148 WINTER SUNSHINE 



it is that the moist atmosphere does not dry up the 

 blood as our air does, and that the carbon and creo 

 sote have some rare antiseptic and preservative quali 

 ties, as doubtless they have, that are efficacious in 

 the human physiology. It is no doubt true, also, 

 that the people do not tan in this climate, as in 

 ours, and that the delicate flesh tints show more on 

 that account. 



I speak thus of these things with reference to our 

 standards at home, because I found that these stand 

 ards were ever present in my mind, and that I was 

 unconsciously applying them to whatever I saw and 

 wherever I went, and often, as I shall have occasion 

 to show, to their discredit. 



Climate is a great matter, and no doubt many of 

 the differences between the English stock at home 

 and its offshoot in our country are traceable to this 

 source. Our climate is more heady and less sto 

 machic than the English; sharpens the wit, but 

 dries up the fluids and viscera; favors an irregular, 

 nervous energy, but exhausts the animal spirits. It 

 is, perhaps, on this account that I have felt since 

 my return how much easier it is to be a dyspep 

 tic here than in Great Britain. One's appetite is 

 keener and more ravenous, and the temptation to 

 bolt one's food greater. The American is not so 

 hearty an eater as the Englishman, but the forces of 

 his body are constantly leaving his stomach in the 

 lurch, and running off into his hands and feet and 

 head. His eyes are bigger than his belly, but an 

 Englishman's belly is a deal larger than his eyes, 



