382 TEE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTE LY 



pigeons fed on white bread sit, with their feathers out, huddled to- 

 gether to keep each other warm. 



The metabolism, circulation, respiration and expansion of the lung 

 are all reduced. The warm, moist atmosphere lessens the evaporation 

 from the respiratory tract, and therefore the transudation of tissue 

 lymph and activity of the ciliated epithelium. The unexpanded parts 

 of the lung are not swept with blood. Everything favors a lodgment 

 of the bacilli, and lessens the defences on which immunity depends. 

 In the mouth, too, the immune properties of the saliva are neutralized 

 by the continual presence of food, and the temperature of the mouth 

 is kept at a higher level, which favors bacterial growth. Lieutenant 

 Siem informs me that recently in northern Norway there has been the 

 same notable increase in tuberculosis. The old cottage fireplaces with 

 wide chimneys have been replaced with American stoves. In olden 

 days most of the heat went up the chimney, and the people were 

 warmed by radiant heat. Now the room is heated to a uniform moist 

 heat. The Norwegians nail up the windows and never open them 

 during the winter. At Lofoten, the great fishing center, motor-boats 

 have replaced the old open sailing and row boats. The cabin in the 

 motor-boat is very confined, covered in with watertight deck, heated 

 by the engine, crowded with a dozen workers. When in harbor the 

 fishermen used to occupy ill-fitted shanties, through "which the wind 

 blew freely; now, to save rent, they sleep in the motor-boat cabins. 

 Here, again, we have massive infection, and the reduction of the de- 

 fensive mechanisms by the influence of the warm, moist atmosphere. 



The Norwegian fishermen feed on brown bread, boiled fish, salt 

 mutton, margarine, and drink, when in money, beer and schnapps; 

 there is no gross deficiency in diet, as in Labrador, and beri-beri does 

 not attack them. They return home to their villages and longshore 

 fishing when the season is over. The one new condition which is 

 common to the two districts is confinement in stove-heated, windless 

 atmospheres. In old days the men were crowded together, but in open 

 boats or in draughty shanties, and had nothing but little cooking- 

 stoves. 



The conditions of great cities tend to confine the worker in the 

 office all day, and to the heated atmosphere of club, cinema show or 

 music-hall in the evening. The height of houses prevents the town 

 dweller from being blown upon by the wind, and, missing the exhil- 

 arating stimulus of the cool, moving air, he repels the dull uniformity 

 of existence by tobacco and by alcohol, or by indulgence in food, e. g., 

 sweets, which are everywhere to his hand, and by the nervous excite- 

 ment of business and amusement. He works, he eats, and is amused 

 in warm, windless atmospheres, and suffers from a feeble circulation, 



