THE INDIAN AND SLEEPING OUT OF DOORS
[Illustration: TERRACED HOUSES OF THE HOPIS, ALLOWING SLEEPING OUT OF
DOORS.]
As I have already intimated, the Indian is practically an out-of-door
sleeper. I say “practically,” for there are exceptions to the general
rule. The Hopis of northern Arizona have houses. In the cold winter
months they sleep indoors whenever they can. The Navahos, Apaches,
Havasupais, and other tribes have their “hogans” and “hawas” in which
they sleep in the very cold weather. But in the summer the invariable
rule is for all to sleep out of doors. And even in the winter, if duty
calls them away from home and they have to camp out, they sleep in the
cold, on the snow, in the rain, as unconcerned for their health as if
they were well protected indoors. It is this latter feature that so
much commends itself to me. It is just as _natural_ to them to have to
sleep out of doors as it is to sleep indoors. They think no more of
it, do not regard it as an unusual and dangerous experience, or one to
be dreaded. They accept it without a murmur or complaint, and without
fear. This is an attitude of mind that I would the white race would
learn from the Indian. I once had a friend, a city-bred man, born and
brought up in New York, sent west to me by his physician because he had
had two or three hemorrhages, whom I took out into Arizona. The first
night we had to sleep out was very cold, for it was early in the year,
and at that high altitude the thermometer sank very rapidly after the
sun went down. Yet I deliberately called camp by the side of a great
snowbank. The fearful invalid wanted to know what I was stopping there
for. I told him it was to afford him a good sleeping place on the snow.
He expressed his dread, and assured me that such an experience would
kill him at once. I told him that if it did I would see that he was
decently buried, but that did not seem to dissipate his fears. After a
good camp-fire was built, and he had had a warm and comforting supper,
and his blankets were stretched out on the snow, and he was undressed
and well wrapped up, with a hot rock at his feet and the cheery blaze
lighting up the scene, he felt less alarmed. I talked him to sleep, and
when he awoke in the morning it was to confess that his throat and
lungs felt more comfortable than they had done for many long months. A
month of this open-air sleeping gave him new ideas on the subject, and
sent him back east to fit up a camp in the Adirondacks, where he could
get a great deal of outdoor life, and sleeping with doors and windows
wide open.
[Illustration: BOSTON MILLIONAIRES SLEEPING OUT OF DOORS ON THE SANDS
OF THE COLORADO RIVER.]
The outdoor treatment for tuberculosis is now almost universal. Here is
what one eminent authority says on the subject:
“Tuberculosis is a direct result of over-work, either mental or
physical, and rest is largely its cure. This life in the open air is
best carried out in a sitting or semi-reclining posture. Every hour of
the day in all seasons of the year and in all kinds of weather should
thus be spent, together with sleeping in a tent, protected veranda, or
in a house with windows wide open. It will be found that the colder
the weather, the more marked and permanent the results. One does not
need to be uncomfortable; one can be well wrapped with heavy blankets.
It is the inhalation of cold air that is so effectual in stimulating
appetite, as a general tonic and fever reducer. A consumptive should
have for his motto: ‘Every hour in the closed house is an hour lost.’
There is no excuse for losing time.”
But it is not for those who are in ill health alone that I would
commend out-of-door sleeping. Those who are healthy need to be kept in
health, and there is a vim, a vigor, a physical joy, comes from this
habit that I would that every child, young man and woman, and adult in
the land might enjoy. Here is what one intelligent writer, Mary Heath,
has recently said upon this subject, and her words I most heartily
indorse:
“The success of any scheme for human betterment, morally, mentally,
or physically, depends upon securing human co-operation by convincing
the intellect of the truth or falsity of any widespread belief. The
almost universal notion that night air is dangerous has predisposed,
more than any other one cause, to the shutting of every door and window
at sunset to keep out malaria. Notwithstanding the fact that all air
analyses show that outdoor night air is much purer than day air, the
old fear of night air still remains, and is responsible for much
infection from foul air, because outdoor and indoor workers in summer
and winter--all alike--spend their sleeping hours in ill-ventilated
bedrooms. After false ideas about the harmfulness of fresh air are
eradicated, plans should be devised and utilized for arranging outdoor
sleeping apartments; plans should also be devised for keeping the body
warm in cold weather without an over-amount of bedclothing; and for
the health and convenience of the millions of middle class and more
or less humble domestic home workers, provisions should be made for
doing the housework as much as possible out of doors, away from the
kitchen heat and odors of cooking food. Out-of-door recreation for the
family should also be provided for. Could all sedentary workers spend
the seven to nine hours of sleep in a clean, outdoor atmosphere, many
of the evil effects of indoor sedentary work would be neutralized. The
shop, office, or factory employe, after sleeping in the pure night air,
would awake invigorated for the day’s demands and duties. Beginning the
day aright, with a keen normal appetite for healthful food, he would be
able to utilize his working energies without either structural damage
to the tissues, or intellectual or moral degradation.”
Elbert Hubbard, of Roycroft fame, has converted all the sleeping-rooms
of his phalanstery into outdoor rooms, where fresh, pure air is
breathed. Dr. Kellogg, editor of _Good Health_, sleeps out of doors all
the time, and all his large family of adopted children have rooms which
practically contain no doors or windows, so that they sleep as near the
open air as civilization will allow.
For years, as far as was possible, I have slept out of doors. When
at home my bed is on an open porch, my face turned to the stars, the
waving of plum, peach, and fig trees making music while I sleep, the
beautiful lights of earliest dawn cheering my eyes before I arise,
and the twittering and singing of the birds putting melodies into my
soul as I dress. When I am in the wilds exploring, I sleep out of doors
always, when and where I can. Those who have read my various books know
of my experiences of sleeping in storms, during heavy rains, without
bedding in rocky washes, in leaky boats and the rain pouring upon
us, in the heat of the desert, and the cold of the snowy plateaus of
Arizona. Yet I do not remember that I ever once “took cold,” though I
have been wet through many a night. On the other hand, I never visit
civilization, especially the proud, haughty, conceited civilization of
the East, where houses are steam-heated, and street and railway cars
are superheated, without taking severe colds and suffering much misery.
Those who have heard Nansen and Peary and other arctic explorers
will remember that they had the same experience. Is it not apparent,
therefore, that the outdoor life is the normal, the healthful, the
rational, the _natural_ life, while that of the steam-heated house is
abnormal, unhealthful, irrational, and unnatural?
People often say: But I see that my house is well ventilated, and
therefore the air is as pure and good as it is out of doors. In reply,
permit me to say that no house can ever be well ventilated. Air to be
pure and wholesome must be _alive_. It can only live when free and
uncontained, and in contact with the direct rays of the sun during the
day. Every thoughtful person has noticed the great difference there is
between outdoor air and indoor air, on stepping from outside inside,
even through all the doors and windows of the room were wide open.
There is a vast difference between indoor and outdoor air, even under
the best of conditions; so get into the open all you can, day or
night, winter or summer, wet or dry.
One of the finest and strongest poems in the language is the following,
by Richard Burton:
GOD’S GIFT, THE AIR
Now, is there anything that freer seems
Than air, the fresh, the vital, that a man
Draws in with breathings bountiful, nor dreams
Of any better bliss, because he can
Make over all his blood thereby, and feel
Once more his youth return, his muscles steel,
And life grow buoyant, part of God’s good plan!
Oh, how on plain and mountain, and by streams
That shine along their path; o’er many a field
Proud with pied flowers, or where sunrise gleams
In spangled splendors, does the rich air yield
Its balsam; yea, how hunter, pioneer,
Lover, and bard have felt that heaven was near
Because the air their spirit touched and healed!
And yet--God of the open!--look and see
The millions of thy creatures pent within
Close places that are foul for one clean breath,
Thrilling with health, and hope, and purity;
Nature’s vast antidote for stain and sin,
Life’s sweetest medicine this side of death!
How comes it that this largess of the sky
Thy children lack of, till they droop and die?
Many white people go out tenting in the summer and think they are
sleeping out of doors. What a foolish error. Here is what a scientific
authority says upon the subject:
“Are you tenting? If so, you should know:
“That a well-closed tent is nearly air-tight, and consequently,--
“That in an ordinary-sized tent, one occupant will so pollute the
air as to render it unfit to breathe in less than twenty minutes; two
occupants, in less than ten minutes.
[Illustration: A CHEMEHUEVI INDIAN AND HIS OUT-OF-DOOR SHELTER FROM THE
SUN.]
“That if you are tenting for your health, an opening at each end of the
tent must be provided for ventilation at night. The openings should be
at least a foot square for each occupant.
“Breathing impure air lowers the vitality, and consequently renders one
susceptible to colds and other diseased conditions.”
[Illustration: CLIMBING ONE OF THE TRAILS IN HAVASU CANYON, ARIZONA.]