In the summer of 1904, Dr. Clinton L. Bagg, of New York,
went to Newfoundland for a fishing trip. The Codroy country was,
as usual, plagued with mosquitoes, but as soon as the party crossed
into the Garnish River Valley, a land of woods and swamps like the
other, the mosquitoes had disappeared. Dr. Bagg spent the month of
August there, and found no use for nets, dopes, or other means of
fighting winged pests; there were none. What the secret was no one
at present knows, but it would be a priceless thing to find.
Now, lest I should do injustice to the Northland that will some
day be an empire peopled with white men, let me say that there are
three belts of mosquito country the Barren Grounds, where they are
worst and endure for 2 1/2 months; the spruce forest, where they
are bad and continue for 2 months, and the great arable region of
wheat, that takes in Athabaska and Saskatchewan, where the flies
are a nuisance for 6 or 7 weeks, but no more so than they were in
Ontario, Michigan, Manitoba, and formerly England; and where the
cultivation of the land will soon reduce them to insignificance,
as it has invariably done in other similar regions. It is quite
remarkable in the north-west that such plagues are most numerous
in the more remote regions, and they disappear in proportion as
the country is opened up and settled.
Finally, it is a relief to know that these mosquitoes convey no
disease - even the far-spread malaria is unknown in the region.
Why did I not take a "dope" or "fly repellent," ask many of my
friends.
In answer I can only say I have never before been where mosquitoes
were bad enough to need one. I had had no experience with fly-dope.
I had heard that they are not very effectual, and so did not add
one to the outfit. I can say now it was a mistake to leave any means
untried. Next time I carry "dope." The following recipe is highly
recommended:
Pennyroyal, one part,
Oil of Tar, " "
Spirits of Camphor, " "
Sweet Oil, or else vaseline, three parts.
Their natural enemies are numerous; most small birds prey on them;
dragon-flies also, and the latter alone inspire fear in the pests.
When a dragon-fly comes buzzing about one's head the mosquitoes
move away to the other side, but it makes no considerable difference.
On Buffalo River I saw a boatman or water-spider seize, and devour
a mosquito that fell within reach; which is encouraging, because,
as a rule, the smaller the foe, the deadlier, and the only creature
that really affects the whole mosquito nation is apparently a small
red parasite that became more and more numerous as the season wore
on. It appeared in red lumps on the bill and various parts of the
stinger's body, and the victim became very sluggish. Specimens
sent to Dr. L. 0. Howard, the authority on mosquitoes, elicited
the information that it was a fungus, probably new to science.
But evidently it is deadly to the Culex. More power to it, and the
cause it represents; we cannot pray too much for its increase.
Now to sum up: after considering the vastness of the region
affected - three-quarters of the globe - and the number of diseases
these insects communicate, one is inclined to say that it might be
a greater boon to mankind to extirpate the mosquito than to stamp
out tuberculosis. The latter means death to a considerable proportion
of our race, the former means hopeless suffering to all mankind;
one takes off each year its toll of the weaklings the other spares
none, and in the far north at least has made a hell on earth of
the land that for six months of each year might be a human Paradise.
CHAPTER X
A BAD CASE
My unsought fame as a medicine man continued to grow. One morning
I heard a white voice outside asking, "Is the doctor in?" Billy
replied: "Mr. Seton is inside." On going forth I met a young American
who thus introduced himself: "My name is Y - - - , from Michigan.
I was a student at Ann Arbor when you lectured there in 1903. 1
don't suppose you remember me; I was one of the reception committee;
but I'm mighty glad to meet you out here."
After cordial greetings he held up his arm to explain the call and
said: "I'm in a pretty bad way."
"Let's see."
He unwound the bandage and showed a hand and arm swollen out of all
shape, twice the natural size, and of a singular dropsical pallor.
"Have you any pain?"
"I can't sleep from the torture of it."
"Where does it hurt now?"
"In the hand."
"How did you get it?"
"It seemed to come on after a hard crossing of Lake Athabaska. We
had to row all night."
I asked one or two more questions, really to hide my puzzlement.
"What in the world is it?" I said to myself; "all so fat and puffy."
I cudgelled my brain for a clue. As I examined the hand in silence
to play for time and conceal my ignorance, he went on:
"What I'm afraid of is blood-poisoning. I couldn't get out to a
doctor before a month, and by that time I'll be one-armed or dead.
I know which I'd prefer."
Knowing, at all events, that nothing but evil could come of fear,
I said: "Now see here. You can put that clean out of your mind.
You never saw blood-poisoning that colour, did you?"
"That's so," and he seemed intensely relieved.
