perate effort is being made to deal with these, or some of these, grievances, then, but not until then, they will rally to that party or that statesman who may first show the way; but it is contrary to the teaching of history, it demands too much from human nature, that the stolid Saxon should follow with Celtic ardour the green flag of Home Rule, even although its bearer be the most illustrious statesman of the age.

L. A. ATHERLEY-JONES.

ON CHANGE OF AIR.

There was an atmosphere in itself a spell, and which, after all, has more to do with human happiness than all the accidents of fortune, and all the arts of government.-Lord Beaconsfield.

Of all the general conditions which influence the well-being of man, there is none which is so important as the condition of the atmospherewhich surrounds him; by no other channel is he so open to attack, to no other attack is he so incapable of adequate defence.

Our worst aërial enemies are silent, unseen, inexorable. I had almost said they are no respecters of persons, but if I were to say so I should be in danger of conveying a false impression; for it is indeed most remarkable how insensible some persons are to these subtle influences. And it is greatly owing to this fact that mankind remained so long in ignorance of the nature of these atmospheric dangers. Men were mystified by what they saw, and it seemed to them as though a mysterious intelligent agency, a malign spirit, hovered over them, unseen, but active, touching, with baneful finger, certain predestined victims.

But in the production of many vital phenomena the contributing causes are multiple and complex, and the absence of one of these may render the others inoperative.

In order that seed may germinate, an appropriate soil and other conditions are needed. It is to the presence, or absence, of these contributing causes, in varying degrees in different persons, that we justly refer the extraordinary sensitiveness, or the equally extraordinary want of sensitiveness, of various persons to the influence of morbid atmospheric agencies.

But if the atmosphere surrounding us is occasionally fraught with dangers and laden with mischief, does it not also often bring with it a beneficent, health-giving influence? For its evil effects are we not often ourselves responsible? By our ignorance, or by our indifference and carelessness, do we not often corrupt the 'pure air of heaven,' and make it a danger when it should be a delight?

Apart, however, from actual contamination with the germs of disease or terrestrial impurities, the atmosphere at different times and in different places presents varying physical states which exercise

a considerable influence over the well-being of humanity, and especially over its weaker or more sensitive members. Hence it is that ́change of air' has come to be recognised as a most important salutary and curative agency.

There are few persons who are not sensible of the tonic influence of ‘change of air,' and few whose period of active life might not be prolonged by a suitable recognition of the value of its restorative power.

It is not my intention, nor would it be possible in these few pages, to attempt to discuss all the questions which arise in connection with the subject of change of climate, more especially as I have had occasion to examine the most important of these fully elsewhere;1 but I shall content myself with calling attention to a few considerations bearing on this subject which may appropriately occupy our minds at this moment.

And first of all I propose to call attention to the advantage of 'change of air' from town to country.

I was reminded a short time ago by a colleague that a well-known physician of this city was accustomed to say that he knew no place so good as London to live in for ten months in the year, and no better place for the other two'!

Certainly I should be little disposed to write in dispraise of London, for there are few great cities that possess such remarkable advantages. Our extensive parks have been compared to 'prairies,' and they penetrate to the very heart of London.

A wide river, a great open air as well as water way, with a magnificent embankment along a great part of its course, flows through its midst—a wholesome and purifying agency; and now that Constitution Hill is to be devoted to public use, it will be possible to drive from Ludgate Hill in the City to the Great Western Terminus at Paddington, through what may be called open pleasure-grounds nearly the whole of the way, viz. from Blackfriars to Westminster Bridge, along the Embankment, through Birdcage Walk to Buckingham Palace and Constitution Hill, and from Constitution Hill through Hyde Park to Paddington.

I suppose there is not a capital in Europe that can boast a similar privilege.

If it were not for the too frequent presence of fog, the atmosphere of London—of a great part of London-would no doubt be, for a great city, exceptionally pure. And it may be as well to point out that what it is customary to call 'London fog' is not quite correctly named or properly understood. London, while it undoubtedly gives some special properties to its fog, has but little to do with originating it. The real and essential basis of a London fog is a sea or river mist, blown by the direction of the wind on to this city. London lies but

1 Vide the author's work on Climate and Health Resorts, new edit.

a short distance from both our east and south coasts. On the east there is nothing but low-lying country between it and the mouth of the Thames, nothing to prevent this sea fog being driven by the prevailing wind over the metropolis. When it reaches the city the cloak of watery vapour prevents the regular diffusion and dissipation of the smoke of the city into the surrounding atmosphere, and for a time the sea mist, mixed with London smoke, hangs over us and gives us what we call a London fog-the essential basis of which is water, not smoke.

The same thing can be observed to proceed from a southwesterly direction. I have followed a sea fog, which made it difficult to cross from Ryde to Portsmouth, the whole way to London, where, in the south-western districts and suburbs it became a 'London fog,' while the atmosphere of the eastern part of the metropolis, the most densely crowded and the most smoky, remained clear. I have approached London from the east coast and found the same conditions reversed, the eastern districts enveloped in fog, the western districts free from fog. I have left London perfectly clear, and entered a dense fog at Epsom. I have seen a fog so dense and thick at Leatherhead that it was most difficult to find one's way to the railway station, while from Wimbledon on to London it was and had been perfectly clear.

It is quite certain that little can ever be done, while London remains where it is, to make any serious impression on its fogs. If its production of smoke were diminished by one quarter-a wholly impossible problem-it is doubtful if any sensible difference would be made on these fogs as to their unpleasantness, certainly none in their frequency.

But although London, apart from its fogs, enjoys for so large and populous a city an exceptionally pure atmosphere, especially in the best quarters of the town, yet in all large cities the amount of organic impurities in the air is far greater than in that of country districts. It has been calculated by Dr. Angus Smith that in Manchester the air that a man breathes in ten hours contains 37,000,000 spores! The presence of these organic as well as other oxidisable impurities in the air of towns, even if they are not of a nature to be directly harmful to their human inhabitants, yet indirectly deteriorates the quality of the atmosphere by combining with and taking from it a portion of its active oxygen; hence when one who dwells in a large town suffers from any of the numerous morbid states associated with imperfect oxygenation of the blood, a transference to the country, a 'change of air,' is an obvious remedy.

The air of the open country has the great advantage of affording the languid and feeble, or jaded and overworked organism, that allimportant element of life and restorer of vigour, oxygen, in an active and energetic form. What is called ozone is, as is now very generally known, a condensed and more energetic form of oxygen.

Its presence in the air is a test of its salubrity. It is found to be absent in the air of certain places; in sick rooms, in the neighbourhood of substances undergoing decomposition; it is less abundantly present in the interior of large towns than in the open country, it is found in greater amount over green fields and woods than over barren plains or dusty roads, on the seashore than inland, on the tops of mountains than in valleys or level tracts. It possesses remarkable powers of oxidation and disinfection, and its presence in the atmosphere in relatively large proportions indicates a freedom from substances prone to decomposition.

The healthy activity of all the functions of the body is promoted by breathing an atmosphere rich in active oxygen; and when any of these functions are languishing or embarrassed, how important a condition must this be to their recovery.

But the atmosphere of towns gets often positively and grossly dirty. The dust that is raised by a strong wind and blown into our air-passages, as well as into our eyes and ears, is in a large town composed, in part, of most offensive ingredients, often capable, there can be little doubt, of exciting disease in delicate sensitive persons. I have long been convinced that a considerable portion of the illnesses caused by a prevalence of cold and strong east winds may be traceable to the effect of the pernicious, infectious qualities of the dust that is blown into our air-passages at the time. Imagine for a moment what the dust of a large city must be composed of, mixed up by the eddying wind and carried backwards and forwards from place to place! And yet we marvel how infective diseases are spread abroad!

The air of the open country has then the enormous merit of being relatively clean; and the advantage of living in the clean, pure, tonic air of the country, when it is practicable, must be obvious to all. Those who dwell in London are particularly fortunate in living within very easy access of a number of country resorts charmingly picturesque and eminently salubrious. In Kent, Surrey, Middlesex, Hertfordshire, and in parts of Essex, within twenty-five miles of London, every kind of rural scenery and attractions can be found. Suitable hotel accommodation at a moderate cost is, however, not easily procurable. Indeed, in some of the most attractive localities within forty miles of London there is a remarkable absence of any comfortable hostelry. Convalescent homes for the poor exist in many of these attractive spots, as at Wimbledon, Walton, and Berkhampstead, and the wealthy classes can always obtain what they require, but the middle classthe poorer middle class-are very badly off in this respect.

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Another common form in which change of air' is sought is by removal to the sea-coast; and in an island like our own, with so many attractive resorts on our coast to choose from, this is, perhaps, the most popular of all changes.

There is nothing that is new to be said of the tonic and restora