If the quantity of rain and snow falling at all seasons in a given district depended on itself for the supply, then the amount of water precipitated would, were the winds out of consideration, be determined by the amount of lake, river, and ocean surface within its own boundaries. In this event Minnesota would among the States occupy the very highest place on the scale,—with, perhaps, a single exception,—since the whole face of the commonwealth is dotted all over with lakes, sliced with rivers, and skirted in addition by a great inland sea.

To many who travel over the State it seems a marvel that the atmosphere should have any elasticity or any tonic properties.

It is, however, known that countries are usually dependent, for the beneficent rains falling over them, on oceans quite remote, where the sun, in its tropical splendor and power, lifts high in air immense volumes of water in a state of evaporation, which, borne on the "wings of the wind," speeds rapidly away to supply the drying rivers and fountains of the globe. This aerial pathway supplies the link in the great circuit by which all the waters of all the oceans pass over our heads, returning again under our feet to their natural home.

Of course the water area of all sections of the temperate latitudes contribute something to the precipitation; yet it is but a fractional part of the whole, and quite inconsiderable. Still its influence is sufficient to make it observable near large seas like our own inland system, where the quantity falling is, in the cooler portions of the year, increased in consequence of the then higher temperature of the water of the lakes over that of the adjacent land districts. In summer, the only effect is to increase the humidity of the atmosphere and frequency of rains, without adding to the quantity. This phenomenon is seen on the shores of all the lakes, and especially in the Lake Superior region. But this influence does not extend westward to exceed the distance of, we should say, fifty miles, and does not consequently effect to any important degree the climate of Minnesota, except the outlying rim described. The small lakes and rivers do not contribute much to the precipitation of rain within the State boundaries. They may add slightly to that of the lake district to the eastward, whither their moisture is borne by the southwesterly and westerly currents. They do undoubtedly have an influence on the temperature, modifying that of the winter very much, and in this respect are valuable as well as beautiful.

The southerly winds, and those having a slight westerly tendency, prevailing a portion of the summer, do not bring hither much of moisture, though at their outset they are heavily ladened with it, as it is borne across the Gulf, in a southwesterly direction, to the open valley of the Mississippi, where, coming in contact with the edge of the great westerly winds, and broken probably somewhat by the elevated district of Mexico and by the foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains, which extend to the northern boundaries of Texas, this humid wind drives, unresisted by any vertical obstruction, up the valley of the "Great River," shedding on either hand its waters profusely; but their force and character, in this long march, become spent, and they add only their proportionate amount of rain to the Minnesota annual fall, while the intermediate districts are chiefly dependent on them.

The northeast winds of spring and autumn, which sweep at times half across the continent, usually begin at a low point along the Atlantic coast—driving sometimes furiously, and always persistently, its hurried, chilling current inland,—is baffled by this southwesterly current of the Gulf, and always, sooner or later, turned, as it moves up the coast and interior by the overpowering and underlying continental winds which drive it back, bringing these northeasterly storms to us, nearly always from a southwest quarter. We enlarge upon this class of rain-storms for the purpose of showing, though imperfectly, their non-prevalence over the State of Minnesota. This is important if it can be, even but partially, established; since it is this particular class of storms and winds, last referred to, that are to be so much avoided and to which can be traced the initial point of most pulmonic troubles.

These storms from the northeast may begin in Texas, their course being north and eastward; as that by the time they reach so northerly a point as New York, their westward limit may not exceed St. Louis; and, in further illustration, when Quebec feels the force of the storm, Chicago is at its extreme western limit. This supposed course will convey the general idea of the track of a northeaster when it envelops the whole variable-climatic district of the Union. There is a singular eddy known to all climatologists to exist in Iowa, where the annual precipitation of water is great, exceeding that of all the surrounding States. There has been no positive theory advanced, to our knowledge, explaining this circumstance, but the mystery is solved, to our minds, quite clearly. This eddy makes the key-point of contact of the humid Gulf winds with the cool winds of the westerly current, and likewise being the northwestern terminal point of the course of the great northeasters, the contact being the cause of the excess in precipitation. We were fortunate, while visiting last autumn this special wet district of Iowa, to experience one of these triangular storms. We were at Dubuque while the wind was blowing gently from the south-southwest, with low scattering clouds, and before night it began to thicken and rain, while, in the night, the wind shifted to the east, blowing the rain briskly before it. This continued a part of the following forenoon, when, taking the train west to Rockford, northwest of Dubuque, we reached nearly the edge of the easterly storm, which had been here simply a drizzling rain. The next day the rain had ceased, the wind had shifted to the northwest, rapidly drying the earth, and the clouds, both of the upper and lower strata, were all driving hurriedly east-southeast. We left the following day for Fort Dodge and Sioux City. At the former place they had had a slight shower only, with shifting winds; while at Sioux City not a particle of rain had fallen, the roads being not only dry but quite dusty. This was not a merely local storm, but was the only great easterly one covering any extent of territory and time, answering to the equinoctial, which visited the United States during last autumn.

This special limit of storms, this eddy of the winds in Iowa, deviates more or less in the district assigned to it, and, at times, some of these northeasters undoubtedly blow over Minnesota, but they are few, and much modified in kind and character. The elevation of the State over other portions of the great valley south of it adds something probably in determining the outline of the Iowa basin of precipitation.

The range of the thermometer in the hot season is, in Minnesota, above that of places occupying the same lines of latitude; this is caused, in part, by the arid continental winds and by a less cloud-obstructed sunshine, but the heat is not correspondingly oppressive with that of other localities, since the atmosphere is not as humid. The evaporation under this heat of summer rises out of the immediate region of the surface, and is borne away on the prevailing winds to the lake district and eastward. It is unfortunate that there have been no tests of a hygrometic character maintained through any great period, whereby reliable data could be adduced, since it would have seemed as easy for the government to have undertaken that branch of meteorology as any other, it only requiring a more careful and accurate hand than do the other observations. The delicacy of these experiments have proved too wearisome for private parties, and there is over the whole country a lack of this scientific evidence. The last report of one of the cabinet ministers at Washington calls attention to the need, and benefit arising from reliable testimony, under this head, and asks an appropriation, which it is hoped may be granted, in the interests of both health, agriculture, and science generally.

The question of climatic treatment and cure for certain ills is receiving yearly increased attention, and this will continue until a specific climate is found for many of the most destructive diseases afflicting the race.

FOOTNOTES:

[C] The various tables are chiefly from Blodgett's Climatology, to which we are otherwise much indebted.



CHAPTER VII.

CONSUMPTION.

Consumption mapped out.—The east winds.—Comparative statistics.—Number of original cases of consumption in Minnesota.—Consumption can be cured.—Rev. Jeremiah Day.—Fresh air the best medicine.—The benefit of a dry atmosphere.—Equability of temperature.—The power of the mind over disease.—Kinds of consumption.—Danger in delays.

To all who are afflicted or threatened with pulmonic troubles the climate of Minnesota becomes, in view of its reputed freedom from this scourge, an interesting subject of inquiry.

For a long time it was maintained that this disease was not affected by climate, but that it was the child of other causes, and that its cure was impossible; and dread of its visitation became as great as at the approach of any of the great maladies afflicting mankind.

Later and wiser investigation has proved it to be so much controlled by climate that it may be practically located on a chart of the globe, if all the climatic conditions are fully known. Of course, it is not absolutely confined to any given limit, more than is the yellow fever, which sometimes makes its appearance as high as the forty-second degree of latitude, while its actual home, so to speak, is, on this continent, below the thirty-fifth parallel.

In a medical chart of this country, which we had occasion to examine many years since, the district where consumption attained its maximum range was outlined along the coast, beginning with the State of Maine, having a semi-circular sweep to Fortress Monroe in Virginia, with an inland limit varying from one to two hundred miles. This is well known, now, to all the medical profession, to be the territory where phthisis pulmonalis has greatest sweep, and this is conceded to be, for the most part, caused by the marked peculiarities of climate existing over all this area. These peculiarities have, in some of the immediately preceding chapters, been duly though briefly set forth, and we now proceed to the consideration of the sanitary value of the Minnesota air and its effects on lung diseases as experienced by sufferers and observed by others, together with some of its leading characteristics.

If it has been sufficiently shown that the temperature of the district in which consumption prevails most is a highly variable one, passing almost daily from a low to a high point in the thermometric scale, with the prevailing winds to be those in which east largely enters; and that these winds come laden with a cold moisture, borne from off the surface of the North Atlantic, which, when exposed to their sweep, chill the person and pave the way to colds, catarrhs, rheumatism, pneumonia, and a score of other ills scarcely less harassing and destructive, and all of which give rise to the "great destroyer," as it has been sometimes called. If, as we have said, these points have been proved to be the leading ear-marks of this special locality, what, we may ask, are the characteristics, briefly stated, of the climate of the State, which is known to be comparatively free from, and, in very many instances, to have wrought for the sufferer a complete restoration of health and strength? They have been seen to be almost the exact antipodes of that of the consumptive district before named. Instead of the northeast wind, there is the northwest, or at least the prevailing winds from some point into which west enters; bringing, in place of the cold, humid atmosphere of the North Atlantic, the dry continental winds from the interior, which, in conjunction with the high altitude and peculiar geographical position of the State, give, instead of the extreme variable temperature, an equable and a relatively dry atmosphere, having a bracing, tonic effect on the whole man, affording opportunity for unrestrained exercise in the open air, causing good digestion to wait on appetite, and with these the advent of fresh wholesome blood, which is the physician to heal the diseased portions of the lungs, and restore healthful action to all of the inflamed parts.

In confirmation of the high value of this State as a residence for invalids of the class to which special reference is made, we extract from the last census report the following statistics, showing the average number of deaths from consumption in the following States to be

One in 254 in Massachusetts, One in 473 in New York, One in 757 in Virginia, One in 1139 in Minnesota.

This speaks for the climate more of praise than it is possible for any scientific speculation to do, since it is the practical and final test as well as the most satisfactory.

Undoubtedly, the relative disproportion would be very much greater if the number of deaths of those who go from other States, after it is too late for them to receive any benefit, could be eliminated from the actual number that die from among the inhabitants themselves. The question may arise right here among some of the more skeptical, how it is that any of the population are afflicted with this disease, if the climate is such an enemy to it? We answer—that full half of the deaths reported from phthisis are of those who come too late—as before stated—and a fourth of the whole number we know to be from among those who are not natives, but yet are of the regular inhabitants, whose lives have been prolonged here, and who from improper exposure or neglect of wholesome rules (which they at first rigidly followed, but growing better, neglected to maintain), have paid the penalty. Not over one-third of the entire list of inhabitants of the State, up to the present time, are natives; hence deaths from consumption among the remaining two-thirds cannot be attributed, by any fair inference, to the direct influence of the climate. This still leaves a fourth of the whole number of deaths from this scourge to fall on those who "are to the manner born." This is a very trifling percentage, and might be waived as not being a fraction sufficiently important to merit much attention; but we may frankly admit that these cases appear here, and are the result of a want of a perfect equability in the climate, and to this extent it must be held answerable. We might, however, conclude that even this final fraction could be accounted for in the hereditary taint, but we forbear, as we likewise do to claim entire exemption here from this complaint. No climate, perhaps, in any portion of the whole habitable earth, could be found to be utterly exempt. Then, too, consumption is to general debility a natural sequence, almost as much as flame is to powder when exploded; and as there are likely in all climates, however favorable, to be found worn-out and exhausted humanity, why, there must be expected untimely deaths culminating in this disease.

The curability of consumption is now a settled question. Every medical student has either seen for himself or been assured by his professor that post mortem examinations have disclosed this truth beyond all cavil. Numerous cases might be cited where, at an early period in life, tubercles had formed, and by-and-by, probably in consequence of a change in the habits of life, these disappeared, leaving naught but old cicatrices as evidence of their previous diseased condition. These tubercular deposits must have disposed of themselves in one of three ways: first, they might soften down and be expectorated; second, they might soften and be absorbed; or, thirdly, they might become calcined and remain as inert foreign material. In many cases all these processes might unite in the removal, and a long life follow, as is well known in some instances to be true.

An eminent instance in point occurs to us as we write, and which is worthy of citation in these pages. The lamented Rev. Jeremiah Day, once President of Yale College, when a young man, had "consumption," and was expected to die, but by a rigid observance of the laws of health, and self-imposition of stated exercise of a vigorous nature in the open air, he, by these means and without much of travel, restored his debilitated frame and healed the diseased lungs, and died at the rare age of ninety-five, having lived a life of uncommon usefulness and activity. He could not have accomplished his restoration without many and daily sacrifices compared with the lot of his fellow-men. A post mortem showed plainly that both apices of the lungs had been diseased.

There are many cases, of which no knowledge exists outside of a small circle, of restored health, though with impaired power of respiration and consequent endurance of great hardships, which latter, of course, must be entirely avoided by those thus situated. There is, too, even greater liability to a fresh attack than with persons who have never been afflicted, but the vigilance necessary to maintain health fortifies against its repetition.

One of the essentials in effecting a cure is FRESH AIR; and if this can be had in such form as to give more of oxygen—the vital element—than is usually found, the healing processes must be accelerated, beyond doubt. The family physician will tell you this. Now, under what circumstances is a larger amount of oxygen found? What climate affords most, all other things being equal? It certainly is not a hot climate, nor a variable moist one such as prevails all over the consumptive district which we have indicated at the beginning of this chapter. It is found in a cool, dry climate, and this condition is had in Minnesota with greater correlative advantages than in any other section of the Union known up to this time. The atmosphere is composed of two gases, oxygen and nitrogen, and in every one hundred parts of common air there are about seventy-five parts of nitrogen and twenty-five of oxygen, subject to expansion from heat and of contraction from cold. This accounts in part for the general lassitude felt in a warm atmosphere, while a corresponding degree of vigor obtains in a cold one. The condensation, the result of a cool temperature, gives to the lungs a much larger amount of oxygen at a single inspiration, and, of course, for the day the difference is truly wonderful. The blood is borne by each pulsation of the heart to the air-cells of the lungs for vitalization by means of the oxygen inhaled—the only portion of the air used by the lungs—giving it a constantly renewing power to energize the whole man. If a cold climate is attended with great humidity, or raw, chilling winds, the object is defeated and the diseased member aggravated, as would also be the case even if the climate was not a cold, raw one, but was a variable cold one; as then the sudden changes would induce colds, pneumonia, and all the train of ills which terminate in this dire calamity we are so anxious to avoid.

Equability and dryness are the essentials of a climate in which consumptives are to receive new or lengthened leases of life.

The following testimony is of such a high value that no apology need be offered for its introduction here. It is, in the first case, from one who was sick but is now well, and, in the other, from a party whose observation and character give weight to opinions.

The able and celebrated divine, the Rev. Horace Bushnell, D.D., of Hartford, Conn., in a letter to the Independent, says:—

"I went to Minnesota early in July, and remained there till the latter part of the May following. I had spent a winter in Cuba without benefit. I had spent also nearly a year in California, making a gain in the dry season and a partial loss in the wet season; returning, however, sufficiently improved to resume my labors. Breaking down again from this only partial recovery, I made the experiment now of Minnesota; and submitting myself, on returning, to a very rigid examination by a physician who did not know at all what verdict had been passed by other physicians before, he said, in accordance with their opinions, 'You have had a difficulty in your right lung, but it is healed.' I had suspected from my symptoms that it might be so, and the fact appears to be confirmed by the further fact, that I have been slowly, though regularly, gaining all summer.

"This improvement, or partial recovery, I attribute to the climate of Minnesota. But not to this alone, other things have concurred.

"First, I had a naturally firm, enduring constitution, which had only given way under excessive burdens of labor, and had no vestige of hereditary disease upon it.

"Secondly, I had all my burdens thrown off, and a state of complete, uncaring rest.

"Thirdly, I was in such vigor as to be out in the open air, on horseback and otherwise, a good part of the time. It does not follow, by any means, that one who is dying of hereditary consumption, or one who is too far gone to have any powers of endurance, or spring of recuperative energy left, will be recovered in the same way. A great many go there to die, and some to be partially recovered and then die; for I knew two young men, so far recovered as to think themselves well, or nearly so, who by over-violent exertion brought on a recurrence of bleeding, and died. * * * The general opinion seemed to be that the result was attributable, in part, to the over tonic property of the atmosphere. And I have known of very many remarkable cases of recovery there which had seemed to be hopeless. One, of a gentleman who was carried there on a litter, and became a hearty, robust man. Another, who told me that he coughed up bits of his lungs of the size of a walnut, was there seven or eight months after, a perfectly sound-looking, well-set man, with no cough at all. I fell in with somebody every few days who had come there and been restored; and with multitudes of others, whose disease had been arrested so as to allow the prosecution of business, and whose lease of life, as they had no doubt, was much lengthened by their migration to that region of the country. Of course it will be understood that a great many are sadly disappointed in going thither. * * *

"The peculiar benefit of the climate appears to be its dryness. There is much rain in the summer months, as elsewhere, but it comes more generally in the night, and the days that follow brighten out in a fresh, tonic brilliancy, as dry, almost, as before. The winter climate is intensely cold, and yet so dry and clear and still, for the most part, as to create no very great degree of suffering. One who is properly dressed, finds the climate much more agreeable than the amphibious, half-fluid, half-solid, sloppy, gravelike chill of the East. The snows are light—a kind of snow-dew, that makes about an inch, or sometimes three, in a night. Real snowstorms are rare; there was none the winter I spent there. A little more snow, to make better sleighing, would have been an improvement. As to rain in winter it is almost unknown. There was not a drop of it the season I was there, from the latter part of October to the middle, or about the middle, of March, except a slight drizzle on Thanksgiving Day. And there was not melting snow enough, for more than eight or ten days, to wet a deerskin moccasin, which many of the gentlemen wear all winter."

The Rev. H.A. Boardman, D.D., of Philadelphia, writes under date of October, 1868, to a public journal, the following: "* * * The question is often asked, 'how far is St. Paul to be recommended as a resort for invalids?' If one may judge from indications on the spot, invalids themselves have settled this question. I have never visited a town where one encounters so many persons that bear the impress of delicate health, present or past. In the stores and shops, in the street and by the fireside, it is an every-day experience to meet with residents who came to Minnesota, one, two, five, or ten years ago, for their health, and having regained, decided to remain. I have talked with some who, having recovered, went away twice over, and then made up their minds that to live at all they must live here. * * * * *"

The statements of these observing and reflecting men are of the first importance, and require no scientific deductions to prove the benefit certain classes of consumptives may receive by a residence in Minnesota; but if it is found that whatever of data in meteorology there is bearing on the climate of this State, confirms the universal public judgment, this then becomes a matter of most agreeable interest.

It seems that the dryness and equability are the important features, as before observed. A gentleman, given somewhat to investigation, made the statement to us, while in St. Paul, that he had carefully watched the ice-pitcher on his table during the summers, and that it was rare that any moisture accumulated upon the outside of the same, as is commonly the case elsewhere. This is itself a most interesting scientific fact, and completely demonstrates the great dryness of the atmosphere during even the wet season of the year, as we have found the rain-fall in summer to be about two-thirds of the whole annual precipitation. Physicians have not generally thought that the summer atmosphere of this State was any improvement upon that of other localities of like altitude, judging from the rain-fall, which, being up to the average of this latitude elsewhere, left as much of moisture, they have concluded, floating near the surface as at other points, and they are led to send patients into less dry districts, or even, as is sometimes the case, to the sea-shore. Graver mistakes could not well occur than these, and it is to be ascribed to the little definite knowledge we as a people have on medico-meteorology. Except for debilitated constitutions, which, it is true, precede many cases of consumption, the sea-shore is to be avoided, especially in every instance of diseased lungs. Doubtless, the habit of advising a trip to the sea-side for the relief and cure of whooping-cough in children has led in great part to this error. The trip to the mountains, if a location is well selected, is likely to be, and usually is, in summer a real benefit. But then, the physician should know something of the reputation of the particular locality to which he sends his patient. To illustrate:—suppose a patient afflicted with phthisis is sent to the White Mountains, and in company or alone, he reaches that region, and we will assume that he settles down at the "Profile House," or at any portion of the hills on their eastern slope, or immediate vicinity, and the result is almost certain to be unfavorable, since constant showers and violent changes of temperature are transpiring throughout the entire summer. If, however, a moderate elevation, away from the immediate influence of the mountains, out of the range of the frequent showers, with a southwest exposure of landscape, where the cool westerly winds have play, decided advantage will come to the sufferer. It would not likely be at once perceptible, but a gradual toning up of the system might be looked for, with an improvement of the general health. Indeed, any change to either the sick or overworked, for that matter, who are able to withstand the fatigue of a journey, is of benefit, even if the climate and location are not improved, as it is well known that a change of scene is a relief and recreation to the mind, which often plays an important part in the recovery of invalids. We all remember the story of the prisoner who had been condemned to suffer death, and at the appointed hour was led blindfolded to the dissecting hall, where were assembled the physicians who were to conduct the experiment. Being duly disrobed and placed, he was informed that an artery was to be opened, and left to bleed till life expired. An incision in the flesh at the back of the neck was made, as a mere feint, and warm water allowed at the same moment to trickle slowly down his shoulder and back, when, in a brief time, spasms set in, and death ultimately followed.

This gives a clear view of the will power inhering in the mental man, and its wonderful influence on the body. Sudden news of misfortune, or great attacks of fear, have produced instant prostration and bodily suffering, and these cases occur so frequent that all within the range of an ordinary life are familiar with them.

An English author speaks of the potent power of the mind over the body, and declares that the act of coughing can be, very often, wholly restrained by mere force of will. This should not be lost sight of by any who are attacked with colds or bronchial troubles, or even in the incipient stages of lung difficulties; as thereby they may lessen the inflammation, and defer the progress of the disease. We have seen people, who, having some slight irritation in the larynx, have, instead of smothering the reflex action, vigorously scraped their throats, and coughed with a persistence entirely unwise, inducing inflammation, from which they might date, perhaps, their subsequent bronchial troubles. It is not in coughs alone that the will exerts a mastery. In a case of fever, by which an elder brother was brought very low, scarce expected by either his friends or physician to survive, a neighbor calling, was allowed to enter the sick-room. The patient was too ill to take much notice of the visitor, and the visitor likely felt that what he might say would not effect the result, and, being rough in manners and coarse of speech, bawled out, in a loud tone, that "he wouldn't give much for his (the patient's) chances," and stalked out of the room. Happening to be present, and fearing the effect of this ill-bred visitor's remark, we drew near the bedside to hear the prostrate invalid whisper out that he was determined to live, if only to spite the old fellow. His recovery seemed to date from that event, and in a few weeks he was in possession of good health.

Consumption is divided into several classes; the more common forms are the inflammatory, the hereditary, the dyspeptic, and the catarrhal. There are others, but these suffice for purposes of brief mention of the leading characteristics of all cases.

The inflammatory is often the more difficult of management than that of the others, as its attack is violent and prostrating to such a degree as to render the usual aids of exercise and diet out of the question, for the most part. Long journeys, for any purpose, are to be avoided, though removals from the immediate sea-coast, to some dry, sandy section in the interior, within a hundred miles or so, is advisable. The robust and strong are equally subject to this class of consumption. Contracting a violent cold, such as might be taken when in a state of excitement and great perspiration in a ball-room or at a fire, and without sufficient protection pass out into the chilling air, inflammation of the lungs immediately takes place, and the chances are great of either a fatal termination of life or a shattered constitution.

The hereditary class are more frequent, and, by proper treatment of themselves, many may attain to a comparatively long life, and be able to do much of valuable service, if their employment takes them out in the open air. Of course many, inheriting this disease and having enfeebled constitutions, cannot be saved, let what will be done, and it is probably a wise provision that they are not. Consumptives should be careful to remember their great responsibility in forming alliances whereby this terrible evil is perpetuated. There should be some law enacted prohibiting the marriage of confirmed cases of scrofula, consumption, and insanity, even though complete recovery be had, as frequently happens in these difficulties.

The dyspeptic cases are numerous, and arise usually from general debility, caused by insufficient or unwholesome diet, close apartments, a too sedentary life, long depression of spirits, coupled with, perhaps, uncleanliness and irregularities, all contributing to this result. These can all be relieved, and many fully restored, if taken in season, by a counter course of living.

The catarrhal forms of consumption are more difficult to treat, and, in numberless instances, baffle all medical skill, and that is very trifling, which can be applied directly to the seat of trouble. Repeated "colds in the head," taken and neglected, become by-and-by confirmed, and pass from the rank of common colds to that of chronic catarrh. Indeed, catarrh is no more or less than a chronic cold in the head; but after the lapse of time, and this may vary in different persons, from one to a score or more of years, it assumes a more virulent character, involving, perhaps, the whole of the breathing apparatus. Its encroachments are insidious, and often are lightly considered, but the general tendency of all cases of catarrhal affections is to the lungs. Sometimes this approach is by a sudden leap, in consequence, probably, of a fresh stock of "cold," from the mucous membranes of the nasal organs to the lungs, and we have in such cases known one of the most eminent physicians of the country to declare, when examinations were made at this juncture, that "catarrh had nothing to do with it." This but illustrates the fallibility of men, and we should never be surprised when confronted with any fresh testimony tending to confirm this truth.

The dry catarrh, while more aggravating, is less fatal, and life is more secure, and not as offensive either to friends or themselves, while other classes of this disease are offensive and more malignant. It is very obstinate, and yields to no treatment of a specific kind that we know of. The same general course should be pursued, however, as with dyspeptic consumptives. The entire medical fraternity are at their absolute wits' ends, so far as any specific is concerned, for this almost universal disease. We say universal, since it is within our knowledge to be largely true, though, while in a mild form, little heed is given it, and generally the party would deny its presence, even while more than half conscious that it might exist. In addition to a generous diet, fresh air, and other matters, of which we shall speak more in detail as we proceed, a nasal douche before retiring, of tepid water, with salt enough added to make a weak brine, as half a teaspoonful to a tumbler, will be in most instances of some benefit. Inhalation and nasal baths must be the specific means of reaching and alleviating this disease.

Thousands annually die of consumption springing out of this malady. Time, it would seem, must discover to the race some more efficient remedy than is now known.

Cold, humid, and variable climates give rise to and feed this disease, and a change to an equable, warm, or a cool and dry temperature, is essential.

Where heart disease is complicated with consumption, a warm, dry climate is best; and in some cases, too, as where bronchitis exists in great disproportion to the amount of tubercular deposit and inflammation of the lungs, the climate of Florida during the winter would be more bland and agreeable than that of Minnesota, but each individual varies so much in constitutional character, that no positive rule can be laid down by which any one case can be judged. This comes within the province of the family physician.

We cannot too strongly urge upon the medical faculty, as well as the friends of the afflicted of whom we have written, that delays are dangerous. Early action on the first manifestations of lung troubles and tendencies is necessary if lives are to be saved. It is hard to turn from the beaten path and enter new, even when larger health is hoped for and needed, yet that should be resolutely done, though it were far better the confining and unhealthful course had not been originally entered upon.



CHAPTER VIII.

CAUSES OF CONSUMPTION.

Prevention better than cure.—Local causes of disease.—Our school system objectionable.—Dr. Bowditch's opinion.—Location of our homes important.—Damp soils prolific of lung troubles.—Bad ventilation.—Value of sunshine.—City girls and city life.—Fashionable society.—Tight lacing fatal to sound health.—Modern living.—The iron hand of fashion.

The proverb that "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," has been almost totally ignored in its relation to the laws which govern health. It seems quite as essential, however, to examine into the cause of disease as it is to seek for remedies which, in many instances, can work but a temporary cure, so long as the cause is overlooked. One is but the sequence of the other; and, to remove the malady, or prevent its recurrence, they have but to remove the cause. This is freely admitted to be the right principle, yet, is it always the course pursued? Do not people mislead themselves much, and, instead of going to the root of difficulty, remain content with what must prove but a temporary restoration?

How often, for example, does the physician, when called to the patient suffering from a cold, inquire to see the shoes or boots of the invalid? Never; the thing is unheard of. Their questions in the direction of causes would not reach half way to the real goal which should be made the point of investigation. Not that the insufficient shoes or boots are going to have any part in the restoration of the invalid; but it may be shown, on examination, that they were the real cause of trouble, and, by a change, prevent in the future a similar attack, from that source at least. The same is true of half the diseases afflicting mankind; their prevention may be assured, to a great extent, by attention to the dictates of hygienic laws, which are no more or less than the laws of moderation and common sense, and not, as many suppose, the law of obligation to eat stale bread, or "cold huckleberry-pudding," all the balance of their lives, though this diet might be beneficial if ghost-seeing and spirit-rapping was determined upon.

Very many cases of fevers can be directly traced to some local cause, which should receive as much attention from the physician as does the patient, and either the one or the other promptly removed. Indeed, people must learn for themselves to investigate the laws regulating health, and thus be able, without the aid of any professional, to decide intelligently all of the more obvious questions.

It does, in this connection, seem that there is great want of judgment on the part of those having the direction of our public schools, in that there is so trifling attention given both the study and observance of the laws which control our existence. What is education without a sound body? what is life to the creature of broken health? and what is there which is more valuable and priceless to us? The answer is plain to all, and yet the whole advancing generation of boys and girls, beyond a mere inkling in physiology, a possible recollection of the number of bones in the human frame, and that common air is composed of two principal gases, they know of hygienic law practically nothing. Worthy pupils of incompetent pedagogues, who, not being required by the public to properly inform themselves with a full knowledge of these important studies, are perhaps in some measure excused for their shortcomings. Instead of the inculcation of these useful and more vital lessons of life, they are required to fritter away time and health over a French grammar, or other equally foolish study, which cannot, in a vast majority of cases, be of the least service to them. They had much better be at home making mud-pies (which, by the way, are about the only ones that ever ought to be made), or learning to bake wholesome bread, or even chasing butterflies in summer through the green fields, or braving the cold of winter by joining in some of the healthful out-of-door sports. It would, perhaps, be proper enough for such as proposed to fit themselves for teachers, or who expected to spend their lives abroad, or who, from pure love of a scholastic life,—with the means to follow their inclinations, and necessary leisure at command,—thought to devote theirs to its fullest enjoyment and bent. These form the exceptions; but for all to essay the task, regardless of natural inclination and of the true relation which life bears to their individual cases, is simply absurd, and can only be accounted for in this wise, that fashion seems to demand it, as it does many other outrageous requirements, to some of which, as they concern health, we shall have occasion to refer as we proceed. Life is too short, at longest, and is filled with too practical requirements, for the most of mankind to try to master or even familiarize themselves with all the sciences of which the world has knowledge. Even the Humboldts of the race, favored with long life, good health, and devotedness, declare they have attained to but little more than the alphabet of knowledge, and they—few in number—have experienced few of those restrictions which hedge about the lives of most people. All cannot be great linguists any more than all can be great inventors, and it were just as valuable and reasonable an expenditure of time to teach a child to be one as the other. Of what benefit is a smattering of foreign language, except to make people ridiculous? and that class is already sufficiently large; far better that they learned to speak and spell their mother tongue with a commendable degree of accuracy, or that they learn to train future families in consonance with the laws of nature, and save to health the time spent in poorly-ventilated rooms, where, under the pressure of the modern school system, everything valuable and practical seems sacrificed to the ephemeral and non-essential. We do not underrate the good our schools accomplish, not at all; on the other hand, we feel a just pride in the liberality of the country, and realize that in them lies the only security for a Republican form of government, and, indeed, our opinions go further in this direction than that of most persons, for we would make it obligatory on the part of parents to school their children to a certain degree, and that no one should be eligible to vote who could not read and write in the common language of the country.

It is the administration of the school system which we deprecate. Hear what the famous Dr. Bowditch of Boston says upon this question, namely:—"* * * Not only does our school system, in its practical operation, entirely ignore the necessity for physical culture, but it at times goes farther, and actually, as we believe, becomes the slayer of our people. * * * We appeal to every physician of ten or twenty years' practice, and feel sure that in reviewing his cases of consumption he will find not a few of them in which he will trace to overwork in our schools the first springs of the malady.

"The result of all this school training is as certain as the day. Every child who goes through these modern processes must inevitably suffer, but not all alike. Some have one complaint, some another, and some, doubtless, finally escape unharmed. At times they only grow pale and thin under the process. But not a few go through to the exhibition, and, after working harder than ever for the two or three last weeks of the term, they gain the much-coveted prize only to break wholly down when it is taken. The stimulus of desire for success is gone. That has sustained them up to the last moment. Success having been accomplished, the victim finds, too late, that what he has been striving for is nothing, now that it is won, compared with the vitality lost and the seeds of disease sown."

It is true that there are a very few schools in the country where physical culture receives, in connection with other duties, its due share of attention. We know, personally, of but one—the Howland Ladies' Seminary, at Union Springs, New York, and we understand, on the authority quoted above, that the Latin and High Schools of Boston are of this class. Our colleges, however, as a rule, seem as bad as the schools. Half the students who complete their course come out broken in health, and those who do not are about the toughest "horned cattle," as Horace Greeley says, that can be found.

Another important item involving the economy of life is the

LOCATION OF OUR HOMES,

which has received little or no consideration, judging from what one may observe who chooses to look about them. Circumstances entirely beyond the control of most people conspire to locate for them their places of abode, and when originally selected no regard was paid to sanitary laws, and the result many times has been the forfeiture of precious lives as a penalty.

Not till a very recent period has the character of the soil figured to so great an extent as is now conceded. It has been proved by statistics, both in New England and the mother country, that a heavy, wet soil is prolific of colds and consumption; while, on a warm, dry soil the latter disease is little found. If we stop to consider what has been written in the previous chapters on climate, and that it was stated that a cold, humid atmosphere, from whatever cause, coupled with variable temperature, was the chief occasion of consumption, we can the more easily understand why a wet soil would tend to produce this disease. Whether the dampness arises from excessive shade, or is inherent in the soil, which may be so situated as to receive the drainage water of more elevated surfaces contiguous, is not material, so that it is the prevailing condition, thereby constantly exhaling cold vapors, which sow the seeds of death in many an unsuspecting household.

We cannot urge the importance of a right location better than to again quote from Dr. Bowditch what he once wrote with regard to the residence of two brothers whose healths were equally good, as was that of their wives, but one chose a home upon a dry, sandy soil, while the other settled upon a wet, cold plain—not remote from each other. "Large families were born under both roofs. Not one of the children born in the latter homestead escaped, whereas the other family remained healthy; and when, at the suggestion of a medical friend, who knew all the facts, * * * we visited the place for the purpose of thoroughly investigating them. * * * These two houses had nothing about them peculiarly noticeable by the passing stranger. They were situated in the same township, and within a very short distance one from the other, and yet scarcely any one in the village with whom we spoke on the subject agreed with us in our opinion that it was location alone, or chiefly that, which gave life or death to the inmates of the two homes."

We suppose thousands must continue to pay the penalty of the faulty locations of those who first built, since it is difficult to persuade many to sever the ties which bind them to their early homes, even though they are unhealthful, to say nothing of the expense to be incurred in making a change, yet those who have homesteads to establish encounter none of these drawbacks, and should exercise great care in making selection of a site for their dwellings.

A dry soil is indispensable to good health, and if it cannot be found as dry as wished for, it may be remedied by thorough underdraining. A sandy soil, the poorest or dryest on the farm or lot, is the best point to erect a healthful home.

The habit of embowering the house with a dense growth of shrubs and trees, even where the soil is naturally dry, defeats the desired end, and provokes disease. There are many places made so cosy and attractive with these aids that, with persons of culture and taste, the tendency is to run into extremes, and, while they render their homes beautiful to the eye, they are fatal to life. A few shade-trees and shrubs properly distributed about the ground can be indulged, and in numbers quite adequate to give an air of grace and beauty to the home, while not endangering its inmates. They should stand at proper distances from the sides and roof, or not to constantly shadow them through the whole summer, but allow, instead, the caressing sunshine to have full, free play over them. Again, we have often entered dwellings where it seemed to be the study of the good, ambitious housewife to shut out all the light, and shut in—of course, unconsciously—all the death which comes of dampness and dark, only so that her carpets are kept bright and shining for some—gossip's tongue.

Sunlight has come to be, of late years, one of the great remedies, and sun-baths are now duly administered in establishments erected for that purpose, and there can be no doubt of their efficacy in giving health and strength to all whose habits of life prevent their exercise in the open air.

Next to a proper location, by which health is to be promoted, is

VENTILATION,

and this covers a multitude of minor matters, but we have only room for considering the subject in its broader aspect.

In olden times ample ventilation was secured through the massive open chimneys, which, with their generous hearthstones, was such a distinguishing and healthful feature of the homes of our ancestors. They were, perhaps, "a blessing in disguise," but that they were a real blessing there is no doubt. Then, too, they were the grand altars of the family, around which the sweetest recollections of childhood and youth cluster, as does the ivy to the walls of old-time buildings, making them, though rude and rough, to memory most dear.

In place of these natural escapes for foul, and the admission of fresh air, we have absolutely nothing in the present day to take its place. On the contrary, air-tight stoves and air-tight furnaces have supplemented the cheerful blaze of the fireplace, and in lieu of fresh air, a great amount of poisonous gases are emitted, which stupefy and promote disease. Especially is this the case where the fuel used is any of the coals, instead of wood. The most deleterious of coals is the anthracite. Its heat is scorching and drying beyond any other, and the gases are more subtle and pernicious, excepting, possibly, charcoal, which, however, is not used as fuel to any extent.

These air-tight coal stoves, such as are in ordinary use, are the worst of all, since their name gives confidence to the public, who do not consider that, while they have the merit of "keeping the fire through the night," they do not keep the gases within. They are sure to creep through the apertures, or, if barred there, will escape through the iron itself, and it need not be very much in quantity to prove offensive to people with delicate lungs or in a debilitated state of the system. The strong and well will scout these opinions doubtless, and hold them of little value, and to them it is not of so much consequence whether they observe strictly the rules which govern health or no, their robust constitutions (thanks to their parents, who did observe these rules, either accidentally or purposely) will carry them along, doubtless, to a ripe old age; but their children are to be reared in health, and the fact of vigorous parentage may not, in their cases, where carelessness prevails, guarantee vigorous lives; and, while the fathers and mothers may escape from the ill effects of the vitiated atmosphere of their apartments by exercise in the open air, their children cannot. And it is well known that the children, in these cases, die one after another, the result of poor ventilation or unhealthful location, or both combined, while the parents wonder what the cause can be, ascribing it to all things but the right.

Everything about our homes should be subjective to the one central idea of health. Things of beauty or luxury, whether in or around the dwelling, should, if on close scrutiny they are found prejudicial, be at once removed.

The family sitting-room, if no other in the house, ought to be warmed by means of a wood fire if a stove is used, yet a grate is far better, and is the nearest approach to the old-fashioned fireplace attainable in these times. A flue cut in the chimney near the ceiling, with a register affixed, will, where stoves or furnaces are used, be of service, and are quite easily and inexpensively constructed. The windows of sleeping-rooms should be so made that the top sash can be as readily lowered as the bottom one raised, and at night the former should be left down sufficient for the free admission of fresh and the escape of foul air, but it ought not to draw across the sleeper. Night air is not as objectionable as the confined air of unventilated rooms. Invalids should, however, avoid exposure to it as much as possible, since when out in it, it envelops the whole person, and the chill and humidity may work serious injury.

The old saw, that "early to bed and early to rise, makes people healthy, wealthy, and wise," is deserving of more consideration than is accorded it. Take any city-bred girl, who has been accustomed to late hours and the excitement of entertainments and parties, and who, by these unhealthful and killing rounds of so-called pleasure, has become emaciated and prematurely old, and place her in a well-regulated home,—the country is by far the best, where early retirement is a rule, with a wholesome diet,—and she will in a few weeks show a marked improvement. Mrs. Stowe relates a very interesting story of a city-girl who had all to gratify her that fond parents could procure, and, though constitutionally strong, this hothouse, fashionable life had began to undermine her general health, and having exhausted the skill of the regular physician, her condition became so alarming that other counsel was sought; and this new disciple of Esculapius was a shrewd, honest man, and wont to get at the root of difficulties. He saw at a glance that the patient's disease was born wholly of fashion. He found her waist so tightly laced as to admit of little room for full and free respiration; this, with late hours and unwholesome food, was doing its work. Being asked to prescribe, he first cut loose the stays which bound her; then, ordering suitable shoes and apparel, gave directions for her immediate removal to the country, where she was to first rest and lounge in the sunshine, and as health returned, to romp and frolick in the open fields and join in the merry glees of country life. With feelings akin to those coming of great sacrifices, the commands were followed, and this frail, dying girl was, in one brief summer, so far restored as that the glow of her checks and the sparkle of her eyes rivalled those of the farmer's fair daughter whose companion she had been.

City life is exceedingly destructive to young people, even when considered aside from all undue excitements, indecorous habits, and improprieties. The custom of late hours, night air, and the vitiated air of apartments where companies assemble together, with the liability to contract colds by being detained in draughts, or from want of sufficient protection while returning from social assemblies; all these things destroy annually a great army of young people, who either do not think of consequences or else willfully neglect their lives to pay homage to fashion—the curse of the world.

We cannot think all parents wholly neglectful in teaching their children how to preserve health, and much of responsibility must rest with the young; yet by far the larger portion of parents are so flattered by alluring admirers, and led by the requirements and glamor of foolish fashion, that they seem, to the cool observer, to fairly dig and garland the premature graves of their loved ones.

How we wish we might impress one mother who worships at this abominable shrine, set up heretofore—but we now hope forever cast down to make room for an era of good sense and womanly delicacy—in Paris, by either a dissolute court, or, as we have often been informed, by the nymphs du pave, who seek to attract by tricks of style till they have come to rule the whole of their sex, or such portions as have not the moral courage to mark out an independent course. The violation of health, contortions of the body, and other absurdities, aside from the vast expense entailed upon the whole people, are perfectly astounding and outrageous beyond belief. Let us examine a moment and see if we are presuming. Granting that every lady in the land expends on an average of but ten dollars each year for the fashionable make-up of her wardrobe; that this mite goes for style, and necessary little etceteras growing out of it, and not in any way for the material itself, which is really the mountain of difficulty. Now, if there are twenty millions of women in our country, it would give the sum of two hundred millions of dollars annually expended for style. What a noble charity this would establish every recurring year. What a relief to pauperism it would form, and that too without the sacrifice of anything but "style." What a relief to struggling, disheartened men, whose lives are those of slaves, and families who pinch and starve themselves that they may possess the magical key to fashionable society! But what is fashionable society that it should have such charms for common and honest people? We give in answer what was given us by one who had had for many years access to it. He said, "Struggle to avoid it as the worst of calamities." It had swept him and his family from a position of comparative affluence to one of misfortune and distress. Fashion is the parent of both—"cussedness" and consumption.

We know some young ladies are personally disgusted with all this "fuss and feathers," who at the same time insist that, if they did not follow the lead of "society" they would be thrown in the background, as at most entertainments those who have carefully and elaborately arrayed themselves receive the lion's share of attention and compliment from the opposite sex, whose good opinion and company they wish to share. While there is more of truth in this response than most gentlemen are willing at first to admit, yet, observant people have ever noted the fact that, notwithstanding these fashionable and polite addresses at public assemblies between the beaux and butterflies, the end of the levee usually terminates the hobnobbing. The "gay ladie" has had, quite likely, her hour of triumph over her more modest, quiet, and unassuming rival, now in the background, but whom—when the young man is ready to proffer his hand and fortune—is most likely to be led to the front, blushing with her becoming and well-deserved honors, leaving the doting mothers, with their dear daughters, to reflect on the "strange ways of you men."

If the world sees, it does not fully believe what it sees, else a change would surely come. The fact is, while men, especially the young men, delight to do honor to these devotees of the milliner and mantua-maker, they cannot—those who have a fair share of good sense—afford to marry them. Their means, their prospects, and their happiness forbid it, and they are right in this conclusion. They prefer to unite their lives with some equally good, and usually more sensible and healthful girl, but of, perhaps, no special prospects or position in society. This decision is certainly founded in wisdom. They are forever relieved from that constant strain on their pride, and the consequent drain on their purse. Their style of living may, in this latter case, be squared, without jar or reproach, to their real revenues, and life be to them worth the living, while they gradually and lovingly lay aside, for any future exigency, something each year on which, in old age or disaster, they may confidently lean, and which, though it may not be great, yet shall, in a reasonable life, be sufficient to tide them to, and "over the river."

Everything, of course, has some exceptions; and where the fashionable lady can sustain the family pride and family coach both at one and the same time, why, then, our remarks and objections have little weight. Yet, in what we have written may be found the real cause of the increase of bachelors and old maids in society.

There are a few noble souls who rise above the bondage of their sex, and follow the dictates of their own consciences in dress as in other matters. This class embraces usually the very wealthy and the very learned people who compose the polite and refined circles, as distinguished from the flippant and fashionable ones. All honor to them. Their example is great, and furnishes the chief hope of any possible reform.

Some ask, what, indeed, shall we do if we discard all fashion? Our reply is, to do as the Quakers do. They certainly look quite as presentable and pretty in their "plain clothes" as do any other class of society. But I hear the answer: "Yes, and is not their style fashion?" We grant that it is, but at the same time insist that it is both a sensible, economical, and becoming one; and such a fashion—a fashion of common sense—is what we indorse, having not the least objection to that sort. Like, the old-time mode of cutting boys' hair by use of a bowl clapped over the head, it was a fashion, but a very simple, inexpensive, and proper one enough, considering the circumstances. Now they must have the assistance of a professional artist. Singular now one extreme follows another.

Not until quite a recent date were we inclined to advocate "women's rights," which is but another name—as modernly interpreted—for the ballot. Now we are persuaded that it would be wise for the States to concede this, and thereby open a new channel to them for thought, at once weakening their hold on fashion, and enlarging their views of life and its requirements. Good to the race, it would seem, must come of any change whereby the rising generation shall have less of fashion and its attendant evils, and more of health, with its accompanying blessings.

How few of perfectly healthy girls do we see among all those with whom we are each severally acquainted. Tight lacing, began in early childhood, is one of the chief of evils. You ask a girl of twelve years if she is not too tightly dressed, and the reply is "no;" and the mother is sure to argue that if the girl does not complain it is none of the father's business to meddle. The fact is, the child has been gradually brought to that state of unconsciousness of any discomfort by having been subjected to this abominable process from a very tender age, and being continued each year, the waist is scarce half the natural size it should have been at womanhood. Take a country girl who has grown up free from this practice, and has a well-developed frame, and put on her the harness of her fashionable sister, and draw it to the point the latter is accustomed to wear it, and you shall see whether there is any wincing or no. The argument of these unreasoning mothers is that of the Chinese, who dwarf their children's feet by beginning at an early period, and, doubtless, if these youths were similarly questioned, they, too, would complain of no inconvenience.

In the management and care of children, fond parents seem, in these later years, little else than a bundle of absurdities. For instance, take children of from three to ten years, and you shall see, in a majority of cases, when dressed for the street, their backs ladened with fold on fold of the warmest clothing, while their poor knees are both bare and blue.

Ah! we forget, perhaps, that the physician and undertaker must live; and then the army of nurses and others, too, are to be provided for, quite as the fashionable lady would make reply to any impertinence in matters of her dress, that it kept an army of sewing-girls employed who would otherwise be left to starve!

One of our most vigorous writers, treating this subject, says:—

"Showy wardrobe, excessive work with the needle, where it is done to gratify a taste for display, or morbid fancy for exquisite work, is a crime. Shoulders are bent, spines are curved, the blood, lacking its supplies of oxygen, loses vitality and creeps sluggishly through the veins, carrying no vivid color to the cheek and lips, giving no activity to the brain, no fire to the eye. Let women throw away their fancy work, dispense to a degree with ruffles and tucks, and, in a dress that will admit of a long breath, walk in the clear bracing air.

"Mothers should begin early to lay the foundations of health. Children should have plenty of vigorous, joyous exercise out of doors. They should have romping, rollicking fun every day, at the same time giving exercise to every part of the body, and a healthy tone to the spirits. The body and soul are so intimately blended that exercise for the one is of little value when the other is repressed. Thus the limbs will become well knit and beautifully rounded, the flesh will be firm and rosy, and the whole frame will be vigorous and elastic—vital to the finger tips. Better that our youth should have a healthy physique, even if they cannot read before they are ten years old, as in this case they would soon overtake and outstrip the pale, narrow-chested child who is the wonder of the nursery and the Sunday-school. Children are animals that are to be made the most of. Give them ample pasturage, and let them be as free as is consistent with the discipline they need; keep the girls out of corsets and tight shoes, give them plain food, fresh air, and plenty of sleep."

Nothing invites disease so much as the present style of living among the well-to-do people. Nearly everything tends among this class to deteriorate general health, and, since their numbers have within the last decade greatly increased, the influence on the country must be markedly detrimental, and, but for the steady flow of vitalizing blood from the Old World, the whole Yankee race would ere long, inevitably disappear.

We have dwelt in this chapter at considerable length on the importance of right training and education of the young, and especially of girls, though no more than the subject seems to demand. Boys are naturally more out of doors, since their love of out-of-door life is greater than that of girls, and their sports all lead them into the open air, and by this means they more easily correct the constitutional and natural tendencies to disease, if any there be. Then, too, the iron hand of fashion has not fastened itself so relentlessly upon them as to dwarf their bodies and warp their souls, as it has in some degree the gentler and better and more tender half of mankind, to whom the larger share of this chapter seems the more directly to apply.



CHAPTER IX.

HINTS TO INVALIDS AND OTHERS.

Indiscretions.—Care of themselves.—Singular effect of consumption on mind.—How to dress.—Absurdities of dress.—Diet.—Habits of people.—How English people eat.—What consumptives should eat.—Things to be remembered.—The vanity of the race.—Pork an objectionable article of diet.—Characteristics of the South.—Regularity in eating.—The use of ardent spirits by invalids.—The necessity of exercise.—The country the best place to train children.—Examples in high quarters.—Sleep the best physician.—Ventilation.—Damp rooms.—How to bathe.

It matters not what virtues climates may possess, if certain fundamental laws regulating health are to be disregarded by the invalid. The robust and strong may, perhaps, for a season violate these laws with impunity; but, even in their cases, every serious indiscretion, if not immediately felt, is as a draft on them, bearing some future date, sure of presentation, while the payment is absolute. It may be five, fifteen, or fifty years ere the boomerang of indiscretion returns, but come it will. Invalids will need to watch and guard against all pernicious habits, and to forego doing many things which they were accustomed to do while in health, but which under the altered circumstances are extremely injurious.

All pulmonic patients will, while taking counsel of some physician, do well to remember that their cases rest largely in their own hands; indeed, more depends on their own care of themselves than on the efficacy of any system of medicine. Lung disease is usually of a most flattering character, and its influence on the mind differs from that of any other, in that the patient is lulled into a serene and hopeful condition. This sense of security attends no other ill to the same extent. It is perhaps fortunate that such is the case, since, in many instances, there would be little vantage ground on which to rally. Still, while this peculiarity seems to be and is an advantage, there is another aspect of it which is quite as damaging, viz., the neglect and inattention, into which the patient is, too often, betrayed by this fancied security; frequently resulting in fatal consequences. It is, again, a most singular fact that, while the consumptives are thus blinded to their real danger, they become, quite as readily as other people, alarmed concerning friends who happen to be similarly afflicted; and this should serve as a caution against the companionship of invalids. Indeed, the influence of mind upon mind is so positive and subtle as to render it important that the invalid's surroundings be made as cheerful and bright as possible. The sunshine of good company rivals that of the day in restorative power.

Among the more essential matters in the way of hints to invalids, left for brief elaboration in this chapter, is that of

DRESS.

This should be easy-fitting and comfortable. Woollen under-clothing is required during nine months of the year in our climate; and, except it should disagree with the person, ought to be worn. It carries off the exhalations better, leaving the skin dryer and less liable to colds. The weight of the material can be varied to suit the changing seasons. For the summer months a mixed article, of wool and cotton, is desirable; but in no case should a change be made from all wool to all cotton. It is better to continue in the use of wool altogether than to commit this error. It is not a hardship to wear woollen through the hottest season of the year. Half of all our seamen do it, even while sailing in the tropics, and both their health and comfort is undoubtedly increased by it. It is, indeed, essential for many patients to wear it as a guard to some extent against summer complaints. If any inconvenience of heat is experienced at mid-day, it is better to change the outside clothing, adjusting that to the thermometer, rather than to disturb one's underwear. There are some sensitive-skinned people whom, we know, cannot endure the contact of flannel; such can, however, usually wear, without inconvenience, the mixed goods—especially if it be washed once or twice before it is used.

It is important that all the clothing worn through the day should at night be laid aside, and a nightdress substituted, which should be a flannel wrapper coming nearly or quite to the feet. Changes of underwear ought to be made once each week, and special care taken that it be well aired and dried.

Never go without a chest protector. Considerable relief is afforded by the use of this convenient and inexpensive article. Every old asthmatic appreciates their value, and we have known such people, years ago, who wore them. They warm the chest, and thereby loosen and soothe a cough. They may be of any woollen material almost, so that it is soft and warm. The best article is a piece of buckskin, lined upon one side with a single thickness of flannel made in the form and size of a dinner plate, with a piece clipped out to accommodate the throat; and to the corners of the clipping attach pieces of tape. This tied around the neck and over the under-clothing will prove not only a great relief, but will help the system to better resist a cold; and, for gentlemen, it ought to be in constant use, whether well or ill, as it serves to equalize the clothing over the chest, which is now partially exposed by the fashion of their vests. This invaluable little article can be obtained, when there are no loving fingers to make it, at almost any city drug-store. By wearing it in the manner indicated, it will not require to be washed at all.

The absurdities and crimes of fashion in dress we have discussed elsewhere, and only stop now to say that they should be laid aside by the invalid. Tight lacing, tight collars, knee bands and garters, and thin, tight shoes and boots, are not only foolish, but incompatible with high health. Great good sense has, however, characterized both men and women within the last few years in regard to the covering for the feet. Every person who has occasion (and all should have) to be out of doors in cold and even wet weather, ought to be provided with strong thick-soled boots or shoes, large enough to admit a patent insole, which will keep the feet dry, and at night this should be removed and dried. The security from colds is almost assured whenever this precaution is taken; at least they are a great preventive of colds, and they give, in addition, a sense of solid comfort beyond that which is derived from anything else, save, perhaps, a warm fire on a cold day, or a generous bank account.

They should be an easy fit, as well as thick-soled; and, without this virtue, the other is rendered null. Indeed, better have loose thin boots or shoes, with holes in them even, than tight thick ones. But they can and should possess both of the characteristics named. It is safe to say that any consumptive who has neither courage nor sense enough to adopt the kind recommended, might as well be given over at once, and without further ado.

Persons whose health is so perfect that they can for the time indulge and endure anything, and who cannot be said to have had any experimental knowledge of lame backs, sides, or weak stomachs, and who do not know practically whether they have any such members at all or not, will not be expected, at present, to pay any regard to what we have to offer under the head of

DIET.

The other, and, unfortunately, most numerous class, know how sadly they have fallen from their first estate. There was a time with them when they never dreamed that their stomachs were not as strong as a cider-mill, and could grind anything and everything which their greedy natures and careless habits desired. There is no other living animal, except it be the hog, that can eat and tolerate just the same variety of materials, cooked and raw, as man. Their tastes and habits are strikingly alike, it must be confessed, and their ends are not unlike; both die untimely deaths, with this difference, one is in due time killed, while the other, in equally due time, usually kills himself, the advantage being in favor of the porker, since his career, if brief, is, also, to the limit, blissful.

The habits of men are a curious mixture of sense and the want of it. Endowed with some of the highest attributes, and yet forgetting that they are anything beyond the veriest machines. They who leap from docks and bridges are not the only suicides. These shock the world, and are not uncommonly denied the last kindly offices of the church, while the slower suicides are borne triumphantly from the chancel within to that without—all turning on methods, and that is, indeed, important. Method in living should receive our earliest and best attention. All need to become good methodists, especially in some senses of that word.

The English men and women are the most systematic in their habits of living; and, as a natural result, they are remarkably robust. They take ample time in which to eat. An hour at dinner is as little time as they customarily allow, while those who can, often devote much more. They eat slowly, and talk a great deal, and laugh much, and by the time they have done they are fairly red in the face, and keep so pretty much all the time; and it is as healthy a sign as one can hang out. Good digestion waits on appetite with them, and they grow stout and formidable. They not only eat slow, but they know what to eat and what makes good blood. Suppose every Englishman could be sent into France and obliged to live on French cooking; does any one suppose they would remain the same people they now are? Not a bit of it. Take from John Bull his roast beef, and mode of eating it, and you change the character of the race inside of a century. They must have their favorite dish, and about as often as a friend of ours, Dr. M——, who, by the way, is a good type of an Englishman, and enjoys the things of this world much more than is common with Americans. On asking M—— how often he indulged in roast beef, he replied, that about three hundred and sixty-five times in the year was his rule! Invalids may be assured it was not a bad one. Of course, he took a great deal of active exercise, seldom using a horse while engaged in the practice of his profession.

Consumptives, and those who are generally debilitated and who need a fresh stock of good blood, cannot do better than confine themselves, so far as meats are concerned, to beef and mutton. The latter should be well cooked, while the former ought to be eaten rare done. If it is at first distasteful in this manner, proceed by degrees, and by-and-by it will grow in favor; but commence with it rare at the outset, when possible. Whether roasted or broiled, beef should not be cooked as to destroy all its natural color. Let the inside show some of the blood, the more the better, and the quicker it is assimilated to the needs of the system. General Rawlins, the late secretary of war, died of consumption, but his life was prolonged many months by the use of rare and even raw beef. He came to like it better raw than in any other way. Once a day is, perhaps, as often as may be required; much, however, depends on the amount of exercise taken. Wild game is likewise good, especially venison, and where that can be had, beef and mutton may be dispensed with. Fish and eggs furnish a variety to the invalid's diet, and such vegetables as are liked may be indulged, of course. Never eat but of one kind of meat at any one meal, and not over two kinds of vegetables, with wholesome, fresh bread (Graham preferred), and the coarser the better. Insist on having coarse bread; let it be made of unbolted meal. As for drinks, a single cup of very weak tea or coffee, diluted chiefly with milk, will not harm. A glass of milk is better in warm weather, if it agrees. Let water alone, except it is that which the system has become familiarized with; then, half a glass is preferable to a larger quantity at meals. Sousing the stomach at meal-time with a cold douche is only harmful. After the food has had time to digest and pass out of the stomach, then, if one is a great water-drinker, take a glass, or so much of a glass as you think is required, and it will be of benefit. Make the heartiest meal come at noon, and eat a light supper at night, using bread and butter for the most part.

Things to be remembered and observed in eating, are slowness and thorough mastication; never wash your food down with any drink. Talk and laugh, taking as much time to do this as you do to eat. A noted humorist says that "every time a man laughs he takes a kink out of the chain of life, and thus lengthens it." That is true philosophy, and it is little understood by our nervous, rushing people. We grin and snicker enough, at ourselves and others, but downright hearty laughter is a stranger to the most of us. It should be cultivated till, in an honest way, it supplants, at least, the universal snicker. There is both comfort and health in rousing peals of laughter.

Things to be avoided in eating, are hot, fresh baked breads of all kinds; also avoid all manner of pies as you would a pestilence, likewise cakes, of every description; they are the crowning curse. Women will make it and children will cry for it, probably, for all the generations to come, as they have in the past. But more truthful epitaphs should be inscribed over them than is now done. It is strange how fashion rules in diet as in dress. Why, the Koohinoor diamond of Victoria is not more valued than is a steady supply of poundcake by most of women and children. We know of a family who make it a boast that they, when young, had all they wanted; which either implies their mother to have been unwisely indulgent, or else the children to have been over-clamorous. It certainly does not imply wealth, and, least of all, culture, for the poorest families have usually the largest display of these things, while those with enlarged means and sense dispense with them out of good judgment.

Travelling on the cars, a short time since, we had for a companion a shrewd Yankee who had the honor to be postmaster of his city, and at the same time was engaged in the boot and shoe trade; one of those stirring men who, if he did not possess genius, had its nearest kin—activity, and illustrated the fact that a man might do two things well at one and the same time. He gave us samples of human nature which is quite apropos to the general subject. In discussing the eccentricities of merchandising, he said that usually wealthy customers entering his store would ask to see his cheaper class of boots, such as would do service, "honest material, but not the most expensive," and from that class would make their selections; but, whenever parties entered whose means were known to him to be limited, and yet whose "pride of family" and personal vanity were in increased ratio to their decreased capital, he never ventured even to suggest the class of goods taken by the wealthy, lest offense be given. His rule was to show to such his very best goods first. They wished to display "a notch above their betters." And so with the cake question. Some of even the poorest families of New Englanders doubtless eat more of this material than does the Royal family of England, if it could but be known.

There remains yet another article of food to be proscribed. We refer to the pork question. All ought to be good Jews on this subject. Their prohibition is, we believe, founded on the intrinsic unhealthfulness of the thing itself. Its use is universal in this country, and in the South it forms the chief meat diet. This latter fact comes of their mode of agriculture more than original preference. They devoted all labor to cotton growing, and had their meat and grain to buy. The question with the planter in laying in his supplies was what would go farthest, at a given price, as food for his slaves. Bacon and flour were always found to answer the economic query best. The West furnished bountiful supplies, and readily floated these products to a market, where competition was not only not thought of, but entirely out of the question. Cattle and sheep raising (outside of Texas) had no growth or encouragement among them. The planters soon fell into the habit of using bacon on their own tables, and the result is, it has continued to form the staple article for all classes there for several generations. The darkies have rather flourished upon it, while the whites have suffered greatly in consequence.

Its use undeniably produces scrofula, salt-rheum, tetter, ringworm, humors in the blood, rheumed eyes, enlarged glands, sore eyes, and lastly, cancer. Almost any community in the South will afford several examples of one or all of these diseases, and all directly traceable to the excessive use of salt pork. In a somewhat sparsely settled neighborhood near Central Georgia, known as Social Circle, a dozen cases of cancer alone can, in one form or another, be found, and that is one of the most salubrious sections in all the southern country.

They have become so enamored of "hog and hominy," that they are fairly superstitious or foolish regarding the use of some other kinds of meat. For instance, mutton, in any form, they are disgusted with as a rule. We tried to get at the reason while sojourning there, but never fairly succeeded, though the impression was, plainly, that they did not think it proper food for white people anyway, and then the "odor was so disgusting," and altogether it was only fit for "trash folks." We scarce hope to be believed when we state, that we have seen young ladies refuse to sit at the table where this dish was served, and served, too, out of compliment to their guests from the North.

This same feeling was largely shared by the colored people, and, while it was no infrequent thing for the "smoke-house"—where the bacon was kept—to be broken open in ante-war times, taking the risk of detection and dogs, it was almost an unheard-of occurrence that a sheep was stolen. They roamed, what few there were, at will and unharmed, except by dogs and wild beasts—the special benefit accruing to their owners being simply the wool. During and since the war, matters have been undergoing a change, and sheep raising is receiving more attention, and beginning to be valued as an article of food. Still, during weeks last winter, the Atlanta markets did not show a single carcass of mutton, notwithstanding the great extent of country tributary to it by means of her railways.

This change above referred to, while of slow growth, is, in part, owing to the example our troops set, the experience of their prisoners, their straitened circumstances, and lastly, to the infusion of Northern society among them.

While there are undoubtedly tenfold more of those diseases in the South consequent on the use of pork, than what there is at the North, yet its consumption is vastly in excess with us of what it should be. There is no doubt of this. Scrofula, salt-rheum, and ophthalmia, are among the chief developments at the North. At the North greater and better variety of food among all classes is in use, to say nothing of better cooking, which wards off some of the worst results.

The natural tendency is to greater use of pork in the more northern than in the Southern States, since the climate would seem to call for it; but we have shown its use at the South to be the result of circumstances more than of original preference and probable inclination, since all peoples of low latitudes, of a high standard of civilization, elect a lighter diet than those of cooler climates.

There are some who declaim against the use of any and all kinds of meat for food, and advocate a purely vegetable diet. There is much that can be said in its favor, and it ought, with fruits, to form at least two of the three daily meals. The system would be in better tone, and the mind as well. But there are extremes in all things, and these sometimes govern the conduct of men. A happy medium is usually the best, and for our climate, we believe the use of the right kinds of meat to be not only healthful but eminently proper. The natural law aids to this conclusion. We see the people of the tropics indulging largely in fruit, which an allwise Providence has placed there and adapted to their wants; again, at the poles the inhabitants live almost wholly on the fat of animals—a half-dozen tallow candles being eaten at a meal, when supplied by strangers. The intense cold requires this heavy fuel to supply the needed heat and comfort. What would an exclusive vegetable diet be worth to them, exposed as they are? With us, lying between the two extremes, with a climate and country abounding in both fruits and animals, with seasons of cold and heat in nearly equal extremes, it seems quite rational that a mixed diet, regulated by common-sense rules, is the best. Certainly the highest civilization to which man has yet attained is found in the temperate zones, where neither the one nor the other extreme in diet has obtained.

A manifest advantage and improvement in general health can, however, be effected by paying a more enlightened regard to those things whereof we dine. People with gluttonish inclinations can easily and do make themselves sick while subsisting on an entirely fruit diet; hence, if discretion is needed in the use of the simplest articles of food, of course it cannot be dispensed with while indulging in other sorts.

But, in a volume of this character, we cannot amplify the details of this very interesting and important topic to that extent we could wish. Suffice it to say, that so far as pork is concerned, we abjure all to leave it severely alone. There is a variety of other meats great enough, from which all may choose, and there are no good elements inherent in pork which cannot be supplied in other meats, or by the free use of good fresh butter, which is at all times a much better fuel for the system than pork.

Regularity in eating is highly essential, and too much stress cannot be placed upon this injunction to the sick. It is quite as important to those in health who would remain so; but then, few in health believe that, or if they do, their habits do not conform to their belief. The duties of life should conform to the laws of health, and where there is any conflict, shove duties overboard always.

Indigestion is the result of irregular, hasty, or unwholesome meals, and likewise meals in quantity beyond that required by genuine hunger and health. It is the mother of many evils, some one of which will be sure to visit, in time, all who violate themselves as above indicated.

Many there are who, troubled with a cough, sore throat, and general debility, think they have the consumption, whereas it is, at the outset, nothing but indigestion. They will go on eating heartily, and continue their pie and cake, these being so pleasant to the palate; they say, "one piece will not do harm," "one swallow never made a summer," and thus they continue till complete prostration takes possession of them.

The use of stimulants at or after a meal may be done with advantage in some cases, but it should only be taken when the physician so advises. We have heard of consumption being cured by the free use of whisky; but should the habit of using it become an uncontrolled one, we question whether the life of the individual is worth the saving at this cost to community and friends. Some of the most eminent among the faculty recommend it, while others do not. When cod-liver oil is freely used, a spoonful of whisky ought, perhaps, to accompany it. If cream, butter, or the fat of mutton or beef be freely eaten at the noon or morning meal, and they are about as useful as the oil itself, stimulants are not so much needed, except that of

EXERCISE,

which is really one of the medicines most needed by consumptives, dyspeptics, and hosts of others who are complaining. A daily dose of the saw-horse or wash-tub isn't bad for weak lungs and bodies, or for strong ones who wish to continue thus. Take a thoroughly well person, accustomed to an active, out-of-door life, shut them up and confine them to a bed, and a tolerable invalid will soon be the result. The converse of this holds good, namely, take an invalid who is able to walk about the house, but feeble in spirit and body, if exercised daily out of doors, a gradual return to health is apt to follow. The strong, to continue the growth of their powers, must give themselves constant practice. The story of the man who commenced to lift the calf, and continued the task daily till after it had grown to be an ox, illustrates this. Moderate and constant labor is the law of both life and health.

There are two classes who need counselling—those who overwork either mind or body or both, and there are many such, especially among those who conduct the multitude of our public journals. No profession is so exacting or exhausting as is theirs, or so generally thankless, and none so greatly influential for good or evil. These classes are, however, small compared with those who die for the want of a proper amount of physical exercise.

The weak-lunged portion of the world must have physical exercise out of doors, or they must die. There is hope for them if they will but consent to labor in the open air. Those who cannot hold a plow and hoe corn, should jolt themselves on the back of a horse at a good round trot. If that is too much, in their debilitated condition, canter the animal; but if only a walking gait can be endured, why, hitch the horse in the stall and go on foot. Go briskly—get some errands to do which require to be done daily; take a contract to drive the mail out into the country, or, if no business can be had, ride on horseback to the mountains, spending the whole season in the going and returning. Do no studying or letter-writing by the way, and especially none to lady-loves. It will do little good to send the body off on a health trip, and have, meanwhile, the mental arm around your sweetheart. And it works against your recovery even worse when you are situated so as to substitute these mental for real flirtations. This does not so much apply to married men. They who have wives or husbands would be the better of their company and care.

Invalids who cannot travel, either at home or elsewhere, in consequence of weakness, should sit in the open air in some sheltered corner of the verandah, or of their room, and bathe in the light and sunshine, being careful to avoid all draughts.

A young man was just starting out in business. He was to leave his home in New England to engage in active life in one of the large cities situate on Lake Erie. He had bidden his childhood's home his first adieu, and meeting with a friend, sought some counsel; this friend, at the close of a somewhat lengthy interview, and as the sum of all he had uttered, said: that he should remember to practice three things, if he would have his efforts crowned with success, namely, the first was Perseverance,—the second was Perseverance, and the third was Perseverance. So it is with pulmonic patients: if they would recover, aside from the aids of diet, dress, and all the other etceteras, they must first and all the time continue to Exercise—EXERCISE—EXERCISE the body in the open air.

The distinguished Dr. Willard Parker once said to us that he put a consumptive on the back of a horse at his office-door in New York, and told him to ride for his life. He did ride for his life, and, after a six months' journey of about two thousand miles, having traversed the Central States, he returned with the assurance of his physician that he had overcome his disease.

There is often criminal fault in parents about the matter of exercise. They who are in affluent circumstances, and others who would be thought affluent; and again, that class (and, we are sorry to say, it is a large one) who are so very tender of their children, and whose mothers do all their own household labor, only so that their daughters may be the admiration of a ball-room, or else through fear they will "get sick" if they put their hands to anything which has kept their mothers so strong and well.

If parents did their whole duty, they would place the boys upon the farm, where they might grow strong and lay well the foundations of life, while the girls should bear a hand at making as well as eating bread. The art of cooking is a science, by the way, very little understood, and there is scope and verge enough for any ordinary genius, and as noble a service to mankind may be accomplished by its mastery as any that comes within the pale of human life.

Health seems almost ignored in these later days by parents, so far as the training of their children is concerned. Their overweening pride and love blinds them to what is their true duty. They feel it would be so trying for their "dear boy" to do any kind of manual labor, and it is so bad that his delicate hands should be soiled and hardened by any toil, that they would deny themselves of even the necessaries of life in order their fair-haired boy may be thought such a "nice young man," and so "genteel." Their judgment, however, is never in error with regard to some of the neighborhood "rapscallions." Their heads are perfectly level on the question of "those rowdy boys." Their advice is as sound as it is free. They can predict with greater accuracy than can any of the second-sightseers as to the ultimate end of these embryo ladies' men, good-for-nothings, sharpers, spendthrifts, and paupers. They know the process full well whereby these boys can be transformed into strong, honest, enterprising, and useful citizens. They do not forget, either, though many would but for an occasional gibe from some envious Mrs. Grundy, that both they and their husbands were the children of obscurity and poverty; which, rather than being any dishonor, as it is often thought, particularly by the vainer sex, is a badge of genuine honor and royal patent of the man's energy and industry.

Witness the noble example set Republicans by the head of the most illustrious empire in the world, and consider how wise a Queen and mother may be, while her love for her family is not excelled by that of any other true and devoted mother. She realizes the necessity and value of sound health, if long and useful lives are to be attained. We see her sons doing duty for years in the ranks of the common sailor and soldier, enduring the privations and hardships incident to such service, and they thus secure not only health, but an insight into human life and thought and nature more valuable than any of the lessons learned from books.

All excesses in labor are to be reprehended, and not uncommon is it that we hear of health ruined and even life jeopardized by some foolish or thoughtless effort. Young men ought to guard against strife in labor, which usually accompanies an ambition to excel. We know of an instance where a company of boys, by lifting against each other, one was ruptured. And again, an "itinerant" came along with a machine known as a lung-tester; one fair-haired, slender youth, having fears he would fall below the average, made so great an effort as seriously to impair his health for the time. Another case of a boy, who was frequently into some daring scheme of house-climbing or leaping, sought the crest of a cliff, some thirty feet, and, to astonish his companions, essayed the feat of flying; and, though he flew well enough, the lighting proved too much, since, as he struck the ground, both his legs were broken short off. We cite these various instances, coming within the range of boys' sports, for the purpose of warning others from attempting excesses. Leaping, running, climbing, are well enough in their way, and may be practiced in perfect safety, as millions of boys have practiced them with no detriment, but absolute advantage. Care should be exercised, and counsel given, to beware of the danger of going to extremes. The race over the meadows for the cows; hoeing in the garden or field; sawing or cutting wood for the fire; riding the horse to mill; a walk to the village post-office; holding plow; raking hay; the most of which are charming things to do, and just what boys should do to become strong and capable men.