of course, and perhaps a fur cape, but no sort of wrap about their head
or throat; and _pulmonia_ is comparatively unknown among women. To
English people, accustomed to plenty of fresh air and water, Madrid has
never been an unhealthy place, and it is extremely probable that one of
these days our doctors will be sending their consumptive patients there
for the winter. They might easily do worse.

One of the coldest winters I remember in Madrid, a young Englishman came
out with a letter of introduction from friends. He looked as if he had
not many weeks to live, and in truth he was condemned by his doctors,
and his hours were numbered. He was a Yorkshireman by birth, but had
some years past developed seeds of consumption. He had been sent year
after year to Madeira and other of the old resorts, having been told
that a winter in England would certainly finish him. Finally, he made
his doctors tell him the truth: it was that he had not many months,
perhaps not many weeks, to live.

"Very well, then," he replied, "there is no use worrying any more about
my health. I shall do my best to enjoy the little time I may have left."
He threw all his medicines and remedies out of the window, he looked out
for the most unhealthy place he could find, where he would be most
certain of never meeting another consumptive patient; and in the course
of the search he came across the well-worn chestnut about the air of
Madrid. "That is the place for me," he exclaimed; "only strong and
healthy people can live there. At any rate, so long as I do live, I
shall be amongst sound lungs, and shall see no more fellow-sufferers.
The _aire tan sutil_ will kill me, and that will be the end of the
matter." So far from killing him, the fine champagne-like air of Madrid
went as near curing him as was possible for a man with only one lung. He
took no precautions, never wrapped up, went out at night as well as by
day, and when he died, fourteen years later, it was not of consumption.
He used to come to Madrid for the winter to escape the damp of England,
and revelled in the warmth and freshness of that sun-steeped air.

The climate of Madrid has sensibly altered since I have known it, and
will continue to do so as vegetation increases and trees spring up and
grow to perfection within and around it. In the old times, before the
splendid service of water of the Lozoya Canal was in common use, the air
was so dry as to make one's skin uncomfortable, and one's h