Year: 1873

The successful cultivation of ague is
possible in the healthiest of neighbor.
hoods, and thousands are nightly en-.
gagged in that improbable occupation
without knowing it. Take stroll any
where in our city suburbs any evening
of sultry day. The sun has gone
down in splendor. A light breeze be-
gins to stir the air into life, and every
body is out to enjoy it. Children run
up and down the garden-walks and at
every door is a group of children, larger
grown, arrayed in cool linen and gbostly
muslins, mingling the fragrance of Ha-
vanas with the odor of roses, laughing,
chatting, flirting, needless of falling
due and more rapidly falling thermom-
eter.


All day the ladies have been painting
in the inner rooms, praying for breath
of fresh air, and signing for thought of
their husbands, brothers and lovers,
sweltering in the sun-scorched city.
These, as the day declined, have per-
spiringly rushed from their shops and
Offices to catch the evening train or
steamer, and are now slowly recovering
from the fatigue and debility due to
hard work, dead air and pitiless sun.


The evening is delightful. The dewy
grass and flowers give off faint per-
fume like that of Paradise, in compari-
son with city stenches. The fre-fies
dance over the dark meadow across the
way, and the beetle drones among the
leaves overhead. Evening fades into
night, while the unheeded thermometer
against the door post records steadily
decreasing temperature, which chills as
it refreshes.


At last some one less vigorous of
habit or more airily clad than the rest
rises, with a shiver, and exclaims, "Why
how chilly it grows ~ The shiver goes
round like yawn, the family group
breaks up, and each member goes to
bed feeling little stiff in the knees,
the result apparently of long sitting.


Multiply this scene by the number of
suburban residences. and you have q
rough estimate of the amount of ague-
culture that goes on around us every
warm summer evening. That the crop
does not always come to maturity is
purely accidental.


Whether malaria is chill, and chill
only, as DIR. Oldham argues with such
cOgent array of fact and observation
or whether miasmatic emanations really
do arise from stagnant water, newly
disturbed illuvium, and so on, it does
not matter; repeated exposure to chilly
night air-especially with those of deli
cate habit, or those whose system is
debilitated by deozonized air, profuse
perspiration, and other conditions at
tendant on summer heat in city streets
and offices--is almost sure to result in
intermittent fever, or some other of the
so-called miasmatic diseases. To similar
alterations of temperature DR.. Oldham
for many years superintendent of one
of the largest sanitariums of the British
army in India-attributes very much of
the prevalence of choleric diseases in
hot seasons and hot climates.


Persons who spend the heat of day in
the city and the coolor nights in the
suburbs have double need to be careful.
The contrasts of temperature are inten-
sified in their case, and they are noto-
riously more subject to malarial affec-
tions than those who live constantly in
the country.


The proverbial ounce of prevention is
worth a pound of cure. In this case an
ounce of flannel may be worth many
doses OF quinine. Avoid chill and you
will not be troubled with chills. This
is DR.. Oldham's theory, and to prove
his faith in it he slept without harm in
the open air and close to the ground
every night for three months, in the
midst of one of the most malarious
swamps in India. His only precaution
was an abundant supply of blankets.


To seekers of suburban comfort the
moral is-don't sit out of doors at night
in the garb of MONDAY. At least put
on a thicker coat, or throw a shawl
around your shoulders, when the color
begins to fade in the western sky how.
ever grateful the increasing GOODNESS
may seem.-Frdnk Leslie.