As we are speaking of “scratching” we will mention the itch mite, which we propose to give particular—sulphur—in this chapter.
THE ITCH MITE.
The animal which makes one love to scratch is from one sixteenth to one seventeenth of an inch in length, and may be seen with the naked eye if the eye is sharp enough to “see it.”
The luxury of scratching is said to greatly compensate for the filthy disease known as the “itch.”
Dr. Ellitson says “a Scotch king—viz., James I.—is alleged to have said that no subject deserved to have the itch—none but Royalty—on account of the great pleasure derived from scratching.” The king was said to have spoken from experience.
In these days of filthy horse-cars (we are speaking of New York), this fact may be interesting to passengers.
A HORSE-CAR RIDE.
Never full; pack ’em in;
Move up, fat men, squeeze in, thin;
Trunks, valises, boxes, bundles,
Fill up gaps as on she tumbles.
Market baskets without number;
Owners easy nod in slumber;
Thirty seated, forty standing,
A dozen more on either landing.
Old man lifts his signal finger,
Car slacks up, but not a linger;
He’s jerked aboard by sleeve or shoulder,
Shoved inside to sweat and moulder.
Toes are trod on, hats are smashed,
Dresses soiled, hoop skirts crashed,
Thieves are busy, bent on plunder;
Still we rattle on like thunder.
Packed together, unwashed bodies
Bathed in fumes of whiskey toddies;
Tobacco, garlic, cheese, and lager beer
Perfume the heated atmosphere;
Old boots, pipes, leather, and tan,
And, if in luck, a “soap-fat man;”
Ar’n’t we jolly? What a blessing!
A horse-car hash, with such a dressing!
How to keep Cool.
1. Don’t fan yourself. Those persons who are continually using a fan are ever telling you “how awful hot it is.” Look at their faces! Red hot! Human nature is a contrary jade. The more you blow with a fan that warm air on your face, the more blood it calls to that part, and the more blood the more heat. So don’t fan.