A Yorkshire Almanac Comprising 366 Historical Extracts, Red-letter Days and Customs, and Astronomical and Meteorological Data
John Henry Bell. 1881/06/11. On Woolsorters’ Disease. British Medical Journal. London. Get it:
.J. Gill, 72, died at 11 a.m. in my presence, 47 hours after leaving work. I have attended many cases of this disease when the cough was slight; this is the first case I have known without cough. I examined blood taken from the finger ten minutes before death, and failed to detect any bacilli. A small quantity, given to a mouse, produced death in 36 hours. Non-mobile bacilli were numerous in its spleen. The left side of the chest did not yield fluid. I removed some from the right side by a hypodermic syringe for examination; it contained numerous long motionless bacilli. I visited the mill where the deceased had worked, and was shown the various processes to which the wool was subjected before arriving at the machine which he tended. I was told, that, during the last six weeks, a lot of 250 bales of Van mohair, which was considered of good quality, had been used. When taken out of the bales, the hair was washed in soap-suds at 49-54ºC; then passed through rollers dried by hot air; sorted; washed, and dried again as before; passed through five preparing machines (or carded), then combed, before it arrived at the back-washing machine, where it passed through soap-suds at a temperature of about 38°C (at the time of my visit 54°C). The hair had been manipulated by more than a dozen work people before it reached the deceased. At each stage, its infective powers would be weakened. Those who handled it most, when it was most virulent, did not suffer. From this, and many other corroborative instances, it appears probable that the virus may gain access to the blood through some accidental abrasion of the mucous membrane. J.R. Baker, 58, machine wool-comber, on Monday, May 16th, tended the back-washing machine at which the deceased J. Gill had worked on Saturday. He had always enjoyed good health, was very temperate, and had worked for the same firm nine years. Soon after he commenced work, his left forearm was touched by one of the cog-wheels of the machine and a small portion of skin on the outer surface was nipped and torn. He thought nothing of it, but washed the blood and dirt off with a little wool, which he wet in the warm soapsuds through which the Van mohair was passing in his machine. Three days afterwards, his forearm was swollen; he was surprised at this, as he “had excellent healing flesh.”[Baker died 25 May.] Serum from the arm contained bacilli; two tubes, given to a mouse 45 hours afterwards, were fatal in sixty-five hours.
To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.
Abbreviations:
The Bradford Observer reports that the firm was Sugden & Briggs (Bradford Observer 1881/05/31).
I’d like to read F.W. Eurich’s “The History of Anthrax in the Wool Industry of Bradford, and of its Control” (1926) without paying The Lancet for the privilege. Even the Russians don’t seem to have it. Others:
Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog is one of the worst anthrax films I’ve seen. Sorry, the toddler calls:
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[J. Gill, 72] died at 11 a.m., in my presence, forty-seven hours after leaving work. I have attended many cases of this disease when the cough was slight; this is the first case I have known without cough. I examined blood taken from the finger ten minutes before death, and failed to detect any bacilli. A small quantity, given to a mouse, produced death in thirty-six hours. Non-mobile bacilli were numerous in its spleen… The left side of the chest did not yield fluid. I removed some from the right side by a hypodermic syringe for examination; it contained numerous long motionless bacilli.
I visited the mill where the deceased had worked, and was shown the various processes to which the wool was subjected before arriving at the machine which he tended. I was told, that, during the last six weeks, a lot of 250 bales of “Van” mohair, which was considered of good quality, had been used. When taken out of the bales, the hair was washed in soap-suds at 120° to 130°F; then passed through rollers dried by hot air; sorted; washed, and dried again as before; passed through five preparing machines (or carded), then combed, before it arrived at the back-washing machine, where it passed through soap-suds at a temperature of about 100°F (at the time of my visit 130°F). The hair had been manipulated by more than a dozen work people before it reached the deceased. At each stage, its infective powers would be weakened. Those who handled it most, when it was most virulent, did not suffer. From this, and many other corroborative instances, it appears probable that the virus: may gain access to the blood through some accidental abrasion of the mucous membrane…
J.R. Baker, aged 58, machine wool-comber, on Monday, May 16th, tended the back-washing machine at which the deceased J. Gill had worked on the previous Saturday. He had always enjoyed good health, was very temperate, and had worked for the same firm nine years. Soon after he commenced work, his left forearm was touched by one of the cog-wheels of the machine – a small portion of skin on the outer surface was nipped and torn; he thought nothing of it, but washed the blood and dirt off with a little wool, which he wet in the warm soapsuds through which the “Van” mohair was passing in his machine. Three days afterwards (May 19th), his forearm was swollen; he was surprised at this, as he “had excellent healing flesh”…
[Baker died on 25 May.] Serum from the arm contained bacilli; two tubes, given to a mouse forty-five hours afterwards, were fatal in sixty-five hours.
446 words.
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