had lacked the money, up to that moment, to complete their wardrobes. The photographer, however, knew a way out. Four cuffs, after all, were enough to cover four wrists. Each boy stood, with one cuffless arm behind his back. The other, displaying a generous amount of cuff, was

stairway leading to his establishment. It mattered little that somebody smashed. the display-case one night and stole the picture. There was no real way in which the dress suits could be kept a secret.

When the next dance came along these four young swells were there, almost with

their hair in a braid. They were present in what we called their monkey suits, faultlessly attired, bowing in a manner Chesterfieldian, and increasing the heart action of the girls to a dangerous degree. "Why don't you get a dress suit?" our girl inquired. Nor was she alone in submitting such a questionnaire. A council of war developed an alarming situation. All the other girls except the fortunate four who went with the fortunate boys who owned dress suits-were asking their escorts the same question.

The most exciting political campaign we remember was in a little place where hogs had been permitted to run at large, to root as they would, and to grunt about the public square as if they owned it. Three candidates for town trustee made their race on a platform that pledged them to the passage of an ordinance requiring all swine to be housed upon the premises of the owner, or elsewhere. No more were hogs to enjoy personal liberty if these men were elected. Three other candidates for places on the town board appealed to the people's sense of justice and declared that if they were chosen at the polls the hogs could run where they liked. The battle-cry was shortened and consolidated to: "Hog up or hog out." The hog-uppers won and the town was torn by dissension for several years, but even this political struggle was tame when compared to the two factions that formed in Midwestia.

Those of us who held our freedom dear and who did not roll in wealth demanded the right to dress as we willed. The other element said that the dress suit was the thing and that any of us who refused to don them were treating the ladies in a manner most discourteous. Prior to the coming of this dress-suit blight an ordinary suit of clothes was good enough for any dance. We wore collars three inches high, to be sure, and we bought a new cravat occasionally. We had our pants pressed and we patronized our barber, after which we showered our respective vests with high-powered, extreme-violet toilet-water. We smelled like a rose, or a violet, but not the shrinking kind. We spent hours parting our hair exactly in the middle and anointing it with sticky liquids in a vain effort to make it behave.

We did all these things as a token of our esteem for the ladies. Why, we asked, should we be required to do more? Why should we be forced to attire ourselves as butlers, waiters, and the like and go flapping about with swallow-tails?

Sad, indeed, were those terrible days when the struggle was on. Some of the weaker brothers held on with no more tenacity than a ripe mulberry. They were almost persuaded at the start. Others there were who fought to the last and went down with colors flying, but the day came or rather the night-when practically all of us surrendered and had our measures taken. The cost of society had mounted by leaps and bounds and had become a matter of competition rather than the pleasant interchange of small talk, so dear and so economical in the past.

It was only another step-one that might have been anticipated-when Pete, the Greek, began to discourage the practice of buying chocolate candy and bonbons in paper sacks and suggested in a most indecent and mercenary manner that we buy boxed candy instead. There was no avenue of escape when we stood before the candy-cases, urging our girl in a half-hearted way to make her own selection. Pete could have grasped a paper sack and held it open, ready to drop in such candy as she selected. Of course he could have done that, but he too had been bitten by the bug that compels its victims to seek riches and yet more riches. Instead of being our friend and helper he brought forth a box-a whole pound box

adorned with a picture of a girl who was seated in a canoe idly dabbling one hand in the water while she held a parasol with the other. "Lazy Days," we believe that picture was called. It was not lazy days for us. We had to get out and dig for the extra money that must be forthcoming when our girl, as we might have suspected, selected the box of candy in preference to the sack that would have done just as well.

The candy was no better when Pete placed paper lace inside the boxes. It reminded us of the manner in which our undertaker decorated the interiors of his best caskets, but it did not persuade the girls to turn away. The candy was no better

when Pete bought some glass paper-the kind you can see through-and wrapped the boxes in that. The candy was no better when Pete attired each chocolate in a little frilly petticoat, but it cost a lot more!

Pete raised the price of chocolates from thirty-five to forty cents a pound, then up to forty-five, and finally to fifty. He even denied that he was making "four hunner per cent profit," because, as he explained, it cost more for glass paper, boxes, partitions, petticoats, pink ribbon, and the like.

But why go on?

You get the drift. Perhaps you lived in a town like Midwestia and had similar experiences. If so, dear brother, you know. You understand the heartaches and the empty purses. You know all about what started the revolution, and you must be assured that if you, and you, and all of you-yea, and all of us-had been willing to fight for the old order in those days things might have been different now. We surrendered because we feared that somebody would laugh at us, that we would be wholly uncomfortable battling for a principle or a cause. We bought banana splits to maintain our social position. We rode in rubber-tired cabs because society demanded it. We poured ourself into a soup-and-fish and suffered the tortures and agonies that went with a boiled shirt, because we wished to march in the procession and sit with the elect. We bought candy by the box when a sack would have sufficed. It

is no wonder in these days that the generation we call our sons and daughters is going ahead where we left off, is struggling with the problem of a sport roadster or a closed car, with plus-fours, golf shoes, English trousers, step-ins, slip-ons, full-fashioned all-silk chiffon stockings, twentydollar dancing-pumps, permanent waves, cover charges, fifty-cent sandwiches, blowouts, white linen knickers, cigarette-lighters, and fraternity houses that cost $100, ooo each. The frat that has a $75,000 house in the quadrangle is going to start a building campaign next fall and has plans in the making for a house that will cost $150,000. Not because the Phi Slappa Thighs need a new home, but because the Gammer Gammer Delters are just moving into a mansion that cost $101,463.79. You have to keep up with competition and be a little better than the fellow next door.

Pete, the Greek, will go to his reward. some day. He's not a bad fellow as such fellows go. Perhaps he had a right to be the author of the banana split, the most important event in all the history of Midwestia. But there is one thing about Pete for which we entertain a secret yearning. We hope that when he reaches the gate St. Peter will ask him to wait a moment. Then we sincerely trust that St. Peter will bring out a pair of perfectly good wings, dust them with grated nuts, dab some fruit juices on them, add a lump of celestial ice-cream, and charge Pete just twice as much for wings as he ordinarily charges anybody else.

T

HE part Americans have played in the great achievements of medical science in the last half-century forms one of the most creditable chapters in the history of this country. One of the major figures in that accomplishment is Doctor William H. Welch, for thirty years professor of pathology in the Johns Hopkins University, a man the influence of whose mind has been felt on the continents of Asia, Europe, and America, and whose work has been of incalculable benefit to the human race, especially to that part of it dwelling in the United States.

To those who are familiar with the manner in which the discoveries of Louis Pasteur, the French chemist, and Doctor Robert Koch, the German physician and teacher, led to the adoption of the germ theory of disease and later to the birth of the science of bacteriology, it is sufficient to say that Doctor Welch was one of the first, if not the very first, to bring the results of the labors of these men to America, to kindle the enthusiasms of students of medicine and practitioners in this country about them, and to start the process of transforming the practice of medicine. The work was begun almost fifty years ago. Throughout all that long period Doctor Welch has remained the master and the counsellor of men who have constantly increased the area in which the new and cleansing sciences have operated to free men from the handicaps of disease and to make lands and cities habitable which were not habitable before.

Endowed with a body of unusual ruggedness, Doctor Welch has survived in complete physical and intellectual vigor to see the results of his labors, and of the labors of other pathologists, written large in the history of civilization. Having con

ducted two tasks of major proportions to completion, the organization of the Hopkins department of pathology and of the Johns Hopkins School of Hygiene and Public Health, he is now, at the age of seventy-seven years, in Europe beginning work on a third: the creation at the Hopkins of a department of the history of medicine and a medical library, both of which are expected to establish new standards in their field.

To get the background of Doctor Welch's life, one must consider the state of American medicine in the first twenty years after the Civil War. The germ theory of disease and bacteriology was then unknown. The use of anaesthetics had begun in surgery, but there were no operating rooms, and no hospitals as we know them to-day. While a form of protection of the patient from infection was practised by some surgeons, it was founded on an instinct of cleanliness rather than on definite knowledge of micro-organisms. Lister used a means of protection based on the methods of Pasteur before the causes of infection had been found. Jenner, in his method of vaccination for smallpox, had touched on one phase of the great revelation which was to come later. But the definite knowledge that particular diseases were caused by particular organisms was not in the possession of medical practitioners. Medicine was one part diagnosis and another part the use of drugs. Cupping and leaching were still in favor. The physician knew little of the millions of organisms which dwelt below the surface of the knowledge of man, in that world of minute things which could be seen only through the microscope, a world from which epidemics arose like the plagues of the ancient world, which were in many cases to sweep communities, to kill thousands, to let thousands of others live unfitted for the struggle for existence. In time of peace

and in time of war these epidemics stalked tragically through human society. When men were concentrated in camps in time of war, thousands died of camp fevers, the causes of which were unsuspected. In times of peace men and women, chiefly those dwelling in cities, died in great numbers. Man struggled through life as through a disease-infested swamp, these unseen, unknown organisms finding lodgment in the body, haul

ing him down, killing or maiming him. Medicine struggled after man, heroic, devoted, but weak and futile.

It was at this period, when Pasteur and Koch were making their discoveries in their separate laboratories, when the microscope was revealing that great chapter in the history of the race, that Doctor Welch came to manhood and began his work. Born in Norfolk, Conn., April 8, 1850, the only son of a family whose sons