Part 15

THE CILIA.--Along the air passages are minute filaments (cilia, Fig. 32), which are in constant motion, like a field of grain stirred by a gentle breeze. They serve to fan the air in the lungs, and produce an outward current, which is useful in catching dust and fine particles swept inward with the breath.

HOW WE BREATHE.--Respiration consists of two acts--taking in the air, or inspiration, and expelling the air, or expiration.

FIG. 32.

1. Inspiration.--When we draw in a full breath, we straighten the spine and throw the head and shoulders back, so as to give the greatest advantage to the muscles. [Footnote: If we examine the bony cage of the thorax or chest in Fig. 8, we shall see that the position of the ribs may alter its capacity in two ways.

1. As they run obliquely downward from the spine, if the sternum or breastbone be lifted in front, the diameter of the chest will be increased.

2. The ribs are fastened by elastic cartilages, which stretch as the muscles that lift the ribs contract, and so increase the breadth of the chest.]

At the same time, the diaphragm [Footnote: The diaphragm is the muscular partition between the chest and the abdomen. It is always convex toward the former, and concave toward the latter (Fig. 31). Long muscular fibers extend from its center toward the ribs in front and the spine at the back. When these contract, they depress and flatten the diaphragm; when they relax, it becomes convex again. In the former case, the bowels are pressed downward and the abdomen pushed outward; in the latter, the bowels spring upward, and the abdomen is drawn inward.] descends and presses the walls of the abdomen outward. Both these processes increase the size of the chest. Thereupon, the elastic lungs expand to occupy the extra space, while the air, rushing in through the windpipe, pours along the bronchial tubes and crowds into every cell. [Footnote: It is said that in drawing a full breath, the muscles exert a force equal to raising a weight of seven hundred and fifty pounds. When we are about to make a great effort, as in striking a heavy blow, we naturally take a deep inspiration, and shut the glottis. The confined air makes the chest tense and firm, and enables us to exert a greater force. As we let slip the blow, the glottis opens and the air escapes, often with a curious aspirated sound as is noticeable in workmen. To make a good shot with a rifle, we should take aim with a full chest and tight breath, since then the arms will have a steadier support.]

2. Expiration.--When we forcibly expel the air from our lungs, the operation is reversed. We bend forward, draw in the walls of the abdomen, and press the diaphragm upward, while the ribs are pulled downward,--all together diminishing the size of the chest, and forcing the air outward.

Ordinary, quiet breathing is performed mainly by the diaphragm,--one breath to every four beats of the heart, or eighteen per minute. (See p. 299.)

MODIFICATIONS OF THE BREATH.--Sighing is merely a prolonged inspiration followed by an audible expiration. Coughing is a violent expiration in which the air is driven through the mouth. Sneezing differs from coughing, the air being forced through the nose. Snoring is produced by the passage of the breath through the pharynx when the tongue and soft palate are in certain positions. [Footnote: The soft palate must have fallen back in such a manner as nearly or quite to close the entrance to the nasal cavity from the throat, and the tongue must also be thrown back so far as to leave only a narrow opening between it and the soft palate. The noise is produced by the air being forced either inward or outward through this opening. A snore results also when, with a closed mouth, the air is forced between the soft palate and the back wall of the pharynx into the nasal cavity. With deep breathing, perhaps accompanied by a variation in the position of the soft palate, a rattling noise may be heard in addition to the snoring, which is due to a vibration of the soft palate.--F. A. FERNALD, in "How we Sneeze, Laugh, Stammer, and Sigh."--Popular Science Monthly, Feb., 1884.] Laughing and crying are very much alike. The expression of the face is necessary to distinguish between them. The sounds are produced by short, rapid contractions of the diaphragm. Hiccough is confined to inspiration. It is caused by a contraction of the diaphragm and a constriction of the glottis; the current of air just entering, as it strikes the closed glottis, gives rise to the well-known sound. Yawning, or gaping, is like sighing. [Footnote: The usefulness of a yawn lies in bringing up the arrears, as it were, of respiration, when it has fallen behindhand, either through fatigue or close attention to other occupation. The stretching of the jaws and limbs may also serve to equalize the nervous influence, certain muscles having become uneasy on account of being stretched or contracted for a long time.] It is distinguished by a wide opening of the mouth and a deep, profound inspiration. Both processes furnish additional air, and therefore probably meet a demand of the system for more oxygen. Frequently, however, they are like laughing, sobbing, etc., merely a sort of contagion, which runs through an audience, and seems almost irresistible.

THE CAPACITY OF THE LUNGS.--If we take a deep inspiration, and then forcibly exhale all the air we can expel from the lungs, this amount, which is termed the breathing capacity, will bear a very close correspondence to our stature. For a man of medium height (five feet eight inches) it will be about two hundred and thirty cubic inches, [Footnote: Of this amount, one hundred cubic inches can be forced in only by an extra effort, and is available for emergencies, or for purposes of training, as in singing, climbing, etc. It is of great importance, since, if the capacity of the lungs only equaled our daily wants, the least obstruction would prove fatal.] or a gallon, and for each inch of height between five and six feet there will be an increase of eight cubic inches. In addition, it is found that the lungs contain about one hundred cubic inches which can not be expelled, thus making their entire contents about three hundred and thirty cubic inches, or eleven pints. The extra amount always on hand in the lungs is of great value, since thereby the action of the air goes on continuously, even during a violent expiration. In ordinary breathing, only about twenty or thirty cubic inches (less than a pint) of air pass in and out.

THE NEED OF AIR.--The body needs food, clothing, sunshine, bathing, and. drink; but none of these wants is so pressing as that for air. The other demands may be met by occasional supplies, but air must be furnished every moment or we die. Now the vital element of the atmosphere is oxygen gas. [Footnote: See "Steele's Popular Chemistry," p. 30. The atmosphere consists of one fifth oxygen and four fifths nitrogen. The former is the active element; and the latter, the passive. Oxygen alone would be too stimulating, and must be restrained by the neutral nitrogen. Separately, either element of the air would kill us.] This is a stimulating, life- giving principle. No tonic will so invigorate as a few full, deep breaths of cold, pure air. Every organ will glow with the energy of the fiery oxygen.

ACTION OF THE AIR IN THE LUNGS.--In the delicate cells of the lungs, the air gives up its oxygen to the blood, and receives in turn carbonic-acid [Footnote: More properly Carbon dioxide.] gas and water, foul with waste matter which the blood has picked up in its circulation through the body. The blood, thus purified and laden with the inspiring oxygen, goes bounding through the system, while the air we exhale carries off the impurities. In this process, the blood changes from purple to red. If we examine our breath, we can readily see what it has removed from the blood.

TESTS OF THE BREATH.--1. Breathe into a jar, and on lowering into it a lighted candle, the flame will be instantly extinguished; thus indicating the presence of carbonic-acid gas. 2. Breathe upon a mirror, and a film of moisture will show the vapor. [Footnote: There is a close relation between the functions of the skin, the lungs, and the kidneys--the scavengers of the body. They all carry off water from the blood, and when the function of one of the three is, in this respect, interfered with, the others are called upon to perform its functions. When the function of perspiration is deranged, the lungs and kidneys are required to perform heavier duty, and this may lead to disease (see p. 62).] 3. If breath be confined in a bottle, the animal matter will decompose and give off an offensive odor.

ANALYSIS OF THE EXPIRED AIR shows that it has lost about twenty-five per cent of its oxygen, and gained an equal amount of carbonic-acid gas, besides moisture, and organic impurities. Our breath, then, is air robbed of its vitality, and containing in its place a gas as fatal to life [Footnote: Carbonic-acid gas can not be breathed when undiluted, as the glottis closes and forbids its passage into the lungs. Air containing only three or four per cent acts as a narcotic poison (MILLER), and a much smaller proportion will have an injurious effect. The great danger, however, lies in the organic particles constantly exhaled from the lungs and the skin, which, it is believed, are often direct and active poisons.] as it is to a flame, and effete matter which is disagreeable to the smell, injurious to the health, and which may contain the germs of serious disease.

THE EVIL EFFECT OF REBREATHING the air can not be overestimated. We take back into our bodies that which has just been rejected. The blood thereupon leaves the lungs, bearing, not the invigorating oxygen, but refuse matter to obstruct the whole system. We soon feel the effect. The muscles become inactive. The blood stagnates. The heart acts slowly. The food is undigested. The brain is clogged. The head aches. Instances of fatal results are only too frequent. [Footnote: During the English war in India, in the eighteenth century, one hundred and forty-six prisoners were shut up in a room scarcely large enough to hold them. The air could enter only by two narrow windows. At the end of eight hours, but twenty-three persons remained alive, and these were in a most deplorable condition. This prison is well called "The Black Hole of Calcutta."--Percy relates that after the battle of Austerlitz, three hundred Russian prisoners were confined in a cavern, where two hundred and sixty of them perished in a few hours.--The stupid captain of the ship Londonderry, during a storm at sea, shut the hatches. There were only seven cubic feet of space left for each person, and in six hours ninety of the passengers were dead.] The constant breathing of even the slightly impure air of our houses can not but tend to undermine the health. The blood is not purified, and is thus in a condition to receive the seeds of disease at any time. The system uninspired by the energizing oxygen is sensitive to cold. The pale cheek, the lusterless eye, the languid step, speak but too plainly of oxygen starvation. In such a soil, catarrh, scrofula, and kindred diseases run riot. [Footnote: One not very strong, or unable powerfully to resist conditions unfavorable to health, and with a predisposition to lung disease, will be sure, sooner or later, by partial lung starvation and blood poisoning, to develop pulmonary consumption. The lack of what is so abundant and so cheap--good, pure air--is unquestionably the one great cause of this terrible disease.--BLACK'S Ten Laws of Health.]

CONCERNING THE NEED FOR VENTILATION.--The foul air which passes off from the lungs and through the pores of the skin does not fall to the floor, but diffuses itself through the surrounding atmosphere. A single breath will to a trifling but certain extent taint the air of a whole room. [Footnote: This grows out of a well-known philosophical principle called the Diffusion of Gases, whereby two gases tend to mix in exact proportions, no matter what may be the quantity of each.--STEELE'S Popular Chemistry, p. 86, and Popular Physics, p. 52.] A light will vitiate as much air as a dozen persons. Many breaths and lights therefore rapidly unfit the air for our use.

The perfection of ventilation is reached when the air of a room is as pure as that out of doors. To accomplish this result, it is necessary to allow for each person six hundred cubic feet of space, while ventilation is still going on in the best manner known.

In spite of these well-known facts, scarcely any pains are taken to supply fresh air, while the doors and windows where the life-giving oxygen might creep in are hermetically stopped.

How often is this true of the sick room. Yet here the danger of bad air is intensified. The expired breath of the patient is peculiarly threatening to himself as well as to others. Nature is seeking to throw off the poison of the disease. The scavengers of the body are all at work. The breath and the insensible perspiration are loaded with impurities. [Footnote: The floating dust in the air, revealed to us by the sunbeam shining through a crack in the blinds, shows the abundance of these impurities, and also the presence of germs which, lodging in the lungs, may implant disease, unless thrown off by a vigorous constitution. "On uncovering a scarlet fever patient, a cloud of fine dust is seen to rise from the body--contagious dust, that for days will retain its poisonous properties."--YOUMANS. (See p. 300.)] The odor is oftentimes exceedingly offensive. Sick and well alike need an abundance of fresh air. But, too often, it is the only want not supplied.

Our sitting rooms, heated by furnaces or red-hot stoves, generally have no means of ventilation, or, if provided, they are seldom used. A window is occasionally dropped to give a little relief, as if pure air were a rarity, and must be doled out to the suffering lungs in morsels, instead of full and constant draughts. The inmates are starved by scanty lung food, and stupefied by foul air. The process goes on year by year. The weakened and poisoned body at last succumbs to disease, while we, in our blindness and ignorance, talk of the mysterious Providence which thus untimely cuts down the brightest intellects. The truth is, death is often simply the penalty for violating nature's laws. Bad air begets disease; disease begets death.

In our churches, the foul air left by the congregation on Sunday is shut up during the week, and heated for the next Lord's day, when the people assemble to rebreathe the polluted atmosphere. They are thus forced, with every breath they take, to violate the physical laws of Him whom they meet to worship,--laws written not three thousand years ago upon Mount Sinai on tables of stone, but to-day engraved in the constitution of their own living, breathing bodies. On brains benumbed and starving for oxygen, the purest truth and the highest eloquence fall with little force.

We sleep in a small bedroom from which every breath of fresh air is excluded, because we believe night air to be unhealthy, [Footnote: There is a singular prejudice against the night air. Yet, as Florence Nightingale aptly says, what other air can we breathe at night? We then have the choice between foul air within and pure air without. For, in large cities especially, the night air is far more wholesome than that of the daytime. To secure fresh air at night, we must open the windows of our bedroom.] and so we breathe its dozen hogsheads of air over and over again, and then wonder why we awaken in the morning so dull and unrefreshed! Return to our room after inhaling the fresh, morning air, and the fetid odor we meet on opening the door, is convincing proof how we have poisoned our lungs during the night.

Each room should be supplied with two thousand feet of fresh air per hour for every person it contains. Our ingenuity ought to find some way of doing this advantageously and pleasantly. A moiety of the care we devote to delicate articles of food, drink, and dress would abundantly meet this prime necessity of our bodies.

Open the windows a little at the top and the bottom. Put on plenty of clothing to keep warm by day and by night, and then let the inspiring oxygen come in as freely as God has given it. Pure air is the cheapest necessity and luxury of life. Let it not be the rarest!

SCHOOLROOM VENTILATION.--Who, on going from the open air of a clear, bracing winter's day, into a crowded schoolroom, late in the session, has not noticed the disagreeable odor, and been for a moment nauseated and half stifled by the oppressive atmosphere! It is not strange. See how many causes here combine to pollute the air. If the room is heated by a stove, quantities of carbonic-oxide and carbonic-acid gases, as well as other products of combustion, driven by downward drafts in the flue, escape through seams and cracks and the occasionally opened door of the stove. In the case of a furnace, the same effect is too often experienced, and the odor of coal gas is a common one, especially when the fire is replenished. The insensible perspiration is more active in children than in adults; they, moreover, rush in with their clothing saturated with the perspiration induced by their sports; so that, on the average, each pupil, during school hours, loads the air with about half a pint of aqueous vapor. The children come, oftentimes, from homes that are close, ill- ventilated, and uncleanly; and frequently from sick rooms, bringing in their clothing the germs of disease. (See p. 304.) Some of the pupils may even bear traces of illness, or have unsound organs, and so their breath and exhalations be poisonous.

In addition to all this, the air is filled with dust brought in and kept astir by many busy feet; with ashes floating from the stove or furnace; and especially with chalk dust. The modern method of teaching requires a large amount of blackboard work, and the air of the schoolroom is thus loaded with chalk particles. These collect in the nasal passages, and the upper part of the larynx, and irritate the membrane, perhaps laying the foundation of catarrh.

The usual schoolroom atmosphere bears in the pupils the natural fruit of frequent headaches, inattention, weariness, and stupor; but in the teacher its frightful influence is most apparent. His labor is severe, his worry of mind is constant, and, when he finishes his day's work, he is generally too tired to take proper physical exercise. He consequently labors on with impaired health, or is forced to abandon his profession.