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Show CHAPTER XXIV. CAMP OP THE CONSUMPTIVES. From the balcony of my hotel I looked away, the morn ing after I came to Tucson, to the northeast, where just outside the city limits, row upon row of white tents break the monotony of gray sand, mesquite and " grease" bush. Here on the desert, protected from the winds on every side by barriers of porphyritic mountains, is pitched the tented city of the consumptives or " lungers" as the rougher element around here call them. Here in this canvas- tented camp the victims of the " white plague" and those threatened by the monster gather from all the states of the East and form a com munity by themselves. The white canvas of the tents gruesomely harmonizes with the pale faces of the un happy victims of the scourge. Farther away to the east I see white specks here and there on the foothills of the Catalinas. I ask a gentleman by my side what these dots are and he courteously answers: " These are the tents of the isolators who wish to live alone and live their own lives in their own way." To- day I visited the camp or reservation of the con sumptives. I seldom carry a letter of introduction, for I am one of those who depend much upon an accidental acquaintance. As I go wandering through the world I see many a face whose mild eyes and sweet, placid feat ures bespeak a gentle mind and a candid soul. Such a face as this is worth more than a dozen of letters of in troduction, for written on it is the assurance of civility and kindness. In any case I knew no one here to whom |