In proportion as we ascend the alpine elevations of our globe, or mount upwards in a balloon, we find the air more and more rarefied. These elevations are, however, but trifling; nevertheless, trifling as they are, what an effect the decrease of pressure produces on the human frame! The heart beats with violence, the lungs gasp for more air, they have not pressure enough; the blood begins to ooze out of the minute vessels ramifying through the tissue of their delicate cells; blood issues from the nose, the eyes, the ears; the slightest exertion becomes oppressive--a mile or two higher, and death is inevitable. The difficulties attendant upon the ascent of Mont Blanc, the vast Himalaya chain, and the heights of the Cordilleras, are quite as much connected with the state of the air as with the terrible ravines and precipices which obstruct the way. Indeed, as is well known, on the elevated plateaus of South America or Thibet, men and animals accustomed to low plains, or even to gently undulating grounds, are for a long time distressed for breath, and incapable of bodily exertion. Time alone habituates them to the rarer and lighter atmosphere. But what is an elevation of 13,000 or 14,000 feet, nay of 15,668 feet, (Mont Blanc,) of 25,747 feet, or 28,077 feet, (Jewahir and Dhawalagiri, peaks of the Himalaya,) to that of twenty or thirty miles? At an elevation of twenty miles, the heart of a human being would burst, his lungs become gorged with blood, from every pore of his body a sanguine stream would gush forth--he would immediately die. Is not, then, the pressure of the atmosphere necessary for the existence of man, constituted as he is for the planet which he inhabits? But the atmosphere, with regard to its relationship to the solid globe it environs, demands a few words.