactory nerves, and 
are spread upon the mucous membrane of the nose. 
The acuteness of the sense of smell depends upon the 
extent of the mucous membrane. In man it is con- 
siderable, but in animals which seek their prey by 
scent, the extent is far greater. 
Frank.—I comprehend what you have said, Father, 
but I do not understand how the sense of smell is 
produced. I think I know now very well, since you 
have explained it so clearly,—with respect to the sense 
of seeing and hearing,—the sense of seoing by a pic- 
ture of the object seen, being formed upon the retina, 
and hearing by vibrations of the air falling upon the 
drum of the ear. Now if you can explain as clearly 
with regard to the sense of smell I shall be glad. 
Father.—The sensation of smell is produced in the 
following manner. 
Extremely minute particles,—or what is called 
effluvia, arc given off by odorous bodies, and float in 
the air, and the air in passing through the nostrils in 282 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Theory of smell. 
the act of breathing, brings the odoriferous particles 
in contact with the olfactory nerves, and the impres- 
sion is conveyed to the brain and mind, and this causes 
the sense of smell. 
Fred.—O, Father, that explains it very clearly, 
and I know it is correct, for I recollect I have some- 
times been in your office when you were preparing 
medicines, and I could tell in a moment, by the dust 
or particles in the air, what kind it was. 
Father.—This is generally regarded as the correct 
theory of the function of smell. It is liable, however, 
to objections, as it is difficult to explain some facts 
upon this theory. 
Fred.—What objection can there be, Father? 
Father.—It is difficult to conceive how particles 
can escape from metals, and float in the air, and yet 
metals emit an odor by which different ones can be 
distinguished. A particle of musk no larger than a 
pea, will scent a large room for twenty years, and yet 
not diminish perceptibly in size or weight. A dog 
will trace the footsteps of his master through the 
crowded streets of a city where thousands of other 
feet have trod. The blood-hound will track its game 
for miles, guided only by the odor it leaves. Now it 
seems difficult to explain these facts upon the theory 
I have named. Still, I have no doubt that it is cor- 
rect, and we are justified in receiving it, although it 
may imperfectly account for some things, doubtless 
on account of our limited knowledge. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
283 
Use of the sense of smell. 
The sense of smell aids us in selecting food, for, as 
a general rule, food that is healthful has an agreeable 
odor, while articles which are deleterious to health 
have an unpleasant one. , 
In this we see the wisdom and goodness displayed 
in placing the organ of smell directly over the mouth. 
For when we have doubts as to the quality of food, 
we smell it first, and if that does not satisfy our doubts, 
we then taste it. 
Some odors are pleasant, refreshing, and invigorat- 
ing, and for the time restore the exhausted nervous 
energy. On the contrary, others are offensive, de- 
press the spirits, and tend to gloom and dejection. 
I have spoken of the extreme acuteness of the sense 
of smell possessed by some of the inferior animals, 
in reference to the effluvia that emanates from living 
animals. To these, the sense of smell possesses a far 
greater degree of importance than to man, for by it 
hey become acquainted with the near approach, both 
-f their prey and their enemy. I have known a dog, 
stretched upon the floor apparently asleep, to startup 
nd commence barking, as a stranger approached the 
touse, and that too, long before his footsteps could be 
eard, and ere any of the inmates of the dwelling 
rere conscious of his presence. "It is related of 
ravellers in Africa, that they were always apprised 
f lions being in their vicinity during the night, by 
ic moans and tremblings of their horses.” ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Structure and capacity of the tongue. 
To man, the sense of smell is a source of great 
pleasure, although it might have been far otherwise. 
The fragrance of ten thousand flowers of the garden 
and the field, which load the air with their sweetness, 
and regale, with exquisite pleasure, the sense of smell, 
might have been to that sense, like the fumes of brim- 
stone or the stench of decomposing animal bodies. 
Many other interesting facts might be stated in re- 
gard to this sense, but I must now leave the subject 
for the present, as I have promised to say something 
upon 
THE SE3STSB OF TASTE. 
The Tongue is the principal organ of taste. There 
are other parts which participate in the function, 
though less acutely,—as the lips, the internal surface 
of the cheeks, the palate, and the upper portions of 
the msophagus or gullet. The tongue is composed of 
muscular fibre, blood-vessels and nerves. 
The muscular fibres, which run in almost every 
possible direction, form the chief part or substance of 
the tongue. Hence it is capable of great versatility 
of motions, and can assume, with wonderful rapidity, 
a great variety of shapes. The tongue is abundantly 
supplied with blood-vessels, a large artery being dis- 
tributed upon each side of it. It is also furnisher 
with a great number of nerves, which are filaments; 
from the fifth, ninth, and twelfth pairs. The brand RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
285 
How taste is produced. 
m the fifth pair, called the Gus'-ta-to-ry Nerve, is 
•ead upon the upper surface of the tongue and is 
; nerve of taste. The branches of the ninth and 
elfth pairs, are those of motion and sensation. 
The tongue is a double organ. 
Fred.—Father, what do you mean by that? 
Father.—I mean that each side is perfectly distinct 
its function, from the other side. 
Fred.—How can that be known ? 
Father.—It is known by the effect of disease upon 
ic tongue. In paralysis, one side may be paralyzed 
hile the other remains perfect. 
Frank.—I wish to ask how the sense of taste is 
•oduced. Does the substance tasted come in contact 
ith the nerves of taste ? 
Father.—That is a very proper question, my son, 
id it is what I intended to explain. The nerves 
rminate on the surface of the tongue, in what is 
iled papillae or pimple, which are minute nipples, 
hey are very numerous, and are what produces the 
»ugh appearance of the tongue. The end of the 
erve is within this nipple, to which it forms acover- 
ag to protect it from injury. Liquids, penetrating 
liese papillae, come in contact with the end of the 
erves, and thereby produce the sense of taste. 
These papillae are not equally numerous on all parts 
' the tongue, being more abundant on the tip, the 
Iges, and the roots, while some portions of the in- 286 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Liquids only can be tasted. 
termediate surface are almost destitute of the sensati 
of taste. 
The sense of taste is produced only by liqui< 
There is no taste in dry food, so long as it remai 
dry. By mastication, the saliva is mixed with soj 
food, and in this condition it is brought in cont.r 
with the papillae, and this causes the sense of tast 
All substances, therefore, are tasteless which are i 
capable of being dissolved. 
Fred.—How can that be, Father? I have notice 
that some metals have a very strong taste. Can the 
be dissolved? 
Father.—Metals are insoluble in water, and tl 
fact that they impart the sense of taste, is explaine 
in this way :—There are certain salts that enter int 
the composition of the saliva, which are supposed t 
act upon metals, so as to produce an impression upo 
the nerves of taste. 
When the tongue becomes parched and dry, or wht 
covered with a thick coating, as in fevers, taste become 
imperfect, and- in some cases, is wholly suspcndec 
I was once, myself, in this condition, while sufferin 
with a severe fever, when food had no more taste thar 
sawdust. 
The sensation of taste is either pleasing or displcas 
ing, and when it is pleasant, we are inclined to swal 
low, and the sensation is incomplete without it. Who 
the sensation is unpleasant, we at once reject whatevc RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
287 
Object of taste. Perversion of taste. 
may cause it, and it requires a strong effort of the 
will to control this impulse, as in the case of taking 
a nauseous bitter or a pungent stimulant. 
Frank.—I know that is true, for I recollect when 
I was sick I found it almost impossible to swallow 
some of the medicines you gave me. 
Father.—One object of taste is to guide us in 
the selection of food, and to detect noxious articles 
which would injure the stomach and endanger life. 
And had not this sense been perverted and abused, 
it would doubtless be a correct guide in man, as it 
seems to be in inferior animals, in which the original 
design of taste is still answered. 
O 
Fred.—How has man perverted the sense of taste ? 
Father.—By the almost endless admixture of dif- 
ferent articles of food, and the use of stimulants and 
condiments. Also, by alcoholic liquors, and poi- 
sonous narcotics, especially tobacco, of which I shall 
say more at a future conversation. The sense of taste 
in children is usually acute, and they prefer the mildest 
kind of food. 
The pleasure derived from taste may be very agree- 
able, but it is strictly sensual, and contributes nothing 
to mental enjoyment or improvement, like that of 
hearing and seeing. 
The number and variety of sensations derived from 
taste are far greater than those obtained from smell. 
The epicure is capable of multiplying them almost 288 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Taste a source of pleasure. 
indefinitely. We can see also, by classifying our sen- 
sations of taste, that they are very numerous. We 
designate many kinds of fruits and medicines by the 
terms, sweet, bitter, stimulant, astringent, acid, etc., 
there being many different degrees of taste to each 
class. The sense of taste was given us not only as a 
miide in the selection of our food, but if it had not 
been abused, it would also be a guide to the quantity 
we should take at each meal. 
Fred.—How can taste be a guide as to the quantity 
of food? 
Father.—Did you never notice, my son, that the 
taste is far more acute at the commencement of a 
meal, when we are in need of food, than it is at the 
close, when the demand of the system for nourish- 
ment has been satisfied ? 
Fred.—Yes, Father, I am aware of that. 
Father.—Well, had our food always been plain and 
simple, such as nature requires, and had not taste be- 
come morbid and unnatural by being stimulated with 
rich, highly seasoned compounds, taste would be, to a 
certain extent at least, a guide in the quantity, as well 
as the quality of food. 
God designed the sense of taste to bo a source of 
physical pleasure. But of all the senses, or capacities 
of enjoyment bestowed upon us, none are so grossly 
perverted as that of taste. 
Frank.—How is it perverted, Father? RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
289 
Habits formed by using narcotics. 
Father.—By stimulating the appetite to excess with 
rich compounds of food, thereby inducing disease and 
premature death ;—also by creating an unnatural appe- 
tite by the use of narcotic poisons, such as tobacco, 
alcoholic liquors, etc. What can possibly be more 
olfensive and abhorrent to a pure, natural taste than 
the nauseous tobacco? And yet, strange to say, 
by use, it not only becomes endurable, but "is rolled 
as a sweet morsel under the tongue,” and about the 
mouth,—is regarded as exquisitely delicious, and 
millions become as much wedded to it as though life 
depended on its use, instead of being destroyed by it. 
Did the fact ever occur to you, my children, that 
articles, the use of which becomes a habit, are always 
narcotic poisons, and are never healthful beverage or 
food, demanded by the system for sustenance? 
Fred.—I never thought of it; is it so ? 
Father.—I think it is, my son. Millions, by indul- 
gence, not only create an appetite for tobacco, opium, 
and intoxicating liquors, but have a constant longing, 
and craving for them, which is only increased by in- 
dulgence. But who ever formed a habit of drinking 
cold water, so as to have a thirst and craving for it, 
only when, and in such quantity as the system de- 
mands? Or, who ever formed the habit of eating 
bread "from early morn to dewy eve,” and even dur- 
ing a part of the night, and carried a supply in tho 
pockets for the purpose ? 290 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
' Goodness in providing the sense of taste. 
Do you not think these facts show the most criminal 
perversion of this sense, bestowed upon us by our 
Creator for our safety and enjoyment? 
Fred.—I think so, Father. 
Father.—The pleasure we derive from the sense of 
taste is not accidental, neither is it a matter of necessi- 
ty,—it is wholly the result of God’s goodness, and 
benevolence. 
Mary.—Father, how can that be shown? 
Father.—The proofs are numerous. 
Mary.—Will you please name one ? 
Father.—It is a necessary condition of life that we 
eat food,—we cannot live without it. But it is noi 
necessary, so far as we know, that the eating of food 
should be attended with the exquisite pleasure that 
most persons enjoy. We might have been so consti- 
tuted that- our food would be like sawdust and 
gravel, or wormwood and gall to the taste, and yet 
we should be obliged to eat, or die of starvation. 
Have you ever thought of this, my children, while 
eating the delicious peach, pear or strawberry,—and 
while enjoying the pleasure that such fruits afford, 
have you raised your thoughts to God in gratitude 
for these his gifts ? 
The goodness of God is manifested also in provid- 
ing the great number and variety of articles suitable 
for food. The health and growth of our bodies re- 
quire the use of but a few of them, and during the RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
291 
Number of articles for food. 
.irst year of life we require but one, which is milk, 
md from this one are formed the bone, muscle, nerve, 
membrane, and all the parts that compose the body. 
Fred.—How many different articles of food are 
there ? 
Father.—The number suitable for food is estimated 
to be more than two thousand. Now if the health and 
vigor of our bodies require the use of but a few articles, 
what reason can be assigned why the Creator should 
provide such a vast number and variety, but his desire 
to please and gratify the taste he has given us ? 
Fred.—These things are worthy our serious 
thoughts, and should certainly lead us to love and 
adore the Author of all our blessings. 
Father.—That is true, my son, and there are other 
facts in regard to the sense of taste, of which I should 
like to speak, but have not time at present. I must 
now say a few words upon 
TELE SE3NTSE OE TOUCH. 
The sense of touch resides in the sensitive nerves. 
But, as in previous conversations, I have spoken of 
the principal facts relative to them, I shall now add 
but little to what I then said. The nerves of touch 
or feeling, as I have already said, are situated 
mostly upon the surface of the body, in the true skin. 
They are placed there, like so many sentinels, to give 
warning of impending danger, and to convey intelli- 
gence to the mind. 292 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The sense of touch—its value. 
The chief seat of the sense of touch, as I have be 
fore observed, is in the hand, particularly the ends of 
the fingers, which, for that purpose, are abundantly 
supplied with the nerves of sensation. All other 
parts of the body render us sensible or inform us of 
injury, but they cannot furnish us with definite knowl- 
edge of things external. But the hand conveys to us 
exact knowledge of the qualities of every thing we 
touch. I mean such qualities as can be known by 
touch, as heat, cold, rough, smooth, hard, soft, etc. 
By the hand we also obtain a knowledge of the exten- 
sion, form, and size of bodies. 
There are a variety of pleasurable, and also painful 
sensations given us by this sense. The sensations 
produced by electricity and galvanism, hunger and 
thirst, have been ascribed to it. 
This sense is certainly one of the most important 
given us by our Creator. We can live without seeing 
or hearing, but how long should we live were we in- 
capable of feeling things that come in contact with 
our bodies, in the varied occupations of life? 
Many have been born destitute of the sense of see- 
ing and hearing. But of the estimate placed by the 
Creator upon the importance of the sense of touch, 
we may infer from the fact, that record furnishes no 
instance in which a human being has been born with- 
out it. 
This, like all the other senses, was designed by our RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
293 
Value of the sense of touch. 
Creator to be, not only a safeguard to our bodies, and 
means of obtaining knowledge, but also a source 
f pleasure and physical enjoyment. 
But had our Creator been a malignant, instead of a 
jenignant being, he might have so formed us that the 
jense of touch would have been a source of constant 
annoyance and pain. Everything we touch might 
have produced a sensation like the irritation of a nettle 
jr the sting of a wasp. The gentle zephyr that now 
fans the brow and reddens the cheek with the glow of 
health, might have been like the burning simoom to 
scorch, suffocate and destroy us. 
This sense may be rendered morbidly acute by in- 
flammatory disease, and it may be totally lost by the 
disease called paralysis. But unless affected by dis- 
ease, it maintains its integrity, with varying degrees 
of acuteness, to the very close of life, when this, with 
all the other faculties, will be lost in death. 
I have nowr, my children, presented to you, the 
principal facts in regard to the five senses with which 
God has endowed us. We must now bring to a close 
this lengthy conversation. But before we part, I wish 
to recall to your attention one thing to which I briefly 
referred in a previous conversation when speaking of 
the nerves of the special sensations,—which is, that 
die nerves of each of the senses I have described, is 
specially adapted to its particular function, or office, 
and can perform no other. For example :—Light pro* 294 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Interesting facts. 
duces an effect upon the optic nerve, which gives us 
the sense of vision. But it can have no effect upoi 
the auditory nerve, or any of the other nerves o 
special sensation. Vibrations, conveyed to the audi- 
tory nerve, give the sense of hearing. But vibrations 
can produce no effect upon the optic nerve. 
Odorous particles coming in contact with the olfac- 
tory nerves, produce the sense of smell. But they 
can produce no effect upon other organs of sense,— 
and so of all the special senses. What is perfectly 
adapted to produce each particular sense, can have no 
effect upon either of the other senses. 
Frank.—Father, do you mean that the nerves of 
the different senses arc incapable of any other sensa- 
tion than the special one for which they were de- 
signed. 
Father.—I do. 
Frank.—How then does a strong light thrown sud- 
denly upon the retina of the eye,—as when we look 
upon the sun,—cause pain in the eye? And how is 
it that a loud noise, as the discharge of a cannon, 
causes pain in the ear ? 
Father.—These pains are produced by the sensitive 
nerves distributed upon the parts, and not by the 
nerves of special sense. 
Frank.—I understand it now, Father, and I car 
only exclaim,—it is wonderful! 
Father.—To me, the special senses are among the RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
295 
Inestimable value of the senses. 
nost wonderful topics we can contemplate in the 
fracture and endowments of our bodies. And nothing 
can show design more clearly. God saw that each of 
the senses was necessary, and by a special act of 
creative power, if I may so speak, formed each of 
these organs upon a principle, and endowed it with 
power totally different from either of the others. And 
the goodness of God in providing us with these 
senses, can never be fully appreciated until we are 
deprived of them.. 
What mines of wealth would not the blind gi ve to 
regain their sight,—or the deaf to recover their hear- 
ing ! And yet how little we think of God’s goodness 
in giving us these, while we possess and enjoy them 
perfectly! 
Fred.—It is so, Father. And we feel very thank- 
ful for all the intelligence you have given us upon 
these interesting topics. I trust we shall be more 
than ever grateful to our heavenly Father for this ad- 
ditional proof of his goodness and benevolent design 
toward us. CONVERSATION XX. 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
PrOTECTION GIVEN TO THE BRAIN BY TnE FORM OF THE SKULL— 
Equality in length and size in different, but correspond 
ING PARTS OF THE BODY—SYMMETRY OF THE BODY PRESERVEI 
BY EQUAL GROWTH OF ALL PARTS TlIE FEET, THEIR FORM AN] 
P08ITI0N, THEIR ELASTICITY TlIE TOES THE HAND, ITS STRUCT- 
URE AND ENDOWMENTS No TWO PERSONS EXACTLY RESEMBLE EACH 
other—Sad results had perfect similarity existed—The 
RECUPERATIVE PRINCIPLE, OR VITAL FORCE, ITS IMPORTANCE. 
Father.—There arc many facts of interest, my 
children, with regard to the structure, formation and 
endowments of the different parts and organs of the 
human body, which I have not yet described, as I 
could not, with propriety, introduce them in the 
conversations on the special and definite subjects on 
which we have conversed. I propose at this time, 
briefly to consider those to which I refer. 
Fred.—I feel sure, Father, you will instruct and 
interest us, whatever subject you may choose. I am 
surprised at the variety of proof you have already 
given us of God’s goodness in the structure and en- 
dowments of our bodies! ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
297 
Protection given the brain. 
Father.—This subject is exhaustless, my son, should 
we descend to all the minute particulars, which, you 
•ecollect, I told you at the commencement, I should 
t do. 
The first I will name at the present time, is the 
wisdom displayed in the protection given to the deli- 
cate and important organ—the brain, by the oval form 
of the Cra'-ni-um (skull). 
It is well known that any hollow vessel of an oval 
or cylindrical form, will sustain without injury, a 
much heavier blow than a cube or square. A barrel, 
for example, will sustain a blow that would shiver to 
atoms a square box of the same material. In like 
manner the oval form of the skull protects from injury 
the vital organ it envelops—the brain, far more than 
it could were it of any other shape. 
Also, the bones of the skull composed of two plates, 
one above the other, with a porous partition between, 
give very powerful protection to the brain, the outer 
one being tough and fibrous, and the other dense and 
very hard. Thus the form and composition of the 
skull afford the most perfect protection to this vital 
organ, against any thing but the most unnatural 
violence. 
Fred.—I see it is so, Father. 
Father.—Did you ever think, my children, how 
wonderful it is, that there should be such perfect 
equality of length and size in the different, but cor- 
responding parts of the body ? 298 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Symmetry of form. The feet. 
To illustrate. Had the bones of the lower limb? 
been of unequal length, so that one would have 
been longer than the other, how sad would have bee1 
the result,—how dreadful the misfortune ! Inste 
of the present sprightly, graceful movements, 
should be obliged to hobble on crutches, or craw 
upon the ground. How wonderful, also, that in the 
growth of the body, the increase of every part should 
be equal, and thereby perfect symmetry preserved. 
Frank.—It is most astonishing ! 
TEEE FEET. 
Father.—There are also interesting facts with re- 
gard to the Feet, which, perhaps has never occurred 
to you. 
Frank.—I presume there are,—will you pu, 
describe them. 
Father.—I will name some of them, and the first 
on the form and position of the foot. 1st. The form 
of the foot. The under side, or what is called the 
sole, is an arch, the extremities of which are the 
heel and ball. The object or design of this, is clearly 
to give stability to the standing posture, by the weigh' 
of the body resting upon the two extremities of th 
arch. 
Frank.—I see that the form of the feet prevents 
falling backward or forward, but how does it with 
respect to a sideway position ? RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
299 
Facts about the feet. 
Father.—We are kept from falling sideways, or to 
the right or left, by the position of the feet,—that is, 
by the forward part of the feet standing out to the 
right and left, some fifteen or twenty degrees, in a 
bracing position, which is doubtless the best and most 
convenient that could be devised,—and any consider- 
able deviation from it, proves a source of great incon- 
venience, and is justly regarded as a serious de- 
formity. 
Let a person turn his feet in, so that each foot will 
point directly forward as he walks,—or out, so that 
they will point to the right and left,—and the instability 
that will thereby be produced, will enable him to 
appreciate and value the natural position in which the 
Creator has placed them. 
Another interesting peculiarity of the foot is its 
elasticity, by which I mean that the large ligament at 
the heel, called the heel-cord, connected with the 
powerful muscle in the calf of the leg, is endowed 
with such force and versatility of motion, that it moves 
the foot with the celerity of a steel spring, thereby 
producing that elasticity which contributes greatly to 
the ease of walking, and the elegance of all the other 
motions. 
The Toes, with their numerous joints and powerful 
muscular endowments, aid greatly the elasticity of the 
foot, and render walking a much easier and more ele- 
gant performance than it otherwise would be. 300 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Atmospheric pressure on the body. 
Another notable endowment is, that the heel and 
ball are so constituted and organized that the whole 
weight of the body, and with the laborer, often one 
or two hundred pounds additional weight, rests upon 
the few square inches comprised in them, and yet the 
feet may be in use every hour of the day without 
producing any painful sensations. 
On what other part of the body so small in extent, 
could so great a weight rest for several hours at a 
time, without causing extreme pain and soreness? 
And was it not goodness that prompted the Creator 
so to form the feet that they are capable of perform- 
ing their important office with such agility, and with 
the absencq of all unpleasant sensations ? 
Fred.—It was. But I confess with shame that I 
have been using my feet all my lifetime, without ever 
having thought of what you have referred to. 
Father.—Did you ever think, my children, of the 
atmospheric pressure that rests upon the human body ? 
Mary.—What is that, Father? 
Father.—It is the pressure of the air upon the sur- 
face of the body. 
Mary.—I did not know that there was any pressure 
of air upon the body. I never felt any, and I do not 
see how air can press much upon any thing, it is so 
thin and light. 
Frank.—Nor I either, Father. 1 never heard of RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
301 
Amount of pressure of the air. 
such a thing before; and certainly I never felt any 
pressure. 
Fred.—Such a thing never occurred to me, nor did 
I ever hear the subject named before. How much 
pressure is there, Father? 
Father.—The pressure of the air upon every square 
inch of the earth’s surface, and the surface of every 
thing upon it, is fifteen pounds, avoirdupois. Conse- 
quently, there is a pressure of fifteen pounds upon 
every square inch of the surface of our bodies;—and 
in a man of medium size, the number of square inches 
of surface is about twenty-five hundred, which, mul- 
tiplied by fifteen, gives the sum of thirty-seven thou- 
sand five hundred. The body of a man, then, bears a 
constant pressure of thirty-seven thousand five hun- 
dred pounds. 
Fred.—Why, Father ! How can that possibly be ? 
Why does it not crush our bodies to atoms ? I should 
not think it possible to live one minute with such a 
load upon us. 
Father.—The reaction of the air within the body, 
counter-balances the pressure without, and the Crea- 
tor has so endowed the system, that this pressure, 
instead of destroying, actually sustains life. Were 
it removed, we could not live a moment;—were the 
air taken from the surface of the body instantly, it 
would be rent into a thousand fragments, by the ex- 
pansion of the air within the system. 302 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Structure and endowment of the hand. 
Mary.—Why, Father, you frighten me ! 
Father.—You need feel no alarm, my child, sucl 
a thing will never take place,—and I have not namec 
this fact because there is any practical use to be made 
of it, but simply to show the wonderful endowments 
and adaptation of our bodies to the physical conditions 
of life,—that such an immense pressure can rest upon 
us every moment, and yet we never feel, nor have 
any consciousness of it. 
Frank.—Are there no means of proving anything 
upon this subject, excepting what you have named ? 
Father.—There is one fact worthy of note, which 
is this :—The air rises forty miles or mope, above the 
earth, and of course, decreases in weight and density, 
each mile. At an elevation of five miles, the atmos- 
pheric pressure is one-eighth less, the effects of which 
upon the body would be very disastrous, if not fatal. 
This has occurred in balloon ascensions. Persons at 
a great elevation, have swooned and become partially 
or wholly unconscious, with the blood starting from 
the nose and other parts of the body. 
I have previously said something in regard to 
the structure and endowment of the hand. I wish 
now to state some additional facts. The hand is 
a wonderful instrument, or rather set of instruments. 
An instrument generally is adapted to do but one 
thing, as a shovel, a saw, a hammer, etc. But 'how RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
303 
Capacity of the hand. 
numerous,—how almost infinite are the things the 
hand is capable of doing! 
Let us examine, with more care than we have yet 
done, the structure of the hand. It has four fingers 
and one thumb. The fingers are set beside each other 
on a straight line, and the thumb is on the opposite 
part of the hand, to match the fingers, thus forming 
a sort of forceps. This arrangement enables us to 
grasp and hold with equal ease and firmness, sub- 
stances varying in size from that of a goose-egg to 
that of a pebble,—and the sailor a rope of half an inch 
to two inches in diameter. Now were this changed, 
and the thumb placed on a line with the fingers, with 
nothing to match them on the opposite side, how al- 
most worthless the hand would be. Or had the finders 
O 
but two joints instead of three, how greatly would 
their capacity and usefulness be diminished. If you 
doubt this, to convince yourself you have only to 
attempt to grasp a substance, bending two joints only 
of the fingers. 
Fred.—I wish, Father, you would tell us more of 
what the hand is capable of doing. 
Father.—It is capable of doing every thing the 
mind designs ; but to enumerate all the hand can do 
or has done, is impossible. I might sum up in a few 
words by saying that every thing that has been done 
in this world, aside from divine agency, has been 
accomplished by the hands. 304 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
What the hands can do. 
To enumerate briefly a few things. The hands have 
felled and cleared the mighty forests, and turned the 
wilderness into fruitful fields. They have builded 
railroads and steam engines, cotton mills and steam- 
boats, navies and cities. They have erected the mas- 
sive structures of granite and marble, whose spires, 
towering heavenward, direct the mind to the omnip- 
otent One. 
The same which can do these mighty acts, can also 
execute the nicest mechanical and artistic works. 
The hand that wields the hammer and the sledge, may 
also be educated to use the writer’s pen and the artiste 
pencil. The Lord’s prayer has been written quite? 
legibly, on a surface the size of a dime. 
They likewise have made watches, perfect in every 
part, yet no larger than a diamond that glitters on a 
lady’s ring. It is almost useless to specify. To be 
able to appreciate, in any tolerable degree, the capacity 
of the hand, we should visit the World’s Fair now open 
in London, and witness the works there displayed, 
which, it would seem, almost rival the works of the 
Infinite. 
The hand may also express mental emotions and 
intentions. Thus, a gentle wave of the hand expresses 
respect, To point the finger expresses contempt. 
To clench violently indicates anger. Rapid and vio- 
lent movements show earnestness and firmness. By 
beckoning with the hand one can call a person as RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
305 
No two persons resemble each other. 
readily as by the use of the voice. To raise the hands 
indicates a feeling of wonder and surprise. To spread 
forth the hands is an expression of devout supplica- 
tion. To extend the hand on meeting a person, ex- 
presses cordial friendship. A parent indicates his 
desire by pointing to the task he wishes his child to 
perform,—and in numerous other ways the hand may 
express what the mind feels and intends. 
Frank.—I never realized all this till now. 
Father.—Another subject of great interest to which 
I wish you to give attention, is that no two persons 
perfectly resemble each other. 
Mary.—Can that be so ? 
Father.—Of the one thousand millions who inhabit 
the earth, no two can be found who are precisely, and 
in all respects alike. There is often a very strong 
resemblance it is true, especially in twins, yet a care- 
ful scrutiny will show that there are shades of differ- 
ence, even where the greatest likeness exists. 
Mary.—Father, I am surprised at your assertion! 
Father.—I think it true, my child. Did you ever 
see two persons whose appearance was so similar that 
you could discover no difference, either in the color 
(if the hair, eyes, countenance, or in their form and 
size, the sound of the voice, or in any other partic- 
ular ? 
Mary.—I am not sure that I ever did. But I have 306 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Results of personal resemblance. 
seen twins who were so much- alike that I could not 
readily distinguish them. 
Father.—That may be,—the same thing has come 
under my observation, still, a difference existed which 
could be discovered by careful scrutiny. 
Frank,.—Well, Father, what if it be so? What 
particular importance do you attach to this ? I do not 
see that it is of any great consequence, if there be 
likeness enough to show that they are all human. Is 
there any particular design in it ? 
Father.—I think so, and it seems strange you do 
not. 
Mary.—I am as much at a loss to discover the good- 
ness in this as Frank is. 
Father.—I think, my children, you have not thought 
very deeply upon this subject, for if you had you 
would have seen, in some degree at least, the kind 
design of the Creator, which, to me, is very apparent. 
Mary.—Please tell us what it is. 
Father.—I will endeavor to illustrate. Let us sup- 
pose many individuals bear so perfect a resemblance 
to each other that no difference could bo detected. 
Under these circumstances, you, your mother and 
myself go into a promiscuous assembly, and I lose 
sight of you, and in my search I see a girl so very 
like you that I am sure it is you. I also find a lady 
who so exactly resembles your mother that I decide 
she is your mother, and so take you both under my RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
307 
Results of personal resemblance. 
protection. In the mean time the gentleman whose 
wife I have taken, discovers yonr mother whom he 
mistakes for his wife,—the father of the girl also, sees 
you and believes you to be his daughter. 
Mary.—I see that such might be the case. 
Father.—If the similarity of appearance I have 
supposed, existed, communities would be in a state of 
constant turmoil and strife. Husbands would lose 
their wives, and wives their husbands, and claim others 
in their stead,—parents their children and children 
their parents, brothers their sisters, and sisters their 
brothers, and no relatives or friends could ever know 
when they had found their own. 
In business relations, the creditor could not identify 
the debtor, nor the debtor the creditor. In legal 
processes, evidence in courts of justice would be 
worthless, and if allowed in criminal cases, might 
condemn the innocent to death, and clear the murderer 
from deserved punishment. In short, such would 
unsettle the foundations of society, and fill the world 
with anarchy and confusion. 
Frank.—I now see there is a wise and good design 
in the dissimilarity observable in the human species, 
for which deep gratitude is due the Creator. 
Father.—From the facts cited, we discover the ex- 
treme perfection of God’s works, as well as his wisdom 
and goodness. That he has formed so many millions 
of beings, bearing so strong resemblance that they 308 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The vital principle. 
arc never mistaken for another species, and yet no 
two can be found who are perfectly alike, is most as- 
tonishing, the consideration of which may well fill tho 
mind with thankfulness and reverence. 
Mary.—I think so too, Father. 
Father.—During these conversations I have spoken 
on the endowments of many organs and members of 
the body. I now wish to call attention to a capacity 
or power bestowed upon us by our Creator, totally 
different from any thing I have yet named,—which is 
not limited to any one, or any number of organs, but 
pervades alike every part and fibre of the body. I 
refer to the recuperative force, or the self-healing, vital 
principle. 
Fred.—What is that, Father? 
Father.—It is the principle by which injuries of 
the body are repaired, and diseases cured,—such as 
cuts, bruises, burns, broken bones, dislocated joints, 
fevers, rheumatisms, etc. 
Fred.—I thought the cure of these was the business 
of the surgeon and physician. 
Father.—The surgeon may dress a wound, set a 
broken bone, and reduce'a laxation,—and the physi- 
cian may administer appropriate medicines for disease, 
but all this is not curing the patient, it is only aiding 
this recuperative principle. 
Fred.—What is this principle? RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
309 
The vital principle. 
Father.—I do not know, my son. What it is, has 
never been defined, for, like its Author, it is incom- 
prehensible and undefinable. What it does is all we 
can know of it. In case of a flesh wound, as a cut 
or a bruise, this vital principle, by its mysterious 
operations, fills up the wound with new flesh, and 
restores the part to soundness. In case of a broken 
bone, it throws out a substance which unites and 
firmly cements the two parts, and restores the bone 
to its original strength,—but how it effects these ob- 
jects no one knows.’ 
In severe diseases, the physician sometimes admin- 
isters every medicine his skill and judgment dictate, 
but the disease is not subdued, and the patient is 
finally given up to die. 
In this condition, when the scales of life and death 
seemed to hang at equipoise, and vibrate with awful 
uncertainty, then this recuperative force—this vital 
power, seized the fell monster, disease, thrust him 
from the citadel of life, and health preponderates in 
the scale. 
Frank.—Can the physician do nothing in the cure 
of disease, independent of this vital force? 
Father.—Nothing. 
Frank.—Is it this power alone that cures disease 
and heals wounds ? 
Father.—It is, my son. 
Frank.—What benefit then arc physicians? 310 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Vital force and vital action. 
Father.—To answer your question fully, would be 
to explain the principles of medical science, which 1 
have not proposed to do. I will, however, state a 
few things which may interest you. Every fibre of 
the body, during each moment of life, is pervaded by, 
and is under the influence of this vital force, producing 
what is called vital action. 
Frank.—What is vital action? 
Father.—It is the operations which sustain the 
body in a healthy condition, as the action of the nu- 
# # • 
tritivo vessels, the absorbents, the secretory organs, 
the excretory ducts, the capillaries, etc. 
I do not mean to say that these are the vital force, 
—they are simply the effect or result of it. The ces- 
sation or derangement of any of these vital processes, 
soon prostrates the health, and, if long continued, 
destroys life. 
The integrity of these vital processes which sustain 
life and health, depends upon the undimished force of 
the vital principle. This force, however, varies greatly 
in different persons, and in the same under different 
circumstances. When the vital force and action, from 
whatever cause, are diminished, it causes, or predis- 
poses to disease. But this vital force is capable, 
when diminished or partially exhausted, of being ex- 
cited to increased action by numerous agents called 
medicine. 
Now the skill of the physician, and his ability to RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
311 
Medicine can act only on living bodies. 
benefit the sick, depend upon his knowledge and use 
of such agents and processes as will control this f ital 
action,—stimulate it when too low or too weak, and 
modify and control it when unequal and deranged. 
Mary.—I am surprised, Father, at your statement 
as to the effect of medicine. I supposed it had the 
power of itself, to act upon the system, independent 
of every thing else. 
Father.—That is a very common, but very great 
error, my daughter. Were not medicines dependent 
for their action upon this vital force, they would as 
readily act upon a dead as a living person. 
We must now close our present interview, and with 
it I shall conclude my description of the structure and 
functions of the human body. 
I had intended to speak of other parts, as the face, 
the organs and faculty of speech, etc., but I must 
defer a further description to some future period, as 
I have already transcended my original intention. 
Children.—We regret, Father, to hear you say that 
this is to be our last conversation, for we have been 
highly delighted and greatly instructed, and we feel 
truly grateful to you. 
Father.—I do not say, that this is to be our last 
conversation, for I have more to impart, but what I 
shall further say will not be a description of the organs 
and functions of the body, although I trust it will not 
be less interesting and instructive than what has been 
said. CONVERSATION XXI. 
THE SOUL.* 
Man a compound being, consisting op body and soul—The soul 
OR SPIRIT INFINITELY SUPERIOR TO THE BODY ALL POWER RE- 
SIDES in spirit—Proofs of the existence of the soul or 
spirit—Our knowledge of spirit as positive as that of 
matter—The capacities of the soul—Its infinite value. 
Father.—The previous conversations have been 
devoted to a consideration of man’s physical system. 
I have briefly described the structure, functions, and 
endowments of the principal parts and organs of the 
body, and have enumerated some of the many proofs 
of God’s benevolent design in its structure. 
I now wish to direct your attention to the weighty 
fact, that man is a compound being, consisting of the 
body which I have described, and a soul or spirit, 
which is an immaterial and immortal principle, and 
is the seat of the different affections and passions, 
such as love, hatred, anger, etc. 
We have seen that the body is a most wonderful 
* The author does not claim entire originality of thought for some portions 
of the present conversation. For the sentiment that the manifestation of the 
properties of spirit, is proof of its existence, credit is due the author of “ A 
tasior’s Sketches.” ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
313 
Spirit alone possesses power. 
nece of mechanism, every part of which proclaims 
ts divine origin. But with all its perfections it is the 
owest and most inferior part of man. The spirit or 
soul as far surpasses the body, as the splendors of the 
noon-day sun exceed midnight darkness, or as the 
infinite excels the finite. 
Frank.—Why is the soul superior to the body ? 
Father.—Because the body is composed of matter, 
one of the properties of which is inactivity or inertia. 
Mary.—What is inertia? 
Father.—It is the inability of matter when at rest 
to put itself in motion, or when in motion to assume 
a state of rest. Our bodies, therefore, are as inca- 
pable of motion as a stone or a clod of earth. 
Mary.—It seems to me, Father, that your state- 
ments do not agree. Did you not tell us when speak- 
ing of the muscles, that they possess great power, 
and produce all the movements of the body ? 
Father.—I did, but I told you also that the volun- 
tary muscles had no power of motion independent of 
the mind, and that all their movements were under 
the control of the will ? 
Fred.—If the muscles do not possess the power 
that moves the body, where does it reside ? 
Father.—In spirit or mind. The power that moves 
a muscle does not reside in the muscle itself. The 
muscle is only an instrument, which must be put in 
motion by a power outside of, and distinct from itself, 314 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Spirit controls matter. 
and that power resides in spirit not in matter. Oui 
bodies are totally incapable of motion, and are utterly 
destitute of power, independent of the spirit. Indeed, 
all power in the universe resides in spirit or mind. 
Fred.—Why, Father ! Is it really true, that there 
is no power except in mind or spirit ? I recollect that 
much is said in my Natural Philosophy, in regard to 
the mechanical powers,—the lever, the screw, the 
wedge, the pulley and some others. Now what do you 
say to these ? 
Father.—I say they possess no power whatever, 
independent of mind. Did you ever see them do 
any thing alone ? They can do nothing because they 
have no mind or spirit. It was the mind that con- 
trived these mechanical powers, but it could not invest 
them with the ability to work alone. The mind em- 
ploys them to do what it could not accomplish without. 
Not only all power, but as a result, all motion resides 
in spirit. With my mind, or spirit, I move, as I 
please, the matter of which my body is composed. 
God, the Infinite Spirit, moves as he pleases, the 
universe of matter. But how my spirit moves my 
body,—or how the Infinite Spirit moves the millions 
of worlds that compose the universe, is a profound 
and inscrutable mystery. 
Fred.—Can this bo so, Father? 
Father.—It is so, my son. This body, with all its 
endowments, is only a wonderful instrument made RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
315 
Spirit’s power illustrated. 
for the mind to work with. It is the mind that builds 
houses, and ships,—that cultivates the soil, and navi- 
gates the ocean,—using the body as an instrument, 
with which to accomplish these objects. Again, the 
body is dependent upon the mind for every thing, the 
mind acting the part of a guardian,—protecting it 
from harm and danger,—providing it with food in 
health, and medicine in sickness,—with house to shield 
it from the inclemency of the weather, and with cloth- 
ing and fire to keep it warm, thus prolonging the life, 
which, without this care, would soon come to a close. 
Frank.—Then all the power the body possesses 
belongs to the spirit, and all the labor it does is ac- 
complished by it. I wish you could tell us, Father, 
how the mind can exercise such control over the 
body? 
Father.—This, as I have before said, is one of the 
profound mysteries in the works of Deity. That it 
is so we know. My mind moves my body,—its man- 
date is instantly obeyed. But liow mind acts upon 
matter, none but the omniscient One can tell. It may, 
perhaps, be feebly illustrated by the locomotive steam 
engine. When we examine its massive iron shafts 
and wheels, and its bars of steel,—and see it in full 
motion, moving with great speed, a train of cars laden 
with hundreds of tons burden, we are amazed and 
exclaim,—what a powerful engine ! But does the 
power that produces sue h results, reside in the engine ? 316 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Illustration. 
Take away the steam, which, like spirit is invisible, 
and how soon its motions cease, and how powerless it 
is. And so it is with man’s physical frame, which, as 
Job says, is "fenced with bone and sinews,” and is 
furnished with powerful muscles. When God takes 
away the spirit, all power immediately ceases. 
Mary.—How can you say, Father, that steam is 
invisible, when we often see volumes of it rising from 
steam engines? 
Father.—My daughter, that to which you refer, is 
not steam, it is vapor, and is produced by steam 
coming in contact with atmospheric air, which con- 
denses it to vapor. Steam is no more visible than the 
air we breathe. 
Mary.—I understand it now, but I did not know 
before that steam was invisible. 
Fred.—I do not question the truth of what you 
have said, Father, but it seems strange to me, if such 
power resides in spirit, that we should know so little 
about it. Every body has knowledge of matter, but 
how little is known of spirit. 
Frank.—That is what I have been thinking, Father, 
as I have listened to what you have said to Frederick. 
If spirit possesses such power, and is so superior to 
the body, why is it that so little is known about it ? 
It is strange that what is so important should be so 
obscure. 
Mary.—I am of the same opinion. I should sup- RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
317 
Knowledge of spirit as positive as of matter. 
lose that God’s goodness would have prompted him 
co give us the most knowledge on what is most im- 
portant. But the reverse seems to be the case, for 
we know much more about matter, and have more 
certain knowledge of it, than of spirit. 
Father.—What do you mean, my child, by having 
more certain knowledge of matter than of mind or 
spirit ? 
Mary.—I mean we know for certainty that matter 
exists,—for we see it, and feel it,—we recognize it 
with all the senses, and therefore wo know that it does 
exist; but we have no such proof of the existence of 
spirit. 
Father.—My children, let us examine this subject 
with great care and candor, for it is one of great 
moment. 
You say we have no such proof of the existence of 
spirit or mind as we have of matter. I admit that 
we have not the same kind of evidence, but I think it 
not less positive. Indeed, the fact that we know any 
thing about matter, is proof of the existence of mind, 
for mind only has knowledge,—we ascertain truth 
with the spirit, not with the body ; and if we acquire 
any knowledge about the body, we are sure we must 
have a mind which possesses that knowledge. We 
can make no progress in the knowledge of matter, 
without at the same time advancing in the knowledge 
of mind. 318 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The five senses prove the existence of spirit. 
You say also, we are acquainted with matter by the 
special senses,—seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting ana 
smelling, but the senses give us no knowledge of the 
existence of spirit. Now I think the reverse is true. 
I believe the five senses prove the existence of spirit 
more fully than that of matter. 
Fred.—How so, Father? 
Father.—The senses cannot exist independent of 
spirit. We see, hear, feel, taste and smell with the 
mind. Therefore the senses prove mind more than 
matter. 
Fred.—I should be pleased to know what proof can 
be given that we see, hear, feel, taste and smell with 
the mind. 
Father.—If the communication between the brain, 
—the seat of the mind, and each organ of sense be 
cut off by ligating, (tying) the nerve, the sense is 
destroyed. No sensation of any kind can possibly be 
produced. As a result, we should be in total dark- 
ness—should be perfectly deaf—could feel neither fire 
nor frost—could not smell the sweetest perfumes, nor 
taste the richest viands. Now is not this positive 
proof of the existence of mind or soul ? 
Fred.—It certainly is, but I think I should never 
have discovered it. 
Father.—Another proof is, its action upon the 
body. A fright causes the blood to recede from the 
surface, and the countenance to turn pale. ' It also RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
319 
The spirit acts upon the body. 
effects the muscles, producing weakness and trembling 
of the whole system. 
The state or emotions of the mind in which we 
habitually indulge, fixes its impress clearly upon the 
countenance. Thus love gives a cheerful, happy ex- 
pression, which sparkles in the eyes, and plays in 
smiles upon the lips,—anger, a morose, surly, sour, 
sulky look, which darkens the brow and renders the 
expression of the face repulsive,—and so of all other 
emotions, as sympathy, sorrow, anxiety, pity, etc., 
each leaving its own peculiar impression, so clearly 
depicted upon the countenance, that it affords a sure 
index to the state of the mind which produces it. 
The business man, who suddenly perceives his affairs 
are so embarrassed as to threaten bankruptcy, may 
thereby be made to tremble like a leaf. But his mind 
alone effects his body. He has not been seized by 
the sheriff*, nor locked up in jail. No one, perhaps, 
but himself, has any knowledge of his affairs. Yet 
the certainty that he is a bankrupt, causes him to 
tremble and turn pale. A criminal, under a sense of 
his guilt, which is known only to himself, shakes like 
a reed in the wind. Yet nothing has touched his 
body,—the law has not yet laid its strong hand upon 
him,—lie is not thrust into a felon’s cell; yet the spirit 
shakes the body with wild convulsions. Now does 
not this demonstrate the truth of the inspired declar- 
ation, "There is a spirit in mail?” 320 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Wc know as much of spirit as of matter. 
In the last examples, the effect upon the body is 
purely mental. Neither of the bodily senses are af- 
fected ; it is reflection and consciousness alone that 
thus powerfully affects the material frame. Now when 
a mere thought deranges the circulation of the blood, 
shatters the nerves, and shakes the whole material 
system, and that too, without touching one of the 
bodily senses,—what must we think of such a power? 
Do we not know that it cannot be the effect of matter, 
and must be the action of spirit ? 
Fred.—I think so, Father; and yet I cannot rid 
myself of the impression that we have more certain 
knowledge of matter than of spirit. 
Father.—What do we know of matter that we do 
not of spirit ? 
Fred.—We cannot tell what spirit is. 
Frank.—And is it not the same with respect to 
matter? We know as much of the one as the other. 
You may again reply that wo can see and feci matter. 
But I have proved that it is the mind or spirit that 
sees and feels, and therefore, what you regard as pos- 
itive proof of the existence of matter, is equally 
positive with respect to the existence of spirit. 
Fred.—But did you not say when speaking of the 
nerves, that all the knowledge we have of the universe 
is obtained through the senses ? 
Father.—I did, and I repeat the same now. But 
as I have before stated, if we were destitute of mind EENDEEED ATTRACTIVE. 
321 
Matter and spirit known only by their properties. 
or spirit, we should be of the senses also. And as 
to the certainty of what is obtained by the senses, I 
wish to ask if you are more certain of what you see, 
than you are of the feeling of love, hatred, anger, 
etc. Is not the knowledge of the one as positive as 
that of the other, though obtained in a different way ? 
As to the extent of our knowledge it is greater about 
spirit than matter. 
Fred.—Will you please give us your reasons for 
such a belief? 
Father.—All we can know, either of matter or spirit, 
is their properties or qualities,—we know nothing of 
their essence. Now let us enumerate the known 
properties of each. Those of matter are weight, 
figure or form, color, hardness, impenetrability, divisi- 
bility, porosity, and inertia or inactivity. We know 
that spirit has the following properties or capacities, 
to wit:—It loves, hates, reasons, remembers, per- 
ceives, judges, compares, wills, fancies, has imagina- 
tion, consciousness, and is capable of suffering pain 
or enjoying pleasure. Thus you see we know much 
more about spirit than matter, as its properties are 
more numerous. 
Fred.—I shall never again indulge any doubts on 
this subject. 
Father.—The Mosaic history of the creation of man 
and animals, is full of interesting instruction, and 
throws much light upon this subject. According to 322 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Mosaic history of the creation. 
that history, God first created the inhabitants of the 
waters, then " cattle and creeping things and beasts o 
the earth.” But all these were irrational creatures,— 
they possessed no soul. They had not the power oi 
thought, reason and control. A superior being was 
still needed,—as is beautifully expressed by Dry den,— 
“ A creature of a more exalted kind, 
Was wanting yet, and then was Man designed, 
Conscious of thought, of more capacious breast, 
For empire formed, and fit to rule the rest. 
Whether with particles of heavenly fire 
The God of nature did his soul inspire, 
Or earth but new divided from the sky, 
Which still retained th’ ethereal energy.— 
Thus while the mute creation dowmvard bend 
Their sight, and to their earthly mother tend, 
Man looks aloft, and with erected eyes, 
Beholds Ins own hereditary skies.” 
The sacred historian, after a description of the for 
mation of the body of Adam, says, " and God breathec 
into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became i 
living soul.” Or as the original is,—•" the breath ol 
lives,” that is, animal and spiritual life. 
The body was.formed, perfect in every part, yet it 
had no life, for the reason that it had no spirit or soul. 
Not only Moses, but the Scriptures from beginning tc 
the end, speaks of man as a compound being,—the 
soul it calls the inner or hidden, and the body, the 
outer or visible man. 
The body grows and arrives at a state of maturity 
and perfection; its powers fully develop ; it then de- 
cays and dies. But the mind or soul may advance in 323 
RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
Capacities of mind unlimited. Endless progress of the soul. 
knowledge and virtue, until it vies with angels. In- 
deed, the capacities of the mind seem to be unlimited. 
The more knowledge it obtains, the better qualified it 
is for farther attainments. Persons in the pursuit of 
science never feel that their present acquirements, 
however great, disqualify them for still greater ad- 
vancement. And during the endless ages of eternity, 
the soul will be progressing in knowledge of the works 
of God,—nor will the time ever come when the limit 
of its capacity for improvement shall have been 
reached, but it will ever be approximating its Maker 
by greater, and still greater degrees of resemblance. 
Yet the soul will always be the finite, and God the 
infinite. 
Fred.—How can that be, Father? If the soul will 
be forever progressing in knowledge, and in resem- 
blance to the Creator, will not the time arrive in the 
remote ages of eternity, when the soul will, at least, 
have made a near approach to its Maker? 
Father.—Endless progress of the sold in knowledge 
and goodness, will, of course, increase its resemblance 
to the Creator. But the soul, in reference to God, 
will always be like one of those geometrical lines 
which may approach another forever without the pos- 
sibility of touching. The soul is not only capable of 
endless progress in knowledge, which is a purely 
mental quality,—but its moral qualities are not less 
wonderful. Although naturally impure, depraved, 324 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The soul capable of extreme depravity or purity. 
and vile, yet by the exercise of its own free agency, 
and the aid of the Holy Spirit, it may rise in the scale 
of moral excellence, to the perfection and purity of 
angelic natures. On the contrary, the soul, by yield- 
ing to its naturally depraved and corrupt propensities, 
is capable of sinking to a state of degradation and 
misery which is frightful to contemplate. 
Frank.—You surprise me, Father ! Our physical 
structure—the body, about which you have told us so 
many wonderful things, it seems, is of very little con- 
sequence compared with the soul. 
Father.—It is, my son. And you may be assured 
that the value of the soul can never be over-esti- 
mated. 
In previous conversations we have seen the exquisite 
workmanship, and extreme perfection evinced in the 
structure of these bodies which are soon to die and 
return to their original elements. Now if the struc- 
ture which is to continue but a few years, evinces such 
skill, what must we think of the perfection displayed 
in the creation of the soul, which is not only endowed 
with powers approximating infinity, but whose pro- 
gressive existence is to be coequal with Jehovah ! 
This endless durability of the soul may give us some 
idea of its value. In mechanics, we estimate the 
worth of things, in a great measure, by their durabil- 
ity. Thus, if a steam engine, which is usually worn 
out with eight or ten years service, had the capacity RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
325 
The soul survives the body. 
of enduring the wear of a thousand years* how greatly 
would its value be enhanced. So if the soul, with its 
untold, inconceivable, and ever .increasing capacities, 
is destined to an endless existence; what archangel 
tongue can proclaim its value ! 
Fred.—What proof have we, Father, that the soul 
will exist forever, or even that it will survive the dis- 
solution of the body? 
Father.—The proofs are various. The fact that tho 
soul is immaterial, and consequently indestructible, is 
regarded by Theologians as proof of its immortality. 
But the book of divine revelation—the Bible, contains 
the most direct and satisfactory proof. Numerous 
passages might be cited, but I shall quote but two, 
and these are of undoubted authority. Solomon, 
speaking of the death of the body, says, " Then shall 
the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit 
shall return unto God who gave it.” Christ says,— 
"Fear not them that kill the body but cannot kill tho 
soul.” What can be more direct proof that the soul 
lives after the body is dead ? 
We must now close this conversation, and in doing 
so I would ask, what can be of more thrilling in- 
terest to man than the theme upon which we have 
conversed. If the life we live in the body is but an 
embryo existence—an initiative state, which, at its 
dissolution, shall burst into the higher life of celestial 
beings,—the soul sustaining tho moral qualities and 326 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
Reflections. 
character obtained in this life ;—what solemn import- 
ance attaches to the present state of existence ! 
May we arise from the consideration of this subject, 
with a high and fixed purpose that our lives in future 
shall be exalted to a conformity with the divine pur- 
pose in giving* us this earthly existence, and, with its 
due improvement, a prospective existence of unend- 
ing felicity. CONVERSATION XXII. 
LAW. 
All things under the control of law—Law defined—Health 
SECURED BY OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS OF LIFE—DISEASE THE RE- 
SULT OF VIOLATED LAW HEALTH AND DISEASE DEFINED THE 
PHYSICAL, MENTAL AND MORAL EFFECTS OF DISEASE ALL SUFFER- 
ING THE RESULT OF VIOLATED LAW. 
Father.—My dear children, I have given you a 
brief description of man’s physical structure, and have 
presented some of the proofs that he possesses an 
immaterial and immortal part, called the spirit or soul, 
between which and the body there exists a most inti- 
mate, though mysterious union, by which they are 
capable of acting and reacting most powerfully upon 
each other. And although I think I have redeemed 
the promise I gave you at the commencement, yet I 
feel that my instructions would be very imperfect 
should I stop here. 
Fred.—We shall be glad, Father, to hear anything 
further you may have to say, for I am sure we shall 
be both interested and instructed. 
Father.—A knowledge of the structure of the body, 328 
ANATOM! AND PHYSIOLOGY 
The preservation of health. 
and the functions of its numerous organs, is of thrill- 
ing interest to all thoughtful persons. But to under- 
stand the best means of preserving the health, is by 
far the most important knowledge we can possess, in 
relation to it. The former is purely scientific, making 
us acquainted with the wisdom, perfection and benev- 
olence of God,—the latter is not only scientific, but 
is of the highest practical importance. Have you 
duly considered, my children, the vast value of bodily 
health, and the means necessary to its preservation? 
Frank.—I think health is very desirable, for one 
feels very unhappy when suffering pain, and when 
confined with sickness. But what are we to do? If 
God sends sickness and pain, I should like to know 
how we can prevent it. Can we thwart his plans, and 
counteract his designs? Disease always has existed, 
and doubtless always will. 
Fred.—Is it not evident, Father, that God designed 
there should be pain and disease,—for people must 
die some time, and what should cause death were there 
no sickness? 
Father.—You think, then, that sickness, pain and 
death take place because God wills it should be so 
that when a man dies, it is because God says, in ref- 
erence to him, "That man has lived long enough, and 
now I will kill him,” and so sends disease, which, in 
a few weeks or months terminates his life, or else He 
cuts him down at a blow with paralysis or apoplexy. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
329 
False sentiments about health. 
Fred.—I suppose it must be so,—we often hear it 
said it is a great mystery why God should take away 
those whose lives arc so important, as parents from 
dependent children, ministers from their people, 
children from aged parents upon whom they depend 
for support. And I recollect, too, that the minister 
said, at the funeral I attended a few days since,—that 
it was a mystery which we could not now comprehend, 
why a man so useful in the community, and so much 
needed in his family, should be so suddenly taken 
away,—■” But,” he added, " God has done it, and we 
must be reconciled.” 
Father.—Were we to credit what is often asserted, 
we should believe that health and sickness are mere 
things of accident,—that one possesses good health, 
and another is feeble and diseased because it happens 
to be so, or the one chances to have a better constitu- 
tion than the other; or else it is so for the reason that 
God, in his infinite wisdom, saw it was best it should 
be so, and in the operation of his mysterious provi- 
dence, so decreed it. But is not such a sentiment 
" charging God foolishly ? ” 
Can we suppose God has created this wonderful 
structure, in which we trace such marked proofs of 
wisdom and goodness, to be the mere sport of chance, 
—sometimes sick, at other times in health,—some 
persons with firm, others with feeble constitutions, 
without any appreciable cause? We will not de- 330 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Law defined.—Statute law, moral law, physical law. 
grade ourselves, nor dishonor our adorable Creator 
with such a sentiment! 
Fred.—We should be glad, Father, to know the 
truth upon this subject. Will you please instruct us. 
Father.—I will state a few facts. Every thing God 
has made, animate and inanimate, matter and mind, 
is under the control of law. 
Mary.—What do you mean by law? I thought 
law is what we find printed in books, made by legis- 
lators to control the action of communities. 
Father.—Law is a term of broad significance, and 
is applicable to a great many subjects, and takes its 
name in accordance with the nature of the subject to 
which it is applied. 
Statute law, is the term applied to what you have 
described, and is, as you say, designed to control 
communities, and has, like all law prescribed to ra- 
tional creatures, penalties annexed to its violations. 
Moral law, is that which prescribes to men their 
religious and social duties, that is, their duties to God 
and to each other. 
Physical law, or law of Mature, is that which con- 
trols all matter and motion, whether it be the rushing 
cataract, or the fall of the gentle shower, or the more 
gentle dew,—the fearful tornado or the gentle zephyr, 
—the sweeping of worlds through infinite space, or 
the floating of sunbeams, rendered visible only by the 
sun’s rays. Even the forked lightning, which seems RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
331 
Laws of vegetation. Laws of animal nature, or laws of life. 
to dart at random athwart the skies, is under the con- 
trol of law. 
Laws of vegetation, " are the principles by which 
plants are produced, and their growth carried on till 
they arrive to perfection.” 
Then there are Municipal laws, laws of Nations, 
the Mosaic law, laws of Gravitation and Cohesion, 
etc. But those to which I wish to call your special 
attention, and which particularly belong to our sub- 
ject, are called the laios of animal nature, or the laivs 
of life. 
Mary.—What are they, Father ? 
Father. —They are the principles by which the 
functions of animal bodies are performed, such as 
respiration, the circulation of the blood, digestion, 
nutrition, the various secretions, — in short, they are 
those which control the action or function of every 
part, organ and fibre, of the entire body. 
It is a principle, as already stated, established hy 
the Creator for the protection of life and health, the 
knowledge and observance of which secures health, 
and the violation produces disease. What the observ- 
ance, and what the violation of the laws of life and 
health are, I shall explain in future conversations. 
Here, my children, is a solution of the problem 
why one person is sickly and another healthy,—why 
one droops and dies in early life, and another lives in 
the possession of firm health to a good old age. It 332 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Old age the natural death of man. 
is chiefly because one obeys the laws of health, and 
the other violates them. One allows the wheels of 
life to run on smoothly, without friction or wearing, 
the other applies corrosives, by which the machinery 
is suddenly stopped, or is soon worn out. 
Fred.—Do you mean to say, Father, that we should 
always enjoy health, and should live to old age, if wo 
carefully observed, and never violated the laws of life 
and health? 
Father.—I have no doubt that such would be the 
case, carnalities excepted, provided we were born free 
from the taint of disease, or hereditary predisposition 
to it. k Old age is the only natural death of man;— 
when life closes by self limitation, or by the exhaus- 
tion of the natural and vital forces. 
Frank.—Why, Father, you surprise me! Is the 
death of so many millions of infants and children, of 
youths and of the middle aged, the result of the vio- 
lation of the laws of life ? 
Father.—I believe it is, with the exceptions I have 
made. 
Fred.—This is a startling announcement, Father I 
Father.—I think it true, nevertheless. 
Fred.—And you think every one would live to old 
age, were they to obey the laws of health? 
Father.—I do, if, as I have already said, all were 
born free from the taint of disease. But in man’s 
present deranged and depraved physical condition, I RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
333 
Disease and pain the result of violated law. 
believe it impossible for all to obey the laws of health. 
Indeed, no small portion of mankind came into the 
world with the seeds of disease deeply sown in their 
constitution,—such as scrofula, consumption, etc., 
which soon germinate and produce premature death. 
But in such cases, disease and death are the result of 
violated law, as much as in any other case; not of 
the sufferer, it is true, but of his ancestors; conse- 
quently, no obedience to law that he can render, can 
avert the penalty, for it cannot reach back to the orig- 
inal cause. But deducting all such cases, there still 
remain vast numbers who die annually, whose death 
is as absolutely the result of violated law, as if it were 
produced by severing the jugular vein, or thrusting a 
sword through the heart. For, let it ever be remem- 
bered, it is an utter impossibility to violate any of the 
laws that God has established, without sooner or later 
suffering the penalty. 
The early history of the human race, furnishes a 
fact which I think goes far to sustain the views I have 
expressed,—a fact, which, perhaps you have never 
seriously considered. 
Fred.—What is it, Father? 
Father.—It is the following:—According to the 
Mosaic history of generations which lived before the 
flood, (See Genesis, chapter 5th), children did not 
die before their parents, as is so common in our time. 
It is expressly stated that fathers died and left their 334 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Cause of the longevity of the ancients. 
children, who arriving at manhood, became fathers, 
and in their turn passed from the stage of life, and 
left their children to follow them in like manner. 
Thus successive generations came upon the earth and 
passed away, parents leaving their children,—but in 
no instance do we read of children dying before their 
parents; whereas now, it is no uncommon thing for 
whole families of children to be swept away by death, 
and the parents left to mourn their sad bereavement. 
Then again, consider to what a vast age people lived 
in those early times ;—usually several hundred years. 
Frank.—How do you account for these facts, 
Father ? 
Father.—I know of but one way to account for 
them, which is, that man came from the hands of his 
Maker with a pure and perfect body, free from all 
taint of disease, and endowed with a degree of vital 
force which carried the wheels of life smoothly on for 
nearly a thousand years. I know of no reason to 
believe that scrofula, fever, rheumatism, consumption, 
gout, neuralgia, dyspepsia, fits, cancer, apoplexy, 
palsy, cholera, and the numerous less prominent dis- 
eases were known in those early times. These, and 
man’s present degenerate physical condition, are the 
result of violated physical law. 
Mary.—I hope, Father, you will teach us how to 
observe the laws of life, and give us instruction as to 
the best means of preserving our health. RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
335 
Health and disease defined. 
Father.—I intend to do so. But I wish first to 
state a few facts to impress upon your minds the in- 
estimable value of health. In doing so I shall endeav- 
or to point out some of the effects of disease, upon 
our happiness, usefulness, and well-being, in a physi- 
cal, mental and moral or religious point of view. But 
that we may talk intelligibly upon this important sub- 
ject, let us first define the terms health and disease. 
Health is that state of a living animal body, in 
which the parts are well organized and sound, and in 
which they all perform freely their natural functions. 
In this state a person or animal feels no pain. 
Disease, in its primary sense, is pain, distress, 
uneasiness. But these are rather the effects of disease, 
than disease itself. 
Disease properly, means any deviation from health, 
in function or structure ; the cause of pain or distress ; 
it is that state of a living body in which the natural 
functions of the organs are interrupted or disturbed. 
A disease may effect the whole, ora particular part of 
the body, as a limb, the head, heart, stomach, lungs, 
liver, bowels, etc., and such are called local diseases. 
The first effect of disease, or this derangement of the 
vital functions, is uneasiness and pain, and the ulti- 
mate effect is total cessation of the functions, which 
is death. 
The physical effects of disease are numerous, some 
of the most prominent of which I will name. As I 336 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Physical effects ol disease. 
have said, pain is the first effect of disease.; and it is 
usually that which gives the first intimation of its ex- 
istence. And this is produced in various degrees of 
intensity, according to the nature of the disease. 
Some diseases, as rheumatism, neuralgia, colic, gout, 
etc., are attended with acute pain, usually of extreme 
severity, while many forms produce a dull, heavy 
ache, accompanied with nervous excitement, debility 
and languor. Persons are thus often deprived of all 
rest, by day and by night, for weeks and months and 
sometimes for years. Such can say with Job, " Weari- 
some nights are appointed to me. When I lie down, 
I say, when shall I arise and the night be gone? and 
,1 am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of 
the day.” 
Some diseases seem to be beyond the reach of rem- 
edial means, preying upon and wearing away its viotiin 
by slow degrees, until death terminates his sufferings. 
Again, some forms of disease produce incurable de- 
formity. Rheumatism and hip-disease, often draw 
the joints out of place, and so alter their form and 
size, that no surgeon can replace them. Spinal dis- 
ease, produces contortions of the spinal column, which 
usually remain for life. Palsy causes a cessation of 
sensation and of motion. In Locked-jaw, the mus- 
cles of the lower jaw become so contracted and hard, 
that the mouth cannot be opened, and in some cases 
it is difficult, if not impossible to pry it open. Also, RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
337 
Loss of time and treasure caused by disease. 
the muscles of the neck and back, and indeed, some- 
times of the whole body, are affected with violent 
spasms. 
Persons suffering with the diseases I have named, 
may in truth exclaim with the poet,— 
“ 0 life, thou art a galling load, 
A long, a rough, a weary road, 
To wretches such as I.” 
/ 
Disease not only causes pain and deformity, thereby 
disqualifying its victim for all the comforts of life, 
but it incapacitates for the duties of life. How can 
the farmer, in any one of the conditions I have cited, 
attend to his agricultural pursuits ? or the mechanic to 
his mechanical operations, or the merchant to his 
mercantile affairs, or how can the mariner navigate 
the ocean, and steer his bark over its rough and surging 
billows ? So far from being able to attend to the vari- 
ous and multiform duties of life, the invalid is himself, 
the subject of constant care and anxiety to his friends, 
who, by excessive watchings and fatigue, are often 
themselves, brought to a similar condition. 
Think, too, of the loss of time and treasure, caused 
by sickness. By a somewhat careful calculation, I 
have arrived at the conclusion, that, taking the pop- 
ulation of the world, and deducting one-half for in- 
fancy, childhood and old age, the loss of time occa- 
sioned by sickness, amounts in the aggregate, to not 
less than five hundred thousand years annually, or 338 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Sympathy between body and mind. 
nearly fourteen hundred years daily; which, at the 
usual value of labor, adding the expense of medical 
attendance and nursing, amounts to more than five 
hundred million dollars. 
Fred.—I am startled, Father, at your statements ! 
And is all the suffering you have described, and this 
enormous waste of time and treasure, the result of 
violating the laws of life and health ? 
Father.—It is, with the exceptions I have already 
made. And do you think God will hold that person 
guiltless, who, by violating the physical laws of his 
being, is contributing to this enormous sum of human 
wretchedness? I again assure you, my children, 
that God’s laws, whether physical or moral, cannot 
with impunity be violated or trilled with. And the 
penalty of violating the one is as sure as that of the 
other. 
But I cannot now dwell longer upon the physical 
effects of violating the laws of health, as I wish to say 
a few words relative to the effects of physical disease 
upon mental action. In other words, the effects of 
disease of the body upon the mind. 
It is a well established fact in physiology, that there 
is a strong and intimate connection and sympathy ex- 
isting between man’s physical and mental nature,—or 
between the body and mind, and that what affects the 
former either favorably or disastrously, will produce 
a like effect upon the latter. A powerful, vigorous, RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
339 
Effects of disease of body upon the mind. 
and well-balanced mind, exists only with a well-devel- 
oped and healthy body. The nerves are the medium 
through which the mind acts, and when they become 
debilitated and shattered by disease, their capacity for 
mental action is as much diminished as for physical. 
Here is a man, whose muscular and nervous systems 
have been greatly affected by long continued disease. 
His muscles are weak and trembling, his nerves ex- 
citable and sensitive. Now if he be a business man, 
can he, in this condition, lay deep and sagacious plans 
for business operations, or if laid, can he execute them 
with the energy necessary to a successful result? 
Another suffers with constant pain. If he be a 
man of literary pursuits, can he, while stung with pain, 
concentrate his mind upon literary subjects, or prose- 
cute his scientific investigations with any degree of 
success ? If a minister of the gospel, can he make 
due preparation for the duties of the pulpit ? or if a 
lecturer, can he prepare to interest and instruct the 
lyceum or the popular assembly ? 
As the mind is dependent on the body as a basis 
of action, it is not reasonable to suppose that the 
greatest mental vigor, is compatible with a weak, 
physical constitution. Hence we find mental imbe- 
cility coincident with physical deformity. 
In all ages of the world, the greatest and most last- 
ing good has been exerted by those through whose 
veins coursed the currents of life uncontaminated and 
unimpeded by disease. 340 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Effects of disease. 
Fred.—Do we not sometimes see persons of diseas- 
ed and deformed physical structures, possessed of 
vigorous intellects, and who accomplish much in the 
world ? 
Father.—We do. But these are exceptions to the 
rule, and prove nothing against our position. In such 
cases, we can but regret that such minds should be 
thus clogged ; and reflect upon what they might have_ 
accomplished, if connected with a sound healthy 
body. 
Another fact of importance, and the last I shall 
name on this point is, that millions of insane persons, 
who crowd Lunatic Asylums, are rendered such by 
physical disease. 
Frank.—How can it be known, Father, that disease 
is the cause of insanitv ? 
0 */ 
Father.—The proof is, that restoring the health of 
the body by medical treatment, often restores the 
mind to its natural condition. Several cases of par- 
tial, and one of total insanity, have come under my 
treatment; the latter—a lady, previous to my seeing 
her, had thrown herself into a river with the intention 
of self-destruction, but was discovered and rescued. 
In all these cases the mind was fully restored by a 
restoration of the bodily health. 
Fred.—From what you have said, it is very evident 
that disease of the body may affect the mind; but I 
cannot conceive how the state of the health can affect EENDEEED ATTRACTIVE. 
341 
The moral effects of disease. 
one’s moral or religious condition unfavorably. In- 
leed, I have heard it said that sickness is favorable to 
a religious state of mind, and often leads to it. And 
I recollect, too, of reading a book, a few years since, 
entitled " The pleasures of sickness.” 
Father.—I have no doubt that sickness sometimes 
calls the attention to religious things, and that to a 
devout person ” pleasure ” may come from sickness. 
Still, I think that reflection and observation will make 
it plain to you, that bodily disease may affect one un- 
favorably morally, as well as mentally. Have you 
never known persons naturally cheerful, and good- 
humored, become fretful and desponding when suffer- 
ing with certain forms of disease ? Such changes I 
witness almost daily in the practice of my profession. 
Persons of a devout, charitable, and meek spirit, 
under the depressing influence of disease that affects 
the nervous system, often become morose, sensorious 
and revengeful, unhappy themselves, and rendering 
all about them so. 
A lady of marked mental endowments, in conver- 
sation relative to a disease that affects the nervous 
system with great severity, once made to me the fol- 
lowing remark :—•" We cannot be very good Christians 
while suffering with this disease.” Although I could 
not fully endorse the sentiment, yet I was forcibly 
struck with the remark, knowing as I did, the 
extreme mental depression produced by the disease. 342 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Examples of the moral effects of disease. 
No small proportion of the gloom and melancholy 
observable in many professed Christians, owes it 
origin and existence, to a diseased and excitable 
nervous system. Such are ever writing bitter things 
against themselves, deploring their sinfulness and 
vileness, and with prayers and tears, are seeking t< 
conciliate the Divine favor, while at the same time 
they predict the Divine displeasure. This state of 
mind, produced by disease, sometimes leads to utter 
despair of God’s goodness and‘mercy, and to fcarfu1 
forebodings of the future. That such is the fact I 
have had abundant proof in my practice as a physician. 
Some years since I knew an elderly lady of un- 
doubted piety, and who was noted for her acts oJ 
charity, and was greatly beloved by her neighbors. 
This lady, while in good health, received an injury by 
being thrown from a carriage, which so affected the 
nervous system that she became gloomy and despond 
ing, and came to the conclusion that she was the most 
wicked person living, and that her wickedness had 
brought, or would bring, utter ruin upon both herself 
and family, and upon any who might become connecter 
with the family. For weeks and months, she would 
sit and bemoan her sinfulness which had brought such 
misery and ruin upon herself, and all connected whv 
her, and was detected in making arrangements to com- 
mit suicide. After remaining in this condition for 
about ten years, her health was restored, when her mind ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY. 
343 
All suffering the effect of violated law. 
became perfectly sane, and resumed its former cheer- 
ul and happy condition, and remained so until the 
day of her death. 
A few months since, a lady came under my treat- 
ment, who, though much diseased, was suffering more 
from distress of mind than pain of body. She was a 
lady of piety, but had had some slight trouble with a 
neighbor, which the morbid sensitiveness of her mind 
—rendered so by disease, had magnified into the "un- 
pardonable sin.” The moans and confessions of what 
she deemed the fatal and unpardonable act, were dis- 
tressing to hear. She is now restored to nearly her 
usual health, the recovery of which has entirely re- 
moved her despondency, gloom, and dreadful fore- 
bodings, and she is now cheerful and happy. 
Numerous similar cases might be adduced, all of 
which go to prove, that bodily disease may, and often 
does, have a most disastrous effect upon one’s moral or 
religious condition, and utterly disqualifies for the 
happiness and usefulness which is both the duty and 
the privilege of every Christian. But I have not time 
to dwell longer upon this subject. 
Fred.—If what you have said is true, Father, it 
seems that all the suffering endured in this world, both 
body and mind, is the result of violated law. 
jFather.—It is, my son; either in this world or any 
other. God never designed that man or any other 
creature he has made, should suffer pain or be unhappy. 344 
ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY 
Pain a kind admonition. 
Although as St. Paul says, " The whole creation groan- 
eth and travaileth in pain together,” yet no organ o 
part of the body of man or beast, has yet been dis- 
covered, whose office it is to cause pain. Pain is 
always a penalty or punishment for wrong doing. 
Where there is suffering there is sin, whether the suf- 
fering be physical or mental. No pain would ever 
have existed in the universe of God, had there been 
no infraction of the laws he has established. 
You may, therefore, ever regard the first thrill of 
pain as a kind admonition, assuring you that you are 
doing, or have done something wrong, which, if con- 
tinued, endangers health, life and happiness. 
Fred.—Then you believe there would have been no 
pain nor suffering in this world had there been no vio- 
lation of law. 
Father.—I do. Unalloyed pleasure would have 
been universal. 
Fred.—And would there have been no pain in the 
hour of death? 
Father.—We arc not sure there would have been 
any death, had there been no sin. But without enter 
ing a theological question, I would remark, that death 
is not necessarily painful. On the contrary, it is 
rather a cessation of sensation ;—I mean natural deatl 
Death caused by violating the laws of life, will 
necessity, be painful. 
If what has been stated be true, how enormous is RENDERED ATTRACTIVE. 
345 
The sinfulness of violating law. 
the guilt, and how fearful the penalty of violating the 
laws of our being. 
Mary.—It certainly is, Father. And I wish we 
knew more about these laws, so that we should not be 
so liable to violate them. 
Father.—At our next meeting I intend to commence 
to give you instruction as to the means of obeying the 
laws of life ;—in other words, the best means of pre- 
serving health and avoiding disease. 
We must now close this conversation, although I 
feel that I have but just introduced the various topics 
upon which we have spoken, to do justice to which 
would require a volume. CONVERSATION XXIII. 
HYGIENE,—THE PRESERVATION OP HEALTH. 
Nature’s materia medica, air, light, electricity, temperature, 
EXERCISE, REST, FOOD, SLEEP, BATHING, CLOTHING—SOME OF THESE 
BRIEFLY CONSIDERED—AlR, AN IMPORTANT AGENT—NECESSITY OF 
pure air—Impurity of air in large cities—Importance of 
VENTILATING DWELLINGS, CHURCHES, LECTURE ROOMS, ETC.—WlIY 
CITY AIR IS IMPURE—EFFECTS ON HEALTH OF CHANGE OF AIR— 
Exercise, why needed—Out-door exercise—Regular or daily 
EXERCISE REQUIRED—THREE KINDS OF EXERCISE—ITS IMPORTANCE 
TO FEMALES—CLASSES MOST BENEFITED BY IT—GYMNASTIC EXER- 
CISE—Rest, its importance. 
Father.—At our last conversation we briefly con- 
sidered the great value of health, and some of the sad 
effects of disease. We also defined the terms health 
and disease, and showed that the former is under the 
control of law which is inflexible and immutable—to 
obey which, secures health,—to violate it causes dis- 
ease. We have now met to consider how we can best 
make a practical use of these facts,—in other words, 
how we can secure health and avoid disease; which 
study or science, as I have previously told you, is 
called Hygiene. THE LAWS OF HEALTH. 
347 
Importance of pure air. 
The laws of health are violated in numerous ways, 
which I shall point out as we proceed. 
To sustain health the body requires Air, Light, 
Electricity, Temperature, Exercise, Best, Food, Sleep, 
Bathing, Clothing, etc. These are Nature’s Materia 
Medica, and I shall speak briefly upon most or all of 
them, begining with 
AIR. 
Few agents have so important an effect as air in 
promoting health or producing disease. 
Fred.—How so, Father? 
Father.—It is one of the principal means by which 
animal life is supported, and, as I told you when 
speaking of the functions of the lungs, it is that with- 
out which we can scarcely live a minute. 
In respiration a man inhales a gallon of air every 
minute, which, mingling with the blood, if impure, 
must contaminate the vital current. Impurities of the 
air, are also taken up by the absorbents of the skin—the 
lymphatics, and conveyed to the blood. In this way 
the blood becomes impure, and disease is the result. 
When the air is very impure, it proves suddenly fatal 
to life. 
It is obvious that many diseases proceed from viti- 
ated air, or an atmosphere charged with deleterious 
gases. Influenza, cholera, intermittent, remittent, 
and yellow fevers, so pestilential and fatal, are com- 
municated by an impure air. Villages, towns and 348 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Evils of impure air. 
cities, have been well-nigh depopulated, as a result of 
receiving impure air into the circulation through the 
medium of the lungs. But no air is so immediately 
fatal to life as that charged with the poisonous carbonic 
acid gas. And many an one has lost his life by hav- 
ing the air of his sleeping room filled with it by the 
burning of charcoal as a means of warming the room. 
Thus you see the danger arising from poorly venti- 
lated rooms containing crowded assemblies. If the 
vital portion of a gallon of air be used up each minute 
by one person, how long can the air remain pure in 
an unventilated room filled with people, as school and 
lecture rooms, churches, etc. ? 
Frank.—Not long, certainly. 
Father.—But using up the vital qualities of the air 
is not the only, nor the principal evil. You know 
with every breath, a quantity of carbonic acid is exhal- 
ed. Thus the air in close rooms not only loses the 
vital principle—the oxygen, which sustains life, but 
it is filled with a poisonous gas which destroys life. 
By this we see the importance to health, that the 
apartments of dwelling-houses should be well venti- 
lated, especially sleeping rooms. Persons sometimes' 
sleep in small rooms, with doors and windows closed, 
—and of course, before morning, the vital principle 
of the air is exhausted, and the poisonous carbon takes 
its place. Can we wonder that such awake from 
lethargic slumber with headache, listlessness and lan- MADE PLAIN. 
349 
guor? Now this is a plain violation of the laws of 
life and health. 
The air of large cities is usually impure. It is ren- 
dered so by being often breathed by a dense popula- 
tion, and stagnated by narrow streets and compact 
houses,—by exhalations from putrid substances, filthy 
streets, smoke, etc. 
Persons coming from the country to large cities, 
often become seriously affected by the foul, contami- 
nated air. But how much more seriously affected 
must be the health of those who reside in cities, and 
constantly breathe impure air. It need be no marvel, 
that we see, in large cities, so few fresh and healthy, 
and so many pale and sickly countenances. 
A change of air affects the health, in many cases, 
almost incredibly, by removing from the city to the 
country. The effect is greater on infants and children 
than adults,—thousands of whom die annually from 
the impure air of cities. By removing from the city 
to the country, many, laboring under the most serious 
diseases, have quickly recovered, and the whole sys- 
tem frequently undergoes a complete change. 
The air of great towns and cities is peculiarly un- 
favorable to consumptive persons, and those affected 
with nervous diseases. Pure air is absolutely neces- 
sary to the enjoyment of good health, and health be- 
comes poor in proportion as the air we breathe becomes 
impure. 
City air impure. 350 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Exercise. 
We live upon air more than upon food and drink. 
How necessary, therefore, that it should be pure. 
Upon this subject a sensible writer remarks,—"If 
fresh air be necessary for those in health, it is still 
more so for the sick, who often lose their lives for the 
want of it. No medicine is so beneficial to the sick 
as fresh air. It is the most reviving of all cordials, 
if it be administered with prudence. Fresh air is to 
be let into the chamber gradually, and, if possible, by 
opening the windows of some other apartment.” 
Much might be said upon the value of pure air, but 
as I must be brief, I cannot dwell longer upon this 
subject. 
Thus you see, my dear children, the pernicious, 
and often fatal effects of violating the laws of life in 
the use of impure air. 
Children.—We do, Father; and we believe all you 
have told us, and will try to profit by it. 
EXERCISE. 
Father.—Were we to obey all the other laws of our 
being, we could not enjoy good health, without strict 
attention to exercise. We are so constituted that it 
is as much a law of health, and its observance as much 
a necessity, as the use of food and drink. 
There is a physiological fact to which I called your 
attention when speaking of the circulation of the 
blood, which is positive proof, that when God made MADE PLAIN. 
351 
Reason why exercise is needed. 
the human body, he intended it should perform a cer- 
tain amount of labor, the failure to do which, or tv) 
take exercise equivalent, is a plain violation of an 
important law of health. 
Fred.—To what fact do you refer, Father? 
Father.—To this :—That although the heart pos- 
sesses and exerts great power, yet it is evident that it 
was not intended, and consequently was not endowed 
with the power necessary, to propel the blood through 
the body, without the aid afforded by the alternate 
contraction and relaxation of the muscles acting upon 
the veins which lie between them, (See page 168). 
Just about that amount of labor requisite to provide 
the necessaries of life, is absolutely requisite to a 
healthful circulation of the blood, and without that 
labor, it becomes weak and sluggish, and the system 
cold and torpid. 
And this agrees perfectly with the Mosaic history 
of the creation of Adam, which says, "And the Lord 
God took the man, and put him into the garden of 
Eden, to dress it and to keep it.” Thus we see that 
Adam, in his primeval state of innocence, was not to 
live in idleness. 
Exercise strengthens the muscles, expands the chest, 
gives tone and vigor to the digestive and nutritive 
organs, increases the appetite, quickens the circula- 
tion of the blood, and determines it from the internal 
organs to the surface, thereby preventing congestion 352 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Effects of exercise on body and mind. 
and obstructions,—equalizes the nervous energy, and 
disposes to quiet and refreshing sleep. It promotes 
and equalizes animal heat, aids the secretions and ex- 
cretions, gives strength and firmness to the bones,— 
in short, it imparts tone and vigor to every part and 
organ of the body. 
By exercise also, the spirits are enlivened, as well 
as the body strengthened and refreshed. And it is a 
truth which cannot be controverted, that where exer- 
cise is neglected, the energy and strength of the 
whole system gradually decay, a morbid, irritable 
state is induced, the powers of the stomach and bowels 
sustain particular injury, the appetite fails oris vitiat- 
ed, the digestive fluids are but imperfectly secreted, 
the muscles become relaxed and debilitated, the nerv- 
ous system weakened and deranged, and the whole 
animal economy sinks into disorder. 
“ Toil and be strong. By toil the flaccid nerves 
Grow firm, and gain a more compacted tone; 
The greener juices are by toil subdued, 
Mellow’d, and subtilized ; the vapid old 
Expell’d, and all the rancor of the blood.” 
Armstrong. 
Much depends on the manner and kind of exercise 
employed. It should be regular and taken at stated 
intervals; no day should pass without a reasonable 
amount of it; but it should not be excessive,—that 
is, it should not be carried too far, or continued so 
long as to produce exhaustion. Extremes should be MADE PLAIN. 
353 
A physiological fact explained. 
avoided. Persons may injure themselves by too much, 
as well as too little exercise. 
It is also very desirable that exereise should, if pos- 
sible, be connected with some pleasing occupation, 
such as gardening, hunting, building, etc. 
Active exercise should not be taken immediately 
after a full meal. 
Fred.—Why not, Father ? 
Father.—To answer your question, I must first state 
an important physiological fact, which is, that every 
muscle, organ and part of the body, when engaged in 
active exercise, or when hard at work, requires, and 
must have, an extra supply of blood and nervous force, 
to support and sustain the increased action. And 
whenever a limb or an organ, increases its exertion, 
there is an extra amount of. both blood and nervous 
fluid invited or drawn to it. It is therefore evident, 
that each meal taken into the stomach, requiring 
vigorous exertion or labor of that organ during the 
time of its digestion, renders it necessary that an in- 
creased amount of blood and nervous energy should 
also be supplied, which can be done only by a draft 
from other parts of the system. Now, it is evident 
that all parts cannot be supplied with an extra amount 
of blood and nervous force at the same time ; and as 
the stomach must have it in order to digest the food, 
it is clear that vigorous exercise of other parts draws 
it from the stomach, and thereby interrupts the diges- 
tive process. 354 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Three kinds of exercise. 
Fred.—I see now why active exercise should not 
be taken immediately after meals. 
Father.—As exercise produces warmth of the body, 
and often perspiration also, due care should be taken 
not to cool off too suddenly, by sitting in a draft of 
air, or for want of adequate clothing. 
As to the time of taking exercise, the morning is 
decidedly preferable. 
Exercise may be considered as active, passive and 
mixed. Active exercise is that which requires vigo- 
rous exertion of the muscles, as walking, sawing and 
splitting wood, gardening, sports, etc. Passive exer- 
cise is that which requires little or no exertion of the 
muscles, such as riding in carriages, sailing boats, 
steam and horse cars, swinging, etc. Mixed exercise 
is both active and passive, as horse-back riding. The 
former is adapted to benefit the healthy and robust,— 
the two latter,—the feeble invalid. Walking, how- 
ever, is an easy, gentle, and beneficial exercise, which 
all can indulge in who have the use of their limbs. 
To receive the greatest benefit, one should walk erect, 
with the shoulders thrown back, so as to give full 
play to the lungs. When the attitude is such that the 
organs are placed in the most natural position, walking 
is not only beneficial, but becomes a source of pleas- 
ure. Active exercise should always be commenced 
moderately, and never abruptly and with violence. 
Frank.—Why so, Father? MADE PLAIN. 
355 
Exercise should be commenced moderately. 
Father.—For the reason that it is injurious and 
dangerous, and sometimes proves fatal to life, to com- 
mence exercise with great violence, and vigorous ex- 
ertion of the muscles. 
Frank.—How can that be ? 
Father.—It is for the reason, as I have previously 
explained, (Seepage 168), that the rapid action of 
the muscles, pressing upon the veins which lie be- 
tween them, forces the blood suddenly and rapidly 
into the heart and lungs, which suddenly crowds the 
blood-vessels of the lungs with an excess of blood, 
causing what is called congestion—a state always 
dangerous, and which may prove suddenly fatal, by 
producing inflammation, or by the rupture of the 
engorged blood-vessels of the lungs. If exercise be 
commenced moderately, the blood-vessels gradually 
adapt themselves to the increased impetus given to 
the blood, and no injury or inconvenience results; 
and after a short time, it may be increased with 
safety. 
In two instances I proved, upon my own person, 
the truth of what I have stated, by making excessive 
haste to reach the railroad depot before the cars left; 
in both of which cases, most violent coughing and 
distress in the lungs were produced, the unpleasant 
effects of which continued for weeks;—an act of im- 
prudence I should never dare repeat. 
Hiding on horse-back is doubtless preferable to any 356 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Best kinds of exercise. 
species of exercise not taken on foot, particularly for 
nervous and dyspeptic persons; and suck ought to 
spend two or three hours daily on horse-back, when 
the weather is suitable. This exercise tends to pro- 
duce an equal distribution of the blood through the 
extremely minute blood-vessels, and prevent an undue 
accumulation in the internal organs. As riding tends 
to equalize the circulation, stimulate the skin, and 
produce a regular action of the bowels, it is admi- 
rably adapted as exercise for consumptives, dyspep- 
tics, and nervous invalids. Riding in some kind of 
an open carriage, is the exercise next preferable for 
invalids, to riding on horse-back, as a person has the 
benefit of changing the air and breathing it pure and 
fresh, which is of great importance. It also gives 
one a pleasing variety of scenery and of country. 
Fred.—Father, what do you think of dancing? is 
that good exercise ? 
Father.—I think dancing. does more harm than 
good. 
Fred.—What are your reasons for thinking so ? 
Father.—I do not object to the simple exercise of 
dancing. It is the conditions and accompanying cir- 
cumstances under which the exercise is taken, that I 
object to,—such as heated and dusty rooms, air ren- 
dered impure by being repeatedly inhaled,—unseason- 
able hours,—the body in a state of perspiration, which 
is suddenly checked by going from warm rooms into MADE PLAIN. 
357 
Exercise best adapted for females. 
cold air with thin shoes and dress ;—these, with other 
evils which might be named, show that dancing is 
better adapted to produce consumption and other fatal 
diseases, than to promote health and prolong life. 
Exercise, of whatever kind, should, if possible, bo 
taken out of door in the open air. This is particu- 
larly desirable for females, as they are so confined by 
domestic duties, that they seldom have the amount of 
exercise in the open air necessary for the promotion 
of health. 
Females should make it a part of their duty, to ex- 
ercise and labor as much as possible in the open air. 
They injure themselves greatly by sitting so much, 
instead of which, they should, in some way, exercise 
the whole body, and if in no other way, by walking 
daily. During the summer season, they should labor 
two or three hours a day in the fiower-garden or 
kitchen. 
The instructions I have given relative to exercise, 
are applicable principally to students, professional 
men, persons of sedentary occupations, and females in 
the higher circles of life. The agriculturist, mechan- 
ic, and those engaged in manufacturing pursuits, of 
course find sufficient exercise in the prosecution of 
their business. 
Fred.—I have been very much interested in what 
you have told us about exercise. I did not know that 
health and bodily vigor depended so much upon it. 358 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Gymnastic exercise. 
But, Father, you have not given us any rules by which 
we can know how much exercise we should take. 
Father.—It would be difficult if not impossible to 
give definite rules applicable to all, as to the amount 
of exercise each should take, for the reason that the 
health and constitution of individuals vary so greatly. 
It should always be enough to produce some degree 
of fatigue. 
The promotion of health by bodily exercise, is re- 
ceiving great attention from physiologists at the pres- 
ent time; and in various parts of this and other 
countries, it is reduced to a system, and is taught in 
establishments, called Gymnasiums. The perform- 
ance is called gymnastics, and is designed to develop, 
and give tone and firmness to the muscular system, 
and indeed to all parts of the body, and also, as before 
stated, for the preservation and promotion of health. 
Gymnastics has been introduced into, and is now 
taught and practised in many schools and colleges. 
A gymnasium has recently been established in this 
city, by Dr. D. Lewis, a gentleman who has devoted 
much attention to the subject, and is highly success- 
ful ; and who merits and enjoys the confidence and 
patronage of the public. 
But I cannot dwell longer upon this subject. 
Frank.—We cannot tell you, Father, how much we 
thank you for the instruction you have given us; and 
to 'prone that we appreciate it, we will show you, by MADE PLAIN. 
359 
Rest—its benefits. 
early rising and otherwise, that we intend to reduce 
it to practice. 
Mary.—Yes, Father, and I mean to work in my 
flower-garden two hours every fair day. 
REST. 
Father.—We are so constituted that suitable periods 
of rest are as important a condition of health, as exer- 
cise. Our bodies imperatively demand stated inter- 
vals of repose. The digestive organs, as I shall 
hereafter show, after the digestion of each meal, 
require a season of rest before they are prepared to 
resume the labor imposed upon them by the succeed- 
ing meal. The muscles and brain, after severe taxa- 
tion, demand quiet and repose as a condition of future 
effective action. Indeed, man’s entire muscular and 
nervous powers require periodical cessation from the 
tax levied upon them by daily toil. All classes of the 
community—persons of all ages, and in every con- 
dition of life, require rest. God has clearly indicated 
this want of our nature, and has most kindly provided 
for it, by the division of time into alternate day and 
night, the one for labor, the other for rest. Day and 
nio-ht,labor and rest, are therefore, the order of nature. 
The labor of the day, whether it be physical or men- 
tal, wearies the body and exhausts its energies. 
Night gives us back the vigor of which the, labor of 360 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH. 
Wise division of time. 
the day has deprived us. How wise and benignant, 
then, is this division of time,—for amidst the glare 
and bustle of day how could we sleep,—amidst the 
darkness of night, how could we labor? CONVERSATION XXIV. 
HYGIENE. 
Clothing—Age—Climate—Season—Material for Clothing- 
Quantity of clothing—Fashion in dress—Baths, cold bath, 
SPONGE BATH, WARM BATH, SHOWER BAffH SLEEP, ITS IMPOR- 
TANCE—Hours most suitable for sleep—Best means of mak- 
ing SLEEP REFRESHING—MATERIAL FOR BEDS—BEST POSITION OF 
THE BODY FOR SLEEP. 
GLOTMINa. 
Father.—A due regard to clothing is another im- 
portant law of health. And to observe that law, 
three particulars must be attended to—climate, age, 
and the season of the year. 
CLIMATE. 
The principal object of clothing, is to protect the 
body from unfavorable atmospheric influences, such 
as cold and dampness, and to preserve the tempera- 
ture of the body at a healthy standard, and no dress, 
or mode of dress, can be proper, which fails to meet 
these demands of the system. Persons of course re- 
quire much more clothing in cold, than in warm 362 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Material for clothing. 
climates. Much, however, depends on age, custom, 
habit and employment. 
-A.GKE- 
During the period of youth, there is a much more 
rapid circulation of the blood, and consequently a 
greater amount of heat generated, than in middle and 
old age. The former period of life, therefore, re- 
quires less clothing than the latter. 
f^E-A-SOiDT- 
Clothing should be adapted to the season of the 
year—much more being required in winter than in 
summer. The change should be made gradually, and 
with great caution. Winter clothing should be put 
on early in the fall, and worn late in the spring, the 
quantity being greatest during the winter months. 
MATERIAL FOE, CLOTHING. 
Clothing, in itself, bestows no heat upon the body, 
it simply prevents the too rapid escape of the heat 
generated in the system, into the surrounding atmos- 
phere. The materials, therefore, of which clothing is 
made, are of great importance to health, some being 
good, others bad conductors of heat. The latter 
should be selected, particularly for winter clothing. 
Fred.—What do you mean, Father, by good and 
bad conductors of heat. I thought heat would pass 
through any thing. MADE PLAIX. 
Good and bad conductors of heat. 
Father.—So it will; but it passes more readily 
through some materials than others. 
Fred.—How do you prove that? 
Father.—That is very easily demonstrated. Cold 
is simply the absence of heat. To deprive the body, 
or any part of it of its natural warmth, produces a 
sensation of cold. Heat is diffusive and tends to an 
equilibrium. If two bodies of unequal temperature 
be placed in contact, the heat passes from the one of 
higher, to the one of lower temperature, until both 
are equal. 
Fred.—I understand that, Father. But how do 
you prove that heat passes more rapidly through, or 
into one substance than another? 
Father.—By experiment. If you place your hand 
on a cold iron or stone, a sensation of cold will be 
produced instantly; whereas, the sensation will be 
but slight, if the hand be placed on a garment of the 
same temperature, made of wool or fur,—for the 
reason that the former are better conductors of heat 
than the latter, and more rapidly conduct the heat 
from the hand, which causes the sensation of cold. 
Fred.—I understand it now. 
Father.—Well, then, do you not sec that clothing 
made of materials which are good conductors, may 
carry off the heat from the body too rapidly, while 
bad conductors coniine it to the body, and thereby 
preserve its warmth? For example : Linen applied 364 
TIIE LAWS OF nEALTH 
Best materials for clothing. 
to the surface of the body, produces a much greater 
sensation of cold than woolen, for the reason that it 
is a better conductor of heat, therefore the former is 
not so good an article for clothing as the latter. 
Fred.—Will you please tell us what are the best 
materials for clothing? 
Father.—Furs, and woolen cloth, are best adapted, 
as articles of dress, to persons exposed to great 
changes of heat and cold. Flannels are particularly 
beneficial, preventing colds, rheumatism, etc., during 
the cold part of the year, and also during the warm 
season, by shielding the system from chills at eve- 
ning. 
Cotton, is smooth in texture, and is well adapted 
for garments to be worn next the skin, as it produces 
little friction. 
Silk, being a bad conductor of heat, is a good arti- 
cle for clothing. 
Linen, being a good conductor, is a poor material 
for apparel. Even in warm weather, and hot climates, 
it is unsuitable for dress, as it conducts away the 
natural warmth of the body too rapidly. 
The texture of clothing is of great importance. The 
material should be of a porous character. 
Fred.—Why should clothing be porous, Father? 
Father.—Do you not recollect, when speaking of the 
functions of the skin, I stated that insensible perspi- 
ration was constantly passing oflf ? v MADE PLAIN. 
365 
Texture and color important. 
Fred.—I do; but what has that to do with the 
quality of clothing? 
Father.—‘Very much. If clothing be impervious 
to perspiration,—that is, if the texture be so close 
that moisture cannot pass through it, both the inside 
of the clothing and the surface of the body will soon 
become damp with retained perspiration, in the same 
way that the foot becomes wet when wearing an India 
rubber boot. But this is not all—the impurities, 
separated from the blood, and thrown off with the 
insensible perspiration, will be retained in the clothing. 
Therefore, it should be made of such material as will 
permit a free passage of the excreted fluids from the 
surface of the body. 
You should also remember what I have repeatedly 
told you, that oxygen is received through the pores of 
the skin, and carbonic acid is thrown off by the same 
medium. Consequently garments made of materials 
of close texture, as India rubber and some other kinds, 
intercept their passage and do much harm. 
Another particular, of which, perhaps, you have 
never thought, is worthy of attention. I refer to the 
fact that the color of our clothing is of considerable 
importance in regulating the temperature of the body. 
Frank.—IIow can color have any effect?' 
Father.—Dark colored clothing, particularly black 
absorbs the sun’s rays, and consequently heat, while 
clothing of light color reflects heat. Dark colored 366 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Dress should be adapted to changes of weather. 
clothing, therefore, is warmest in winter, and light 
colored is coolest in summer. 
GiU-A-HSTTIT-y OF CLOTHING, 
It is impossible to give definite rules as to the 
precise quantity of clothing each person should 
wear ; as the demand varies with different individuals. 
Every one should wear the quantity necessary to keep 
the system warm and comfortable, and each one can 
best judge for him or herself, what amount is needed. 
Robust persons require less than the delicate and 
feeble. 
A great error, especially with females, in this 
changeable climate, is the want of care in adapting 
the dress to the exigencies of the sudden changes in 
the weather. This is a subject worthy of attention, 
especially of invalids. This caution is particularly 
necessary in the spring of the year, when changes 
from heat to cold are so frequent and extreme in con- 
sequence of the east winds. In this city, the forenoon 
is often uncomfortably hot, and the afternoon as un- 
comfortably cold, the change taking place in an hour 
or two. Now, it is evident, that should persons, es- 
pecially the feeble and delicate, fail to change the 
quantity, and if need be the quality of their apparel, 
as often as the temperature of the weather changes, 
they must, of necessity, be exposed to chills and 
severe colds. We need more clothing in the evening. MADE PLAIN. 
367 
Dress should be loose. 
and while asleep, than during the day; for the reason, 
that in the evening wo have less vital energy, and 
consequently, less heat is generated in the system than 
in the day,—and exercise of the body and of the 
brain is suspended during sleep. 
FASHION 11ST DRESS. 
With no small portion of the community, especially 
with females, more importance is attached to fashion 
in dress than to health and comfort. Persons must 
dress fashionably, however dangerous it may prove, 
or ridiculous it may appear ! And fashions are chang- 
ing constantly, regardless of health or comfort. And 
what vast numbers are yearly carried to an untimely 
grave by their devotion to fashion ! 
The most censurable practice in the fashionable 
world, has been that of wearing the clothes so tight 
as to interfere with, and obstruct the circulation of 
the blood and nervous fluid. You can readily per- 
ceive, from what I stated when speaking of the cir- 
culation, how pernicious, and even fatal to health, 
must be compression which obstructs the free passage 
of the blood through the minute vessels. 
On the contrary, our dress should be perfectly loose 
in every part, so as to allow the freest circulation, 
and also the escape of perspirable matter, and the 
absorption of the life giving oxygen. Now do you 
not see that such a practice is a most flagrant violation 
of the laws of health? 368 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Baths. 
Mary.—I do, Father. 
Father.—In regard to tight dressing, I am thankful 
to be able to say, that of late, common sense has, in 
a measure, triumphed over the tyranny and wicked- 
ness of fashion, and the practice has measurably given 
place to a more rational mode of dress. Thick soled 
shoes have also taken the place of thin slippers. 
BATHS. 
Bathing is the application of water of varying de- 
grees of temperature, to the surface of the body. 
Baths are used as a luxury, for cleanliness, the pre- 
servation and promotion of health, and the cure of 
disease. They are employed cold, warm, or tepid, 
and of either fresh or salt water. 
The temperature of the cold bath varies from fifty 
to seventy degrees, or it should be about the tempera- 
ture of rivers and ponds in the summer months. 
The cold bath is a powerful agent; and should be 
employed with discretion. It should be used only by 
persons who possess a good degree of constitutional 
energy, and to such it is a powerful tonic. 
Frank.—What do you mean by tonic? 
Father.—A tonic is what promotes solidity and 
strength of body. A cold bath should be used only 
when it produces a reaction, and is followed by a warm 
glow of the surface. 
COLD BATH. MADE PLAIN. 
Effects of the cold hath. 
Frank.—What is a reaction, and how can a cold 
bath produce a warm glow. 
Father.—The application of cold water to the sur- 
face of the body, causes a sudden contraction of the 
numerous small blood-vessels of the skin, and the 
blood is thereby thrown upon the internal organs, 
which, causing an increased action of the heart, is 
thrown back to the surface, filling again the blood- 
vessels, and producing a redness and glow of the 
skin,—and this is called reaction. And the warm 
blood returning from the internal parts to the surface, 
causes the warmth which is called a glow. And this 
reaction is the criterion by which to decide whether 
the cold bath is beneficial or injurious. If it occur 
with a good degree of energy and promptness, it may 
be regarded as evideuce that the person is in a condi- 
tion to be benefitted by the cold bath. On the con- 
trary, if a reaction does not take place, and a chilli- 
ness and languor are felt, and an uncomfortable 
sensation continues for any length of time, the person 
may know that to him, the cold bath is injurious and 
should not be used, at least, in the ordinary way. 
Such, however, may be able to use to advantage, the 
sponge bath which I shall soon describe. 
Fred.—How long should one remain in a cold 
bath? 
Father.—Five minutes is long enough, in ordinary 
cases, to remain in the cold water; and on coming 370 
TIIE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Sponge bath. 
out, the whole body should be rubbed over briskly 
with a coarse towel or flesh brush. 
SPONGE BATH. 
The most simple, and perhaps, on the whole, the 
most beneficial form of bathing, is the application of 
water to the surface of the body with a sponge. The 
water may be either cold, tepid or warm, to suit the 
feelings and wants of the bather. This form of bath 
is particularly adapted to feeble persons, as they can 
vary the temperature at pleasure, and need uncover 
but a part of the surface at a time, which, having 
sponged and wiped with a coarse towel, should be 
covered warm, and other parts subjected to the same 
course, until the whole body has thus been passed 
over. In this way the most delicate can receive the 
tonic effect of water and friction, with little or no 
risk. This bath is almost universally applicable, and 
can be used in winter as well as summer, and none 
conduces so much to health. The only apparatus 
needed for this simple mode of bathing, is a wash- 
bowl, a sponge and a towel. 
It may be practised daily, or every second or third 
day, or weekly ; and immediately after, brisk friction 
to the whole surface, with a crash towel should be 
used, until the skin assumes an agreeable glow. This 
form of bathing is particularly beneficial to delicate 
persons ; and promotes the growth, health, and activ- 
ity of children. MADE PLAIN. 
371 
The warm bath. 
The best time for this bathing is morning and eve- 
ning. Those who are subject to nervous affections,— 
to wakefulness and disturbed sleep, will find this bath, 
followed by brisk friction of the whole surface, to be 
of great value in the removal of these symptoms. 
This form of bathing is of great value in the preven- 
tion of colds, sore throat, and similar complaints. 
In concluding my remarks upon the cold and sponge 
baths, I wish to give you a word of caution,—which 
is; that neither the cold bath, nor the sponge with 
cold water, should be used when the body is cold or 
chilly. 
THE 33A.TH_ 
The temperature of a warm bath should be about 
ninety-five degrees, or about the warmth of the sur- 
face of the body. This kind of bath is much better 
adapted for bathing in general in most seasons of the 
year, than the cold bath. 
The warm bath soothes and tranquilizes the nervous 
system, warms and expands the small blood-vessels of 
the surface, by which any undue fulness or congestion 
of the internal organs is relieved, and the circulation 
of the blood, and warmth of the body are thereby 
equalized. It relaxes, softens and purifies the skin, 
allays irritation, and induces sleep and quiet repose. 
This form of bath is particularly beneficial and 
agreeable to the aged, whose skin has become dry and 372 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
The shower bath. 
hard, the circulation poor and sluggish, and the body 
cold and emaciated. To such, the warm bath, two or 
three times a week, will afford great comfort, and 
will be of much service by invigorating the system 
and retarding the advance of age. 
Fred.—IIow long should one continue in a warm 
bath ? 
Father.—In a bath of ninety-five degrees, one may 
remain fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, or even thirty 
minutes. 
TELE SHOWER BATH. 
This is an arrangement by which the water falls 
from the height of a few feet through numerous small 
holes, upon the head and body. It can be used at 
any desirable temperature. This form of bath pro- 
duces a shock to the system of greater or less severity, 
according to the temperature of the water. 
The strong and robust, who arc full of vitality, are 
the only ones who can bear and profit by the shock 
of a cold shower bath. The feeble and delicate should 
never attempt its use. If, however, the water be 
tepid or warm, the most delicate and frail can use it’ 
to advantage. A very pleasant mode of terminating 
the warm bath is, to step from it into a tepid or mod- 
erately cold shower bath for a moment. It gives 
tone to the relaxed skin, closes the pores, and guards 
against cold. MADE PLAIN. 
373 
Principles explained. 
Fred.—I have been listening, Father, with much 
interest, to what you have said upon the subject of 
bathing, and I have been expecting you would explain 
the principles on which it produces such beneficial 
effects. I cannot understand how bathing, which 
affects only the surface pf the body, can be of so much 
benefit, for it is the internal organs, you know, that 
are so liable to disease,—the lungs, liver, kidneys, 
stomach, bowels, etc. I wish you would explain it. 
Father.—Do you not recollect what I told you 
when we were conversing about the skin and its im- 
portant functions ? 
Fred.—You told us many things,—to what do you 
refer in particular ? 
Father.—I refer to these facts—that through the 
skin the body has seven million outlets or drains, to 
cany off the waste, irritating and poisonous matter, 
which, if retained in the system would inevitably 
produce disease of the internal organs. 
This waste matter is thrown off by perspiration. 
It consists principally of carbonic acid, phosphate of 
lime, urea, and animal oil. Now, if by an unhealthy 
state of the skin, perspiration be obstructed, and 
these irritants, which amount to two or three pounds 
per day, bo retained in the blood, they will be thrown 
upon, or will lodge in the lungs, liver, kidneys, 
bowels, etc., and produce disease of these organs. 
The most common cause of the worst forms of dys- 374 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Principles explained. 
entery, is a sudden check of perspiration, when, for 
some time it has been profuse; and many cases also 
of fever and consumption, owe their origin to the 
same cause. Now, do you not see the importance 
of keeping the skin in a condition in which it will 
perform its functions and carj.*y olf these impurities ? 
But this is not q,ll. These agents are liable to col- 
lect on the surface and be absorbed, and act as a 
poison upon the system, producing eruptions upon 
the skin, inflammation, fever, etc. In all such cases 
the proper use of some form of bath is precisely 
what is indicated, to remove from the surface this 
poisonous animal eflluvia, and restore the healthy 
functions of the skin. Again, when the pores are 
closed or obstructed, it prevents the absorption of 
oxygen, consequently the system is deprived of that 
amount of this vital principle, which, in health, is 
received through the skin. 
When, by a suspension of the functions of the skin, 
the internal organs have become diseased, it is im- 
possible to restore them to a healthy condition, until 
the functions of the skin are restored. And in the 
cure of many diseases, especially fevers, this is more 
essential than all else ; and in many cases is the only 
tiling needed. Do you not, therefore, see the appro- 
priateness and value of baths, both in preserving and 
restoring health ? 
Fred.—I do, but I should not have seen it, had you 
not given this clear explanation. MADE PLAIN. 
375 
The importance of sleep. 
SLEEP. 
Sleep 1 What is it ? Who can define it, or explain 
its secret power? The true emblem of death, yet 
the restorer of life’s exhausted energies. It suspends, 
and for the time annihilates, every bodily sense and 
mental capacity, but it does so, that it may, without 
molestation, touch with new energy, the over-wrought 
and weakened springs of nature, and, as it were, gal- 
vanize them into new life. It is Nature’s anaesthetic, 
with which she etherizes the system, that she may 
perform her secret operations, unnoticed and unop- 
posed. "Tired nature’s sweet restorer—balmy sleep,” 
is as important to the health and comfort of the human 
family now, as when the immortal Young sang so 
sweetly of its value. 
Alternate periods of waking and sleep are essential 
to health. Too little sleep exhausts the spirits, de- 
bilitates the nervous system, produces headache, 
anxiety of mind, and moroseness of temper. Too 
much debilitates the muscles, relaxes the nerves, and 
produces a state of indolent stupidity which sometimes 
is not thrown off for the whole day. It is evident, 
therefore, that some rules, for regulating the time and 
hours of sleep, are necessary. 
The practice of retiring early to rest and rising 
early in the morning, is favorable to the development 
of the powers of the system and the preservation of 
health. Those who lie too long in bed become elFem- 376 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Amount of sleep required. 
inate and enervated, and soon lose that activity, which 
conduces to health, and gives value to life. 
Six hours sleep every night is sufficient for any 
adult person during the summer, who is in health, 
and in winter seven, or, at the most, eight. Those 
who indulge for nine or ten hours in bed are commonly 
wakeful or restless during the first part of the night, 
and, when they ought to rise, sink to restand slumber 
on till a late hour in the morning. The strongest 
constitution will eventually be injured by such a course, 
for nothing more certainly destroys the constitution 
than that of sitting up a great part of the night, and 
lying in bed the most pleasant and most healthful part 
of the day, as is too much the custom with those who 
lead a fashionable life, thereby converting night into 
day and day into night. This plan of proceeding is 
sure to injure the health of its votaries and shorten 
the natural period of life, and it will undermine the 
strongest constitution, even if accompanied with habits 
of regularity in other respects. Inverting the estab- 
lished order of things, by turning night into day, soon 
robs the blooming cheek of its roses and lilies, brings 
on early decay, and destroys the most vigorous frame. 
Persons should not sleep in the same apartments 
they occupy during the day. The bed-chamber should 
be spacious and dry, and such as can be exposed to 
the sun, with the windows open during the day, for 
the admission of pure air, and the dispersion of the MADE PLAIN. 
377 
How sleep is made refreshing. 
poisonous exhalations of the previous night. The 
beds should be well shaken up every morning, and 
these, as well as the bed-clothes, should be fully ex- 
posed to the fresh air for a sufficient length of time. 
It is safe and proper to allow children to take as 
much sleep as they please;—and persons far advanced 
in years, especially if feeble, should indulge in as 
much quiet repose as they choose to take, as in them 
the enfeebled springs of life are weakened by over- 
action and want of sufficient sleep. 
"The best means of making sleep refreshing is, to 
take proper exercise through the day; to avoid strong 
infusions of tea or coffee in the evening; to make a 
very light supper, at least an hour or two before re- 
tiring to rest, where such a meal is indispensably 
necessary; to go early to bed; to lie down with a 
mind as serene and cheerful as possible, placing the 
body in the position which is most congenial to the 
feelings and habits of the individual; and to rise 
betimes in the morning—for it has been observed that 
most of those who have attained a great age, have 
been early risers. It must, however, be understood 
that, although early rising and activity are conducive 
to health, they should, nevertheless, be regulated by 
the state of the bodily strength, the season of the year, 
and the habitual exertions of the mind.” 
We seldom hear the active laborer complaining of 
restless nights ; these complaints usually come from 
the slothful and indolent. 378 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Students sleep too little. 
"The laborer enjoys more real luxury in sound 
sleep and plain food, than he who fares sumptuously 
and reposes on downy pillows, where due exercise is 
wanting.” 
Perhaps no class of the community are more prone 
to violate the laws of health in regard to sleep, and 
thereby induce disease, than students. They not only 
often over-tax the brain and nervous system, by "con- 
suming the midnight oil” in vigorous appliance to 
their books, but they deprive themselves of the only 
power that can sustain the nervous system—proper 
hours of sleep. And many a student, while devoting 
his best energies to a preparation for usefulness in 
future life, has, before closing his college course, by 
violating this law of health, laid the foundation for 
premature death. 
That sleep may be healthy and refreshing, and may 
answer its intended purpose, much depends on the 
material used for beds and bed clothes. It should be 
sufficiently porous to allow a proper circulation of the 
air, and of a character which will permit the play of 
the electric currents. 
Frank.—Why should beds and bedding be of such 
a character? 
Father.—For the reason that the heat, which is 
constantly passing from the body, if it cannot escape 
through the clothing, becomes excessive; also the 
air, confined in the bed, is soon deprived of its oxygen, MADE PLAIN. 
379 
Best Materials for beds. 
it being absorbed by the body,—and is filled with 
carbonic acid, thrown off* by the skin. And what a 
condition is this for rest, and refreshing slumber—the 
body deprived of oxygen and surrounded with car- 
bonic acid! 
Mary.—What materials are the most objectionable, 
and what the most suitable for beds ? 
Father.—The most objectionable are feathers to lie 
upon, and what are called comfortables for covering, 
as they confine the air in the bed. Feathers are also 
non-conductors of electricity, and interfere with the 
electric currents. The best article for a bed is a hair 
mattress, and the best coverings are sheets, blankets 
and other woolen articles. Husks, straw, and cork 
shavings are preferable to feathers. 
There is a somewhat recent invention, called "spring 
bed ” which consists of coiled wires arranged in the 
manner of the seat of a sofa, which, it is said, secures 
the softness and elasticity of feathers, without any of 
their objectionable features. I have never used them 
myself, but they are highly commended by those who 
have, and I should recommend a trial of them as a 
substitute for feathers. 
The position for sleeping is of consequence. The 
recumbent is preferable, but not indispensable,—I 
mean for a healthy person. Some sleep on the back, 
but this is objectionable, as it is liable to produce 
nightmare, in consequence of tin pressure of the organs 380 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Best position of the body for sleeping. 
of the chest upon the aorta and other vessels. The 
sick can often lie and sleep on the back better than 
in any other position. For the healthy, sleeping on 
the right side is the most favorable. There are physi- 
ological causes for its being so. 
Frank.—What are the causes, Father? 
Father.—The most favorable position for sleeping 
is that in which the blood and other fluids circulate 
the most freely and with the least obstruction. When 
lying on the back, as I have said, the organs of the 
thorax press upon the aorta and thoracic duct, ob- 
structing the passage of the blood and chyle. Lying 
on the left side obstructs the free flow of the blood 
through the left lung, by the pressure of the heart 
upon it,—the heart being situated to the left of the 
medial line of the chest. This pressure of the heart 
also interferes with its own free action, and these are 
a prominent cause of nightmare. But when lying on 
the right side, no pressure of one part or organ upon 
another takes place; consequently, the blood flows 
freely, producing no unpleasant sensation, nor inter- 
fering with the vital functions. I ought to add, that a 
full stomach, particularly a heavy supper, adds greatly 
to this pressure and obstruction of the free flow of the 
blood, and is the most common cause of nightmare. 
And this is the reason why nightmare occurs more 
frequently the first, than the latter part of the night. 
It is not proper, however, that persons should sleep 381 
MADE PLAIN. 
How to cure wakefulness. 
all night in one position,—they should occasionally 
turn from one side to the other, and most persons do 
so unconsciously. 
Some persons lie awake a part of the night, for the 
reason, usually, that they spend more time in bed 
than nature requires for sleep. Such was the case in 
early life, with that eminent divine—the Kev. John 
Wesley. Suspecting the cause to be what I have 
named, he procured an alarm clock, which he set so 
as to awake him an hour earlier than usual in the 
morning. He then retired to rest at nine in the eve- 
ning, and found he lay awake one hour less than usual 
during the night. He then arranged the bell to awake 
him two hours earlier, and the result was two hours 
less wakefulness. Thus he continued the experiment, 
reducing the time spent in bed, until all was occupied 
in sleep, which was six hours. And having ascer- 
tained the amount of sleep needful to health, his 
uniform practice, for more than half a century, was to 
retire at ten in the evening and rise at four in the 
morning,—an example worthy the imitation of all who 
wish to economise time, fill up life with usefulness, 
preserve health, and live, as he did, to a good old 
age. Thus you see, my children, from what I have 
said, the importance of obeying the law of health 
in regard to sleep. CONVERSATION XXV. 
DIET. 
Appetite, its design and use—Children should be taught tub 
LAWS OP DIGESTION AND NUTRITION—QUANTITY OF FOOD—EX- 
CESSIVE eating—Indigestible food—Dr. Beaumont’s experi- 
ments on digestion—Facts obtained, and their practical 
benefit—Testimony of medical men—Eating too rapidly— 
Great variety in food objectionable—Times of eating— 
Stomach requires rest—Hours for meals—Comparative merits 
OF ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE FOOD—SwiNE’s FLESH, PORK, PRO- 
HIBITED—Animals most suitable for food—The art of cook- 
ing, its ERRORS and evils. 
Father.—In a previous conversation, I very briefly 
explained the process of digestion, and hinted at the 
results of disregarding the laws by which it is con- 
trolled. Regarding the proper observance of dietetic 
rules of vital importance to health, and their viola- 
tion as the most prolific cause, directly or indirectly, 
of a vast majority of the ills to which flesh is heir, I 
shall now dwell at some length upon this subject. 
Of all the numerous violations of the laws of health, 
none are so common, and none, perhaps, so disastrous 
as those relating to diet. Intemperance in eating and THE LAWS OE HEALTH. 
383 
The object of appetite. 
drinking, produces more suffering, both physical and 
mental, than any other, and, I think I may say in 
truth, all other causes. 
Let us first consider the subject of eating. Our 
bodies require a certain amount of nutriment to fur- 
nish material for repairing the waste of the system, 
and, in the young, for the growth of the body also. 
And as I have already told you, ample means are pro- 
vided in the digestive fluids for the digestion of that 
amount of food required for the nutriment of the body, 
and no more. We are also endowed with appetite, 
for the three following purposes:—1st. To inform 
us when food is needed. 2d. When enough is taken. 
3d. To afford pleasure in eating. Now these three 
objects, I think, would be fully accomplished, had 
man never abused his appetite :—but the last named 
object,—pleasure in eating, has, in most persons, 
become the ruling principle, and has thrown the 
other two entirely into the shade, and rendered them 
nugatory. 
To inquire when food is needed, and if the quality 
is suitable, and how much should be taken, are the 
last things to be thought of. The delicious flavor, 
and an abundant supply, are the all absorbing points 
of interest. Hence, many eat without regard to time 
or quantity, so long as food tastes good. Whether it 
is needed to nourish the system, never enters their 
thoughts. Whether it will promote, or prostrato 384 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Children should be taught the laws of digestion. 
strength and vigor, is an inquiry with which they 
never trouble themselves. As to digestion and nutri- 
tion being under the control of law, they seem not to 
have the remotest idea. In action they agree with 
the poet— 
“ Live while you live the epicure will &ay, 
And seize the pleasures of the present day.” 
” Pleasures! ” Yes, sensual, brutal pleasures ! No, 
not brutal,—brutes never degrade themselves with 
gluttony. They eat to the satisfying of the demands 
of nature, and no more. To man alone, the terms 
epicure and glutton are applicable. Humiliating fact! 
Heir of immortality, yet slave to appetites which de- 
grade and ruin both soul and body. 
Now there are causes for this strange violation of 
our nature, and abuse of God’s goodness in adding 
pleasure to a necessity of our being,—that of eating. 
Fred.—What are the causes, Father? 
Father.—Want of correct knowledge of the laws 
of digestion, and of the dreadful penalty annexed to 
their violation, may be regarded as a primary cause. 
Children should be instructed in dietetic rules, and 
the laws of digestion and nutrition at an early period 
of life. It should be a part of their education, as 
much as the multiplication table and the rules of 
arithmetic. 
Fred.—Can children be taught the laws of digestion, 
so as to regulate their diet by them ? MADE PLAIN. 
385 
Laws of digestion as easily taught as other sciences. 
Father.—I think so. Why not? Children are 
taught, at an early ago, that fire will burn,—that if 
they put their fingers into it, it will cause pain, and 
produce blisters and sores, and that these are the 
effects of the violatiou of a law of life. Why then 
may they not be taught that when they eat unripe 
fruit, and it causes pain and disease of the stomach 
and bowels, they have violated a law of health, of 
which the pain and disease are a result and penalty; 
or when they eat indigestible food, or too much of 
what is digestible, and it lies heavy, or becomes acid 
in the stomach, and causes headache and nervous and 
feverish excitement, that these are the effect of a vio- 
lated law;—or when late and heavy suppers cause 
restless sleep, frightful dreams, nightmare, and a sense 
of languor and fatigue on waking in the morning, 
that these are the result of wrong doing ? 
Now I think it quite as easy, to teach, not only the 
laws of digestion and nutrition, but all the laws of 
our physical being, as to teach the science of astron- 
omy, or chemistry, or philosophy, or any of the more 
simple natural sciences. 
Frank.—What you say, Father, looks reasonable, 
and I doubt not is true ;—will you please instruct us 
in the rules of diet, and teach us in what the violation 
of, and obedience to its laws consist? 
Father.—I will name some of the most essential 
things, but have not time to tell you all, for it would 386 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
111 effects of excessive eating. 
require a volume. One of the most important rules of 
diet, and one which is almost universally violated, 
relates to 
THE GiTT-A.IXrTIT'Sr OF FOOD. 
I said this rule is generally violated. That may 
seem a grave charge, but I believe it true. A vast 
majority of the community, eat from one-third to one- 
half more food than the system requires, or the stom- 
ach can digest. Consequently, with them there can 
be no perfect digestion, for, as I have already said, 
there is no excess of gastric juice supplied to digest 
an excess of food. Nature never does her work in 
this way. Consequently a part of the food remains 
undigested, which, by fermenting becomes acid and 
rancid, generating a gas which fills the stomach and 
bowels, causing flatulence, painful eructations, and 
often cholic. In some cases the contents of the 
stomach become so exceedingly acrid and irritating, 
as to excoriate the mucous membrane of the stomach 
and throat, and cause rapid decay of the teeth. Di- 
luted nitric acid could scarcely prove more injurious. 
But the irritation produced by the acrid contents of 
the stomach, is not the only, nor the greatest evil. 
You must recollect that out of this acrid mass is 
derived the nutriment from which is formed, not only 
the blood, but all the fluids and soli Is of the body. 
And who cannot see, that blood formed of such acid MADE PLAIN. 
387 
Effect of acrid material in the blood. 
and acrid material, must be exceedingly impure, and 
instead of forming a sound, healthy body, and im- 
parting a healthful and pleasurable stimulus to the 
system, must prove a source of irritation, causing 
headache, flushing, eruptions of the skin, and ex- 
citement of the whole nervous system, and poisoning 
all the fluids of the body. Nor is this all. Excessive 
eating exerts an equally unfavorable effect upon the 
mind, causing irritability, moroseness, and depression 
of spirits, which renders one unhappy, and disquali- 
fies for vigorous mental action. 
Fred.—I should think the blood, made of such acrid 
material, would be a mass of impurity. 
Father.—So it would, and would cause immediate 
death,-did not the secreting organs perform an extra 
amount of labor, in separating from the blood, these 
impurities. But in doing so, ijiey often become dis- 
eased themselves, both by over-exertion, and from 
the irritation caused by the poisonous impurities while 
passing through them. Hence excessive eaters usually 
have more or less derangement and disease of the 
liver, kidneys, stomach, and other secreting organs. 
Another mode of violating the laws of health, is the 
use of indigestible food. Upon this subject I might, 
and to do justice, ought to say much, but time will 
not allow me now to go into all the minute particulars. 
I shall only name the most important facts. 
The comparative digestibility of different kinds of 388 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Experiment on digestion. 
food, has been a subject of study and experiment by 
many able physiologists. 
Fred.—You say of study and experiment,—I do 
not see how it is possible to experiment on digestion, 
as that takes place within the stomach, and, of course 
out of sight. 
Father.—It is true, that under ordinary circum- 
stances, we cannot actually sec what is going on in the 
stomach. Yet that advantage has been enjoyed, in a 
few instances, by which much valuable knowledge has 
been obtained in reference to the phenomena of di- 
gestion. 
Fred.—Do you mean that persons have sometimes 
looked into the stomach, and seen the process of di- 
gestion going on ? 
Father.—A few instances of that kind have oc- 
curred. A 
Fred.—How is that possible ? 
Father.—By artificial openings into the stomach, 
the most important case of which occurred in the 
year 1822. The facts are briefly as follows :—A young 
man, named Alexis St. Martin, eighteen years of age, 
of robust health and good constitution, was wounded 
in the stomach by the accidental discharge of a musket, 
at the distance of one yard from the muzzle of the 
gun, loaded with duck-shot, which made an opening, 
into the stomach, the size of a man’s hand. The young 
man recovered from the wound, and enjoyed good MADE PLAIN. 
389 
Beaumont’s experiments on digestion. 
health after, but the orifice or opening never closed, 
and through it, the process of digestion could bo 
clearly seen. 
This afforded a rare opportunity for obtaining 
knowledge upon the subject, and his physician, Dr. 
Beaumont, a surgeon in the military service of the 
United States, did not fail to improve it by making 
many interesting experiments, by which important 
information was obtained upon the subject of diges- 
tion. 
Fred.—That was wonderful indeed ! Did not the 
experiments cause pain? 
Father.—Not any. Dr. Beaumont began his ex- 
periments in May, 1825, and continued them for 
several months, St. Martin, having fully recovered, 
and being then in perfect health. 
Mary.—It certainly must have been a wonderful 
sight to look into the living stomach and see digestion 
going on. Do you know, Father, if he is yet living? 
Father.—I do not. I saw him a few years since at 
an annual meeting in this city, of the Massachusetts 
Medical Society, but have heard nothing from him 
since. 
Frank.—What discoveries did Dr. Beaumont make 
by his experiments ? 
Father.—Many very important ones, but I cannot 
stop now to tell you all, as I have much to say upon 
digestion before we close this conversation. I will, 390 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Table on digestion. 
however, name a few. He discovered and demon- 
strated many important facts relative to the nature 
and power of the gastric juice. He found, also, that 
the time required to digest different articles of food 
varies greatly, and is much affected by the manner of 
cooking. 
Frank.—Will you tell us what the difference is? 
Father.—I will give you the mean time required to 
digest the articles in most common use. 
Table showing the mean time of digestion of the 
different articles of diet. 
ARTICLES OF DIET. 
MODE OF PREPARATION 
TIME FOR DIGESTION 
Rice, 
Boiled, 
H. M. 
1 00 
Tripe, soused, 
Boiled, 
1 30 
Esia'S, whipped, 
Raw, 
1 30 
Trout, Salmon, fresh, 
Boiled or fried, 
1 30 
Apples, sweet and mellow, 
Raw, 
1 30 
Sago, 
Boiled, 
1 45 
Tapioca, 
Boiled, 
2 00 
Milk, 
Boiled, 
2 00 
Liver, beef’s, fresh, 
Broiled, 
2 00 
Eggs, fresh, 
Raw, 
2 00 
Codfish, cured, dry, 
Boiled, 
2 00 
Apples, sour and mellow, 
Raw, 
2 00 
Milk, 
Raw, 
2 15 
Eggs, fresh, 
Roasted, 
2 15 
Turkey, domestic, 
Boiled, 
2 25 
Gelatine, 
Boiled, 
2 30 
Turkey, domestic, 
Roasted, 
2 30 
Lamb, fresh, 
Broiled, 
2 30 
Hash, meat and vegetables, 
Warmed, 
2 30 
Beans, pods, 
Boiled, 
2 30 
Cake, sponge, 
Baked, 
2 30 
Parsnips, 
Boiled, 
2 30 
Potatoes, Irish, 
Roasted or baked, 
2 45 
Chicken, full grown, 
Fricassee, 
2 45 
Custard, 
Baked, 
2 45 
Beef, with salt only, 
Boiled, 
2 45 
Apples, sour and hard, 
Raw, 
2 50 MADE PLAIN. 
391 
Table on digestion. 
ARTICLES OF DIET. 
MODE OF PREPARATION. 
TIME FOR DIGESTION 
H. M. 
Oysters, fresli, 
Raw, 
2 55 
Eggs, fresh, 
Soft boiled, 
3 00 
Beef, fresh, lean, rare, 
Roasted, 
3 00 
Beef steak, 
Broiled, 
3 00 
Pork, recently salted, 
Stewed, 
3 00 
Mutton, fresh, 
Broiled or boiled, 
3 00 
Chicken soup, 
Boiled, 
3 00 
Cake, corn, 
Baked, 
3 00 
Dumplin, apple, 
Boiled, 
3 00 
Oysters, fresh, 
Roasted, 
3 15 
Pork steak, 
Broiled, 
3 15 
Pork, recently salted, 
Broiled, 
3 15 
Mutton, fresh, 
Roasted, 
3 15 
Bread, corn, 
Baked, 
3 15 
Sausage, fresh, 
Broiled, 
3 20 
Oysters, fresh, 
Stewed, 
3 30 
Beef, with mustard, etc., 
Boiled, 
3 30 
Butter, 
Melted, 
3 30 
Cheese, old, strong, 
Raw, 
3 30 
Soup, mutton, 
Boiled, 
3 30 
Oyster soup, 
Boiled, 
3 30 
Bread, wheaten, fresh, 
Baked, 
3 30 
Turnips, flat, 
Boiled, 
3 30 
Potatoes, Irish, 
Boiled, 
3 30 
Eggs, fresh, 
Hard, boiled or fried, 
3 30 
Green corn and beans, 
Boiled, 
3 45 
Beet, 
Boiled, 
3 45 
Salmon, salted, 
Boiled, 
4 00 
Veal, fresh, 
Broiled, 
4 00 
Fowl, domestic, 
Boiled or roasted, 
4 00 
Ducks, domestic, 
Roasted, 
4 00 
Pork, recently salted, 
Fried, 
4 15 
Soup, marrow bones, 
Boiled, 
4 15 
Pork, recently salted, 
Boiled, 
4 30 
Veal, fresh, 
Fried, 
4 30 
Cabbage, with vinegar, 
Boiled, 
4 30 
Pork, fat and lean, 
Roasted, 
5 15 
Tendon, 
Boiled, 
5 30 
The result of Dr. Beaumont’s experiments are very 
interesting, but they should not be too much relied 
upon, as they are greatly modified or influenced by 
circumstances, such as the keenness of the appetite, 
the amount of exercise taken, the lapse of time since 
the preceding meal, the state of the health, the per- 392 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Dednctions from Beaumont’s experiments. 
fection of mastication, and above all, the quantity of 
food taken in proportion to the gastric juice secreted; 
—for a large quantity may remain undigested for 
several hours, while a smaller amount of the same 
articles may be entirely digested in one-lialf or one- 
third of the time. 
From what I have stated relative to Dr. Beaumont’s 
experiments, you see that the length of time required 
to digest the various articles used for food, varies from 
one to five and a half hours, in a healthy stomach. 
In a weak and debilitated one, it, of course, takes a 
much longer time. Now the practical benefit to be 
derived from this, is the following:—In selecting 
food, reference should be had to its digestibility; for, 
let it be remembered, health depends greatly upon 
the amount of labor imposed upon the stomach,—if 
too much, disease will sooner or later follow. 
Another violation of the laws of health, in eating, 
is the practice of compounding a large number of 
articles into one dish, and using a great variety at the 
same meal, together with condiments, gravies, pickles, 
preserves, etc. 
To observe the proceedings at the dining table of a 
fashionable hotel or boarding house, is enough to as- 
tonish one at the capacity of endurance with which 
the stomach is endowed. The following will illus- 
trate. A few years since I was dining at a hotel in a 
New England city, where the following scene attracted MADE PLAIN. 
393 
A great variety objectionable. 
my attention. A gentleman sitting opposite, com- 
menced his dinner thus :—First, a dish of soup. This 
disposed of, he next took into a plate a large quantity 
of lobster, which he cut up line,—then a head of let- 
tuce, which he also cut and mixed with the lobster. 
To this he added a liberal portion of mustard, vinegar 
and sweet oil, all of which were well incorporated 
with the former. 
Fred.—But what was he going to do with such a 
compound ? 
Father.—This was his salad, to give zest to his 
dinner. Next came a plate liberally loaded with 
meats, potatoes, vegetables, gravy, etc., which, to- 
gether with the salad, was hastily disposed of, being 
washed down with a bottle of porter. Then came 
hot puddings, pies and jellies to which he did ample 
justice, and finally finished off the meal with fruits, 
nuts, raisins, etc. I could but say to myself,—-poor 
stomach! how long can you endure such barbarous 
treatment! Now I do not mean to say that all lovers 
of good food abuse themselves in this way, but it is a 
specimen of the manner in which thousands and mil- 
lions sacrifice good health to what they call good 
living. And can we wonder that the stomach, thus 
loaded and goaded, at length is exhausted, and that 
dyspepsia, liver complaint, and the thousand ills to 
which such abuse gives rise, render life a scene of 
suffering ? 394 
THE LAWS OE HEALTH 
Testimony of physicians. 
Fred.—I believe wliat you say, Father, but I wish 
to ask if physicians generally entertain the same 
views. 
Father.—I think I agree, substantially, with phy- 
sicians in general, many of whom have written much 
upon this subject. 
Fred.—Please tell us what they say. 
Father.—One writer says, "Almost every malady 
to which the human frame is subject, is connected with 
the stomach; and I must own, I never see a fashion- 
able physician mysteriously counting the pulse of a 
plethoric patient, or, with a silver spoon on his tongue, 
importantly looking down his red inflamed gullet, but 
I feel a desire to exclaim, ' Why not tell the poor 
gentleman at once—Sir, you’ve eaten too much, 
you’ve drunk too much, and you’ve not taken exercise 
enough ! ’ That these are the main causes of almost 
every one’s illness, there can be no greater proof than 
that those savage nations which live actively and tem- 
perately have only one great disorder—death. The 
human frame was not created imperfect—it is we our- 
selves who have made it so ; there exists no donkey in 
creation so overladen as our stomachs; and they groan 
under the weight so cruelly imposed upon them.” 
Professor Caldwell, of Transylvania University, 
says, that, "one American consumes as much food as 
two Highlanders or two Swiss, although the latter are 
among the stoutest of the race.” "Intemperate eat- MADE PLAIN. 
395 
Testimony of physicians. 
ing,” says he, "is, perhaps, the most universal fault 
we commit. We are guilty of it, not occasionally, 
hut habitually, and almost uniformly, from the cradle 
to the grave. It is the bane alike of our infancy and 
youth, our maturity and age. It is infinitely more 
common than intemperance in drinking; and the 
aggregate of the mischief it does is greater. For 
every reeling drunkard that disgraces our country, it 
contains one hundred gluttons—persons, I mean, who 
eat to excess and sufier by the practice.” Again he 
says, "The frightful mess often consists of all sorts of 
eatable materials that can be collected and crowded 
together; and its only measure is the endurance of 
the appetite and the capacity of the stomach.” 
lie adds, "I do not say that such eating always and 
every where occurs among us, but I do say that it 
occurs too frequently.” Dr. Abercrombie, one of the 
most eminent physicians of modern times, says, "I 
believe that every stomach, not actually impaired by 
organic disease, will perform its functions if it receive 
reasonable attention ; and when we consider the man- 
ner in which diet is generally conducted, both in re- 
gard to quantity and to the variety of articles of food 
and drink which are mixed up into one heterogeneous 
mass, instead of being astonished at the prevalence of 
indigestion, our wonder must rather be, that in such 
circumstances, any stomach is capable of digesting at 
all. In the regulation of diet, much certainly is to bo 396 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Rapid eating injurious—reasons why. 
done in dyspeptic cases, by attention to the quality of 
the articles that are taken; but I am satisfied that 
much more depends upon the quantity; and I am even 
disposed to say, that the dyspeptic might be almost 
independent of any attention to the quality of his 
diet, if he rigidly observed the necessary restrictions 
in regard to quantity.” These quotations are a fair 
sample of the concurrent testimony of physicians 
upon this subject, and I might quote enough such to 
fill a volume, but I must hasten to other particulars. 
Another error in diet is that of eating too rapidly. 
The injury resulting from hasty eating is three-fold. 
1st. Good digestion depends greatly on the thorough 
mastication of the food. If it be swallowed in a crude, 
coarse state, the labor which should have been per- 
formed by the teeth, is imposed upon the stomach. 
Dr. Beaumont found, by his experiments, that diges- 
tion is greatly facilitated by minuteness of division, 
and retarded by the opposite. But it is impossible to 
thoroughly masticate food, and grind, or break down 
its more solid parts, when it is eaten hastily. 2d. 
There should be a thorough admixture of saliva with 
the food while mastication is going on, it being one* 
of the digestive fluids. But this admixture is impos- 
sible unless the food be well ground, and retained in 
the mouth for a sufficient length of time. Therefore, 
when food is swallowed hastily, and in a crude state, 
the benefit to be derived from this important fluid, is MADE PLAIN. 
397 
Rules on diet. 
lost. 3d. Hasty eating is one of the principal causes 
of excessive eating. When wo eat moderately, the 
sensation of hunger, or the appetite, is gradually 
satiated, and we are thus informed when a sufficient 
amount of food has been taken. But if it be eaten 
hastily, the monitions or indications of the appetite, 
as to quantity, are unheeded, if not unnoticed, 
and often, in such cases, the capacity of the stomach 
for holding, seems to be the only limit to the voracious 
eating. We Americans have acquired a notoriety 
with other nations not at all enviable, for our greedy 
manner of eating;—and I think we are justly charg- 
able with being "a nation of gormandizers.” 
Fred.—You have told us much, Father, about the 
evils of excessive and hasty eating. Gan you give 
us any definite rules by which we should be governed 
in these particulars ? 
Father.—It would, perhaps, be impossible, in the 
present state of society, to give rules applicable to 
all. As I have before said, the appetite was given us 
for this purpose, but it has been so abused that it is 
not now always to be trusted. These obstacles, though 
formidable, are not insurmountable, and I shall give 
you important rules in regard to diet, as we proceed. 
Any rule that will cure excessive eating, will, I 
think, be pretty sure to cure hasty eating; for, if we 
limit ourselves to an adequate, but what might appeal 
a small quantity of food, we shall not be likely to THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
The practice of two or three courses at dinner objectionable. 
dispose of it hastily. I will give one rule which I 
practised myself, with great benefit, some years ago, 
when in ill health. It is particularly applicable, and 
would prove highly beneficial, to students, invalids, 
and all who lead a sedentary life, and would not in- 
jure any one. It is this:—When you sit down to 
your meal, take upon your plate what your judgment 
dictates as a proper quantity, and all you intend to 
eat at that meal,—then eat that, and no more. 
Again, the laws of health are violated, as I have 
already intimated, by the use of too great variety at a 
meal. The common practice is, particulraly at din- 
ners, to have two or three courses,—the lirst to consist 
of meats, potatoes, bread, vegetables, gravies, pickles 
and condiments. And this certainly is variety enough 
for any one, and is as great as the laws of health will 
permit; and if the meal were made of this course 
alone, little harm would result, and the danger of 
over-eating would he small. But after this course 
has been finished, which has satiated the appetite, 
and furnished all the food the system requires for 
nutriment, then a second course is taken, of puddings, 
pies, fruits, preserves, etc., so flavored as to whet the 
appetite anew, and this second course—I might say 
second meal, is eaten with a zest equal to the first. 
Now this is all wrong. The system docs not require it, 
the stomach cannot digest it, and the practice will 
inevitably weaken the digestive powers, impair the MADE PLAIN. 
399 
Times for meals. 
health, and shorten life. If the first course is taken, 
the second should be omitted—if the second is eaten, 
the first should not be, for either will supply the amount 
of nutriment required, and is all the stomach can digest. 
I would here remark, that I wish it distinctly un- 
derstood, that what I have said relative to the quan- 
tity and quality of food, is not equally applicable to 
all classes. The laborer, who spends ten or twelve 
hours daily in vigorous bodily exercise, requires a 
much greater amount of food, and that which contains 
a greater percentage of nutriment, than the person of 
sedentary life. 
Fred.—Why so, Father? 
Father.—For the reason that the waste of the sys- 
tem is in proportion to its activity. In other words, 
the expenditure of nutriment is in proportion to the 
amount of bodily exercise taken; and, as with the 
laborer, the expenditure is greater than with others, 
the supply must be also. And in this, as in all other 
cases, when the demand and supply are equal, all is 
well. Hence the laborer seldom suffers with indi- 
gestion, and dietetic rules for him are less needed 
than for other portions of the community. 
TIMES OF ZE^TIUNTa-. 
Healthy digestion and nutrition require that special 
attention be paid to times of eating. Upon this sub- 
ject I should lie glad to say much, but time will per- 400 
TIIE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Times for meals. 
mit mo to say but little. I shall speak mostly of the 
principles by which we should be governed in regard 
to the times of taking meals, and shall say but little 
in detail, as it is impossible to prescribe definite rules 
which are equally applicable to all. 
The health, habits and employment of individuals, 
require that the intervals between meals should vary 
greatly. The laboring man, being subject to greater 
waste, will require both more frequent and more copi- 
ous meals than the sedentary and indolent man ; and 
those who eat but little at a time, should eat at shorter 
intervals than those who eat heavy meals. 
No definite or particular hours for eating has been 
fixed by nature, and these should be decided by mode 
of life, age, and constitution, the real wants of the 
system, as indicated by the appetite, being our guide, 
rather than any definite number of hours. 
In regard to intervals between meals, one important 
fact should be kept in mind, namely, that the stomach 
is a muscular organ, and, like all such, requires rest. 
It cannot be constantly employed in the important 
function of digestion, without fatigue and exhaustion. 
Intervals of rest are as necessary to the stomach, as 
to the limbs and other parts of the body. IIow long 
could you employ the hands in hard labor, or the 
limbs in walking, without rest ? 
Fred.—Not long certainly;—but the limbs rest 
during the night. Cannot the stomach do the same ? MADE PLAIN. 
401 
The stomach requires rest. 
Father.—It ought to be allowed to do so. It is 
what nature intended, and what the stomach requires. 
But from facts already cited, we see that many per- 
sons are employed during the day in imposing upon 
the stomach a burden, to dispose of which, requires 
its labor during the whole night;—and the sensation 
of fatigue and exhaustion with which such persons 
awake in the morning, is proof of the excessive labor 
it has performed. 
Frank.—Will you tell us, Father, how much rest 
the stomach requires, and the proper time for obtain- 
ing it? 
Father.—It should be allowed, at least, two hours 
for rest between meals, and also the greater part of 
the night. In a healthy stomach, a meal of proper 
quantity and quality, is digested in about four hours. 
Add to this two hours for rest, to enable the stomach 
to recover its tone before another meal is taken, and 
we have an interval of six hours between meals, which 
is a very proper period for persons in active life. For 
the indolent it should be longer,—while for an invalid, 
on a restricted diet, and for the young who are grow- 
ing fast, it should be shorter. No one should eat at 
stated hours, as a matter of course, whether the sys- 
tem require nourishment or not. As a general rule, 
no one should cat until the appetite indicates the need 
of food. 402 
• THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Hours for meals. 
HOURS FOR MEALS. 
The proper hours for the different meals, depends 
greatly on the mode of life and constitution of the 
individual. 
One or two hours should elapse after rising in the 
morning, before breakfast, and two or three after 
supper, before retiring to rest. If this be correct, it 
would be proper for the person who rises at five or 
half-past, to breakfast at seven, dine at one, take 
supper at six or seven, and retire to bed at nine or ten. 
As persons advance in years, the digestive function 
becomes enfeebled and sluggish. Consequently a 
longer time is required for digestion, and meals should 
be taken at greater intervals. For most persons fifty 
or sixty years of age, not engaged in active life, two 
meals a day is better than three,—the first, at eight 
or nine in the morning,—the second, at three or four 
in the afternoon. 
Change of employment, usually renders a change 
in diet necessary, both in the time of taking meals, 
and in the quantity and quality of food taken. Boys 
who leave the farm or the workshop, and girls the 
kitchen or cotton mill, for boarding-schools, should 
reduce the quantity of their food about one-half. It 
should also be of lighter quality, and taken at longer 
intervals. A failure to observe these rules, will 
sooner or later induce disease, and injure, if not 
ruin, the health and constitution. MADE PLAIN. 
403 
Comparative merits of animal and vegetable food. 
Fred.—I am greatly interested, Father, in this sub- 
ject. What you have said appears so reasonable that 
I can easily believe it all true. But you have not told 
us what kinds of food are most productive of health. 
I should think that must be an important consideration 
in diet. 
Father.—It certainly is, and I intended to speak 
upon the subject, if you had not named it. For the 
last thirty years there has been much said and written, 
in this country, upon the comparative merits and 
healthfulness of animal and vegetable food. About 
the commencement of the time I have named, Dr. 
Sylvester Graham, an able physiologist, and vigorous 
writer and lecturer, caused a great excitement upon 
the subject of vegetable diet. He took the position 
that no animal food should ever be used,—that voire- 
tables formed the only aliment suitable for man. 
This sentiment or theory did not, however, originate 
with Dr. Graham; it has had its advocates from the 
early ages of the world. But to him is due the credit 
of introducing the subject more fully to the attention 
of the American people, than any one who had pre- 
ceded him. 
Many embraced his views,—more in theory than 
practice,—and some have written and lectured much 
upon the subject. In justification of their theory, 
they quote the fact from the Bible, that vegetable food 
was what God originally designed for man, and that 404 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
What some writers say of animal food. 
ill liis primeval state of innocency, nothing else was 
needed. One writer considers the grant of animal 
lood to Noah, was only fitted to the degraded state of 
man after the flood. But it might very properly be 
inquired, if man was not as deeply degraded before 
the flood, while living on vegetable food, when "every 
imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil 
continually,” as he was after the flood, or has been at 
any subsequent period. Another writer, Dr. Cheyne, 
who lived about one hundred years ago, says, "Ani- 
mal food was never intended, but only permitted as a 
curse or punishment.” If that sentiment be correct, 
the inquiry might with propriety be made, why some 
kinds of animal food were granted, and others pro- 
hibited? If animal food was designed "as a curse,” 
the worse the quality, the more sure it was to accom- 
plish the object intended. 
Again, those who advocate a purely vegetable diet, 
refer to examples of great longevity and robust con- 
stitutions, among those who use such diet. They 
might also refer to cases, perhaps, equally remarkable, 
among the Esquimaux, and other northern savage 
tribes, who live mostly or wholly upon animal food, 
and that, too, often, which consists principally of the 
fat of the seal or the blubber of the whale. 
They also assert that "taking the life of an inoffen- 
sive and harmless animal, and feeding oil his flesh, is 
incompatible with a state of innocence and purity.” MADE PLAIN. 
405 
The grant of animal food. 
But is it not a sufficient answer to such an assertion, 
to say, that the grant of animal food was from God, 
and that he knew both the wants of man, and what 
was " compatible with innocence and purity —and 
would a holy and pure being, who requires purity in 
man, have given for food, what he knew was "incom- 
patible with innocence and purity?” 
Fred.—You tell us, Father, what others say upon 
the subject, but you do not say what your own belief 
is. Do you think animal food should be used, or 
should we live on vegetable diet ? 
Father.—I will tell you frankly, my children, what 
my sentiments are upon this important subject. I 
have carefully studied, and duly cousidcred, the ar- 
guments and facts, for and against the use of animal 
food, with a desire to arrive at the truth. But I have 
not yet become satisfied that it would be for the pro- 
motion of health, or for man’s best interest in any 
sense, to dispense entirely with animal food. I believe 
that a moderate quantity of the right kind or sort of 
it, in connection with the right kinds of vegetable food, 
is best for most persons in health, and often in sick- 
ness, or when recovering from sickness. Mind you, 
Isa y the rigid sort! But the great trouble is, man 
abuses this, like all other of God’s gifts. In accord- 
ance with the views I have expressed, relative to the 
use of animal food, are the statements of that dis- 
tinguished scholar and commentator, Dr. Adam Claike. 406 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Animal food necessary since the flood. 
In his comments on Gen. ix. 3, he says, " There is no 
positive evidence that animal food was ever used be- 
fore the flood. Noah had the first grant of this kind, 
and it has been continued to all his posterity ever 
since. It is not likely that this grant would have 
been now made if some extraordinary alteration had 
not taken place in the vegetable world, so as to ren- 
der its productions less nutritive than they were 
before ; and probably such a change in the constitu- 
tion of man as to render a grosser and higher diet 
necessary. We may therefore safely infer that the 
earth was less productive after the flood than it was 
before, and that the human constitution was greatly 
impaired by the alterations which had taken place 
through the whole economy of nature. Morbid de- 
bility, induced by an often unfriendly state of the 
atmosphere, with sore and long-continued labor, 
would necessarily require a higher nutriment than 
vegetables could supply. That this was the case 
appears sufficiently clear from the grant of animal 
food, which, had it not been indispensably necessary, 
had not been made. That the constitution of mar 
was then much altered appears in the greatly contract- 
ed lives of the post diluvians.” Such an opinion, 
from such a man, is entitled to consideration. 
God has designated what kinds of animals, fish, 
and fowl or birds, are good for food;—(See Deut. 
shap. xiv). But man, instead of confining himself to MADE PLAIN. 
407 
The prohibition disregarded. 
a reasonable quantity of the kinds God has designated 
as suitable, has run into the excessive use of almost 
all sorts of abominable filth, under the name of animal 
food. 
Now to such license, no one has a greater abhorrence 
than myself. And I think, in civilized communities, 
the greatest error and abuse, relative to the grant of 
animal food, is in the use of vast quantities of swine’s 
flesh,—called pork. I fully believe it is not fit for 
man to eat,—that it renders the blood impure, and 
causes a vast amount of disease. And God has said 
by Moses, " Ye shall not eat their flesh, nor touch 
their dead carcass.” 
Yet notwithstanding this positive prohibition, and 
with the assurance that "they arc unclean unto you,” 
even Christian communities feed upon "their dead 
carcass ” with as little scruple, and as much zest, as if 
God had made a special gift of it to man. I believe 
those kinds of animals which God has designated as 
proper.for food, are the only ones man can use with 
safety and profit, namely, those which " divide the 
hoof and chew the cud,” and those " fish which have 
fins and scales.” 
Fred.—But why should animals that chew the cud 
and divide the hoof, be granted to man for food, and 
all others prohibited? Is the flesh of such different 
in quality from the flesh of all other animals, or docs 
God allow the use of some, and prohibit that of others, 
simply because he has a right to do so ? 408 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Why some animals are granted and others prohibited. 
Father.—It is true that God is a sovereign, and has 
a right to say what his rational creatures shall, or shall 
not do. But while he is a sovereign, he is also "our 
Father,” and never acts without a cause, and that cause 
is always the dictate of wisdom and goodness. We 
may, therefore, rest assured, that both the grant and 
the prohibition were made in reference to man’s great- 
est physical, mental and moral good. In all his acts 
relating to man, God keeps in view the best interest 
of both soul and body. Although we cannot com- 
prehend it, we know there is a close connection exist- 
ing between the body and soul, and that great moral 
changes take place in the mind in consequence of the 
influence of.the body upon it, and this influence de- 
pends greatly upon the aliment upon which the body 
subsists. God knowing what is best for man, and 
also the quality of the flesh of the different kinds of 
animals he has made, has wisely and graciously forbid- 
en what would injure both body and mind, and has 
allowed what is useful to both. 
Fred.—It is doubtless so, Father, but I wish to ask 
why the flesh of animals that chew the cud is more 
healthful food than that of other animals ? 
Father.—Two very satisfactory reasons may be 
given, 1st. Animals which chew the cud, or ruminate, 
subsist upon grass, grain and vegetables. 2d. Rumi- 
nating animals are provided with two, three or four 
stomachs. The ox, which term includes all animals MADE PLAIN. 
409 
Why one kind of flesh affords a pure aliment, and another impure. 
of the beef kind,—the cow, heifer and calf, is pro- 
vided with four, each of which serves a definite and 
important purpose in the process of digestion, the 
food, receiving the successive action of each stomach, 
is thoroughly macerated and digested, affording the 
greatest possible amount of the purest chyle or nutri- 
tive juices. And flesh formed from such nutriment 
must be pure, digestible, and nutritious, and free from 
all taint of disease, and consequently suitable food 
for man. 
An eminent scholar and divine, speaking of the dif- 
ferent kinds of animals granted to man for food, says, 
" The flesh of these animals is universally allowed to 
be the most wholesome and nutritive. They live on 
the very best of vegetables ; and having several stom- 
achs, their food is well concocted, and the chyle 
formed from it is the most pure because the best elabo- 
rated, as it is well refined before it enters the blood.” 
Not so with the animals prohibited as food. The 
swine, for instance, is one of the most filthy and glut- 
tonous animals on earth. It will live and fatten upon 
the grossest and most impure food, such as the butch- 
er’s offal, carrion, etc., and it wallows in the most 
disgusting filth. 
Now, who can believe that the flesh of such an ani- 
mal can afford pure and healthful nutriment Tor man? 
God has said, " It is unclean unto you,”—that is, it 
affords a gross and impure aliment, such as is adapted 410 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Why one kind of fish, and not another, is good for food. 
to render the blood impure, and produce scrofulous, 
scorbutic and cutaneous diseases. 
The same reasons exist for the grant of those kinds 
of "fish for food, which have fins and scales,” and 
the prohibition of those which have not. Of all the 
fish tribe, those with scales are the most nourishing, 
and afford the purest nutriment, while the flesh of those 
without scales, consists largely of fatty, glutinous mat- 
ter, which is very difficult of digestion, and if digested, 
forms an impure and inferior quality of nutriment. 
I should advise the total disuse, by all classes, of 
pork and lard. I am sure a great improvement in 
the health and vigor of both body and mind, would 
follow. I. doubt not the use of pork is a fruitful 
cause of scrofula, with which so large a portion of 
the people of this country are afflicted. 
Frank.—I believe all you have said, Father, about 
pork, and I will never eat it again. Yet pork is 
agreeable and pleasant to the taste. 
Father.—So perhaps is the flesh of dogs and horses ; 
but if it is, should we make that a justifiable reason 
for eating it ? 
Frank.—By no means ! But what kinds of animal 
food are best, and most healthful ? 
Father.—Beef and mutton are the principal articles, 
to which may bo added veal, lamb, poultry, and some 
kinds of venison, particularly the deer. But I wish 
to be fully understood upon the subject of animal food. MADE PLAIN. 
411 
Animal food should be used moderately. 
I do not advocate a free and indiscriminate use of it. 
On the contrary, I think its use should be moderate 
in all cases, and in some it should be entirely dispensed 
with. That too much animal food, even of therightsort, 
is used, I have not a doubt. It would be better for the 
community, especially for those of sedentary life, if 
the quantity was greatly diminished. The latter should 
use it but once a day, and then with moderation, while 
the laboring man may use it to profit, twice a day. 
The quantity used by all classes should be less in 
summer than winter. It should be cooked in the most 
simple manner,—either boiled, roasted or broiled, and 
seasoned with salt only, and eaten with potatoes, 
bread, rice, etc. 
Mary.—Are berries and fruits healthful, Father? 
Father.—They are, if eaten as nature formed them, 
without sugar, cream, etc. The healthful proportions 
of acid and sweet, which exist in fruits in their natural 
state, are destroyed by the addition of sugar or any 
saccharine principle, and then they ferment in the stom- 
ach and produce acidity, which causes flatulency, and 
often disease of the stomach and bowels. The crcat 
O 
trouble in the use of most of our food is, we wish to 
improve upon nature, and are not satisfied to take it 
in the simple, healthy proportions of the elements 
of which nature has formed it. We compound and 
mix together, articles totally dissimilar in their nature, 
uutil the qualities of each arc so blended with those 412 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH. 
The art of cooking, an evil. 
of others, that the individual taste and properties are 
lost, and a mass is formed, which, although pleasant 
to the taste, is difficult of digestion and ruinous of 
health. 
The art of cooking, is based mostly upon the prin- 
ciple of compounding numerous articles into one dish, 
and thereby rendering them indigestible, and conse- 
quently innutritions. The present mode of cooking 
in fashionable hotels, boarding-houses, and not a few 
families, I regard as an unmitigated evil, so far as 
health and happiness are concerned. Instead of sur- 
prise that so few in such circles are healthy, the 
wonder is that any are healthy, and that all are not 
confirmed dyspeptics, or gloomy hypochondriacs. 
Well would it be for the world, if the simple methods 
of the ancients, in preparing food by baking unleav- 
ened bread on the hearth, and roasting meat by .the 
fire, should take the place of the present art of form- 
ing otherwise healthy articles, into health and life- 
destroying compounds. 
The American people, particularly the female por- 
tion, are fast becoming a feeble, puny race. They 
arc not what their ancestors were, and are yearly 
becoming more and more enervated, and will continue 
to do so, until they are taught to observe, and actu- 
ally do obey the laws of their physical being,—laws 
as fixed and immutable as those which hold the earth 
in its orbit, or sustain the sun in the firmament. CONVERSATION XXYI. 
HYGIENE. 
Causes of disease and decay of the teeth considered—De- 
cayed TEETH INJURIOUS TO HEALTH—DIRECTIONS FOR PRESERVING 
THE TEETH TEMPERATURE—SUDDEN CHANGES DETRIMENTAL TO 
health—Occupation—Some occupations favorable, others 
UNFAVORABLE TO HEALTH OCCUPATION SHOULD BE ADAPTED TO 
THE TASTE, CONSTITUTION, ETC. OLD AGE—THE INFIRMITIES OF 
AGE CONSIDERED—TOBACCO AND ARDENT SPIRITS—ThEIR EFFECTS 
CONSIDERED—PHYSIOLOGY AND HYGIENE SHOULD HOLD A PROMI- 
NENT PLACE IN SCHOOL INSTRUCTION. 
Father.—My children,—there are a few other sub- 
jects relative to the laws of health, upon which I wish 
to give you instruction at the present interview, and 
this will conclude this series of conversations. At our 
last meeting I spoke upon digestion and the conditions 
necessary to its being faithfully performed, one of the 
most important of which is, the thorough mastication 
of the food. And as the teeth are the instruments 
which perform that important office, and as disease 
and decay of the teeth, which disqualify them for the 
duty, are so common,—I might say almost universal, 414 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Decayed teeth often the cause of ill health. 
I wish to direct your attention for a few moments, to 
the subject. 
It is a serious fact, one worthy the consideration of 
the public, that much of the disease of the stomach, 
bowels, lungs, and the general impurities of the blood 
which are the fruitful cause of a great variety of dis- 
eases, have tlicir origin in a diseased and decayed 
condition of the teeth. I feel the more desirous to 
give instruction upon this subject, from the fact that 
neither you nor the community in general, seem to 
possess very correct and definite knowledge in ref- 
erence to it. 
Fred.—We shall be very glad, Father, to have in- 
struction upon so important a subject. I have noticed 
that almost every body has more or less decayed 
teeth, and even very small children, and some times 
infants lose their teeth. Can you tell us the cause? 
Father.—It does certainly seem very strange, that 
so important organs as the teeth, which doubtless 
were designed to last during life, should so soon decay ; 
and especially that decay should commence, as you 
say, in infancy and childhood,—for such is often the 
case. There must be a cause for this, which I think 
is not generally understood. 
Frank.—Will you please tell us what it is? 
Father.—The cause is doubtless somewhat ob- 
scure, but I will state a few things which may aid, in 
some degree, to solve the problem. Much depends MALE PLAIN. 
415 
Cause of early decay of teeth. 
upon the health of the child or infant, at the formative 
period of the teeth. One that is sickly during the 
time the teeth are forming, usually has those which 
are easily impaired. The decay of the temporary 
teeth in young children, is owing to a state or condi- 
tion of the blood, in which the materials that form the 
bony structure are deficient in quantity or deteriorated 
in quality. Hence the teeth which are formed when 
the blood is ill this condition, are imperfect in struc- 
ture, and unable to resist the action of corrosive agents 
to which they are exposed, as those do, the bony mat- 
ter of which is received from pure, healthy blood. 
But this early decay of the teeth is not always the 
result of a sickly, diseased state of the*child;—it is 
often hereditary, like many other diseases of which I 
spoke in a previous conversation. 
This view is fully sustained by the most able den- 
tists. Prof. C. A. Harris, in his work on dentistry, 
says, "The teeth of the child, like other parts of the 
body, are apt to resemble those of its parents, so that 
when those of the father or mother arc bad or irregu- 
larly arranged, a similar imperfection will generally 
be found to exist in those of the offspring.” 
"The teeth of the child, therefore, may be said to 
depend upon the health of the mother and the aliment 
from which it derives its subsistence. If the mother 
be healthy and the nourishment that is given the child 
be of good quality, its teeth will be dense and compact 416 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
'Cause of decay of the milk teeth often hereditary. 
in their texture, generally well formed and well ar- 
ranged, and, as a consequence, less liable to be acted 
on by morbid impressions than those of children of 
unhealthy mothers, or that subsist upon aliment of a 
bad quality.” 
M. Mason, a French dentist, remarks, "Docs the 
child derive its life from parents that are unhealthy ? 
The enamel of the milk teeth will be bad; the teeth 
themselves will be surcharged with a bluish vapor, 
and in a short time will be corrupted by humid and 
putrifying caries (ulcers). When the parents are only 
weakly or delicate, the enamel of the primary (first) 
teeth will have a bluish appearance, there will be a 
tendency in them to dry caries, which does not ordi- 
narily make much progress, and seldom causes pain.” 
"The teeth, while in a pulpy (soft or forming) 
state, partake of the health of the organism generally. 
As that is healthy and strong, or unhealthy and weak, 
so will the elementary principles of which they are 
composed be deteriorated or of good quality.” 
Fred.—What remedy is there for this early, hered- 
itary disease and decay of the teeth ? 
Father.—None whatever. In this, as in other 
cases I have named, the children suffer for the viola- 
tion of the laws of health by the parent; and nothing 
the child can do, or that can be done for it, can avert 
the penalty. Hence the responsibility resting upon 
parents ; for, not only their own health, but the health MADE PLAIN. 
417 
Cause of decay of the permanent teeth. 
and well-being of their offspring depend upon their 
obedience to the laws of health. 
But when decay of the teeth is the result of ill 
health of the child, the remedy consists in the res- 
toration of the health, together with the treatment 
and care of the teeth which I shall soon prescribe. 
Frank.—I understand your explanation of the cause 
of the decay of the first set of teeth; but what can 
cause the decay of the permanent teeth ? 
Father.—The want of cleanliness in allowing an 
accumulation of extraneous matter and corroding in- 
crustations upon the teeth. Also powerful mineral 
medicines, acting chemically, thus destroying and 
breaking up their texture,—and acrid filth in the 
mouth caused by a foul state of the stomach, which 
becomes concentrated and deposited upon the teeth. 
These accumulations, and many other corrosive causes, 
are sure to take place, unless due preventive means 
be used. 
Dr. F. E. Bond, has the following upon this sub- 
ject. " The enamel and even the bony structure of 
the teeth are acted upon very readily by many acids, 
both vegetable and mineral, which combine with the 
earthy base, lime, and form new compounds with it, 
breaking up, of course, the integrity of the organ. 
The enamel is a crystalline mineral substance, and 
possesses no vital organization, consequently it is 
quite as liable to be acted upon by chemical agents 418 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Reasons why decayed teeth injure the health. 
while in its normal place, as it would be when sepa- 
rated from the body. It is therefore very easy to 
perceive that this external defence of the tooth mey 
be very easily penetrated, and the ivory of the organ 
laid open to the action of alimentary matter and fluids 
of the mouth. It is from this cause that what is called 
varies results.” 
Dr. Brewster, of Paris, says, "Constitutional soft- 
ness of the teeth ; the use of medicines during denti- 
tion or in after life; the too free use of acids, which, 
uniting with the lime in the enamel, destroys its 
strength.” And these, he regards, as the principal 
causes of the decay of teeth. 
Fred.—You say, Father, that disease and decay of 
the teeth cause disease of the stomach and lungs, 
and an impure state of the blood. How are these 
effects produced? 
Father.—The disease of the stomach called dys- 
pepsia, may be, and often is, produced, by the ina- 
bility of the teeth, when diseased, to thoroughly mas- 
ticate the food; and also by taking into the stomach 
with the food, acrid and putrid matter discharged from 
carious teeth, and from ulcers in the gums. And the 
blood -is rendered impure by the absorption of this 
putrid matter, with the chyle, by the lacteals. 
Fred.—I perceive that the stomach and blood may 
become affected in this way. But how can disease of 
the teeth affect the lungs? MADE PLAIN. 
419 
Neuralgia caused by decayed teeth. 
Father.—The heat and moisture in the mouth, will 
always cause the putrefaction of any extraneous mat- 
ter which is permitted to lodge upon or between the 
teeth, causing a fetid breath, and imparting an infec- 
tious taint to the air as it passes through the mouth 
to the lungs. In this way the lungs may become af- 
fected by disease of the teeth, and consumption may 
be the result. 
Neuralgia often originates in diseased teeth and ul- 
cerated roots. And when neuralgia of the face exists, 
the teeth should be thoroughly examined, and all roots 
and parts of decayed teeth should be removed, as 
they often cause the trouble when no suspicion of the 
fact exists. But great care should be taken, not to 
extract, through mistake, sound, healthy teeth, and 
thereby suffer the loss, without relief of the pain. 
DIRECTION'S FOR -piRESEENTIISra- THE 
TEETH. 
No part of man’s organism, perhaps, requires more 
constant and unremitting care, to keep it in a healthy 
condition, than the teeth, and, sad to say, no part 
receives so little, at least from a large portion of the 
community. A great error exists in regard to the 
time when care for the teeth should commence. I 
refer to the sentiment so common, that the temporary 
teeth, as they are soon to be displaced by the perma- 
nent, are of trifling consequence, and that it matters 
little whether they remain sound and healthy until THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Disease of the first set of teeth injure the second. 
removed by the second set, or become blackened by 
disease, and crumble to pieces long before the perma- 
nent teeth make their appearance. This error is pro- 
ductive of much mischief, for, by the decay of the 
temporary teeth, the gum often becomes ulcerated, 
the living membrane inflamed, giving rise to abcess 
of the socket or alveolar process, by which portions 
of the jaw-bone are destroyed, which exfoliate or scale 
off, and thus the diseased socket of the temporary 
teeth, causes disease and decay of the permanent. 
Again, the new teeth, which are situated immediately 
beneath the root of the temporary, may receive 
much injury, before they appear in sight, by contact 
with the latter while in a diseased condition. Dr. 
Harris remarks, "The decay and premature loss of 
the temporary teeth constitutes one of the most 
frequent causes of irregularity in the arrangement of 
the permanent, and, if for no other reason than the 
prevention of this, their preservation, if possible 
should be secured until they are removed by the econ- 
omy to give place to their successors.” 
In addition to the causes I have named, of disease 
of the temporary teeth, much results from inattention’ 
to their cleanliness. 
" The particles of food and other extraneous matter 
that lodge between the teeth and interstices, and along 
the edges of the gums, if permitted to remain, soon 
undergo a chemical decomposition, and become a MADE PLAIN. 
421 
Means of preserving the teeth. 
source of irritation to the latter, vitiating the secre- 
tions of the mouth, and rendering them prejudicial to 
the former. 
" As the debay of the teeth is dependent upon the 
presence of vitiated, acrid and corrosive matter, the 
means of its prevention are obvious. It consists in 
frequent and thorough cleanliness, which, to be effec- 
tual, should be commenced as soon as the first teeth 
appear.” 
The best means for cleansing the teeth, is the use of 
a brush and pure water, with the addition of a tooth 
pick for youths and adults. The brush should be 
used on rising in the morning, and after each meal. 
For the infant or child, the brush should be soft, for 
the adult it should be of medium stiffness. The brush 
should be passed up and down, or lengthwise of the 
teeth, as well as across. The water should be tepid 
—neither cold nor hot. The tooth pick should be 
formed from a goose quill, not from metallic substances, 
and should be used immediately after each meal, that 
the particles of food lodged between the teeth may bo 
removed before a chemical change takes place, which 
renders it corrosive. 
The use, a» I have described, of the tooth pick, 
the brush and a plenty of water, will usually, if the 
health be good, prevent all accumulation of tartar and 
other corrosives, which decompose and destroy the 
teeth. Too much cannot be done for the cleanliness 422 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Duties of the dentist. 
of the teeth, or too great care be taken to preserve 
them from decay. But owing to hereditary or other 
causes, some teeth will decay, notwithstanding every 
effort be made to preserve them. In such cases re- 
course should be had to the services of a faithful, 
honest and skilful dentist; for, honest faithfulness is 
the most important characteristic that should mark 
the dentist. And the most important part of his 
practice is the filling and plugging of carious teeth, 
which, if done skilfully and faithfully, will often pre- 
serve them for many years, but if carelessly and un- 
skilfully performed, will do more harm than good. 
If through neglect of cleanliness, the teeth have 
become incrusted with tartar, and the gums tender, 
sore or ulcerated, the incrustations should be removed 
by the dentist, in doing which care should be taken 
not to injure the enamel; after which the tooth pick 
and brush should be used as I have directed, to pre- 
vent a recurrence of the unhealthy accumulations. 
Persons whose teeth are subject to decay, should have 
them carefully examined by a dentist two or three 
times a year, for the purpose of having the attention 
bestowed upon them, necessary to their preservation.* 
TEMPERA.TURE- 
The natural temperature of the body, as I have 
tdready informed you, is about ninety-eight degrees. 
* A work on the teeth, entitled “Facts for the People,” by F. D. Thompson. 
D. 1>. S., should be in every family. MADE PLAIN. 
423 
Changes of temperature should be gradual. 
This is the healthy standard, which cannot be essen- 
tially changed without detriment,—although the body 
is capable of enduring great vicissitudes of tempera- 
ture, if the change be gradual, and not too long con- 
tinued. Indeed, the changes from summer to winter, 
and winter to summer, are as essential to the body, 
to render it healthy and vigorous, as to the soil, to 
prepare it for vegetation. It is the sudden transition 
from heat to cold, or a too long exposure, that 
endangers health and life. 
The system is capable, as I have said, of enduring 
a great degree of cold, if gradually brought under 
its influence, but a sudden application of cold, es- 
pecially if the body be in a state of perspiration, is 
fraught with danger. By closing the pores, perspira- 
ble matter is retained, which becomes a source of irri- 
tation and disease. As a sensible writer remarks,— 
" There is no change throughout nature more perni- 
cious, either to animal or vegetable bodies, than from 
extreme heat to intense cold, or from freezing to 
sudden thawing. Hence it has been observed, that 
irritating coughs are never so prevalent as when there 
are sudden alterations of the weather, and when the 
air, after having been cold, suddenly becomes warm 
and damp, and after that assumes a considerable de- 
gree of coldness again. These transitions occasion a 
smaller quantity of matter to be thrown off by perspi- 
ration, and the lodgment of a greater proportion of 424 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Danger of sudden change of temperature. 
fluids upon the internal parts, which become loaded 
and obstructed; hence catarrhs, diarrhoea, dysentery 
and many other diseases.” 
When an ordinary change of temperature is made 
gradually, such is the constitution of the healthy 
human frame, that it boars it with impunity; but 
when it takes place rapidly, danger arises proportioned 
to the suddenness of the change. Every change of 
temperature alfects our bodies, therefore due precau- 
tion should be taken for the prevention of a sudden 
check of perspiration when the body has been heated. 
All sudden transitions from one extreme to another, 
as I have said, should be avoided. No person, during 
very warm weather, and when the body is greatly 
heated, should go into an ice-house, cellar, or cold 
bath, nor sit on cold stones or damp ground. Colds, 
rheumatism, consumption, and many diseases of a 
severe and dangerous character have been produced 
by such imprudence, and even sudden death has been 
the consequence. 
No one should ever sit in a current of air, especially 
while in a state of perspiration; and the laboring 
man, whenever he ceases labor, even for a short period, 
should resume the clothing he had laid aside during 
active exercise. 
Fred.—I never before realized that so much de- 
pended upon the right temperature of our bodies, and 
that sudden changes were so dangerous. MADE PLAIN. 
425 
Importance of right choice of occupation. 
OCCUPATION. 
Father.—When young persons are about to make 
choice of a profession or occupation for life, it becomes 
a very serious question what that occupation shall be, 
for upon that choice depends, in a great measure, their 
health, happiness, usefulness and prosperity through 
life. While some employments are productive of 
health, and consequently of cheerfulness and elasticity 
of spirits, others exert a baneful influence upon both 
body and mind. 
Fred.—Will you please tell us, Father, what occu- 
pations are injurious to, and what productive of 
health ? 
Father.—All sedentary employments, particularly 
those which require persons to continue long in one 
position, with but little motion of the body, as that of 
tailors, shoe-makers, etc., are necessarily detrimental 
to health. 
Some occupations are rendered unhealthy by the 
air being impregnated with deleterious matters, which 
are taken into the lungs, and either mingle with the 
blood, or prove a source of irritation to the mucous 
membrane of the bronchial tubes and air-cells ;—such 
is the employment of stone-cutters, type-founders, 
printers, chemists, millers, forgers, miners, glass- 
blowers, painters, gilders, manfacturers of lead, etc. 
As to the learned professions, as they are called, Law, 
Medicine and Divinity, there is little to choose, so far 426 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
The most healthy occupations. 
as bodily health is concerned;—perhaps that of the 
physician and the clergy are the most unfavorable to 
health, on account of the great exposure of the former 
in the practice of his profession, and of the constant 
mental labor, and over exertion of the lungs in public 
speaking, of the latter. 
The most healthful occupations are those which re- 
quire exercise in the open air, such as farming, gar- 
dening, building, surveying, engineering, etc. Agri- 
cultural pursuits stand pre-eminent, so far as the pro- 
motion of health is concerned. 
" Cultivating the ground is every way conducive to 
health. It not only gives exercise to every part of 
the body, but the very smell of the earth and fresh 
herbs revives and cheers the spirits, while the per- 
petual prospect of something coming to maturity, 
delights and entertains the mind. We are so formed 
as to be always pleased with somewhat in prospective, 
however distant or trivial; hence the happiness that 
most men feel in planting, sowing, building, etc. 
These seem to have been the chief employment of the 
more early ages; and, when kings and conquerors 
cultivated the ground, there is reason to believe that 
they knew as well wherein true happiness consisted 
as we do.” 
Exercise without doors, in some way, is absolutely 
necessary to health. Those who neglect it, though 
they may for a while drag out life, cannot be said to MADE PLAIN. 
427 
Bad effects of constant and intense study. 
enjoy it. Weak and effeminate, they languish for a 
few years, and then pass to an untimely grave. 
Intense and constant study, is, perhaps, more dis- 
astrous to health than any other employment. It 
always implies a sedentary life, and the want of ex- 
ercise joined to intense thinking, must always he 
injurious to health. 
Close application to study, for only a few months, 
will sometimes ruin a good constitution, by inducing 
nervous complaints which can never be removed. 
Continued thinking will as soon wear out the system 
as perpetual labor. The whole vital motions may bo 
accelerated or retarded to almost any degree, by the 
power of the mind,—so great is its influence over the 
body. Thus, cheerfulness and mirth, quicken the 
circulation and promote all the secretions ; while sad- 
ness and profound thought, are sure to retard them. 
Thinking, like every thing else, when carried to 
excess, becomes a vice ; and nothing affords a greater 
proof of wisdom than for a man frequently to unbend 
his mind by mixing in cheerful company, active diver- 
sions, and a change of scenery. 
Merchants, clerks, and indeed all classes of citizens 
who reside in large cities, and are much confined dur- 
ing the day, should rise very early, and walk or ride 
into the country as often as possible. 
Parents should select for their children that occu- 
pation or profession to which they are best adapted 428 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Erroneous sentiments in regard to old age. 
by their natural temperament, ‘taste, and general con- 
stitution of body and mind; and the education of the 
child should have direct reference to the calling se- 
lected. Thousands who die in shops, schools, and 
colleges, if educated to agriculture or the mechanic 
arts, would have benefited and blessed the world by 
long and useful lives. 
OLD -A-Gr-E. 
Fred.—I fully agree with all you have said, Father, 
and I believe health is the greatest earthly blessing 
we can enjoy, and without it life can hardly be con- 
sidered a favor. But I wish to ask if you think old 
age is a blessing ? Is it desirable to live to be old ? 
Father.—What a question, my son! Pray what 
suggested to your mind such a query ? 
Fred.—I have heard it remarked, that the infirmi- 
ties of age are such, and the sufferings consequent 
upon it so great, that after a man has arrived at seventy 
years, he is better dead than alive. 
Father.—I regard that as a very erroneous and per- 
nicious sentiment. It is true that many in old age 
suffer from debility and disease. But as a general 
rule, the infirmities of ago, as they are called, are the 
results of the excesses and irregularities of youth and 
middle age. They are the deferred execution of a 
violated law, for, as I have previously told you, it is 
impossible to violate any of the laws God has estab- MADE PLAIN. 
429 
Sufferings of the aged the results of early violated law. 
lished, without suffering the penalty,—although the 
execution of the penalty may be, and often is long 
postponed. By violating the laws of health in early 
life, the seeds of disease are deeply sown in the con- 
stitution, which, dormant, but not dead, germinate in 
old age, and bring forth a copious harvest of suffering 
and sorrow. The violation may long have been for- 
gotten by the offender, but stern justice keeps the 
record, and ere long the penalty is executed. 
This, my children, is the principal cause of the dis- 
eases and sufferings of the aged. But these facts are 
disregarded by the young, and of them it may be said 
in the language of inspiration, "Because sentence 
against an evil work is not executed speedily, there- 
fore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them 
to do evil.” 
Fred.—I would like to know what proof there is 
that the infirmities of age are the effects of wrong 
doing in early life. It seems strange to me that the 
nalty of a violated law should be deferred so long. 
vVTy is it not " executed speedily ? ” 
Father.—Because "God is long suffering.” "He 
waits to be gracious ” in a physical, as well as moral 
sense. lie has endowed our bodies with the power 
ff enduring the effects of the violation of the laws of 
health for many years, and if we timely repent and re- 
form, although the health may have been greatly im- 
paired, the recuperative force or vital power, in many 430 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
The case of a man one hundred and seven years of age. 
cases, repairs the damage and restores the health. 
But if this violation be persistent, old age pays the 
penalty, unless premature death cuts short the life of 
the offender. 
I might cite numerous cases in proof of the fact, 
that men, by violating the laws of health, have brought 
upon themselves disease and suffering, but when death 
stared them in the face, they recoiled from his grasp, 
and reformed their lives, and by ceasing to violate the 
laws of life, were restored to health, and lived to great 
age in the possession of vigor of both body and mind. 
But I will present one case only, which was related 
by Sir Richard Jebb, late physician to the Royal 
Family. A particular and very intelligent friend of 
his, who was about fifty years of age, by excessive 
living, brought on a train of infirmities which had 
made great inroads in his constitution, and had in- 
duced various disorders, such as colic, gout, spasms, 
etc., and continued slow fevers ; and so wretched was 
he that he only hoped for death to end his pain am1 
sufferings. 
In this condition he consulted Sir Richard, who 
prescribed for him an exact course of temperance and 
exercise, by duly attending to which he recovered i 
sound and perfect state of health. 
The following arc his own words at the age of out' 
hundred and seven years. 
. "When,” says he. "I resolved firmly to live a tern- MADE PLAIN. 
431 
The statements of an aged man. 
perate life, I soon found myself entirely freed from 
all my complaints, and have continued so even to this 
day. I am now convinced that we should consider a 
regular life as a physician, since it preserves us in 
health, makes us live sound and hearty to a great age, 
and prevents us dying of sickness through a corrup- 
tion of humors. I am now as well as ever I was in 
my life, (and perhaps better), I even now relish every 
enjoyment of life better than when I was young. I 
sleep every night soundly and quietly, and all my 
dreams are pleasant and agreeable. 
"The surest way is to embrace sobriety. What I 
call a regular and sober life is, not to eat and drink 
such things as disagree with the stomach, nor to eat 
or drink more than the stomach can easily digest. 
"Some will say that a sober life may indeed keep a 
man in health, but cannot prolong life. This I know 
to be false, for I am myself a living instance of it. 
Oh ! what a difference have I found between a regular 
and an irregular life ; one gives health and longevity, 
the other disease and untimely death. I am now, at 
the age of one hundred and seven years, hearty and 
happy, eating with a good appetite and sleeping 
soundly. My senses are likewise as good as ever they 
were, my understanding as clear and bright as ever, 
my judgment is sound, my memory tenacious, my 
spirits good, and my voice strong and sonorous. 
"I likewise enjoy the satisfaction of conversing with 432 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
An interesting and instructive case. 
men of bright parts and superior understanding, from 
whom, even at this advanced age, I learn something. 
"What a pleasure and comfort it is that, at my time 
of life, I should be able, without the least fatigue, to 
study the most important subjects, nor is it possible 
that any one should grow tired of such delightful en- 
joyments, which every one else might enjoy by only 
leading the life I have led.” 
Now tell me, my children, do you think this old 
gentleman was unhappy in consequence of age, and 
that the the thirty-seven years of his life, (the number 
exceeding seventy) was void of enjoyment, and of no 
value ? 
Fred.—I feel a deep interest, Father, in the aged 
gentleman you have introduced to us. It must have 
been delightful to see a man of his age so cheerful and 
happy, and relishing so fully, all the rational enjoy- 
ments of life. This one case is enough to prove that* 
there is no truth in what I have so often hearef stated, 
—that old ago is a worthless period of life, devoid of 
all enjoyment, and filled with sorrow and suffering. 
Father.—This man’s history is very interesting and 
instructive. It very forcibly illustrates the truth that 
I have been teaching you,—that health depends wholly 
upon obedience to the laws that control it,—that pain 
and disease arc always a penalty for the violation of 
those laws. 
Let us briefly review his history. Sir Richard MADE PLAIN. 
433 
Effects of wrong doing—a resolve to reform. 
Jebb, the physician who relates it, begins by saying, 
" This friend of mine was extremely partial to what 
is called good living;”—that is, eating and drinking 
to gratify the taste regardless of consequences. The 
result was, at the age of fifty years, "a train of in- 
firmities had made great inroads in his constitution,” 
—gout and other diseases racked him with constant 
pain, and he looked forward to death as the only 
means of relief. What a picture ! The culprit, who 
disregarded and violated the laws of his being, is now 
writhing under the infliction of the penalty, and look- 
ing to death for relief. Poor man ! But his is not a 
solitary case. Thousands to-day are travelling the 
same road, and will arrive at the same goal, unless, 
like him, they reform their lives. We have consid- 
ered the dark shades of this picture,—violated law 
with its results—disease and suffering. Let us now 
turn to the bright side,—obedience to law, and note 
its results. 
He says, "I resolved firmly to live a temperate 
life.” This was a right beginning,—a firm resolve to 
reform,—just what God requires—to " cease to do evil 
and learn to do well.” The penitent was pardoned. 
Obedience to God’s laws gave relief from pain, and 
brought health, happiness, and long. life. When he 
ceased to sin, he ceased to suffer. 
Such, however, is not always the case. The vital 
powers may become so exhausted by long continued 434 
THE LAWS OE HEALTH 
Tobacco and ardent spirits. 
violation of physical law, that reaction may never 
take place. In such cases the cessation of wrong 
doing is of no avail. The reactive forces, once ex- 
hausted, can never be restored. Like the soldier, 
mortally wounded on the field of battle, the violator 
of physical law lingers for a while, and dies;—but 
not like the soldier, by the hand of an enemy;—his 
own hand inflicts the fatal blow,—he dies self-assas- 
sinated. 
Before closing our present interview, I intended to 
speak upon several other subjects relating to the laws 
of health,—especially the use of that poisonous, filthy, 
breath-polluting, health-destroying, disease-produc- 
ing, nerve-prostrating and soul-paralyzing article— 
Tobacco ;—and its coadjutor,—Ardent Spirit; but 
I have time to say but a few words. 
The amount of health destroyed, poverty and 
wretchedness produced, money and time wasted, by 
the use of these articles, can never be computed in 
time, and can be known only in eternity. 
In the culture and manufacture of tobacco alone, in 
the United States, in the year 1840, when there was 
a population of only seventeen millions, there were 
employed no less than one million five hundred thou- 
sand persons, and the consumption in the States at that 
time amounted to twenty million dollars annually. 
At the same ratio, at the present time, about three 
million persons are employed in its culture and man- MADE PLAIN. 
435 
Waste of treasure and life caused by tobacco and ardent spirit. 
ufacture, and the consumption amounts to forty mil- 
lion dollars. 
It is estimated that the city of New York alone 
pays ten thousand dollars a day for cigars. It is also 
computed, that in America, twenty thousand persons 
go to the grave every year, from the use of tobacco. 
And what good has it ever done in return for such 
an outlay and waste of life ? None whatever! Its 
effects are evil, only evil, and that continually. And 
ardent spirit has been, if possible, more prolific of 
evil than tobacco. The number of paupers produced, 
of hearts crushed ; the amount of health sacrificed, of 
time lost, the millions of treasure wasted, and the 
number of untimely graves filled by it, no arithmeti- 
cian can compute. • 
Notwithstanding all that has been done in the cause 
of temperance by the friends of humanity, during the 
last thirty years, according to carefully compiled 
statistics, there are annually sacrificed to strong drink 
in the United States alone, sixty thousand lives !— 
one hundred thousand men and women are sent to 
prison for the same cause,—twenty thousand children 
are sent to the poor-house,—three hundred murders 
and four hundred suicides are committed,—two- hun- 
dred thousand children are made orphans to be pro- 
vided for by public and private charity; and to pro- 
duce and sustain this enormous amount of crime and 
misery, there are yearly expended not less than two 
hundred million dollars. 436 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH. 
Value of instruction. 
My dear children, as you value health, peace, hap- 
piness and prosperity in this life, and the favor of God 
and the society of the pure in heaven in the life to 
come, I entreat you, never, no never ! indulge in the 
use of these accursed drugs. Shun them as you 
would a mad dog or the raging plague, for while the 
latter destroy only the body, the former destroy both 
soul and body. 
Other facts upon which I intended to speak I must 
defer for the present. At some future time I may 
resume the subject and give you farther instruction ; 
for certainly there is no subject so intimately connected 
with your well being,—physical, mental and moral, 
as that upon which we have been conversing. 
Fred.—I believe it is so; and I cannot tell you 
how highly I prize the instruction you have given us. 
I can but look back with shame to my ignorance upon 
the subject when you commenced conversing with us. 
Frank.—I can say the same. 
Mary.—And I can too, Father, for I did not know 
then how ignorant I was. I now feel that I know 
more, both of myself and of our adorable Creator. 
Father.—And what knowledge can be compared in 
value to that? To know ourselves and our Maker is 
the perfection of knowledge. And I am sure, the 
more you study the subject upon which we have con- 
versed, the more interest you will feel in it, and the 
more highly you will prize the knowledge obtained. MADE PLAIN. 
437 
Great want of knowledge upon the subject of physiology. 
Fred.—I do not doubt it, Father, for I have felt 
more and more interested in the subject, from the 
very first conversation. Why, it seems to me, that I 
was almost as ignorant as a brute about the wonderful 
structure of my own body, and the wisdom and good- 
ness of God displayed in its formation. In fact, I 
had scarcely bestowed a thought upon it, nor had I 
any desire to do so. I supposed it must be a revolt- 
ing subject, fit only to be studied by the surgeon and 
anatomist. But how mistaken I was. No other study 
has ever been so delightful to me, or interested me so 
deeply. Why have I never been taught these things 
in school ? Do you suppose all young people are as 
ignorant upon this subject as we have been? 
Father.—I cannot say whether others know more 
or less than you have known in regard to their physi- 
cal structure and the laws which control health; but 
I have reason to believe that there is a lamentable 
want of knowledge upon the subject, among both 
young and old. 
You ask why you have not been taught these things 
in school. It is a very natural and very proper in- 
quiry. The answer is, that this subject has never 
received that attention in schools, nor has it been 
assigned the prominent position in our system of edu- 
cation in this country, to which it is entitled, and 
which its importance demands. People have been 
content to be ignorant of themselves, while making 438 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Children study every thing but their own bodies. 
great effort to obtain knowledge upon all other sub- 
jects. Children in schools study geography, and are 
taught to describe the source, size, direction and 
length of rivers, and at the same time are grossly 
ignorant of the circulation of the blood through the 
arteries and veins of their own bodies. They learn 
the location of cities, but are ignorant of the location 
of the heart—the citadel of life. They learn the 
number of inhabitants of a continent, or of the world, 
but they have no knowledge of the number of pores 
of the skin, or air-cells of the lungs, or even of the 
bones and muscles of the body. They study hydro- 
statics, but remain ignorant of the fluids of their own 
system. 
They study philosophy which makes them acquaint- 
ed with the forces of nature,—attraction, repulsion, 
cohesion, etc., but they have little or no knowledge 
of the force of the heart or the power of the muscles. 
They learn from the science of chemistry the affinities 
which exist, and changes which take place in different 
substances when placed in contact, but they kno^r 
little or nothing of the neutralizing effects upon each 
other, of the acids and alkalies of the body. 
They study the principles on which the magnetic 
telegraph conveys intelligence with lightning speed, 
hut they are ignorant of the fact that the nerves of 
their own bodies are the most perfect telegraph lines 
ever established. MADE PLAIN. 
439 
Ail improvement in the public mind. 
They study mechanics, but do not know that the 
mechanism of their bodies as far surpasses all else 
mechanical, as the works of God excel those of man. 
They study the properties of light, but not the 
organs of vision. In short, they study every thing 
but the structure and functions of their own bodies, 
and the laws upon which life and health depend. 
Now this is wrong. The former they should do, but 
the latter they should not leave undone ; for, which is 
most important, to know the source and size of a river, 
and in what direction it flows, or in what direction 
the blood flows through the body, and that its 
obstruction, mechanical or otherwise, is ruinous to 
health? To know the location of cities, or the loca- 
tion of the vital organs ? To have knowledge of the 
forces of nature, or the force of the heart? In short, 
to know every thing without us, but nothing within 
us, when freedom from pain, health of body and peace 
of mind, depend upon a knowledge of the structure 
and functions of the body, aittl knowledge and ob- 
servance of the laws which control them ? 
I ain glad, however, to be able to say, that a great 
change, in reference to this subject, has taken place 
in public sentiment, within the last few years. Physi- 
ology and hygiene are now taught in many schools, 
and I trust will soon be in all. These branches of 
knowledge should take as prominent a place in every 
school, and should be as faithfully taught, with text- 440 
THE LAWS OF HEALTH 
Our bodies committed to our own care. 
books as fully adapted to the purpose, as geography, 
grammar, arithmetic, or any other science now taught 
in public or private schools. 
Now, my clear children, we have come to the close 
of this series of conversations. I have presented to 
you some of the proofs of the goodness and benevo- 
lent designs, as well as the extreme perfection of 
workmanship evinced in the formation of our bodies. 
1 have also eudeavorcd to impress upon you the fact, 
that the Creator has committed to our ovm care and 
keeping, these exquisitely wrought pieces of rnecnan- 
ism,—that he has established laws, under the control 
of which, every fibre and particle of our bodies arc 
placed,—which laws we can obey or violate, as we 
choose. In conclusion I will only add, that if what 
I have said relating to the laws of health be true,—if 
the Creator has established laws, obedience to which 
secures health and comfort, and the violation of which 
is the cause, direct or remote, of all the sickness and 
suffering endured by the human family, then we are 
forced to the conclusion, that the hundreds of thou- 
sands of Physicians who spend their lives in the treat- 
ment of disease, are simply making a laborious effort 
to counteract the results of violated law, and as far as 
possible to repair the damage upon the health and 
constitution which has thereby been inflicted ;—that 
the hundreds of millions of dollars paid annually to 
physicians and for medicines, is thrown away, because MADE PLAIN. 
The conclusion. 
people are either ignorant of the laws of health, or 
knowing, deliberately and heedlessly violate them 
in the gratification of appetite, or the indulgence of 
vicious propensities and passions. People trifle with 
their health and the laws which control it, and when 
it is gone, and disease and pain rack their wasted 
frame, and ghastly death stares them in the face, then, 
f possible, they would compass heaven and earth to 
und a physician to cure them, and would give worlds 
'* treasure, did they possess it, to regain the health 
is wantonly thrown away. Boohs for Christian Workers. 
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