the mania for public health, it is quite time that
every patriotic man should put these questions seriously to his
conscience.

One topic more. Let it clearly be understood, that against artificial
light we can make no objection. Between sun and candle there are more
contrasts than the mere difference in brilliancy. The light which comes
down from the sky not only eats no air out of our mouths, but it comes
charged with mysterious and subtle principles which have a purifying,
vivifying power. It is a powerful ally of health, and we make war against
it. But artificial light contains no sanitary marvels. When the gas
streams through half a dozen jets into your room, and burns there and
gives light; when candles become shorter and shorter, until they are
"burnt out" and seen no more; you know what happens. Nothing in Nature
ceases to exist. Your camphine has left the lamp, but it has not vanished
out of being. Nor has it been converted into light. Light is a visible
action; and candles are no more converted into light when they are
burning, than breath is converted into speech when you are talking. The
breath, having produced speech, mixes with the atmosphere; gas, camphine,
candles, having produced light, do the same. If you saw fifty wax-lights
shrink to their sockets last week in an unventilated ball-room, yet,
though invisible, they had not left you; for their elements were in the
room, and you were breathing them. Their light had been a sign that they
were combining chemically with the air; in so combining they were changed,
but they became a poison. Every artificial light is, of necessity, a
little workshop for the conversion of gas, oil, spirit, or candle into
respirable poison. Let no sanitary tongue persuade you that the more we
have of such a process, the more need we have of ventilation. Ventilation
is a catchword for the use of agitators, in which it does not become any
person of refinement to exhibit interest.

The following hint will be received thankfully by gentlemen who would be
glad to merit spectacles. To make your eyes weak, use a fluctuating light;
nothing can be better adapted for your purpose than what are called
"mould" candles. The joke of them consists in this, they begin with giving
you sufficient light; but, as the wick grows, the radiance lessens, and
your eye gradually accommodates itself to the decrease: suddenly they are
snuffed, and your eye leaps back to its original adjustment, there beg