“The Leaves are Full of Joy.”--Nobility of the Body.--Its
Possibilities.--Brain and Heart Dependent on it.--Physical Culture
Imperative in America.--Our Contempt of Health.--Easier to be
Magnificent than Clean.--Distilled Water for Every Use.--Substitute
for Stills.--Vapor and Sulphur Baths.--Bran Baths.--Oatmeal for the
Hands.--Frequency of Baths.--Remedies for Hepatic Spots.
How lusty and delicate the young leaves grow on their stems in their
nook of sunshine! What could be lovelier in its way than the three
geranium leaves starting from the mould in the window-box where the sun
strikes across the corner of the sill? They are so firmly poised, yet
glancing; each full of green juice that the sun turns to jewel-light,
with spots of darker tint where the feathered edges overlie--a subtle
piece of color wrought by sun and soil for no eye to see but by chance,
yet ecstatic in its delight, as if meant for the centre trefoil of an
altar window. So the sun does all his work. So leaves grow by myriads
in the garden and the forest. So the forces of nature bring forth every
thing perfect if left free to their impulses.
There is something like the leaves in our frames, that would grow
springy and strong, soft-colored and brilliant, upright and joyous, if
it were suffered to. It appeals for sunshine and gayety, for abundant
food and ease, for copious watering, tendance, and freedom. Give it
these, and the body, under present conditions, is as far beyond its
common dullness and weakness as it is below the saints in light; for
heavenly bodies can not be very different from ours unless they cease
to be bodies.
The mortal frame is noble enough as it is. No harp ever vibrates like
it with emotion and pleasure; no star shines so fair or so wise as the
face of man. God made it, and God loves it, which is the reason it wins
so closely upon us, and is so dear. There is no wisdom in despising
the body or its sensations. It is crudity to uphold that the mental
part of us should absorb all the rest. Brain and heart are dependent on
the body, and it was meant, not for the slave--as men seem never weary
of preaching--but for the interpreter and companion of both.
Honor is due the body, and thanks for its pleasures, which should
be enjoyed with intelligence and leisure. They are no more low or
debasing than mental pursuits may be when pursued to the exclusion
of all others. The sensualist is no more intolerable in the order of
nature than the pedant or pretender in literature, and does little
more harm in the long-run. The former ruins himself; the latter, by a
false philosophy, may lead thousands astray. Give the body its due--its
thirds with the mind and the soul. Neither is the better for having
more than its share.
The need of physical culture grows more and more urgent in this
country. Here most unlike races mix sullen and mercurial blood
together in the most variable of climates. They interchange habits as
well, though the only one peculiar to Americans as such is a tolerable
contempt for the conditions of health--a contempt inherited through
half a dozen generations. The climate is not in fault, but the people
are. It is much easier in this country to be magnificent than to be
clean. At any hotel there is enough of useless upholstery, as a matter
of course, but a bath is an extra, often not to be had on any terms.
This is the case even in the metropolis, where at least a better idea
of civilization ought to prevail. For the rest, there is not much to be
said for the intelligent culture of any family who have carpets before
their bath-room is fitted up.
When refinement has reached a step beyond faucets and water-pipes,
each house will have its distilling apparatus to provide the purest
water for drinking and bathing. Nobody will any more think of drinking
undistilled water than they do now of eating brown sugar when they can
get white. Her Majesty the Queen of England uses nothing but distilled
water for her toilet, and the luxury and softness of such a bath are
so great that no one used to its indulgence will consent to forego it.
A small still costs five dollars, and would provide all the water that
is needed for family use. It should be kept in action all the time, and
fill a close reservoir for bathing, while that for cooking and drinking
should be freshly distilled each day. A simple substitute for a still
is a tea-kettle, with a close cover and a gutta-percha or lead pipe
fastened to the spout, leading through a pail of cold water into a jar
for holding the distilled water. The steam from the boiling water goes
off through the tube, condenses under the cold water, and runs off pure
into the receiver. Where houses are heated by steam, I am told, they
may be amply provided with distilled water by adding a pipe to one of
the tubular heaters, that will carry steam into a cooler, from which
pure water may run day and night.
Besides the distilled-water baths in a complete household, there should
be facilities for the vapor-bath at any time. This is invaluable in
colds, rheumatism, congestions, and neuralgia. The readiest substitute
is the rush-bottomed chair and lighted saucer of alcohol described in
a former chapter. A sulphur bath requires a shallow pan of coals with
a tin water-pan above it, and an elevated seat over the whole. Sulphur
is thrown on the coals, which mingles with the steam, and enters the
system by the pores, which are opened by the vapor. The patient,
brazier, and chair must be enveloped with a water-proof covering in the
closest manner, leaving only the head exposed, so that no sulphurous
vapor can possibly be breathed, as that would be suffocation at once.
In regular bathing establishments the patient sits in a wooden box,
having a cover and a water-proof collar which fits tight about the
neck, leaving the head out. This box is filled with steam by a pipe,
and the vapor impregnated with sulphur from a spoonful burning in one
corner of the box, or from a generator outside with connecting tube. It
is difficult, if not impossible, to administer a sulphur bath without
proper and special appliances.
The bran bath, recommended before, is taken with a peck of common bran,
such as is used to stuff pincushions, stirred into a tub of warm water.
The rubbing of the scaly particles of the bran cleanses the skin, while
the gluten in it softens and strengthens the tissues. Oatmeal is even
better, as it contains a small amount of oil that is good for the skin.
For susceptible persons, the tepid bran bath is better than a cold
shower-bath. The friction of the loose bran calls the circulation to
the surface. In France the bran is tied in a bag for the bath, but this
gives only the benefit of the gluten, not that of the irritation.
The frequency of the bath should be determined, after it has been taken
for a week or two, by feeling. Take the refreshment as often as the
system desires it. The harm is done not so much by bathing often as by
staying in the water long at a time. A hot soap-suds bath once a week
is beneficial to persons with moist and oily skins. Bay-rum and camphor
may be used to advantage by such persons each time after washing the
face. The hot suds bath should be taken thrice a week by those who wish
to remove moth patches.
One of the best ways to make the hands soft and white is to wear at
night large mittens of cloth filled with wet bran or oatmeal, and tied
closely at the wrist. A lady who had the finest, softest hands in the
county confessed that she had a great deal of house-work to do, but
kept them white by wearing bran mittens every night.
Pastes and poultices for the face owe most of their efficacy to the
moisture, which dissolves the old coarse skin, and the protection
they afford from the air, which allows the new skin to form tender
and delicate. Oat meal paste is efficacious as any thing, though
less agreeable than the pastes made with white of egg, alum, and
rose-water. The alum astringes the flesh, making it firm, while the egg
keeps it sufficiently soft, and the rose-water perfumes the mixture.
What are called indiscriminately moth, mask, morphew, and, by
physicians, hepatic spots, are the sign of deep-seated disease of the
liver. Taraxacum, the extract of dandelion root, is the standing remedy
for this, and the usual prescription is a large pill four nights in
a week, sometimes for months. To this may be added the free use of
tomatoes, figs, mustard-seed, and all seedy fruits and vegetables, with
light broiled meats, and no bread but that of coarse flour. Pastry,
puddings of most sorts, and fried food of all kinds must be dispensed
with by persons having a tendency to this disease. It may take six
weeks, or even months, to make any visible impression on either the
health or the moth patches, but success will come at last. One third
of a teaspoonful of chlorate of soda in a wine-glass of water, taken
in three doses, before meals, will aid the recovery by neutralizing
morbid matters in the stomach. There is no sure cosmetic that will
reach the moth patches. Such treatment as described, such exercise as
is tempting in itself, and gay society, will restore one to conditions
of health in which the extinction of these blotches is certain.