An account of a useful discovery to distill double the usual quantity of sea-water, by blowing showers of air up through the distilling liquor : $b and an account of the great benefit of ventilators in many instances, in preserving the health and lives of people, in slave and other transport ships ... also an account of the good effect of blowing showers of air up through milk, thereby to cure the ill taste which is occasioned by some kinds of food of cows.

Fresh water was a constant nightmare for sailors, and every drop of fuel burned to produce a few ounces of drinkable water felt like a cruel bargain. In this lively nineteenth‑century account, a curious engineer shares how a simple trick—forcing a steady shower of air through the boiling liquor—doubles the output of distilled seawater while slashing the fire’s appetite. The narrative walks listeners through the modest experiments, the clever tin‑box apparatus, and the surprising moment when the bubbling still begins to yield a torrent of clear water.

Beyond the laboratory, the author expands the idea to the very decks of ships, showing how ventilators that push fresh air through cramped holds can dramatically cut illness and mortality among crews and passengers alike. The same principle even rescues sour‑tasting milk, turning a problematic beverage into something pleasant in minutes.

The work blends practical engineering with vivid anecdotes from the Royal Society’s halls, offering a window onto early scientific ingenuity that still resonates with anyone fascinated by the art of turning scarcity into abundance.