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large general hospitals of the Metropolis., city and art. Only 65 of the thousand seDr. Williams himself concurs in his son's | lected cases prove to be unavailable for the inference that consumption is not conta- objects of this classification. gious like scarlatina, small-pox, or typhus; but he adds, "both reason and experience indicate that a noxious influence may pass from a patient in advanced consumption to a healthy person in close communication, and may produce the same disease, just as foul matter or putrid flesh will produce tubercles in an innoculated animal; and I therefore always reccommend that all such patients should sleep alone," and that special care should be taken to effect perfect ventilation. The non-contagiousness of consumption is, of course, the result which would be anticipated from the inert, dry, hardened character of the degraded texture. It is the soft, active, restless forms of bioplastic degeneration, and not the hard, indolent, and already half-dead conditions present in tubercle, that do the work of infectious dissemination.

The reason for the auspicious change in the duration of the disease, Dr. Williams remarks, is unquestionably the better understanding of the cause of the disorder, and the consequent improvement of its treatment by the physician. His testimony upon this point is very interesting and clear. He says that during the first ten years of his experience the beneficial results of treatment were small, and limited to the influence upon incipient cases of a sea-voyage and residence in mild climates. In the next ten years of his experience a marked advance was obvious, and attributable to the employment of a more liberal diet and the use of the iodide of potassium and of vegetable tonics as medicines. But in the last ten years the improvement was very considerable and marked, and in the main due to the general use of cod-liver oil in consumptive cases. His own words in regard to this royal medicine for consumption are:-"I have no hesitation in stating my conviction that cod-liver oil has done more for the consumptive than all other means put together." The curative influence of the remedy he believes to be chiefly due to its power of dissolving and removing the depraved deposit; but he is convinced that it also acts as an eminently nutritious principle, increasing the amount of healthy plasma and diminishing the fibrinous constituents in the blood. He says of it:

The deductions which Dr. Williams has been led to give expression to in this volume are the results of a very large experience. He states in his preface that he has notes of more than 25,000 cases of the disorder, which have been under his observation and treatment in a course of something more than thirty years, and that he has selected from these cases one thousand, which are representative and typical, for more refined and careful examination and discussion. Much of the valuable remarks that he has drawn from this discussion, and printed in the pages of his book, are of too technical a character to be noticed in an article addressed to a circle of general readers. But there are some of his deductions that are of the widest ap-teals, in which it contributes to form a rich plication and interest.

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"It is an oily matter well borne by the stomach; easily diffused by emulsion through the alimentary mass; readily absorbed by the lac

molecular base in the chyle; apt to saponify When Dr. Williams commenced his in- with the basic salts of the blood; and, when vestigations in this particular field of re- diffused with this fluid through the capillaries search, and when Laennec and Louis were of the body, capable of penetrating to all the still the great authorities on the subject, textures and of exercising its solvent and softthe duration of consumptive disease was ening action on the solid fats of old deposits, held to be, on the average, two years. whilst it affords a rich pabulum for the sarcoFrom Dr. Williams' selected cases it phytes (colourless blood-corpuscles) and biopears that the duration of the disease is plasm of the blood, tissue-cell, and lymphatics." now eight years. Of the one thousand The chief necessity, in regard to the recases selected for discussion 198 have end-medial employment of cod-liver oil, seems ed fatally, while 802 relate to the history to be that it shall be taken perseveringly of persons still alive. Of the 802 living and steadily for long periods of time, and cases 34, or 4-5 per cent., have been apparently cured; 280 cases, or 38 per cent., have been benefited by medical and regiminal treatment; 102 cases, or 13.39 per cent., have remained for some time stationary; and 321 cases, or 43-53 per cent., are on the downward road, despite all that can be done for them by the physician's saga1248

LIVING AGE.

VOL. XXVI.

that it shall be used immediately after a meal, so that it may mingle itself at once with the digesting food and take part in its sustaining offices. Dr. Williams states that, in a practice of twenty-five years, he has had occasion to prescribe cod-liver oil for between twenty and thirty thousand patients, and that of these 95 per cent.

have been able to continue its use for the requisite time without material difficulty, and 90 per cent. have more or less benefited from its employment.

Dr. Williams speaks very graphically of the lymphatic system as the "seed-bed of the flesh-germs-the lymph-corpuscles and "blood-corpuscles," and regards the scrofulous taint, the particular blood-state which leads to consumptive deposit and disorganization, as a degradation of bloodplasm originating in that lymphatic system seed-bed. All measures of treatment and management, for those who are threatened with the consumptive taint in any form, resolve themselves: First, into the maintainance of the blood-plasm and fleshplasm in their most vigorous and healthy condition; and secondly, into the careful avoidance or immediate arrest of inflammatory attacks on the respiratory organs, which are more prone to become the seat of the phthinoplastic deposit. The book treats very fully and clearly of the various expedients by which both ends may be most efficiently secured; and it does that in so simple and untechnical a way that its pages may be advantageously consulted by everyone who has a personal ground for interest in the information there conveyed. The more technical parts of the book, which deal with the various pathological details of the subject, and with the illustrations that have been found in special cases, are also of the highest value, as the gleanings of close and philosophic observation in a field of large experience; but they are addressed to a different circle of read

ers.

The main value of such monographs as those which it is the object of this article to.bring into notice is the unconscious influence they exert in the creation of an.intelligent public opinion upon a subject that is of great practical moment. No intellectual reform is more needed, and more ardently to be desired, than that every responsible head of a family in the social community should have clear views upon such matters as have here been dealt with. The problem of sanitary regulation by the State, which is already beginning to assert itself in somewhat loud tones, must grow into ever-increasing importance and urgency where a still multiplying population, already numbering thirty millions of souls is contained within the unelastic bounds of one hundred and twenty thousand square miles of sea-girt territory. It has been the reproach of civilized communities that the centres of aggregation are the haunts and strong

holds of evil influences which leave the wild places of Nature more desirable homes for man than cities and towns. But it is the privilege of civilized communities that their great centres of aggregation may, by the application of knowledge and cultured intelligence, be made in every sense better homes for man, and more advantageous fields both for the exercise of the human faculties and the enjoyment of human existence, than the unimproved face of the wilderness. There will no longer be hesitation as to the means by which this desirable object may be most surely advanced in a land which aspires to be in the van of civilized progress, when the leaders of its intellectual life and thought have as clear an apprehension and as keen a perception for the teachings of physiological and physical science as they have for political and social relations and question 3. The ultimate solution of the great public health problem rests with the enlightenment of the public mind regarding the broad issues upon which hang health and disease, and life and death.

From Saint Pauls.

OFF THE SKELLIGS.

BY JEAN INGELOW.

AFTER this I had Valentine and his Greek to myself all the rest of the morning, and, after luncheon, April having treated us to one of her ever-fresh varieties, and given us a warm, still, and very sunny day, we sallied forth in a body to a certain fir copse, where we meant to sit for awhile, Aunt Christie bringing some books with her, and Tom also. We reached a screen of larches, and came through it to a place where the underwood had been cut away, and the large trees left. A good many felled trunks lay on the ground, with clumps of primroses about them, and on the slope of a ridge grew whole nations of anemones and wild hyacinths.

We sat down on the ridge, just in front of the screen of firs. The long, deep dell was all bare to the light, for the chestnuts and poplar-trees had not yet unfolded their crumpled leaves, and the sun was pouring down his rays on the heads of the flowers. I do not know that a partly felled wood is a particularly lovely place in general, but that unsullied sky was delightful, so was the sudden warmth and the thick shelter behind us, and I liked to see the shy English birds flitting about and piping, and then peeping round corners at us.

Aunt Christie was with us, but not Mrs. | Giles was never known in all his days to Henfrey, she almost always remained be attentive and polite. It's my belief he where Mr. Mortimer chose to be. Valen- can't bear girls; and because I try to suptine presently came up, with a large untidy ply his deficiencies, he calls my dog a cur.' bunch of flowers in each hand, and his lit- "Oh, pray defend your dog," I said; tle dog followed with some twigs of flow-" 'you seem to feel the remarks on him far ering larch in his mouth. more than those on yourself."

Aunt Christie began to caress him. It appeared that he was Emily's dog, and had been left in special charge of Valentine.

"Bonny Emily!" said Aunt Christie, "I miss her. It's not much of a man she's got; but, I'll answer for it, she rules him well."

"She does," said Mr. Brandon. "Not that that is anything uncommon; this is a woman-ridden age. Yet, it is but fair to confess that all the former ones were manridden ages. What we want is a happy

proportion."

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Emily was always sure such wonderful things were coming," remarked Lou. "Wasn't she, St. George?

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"Yes," he answered, "Emily always wanted all-wanted the sea at her doorsteps, to come singing up the street, between her and the opposite neighbours. Have we no boats? How easy to step on board; and then we should be out on the road that leads everywhere."

Valentine, who had flung himself full length on the slope, and tied his flowers together, taking the twigs from his dog to add to them, now reared himself on one elbow, and graciously saying, "There, I knew you wanted some of these," dropped the ponderous lump of flowers on my lap. My dear boy!" said Mr. Brandon, "I really think I must take you in hand; is that the sort of nosegay to give a lady bigger than her head, and tied up with an old hat-band, torn off for the occasion?

"So I do; he smells no worse than other fellows' dogs, when they have been rathunting; and, as to carrying things for me, that's his nature he's only acting according to his lights." Then, observing that we were laughing at him for taking the thing so seriously, he suddenly came out of his sulky fit, and exclaimed, "If I could see your nosegays, Giles, no doubt I should have a fine example to copy; but it's my belief they are not yet gathered." "Nor likely to be," said Lou. "Fancy Giles presenting a nosegay!" exclaimed Liz.

"On one knee, with the words, ' Accept this wreath, O loveliest of thy sex!"" said Mr. Brandon; "that is my favourite style."

Presently after this Tom was desired by the old aunt to read, and he took up a volume of Carlyle that he had with him, and some of us listened, and the others took an interest in the bringing down of a ragged last year's nest, which hung in a young tree, close in front of us.

Valentine first flung his own bandless hat at it; but, instead of coming down with the nest, it stuck up there, in the fork itself. Many fir-cones lay strewed about; these he collected into a heap, and the two brothers, as they sat, pelted the hat with great skill and interest, till Liz, suddenly observing that Valentine had nothing on his head, leaned forward, and, whispering for a moment to Mr. Brandon, lifted off his hat and quietly put it on Valentine. Neither of the two took any particular notice; and there was something so easy and familiar in the little action, that I wondered afresh whether it was all my own fault that "Worse and worse! you shouldn't have my brother held me, as it seemed, so far mentioned that little fact at all. Now, off. when I give a nosegay to a lady—” "Ah! but you never do." "How do you know that?" "Ay," said the old aunt, "how does he know that?" It was an ay at least two syllables long.

"Well," answered Valentine, sulkily, "I had nothing else to tie it up with; and as for bigness, I got one twice as big, last week, for Jane Wilson."

Mr. Brandon made some reply, in which he was especially severe on the dripping cur, out of whose mouth some of the stuff had been taken, and who, he said, had been pushing his nose into every rat-hole within reach; and Valentine, taking the matter quite in earnest, exclaimed, "Now, Liz! now, Aunt Christie ! isn't this a shame?

But the fir-cones being now exhausted with no effect, St. George took up the big bunch of flowers, which lay beside me, and flung it up with such force into the tree, that it brought the hat crashing down at last, and the nest and a dead bough with it. On hearing the noise and seeing this pother, Tom naturally looked up, and paused, whereupon Miss Christie, no doubt thinking it would not be courteous to let him suppose we took no interest in his reading, proceeded to make some observations on it, and Tom, shutting the book, said, "Carlyle is a rare old boy; he digs

up a thought, now and then, which is like | resemblance between Tennyson and Mena nugget of pure gold." delssohn," said Aunt Christie.

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Ah, but we should value it more if he sometimes left it uncoined," observed Mr. Brandon; "he always stamps it with his own image and superscription."

"Now, what do you mean by that, for goodness' sake?" said Aunt Christie, a little tartly.

"That it is egotistical to write in such a style that nobody can mistake a sentence for any other man's concoctions."

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Ah, well, Giles, we all know that the poor old man is no favourite of yours; but," she added, as if conscious that she had only said this because she was secretly vexed at any sort of disparagement of any old person whatever, "but I think this old woman is and always has been." "Poor old man," repeated Tom, very much amused at such an expression applied to Carlyle; Now, suppose we try a change."

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Yes, but not Tennyson delssohn of poets," exclaimed don, as if in great alarm.

"Why not?" replied Tom.

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"There is a kind of subtle beauty in their harmonies. Something dreamy, and a general pensiveness of effect which comes partly from high finish. They are both tender and not passionate, and they both appeal strongly to the feminine side of a man's nature. Handel, on the contrary, is almost exclusively masculine, just as Milton is."

"Handel is a very jolly fellow," said Tom.

"He is a glorious fellow; I like him better than Milton, and Tennyson better than Mendelssohn. Handel's humanity is grave and deep; his pathos manly, his reverence sublime. When I hear his music I feel the more a man for it. He makes one brave. His sweetness does not subdue, but comfort and elevate; his passion keeps clear of all puling. I go and hear him whenever I can."

not the Men- "Giles is like a jockey," observed ValBran-entine, "he goes into training to make himself strong."

Mr.

"Because I'm so choked up with sentiment already to-day, that I hardly know what to do with myself, and I know he'll make me worse.'

"I like sentiment," said Lou, idly; "it's so soothing."

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Because you are so vehement," said Tom. 66 Now, when I read this sort of thing, I feel like a cat sitting still to be stroked by its master's hand. I like it, and purr accordingly."

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And he's as full of sentiment as he can hold," said the old aunt, nodding at him. "I always used to be afraid he would turn out a poet himself. Why didn't ye, Giles?"

"It was entirely on account of the rhymes," he answered, bantering her. There are so many bad rhymes in the English language, and they would come to me.'

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"And that's a pity," she answered with gravity; "a bad rhyme, like a bad egg, is aye conspeecuous. You may beat up a dozen eggs in the cake, but if only one of them's bad it spoils all. Now what are you two girls laughing at?"

"Perhaps at your notion about Giles turning out a poet," said Valentine.

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And Miss Graham, too," she continued. "Well, child, ye might know better, for "When my masters lay their hands up-ye've seen the world; but, as I remember, on me, I never feel that I am being stroked; ye found some of the strangest parts of it I feel the thrill of their touch vibrating very uninteresting." among the strings of my heart, and playing wild music on that strange instrument, to a tune that I never intended, making it tremble and shake to its inmost core, in their unsparing race over the chords."

"Yes," said Giles, "I was surprised when you said that, Miss Graham. I should have thought you would find plenty there to gratify the widest and most wholesome curiosity."

"Ay, and intelligence, too," proceeded Aunt Christie. "And I am glad, to he

"Do you mean to say that any living poet has such an effect on you now?" "No; but a man who once had real pow-sure, she has some of that; for, my dears, er, must retain a portion of it thus, that the old strain recalls the time when it was felt to be so suitable and so telling; and nothing is more affecting than to be thrown back into one's former self unawares."

"I'm sure it's past my power to see any

all of ye may have remarked that one must have a certain amount both of intelligence and knowledge to be amazed even at the most extraordinary things."

We admitted the truth of this, and she went on. "I remember when I was a

mere wean I had a nurse-girl that thought to make me respect and fear her by telling me that her grandmother was a very powerful witch; and, indeed, if she p eased to mutter her spells she could make the moon come down into our back yard; but I was not at all impressed, for I argued with myself that the moon, as I had seen, came down somewhere every night, with no spells at all. At one time I had seen it go down into the trees behind the manse, at another it would dip the other side that hill where Johnnie MacQueen had his potatoe garden. So I just answered, ' When your granny brings her down so near as that, ye won't forget to wake me, for I would dearly like to have a look at her.'" This story was mainly directed at me, and was supposed to illustrate my want of intelligence; but there was more goodnature than malice in it, and Aunt Christie evidently felt that now she had the laugh on her side.

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And all this time," she continued, "we're keeping the lieftenant from his books."

“Because Brandon's so afraid of Tennyson," said Tom. And I broke in, "I should be very sorry to do without him.”

"Ten years ago I embued myself with him thoroughly," observed Mr. Brandon. "Like a cow that has fed on madder I was dyed in his colour to the very bones; that was when I was young and careless, as you all are now, including Aunt Christie; Lou!"

Yes, dear," answered Lou.

"I hear the sound of wheels - the wheels as of a very exceeding old and rickety yellow chariot. It will be our painful duty to go in."

"Who sits in the yellow chariot?" asked Tom.

"A fine woman. Unless her soul is twice the customary size, it can be no match for its tabernacle."

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I'll go in and pay my respects to the fine woman."

"Sister knows where we are," observed Liz; "if she wants us, she can send for

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I replied that I should like it exceedingly, and they went away, Mr. Brandon saying that he would come when the Wilson's were gone and fetch me in.

When they were gone I leaned my chin upon my hand, had a long and delightful dream all to myself, and sat so still that the birds and squirrels grew bold, and the butterflies, taking me perhaps for a mere erection made of drapery, settled nearer, and then the robins began to sing with shriller notes and hop about with a perter air.

In what seemed a very little while, I heard the tread of a man's foot on the dead twigs, and Mr. Brandon approached, and strange to say he had some wild flowers in his hand- -a nosegay fresh and perfect, made of the most delicate flowers and the youngest leaves and newly-opened violets. He looked very grave, as he generally did when not talking. "I hope you have not found the time long," he said; "we have been away three-quarters of an hour." Then he sat down a little below me on the slope, took out a manuscript, and tearing off its last leaf, on which nothing was written, folded it round his nosegay, and said gravely, "I robbed you of your flowers, may these take their place?" How little sisters know their brothers! was the thought that darted into my mind, but I tried to be as grave as he was while I held out my hand for them, and said, "Is that MS. the lecture? If so, I did not hear

the end of it."

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Nor any one else as here written," he replied. "I only write my lectures down, because, being a coward by nature, I seldom like to stand up without something to fall back upon in case I should lose my self-possession."

"What would be likely to take it away?" I inquired.

He looked surprised at my question, and no wonder, for it asked him to unfold a little point in his character, which at first I thought he meant to keep to himself, but he did not. He replied, "If I were to look up suddenly and see some one whose presence I had been unaware of, and whom I very much wished to please, I might lose it; and yet if I had known beforehand of that very person's intended presence, and been ready for it, I should find it a great stimulus; and I think most people would give the same account of themselves."

"I suppose," he presently added, “you know who it was that saved my lecture last night? You recognized the voice that made game of my assailants?"

No indeed."

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