flowers without the light of heaven, they are blanched, withered, and die. These sickly ones crawl into their homes, such as they are, from which the light of day is almost excluded, and with it the light of hope. Under these circumstances the parish doctor is sent for, but too often it is his lot only to be a passive witness of the irreparable mischief which has been done. I have a vivid and painful recollection of a visit I paid to Devonshire-place. The room was small, dark, dirty, and gloomy. There were but few squares of glass left in the frame, through which the yellow light feebly struggled to enter; the chimney was stopped up, the air stagnant and very oppressive, even for the few minutes I was present, yet there were no less than five people sleeping in this apartment, two children ill with scarlet fever, and one resting in death. The ventilation was so bad, that the recovery of my little patients was doubtful, and the deterioration of the health of their parents certain. In cases of this kind how important it is for every one to know, that by excluding the breath of heaven, we are extinguishing the breath of life. It is of the highest importance that we should have fresh air in health, but it is imperatively necessary in disease. Then more than ever does nature feel the necessity for fresh air. A lowered vitality like a fire that is dying out, requires a larger supply of atmospheric air, but alas! how often is this innate craving for fresh air stifled by prejudice and ignorance. Close rooms are rendered closer by chimneys being blocked up, and every crook and crevice being stuffed up by rags and paper, as if the great object to be attained was effectually to prevent one breathing. All this is done from the purest motive, and with the best intention; it is done to prevent the patient taking cold. So the patient has to struggle against sickness, poverty, and impure air. Those who are in health, though they may sleep in overcrowded rooms, have the advantage of being out in the open air some part of the day, and this in some measure compensates for their close confinement. The open air quickens the pulse and restores the vitality of the various functions of the body. Fortunate are those whose employment is out of doors. This obtains rather with the male than the female poor. They too often leave a closely confined and overcrowded bed-room to go into a still worse work-room, there to work _twelve_ or _fourteen_ hours under flaring gas-lights in a heated and impure atmosphere. Those who live like this succumb at an early period of life to disease:— “With fingers weary and worn, With eye-lids heavy and red,” they rush out of their overcrowded work-rooms and seek to palliate their physical sufferings at the gin-shop.