So much those old Greeks did for their own education, without science and without Christianity.  We who have both:  what might we not do, if we would be true to our advantages, and to ourselves?

THE TWO BREATHS.  A LECTURE DELIVERED AT WINCHESTER, MAY 31, 1869.

Ladies,—­I have been honoured by a second invitation to address you here, from the lady to whose public spirit the establishment of these lectures is due.  I dare not refuse it:  because it gives me an opportunity of speaking on a matter, knowledge and ignorance about which may seriously affect your health and happiness, and that of the children with whom you may have to do.  I must apologize if I say many things which are well known to many persons in this room:  they ought to be well known to all; and it is generally best to assume total ignorance in one’s hearers, and to begin from the beginning.

I shall try to be as simple as possible; to trouble you as little as possible with scientific terms; to be practical; and at the same time, if possible, interesting.

I should wish to call this lecture “The Two Breaths:”  not merely “The Breath;” and for this reason:  every time you breathe, you breathe two different breaths; you take in one, you give out another.  The composition of those two breaths is different.  Their effects are different.  The breath which has been breathed out must not be breathed in again.  To tell you why it must not would lead me into anatomical details, not quite in place here as yet:  though the day will come, I trust, when every woman entrusted with the care of children will be expected to know something about them.  But this I may say—­Those who habitually take in fresh breath will probably grow up large, strong, ruddy, cheerful, active, clear-headed, fit for their work.  Those who habitually take in the breath which has been breathed out by themselves, or any other living creature, will certainly grow up, if they grow up at all, small, weak, pale, nervous, depressed, unfit for work, and tempted continually to resort to stimulants, and become drunkards.

If you want to see how different the breath breathed out is from the breath taken in, you have only to try a somewhat cruel experiment, but one which people too often try upon themselves, their children, and their work-people.  If you take any small animal with lungs like your own—­a mouse, for instance—­and force it to breathe no air but what you have breathed already; if you put it in a close box, and while you take in breath from the outer air, send out your breath through a tube, into that box, the animal will soon faint; if you go on long with this process, it will die.

Take a second instance, which I beg to press most seriously on the notice of mothers, governesses, and nurses:  If you allow a child to get into the habit of sleeping with its head under the bed-clothes, and thereby breathing its own breath over and over again, that child will assuredly grow pale, weak, and ill.  Medical men have cases on record of scrofula appearing in children previously healthy, which could only be accounted for from this habit, and which ceased when the habit stopped.  Let me again entreat your attention to this undoubted fact.