Who Tied Down the Bellows?
By Christian Reid
In the old days, before we had found out that coal would burn, and when only wood was used, it was not always easily kindled, especially if it was what is called “green”—not dry. Then there were no matches; our young people hardly know what a little time it is since matches began to be used. Then if you wanted to make a fire you had to carry coals, and there was no blaze until you could blow it up to a blaze with air. People blew with the mouth fit to blow the breath away, and so he was well off who had bellows, with two handles and a nose, or pipe, out of which you could blow the air. The blacksmith uses a big pair to make his fire hot. One day the fire did not burn well; it was a wood fire, such as people have again now. They are very pleasant, but will not make a room very warm in cold weather. We had a fire, for the brightness and cheeriness, and the doctor—Dr. Ellis, you know—liked to see it. So he called out, “Grace, won’t you start up the fire a little?” It was just at twilight; the lights had not been brought in, and Grace reached out her hand and took the bellows and blew a little, feeble stream of air that did no good whatever to the fire. She looked, and thought, perhaps, she had them upside down, for there is a hole on the under side, where the air draws in, and then a little flap falls down inside and keeps the air from coming out that way, and sends it through the nozzle. But if the bellows are upside down, this little trap falls open. No; the hole was right and yet there was no air. “Pshaw!” said Harry, “you can’t blow worth a cent,” and he took the bellows out of Grace’s hands. Harry was a boy who could always do things better than any one else, at least in his own opinion. He went to work with great zeal, with much more zeal than success. “What’s the matter? the mean things won’t half open!” “Let me try,” said Susan; “you must hold them so. Oh, I see! somebody has tied them together. Now, John, you’re always in mischief.” “I didn’t,” said John; “I don’t like to be blamed when I don’t do things,” and there was a prospect of a lively dispute. “Stop, children!” said Dr. Ellis; “I tied them; but don’t you see, they will work just as well,” and he began to use them, it must be owned with very small success. “Why, how absurd!” broke in Susan, taking hold of them. “Of course the bellows can’t do any good tied up in this way;” and she proceeded to loosen the string. “There!” “But,” said the doctor, “you told me yesterday that it made no difference.” “Why, papa!—oh!” and she stopped, conscious—for her father had gently told her she was wearing her dress too tight about the waist, and that her bellows, that is, her lungs, which, with the ribs, work in the same way, were tied down too tightly, and could not do their full work. Down in her inmost soul Susan was conscious that her dress was a trifle tight, but she hoped to train herself, or reduce herself, or get used to it. It was so very nice to have a slender, trim waist! And as she was an honest girl, and did not really mean to do wrong, this lesson rather came home to her. She saw a great many girls who breathed up and down with their shoulders because their lungs had not room “east and west,” as her father said, and she saw corsets advertised “for day and night wear” for the poor misguided souls who did not know how the good God had made them; she would not be so wicked; but, then, it was dreadful not to look trim and nice! So Susan and her sister both understood the lesson of the bellows, and took it to heart. Their father meant to interpose his authority, if necessary, but he much preferred they should see for themselves and apply the lesson. He took off the string, and the bellows worked freely; he picked up the cat, who was quietly taking her ease by the fire, and showed how her ribs moved and swelled at every breath. Then he proceeded to put a band around her and prevent this motion of her ribs. But pussy had no pride, and was not willing to be made uncomfortable, especially as there was so little to be gained by it. So she resolutely protested against a tight band, to say nothing of corsets. Sensible cat! The doctor then went on to talk incidentally of the Flathead skull and the Chinese foot, to show how much the frame can bear and live, made some incidental allusions to high heels and pinched toes as not being exactly what the Maker of all intended, and left his lessons to work their purpose. Then he hung up the bellows by the side of the fire-place, and they went out to tea.—Christian Reid, in Christian Union.