LESSONS IN PHYSIOLOGY.
WHISTLER persevered with the drawings which his teacher had requested
him to make; and, though he was frequently obliged to rub out and
re-draw his lines, he became so much interested in the work that the
idea of being discouraged scarcely occurred to him. He devoted to it all
the time he could spare out of school, which was not much, now that he
had Clinton to entertain. In two or three days, however, the drawings
were completed; and it was but the work of an evening to shade the lines
with Indian ink. The next morning the young artist had the satisfaction
of handing them to his teacher, and of receiving both his thanks and
praise for the neat and faithful manner in which he had executed his
commission. After the opening exercises of the school, while all the
boys were assembled in the large room, the principal remarked that he
wished to address a few words to the scholars before they separated to
their several rooms.
[Illustration]
“I have noticed,” he said, “a somewhat prevalent fault in the school,
which I wish to correct now, at the beginning of the term. Some of you,
I perceive, do not know how to sit or stand properly. It is very
important that you all should acquire this art, or rather habit. If
necessary, you had better neglect your grammar or arithmetic a little,
rather than fail of this accomplishment. As you sit or stand now, you
will be likely to sit or stand as long as you live. Your bodies are now
growing very fast, and they will grow into the shape which you accustom
them to. If it is a bad shape, it will be difficult to correct it a few
years hence.
[Illustration]
“The great thing, in sitting, standing and walking, is _erectness_. Keep
the head up, and the body straight. Don’t try to hump your backs, nor
hang your heads as though they were too heavy for you. There are two
great objections to the crooked position. One is, it looks badly; and
the other is, it is very injurious to the body. I consider this subject
of so much importance that I have procured a few drawings to illustrate
it, which I shall fasten upon the wall, where you can all see them
several times every day. The first two that I shall show you were
executed by Master William Davenport; and I think you will all admit
that they are very creditable to him. This drawing”—and here the
principal held up the first design on this page—“shows the wrong
standing posture. There are not many of you that cut quite so bad a
figure as that when you stand up to read, but some of you resemble it a
great deal more than you ought to. Look at it, and see how ungainly it
appears! How unnatural it is! Now, just compare it with this
boy”—holding up the other design. “This is the right position. It is
easy, natural, graceful, and favorable to health. I wish you all to
imitate it.”
The teacher now wrote “_wrong_” under the first drawing, and “_right_”
under the other, and then fastened them upon the wall. He then held up
to the school a large drawing, represented in the following engraving,
and said “For this drawing, and the mate to it, which I shall soon show
you, I am indebted to Miss Martin.” (This lady was one of the assistant
teachers.) “It shows the wrong sitting position, and it is a pretty good
likeness of the posture which many of you get into when you are writing
and ciphering. Just study that boy’s attitude. See his head, hanging
down as if it were loaded with lead,—and very likely it is, for he looks
like a dunce! See his cramped and hunched chest, and his twisted legs! I
will label it ‘_wrong_,’ and fasten it up here; and as often as you look
at it, let it be a warning to you.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
“And here, boys,” continued the principal, exhibiting the above drawing,
“you see the right sitting position. What an improvement it is upon the
other position, even if we think only of the looks! But the effect on
the health is far more important than that. I suppose you all know that
the spine, or backbone, is intended to support the body and keep it
erect. It is one of the most curious contrivances in our bodies. It is
composed of twenty-four small bones, between each of which there is a
piece of cartilage, or gristle, which we may compare to an India-rubber
spring. The whole makes a strong column, and yet it can be bent in any
direction, and is so elastic or yielding that it protects the head from
jars as completely as the softest cushion could do it. But the proper
position of this spinal column is the upright one; and it can never be
kept long out of that position without injury. Look at either of those
boys who are in the wrong position. The spine, you see, must be very
crooked. If they assume that unnatural position often, and remain in it
for a long time, there is danger that the cartilages or springs in their
backbones will harden where they are compressed, and then they will
always be distorted. Besides, there are certain muscles in our trunks
that sustain the spine. When we habitually sit or stand in a crooked
position, these muscles are severely taxed, and finally lose their
strength, and then we become liable to weakness and disease. Diseases of
the spine are very difficult to cure. People are sometimes confined to
their beds for ten, twenty, or thirty years by such complaints, before
death comes to their relief.
“But the backbone is not the only sufferer from this bad habit. It
crowds the lungs, so that they do not have room to work. They become
contracted; the chest grows flat and narrow; the stomach and abdomen are
pressed together unnaturally; and, after a while, you will be unable to
take in air enough to give life and vigor to the blood. Then sores will
form in your lungs; the doctors will tell you that you are in
consumption, and death will begin to knock at your door. You can easily
satisfy yourselves on this point by an experiment or two. Put yourselves
into a crooked position, and then speak or read aloud a few minutes.
Then do the same thing in an upright position, and see how much easier
it is. Or, you may try to take a full breath without raising the
shoulders, and then do so giving the shoulders fair play. You will find
there is a right way and a wrong way to breathe, and that you cannot
breathe right when you are sitting, standing, or lying in an unnatural
position.
“There is one other bad sitting position to which I wish to call your
attention. It arises from not keeping the arms on the same level, and is
generally caused by sitting at a table or desk that is too high or too
low. In resting one elbow, you throw up the shoulder on one side, and
depress the other, and the spine is thus made very crooked. You should
keep your shoulders as level as possible. Heads up, chest erect and
straight, and shoulders square and thrown back—that’s the true position.
Now, boys, you may go to your rooms, and see if you can put this lesson
in practice.”
A few days after this, Whistler received another physiological lesson,
which made a still deeper impression upon his mind. It happened in this
wise. Ettie had a beautiful kitten, to which she was very much attached.
It was as white as snow, with the exception of its feet, and a black
spot under its neck. Its fur was very fine, soft and clean. One
afternoon, on returning from school, Whistler found the kitten asleep in
a little apartment which was devoted to Ettie’s especial use as a
play-room. His sister’s playthings were scattered over the floor, and
among them was a small box in which she kept many of her valuables, and
which she called her work-box. It was made of mahogany, and the top slid
on in a groove. Thoughtless of everything but fun, Whistler deposited
kitty in the box, and closed the top, chuckling to himself as he
imagined how Ettie would jump when she returned to her sports and opened
pussy’s prison.
In the evening Ettie searched the house from cellar to attic for her
kitten, but it did not come to her call. Besides herself, no one was at
home but her father and the domestic, the rest of the family having gone
to hear the band play upon the Common, this being one of the evenings in
which music was provided for the public at the city’s expense. Ettie,
however, would give neither her father nor the domestic any peace until
they had joined her in the search; and when, after thoroughly exploring
the premises, outdoors and in, without avail, they told her she must go
to bed without seeing the kitty, she did not yield to their wishes
without some tears, although assured that the little stray-away would
doubtless come home in the morning.
The next morning Ettie was among the first in the family to arise, and
she anxiously resumed her search for the lost kitten. Whistler heard her
from his chamber, and his intended joke then flashed upon his mind,
almost for the first time since he shut the box upon the kitten.
Hurriedly dressing himself, he went down to Ettie’s play-room, and found
the box just as he left it. Drawing off the cover, there lay the missing
kitten, cold and stiff in death. It had evidently died of suffocation,
or want of air. The joints of the box were fitted together with glue,
and the top slid on very snugly, so that it was nearly air-tight.
Whistler felt sad enough at this unexpected issue of an act of
playfulness. His sadness was greatly increased by the consciousness
which flashed upon him that he was not altogether innocent in the
matter. But, at the same moment, another thought flashed upon his mind,
and that was, that the fate of the kitten need never be known to any one
else. Fortunately he had said nothing about shutting her up, and it
would now be very easy to dispose of her remains in a private manner. He
was not sure but that it would be a kindness to Ettie to leave her in
the dark as to the sad and untimely fate of her four-footed playmate.
Then he thought of an admonition which his father had often urged upon
him from early childhood. It was this: “When you accidentally do any
mischief, always promptly confess it, for I can forgive your
carelessness much more easily than your attempt at concealment.” He had
been too faithfully trained to this excellent rule to disregard it now;
and he made up his mind very quickly what course to pursue. Shutting up
the box, and placing it where Ettie could not get at it, he went to his
father’s chamber door, and knocked. Mr. Davenport was dressing himself,
and admitted him.
“Father, I have done some mischief, but I didn’t mean to,” said
Whistler, with some hesitation.
“What now?—some more of your heedlessness?” inquired his father.
Whistler related his unhappy attempt at a joke, and its sad sequel.
“Well,” said his father, when he had finished his confession, “that was
very bright in you, I must confess. Didn’t you know that cats have
lungs, and can’t live without air? What has become of all the physiology
you have learned at school and at home? Couldn’t you put enough of it in
practice to save that poor kitten’s life?”
Whistler was silent. He was almost as much astonished as his father at
his own thoughtlessness, for his parents had taken unusual pains to
impress upon his mind some of the great laws of health, foremost among
which was the necessity of an abundant supply of pure air. He could
explain the uses of the lungs; he could name the gases of which air is
composed; he knew that a pair of human lungs need a hogshead of fresh
air every hour, to sustain health; and yet it did not occur to him that
a kitten would suffer, and perhaps die, if shut up in a box but little
larger than itself, and nearly air-tight.
“Well, it can’t be helped now; but be more careful hereafter,” added Mr.
Davenport.
“Had I better tell Sissy the kitten is dead, or would you say nothing
about it to her?” inquired Whistler.
“Yes, go at once and tell her about it, and don’t keep her in suspense
any longer,” replied his father.
Whistler promptly obeyed, breaking the news as gently as possible to his
little sister; but, in spite of his precautions, she gave vent to a
flood of tears, and refused to be comforted. Poor kitty had one sincere
mourner.
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