The object of quarantine is to prevent the introduction of epidemic diseases from one country into another, and its regulations are based on the assumption of the contagiousness of the diseases with which it deals; it being supposed that such diseases are propagated by contact, direct or indirect, of the unaffected with the affected. In accordance with this view the preventive means adopted by quarantine consist of the isolation of the sick or suspected, with whom it interdicts all communication, whether by person or by articles deemed capable of transmitting contagion.

When quarantine was first established, the spread of epidemic diseases exclusively or chiefly by contagion was a doctrine universally received;^[25] but during the last century a change has gradually taken place in professional opinion in almost every country in Europe, particularly in France, Russia, and Austria, as well as in America, with respect at least to several of these diseases, chiefly by medical officers, who, having had the charge of the health of fleets and armies in different quarters of the globe, have been under the necessity of studying the circumstances connected with the outbreak and spread of formidable epidemics; and also by those who, having had the care of hospitals and dispensaries in large cities, have been obliged to visit the localities and abodes of the poorer classes, where these diseases are always the most prevalent.

The consideration of the common properties of pestilence, under whatever form or name it may occur, has led to the general conclusion that the true safeguards against pestilential diseases are not quarantine regulations, but sanitary measures—that is to say, measures which tend to prevent or remove certain conditions, without which pestilential diseases appear to be incapable of existing.

The whole machinery of quarantine is based on the assumption that by an absolute interdiction of communication with the sick, either by the person or by infected articles, it can prevent the introduction of epidemic disease into an unaffected community.

But this assumption overlooks the essential condition on which epidemic disease depends, namely,—the presence of an epidemic atmosphere, without which it is now generally admitted that no contagion, whether imported or native, can cause a disease to spread epidemically. Allowing, therefore, to contagion all the influence which any one supposes it to possess, and to quarantine all the control over it which it claims, there remains the condition, the primary and essential condition, which confessedly it cannot reach, namely, the epidemic atmosphere.

Experience affords evidence that the influence of an epidemic atmosphere may exist over thousands of square miles, and yet affect only particular localities. The cases of cholera which have occurred in numerous and widely distant parts of England and Scotland mark the presence of the epidemic influence; yet over this extended area cholera has fixed itself and prevailed as an epidemic only in very few places. Why has it localized itself in these particular places? Probably because it has there found conditions of a specific kind, either local or personal, or both. It follows that our true course is to make diligent search for all localizing circumstances, and to remove them, so as to render the locality untenantable for the epidemic. But quarantine makes no such search, and leaves all localizing conditions untouched and unthought of.

Hence the signal failure of quarantine as a means of prevention, with reference at least to the most prevalent epidemics, in all the nations of Europe in which it has been tried in modern times; and hence the general relaxation, and in some instances the total abandonment, of the system of quarantine, with reference to several diseases against which it was formerly rigidly enforced, and the growing distrust in the supposition that measures of this kind really afford protection against the introduction of any epidemic disease into any country.

The influence of great epidemics is not limited to human beings; it extends to all classes of domestic animals.

It is stated by Dr Thomas Lesslie Gregson, who was at Alexandria during the prevalence of the great plague of 1836, on duty there as surgeon-in-chief to the Naval, Military, and Civil Hospital, that cattle were attacked with decided symptoms of plague some time before the disease broke out among the human species. “Before the disease broke out,” he says, “a number of the Pacha’s oxen were seized with a malady, of which above one hundred died in a few days. I was sent to investigate and report on this epidemic. On examination I found gastroenterite in the most intense degree; so much so, that I have found extensive gangrene in oxen that have only been observed ill twelve hours. They had also large buboes. This I reported plague, and caused them to be interred deeply.”

Quarantine is based on the assumption that epidemic diseases depend upon a specific contagion; but the question of contagion has no necessary connection with that of quarantine. The real question is whether quarantine can prevent the extension of epidemic diseases, whatever may be their nature, whether contagious or not. If it can, it is valuable beyond price; if it cannot, it is a barbarous encumbrance, interrupting commerce, obstructing international intercourse, periling life, and wasting, and worse than wasting, large sums of the public money.

But if the power of protecting the country from the introduction and spread of disease, whether contagious or otherwise, claimed by quarantine, be really possessed by it, this must be proved by other considerations than those which establish the contagiousness of disease; it is a mere matter of evidence and experience, and consequently the disputed point of contagion should be placed entirely out of view in this discussion, and the whole question should be argued on the broad ground whether or not quarantine is a public security, or is capable of affording practically any useful result.

There is indeed one point of view in which it may be proper, and even necessary, to consider the question of contagion with relation to that of quarantine. Assuming the existence of contagion, if it can be proved that quarantine, instead of affording any protection against contagion, absolutely fosters it, then the stronger the proof of contagion the more decisive the argument presented by it against quarantine; and it will be shown hereafter that this is the true and the only relation in which contagion stands to this question.

There is no more reason why the controversy on contagion should complicate the question of quarantine than why it should continue to encumber the general subject of the removable causes of disease, from which efforts have long been made to disentangle it.

The discussion whether epidemic diseases arise and spread from contagion or from common or specific poisons generated in the localities in which these pestilences first break out, has nothing whatever to do with quarantine, the sole inquiry with reference to this question being whether, however epidemic diseases arise, quarantine can prevent their introduction into a country or arrest their progress when there.

Few will question that the progress of the opinion of observers in Europe during the last half-century has been steadily towards a material modification, if not an entire abandonment, of the doctrine of contagion with reference to the majority of epidemic diseases, taking the word contagion in its strict sense, that is, the communicability of disease exclusively by contact: direct, that is, with the body or breath of an infected person; or indirect, with something which an infected person has touched.

Cholera may be taken as an example of the diseases of the epidemic class. When cholera first invaded Europe in 1831,^[26] the belief in its contagious nature was almost universal, and in this country in particular there was scarcely a medical man who did not entertain this conviction; but as in India, where this disease is known, the belief in its contagious nature is universally abandoned, so in Europe it gradually diminished in proportion as opportunities of observing the disease increased; and now in Russia, Poland, Prussia, France, Belgium, and England, the contrary view, with few exceptions, is maintained.

There has been much confusion of terms in respect to the use of the words contagion and non-contagion. Professional men have avowed their belief of the contagiousness of typhus, and stated that they had experienced it in their own persons. When asked for the evidence on which the belief was founded, they have usually related some circumstances showing, not the contagiousness, but the infectiousness of the disease. Contagion is a term applicable to a different set of circumstances. According to the hypothesis of contagion, no matter how pure the air, no matter what the condition of the fever ward, if the physician only feels the pulse of the patient, or touches him with the sleeve of his coat, though he may not catch the disease himself, he may communicate it by a shake of the hand to the next friend he meets; or that friend, without catching it himself, may give it to another; or if the physician wash and fumigate his hand, but neglect the cuff of his coat, he may still convey the deadly poison to every patient whose pulse he feels during the day. If this were so, the track of a general practitioner who attended one patient labouring under a specific epidemic disease would be marked by the seizure of the rest of his patients; if it were true of cholera and typhus, the members of the General Board of Health must have fallen by these diseases, who from morning until night received inspectors that came from places where these epidemics were rife; and if any disease of common occurrence really possessed such powers of communication and diffusion, it is difficult to conceive how it is that the human race has not been long since extinguished.^[27] To assume the method of propagation by touch, whether by the person or of infected articles, and to overlook that by the corruption of the air, is at once to increase the real danger, from exposure to noxious effluvia, and to divert attention from the true means of remedy and prevention. It is not in human power to take from any disease the property of contagion, if this property really belongs to it; but it is in our power to guard against and prevent the effects of any contagion, however intense; and it is equally in our power to avoid communicating to common disease an infectious character, and aggravating it into pestilence.

If indeed the emanations thrown off from the living body formed permanent and powerful poisons, like miasms connected with the products of decomposition, and if they were, like such products, capable of being conveyed unchanged to great distances, we should be able to live only in solitude; we could never meet in society, for we should poison each other; the first symptom of illness would be the signal for the abandonment of the sick, and we should be compelled by a due regard to self-preservation to withhold from persons afflicted with disease every kind and degree of assistance that required personal attendance.

Happily, we are not so constituted, and the evidence that has been adduced of the narrowness of the sphere even of the most virulent contagion, shows the groundlessness of the alarm sometimes entertained respecting this dreaded agent, while it points to the certain means of destroying it. The London Fever Hospital is separated from the Small-Pox Hospital only by the space of between thirty and forty feet, and the windows of the wards of both establishments are immediately opposite each other: yet there is no instance of the communication of small-pox to the typhus patients, nor of typhus to the small-pox patients; nor of either disease to the convalescent, or to the official inmates of the adjoining establishment. There does not appear to be a single instance on record, in any country, of the extension of infection beyond the walls of an hospital, or even of a lazar-house, so as to injure in any manner the nearest inhabitants.

But though it appears that modern experience and research have shed considerable light on the origin and progress of epidemic diseases, yet there are still some circumstances connected with their propagation which the present state of our knowledge does not enable us to understand, and which therefore appear to us as difficulties.

These cases are sometimes termed exceptional; but they are only apparent, not real, exceptions; as in all other departments of human research, they are merely indications of the imperfection of our knowledge, and advancing science will unquestionably one day so elucidate these very exceptions, as to render them additional confirmations of the true conditions.

In the present state of popular opinion it has been deemed requisite to enter into this detailed consideration of the general subject of contagion, because it appears that in proportion as undue weight is attached to this dreaded agent the effect is mischievous; since, “it diverts attention from the true source of danger, and the real means of protection, and fixes it on those which are imaginary; creates panic; leads to the neglect and abandonment of the sick; occasions great expense for what is worse than useless; and withdraws attention from that brief but important interval between the commencement and the development of disease, during which remedial measures are most effective in its cure.”

It is also necessary to examine the questions of contagion and quarantine apart from each other, because there are points of obscurity, and therefore grounds for controversy, which, in the present state of our knowledge, may be reasonably considered as belonging to the former, that do not attach to the latter. The inquiry with reference to quarantine, indeed, is simple, and lies in a narrow compass. The sole question to be determined is, whether or not it accomplishes, or is capable of accomplishing, its professed object, and this is a mere question of evidence and experience.

The object of quarantine is to prevent the introduction of epidemic diseases from one country into another, and the agency which it employs for this purpose is the isolation of the sick; the detention of, and the placing under inspection for a given period, persons who come from an infected country or district, though they may not be actually sick; and the purification of articles of commerce presumed to be capable of imbibing and conveying pestilential virus, before such articles are landed and dispersed.

It appears that facts and observations place beyond all reasonable doubt the utter inutility of this system.

If there be any truth in the preceding representation, that epidemic diseases are universally and inseparably connected with an epidemic atmosphere, the question is at once decided. Quarantine can exercise no more control over this epidemic atmosphere than over the electricity and temperature of the common atmosphere, and the direction and force of the wind.

If it be true that epidemic diseases, such, for example, as influenza and cholera, traverse the globe in determinate courses or zones, and often spread from country to country, and through the vast populations of their great cities, in single weeks, and even days, it must be futile to array such a machinery as that of quarantine, that is to say, a vessel placed at the entrance of one or two seaport towns, a line of soldiers guarding a few miles of the frontier, of a particular country against morbific agents, which pursue their course like the blight that destroys the vegetation of a country in a night, and which extend their influence over the greater part of the habitable globe.

If it be true that the epidemic influence precedes the actual outbreak of epidemic disease—that that epidemic influence is present in a country, creating a predisposition or susceptibility to disease before the epidemic appears in its true and recognized form,—quarantine must be futile, because, before it takes its precautions or erects its barriers, such as they are, the epidemic is already in the country busy in action, vitiating the blood of the most susceptible of the population, and preparing the way for its general attack.

If it be true, as ancient and modern authorities are agreed, that, without the essential preliminary of an epidemic atmosphere on the spot, foreign contagion is inert, and that, unless both concur, no pestilence ensues, quarantine under any circumstances must be useless; for in the absence of an epidemic atmosphere it must be useless, because then no disease will spread beyond the individual affected; and with the presence of an epidemic atmosphere it must be useless, because then the disease will spread wherever the infected atmosphere goes and finds favouring conditions.

If the preceding principle be true, it must be futile to place vessels coming from infected countries in quarantine, unless those vessels are capable of bringing with them an epidemic atmosphere, and unless quarantine can control such an atmosphere when imported; and the uselessness of this procedure will be placed in a still stronger light when recent experience as to the comparative insusceptibility of Europeans, though resident on the spot, to plague itself is considered.^[28]

If the great practical truth, taught by modern investigation and experience, be, that the only real security against any kind and degree of epidemic disease is an abundant and constant supply of pure air, the prevention of overcrowding, and the dispersion of the sick; and if, as is generally agreed, confinement in a foul atmosphere can convert common fever into pestilence, and ventilation and dispersion can dissipate any contagion, then quarantine must be not only useless but pernicious, since the invariable effect of quarantine as hitherto practised in all countries has been the congregation and confinement of the sick, and of those who, though not actually sick, are suspected to have in them the seeds of disease, requiring only a few days or hours for their development,—the congregation and confinement of such persons in a limited space, often in a filthy ship and an unhealthy locality, and always under circumstances calculated to excite apprehension and alarm—conditions in the highest degree favourable to the generation and spread of disease: it follows that quarantine, instead of guarding against and preventing disease, fosters and concentrates it, and places it under conditions the most favourable that can be devised for its general extension; and therefore must not only fail to accomplish its object, but tend to produce the very calamity which it endeavours to prevent.

The principal ground on which objection is made to the continuance of quarantine is that the fundamental principle on which it is based is fallacious, and that the only means of preventing the origin and spread of epidemic disease is the adoption of sanitary measures. Substitution of sanitary measures for quarantine restrictions would render the importation of any disease from one country into another in the highest degree improbable.

There has been and continues to be a popular impression of the importation or the contagiousness of disease, created by the frequent occurrence of epidemic diseases amongst itinerant classes of the population. Seeing the occurrence of such diseases amongst those who travel, it is an easy and apparently a natural inference that the diseases are carried by them. Thus, the low tramps’ lodging-houses in our towns were in the Sanitary Report shown to be throughout the country the worst of fever-nests in each place; but they were also shown at the same time to be the places where there was the most overcrowding and the greatest filth. With a stationary population, with the same overcrowding and filth, it may be confidently pronounced that the disease would be worse. When by bad weather the tramps are detained and kept stationary, it is worse. The tramping about from town to town and in the open air—the movement which to superficial observation imports the disease—in reality mitigates it. From what we have already said, it is consistent with this general statement that tramps infected with fever in one place may carry it with them and spread infection in another place amongst classes of persons predisposed by the like habits and conditions, as was exemplified in the spreading of the Pali plague. Of late times the poor Irish emigrants are said to have imported fever into this country; they are represented, for example, to have imported fever into Liverpool; but the description of the places where the fever burst out, and the overcrowding in them, displayed fever-nests sufficient to have produced fatal results on the most robust of the stationary populations. “In one small cellar with no window,” a gentleman, who ministered to the wants of the poor people who had crept for shelter into damp uninhabited houses, and who, it was stated, fell a victim to the contagious nature of the fever, found “eighteen persons in fever, lying on wet dirty straw. In one house he counted eighty-one, in another sixty-one, in every stage of fever, on straw in the corners.” It would be surprising if the poor Irish had not imported fever into the lower districts of towns, when, as in Glasgow, they have added 10,000 annually to the already overcrowded and wretched population of that city; just as the miserable refugees from the infected villages of Ragpootana carried the pestilence into the close, filthy, and already overcrowded huts of the neighbouring villages. But the conditions in which the Irish emigrants have arrived, and have been crowded together in the towns as well as on shipboard, are just the conditions in which fevers arise amidst stationary populations; and, we may confidently state, would have been worse had the particular class of migrants been stationary.

The like delusion as to the importation of disease is created by the appearance of fever amongst the migrants at sea. It is important that the universal effects of overcrowding, filth, and atmospheric impurity should be known and discriminated in all cases. It will be seen that they produce their effects at sea as well as elsewhere. It appears to be most important also to display the facts as to the common existence of the conditions of fever in ships themselves as at present regulated; and that, if properly regulated, instead of being fever-nests or “the means of importation” of the disease, a voyage in the open sea would become a sure means of arresting any such disease. Epidemic disease is often more severe in ships when stationary in port than when sailing, and with them the passage in fair weather when overcrowding is avoided is a means of mitigation.

The sanitary regulation of the ships themselves—a measure of the utmost importance to the seafaring classes of the community—would accomplish far more than could be hoped for or pretended to be accomplished by any known system of quarantine, and would have, moreover, a beneficial effect upon popular opinion by removing the fallacious appearances which favour the belief in imported disease, while they divert attention from the true causes of disease, the removable and preventible causes that exist on the spot.

The basis of sanitary legislation is the evidence that has been accumulated in relation to the whole of the epidemic, endemic, and contagious diseases, and the latest opinions of medical authorities with reference to them. It having been shown by indubitable evidence that the prevalence and mortality of typhus, scarlatina, cholera, and every other epidemic disease, are uniformly in proportion to the low sanitary condition of the population, the Legislature has decided on attempting to check the prevalence of these diseases by laying the foundation of sanitary improvement.^[29] It appears that the measures adopted by the Legislature with this view should be consistently carried out and applied to the dwellings of all classes of the population whether on land or at sea. In the larger vessels in which well-directed care has been exercised, the general ill-health has been reduced below the average ill-health of populations of the like ages on shore; but from the evidence which has been brought from witnesses at the ports, medical men well acquainted from long practice in the mercantile marine, it appears that the general condition of merchant-vessels, and of the forecastle in which common seamen are, for the most part, lodged, renders them in effect cellar-dwellings, just as dark, foul, and unventilated, as the filthy, unaired, and dismal cellars on shore with which the Legislature has endeavoured to deal. It appears also that typhus and other epidemic diseases do break out at sea in these movable cellars, just as they do in the cellars of the dirtiest courts on shore; and were it not that seamen work in a purer external atmosphere, that they are below decks comparatively for short intervals only, and that in general they are men at the most robust periods of life, it is probable that epidemic disease would be still more frequent among them; an inference supported by the fact that whenever passengers, emigrants, and others are, owing to stormy weather, much confined to the berths below, some form of malignant disease is almost sure to break out.

There are not wanting instances in which the energetic adoption of such measures as were available, particularly the enforcement of all practicable means of cleansing, and the resolute removal of nuisances, warded off Cholera to a very great extent, even under circumstances in which a formidable attack appeared inevitable; and perhaps it may serve for encouragement and guidance to direct attention to one or two of such examples.^[30]

One of the most remarkable of these occurred at Baltimore, during the prevalence of epidemic cholera in America, in 1849.

The population of that city was about 149,000 souls. The site of the town is naturally salubrious, and parts of it are well built; but the districts near the river occupied by the poorer classes are low and damp, and liable to remittent and intermittent fevers, and, therefore, predisposed to cholera.

In the spring of 1849, the pestilence, which had attacked with great violence several neighbouring towns, appeared to be close upon the city. A general conviction prevailed, both among the authorities and the citizens, that uncleanliness had much to do with the development and spread of the disease; they therefore spared neither money nor labour to purify the city, and they gave the execution of the cleansing operations to experienced and energetic officers, who performed the work so vigorously, that it was generally admitted that never before had the town been in so clean a state, or so thoroughly purified, as during the summer months of the year 1849.

About the middle of June, while cholera was prevailing at New York, Cincinnati, and other places, north and west of Baltimore, diarrhœa broke out, and became general over the whole city, accompanied by another symptom which was universal, affecting even those who had no positive attack of diarrhœa; namely, an indefinable sense of oppression over the whole region of the abdomen, seldom amounting to pain, but constantly calling attention to that part of the body.

“At that time,” says the medical officer of the city, “I felt assured that the poison which produced cholera pervaded the city; that it was brooding over us; that we were already under its influence, and I anticipated momentarily an outbreak of the epidemic. In about two weeks, however, from the commencement of this diarrhœa, and the prevalence of the uneasy sensation which accompanied it, these symptoms began to subside, and in a short time they wholly disappeared. Simultaneously with their disappearance, cholera broke out at Richmond, and other towns south of Baltimore. I then felt assured that the fuel necessary to co-operate with this poison did not exist in our city: that the cloud had passed over us and left us unharmed.”

No case of cholera was reported to the Board of Health or other authorities of the town as having occurred during this time; but on close examination, it was ascertained that four deaths had taken place from the disease in its most virulent form.

That the cholera poison had really pervaded the city, was appallingly evinced by an event which occurred in its immediate vicinity.

The Baltimore almshouse is situated about two miles from the city, on sloping ground, remarkable for its beauty and salubrity, in immediate contiguity with the country-seats of several of the wealthy families of the town. It is surrounded by a farm of upwards of 200 acres, belonging to the establishment, for the most part under cultivation. The building is capable of accommodating between 600 and 700 inmates. An enclosure of about five acres, surrounded by a wall, adjoins the main building upon its north side. In the rear of this north wall is a ravine, which at one point approaches the wall to within about nine feet. This ravine is the outlet for all the filth of the establishment. It is dry in summer, but retentive of wet after rain. The space between the wall and the bed of the ravine is not under tillage, but is overgrown with a rank, weedy vegetation, common in rich waste soils. The physician of the establishment, under the same apprehension of an outbreak of cholera as had prevailed in Baltimore, had taken the same precautions against the disease, and had placed the establishment itself in a state of scrupulous cleanliness.

On the first of July cholera attacked one of the inmates. On the seventh a second attack occurred. This was followed in rapid succession by other seizures, and within the space of one month 99 inmates of the establishment had perished by cholera.

Within the building and grounds the most diligent search failed to discover anything that could account for this outbreak; but on examining the premises outside the northern wall, there was found a vast mass of filth, consisting of the overflowings of cesspools, the drainage from pigsties, and the general refuse of the establishment. “In short,” says the medical officer, “the whole space included between the ravine and the wall, upon its north side, was one putrid and pestilential mass, capable of generating, under the ardent rays of a Midsummer sun, the most poisonous and deadly exhalations.”

During the greater part of the time that this outbreak continued, a slight breeze set in pretty steadily from the north, conveying the poisonous exhalations from behind the north wall directly over the house.

The first persons attacked were those who happened to be particularly exposed to the air blowing from the north side of the building.

On the male side of the house there was no protection from the ravine. The female side was partially protected by three rows of trees. The residents on the women’s side were more numerous than on the men’s, but the attacks were considerably less.

Among the paupers, those who slept in apartments exposed to the north were attacked, those not so exposed generally escaped.

In the basement story of a building, opening directly to the north, and close to a spot which received the contents of one of the cesspools, 17 lunatics were lodged, all of whom were attacked, and all died.

Eight medical students were attached to the establishment, of whom four occupied apartments with a northern exposure, and four were lodged in rooms with a southern exposure. The four whose rooms were exposed to the north were attacked, the four whose rooms were not thus exposed escaped.

The manager, also, who slept in a room above that of the students looking to the north, was attacked: his family, whose rooms looked to the south, escaped.

Men, after some difficulty and delay, were employed to remove the filth and drain the ravine, the whole surface of which, after having been thoroughly cleansed by a stream of water, was thickly covered with lime, over which was put a deep stratum of earth. The men employed in this work were attacked with cholera, as were some of the several inmates of the almshouse who had been dispersed throughout Baltimore, but the disease did not spread to any other persons in the city. From the 25th of July, the day on which the drainage was completed, the disease suddenly declined from 11 the day previous, to 3, and, by the 9th of August, had entirely disappeared.

In the case of Baltimore, and the Baltimore almshouse, a neglected spot was severely visited by the pestilence, while, by well-directed exertion, an entire city escaped. In our own country an instance has lately occurred (1854) in which, by similar exertion, a particular spot escaped, while a populous town was devastated by the plague.

No town in Great Britain has ever been so severely visited by cholera as Newcastle, yet the garrison of Newcastle has wholly escaped.

The barracks in which the garrison of Newcastle is quartered are situated about three-quarters of a mile from the centre of the town. In houses at distances varying from 20 to 200 yards of the barrack gates, numerous deaths from cholera took place, and in a village 250 yards from the barracks the pestilence prevailed to a frightful extent for many days, numbering one or more victims in almost every cottage.

On the outbreak of the pestilence in the town, the medical officers of the garrison, with the sanction and assistance of their superior officers, exerted themselves with great promptitude and energy to carry into effect all the means at their command, calculated to lessen the severity of an attack from which they could not hope altogether to escape. The sewers, drains, privies, and ashpits were thoroughly cleansed; all accumulations of filth were removed; the spots where such filth had been collected were purified; the freest possible ventilation was established day and night in living and sleeping rooms; overcrowding was guarded against; the diet of the residents was, as far as practicable, regulated; the men were strictly confined to barracks after evening roll-call, and were forbidden to go into the low and infected parts of the town; amusements were encouraged in the vicinity of the barracks; every endeavour was made to procure a cheerful compliance with the requirements insisted on, without exciting fear; and there was a medical inspection of the men twice, and of the women and children, once daily.

The influence of the epidemic poison upon the troops was demonstrated by the fact that among 519 persons, the total strength of the garrison, there were 451 cases of premonitory diarrhœa, of which 421 were among the 391 men, irrespective of the officers, women, and children, the attacks being in some instances obstinate, and recurring more than once. Yet such was the success of the judicious measures which had been adopted, that no case of cholera occurred within the barracks during the whole period of the epidemic; and every case of diarrhœa was stopped from passing on to the developed stage of the disease: while in Newcastle there were upwards of 4000 attacks, and 1543 deaths.^[31]