and cells is capable of
being inherited. But this inheritance is almost invariably "recessive,"
in Mendelian terms, and a majority of the children of even the most
rheumatic parent may entirely escape the disease, especially if they
live rationally and vigorously, feed themselves abundantly, and avoid
overwork and overcrowding.

CHAPTER XV

GERM-FOES THAT FOLLOW THE KNIFE, OR DEATH UNDER THE FINGER-NAIL

Our principal dread of a wound is from fear that it may fester instead
of healing quickly. We don't exactly enjoy being shot, or stabbed, or
scratched, though, as a matter of fact, in what Mulvaney calls the "fog
av fightin'" we hardly notice such trifles unless immediately disabling.
But our greatest fear after the bleeding has stopped is lest
blood-poisoning may set in. And we do well to dread it, for in the olden
days,--that is, barely fifty years ago,--in wounds of any size or
seriousness, two-thirds of the risk remained to be run after the
bleeding had been stopped and the bandages put on. Nowadays the danger
is only a fraction of one per cent, but till half a century ago every
wound was expected to form "matter" or _pus_ in the process of healing,
as a matter of course. Most of us can recall the favorite and brilliant
repartee of our boyhood days in answer to the inquisitive query, "What's
the matter?" "Nuthin': it hasn't come to matter yet. It's only a fresh
cut!"

Even surgeons thought it a necessary part of the process of healing, and
the approving term "laudable pus" was applied to a soft, creamy
discharge, without either offensive odor or tinge of blood, upon the
surfaces of the healing wound; and the hospital records of that day
noted with satisfaction that, after an operation, "suppuration was
established." So strongly was this idea intrenched, that a free
discharge or outpouring of some sort was necessary to the proper healing
of the wound, that in the Middle Ages it was regarded as exceedingly
dangerous to permit wounds to close too quickly. Wounds that had
partially united were actually torn apart, and liquids like oil and wine
and strong acids, which tended to keep them from closing and to set up
suppuration, were actually poured into them; and in some instances their
sides were actually burned with hot irons. There was a solid basis of
reason underlying even these extraordinary methods, viz., the "rule of
thumb" observation, handed down from one generation to another, that
wounds that dis