he fire-place, after all?" asked
Mr. Bagges.

"Not altogether, according to those who are supposed to know better. They
are of opinion, that some of the oxygen unites with the carbon and
hydrogen of the blood in the lungs: but that most of it is merely absorbed
by the blood, and dissolved in it in the first instance."

"Oxygen, absorbed by the blood? That seems odd," remarked Mr. Bagges. "How
can that be?"

"We only know the fact that there are some things that will absorb
gases--suck them in--make them disappear. Charcoal will, for instance. It is
thought that the iron which the blood contains gives it the curious
property of absorbing oxygen. Well; the oxygen going into the blood makes
it change from dark to bright scarlet; and then this blood containing
oxygen is conveyed all over the system by the arteries, and yields up the
oxygen to combine with hydrogen and carbon as it goes along. The carbon
and hydrogen are part of the substance of the body. The bright scarlet
blood mixes oxygen with them, which burns them, in fact; that is, makes
them into carbonic acid and water. Of course, the body would soon be
consumed if this were all that the blood does. But while it mixes oxygen
with the old substance of the body, to burn it up, it lays down fresh
material to replace the loss. So our bodies are continually changing
throughout, though they seem to us always the same; but then, you know, a
river appears the same from year's end to year's end, although the water
in it is different every day."

"Eh, then," said Mr. Bagges, "if the body is always on the change in this
way, we must have had several bodies in the course of our lives, by the
time we are old."

"Yes, uncle; therefore, how foolish it is to spend money upon funerals.
What becomes of all the bodies we use up during our life-times? If we are
none the worse for their flying away in carbonic acid and other things
without ceremony, what good can we expect from having a fuss made about
the body we leave behind us, which is put into the earth? However, you are
wanting to know what becomes of the water and carbonic acid which have
been made by the oxygen of the blood burning up the old materials of our
frame. The dark blood of the veins absorbs this carbonic acid and water,
as the blood of the arteries does oxygen--only, they say, it does so by
means of a salt in it, called phosphate of soda. Then the dark blood goes
back to the lungs, and in them it parts with its c