When you were quite little, my dear child, and still a nursling, you
had nothing behind your lips but two little rosy bars, which were of
no service for gnawing an apple, as they were not supplied with teeth.
You had no need of these then, since nothing but milk passed your lips,
neither had your nurse bargained for your having teeth to bite with.
You see that God provides for everything, as I have already said, and
shall often have occasion to point out to you.
But by degrees the little infant grew into a great girl, and it became
necessary to think of giving her something more solid than milk to
eat; and for this purpose she required teeth. Then some little germs,
which had lain dormant, concealed within the jaws, awoke one after
another, like faithful workmen when they hear the striking of the
clock. Each set to work in his little cell, and with the help of some
phosphorus and some lime, it began to make itself a kind of white
armour, as hard as a stone, which grew larger from day to day.
You know what lime is; that sort of white pulp which you have seen
standing in large troughs where the masons are building houses, andwhich
they use in making mortar; it is with this that your little
masons build your teeth.
As to phosphorus, I am afraid you may never have seen any; but you may
have heard it spoken of. It is sold at the druggist's in the form of
little white sticks, about as thick as your finger; they have a
disagreeable, garlicky smell, and are obliged to be kept in jars of
water, because they seize every opportunity of taking fire; so I advise
you, if ever you do see any phosphorus, not to meddle with it--for in
burning, it sticks closely to the skin, and there is the greatest
difficulty in the world in extinguishing it, and the burns it makes
are fearful. I give you this caution, because phosphorus possesses a
very curious property, which might attract little girls. Wherever it
is rubbed, in the dark, on a door, or on a wall, it leaves a luminous
trail of a very peculiar appearance, which has been called
phosphorescent, from the name of the substance which produces it. And
in this way one can write on walls in letters of fire, to the terror
of cowards. Now, come; if you will promise to be very wise, and only
to make the experiment when your mamma is present, I will teach you
how to make phosphorescent lights without having to go to the
druggist's! There is a small quantity of phosphorus in lucifer matches,
which their garlicky smell proves. Rub them gently in the dark on a
bit of wood, and you will see a ray of light which will shine for some
moments. But mind, you must not play at that game when you are alone;
it is a dangerous amusement, and one hears every day of terrible
accidents caused by disobedient children playing with lucifer matches.
And while we are on the subject, let me warn you against putting them
into your mouth. Phosphorus is a poison, and such a powerful one that
people poison rats with bread-crumb balls in which it has been
introduced.
"Oh dear me! and that poison makes part of our teeth?"
Exactly so, and it even forms part of all our bones, and of the bones
of all animals; the best proof of which is, that the phosphorus of
lucifer matches has been procured out of bones from the slaughter-house.
One could make it from the teeth of little girls if one could get
enough of them.
Now I see what puzzles you, and well it may. You are asking yourself
how those little tooth-makers, the gums, get hold of this terrible
phosphorus, which is set on fire by a mere nothing, and which we dare
not put into our mouths; where do they find the lime which I also
protest is not fit to eat, and yet of which we have stores from our
heads to our feet?
It is very surprising, too, to think of its being forthcoming in the
jaws just when it is wanted there.
You begin to perceive that there are many things to be learnt before
we come to the end of our history, and that we find ourselves checked
at every step; now listen, for we are coming to something very
important.
In distant country-seats, where people are thrown entirely upon their
own resources, they must be provided beforehand with all that is
requisite for repairing the building; and there is, accordingly, a
person called a steward, who keeps everything under lock and key, and
distributes to the workmen whatever materials they may require. Thus,
the steward gives tiles to the slater, planks to the carpenter, colors
to the painter, lime and bricks to the mason--the very same lime that
we have in our teeth--in fact, he has got everything that can be wanted
in his storehouse, and it is to him that every one applies in time of
need.
Now our body also is a mansion, and has its steward too. But what a
steward--how active! what a universal genius I how inefficient by
comparison are the stewards of the greatest lords! He goes, he comes,
he is everywhere at once; and this really, and not as we use the phrase
in speaking of a merely active man: for the _being everywhere at
once_ is in this case, a fact. He keeps everything, not in a
storehouse, but what is far better, in his very pockets, which he
empties by degrees as he goes about, distributing their contents without
ever making a mistake, without stopping, without delaying; and returns
to replenish his resources in a ceaseless, indefatigable course, which
never flags, night nor day. And you can form no idea how many workmen
he has under his orders, all laboring without intermission, all
requiring different things--not one of them pausing, even for a
joke!--not even to say--"Wait a moment;"--they do not understand what
waiting means: he must always keep giving, giving, giving. By and by
we shall have a long account to give of this wonderful steward, whose
name, be it known, if you have not already guessed it, is Blood.
It is he who, one fine day when he was making his round of the jaws,
found those little germs I spoke of, awake and eager for work; and he
began at once to start them with materials. He knew that phosphorus
and lime were what they needed: he drew phosphorus and lime therefore
out of his pockets,--and, to be very exact, some other little matters
too,--but these were the most important; but I cannot stop to tell you
everything at once.
Now, where did the blood obtain this phosphorus and lime?
I expected you to ask this, but if you want everything explained as
we go along, we shall not get very far. In fact, if I answer all your
questions I shall be letting out my secret too soon, and telling you
the end of my story almost before it is begun.
So be it, however; perhaps you will feel more courage to go on, when
you know where we are going.
The steward of a country-house distributes tiles, planks, paint, bricks,
lime; but none of these things are his own, as you know; he has received
them from his master: and, in the same way, our steward has nothing
of his own: everything he distributes comes from the master of the
house, and as I have already told you, this master is the stomach. As
fast as the steward distributes, therefore, must the master renew the
stores--and renew them all, for unless he does this, the work would
stop. In proportion as the blood gives out on all sides the contents
of his pockets, the stomach must replenish them, and fill them with
everything necessary, or there would be a revolution in the house.
Now, as there can be nothing in the stomach but what has got into it
by the mouth, it behooves us to put into the mouth whatever is needed
for the supply of our numerous workmen; and this is why we eat.
I perceive that I have plunged here into an explanation out of which
I shall not easily extricate myself, for I can guess what you are going
to say next. When you began to cut your teeth, you had eaten neither
phosphorus nor lime, as nothing but milk had entered your mouth.
That is true. Neither then, nor since then, have you eaten those things,
and what is more, I hope you never will. And yet both must have got
into your mouth, for without them your teeth could never have grown.
How are we to get out of this puzzle?
Suppose now, for a moment, that instead of phosphorus and lime,
thelittle workmen in your jaws had asked the blood for sugar to make the
teeth with. Fortunately this is only a supposition; otherwise I should
be in great fear for the poor teeth: they would not last very long.
Suppose, further, that instead of your eating the lump of sugar which
was destined to turn into a tooth, your mamma had melted it in a glass
of water, and had given it to you to drink; you could not say you had
eaten sugar, and yet the sugar would really have got into your stomach,
and there would be nothing very wonderful if the stomach had found it
out and given it to the blood, and the blood had carried it off to the
place where it was wanted. Now, allowing that the lump of sugar was
very small, and the glass of water very large, the sugar might have
passed without your perceiving it, and yet the tooth would have grown
all the same, and without the help of a miracle.
And this is how it was. In the milk which you drank as a baby there
were both phosphorus and lime, though in very small quantities. There
were many other things besides; everything of course that the blood
required for the use of its work-people, because at that time the
stomach was only receiving milk, and yet all the work was going on as
usual.
And therefore, my dear child, whenever in the course of our studies,
you hear me describe such and such a thing as being within us, say
quietly to yourself, "that also was in the milk which nourished me
when I was a baby."
Of course, the same things are in what you eat now; only now they come
in a form more difficult to deal with, and the labor of detaching them
from the surrounding ingredients is much greater. The whole business
indeed of this famous machine which we are studying consists in
unfastening the links which hold things together, and in laying aside
what is useful, to be sent to the blood divested of the refuse. The
stomach was too feeble in your infancy to have encountered the work
it has to do now. It is for this reason that God devised for the benefit
of little children that excellent nourishment--milk--which contains,
all ready for use, every ingredient the blood wants; and is almost,
in fact, blood ready made.
Only think, my child, what you owe to her who gave you this nourishment!
It was actually her blood she was giving you; her blood which entered
into your veins, and which wrought within you in the wonderful way
which I have been describing. Other people gave you sugar-plums, kisses,
and toys; but she gave you the teeth which crunched the sugar-plums,
the flesh of the rosy cheeks which got the kisses, and of the little
hands which handled the toys. If ever you can forget this, you are
ungrateful indeed!
Now, beware of going on to ask me how we know that there are so many
sorts of things in milk, or I shall end by getting angry. Question
after question; why, you might drive me in this way to the end of the
world, and we should never reach the point we are aiming at. We have
already traveled far away from the teeth, concerning which I wanted
to talk to you at this time, but our lesson is nearly over and we have
scarcely said a word about them! One cannot learn everything at once.
Upon the point in question you must take my word; and as you may
believe, I would not run the risk of being contradicted before you,
by those who have authority on the subject.
Let it suffice you, for to-day, to have gained some idea of the manner
in which the materials which constitute our bodies are manufactured
within us. We have got at this by talking of the teeth; to-morrow, it
may be the saliva, the next day something else. What I have now told
you will be of use all the way through, and I do not regret the time
we have given to the subject. If you have understood that well; the
time has not been lost.