These are very vicious companions, and cause a deal of mischief. The scientists have much to say of the prevalence, and of the deleterious effects of sewer gas, from faulty plumbing, etc.; but they do not insist upon, scarcely indeed mention, the plain fact, that if this insidious destroyer can, as is now known, get into a dwelling through a foot of stone or brick wall, it can and will get out through an open window; and that, in any event, if there be abundant ventilation there will be such dilution of these gases as to render them comparatively innoxious. It is not so much the letting in of bad air, but rather the confining of it—the breathing of it, “pure and unadulterated”—that causes disease. There is more malaria in a close bedroom in the most favored mountain-region, and in the alimentary canal of a constipated or drug-swallowing dyspeptic, than about the swamps and bayous of Louisiana or the dreaded Roman Campagna, where wrapped in a single blanket, the author has slept night after night—to prove his faith in the theory, as well the theory itself. The “Roman fever,” so alarming to visitors of the holy city, is the joint product of stuffy hotel bedrooms and a diet better suited to the climate of Iceland than Italy.

“I have lately spent a summer in a country place whose delicious air is a just source of pride to its inhabitants,” says an observing writer, in Our Continent. “They told me how doctors sent their patients there from a distance, and how even consumptives had had their fell disease arrested by the tonic effects of the pure air and invigorating breezes, and then I found the very people who thus glorified in them shutting out every breath of air and every ray of sunshine from their houses because of flies! In returning the calls of neighbors, I was struck the moment I entered their houses with that close, unwholesome, ‘stuffy’ smell which we generally associate with the homes of the ignorant and unneat classes alone, but which is often to be noticed in those of a class far above them. As I looked at the outside of the different houses in the place, it was difficult to realize that they were really inhabited. Every blind was carefully closed, and not one sign of life visible; and yet, unfortunately, life was going on behind those closed windows—life which needed every advantage to make it healthy and enjoyable. Does it never occur to you, you housekeepers whose minds recoil from soiled house-linen, fly-specks on paint, and every species of uncleanliness—does it never occur to you, you so-called neat women, that there is one thing absolutely dirty in your cleanly-swept and carefully-dusted houses, and that is their very air? You who would blush with shame at the idea of anything unclean worn on your person, or taken into your mouth, do you not know you are taking in uncleanliness with every breath you draw; and that unclean air is making your blood, and through its means, your entire bodies impure?... Many a woman is regretting this summer that she is unable to have a change of air for herself and children by going to the seaside, the country, or the mountains. Why not try the effect of change of air at home? If air makes such a difference to your health as you admit, why not let it do its best for you wherever you are?”

It would be hard to find, in any community, a person so ignorant as not to know that the lungs require good air. “Oh, yes, of course, I know we must have pure air.” Yes, indeed. Nevertheless, ninety-five families in every hundred, in city and country, though always ready to say this, suffer every day of their lives for want of it. This arises from a lack of definite knowledge (1) as to the true office of air—of the fact that it supplies the major portion of the body’s nourishment, since an ordinary person could live six weeks or more without eating, and as many days without liquids of any sort; while as many minutes without oxygen is certain death; and (2) as to what constitutes “pure air in the home.” Says Prof. Huxley: “But the deprivation of oxygen, and the accumulation of carbonic acid, cause injury long before the asphyxiating point is reached. Uneasiness and headache arise when less than one per cent. of the oxygen of the air is replaced by other matters; while the persistent breathing of such air tends to lower all kinds of vital energy, and predisposes to disease. Hence the necessity of sufficient air, and of ventilation for every human being. To be supplied with respiratory air in a fair state of purity, every man ought to have at least eight hundred cubic feet of space to himself, and that space ought to be freely accessible, by direct or indirect channels, to the atmosphere.”

A room ten feet square, and eight feet high, if “freely accessible” to the outer air during the entire 24 hours, will, according to the high authority quoted, supply the necessary respiratory rations, so to say, for one adult person. In so far, then, as this space per capita is diminished, its accessibility to the outer air must be increased; that is, the ventilation (which should in all cases be constant) must be freer, in proportion as the size of the room is diminished or the number of its occupants increased. No room built with hands will ever be large enough to supply the “breath of life,” in default of free communication with the outer air.

WINTER VENTILATION.

The true theory of ventilation is to obtain a perpetual and sufficient change of air without sensible draught. The following simple plan, as I have proved by years of experience, perfectly fulfills these requirements, and leaves nothing to be desired. The Scientific American endorses the plan, and places it above many, in fact most of the elaborate and expensive devices. The eminent Dr. B. W. Richardson, of London, also, is on record in favor of the plan, and it is already in use in thousands of homes in this country. A three-inch strip placed beneath the lower sash of each window has the effect to “mismatch” the sashes, causing them to overlap each other in the middle. The stream of air thus admitted is thrown directly upward, and slowly mixes with the heated air in the upper part of the room. As several windows in each room are thus provided, the vitiated air is constantly passing out at one or another of the ventilators. The strip being perfectly fitted or listed, no air can enter at the sill, and all can be so nicely finished as in no manner to mar the appearance of the most elegant drawing-room. A dwelling thus ventilated will never smell “close” to the most sensitive nose upon re-entering, even after a prolonged stay in the open air—a test that would condemn, as unfit for occupancy, ninety in the hundred sitting and sleeping rooms, as well as churches, halls, etc., the world over. The purity of the air is by no means measured by the temperature. Cold air is often very impure by reason of stagnation (as stagnant water), or the exhalations from the lungs, etc., while, on the other hand, the temperature may be maintained at 70° F., or upwards, without fatally lowering its quality, if a sufficient and perpetual change is going on between the outdoor and indoor air.

Whether in Maine or California, Florida or Kansas; whether in a “malarial district” or in a region celebrated for its salubrity,—whatever the locality,—the only standard, the purest air attainable for the inhabitants of any town or hamlet, is the outdoor air. Apropos of this I make a brief extract from the letter of a patient, a delicate lady, under treatment for chronic dyspepsia, and other troubles, who, under date of September 5th, says: “I have tried to follow your directions, and the result is very satisfactory. I live out of doors as much as possible through the day, and for weeks have even slept out on the porch at night. I have enjoyed this very much,—never slept so soundly nor felt so fresh on waking. Of course my friends predicted malaria from sleeping out of doors so near the fogs from the river, but I haven’t had even a sniffle! I exercise a great deal and have grown very much stronger. It seemed pretty hard at first to live on one meal a day and exercise too, but I persevered and feel better for it. Every one here is astonished at my progress and increase of strength. At first I think they rather resented my not coming to the table, and they openly declared the foolishness of living without meat; but they have ‘sick spells’ which now I never do, and they can not endure heat or cold as I can. I think I can dimly see your position, and begin to realize the simplicity of certain problems generally regarded so complicated.”—(Mrs. S., Washington, D. C., writing from Wadley’s Falls, N. H.)

I feel that my readers will absolve me from the charge of egotism in thus introducing the testimony of this poor lady, the victim of malpractice in the first instance, who, after passing through course after course of drug medication at the hands of eminent, and so-called skillful physicians, at last begins, not dimly, as she herself says, but clearly, as I believe, to see the simplicity of the health question; and especially ought I to be pardoned when I here distinctly remark that I claim to be only the contemporary of thousands upon thousands, physicians and laymen, who have become converts to Hygienic Medicine; being convinced that the proposition is as true as it is simple, that, in general, substances which are injurious for healthy persons to swallow, are even more deleterious to the sick.