Deadly Dust.
A Londoner once made an estimate —it seemed to be made with care—and concluded that if the flying of dust in London streets could be prevented, or even measurably reduced, a million cases of sickness would be saved to the community every year, and ten thousand deaths, that would otherwise occur, would not occur. Estimated in money, that would be a saving, he reckoned, of at least fifty million dollars.
Now without debating those figures, I think we shall all agree—all, at least, who know anything about modern discoveries of disease germs and their prevalence in dust—that the almost constant assaults of this dust upon city people is one of the most serious menaces to life in our modern days. Consumptives, and those suffering from other diseases, expectorate in the street, and the following day the dried effluvia are borne on the lightest breeze into fifty lungs. Post-mortem examinations, conducted on a large scale in many cities, make it certain that few inhabitants of cities but have had tuberculosis at some time, though most of them have been unconscious of it, and have had vitality enough to expel the dangerous intruders, and heal the wounds they have made.
But with the demolition of old buildings, the shaking of rugs, the crowding of cars and of public halls, and many other common operations of our cities, the unsanitary processes go merrily on. Until we wage war with dust and its allies, our campaign against the great white plague will be a succession of defeats.
But, important as all this is, I am not saying it primarily with a physiological or hygienic purpose. Other dust may be raised, as deadly as any that may be laid by a watering-cart; and the dust I mean cannot be laid by a watering-cart.
I mean the dust of spiritual friction, the dust of debate, the dust of unkind criticism, the dust of stinging sarcasm, the dust of malicious slander or thoughtless gossip. It all swarms with poisonous microbes. Rather than live in such dust, I would breathe my lungs full of air from a pest-house. It would be better for my bodily health, and far more comfortable to my soul.
There are those who are continually kicking up this dust. Avoid them as you would the plague.
And oh, live dustless lives yourselves! Move gently. Speak not raspingly. Judge not harshly. Pour oil on the dust that others raise. Live such a life, beloved, and we shall seek your presence as men go with parched and gasping lungs out of a fevered city, to breathe the pure and vivifying air of a mountain-top.