CHAPTERS TO INVALIDS.
CHAP. 1.--WHEN IS A CHANGE OF CLIMATE ADVISABLE?
In these days when the slow coach of our fathers has long been
discarded, and steam and lightning are our draught horses, the
advantages to health of a change of climate should be considered by
every one. It is an easy, a pleasant, and a sure remedy in many a
painful disorder. Need I fortify such an assertion by the dicta of high
authorities? One is enough. “It would be difficult,” says Sir James
Clark, M.D., whose name is familiar to every physician in connection
with this very question, “to point out the chronic complaint, or even
the disordered state of health which is not benefitted by a timely and
judicious change of climate.”
Let me run over this catalogue of maladies and specify some in which
“fresh fields and pastures new” are of especial value. All anticipate
the first I mention--pulmonary consumption,--that dreaded scourge which
year by year destroys more than did the cholera in its most fatal
epidemics. Even those who lay no claim to medical knowledge are well
aware how often the consumptive prolongs and saves his life by a timely
change of air; they are not aware--few doctors with their diplomas are
aware--how much oftener this fortunate result would be obtained were the
change made with judgment, and the invalid to lend his own energies in
this battle for life which his constitution is waging against disease.
How to make this change with judgment, and how to employ these energies,
these chapters are intended to inform him.
The watchword of the battle is: _Courage_. It is, indeed, not rare to
see those who should have been left at home to die surrounded by home
comforts, exiled by their wearied physician, or dragged by the ignorant
solicitude of friends, late in their disease, to some strange land,
there to meet their inevitable fate, deprived of the little luxuries so
useful to them, served by unsympathizing strangers, far from the old,
familiar faces. There are others who go early enough, and are earnest in
their efforts to husband their flagging powers. But they have chosen a
climate ill-adapted to the form of their complaint, they know not the
precautions they should take, they have omitted provisions of essential
value, in fine, they “die of medicable wounds.”
These examples should not discourage others. The medical science of
to-day gives its strongest endorsement to this maxim: _Consumption is
cureable_, IF TAKEN IN ITS EARLY STAGES. And in its cure, change of
climate is an essential element. Nor does science hesitate to go
farther. Even when the lungs are decidedly affected, even when the
practised ear of the physician detects that ominous gurgling sound in
the chest which reveals the presence of a cavity in the lungs, it still
says _Hope_. We know that even then there is a good chance for life in
many cases. Often the disease has invaded but a very circumscribed
portion of lung and all the remainder is healthy; sometimes having gone
thus far it seems to have spent its malignant powers, and rests for
years, or disappears altogether; often under the genial influence of
appropriate climate and regimen, the ulcer heals and health is restored.
Bronchitis is another complaint which calls for change of air. There are
persons who contract a cough regularly at the beginning of every winter,
which disappears only with the warm spring days. They hawk, and
expectorate, and have pains in the breast, and a sore and tickling
throat all the cold months. This is bronchitis, chronic bronchitis.
Clergymen are very liable to it from neglect of precautions in using the
voice. It is quite common among elderly people, and often paves the way
for their final illness. In young persons it portends consumption.
Nothing so effectually dispels it as a winter in a warm climate. I speak
now from my own experience.
There is a disease not less common, hardly less formidable, often more
distressing, more repulsive, than consumption. It is scrofula--that
taint in the blood by which the sins of the fathers are visited upon the
children unto and beyond the third and fourth generation. It often
throws around its victims the charms of a strange beauty and a
precocious, _spiritual_, intelligence. But the wise physician regards
with anxious forbodings these signs so prized by loving friends. Here,
too, a total change of air, diet, surroundings, is urgently, often
imperatively, demanded.
One of the banes of our raw, damp atmosphere is rheumatism. It is
painful, it is common, it is dangerous. In recent years we have learned
that a fatal complication is alarmingly frequent in this
complaint--organic disease of the heart. In examining for life
insurance, we enquire particularly if the candidate is rheumatic. If the
answer is affirmative, three times out of four we detect some unnatural
action in this great centre of life. Now, it is well known how
beneficially a warm, equable climate acts on sufferers with this malady.
Let them, therefore, be warned in time to seek this means of prolonging
life.
There is a complaint which makes us a burden to ourselves, and too often
a nuisance to our companions. It is not dangerous, but is most trying. I
mean dyspepsia, a hydra-headed disease, wearing alike to mind and body.
The habits of our countrymen and countrywomen predispose them to it. In
our great cities it is exceedingly prevalent. It, too, is always
relieved, often completely cured by traveling--and often nothing but
this will cure it.
The same may be said of those states of nervous and mental exhaustion,
consequent on the harrassing strain of our American life, our
over-active, excitable, national temperament. This exhaustion shows
itself in the faltering step, the care-worn expression, the disturbed
nutrition, in palpitation, in irritability, in causeless anxiety, and a
legion of similar symptoms. Doctors call it _paresis_, and say that it
is a new disease, a visitation of nature upon us for our artificial,
unquiet lives.
There is an era in life when no actual disease is present, when the body
visibly yields to the slow and certain advance of age. The mind, too,
sympathises, and loses the keenness of its faculties. With most, this
is about the age of sixty. It has long been noticed how fatal this
period is. It is known as “the grand climacteric” in works on life. It
has also been noticed that it is the winter months especially that are
dangerous to persons at this age. The old Romans had this pregnant
expression: “_inimicior senibus hyems_,”--winter, the foe of the aged.
Modern research proves its correctness. An English physician, Dr. Day,
calculating from nearly 55,000 cases over sixty years of age, discovered
the startling fact that the deaths in January were within a small
fraction _twice as many_ as in July! Such an unexpected statement
reminds us of that significant expression of another distinguished
statistician who had studied closely the relation of mortality and
temperature: “Waves of heat are waves of life; and waves of cold are
waves of death.” With these, and a hundred similar warnings before us,
we are safe in saying that in many cases entire relaxation from business
and two or three winters in a warm climate about the age of sixty, will
add ten years to life.
I now approach a delicate topic. A warm climate promises aid where
medicines are utterly ineffectual. I mean in marriages not blessed by
offspring. Most readers know how early females are married in the
tropics. Mothers of fourteen and sixteen years are not uncommon. Heat
stimulates powerfully the faculty of reproduction. The wives of the
French colonists in Algiers are notably more fertile than when in their
Northern homes. So we can with every reason recommend to childless
couples, without definite cause of sterility, a winter in the south. I
have known most happy effects from it.
CHAP. II.--WHAT CLIMATE SHALL BE CHOSEN?
This is a question of vital importance. An error here is fatal. Every
person, every case of the same disease, is not at all suited by the same
climate. Many an invalid who would survive for years, if he passed his
winters in Florida, is sent to die in the cold, dry air of Minnesota;
some who would find health at St. Paul, choose to perish at St.
Augustine; there are some whose safety lies in the mountains, others who
can find it nowhere but on the sea shore.
Neither patients nor physicians fully appreciate the extreme importance
of deciding correctly here, and abiding by the decision. The invalid is
apt to go where it is most convenient, or most agreeable for him to go.
He goes where he has friends. He goes at his peril.
I have in mind the case of a young priest, the only child of his
parents, loved by them as an only child is loved by the warm Irish
heart. Before leaving the seminary, unmistakeable signs of consumption
showed themselves. By assiduous care, he passed the winter comfortably,
and as spring approached, his disease was checked. Every symptom abated.
He gained in weight and strength. The cough nearly disappeared; the
night sweats left him; his appetite returned. When summer opened, I said
to him: “Go to the mountains. Complete restoration awaits you there.
Avoid the sea shore. It is death to you.” I heard nothing more from him
for two months. Then I was summoned in haste I found him with an
irritative fever, with daily chills, with a distressing cough. He had
been to the mountains for several weeks, and had improved so rapidly
that he thought himself well, and concluded to join some friends on the
Atlantic shore. He did so, and the result was before me. I then had the
most painful duty of a physician’s life to perform,--that of informing a
mother that her only child is beyond human aid.
And here I must say, with all deference to the faculty, that the
ignorance and carelessness of physicians in reference to this matter of
climate are at most reprehensible. Few of them make any distinction in
cases. They send all consumptives to Minnesota, or to Texas, or to
Florida, or to Cuba, as if in every instance what is sauce for goose is
also sauce for gander. Thus it happens that the most eligible climates
gain a bad reputation. They suit many, perhaps most, but they do not
suit _all_. Go to Nice, Naples, the Isle of Pines, you will find
invalids who unquestionably, were they at home, would be in a better
place. This is chiefly the fault of their physicians. When a doctor
recommends a climate, and yet is unable to tell you its temperature, its
moisture, its prevailing winds, its seasons, its local diseases, its
articles of food, its water, its mineral springs, its accommodations for
travellers--beware of him. He is a dangerous counsellor. These facts the
physician _must_ know to advise wisely.
There are others which he must learn from the invalid himself.
Constitutions are differently affected by climate, and so are cases of
the same disease. Some climates are sedative and relaxing, others tonic
and bracing; some are moist and soothing, others dry and steeling. Some
constitutions are nervous and irritable, others torpid and sluggish;
some have plenty of latent force which needs use, in others the vital
powers are naturally weak, and must be carefully husbanded. In some
cases, the symptoms are of an inflammatory, in others of an atonic
character; in some, the secretions are scanty, in others profuse; in
some, considerations of diet are of great importance, in others they do
not enter; in some, the cough is importunate, in others, hardly
annoying--and a hundred other differences might be added. The question
is a complicated one. It asks for its solution the utmost care of the
physician. It almost demands the trained skill of the specialist.
I repeat, therefore, that no climate can be recommended indiscriminately
to all; that the climate must be selected by an intelligent physician
who has carefully studied the case; that the locality which brings life
to one, brings death to another; and, therefore, that having decided on
a change of climate, it is of vital importance to select the right one.
The decision between a warm and a cold climate must be made somehow
thus: If you have usually borne cold well, if you have not been subject
to cold feet and hands, and disagreeable chilliness; if you are
accustomed to out-door exercise in winter; if you are not subject to
catarrhs, pneumonia, pleurisy, coughs, irritation of the pharynx; if you
are not plethoric; if you are free from rheumatic, neuralgic or gouty
pains which become worse as winter approaches; if your throat is anæmic
rather than congestive, and your liver torpid; if your health is not
already too much reduced to stand the icy winds of the north; if you
prefer winter to summer, and the cold to the hot months; if heat
oppresses you and enervates you;--then if you want to change your
climate, go to Minnesota, to Labrador, or the Canadian highlands. But
no, this is not all. Have you a fancy for any particular spot among
those famous for salubrity? Is there a pastime or pursuit to which you
are addicted? Do you love to boat, fish, hunt, ride, camp out, botanize,
photograph? Indulge your taste. Such considerations have quite as much
weight as many a medical reason. Then there is the question of money. If
you carry the cares of business with you; if you have to pinch and spare
on your journey; if you are worried about your expenses, the trip will
do you little good, I have tried to give accurate accounts of the cost
of living in the South, so that a traveler may know what to expect
there.
All these matters have to be weighed, and from them a conclusion reached
as to what climate is best. It is a complicated question, and it is not
enough that the doctor make his diagnosis and then oracularly pronounces
the name of some locality as that best suited for your disease. It is
easy for him, but it may turn out hard for you.
CHAP. III--WHERE IS THE BEST SOUTHERN WINTER CLIMATE?
In studying this question of climate, more particularly with reference
to those who suffer from diseases of the throat and lungs, I have taken
some pains to satisfy myself whereabout in the South those of them whom
a Southern climate suits will find the most eligible climatic conditions
in winter. I shall give the result of my studies, though for reasons
which will soon appear, it is of no great use just now. I build for the
future.
The model climate for such invalids must satisfy four conditions. It
must have an equable temperature, moderate moisture, moderate and
regular winds, and freedom from local disease.
First about temperature. Here the mere amount of heat or cold is not so
much to be looked at, as what meteorologists call the _range_. The
thermometer should show no great difference in the day and the night, or
between one day and another. Sudden changes should not appear on the
record. Warmth is desirable because it leads to a life in the open air,
prevents chilly and close rooms, and soothes the irritable air passages.
Heat above seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit is objectionable, because it
is debilitating, and hinders exercise.
In the United States, Key West has the warmest climate and the least
range. Its mean annual temperature is 76°.5; its range 52° Fahrenheit.
This is rather too hot. Nor is it free from some other objections. The
island is small, barren, and uninteresting; there are no rides and
drives, and violent winds from the north and northeast occur more or
less every winter.
Many have lauded the climate of Texas. It is true that the hottest
portions of that State have a mean annual temperature of 73°. But then
the winters there are as cold as in Southern Georgia, and the range is
nowhere less than 70°, and generally 80° to 90°. Then there are the
“northers,” chilling winds from the north, which reduce the temperature
10° to 20° in a few hours. In fine, the climate is much less equable
than on the south Atlantic coast. The winter temperature of most of
Texas is as low as that of South Carolina.
This is too low. The mean temperature of Charleston, S. C., is 66°, the
range nearly 95°. At Savannah the temperature of the year is 65°, the
range about 90°. The summers at these points are hot, the winter months
often cold, damp, and raw. It is precisely these months, and these only,
which interest us just now. To present the matter more fully I extract
the following table from the Medical statistics of the U. S. Army. It is
based on careful observations extending over many years, and shows the
temperature of each of the winter months in a number of places in the
South:
----------------+-----------+----------+-----------
Locality. | December. | January. | February.
----------------+-----------+----------+-----------
Aiken, S. C., | 47° | 45° | 50°
Charleston, | 52 | 51 | 52
Savannah, | 53 | 52 | 55
Tallahassee, | 55 | 55 | 60
Mobile, | 52 | 55 | 50
Pensacola, | 56 | 54 | 56
St. Augustine, | 57 | 57 | 60
New Smyrna, | 63 | 62 | 64
Cedar Keys, | 62 | 58 | 58
Tampa Bay, | 61 | 61 | 63
Ocala, | 63 | 58 | 58
Miami River, | 67 | 66 | 67
Key West, | 70 | 69 | 70
Corpus Christi, | 57 | 56 | 57
----------------+-----------+----------+-----------
Corpus Christi is the hottest place in Texas; yet its winters are colder
than on the eastern coast of Florida, and its annual range is 70
degrees. The highest winter temperature observed anywhere on the
mainland of the United States was at Fort Dallas on the Miami river, and
at New Smyrna, some miles north of it, both on the east coast of
Florida. Furthermore, their range is less than anywhere else. During
four years that the army officers watched the thermometer at Fort
Dallas, the highest point reached by the mercury was 95 degrees; the
lowest 35 degrees; a range, therefore, of 60 degrees in four years.
I conclude therefore that the most equable climate of the United States
is on the south-eastern coast of Florida.
I shall dismiss the second condition in a few words. Moist warmth is
soothing; dryness is irritating; every one who has worn a poultice knows
this. A moist, warm air, moderately charged with vapor, or even
approaching a saturated condition, is therefore, as a rule, most
agreeable to the air passages, and the general comfort. In winter, all
along our southern seaboard the air is moist; it is sufficiently warm
and moist both, nowhere but in southeastern Florida, as the table of
winter temperatures shows us.
A moist atmosphere is not always a rainy one. A rainy climate, no matter
what other conditions it may have, is a detestable one. Southern Florida
has a hot and rainy season from May to September. Everything moulds, and
drips, and steams. The rainfall averages every year from forty-five to
sixty inches. But nearly all of it falls in the summer months. In
December, January and February, two, two and a half, and three inches a
month are an ordinary average. This means that the weather is much more
generally fair than foul.
The third condition is the prevalence of moderate and regular winds. I
have already hinted about the Texan “northers.” Similar windstorms occur
throughout the Gulf States. I have felt them disagreeably at Key West,
though there the tepid waters of the Gulf of Mexico temper their blasts.
Sometimes they blow violently for thirty-six or forty-eight hours. On
the southeastern coast of Florida they are both warmed by the Gulf, and
lessened in violence by the woods of the peninsula. The winds there are
in winter usually north, northeast, and northwest. In summer a breeze
from the sea sets in about ten A. M., which often reduces the
temperature about six degrees in ten minutes, without causing other than
a pleasant sensation. At night a land breeze blows off the land.
The occasional cold winds in winter are an objection from which no part
of our southern country is wholly free. Moderate winds are essential to
the purity of the atmosphere, and these generally prevail along the
Gulf.
The fourth condition of climate is a vital one. I have witnessed the
results of months of care destroyed by a single attack of intermittent
fever. I have already stated that miasmatic fevers are extremely common
in the interior of Florida during the summer and early autumn, but they
do not occur on the sea coast during the late autumn and winter.
This is especially true of southeastern Florida. Portions of our army
were stationed there during all seasons, for a number of years, and the
testimony of the army surgeons is unanimous and most favorable. And let
me here remind the reader that the surgeons of the United States Army
are thoroughly educated physicians, of unequaled experience in all the
variety of climate which our country presents, and who, having no
quarter sections to sell, or other axe to grind, give their evidence
with the utmost impartiality. Here is one quotation from a report to the
Surgeon General, dated at Fort Pierce, on Indian river: “This post has a
climate, in every respect, perhaps, unsurpassed by any in the world.”
And these are the words of Dr. R. F. Simpson, U. S. A., writing about
Fort Dallas, on the Miami, the very spot I have been maintaining
approaches nearest the model climate for consumptives: “I have been on
duty at most of the posts in Florida, but _none compare_ with this for
salubrity.”
The sea coast of south-east Florida, therefore, fulfils the four
conditions which make up the best climate for a consumptive. I have
other testimony about it well worth presenting. It, too, comes from the
same unimpeachable source,--the medical statistics of the United States
Army. I preface it by a fact of general interest about the whole of
Florida. All know how terribly arduous must be campaigning through the
swamps and everglades of that State. Yet the yearly mortality from
disease of the regular army there, was only twenty-six per thousand men.
The average of the army elsewhere was thirty-five per thousand, while in
Texas it rose to forty, and on the lower Mississippi to forty-four per
thousand.
But the character of disease interests us most just now. We are
inquiring particularly about throat and lung complaints. These army
statistics are here of immense value. They specify the diseases of each
station. I have taken these four: Consumption (phthisis pulmonalis),
bronchitis, inflammation of the lungs (pneumonia), and pleurisy; and
have ascertained their relative frequency at various points in the
South. Here are the results (omitting fractions): In Arkanzas, each
year, one man in every sixteen came under the surgeon’s hands, with one
or other of these diseases; on the southern frontier of Texas, also one
in sixteen; at Baton Rouge, La., one in seventeen; on the western
frontier of Texas, one in nineteen; on the west coast of Florida, one in
twenty-one; on the east coast of Florida, _one in thirty-nine_!
This is confirmation strong indeed. Even in the favored northwest, we
may look in vain for anything equal to it. The sick reports of St. Paul,
Minn., show one in every nineteen, yearly treated for these complaints.
Yet all this avails nothing, so long as there are no accommodations for
invalids, in this favored region, none of the conveniences of civilized
life, few inhabitants of any kind, hardly any means of getting there.
There are bluffs forty feet high and more, on Indian river, beautiful
localities along Key Biscayne Bay, in a glorious climate, healthy beyond
any in our country, very easy of access from Key West, near the best
hunting grounds of Florida, where an abundance of the most delicious
tropical fruits could be raised, where fish, sea turtles and oysters
abound; all that is needed is a weekly steamer from Key West, and a few
plain, well kept, moderate priced hotels, to make it the most eligible
spot in the South for the invalid or the tourist.
It has other attractions. I have been told that it is the only part of
Florida where the pine apple will grow in the open air. Certainly
guavas, pomegranates, dates, alligator pears, (that fruit which it is
worth a voyage to the tropics to taste,) sugar apples and most of the
other appetizing luxuries of the torrid zone would flourish.
The climate in winter is serene, from two-and-a-half to three inches of
rain falling per month. The mean daily marking of the thermometer from
November to April is 72°, of the hygrometer 68°. Here is another hint.
The arrow root (_maranta arundinacea_) grows along Key Biscayne in great
abundance. It furnishes the very finest form of starch known, a most
admirable article of diet for the sick, and a most profitable one to the
cultivator. Its wholesale price in our markets is from fifty to
seventy-five cents per pound; there is always a demand for it, and tens
of thousands of pounds a year could be readily gathered.
I have already detailed at some length the position, soil, etc., of Key
Biscayne Bay (ante p. 102). But, as already said, I build for the
future, and not the present. It has the best warm climate in the United
States for invalids, and it deserves to become a much frequented spot.
CHAP. IV.--SOME HINTS TO HEALTH SEEKERS.
In the introductory remarks I have thrown out a number of suggestions
which every traveler in the South will do well to heed. I am now going
to _servir un plat de mon metier_--to offer some admonitions to invalids
distinctively, and especially those suffering or threatened with
pulmonary and bronchial affections. How often does one see invalids
abroad deluding themselves with the idea that the climate alone will
cure them! Vain hope. Better remain at home and die, if need be, than
undertake long and fatiguing journeys with any such expectation. The
result in either case is the same.
There are certain rules of personal hygiene and diet which are half the
battle, which might win it at home, which will almost surely win it if
the right change of climate is made in time. They are not applicable to
all, but they must form the basis of every regimen.
And here, once more, I repeat the watchword, _Courage_. If improvement
is not manifest at once, do not become disheartened. Often it is months,
often it is not until after the return home that the hoped for change
for the better is obvious. The interim is at best wearisome. Make it as
cheerful as possible. Valetudinarians should not travel alone. They fall
easy victims to Giant Despair, who is still as ready as ever to pounce
on unwary travelers, especially on wet days, alone in dull country
taverns, with nothing to think of but themselves and their own aches and
pains. Go in company and always have a resource for spare hours.
No resource is better than to collect something. There are bugs, and
butterflies, and mosses, and fossils, and flowers, and Indian
curiosities, and species of woods, and birds’ eggs, and skins, and
minerals, the pursuit of either one of which will give healthful
exercise in fair weather, and their arrangement interesting occupation
when it rains.
I am almost pleased, for the invalid’s sake, to say that as for
treasures of art, Florida has none. There are no interminable picture
galleries, or cold, damp churches, or belvideres, or other such æsthetic
afflictions to visit, the frequency of which in Italy is a serious
drawback to the seeker after health. On the other hand, Nature has
spread out boundless attractions in the animal, the vegetable, and the
mineral worlds, the study of which has ever something soothing and
rejuvenating.
Exercise in the open air every day should be taken religiously and
regularly. The kind of exercise must depend on circumstances. Rowing
develops the chest and arms; walking, the lower limbs; riding is an
excellent stimulant of the liver and lungs. When possible, they should
be alternated. An hour each morning and afternoon should be consecrated
to this purpose. A cheerful companion is an admirable adjunct in any of
them.
There is another exercise of the greatest value. No person with a weak
chest should neglect to practice every morning and evening, for ten or
fifteen minutes at a time, _deep inspirations_. It is done thus: Stand
or sit erect, throw the chest well forward, the arms back, then open the
mouth and inhale slowly to the full capacity of the lungs. Retain the
air several seconds _by an increased effort_, and then let it gradually
escape. Breathe naturally a few times, then repeat the inspiration. This
simple procedure has a wonderful influence. It increases the breathing
power of the lungs, it expands the walls of the chest, in the opinion of
some learned physicians, Professor Piorry of Paris for example, it is
actually curative where tuberculous deposit has already taken place. But
whenever else exercise is taken, it is best not to be before breakfast.
Another salutary habit is to bathe the whole body every morning with
salt and water of the temperature of the room. There is no real
difficulty in this, even when traveling. A sponge or a wash towel, and a
coarse dry towel for the skin, are all that is required. A plunge bath
is as good, but not so convenient. When neither can be taken, the whole
person should receive a thorough dry-rubbing. But the salt water bath is
most useful to the invalid.
It would give me great pleasure to discuss at length the subject of
_food_. But in fact tourists in most parts of the South must make up
their minds to such fare as they can get, not such as they want. For
instance, I place in the first line of the bill of fare for consumptives
the article _milk_, fresh rich milk, five or six tumblers of it a day,
dashed now and then, if you please, with a trifle of good old cognac or
Jamaica spirits. Now milk is precisely the scarcest article at a Florida
hotel in winter.
I lived once for a month on a plantation in the extreme south of the
peninsula. The proprietor had two hundred head of cattle--many of the
cows with calves--yet we actually did not have milk enough for our
coffee.
In the next line of my bill of fare I place EGGS; three or four a day,
boiled soft, or taken in the guise of a “flip,” with pale sherry. These,
too, are not always, nor often, to be had for the asking in this
country, where nature has done so much for the invalid and man so
little. Fat meat comes next, or, in its place, butter and olive oil may
be freely used. Coffee and chocolate are allowable; tea barely
permissible. Tobacco, even the tasteless, “washed,” Florida tobacco,
absolutely prohibited in every form. Some pure rye or wheat whisky may
be taken, well diluted, three times a day, if it causes no unpleasant
sensations, but all excess should be shunned. And, here, I advise those
who wish pure liquors not to depend on hotel bars, restaurants, or
provincial drug stores, but to provide them before leaving home.
Whatever food is taken, should be taken as nearly as possible at
regular hours, in moderate quantities, and more frequently than in
health. Those who are weak, will find great comfort in having a cup of
broth, a glass of milk punch, or some similar food, placed by their bed
on retiring, to take during the night. Late suppers, however, should be
avoided.
In choosing a residence, see that it is at a distance from stagnant
water, not very densely shaded, and not exposed to night fogs. The
sleeping room should be on an upper floor, with a southerly or westerly
exposure, and with plenty of air, light, and sunshine. The bed should
not be in a draft, nor in a recess, nor against the wall. A spring or
hair mattress, (cotton, so much used in the South, is not
objectionable), is most healthful, and it is of prime importance to
those with weak lungs, not to sleep under many covers. The windows may
be left open nightly, if the situation is dry.
The question is often asked about exposure to night air. Our
distinguished literateur, N. P. Willis, long a sufferer with pulmonary
disease, used to maintain that the atmosphere at night was quite as
healthful as by day. The nightfall, when at dusk the temperature rapidly
lowers, he found most hurtful. The air at night is, as a rule, colder
than during the day, and is often saturated with moisture. Certainly,
therefore, those who think with Mr. Willis, will do well to protect
themselves by extra clothing. The safest plan is to avoid exposure,
except on unusually clear, mild, and dry evenings.
The final suggestions I have to make are about medicines. I put them
last, because they are, in a certain sense, of secondary importance.
Many a patient destroys his digestive powers, and deteriorates his
blood by pouring down “stomach bitters,” “cough syrups,” “purging
pills,” and even the more appropriate prescriptions of his physician.
Cod-liver oil and iron, with perhaps a little syrup of wild cherry at
night to allay the cough, are the only drugs of much avail in
consumption, and the less one exclusively trusts to these for
recovering, the better.
Quinine, prepared in three-grain pills, should be carried. One pill
before breakfast should be taken whenever one is exposed to the marsh
miasms. I have already suggested a tincture of the peel of the
bitter-sweet orange in whiskey, for the same purpose.
Many persons, in traveling, become constipated. This is best avoided by
diet. The favorite Southern breakfast dish, “corn grits,” is an
admirable laxative. Corn bread with molasses, fruit early in the day, or
a glass of saline mineral water where it can be had, will generally be
sufficient. If these fail, one of the ordinary compound cathartic pills
can be taken before sleep, or one of the following before a meal:
℞. Pulverized rhubarb, 36 grains.
Soap, q. s. Make 12 pills.
A bottle of mild solution of ammonia is useful for application to
musquito bites and the stings of insects.
Restlessness at night in strange beds and new surroundings, is quite
common. A bath before retiring, or a glass of _hot_ (not warm) water
will quiet this nervous excitement. Granules of morphia, ¼ of a grain
each, should be carried, but used very sparingly, and only to relieve
pain.
The first effect of a warm climate on many constitutions, is to bring
on a “bilious” attack. Headache, sick stomach, slight fever and
diarrhœa for a few days are the unpleasant symptoms of this first
brush of acclimation. It can best be avoided by a sparing diet, by
avoiding fatigue, the rays of the sun, and indulgence in fruit. The
treatment is perfect rest, some citrate of magnesia or other cooling
laxative, and low diet.
Those who go by sea save themselves many annoyances, but in return run
the risk of sea-sickness. To avoid this, they should go aboard after a
moderate meal, keep on deck whenever the sea is smooth, remain in their
births when it is rough, take a little brandy, or, what is better, a
glass of champagne, when the nausea comes on, and wear a silk
handkerchief or broad girdle tied tightly around the stomach.
By the careful observance of such rules as I have here laid down, and
such others as everyone’s good sense will suggest without prompting,
those in failing health can anticipate the best results from a winter in
the South. The fears which some entertain from the unpleasant feeling
toward Northerners, supposed to exist, are entirely groundless. I have
the best reason to know that there need not be the slightest anxiety on
this score.
So, also, about the alleged dangers of travel over Southern railroads
and in Southern steamboats. In point of fact more people are injured on
the railroads of New York than of Florida. Moreover it is quite sure, as
Thoreau quaintly says in one of his books, “We sit as many risks as we
run,” and it is about as safe now-a-days on a railroad or in a steamboat
as at one’s own fireside. Such fears need not give a moment’s
uneasiness.
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
Jacksonville to Tallahasse=> Jacksonville to Tallahassee {pg v}
Neverthless, two years afterwards=> Nevertheless, two years afterwards
{pg 27}
the northen counties=> the northern counties {pg 43}
Newpapers=> Newspapers {pg 57}
undergrowth of palmetto give same=> undergrowth of palmetto gives same
{pg 58}
associated with the atroicities=> associated with the atrocities {pg 59}
can accomodate comfortably=> can accommodate comfortably {pg 60}
the form of a trapezuim=> the form of a trapezium {pg 69}
give them a chancesto=> give them a chance to {pg 74}
the Kissimnee river=> the Kissimmee river {pg 77}
here for India river=> here for Indian river {pg 78}
the difficultyof access=> the difficulty of access {pg 79}
6.--JACKSONVILLE TO TALLAHASEE=> 6.--JACKSONVILLE TO TALLAHASSEE {pg 81}
carried from St. Augutine=> carried from St. Augustine {pg 80}
Talahassee Sentinel=> Tallahassee Sentinel {pg 84}
at eighty-eighty feet=> at eighty-eighty feet {pg 87}
Six miles beyond Lage Griffin=> Six miles beyond Lake Griffin {pg 92}
the name Oklawha=> the name Oklawaha {pg 92}
leaves Gainsville for Micanopy=> leaves Gainesville for Micanopy {pg 95}
touch at Ceder Keys=> touch at Cedar Keys {pg 96}
such insignificant altitutde=> such insignificant altitude {pg 98}
of Hillsborouh river=> of Hillsborough river {pg 108}
near the the town=> near the town {pg 108}
more particuularly=> more particularly {pg 123}
guavas, pomegrantes=> guavas, pomegranates {pg 129}