It is a daily occurrence for physicians to see patients who are dying by inches from the above cause; nor are they the low foreigners alone, but, like my stoical one hundred and eighty pounder, of American birth, and without excuse for their ignorance.
Do not sleep or live in apartments unventilated, or where the life-giving sunshine does not penetrate during some portion of the day. It is living a lingering death. If the patient is scrofulous, let him or her employ such remedies as are known to remove the predisposition, or seek aid from some physician who has cured scrofula. The regular practitioner seldom desires such cases. One who has devoted much time to scrofula and chronic diseases should be preferred. I think chronic practice should become a separate branch in medicine as much as surgery is fast becoming. Take the disease in season. Do not neglect colds, coughs, and catarrh.
Persons of a low state of blood, who are weak and debilitated, should wear flannels the year round—thinner in summer than in winter; keep the feet dry—avoid “wafer soles,”—and the body clean, but beware of what Artemus Ward termed “too much baths.” Employ soap and a small quantity of water, with a plenty of dry rubbing, till you get a healthy circulation to the surface.
Mothers, see to the solitary and other habits of your daughters. Fathers, instruct your sons in the laws of nature, and of their bodies. Do you understand?
See our youth swept off by the thousands annually, for want of proper care and instruction!...
A jolly fat Grandmother.
“Wasp Waists.”—This is what I heard a fine-looking though tobacco-sucking gentleman utter, as with his companion he passed two young and fashionably dressed ladies on the street recently.
HOW WASP WAISTS ARE MADE.
So I fell into a reverie, in which I called up the image of a fat, jolly old lady whom I knew as my “grandmarm.” She had a waist half as large around as a flour barrel.