I have at night? I might store a little day-air in my
room, but I would soon exhaust its life-giving qualities at night.
You know, mother," he went on in the assurance of his newly acquired
knowledge, "I guess the Lord knew what He was about when He enveloped
the earth with air which presses down nearly fifteen pounds to the
square inch so that it might permeate every possible nook and corner of
the globe." Then he went on to explain the wonderful process of blood
purification in the lungs, and demonstrated to her that the breath is
continually throwing off foul matter. He did this by breathing into a
fruit jar, screwing on the lid for a little while, and then having the
nose make the test.

"Some bed rooms I've gone into smell just like that," he said.

"Here, mother is a clipping from a magazine. Listen:

"'Of all the marvels of God's workmanship, none is more wondrous than
the air. Think of our all being bathed in a substance so delicate as to
be itself unperceived, yet so dense as to be the carriage to our senses
of messages from the world about us! It is never in our way; it does not
ask notice; we only know it is there by the good it does us. And this
exquisitely soft, pure, yielding, unseen being, like a beautiful and
beneficent fairy, brings us blessings from all around. It has the skill
to wash our blood clean from all foulness. Its weight keeps us from
tumbling to pieces. It is a reservoir where the waters lie stored, until
they fall and gladden the earth. It is a great-coat that softens to us
the heat of the day, and the cold of the night. It carries sounds to
our ears and smells to our nostrils. Its movements fill Nature with
ceaseless change; and without their aid in wafting ships over the sea,
commerce and civilization would have been scarce possible. It is of all
wonders the most wonderful.'"

At another time when Dorian had a cold, and consequently, a loss of
appetite, his mother urged him to eat more, saying that he must have
strength to throw off his cold.

"What is a cold?" he smilingly asked.

"Why, a cold is--a cold, of course, you silly boy."

"What does it do to the activities of the body?"

"I'm not a doctor; how can I tell."

"All mothers are doctors and nurses; they do a lot of good, and some
things that are not so good. For instance, why should I eat more when I
have a cold?" She did not reply, and so he went on: "The body is very
much like a stove or a furnace; it is burning materia