Our Children to Be Invalids? PER ERHAPS not, but how much attention do our schools give to teaching our children the rules of health, by which they may avoid tuberculosis and other preventable diseases? The average schoolbook on arithmetic, geography or what not costs $1 or more. It improves the child mind, but does nothing to secure for him that greatest of all assets-Good Health. Ther and tangan P For less than five cents a copy school children can be supplied with the HEALTH FIRST READER, which teaches not only the physical rules, but the psychology of health as well. It is the recognized child's book on good health; endorsed by the National Tuberculosis Association and many of the foremost men and women in the anti-tuberculosis movement. It is already in use in the schools of Brooklyn, N. Y.; Rochester, N. Y.; Philadelphia, Pa.; Cincinnati, Ohio; Birmingham, Ala.; Memphis, Tenn.; Des Moines, Iowa, and many other cities. Send ten cents in stamps for sample copy and price list. 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Full particulars will be forwarded When dealing with Advertisers please mention JOURNAL OF THE OUTDOOR LIFE Sanatorium Treatment of Tuberculous Diseases Trudeau Sanatorium, Saranac Lake, New York, 1909-1919 Percent o Percent o 25 23 50 Percent o 23 50 30.8 10.6 Condition Percent Females Incipient Moderately Advanced Far Advanced 23 30 Percent 25 Percent o 75 100 Apparently 8.4 4.9 The Condition at Entry of the 1225 Male and 1063 Female Admissions was as Follows -Incipient, 338 Males, 390 Females- For additional information apply to The Prudential Insurance Company of America Incorporated under the laws of the State of New Jersey OUTDOOR LIFE Volume XIX APRIL, 1922 THE COMBAKKERS Inside the Walls By LOUIS VICTOR EYTINGE No. 4 Editorial Note: The JOURNAL OF THE OUTDOOR LIFE is indebted to The Outlook for permission to reprint "Inside the Walls." This story received the first prize in a contest recently conducted by The Outlook for the best article describing the turning point in one's personal experience. HE E staggered through the prison gates, his steel-cuffed hands holding a bloody kerchief to his livid lips, as the hemorrhage hacked at his leaking lungs. Two hours of fitful rest, then he stood upon the scales before the prison doctor and heard the verdict: "Two months more, at best." He studied the scale-beam swaying at its 119 pounds, smiled at his wobbling frail legs and blinked at the blistering sun baking the plastered walls. He was penniless, friendless, a stranger in a strange State, and this was his third and doomed-to-be-last prison experience. Then arose a terrific but unuttered soul protest, for the man must live long enough to clear his name of the brand of Cain. The judge had sentenced him to a life term, the physician had shortened this to two months, but he dared not die with that stigma on his shoulders. He had gayly coasted the facile descent of Avernus and landed at the bottom so hard that he saw stars -they've been shining for him ever since, these stars of inspiration. The turning point came at the greatest depth! wider market, trusted him with his first shipments. In a month the lunger had a dozen dealers; in three months he was ordering business stationery and making the first payment on a typewriter. His situation demanded that he secure the completest confidence of his patrons, and this forced him to tell the strict truth about his wares. Strangest of all, this former forger and swindler found that not only did truth pay, but that he liked it: He was getting the same exulting excitement out of business honesty that he had known in his swindling successes. With wakening awe he saw that business cleanliness and integrity were building up his bodily strength and stiffening a newly found moral backbone. The racking cough was passing, and in two years he was selling $5,000 worth a year, solely through the suasion of his letters. Those same letters attracted the attention of his jobbers, who called on the convict to build them similarly effective sales literature, and soon the lunger was dropping his novelty work to attempt a new field as a business-letter specialist. An advertising magazine asked for an article on better letters, and more than seventyfive articles have appeared under the prisoner's name in different business and advertising publications. Then he founded and was for two years editor of a 64-page monthly devoted to direct-mail advertising, giving it up when business complications and overwork justified a change. A paper on breathing life into let Even as the need for money to satisfy his spendthrift habits had proved his undoing in the past, that same need of money was to effect his rehabilitation. He had to have money with which to purchase foods not listed in the prison fares, so that he might conserve his failing strength, he needed the kindlier comforts that invalids crave, yet where could any money be found? He saw parties of tourists make petty purchases at the prison souvenir stands, yet heters read before the Toronto Convention of the was isolated from this chance in the tubercular ward. If-if these handicraft novelties attracted buyers within forbidding walls, why should they not sell equally well in curio shops? His first letter brought back its acceptance, and his fellow-inmates, eager for a World's Advertising Clubs has been reprinted in more newspapers and booklets than any similar business document. His name appears as author of two business books; a silver cup marks his success in a nation-wide letter contest among advertising men. Because a print IMPORTANT NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS ing-trade journal sneered when he established his magazine he paid it off by winning the largest advertising trophy for a Canadian printer, although he had never set a line of type! Though offered stiff fees, he has never written a line for mining, oil or other promotional or medical literature. As a criminologist he owns some repute, first gained when he published, at his own expense, a booklet that changed one State's law. Again, he was one of the creators of the first Mutual Welfare League ever formed in prison, two years before Thomas Mott Osborne instituted a similar movement in New York. A chance item in a newspaper led to a searching study of anææsthetics (for the lunger was accused of having chloroformed his physical superior in an open buggy) and to a better presentation of the circumstantial facts in his case, with the result that many medical men scout the theory upon which he was convicted and assert the man probably guiltless! Antagonism still exists in purblind prejudice, but the different dailies of the State that once anathematized the man now appeal for his freedom. Debarred from the physical adventure that appeals to all men, he found joy in doing new and different things; thus he was prison steward, he started and built the prison poultry plant, and now the chap is venturing into writing plots for the cinema, two scenarios having been accepted by an agent this autumn. Browned by the healing sun, he is a robust 190pounder; scarified by the shame and suffering of his miserable past, he is learning something of regeneration. If liberty ever comes, he hopes to give society use of the knowledge he so bitterly acquired in twenty years' contact with our greatest failure-our prison system. Three books have been promised waiting publishers, tempting salaries offer a roseate business future, but the man thinks he owes a duty to his fellows, society, and himself to go into prison efficiency work. Handicap has been his incentive; opposition, his stimulus. What he may yet do, to what heights he may mount, is not for me to say, since I'm writing of a "lifer"—myself. I found my turning point when there remained no greater depth to be plumbed! "Have You Met Him?" I knew a feller at the San He couldn't talk upon. He knew about your temperature He knew of all the symptoms He knew of all the ills He knew about the medicines And all about the pills. By JOSEPH BRIEUX He knew when you were going to die Or when you would get well, He knew the difference 'tween the germs He knew about your pressure In such a most convincing way You thought him wise throughout. He didn't need to see He wouldn't let you tell him what But he would hawk and hem and haw One time he told a feller that He didn't have a chance He said that he would croak by Spring, That never more he'd prance. But prophesying life and death Is not much of a bet 'Cause that was several springs ago, The guy is living yet. And then one time he told about He said that he would live to love But heaven sake's alive, this buck |