Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-02-12
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES Il. TRACEWELL.

Sweet are the uses of adversely,
Which like the toad, ugly and venom
Gus,
Wears yet precious jewel in his
head;
And this our life, exempt from public
haunt.
Finds tongues in trees, books in the
cunning brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every
thing" .,
As You Like IT.
Illness. too. unless it be too Ill. has
it's place.
II If were not for those PERIODS oi
enforced idleness. when one is Ill aped
most OF ,,H would become intolefaplv
conceited. Il takes lying fiat on one
back to give a proper perspective
out in the a,nlight of good health.
when the blood is flowing Freely, the
MUSCLES working smoothly and disas-
fer of any kind seems Impossible, one
is likely to have something amounting
almost to contempt for illness.
Indeed. this feeling of intolerance
bred by health. has Jed some TO enun'
ciate the doctrine. TO De SICK IL
crime" OF course, one may agree
with tnat, III llS Sl'e1hhi oS'~' '' -
a general proposition, no.
To he hi is a natural processes.
in fact. a healing process of Nature
Sickness il crime against health,
moi y crime of the individual. even
II that individual has brought 1t on
himself" by the violation or sunur!
"health laws" These self same laws
are so i'm dispute that even the doctors
cannot agree on many of them Ana
where doctors disagree how can lay
men he expected to comply:
And. even if all the laws were as
pain as the nose on your face. q man
life is his own life. even i'll TINS M
dustrialized age. and If he gets himself
i'll. now and then. that Is ms own
business.
He is the worst sufferer.
This is point too little remenl-
berpd. The sick man, after all. is the
one to be pitied. We speak. of course,
of real illness. not of the sort in winch
YOUR friends find you out when they
call with condolences.
A real illness is one in which your
ewes and nose run, and your pack
aches, and you cough. and that makes
your stomach sore. and your throat
gets sore, too. and your head aches.
and your left arm, for no apparent
reason. feels az If it were going to
drop off.
When even the medicine the doctor
gives you won't stay down-thats be
ing i'll. my lad.
the contemplative soul i'll Illness
will not spend all his time complain,
ing but will try to make sort OF
game out of what is going on inside
him. Mostly it seems inside organs he
previously took only on faith begin to
manifest their presence in most de-
cided fashion.
If his symptoms are as those given,
which. any reader will recognize as
those of influenza. he will discover
that he has. indeed, as the physiologies
say. 491a miles of sweat ducts. or
however many miles they form II
placed end on end. which is exactly
the one way in which they will never,
by any chance. be placed.
All the poor patient has TO do is
to sit up and the perspiration starts
pouring down in a bedside imi-
tation of Niagara Falls without the
Niagara.
And what strange didoes the
epiglottis can kick up. The epiglottis
is a neat little contraption In ones
throat, a marvellous trapdoor that
kicks open at the touch of food or
drink, allowing it to go into the
stomach instead of the lungs. 1t
belongs to the list of automatic body
machines in which the heart Is the
greatest. 1t is, unless our physiology
is terribly at sea. what one swallows
with.
How curious that little bird and
motion of the throat should have
the same name. swallow! '-t
When one has the influenza or grippe
mo. not a coda cold" is easy in
comparison) Friend E,piglottis never
seems to be able to get enough liquid
flowed over him.
Each swallow then fulfi1ls Wilde s
description OF a cigarette as a type
of the perfect pleasure. 1T is delight.
full and it leaves one unsatisfied.
What more do you WANT"
They used to treat fevers by with.
holding water from the sufferer. but
today one Is encouraged to drink.
This is where the epiglottis shines.
Every time the little trapdoor does