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body lightsome, the temper cheerful, and all the animal fructions performed agreeably. Sleep, when it follows, will be natural and vndisturbed, while indolence, with full feeding, occasions nightmares, and horrors inexpressible: we fall from precipices, are assaulted by wild beasts, mur. derers, and demons, and experience every variety of dis. tress. Observe, however, that the quantity of food and exercise are relative things: those who move much may, and indeed ought, to eat more; those who use little exercise should eat little. In general, mankind, since the improvement of cookery, eat abont 'twice as much as nature requires. Suppers are not bad, if we have not dined; but restless nights naturally follow hearty suppers, after full dinners. Indeed, as there is a difference in constitutions, some rest well after these meals'; it costs them only a frightful dream and an apoplexy, after which they sleep

till doomsday. Nothing is more common in the news. e papers, than instances of people, who, after eating a hear.

ty supper, are found dead'a -ved in the morning.

Another means of preserving health, to be attended to, spezil is the having a constant supply of fresh air in your bedbali, chamber. It has been a great inistake, the sleeping in rooms

exactly closed, and in beds surrounded by curtains. No outward air that may come into you is so unwholesome, as the unchanged air, often breathed, of a close chamber. As boiling water does not grow hotter by longer boiling, if the particles that receive greater heat can escape; so

living bodies do not putrify, if the particles, as fast as INC they become putrid, e can be thrown off. Nature expels

them by the pores of the skin and the lungs, and in a free open air they are carried off; but in a close room, W receive them again and again, though they become more and more corrupt. A number of persons crowded into a small room thus spoil the air in a few niinutes, and even render it mortal, as in the Black Hole at Calcutta. A single person is said to spoil only a gallon of air per

minute, and therefore requires a longer time to spoil a vring chamber full; but it is done, however in proportion, and infolt many putrid disorders hence have their origin. It is record. e one ad of Methuselah who, being the longest iiver, may be nary, supposed to have best preserved his health, that he slept sle days in the open air; for, when he had lived 500 years,

*i angel said to him; «Arise, Methuselah, an build thee 10+ a house, for thou shalt live yet 500 years longer.» But

Methuselah answered and said, “If I am to live but 500 years longer, it is not worth while to build me an house

I will sleep in the air, as I have been used to do. ,

Physicians, after having for ages contended, that the sick bel should not be indulged with fresh air, have at length

pfi discovered, that it may do them good. It is therefore to it'i be hoped, that they may in time discover likewise, that it

is not hurtful to those who are in health, and that we éir may be then cured of the aerophobia, that at present dis.

tresses weak minds, and makes them' choose to be stifled

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and poisoned, rather than leave open the window of a bed-chamber, or put down the glass of a coach.

Confined air, when saturated with perspirable matter*), will not receive more; and that matter must remain in our bodies, and occasion diseases : but it gives some previous notice of its being about to be hurtful, by producing certain uneasinesses, slight indeed at first, such as, with regard to the lungs. is a trifling sensation, and to the pores of the skin a kind of restlessness, which is difficult to describe, and few that feel it know the canse of its But we may recollect, that sometimes, on waking in the night, we have, if warmly covered, found it difficult to get asleep again. We turn often without finding repose in any position. This fidgettiness, to use a vulgar expres. sion for want of a better, is occasioned wholly by an uneasiness in the skin, owing to the retension of the perspirable matter the bed clothes having received their quantity, and, being saturated, refusing to take any more, To become sensible of this by an experiment, let a person keep his position in the bed, but throw off the bed-clothes, and suffer fresh air to approach the part uncovered of his body; he will then feel that part suddenly refreshed; for' the air will immediately relieve the skin, by receiving, licking up, and carrying off, the load of perspirable matter that incommoded it. For every portion of cool air, that approaches the warm skin, in receiving its part of that vapour, receives therewith a degree of heat, that rarefies and ren. ders it lighter, when it will be pushed away, with its burthen, by cooler and therefore heavier fresh air; which, for a noment, supplies its place, and then, being likewise chang. ed and warmed, gives way to a succeeding quantity. This is the order of nature, to prevent animals being infected by their own perspiration. He will now be sensible of the difference between the part exposed to the air, and that which, remaining sunk in the bed, denies the air access: for this part now manifests its uneasiness more distinctly by the comparison, and the seat of the uneasiness is more plainly perceived, than when the whole surface of the body was affected by it.

Here, then, is one great and general cause of unpleasing dreams. For when the body is uneasy, the mind will be disturbed by it, and disagreeable ideas of various kinds will, in sleep, be the natural consequences. The remedies, preventative and curative, follow:

1. By eating moderately (as before advised for health's sake) less perspirable matter is produced in a given tiine; hence the bed - clothes receive it longer before they are saturated; and we may, therefore, sleep longer, before we are made uneasy by their refusing to receive any more. *) What physicians call the perspirable matter, is that vapoar which

passes off from our bodies, from the lungs, and through the pores
the skin. The quantity of this is said to be five-eighths of what

of

we eat

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2. By using thinner and more porous bed-clothes, which will suffer the perspirable matter more easily to pass through them, we are less incommoded, such being longer tolerable.

3. When you are awakened by this uneasiness, and find you cannot easily sleep again, get out of bed, beat up and tarn your pillow, shake the bed-clothes well, with at least twenty shakes, then throw the bed open, and leave it to cool; in the meanwhile, continuing undressed, walk about your chamber, till your skin has had time to discharge its load, which it will do sooner as the air may be drier and colder. When you begin to feel the cold air unpleasant, then return to your bed and you will soon fall asleep, and your sleep will be sweet and pleasant. All the scenes presented to your fancy will be of the pleasing kind. I am often as agreeably entertained with them, as by the scenery of an opera. If you happen to be too in. dolent to get out of bed, you may, instead of it, lift up your bed-clothes with one arm and leg, so as to draw in a good deal of fresh air, and, by letting them fall, force it out again. This, repeated twenty tinies, will só clear them of the perspirable matter they have imbibed as to permit your sleeping well for some time afterwards. But this latter method is not equal to the former.

Those who do not love trouble, and can afford to have two beds, will find great luxury in rising. when they wake in a hot bed, and going into the cool one. Such shifting of beds would also be of great service to persons ill of a fever, as it refreshes, and frequently procures sleep. A very large bed, that will admit a renoval so distant from the first situation as to be cool and sweet, may in a de. gree answer the same end.

One or two observations more will conclude this little piece. Care must be taken when you lie down, to dispose your pillow so as to suit your manner of placing your head, and to be perfectly easy; then place your limbs so as not to bear inconveniently hard upon one another, as, for instance, the joins of your ancles: for though a' bad position may at first give but little pain, and be hardly noticed, yet a continuance will render it less tolerable, and the uneasiness may come on while you are asleep, and disturb your imagination.

These are the rules of the art. But though they will generally prove effectual in producing the end intended. there is a case in which the most punctual observance of them will be totally fruitless. I need not mention the case to you, my dear friend, but my account of the art would be iniperfect without it. The case is, when the person, who desires to have pleasant dreams, has not taken care to preserve, what is neccessary above all things,

A GOOD CONSCIENCE.

TO DOCTOR MATHER OF BOSTON.

Effect of early Impression on the Mind.

REV. SIR.

I received your kind letter, with your excellent advice to the people of the United states, which I read with great pleasure, and hope it will be duly regarded. Such writings, though they may be lighthly passed over by many readers, yet, if they make a deep impression on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be considerable.

Permit me to mention one little instance, which, though it relates to myself, will not be quite uninteresting to you. When I was a boy, I met with a book entitled, “Essays to do Good,» which I think was written by your father. It had been so little regarded by a former possessor, that several leaves of it were torn out; but the remainder gave me such a turn of thinking, as to have an influence on my conduct through life: for I have always set a greater value on the character of a doer of good, thau any other kind of reputation; and if I have been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the public owes the ad. vantage of it to that book.

You mention your being in your seventy-eighth year. I am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown old together. It is now more than sixty years since I left Boston; but I remember well both your father and grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. The last time I saw your father was in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him after my first trip to Pennsylvania. He received me in his library; and, on my taking leave, showed me a shorter way out of the house, through a narrow passage, which was crossed by a beam overhead. We were still talking as I withdrew, he accompanying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, when he said hastily, “Stoop, stoop!, I did not under. stand him, till I felt my head hit against the beam. He was a man who never missed any occasion of giving in. struction and upon this he said to me: “You are young, and have the world before you: stoop as you go through it, and you will miss many hard thumps. » This advice, thus beat into my heart, has frequently been of use to me: and I often think of it, when I see pride mortified,

aad misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying their heads too high.

I long much to see again my native place; and once hoped to lay my bones there. I left it in 1723. I visited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763; and in 1773, I was in England. In 1775, I had a sight of it, but could not enter, it being in possession of the enemy. I did hope to

have been there in 1783, but could not obtain my dimis. sion from this employment here; and now I fear I shall never have that happiness. My best wishes however at. tend my dear country, “esto perpetua. It is now blessed with an excellent constitution: may it last for ever!

This powerful monarchy continues its friendship for the United States. It is a friendship of the utmost importance to our security, and should be carefully cultivat. ed. Britain has not yet well digested the loss of its do. minion over us; and has still at times some flattering hopes of rec ering it. Accidents may increase those hopes, and encourage dangerous attempts. A breach between as and France would infallibly bring the English again upon our backs; and yet we have some wild beasts among our countrymen, who are endeavouring to weaken that connection.

Let us preserve our reputation, by performing our en. gagements; our credit, by fulfilling our contracts; and our friend's by gratitude and kindness: for we know not how soon we may again have occasion for all of them. With great and sincere esteem,

I have the hononr to be,

Reverend Sir,
Your most obedient and most humble servant,

B. FRANKLIN.
Passy, May 12, 1784.

TO JOHN ALLEYNE, ESQ.

On early Marriages.

Craven Street, Aug. 9, 1763. DEAR JACK, You desire, you say, my impartial thoughts on the subject of an early marriage, by way of answer to the numberless objections, that have been made by numberless persons, to your own. You may remember, when you consulted me on the occasion, that I thought youth on both sides to be no objection. Indeed, from the marriages that have fallen under my observation, I am rather inclined to think, that early ones stand the best change of happiness. The temper and habits of the young are not yet become so stiff and uncomplying, as when more ad. vanced in life; they form more easily to each other, and hence many occasions of disgust are removed. And if youth has less of that prudence, which is necessary to inanage a family, yet the parents and elder friends of young married persons are generally at hand to afford their ad

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