find that the more they use it, the more they will have, and they can help others who have less, and restore them to healthy, active life, when all other remedies fail.

Suggestion is another aid to health. Use it wrongfully, as most people do, and it is a slow death, simply because they are saying all the time, "I am growing worse, I am so sick." They always look on the dark side. If some one tells you a better way, say you are a mind healer, or some other kind of a person whom it is dangerous to follow.

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Go on thinking all the miserable, unhealthy, unhappy thoughts you can. Be just as sick as you wish to be. Make every one around you dread the sight of you. Some day you will die and the world will say, "poor thing, she was no hope she is at rest, poor, unhappy morcomfort to any one while she lived, we tal!" God grant that this is not the sad epitaph on my grave!

If I cannot help some one to better ideas or thoughts, then I prefer to keep still.

A

GOOD illustration of the healthfulness of fresh air and the bad results of impure and overheated air came under my observation this winter.

In a large modern office building is a suite of rooms occupied by a force of workers-four men and five girls at the time of which I write. These rooms, which gave ample space for this number of workers, were steam heated and the temperature kept always at 70 degrees or above. The halls in the building were also kept at the same temperature, and, as they had no outside opening, the air was never changed, the halls never ventilated.

But in the rooms ventilation was possible and could easily have been arranged for, if the occupants of the office had realized the necessity of fresh air. But, like so many others, they gave it no thought, or if some one got too hot and opened a window the next one was sure to squirm and talk about a draft. At night when they left the office the windows remained closed, and in the morning when they came back to the office the windows were still closed. So all day long these men and women sat at their desks breathing over and over the same poison-ladened air, week in and week.

out.

The result was headaches, colds, sore throat and grip. Not one of the occu

pants but what were complaining, and to my personal knowledge three of the men and four of the girls had grip, some of them missing several days from the office and others being kept in bed a week or ten days. The other girl narrowly escaped tonsilitis, and it is safe to say that all of them were at the office many days when, from their own complaints, it was evident they felt more like staying home in bed.

Only a short distance from this office building was another one in process of construction. construction. The building had been commenced in the early fall, but there had been various delays until cold weather found only two stories of the building erected, and just a mere shell of a building, for there was only the outside brick wall on three sides, while the other side was rough boards with large cracks which were partially covered on the outside with tar paper. Temporary windows, with large cracks all around, loose board flooring and more cracks, in fact, there seemed to be more cracks than anything else. And this was the condition of the new building when the office force of about fifty persons moved from their old quarters. into this new and unfinished building. In addition to the many cracks to let in the cold, the heating apparatus was only put in temporarily and did very indifferent work in the way of heating this

But they were a jolly, good-natured, cheerful set of workers and made the best of the situation. The men sat with their overcoats on and the girls wore their wraps. It was uncomfortable and not easy to work under the circumstances, but no one quit; they all stuck to their tasks, they joked about it and kept up their courage.

The girl at the first office who escaped the grip, but had sore throat, had been there only temporarily, and when she left there she went into the employ of this other firm who had just moved into this unfinished building. And, as she tells it herself, when she saw the conditions under which she would have to work, sitting in that cold room, she felt that she could just see tonsilitis and grip stalking right at her. But to her utter surprise she didn't even have a sore throat. The other employes in this goodnatured talk would say that they shivered because the microbes of grip and pneumonia were after them. The cartoonist of the office delighted himself in drawing pictures of the office force in exaggerated costumes and situations, trying to keep warm, and what he called his masterpiece was a dummy of a magazine with a front page cartoon representing the editorial force dressed as Esquimaux, writing with icicles, and the leading editorial starting off with one long sneeze.

And yet, it may seem strange to say it, but while in that new building, under these unfavorable circumstances, not one of that office force had to lay off for sickness. No one had the grip, no one had tonsilitis, no one had pneumonia. Of course some of them had colds now and then, and maybe a girl would have headache, but these, it is very probable, were from other causes, as they were of short duration. And the girl, who in the overheated office barely escaped tonsilitis, in this other building with cold outside air pouring in through a hundred cracks and crevices, had not even the suspicion of a sore throat.

The above is a splendid illustration of the bad effects of impure air and the healthfulness of fresh air. It is in just such overheated, stale, impure air, as the first office furnished, that microbes and germs lurk and nest and breed, bringing forth a whole brood of ills under the various names of headache, catarrh, colds, grip, pneumonia, etc.

To have pure air, however, it is not necessary to live in unfinished buildings or to be uncomfortably cold, as the people in the new building were. One can be warm and at the same time have pure air. The first mentioned office could have been made an ideal living and working place by having it properly ventilated. The workers could have been warm and comfortable and at the same time have had a good supply of fresh outside air, and have escaped the ills that befell them, while their mental faculties would have been stronger and more alert and their work of a better quality than could possibly be accomplished with sick bodies. and minds, every day becoming more sick and befogged by breathing poisoned, germ-filled air.

Open the windows and let us have pure, fresh air.

I

Why not be Friends?

By JENNIE CARR SARVER, Columbus, Ohio.

WAS walking along the street the other day. It was about four o'clock and children flocked past me from school.

An unusually loud whoop called my attention to one boy in particular who, evidently to give me an athletic treat, threw a brick toward a smaller boy with an arm swing that would have aroused the enthusiasm of a baseball “fan.”

The smaller boy grinned, backed off, and looked up at me as I was passing. I grinned. We both knew the big boy was "showing off." It amused us both. Our plane of comradeship was immediately established. Without the slightest embarrassment the little boy caught step with me, and off we walked together.

We began talking immediately, he answering my questions as promptly and seriously as if he had seen nineteen years

instead of nine and vouchsafing quite personal information as freely as if we had known each other always. I left him with an invitation to call and see me, he with a frank "You come over-I've got a fine dog." Then with a friendly "Good-bye," we parted.

Very nice little story? Very sweet of me to unselfishly entertain a little boy when they are so troubles me and hard to interest? Nonsense! It was merely the recognition of a kindred spirit and a sincere expression of comradeship.

For years I have been commiserated and sympathized with because I displayed the Christian long-suffering to persist in teaching a Sunday School class of boys ranging from eight to fifteen years, when often they gave me more real practical information than I gave them. And they never failed to furnish me real entertainment.

But what if my "little boy" had been There twenty-nine instead of nine? are many little boys of twenty-nine, you know. What then? Would it have been "sweet" of me if I saw friendly interest in his face to have grinned back and walked and talked with him? Why, how stupid of course not! That would show a most shocking lack of even the most ordinary propriety. I would be nothing but a common "flirt!"

It is hard for me to "scringe" down to the narrow gauge of such sentiments, but I can see them by mentally looking through the wrong end of my operaglasses. Bu they are not my sentiments. Far from it. They make me tired enough. to yawn, even in public.

I wonder, seriously now, can any cleanminded person believe there would be any real impropriety in talking with a young man as freely as I did with this child? Has the eternal question of sex to be guarded by iron bars of conventionality that cage in our real selves, and must we be content to merely peep through and occasionally reach timidly out instead of accepting our freedom and taking it as a matter of course?

How many real friends are lost when "Mother Grundy" demands a cold stare instead of a glance of quick understand

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ing! How many sordid falsehoods have been uttered to aliens who happen to be in "our set!" How many hopeless interviews are struggled through with an absolutely incompatible personality, the parting farcical remark being, "I am so pleased to have met you!" How many times it is necessary to "freeze up" at the too interested glance of some one you know you could thoroughly like, but whom you have "never met!"

All right. If that attitude gives any one the best things of life-keep it by all means, but not I. I may be "without ordinary propriety," "liable to be misunderstood" (is a real lady ever misunderstood)? but I "have met". any one who would like to know me. The "mutual friends" that introduce people to me are Kindly Fate and Auspicious Circumstance. There is no stiffly spoken, platitudinous prelude to our conversations. We would not be wasting our time in idle talk if we were not "pleased to meet" each other. We say something right away. And I will continue to go on my "misguided" way, unobtrusively, I hope, but with a "grin" ready for any man, woman, child, or dog, that says in a manner unmistakable, "I like you-let's be friends."

Practical Hints.

By MRS. M. E. MOWER, Lakewood, N. Y.

I

WANT to tell you how I have escaped the general complaint and colds this winter. My chief preventive is deep breathing, which I practice in early morning with open windows (my windows are open all night regardless of cold). I practice awhile and then rest; this is before rising. I take time, so that I get the invigorating influence of the air through my whole system, which is impossible in hurried exercises.

When walking I take time to breathe leisurely with the intention of filling the lungs as completely as possible, with ease; never straining or exhausting

them.

I do not allow sitting rooms or living rooms kept so warm that going from them into the open air brings a chill.

After full or partial bath I find that cold water applied is an excellent tonic.

I am proud of my own progress toward a rational diet. Being convinced that the quantity of food and manner of eating are to be reckoned in all conditions of health, I have practiced eating less than I craved. That is, I stop while I yet have a good relish for more, and I feel stronger and enjoy three meals a day, which are light food consisting of milk and cereals with apples. So by keeping on the good side of the air and my appetite I do not have colds.

A small piece of spinach or a sweet onion eaten just before, or with breakfast, is in some cases an excellent tonic to digestive organs, a powerful aid in cure of rheumatism and a preventive to colds.

Enemas are like a standing army, to be employed in emergency, but we should diligently seek every aid to natural digestion, that we may not be in need of unnatural and weakening methods.

W

Doctor or Parson?

HEN we took hold of THE CoLUMBUS MEDICAL JOURNAL WE had a subscription list mainly consisting of ethical doctors and exchanges with publishers of ethical medical journals.

In sending out the new COLUMBUS MEDICAL JOURNAL, a few of these ethical fellows are displeased with the change in editorial policy. We occasionally get a letter on the subject. We received one anonymous letter from Dallas, Texas, probably from one or the other of the two medical journals published in that city, which happened to be on our exchange list.

That letter was a scurrilous affair, to which the writer did not dare sign his name. If we cared to stir the matter up we might furnish the postal authorities with sufficient evidence to make it very uncomfortable for our ethical correspondent. But we do not care to do that. The object of these remarks is not to call attention to that feature of the matter.

I accept the criticism as valid. Perhaps I am more of a parson than a doctor. I sincerely hope so.

The conventional idea of a parson is, that he is a good-natured fellow, wholly wedded to the purpose of doing good, with no special ambition for worldly riches or fame or wisdom. Just a kindly, contented person wholly satisfied with his little parish and his humble way of making himself useful.

But a doctor, the conventional idea of a doctor is an entirely different person. He is rather a savage and austere man, carrying knives and poisons, and smelling of antiseptics and tobacco. To his visits are attached fees. He has little time for talk, but rushes into the house in a mysterious way, carrying with him consternation and concern. His visits are more like the visits of an undertaker than a friend. A very useful man, undoubtedly. Many times indispensable. But he is quite as apt to bring a cloud as a streak of sunshine. A fellow who has had his heart thoroughly hardened by his familiarity with suffering, with surgery, with cruel experiments upon living animals.

Such is a hasty picture of the doctor. Let us contrast it with the other picture of a parson. Which had you rather be, a little doctor and a big parson, or a big doctor and a little parson?

For myself, I had rather have more parson and less doctor, than to have it the other way. Therefore, I accept the title of my sinister critic who dare not sign his name.

I had rather people would think of me as a parson, than as a doctor.

I hope THE COLUMBUS MEDICAL JOURNAL will strike every one as being edited more with the spirit of the parson than the spirit of the doctor. To be sure, we must have a little of the doctor talk in our JOURNAL. We must have drugs now and then. We must recommend surgery occasionally. The doctor will appear in every issue of our JOURNAL. But I will

try to make him as small as I can. The parson will appear, also, in counsel and consolation and words bringing hope and cheer into the home. I will try to make him as big as I can. I will try to justify my godfather, whoever he is, away off there in Dallas, Texas, in naming me "The Little Doctor and the Big Parson." He has hit the case exactly right. What he intended as

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a blow has proven to be a friendly slap of encouragement.

With his cold, unfriendly glance at THE COLUMBUS MEDICAL JOURNAL, he has discovered the parson to be the uppermost. Good! So let it be. I think the majority of my readers will be glad to have it this way. A little doctor and a big parson. I shall make a sincere effort to carry out the program that my ethical critic has so contemptuously assigned to me.

ENCLOSED please find subscription for one year to THE COLUMBUS MEDICAL JOURNAL. It should be in every home. Very sincerely, MRS. M. F. WHEELER, Enterprise, Ore.

CIENCE means knowledge, something actually demonstrable, actually true. Health means one condition only, that in which the physical system is working harmoniously. There is, consequently, no such condition as bad health. When the physical system is working harmoniously we have health. At all other times we do not have health. Therefore, health is physical harmony.

Health and how to gain it has been a problem that has interested scientific men of all ages, and it is only within the last few years that we have been able to detect the cause of inharmony. We find the cause within the human machine or body and not on the outside, as long supposed.

The brain is the great nerve center, and the nerves ramifying throughout the body are only branches of it for conveying impulses to all parts of the human machine. By dissection it has been discovered that the brain has fibers which all run to a common center, the medulla, and from this center we now have good evidence that the fibers continue to all parts of the human mechanism.

These nerves run in bundles and each bundle carries several kinds of nerves,

such as, sensory, motor, reparatory calorific serous, circulatory, etc. As they proceed from the brain they divide and subdivide until they reach the organ they are designed to control.

Now if there is any interference with a nerve at any point between its origin and place of final destination, there is of necessity a lack of ease or health. The person who has this impingement cannot attain health until such impingement is removed. The pressure is almost invariably found at the exit of the nerve or nerves from the spinal foramen, and in most cases can easily be removed by one who makes such work a specialty. So long as there are impinged nerves one can not be in health, but as soon as the pressure is removed, Nature asserts herself, and we, in consequence, have health.

Here we are confronted with the fact that we do actually know something about "The Science of Health." The fact that impinged (pinched) nerves cannot function properly has thrown a great beam of light into a dark place, and to accentuate the matter, impingements can now be removed, and Nature is enabled to restore physical harmony. This means health.