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The Art of Living in Australia by Philip E. Muskett (?-1909)
Together with three hundred Australian cookery recipes and accessory kitchen information by Mrs. H. Wicken, Lecturer on cookery to the Technical College, Sydney.
DEDICATION
AUSTRALIA—ONE AND UNITED. AS AN AUSTRALIAN I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME TO THE PEOPLE OF AUSTRALIA WITH ONE ABIDING HOPE FOR THE DEVELOPMENT OF ALL THE: GREAT NATURAL FOOD INDUSTRIES OF OUR COUNTRY.
PREFACE.
Although this work fully deals with all the many matters connected with the art of living in Australia, its principal object is the attempt to bring about some improvement in the extraordinary food-habits at present in vogue. For years past the fact that our people live in direct opposition to their semi-tropical environment has been constantly before me. As it will be found in the opening portion of the chapter on School Cookery, the consumption of butcher's meat and of tea is enormously in excess of any common sense requirements, and is paralleled nowhere else in the world. On the other hand, there has been no real attempt to develop our deep-sea fisheries; market gardening is deplorably neglected, only a few of the more ordinary varieties being cultivated; salads, which are easily within the daily reach of every home, are conspicuous by their absence; and Australian wine, which should be the national beverage of every-day life, is at table—almost a curiosity.
Nearly three years have been occupied in the preparation of this volume, as several of the subjects it treats of have hitherto remained practically unexplored. This statement is not intended to excuse any shortcomings, but simply to explain the impediments which had to be overcome. There has been some little difficulty, therefore, in obtaining information in many instances. At the same time, it must be cheerfully recorded that assistance was freely forthcoming on the part of those from whom it was sought. Quite a number have been interviewed on the topics with which they were familiar; and on several occasions this has necessitated journeys out of Sydney on the writer's part. With the object of making inquiries into the fish supply of Melbourne, also, a special visit was paid to that city. And further, in order to gain an insight into vineyard work and cellar management, an instructive time was passed at Dr. T. Fiaschi's magnificent Tizzana vineyard on the Hawkesbury River.
It may seem to savour somewhat of boldness, yet I hazard the opinion that the real development of Australia will never actually begin till this wilful violation of her people's food-life ceases. For let us suppose that the semi-tropical character of our Australian life was duly appreciated by one and all. If such were the case—and I would it were so—there would be a wonderful change from the present state of affairs. But as it is, the manners and customs of the Australians are a perpetual challenge to the range of temperature in which they live. Indeed, the form of food they indulge in proves incontestably that they have never yet realized their semi-tropical environment. With a proper recognition of existing climatic surroundings there would be an overwhelming demand for more fish food; for something better than the present Liliputian supply; and for the creation of extensive deep-sea fisheries. Fish in Australia is nothing more than a high-priced luxury, although projects for the development of the deep-sea fisheries have been repeatedly suggested. Somehow or other we never get beyond this stage, and as a consequence the yield from our fisheries is simply pitiable. A widespread use of fish and an adequate fish supply would give employment to hundreds and to thousands. As I have pointed out in the chapter relating to this subject, the want of enterprise shown in starting our deep-sea fisheries is an inexplicable anomaly. If the Australian people had sprung from an inland race, this would not, perhaps, have been so difficult to understand. But coming, as we do, from a stock the most maritime the world has ever seen, such a defect is not to our credit as inheritors of the old traditions.
Nor can it be pretended that market gardening has ever been taken up seriously, if we apply the statement to Australia as a whole. It is true that Sydney and Melbourne, and possibly Adelaide and Brisbane, have made an attempt in this direction. But even with this admission there is not much reason for congratulation from an olitory point of view. Few—only very few—of the more commonly known varieties are grown. For if the potato and the cabbage were taken away, Australia would be almost bereft of vegetables. There are, however, many others, which are delicious and wholesome, which are easily grown, and which would make a pleasing addition to the present monotonously restricted choice. And there is something even more than all this. It is, that market gardening is a healthy and profitable calling; that it settles the people on the land; and that it creates a class of small landed proprietors—the very bone and sinew of any population.
In the chapter relating to Australian Food Habits it will be found that many of these desirable vegetables are enumerated. Their good qualities are highly appreciated on the Continent and elsewhere, and there is no earthly reason why they should not be grown here. The history of the introduction of the tomato into Australia is instructive in this connection. For years and years it struggled desperately, but unsuccessfully, for a place, and the attempt to bring it into use was on the point of being abandoned in consequence. But at last its undeniable merits were acknowledged, and to-day it is in universal request. Now, it is perfectly safe to assume that the same recognition would be awarded to many other vegetables vegetables at present practically unknown in Australia. For instance, sweet corn—which, however, must not be confused with Indian corn—is of exquisite flavour, almost melting in the mouth, while it possesses also eminently nourishing properties. It is a great favourite with Americans, and hundreds of acres are required annually for the New York markets alone.
But if there is one desirable form of food which we should expect to find in daily use by the whole Community, it is surely the salad. More than this, it deserves to meet with favour as a national dish. It takes pre-eminent rank in Southern Europe, and is certainly entitled to occupy a similar high position in the Australian food list. Unfortunately there is just the same story to tell, and the strange neglect of salads can only be expressed by the term incomprehensible. It is a waste-saving dish; it is wholesome, in that it is purifying to the blood; it is full of infinite variety; and its low price brings it within easy every-day reach even of the humblest dwelling. But, as things are, even the salad plants themselves are represented by a meagre list, and are confined to only few varieties. And as far as salad herbs are concerned, they are literally unknown.
Now, although I am strongly of opinion that a more widespread use of fish, vegetables, and salads in Australia would be attended by the happiest results (both by benefiting the national health and by developing Australia's food-industries), yet it must not be understood that I countenance vegetarianism. So far from being a vegetarian, I am one of those who firmly believe in the advantages derived from a mixed diet. But my assertion is that we in Australia habitually consume an injurious amount of meat to the exclusion of far more needed nourishment. The golden rule as far as the Australian dietary is concerned is a minimum of meat, and a relatively maximum amount of the other classes of food. The influence which food exercises upon health is a matter of far-reaching importance, in that it affects the daily life of the whole population. Amongst others, the following medical writers—Sir James Risdon Bennett, Dr. J. Milner Fothergill, Dr. T. King Chambers, and Dr. J.H. Bennett—have in the past contributed much to this subject. In the present day, Sir Henry Thompson, Sir William Roberts, Dr. T. Lauder Brunton, Dr. F.W. Pavy, Dr. Burney Yeo, and many more have given their advocacy to the same purpose. It is urged by all these authorities that there is a needless consumption of animal food even in the old country, and they all agree that an exaggerated value is attached to butcher's meat on the part of the public. If representative medical opinion thus protests against the use of an unnecessary amount of animal diet in the climatic conditions obtaining in the United Kingdom, how much more would the misuse of the same food in a semi-tropical climate like Australia be disapproved of! Indeed, I am perfectly certain, that were those who have given attention to food and dietetics in possession of the facts, they would unhesitatingly condemn the grotesque inversion of food-habits at present in vogue throughout Australia. There is one very important matter which unquestionably requires to have special attention drawn to it. I refer to the customary Australian mid-day meal. Strange to say, all through the hot season, as well as the rest of the year, this consists in most cases of a heavy repast always comprising meat. Why, even in the cooler months, a ponderous meal of this kind is not required! My own views are that meat in the middle of the day is quite unnecessary, and, indeed, during the hot months actually prejudicial. Most people in Australia, after a fair trial, will find that a lunch of some warm soup, with a course perhaps of some fish, and vegetables, or salad, or whatever it may be to follow, will not only be ample, but will give them a sensation of buoyancy in the afternoon they never before experienced. Among the recipes will be found many which may help to bring about a reform in this respect. The heavier meal should certainly be towards the evening after the sun-heat of the day is over, at which time it is more enjoyed and better digested.
Having thus far referred to our totally inadequate supply of fish food, of vegetables, and of salad plants and herbs, there is still the great Australian wine industry to consider. At present only in its swaddling clothes, it is destined before very long to enter upon its vigorous life. There was an eminent French naturalist, M.F. Peron, sent out to Australia by the Emperor Napoleon during the years 1801 to 1804 inclusive. A shrewd observer, he saw even at that early period of Australian history that there were unequalled possibilities for her wine. In the course of his interesting narrations he remarks:—"By one of those chances which are inconceivable, Great Britain is the only one of the great maritime powers which does not cultivate the vine, either in its own territories or its colonies; notwithstanding, the consumption of wine on board its fleets and throughout its vast regions is immense."
In the whole of Australia the annual production of wine is only a little over three million gallons; but in France, as well as in Italy, it is nearly 800 million gallons. These two countries together, therefore, every year produce about 1,596 million gallons more wine than Australia. These stupendous figures reveal very plainly what an enormous expansion awaits our wine industry.
The colossal growth of the wool trade is in striking contrast to the puny dimensions of the wine industry. In 1805 the exportation of wool from Australia was "nil." In 1811 it reached to the modest amount of 167 lbs., while Spain exported 6,895,525 lbs. In 1861 the exportation of wool from Australia increased to 68,428,000 lbs., whilst from Spain it fell to 1,268,617 lbs. And lastly, in 1891 the amount of wool exported from Australia reached the majestic figures of 593,830,153 lbs., representing a value of 20,569,093 pounds. If New Zealand be included, the total export attains to 710,392,909 lbs., having a value of 24,698,779 pounds. It must be borne in mind that these figures represent only the wool actually exported, and do not include that kept back for Australian requirements. As I have pointed out in the beginning of the chapter on Australian wine, if the latter industry had increased in similar proportion, Australia's prosperity would be second to none in the world.
There are some other striking figures which are well worth referring to. The city of Paris alone requires nearly 300,000 gallons of wine daily. Now, the total yearly wine production of the whole of Australia is but a little over three million gallons. It will follow from the preceding, then, that the single city of Paris itself would consume in 12 days all the wine which the whole of Australia takes 12 MONTHS to make.
The future prosperity of Australia, at least to a very great extent, is wrapped up in her wine industry; for its development means much more than a large export trade to other countries. It means, in fact, the use of Australian wine as a national and every-day wholesome beverage; it means the covering of the land with smiling vineyards; it means employment and a healthy calling literally to thousands upon thousands; and, lastly, it means settlement upon the land, and a more diffused distribution of the population throughout Australia.
It must be remembered that the nervous system is far more susceptible to the effects of alcohol in a warm than in a cooler climate. It is said that in Southern Europe there are very few water drinkers, but that, on the other hand, there are very few who indulge in strong drink. The system does not feel to want the strong alcohol, so to speak. A weaker wine in a warm climate produces the same feeling of exhilaration that one of greater alcoholic strength does in colder countries. We shall not go far wrong in Australia if we stick to our own natural wines. As it will be found in the chapter on Australian wine, the every-day wine for Australian use is a wine of low alcoholic strength; a wine of which a tumblerful may be taken with benefit; a wine, indeed, which is beneficial, cheering, hygienic, restorative, and wholesome.
By reason of his semi-tropical climate the Australian is bathed in an atmosphere of sunshine. This has a distinct effect upon the blood, for the action of sunlight upon this fluid is to redden it—a fact which has for ages been dwelt upon by the poets. But for a scientific explanation of this effect of sunlight in reddening the blood we must turn to the spectrum analysis. The visible solar spectrum as shown through a prism by the ordinary sunbeam is made up of the seven different colours, namely, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Instead of consisting simply of white light as a whole, it is now universally accepted that in this spectrum different properties belong to different parts. Light or luminous power to one portion; heat or calorific power to another; and chemical power or actinism to a third.
The visible solar or Newtonian luminous spectrum, resulting from the decomposition of white light by a prism, is only the middle portion of the whole solar spectrum. Beyond the red end there are rays possessing still greater-heating effect; and beyond the violet extremity there are rays endowed with far more powerful chemical action. The violet, and especially these latter ultra-violet rays, redden the life stream by increasing the haemoglobin—that crystallizable body which forms so large a portion of the coloured corpuscles of the blood. Sunlight, moreover, has not only this action upon the animal kingdom, but also upon the vegetable world as well Plants, like celery, which are subjected to blanching, become whitened under the process of etiolation. This is due to the absence of chlorophyll, the green colouring matter of plants, which can only be developed by the presence of light. The tops of celery, being unearthed, retain their green colour, while the stem embedded in the soil acquires its familiar whiteness.
Many philosophical writers, notably David Hume and Charles Comte, C. Montesquieu in his L'Esprit des Lois, and Henry Thomas Buckle in his HISTORY OF CIVILISATION IN ENGLAND, have dilated upon the influence which climate exerts over race, and all their forceful opinions are to the effect that the character of a people is moulded by climatic conditions. More than this, the same new was entertained by the classic writers; for we find the philosopher and orator Cicero recording his belief that "Athens has a light atmosphere, whence the Athenians are thought to be more keenly intelligent; Thebes a dense one, and the Thebans fat-witted accordingly." Again, Horace, the poet and satirist, has given us the famous passage:—" You would swear he (Alexander the Great) was born in the dense atmosphere of the Boeotians."
But the influence of climate is not confined to ordinary conditions alone, because without the shadow of a doubt it controls disease as well. As it is well known, certain diseases are peculiar to, and confined to, certain regions. And, moreover, a malady will vary in its type in different zones. Thus the disease known as rickets is in the old country marked in many cases by bending of the bones, giving rise to deformities of the limbs, &c. The Australian type of the disorder, however, is milder altogether, and is of a different character. The Australian child is straight-limbed almost without exception, yet the Australian type of rickety disease, as I pointed out in 1891, is quite a definite affection.
At the Congress of Naturalists and Physicians at Strasburg in 1885 the great German pathologist, Professor Virchow, called attention to a sphere of research in which, he alleged, neither the French nor the English had hitherto accomplished anything of importance, namely, the modifications of the organism, and particularly of the special alterations of each organ, connected with the phenomena of acclimatization. This reproach cannot be denied. We have not yet reached the stage in Australia of noting the effect which climate has upon the system in general, much less of inquiring into the changes which occur in such organs as the liver, spleen, &c. But apart from investigating the phenomena of acclimatization, it is very plain that the people of Australia have never given any heed to their semitropical climate, or else the food-faults now universally practised would have been rectified long before this.
It has always been a matter of interesting speculation as to what the characteristic type of the future Australian will be. But reflections of this kind can only be in the right direction by bearing in mind the ever-present climatic conditions. Climate is of all forces the most irresistible; for, on the one hand, the Great Desert of Sahara could not be crossed in an Arctic costume and on Esquimaux diet; nor, on the other, could the Polar regions be explored in a Hindoo garb and on Oriental fare. And though blood is thicker than water, yet the resistless influence of a semi-tropical range of temperature will be to imprint on the descendants of the present inhabitants of Australia some marked peculiarities of skin-colour, of facial expression, of lingual accent, and perhaps even of bodily conformation.
Quite recently an observing writer, in a keenly analytical if somewhat facetious article, gave it as his opinion that the coming Australians will be as follows:—"They will not be so entirely agricultural as the Americans were; they will be horsemen, not gig-drivers. Descended from adventurers, not from Puritans, and eager, as men of their climate must be, for pleasant lives, they will thirst for dependent possessions, for gardens where fortunes grow. The early Americans were men of austere temper, who led, on an ungrateful soil, lives of permanent hardship. They had to fight the sea, the snow, the forest, the Indians, and their own hearts. The Australians, with a warmer climate, without Puritan traditions, with wealth among them from the first, will be a softer, though not a weaker people; fonder of luxury, and better fitted to enjoy Art, with an appreciation of beauty which the Americans have never shown. They will be a people growing and drinking wine, caring much for easy society, addicted to conversation, and never happy without servants. The note of discontent which penetrates the whole American character will be absent."
From the climatic standpoint alone it is safe to predict that the future Australian will be more nearly akin to the inhabitants of Southern Europe than to his progenitors in the old country; though, naturally, there will be considerable diversity between the native born of the various regions, covering as they do such a vast extent of territory. The ample opportunities for outdoor life will do much towards ensuring physical development. And, finally, the imaginative faculties will be very active, and it is quite permissible to hope that in time there will be a long roll of artists, musicians, and poets.
As it will be seen, a considerable portion of this work is taken up with the practical side of living, as exemplified by the Australian Cookery Recipes. From the very first it was recognised that it was imperative to include them within its compass. It occurred to me, however, that this important department would better be undertaken by someone thoroughly conversant with the subject. With this object in view, therefore, I submitted to Mrs. H. Wicken what I required. I knew Mrs. Wicken to be well qualified for the task from the following facts, namely, that she had previously been successful in her culinary writings; that she was a Diplomee of the National Training School for Cookery, South Kensington; and that she occupied the responsible post of lecturer to the Technical College, Sydney. My propositions were that the recipes were to be written purely for Australian use, and that they were to be of the strictly economical order. Mrs. Wicken accepted the task, and it can only be hoped that her efforts will meet with the approbation they deserve.
In their original form the three chapters on Australian Food Habits, Australian Fish and Oysters, and on Salads, appeared in THE DAILY TELEGRAPH, Sydney. I take this opportunity, therefore, of expressing my sense of obligation to the Proprietors thereof for their courtesy in permitting me to make complete use of these three contributions. As they now appear in chapters they have been revised, considerably altered, and materially added to, for the purposes of reproduction in book form.
143, Elizabeth Street Hyde Park, Sydney September 1893
EPIGRAPH
A farmer being on the point of death, and wishing to show his sons the way to success in farming, called them to him and said—"My children I am now departing this life, but all that I have to leave you, you will find in the vineyard." The sons, supposing that he referred to some hidden treasure, as soon as the old man was dead, set to work with their spades and ploughs and every implement that was at hand, and turned up the soil over and over again. They found indeed no treasure; but the vines, strengthened and improved by this thorough tillage, yielded a finer vintage than they had ever yielded before, and more than repaid the young husbandmen for all their trouble. So truly is industry in itself a treasure.—THE FABLES OF AESOP.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. THE CLIMATE OF AUSTRALIA. Their semi-tropical climate hitherto unrecognised by the people of Australia—Reasons advanced for this statement; early gold-mining era influences still at work, and Anglo-Saxon heredities—Hot months and cooler months; temperatures of the Australian capital cities—Fluctuations of temperature and barometric pressure not extreme—Equability of Australian climate a marked feature—Not many successive days of great heat—Humidity of atmosphere in different colonies—A dry heat always preferable to a moist heat—Duration of the different seasons, and months apportioned to each season—Prevailing winds, and ROLE of hot winds
CHAPTER II. THE ALPHABETICAL PENTAGON OF HEALTH FOR AUSTRALIA. The Alphabetical Pentagon a convenient form of remembering that the FIVE essentials of health—namely, Ablution: the Skin and the Bath; Bedroom Ventilation; Clothing; Diet; and Exercise—occur in alphabetical order
CHAPTER III. ABLUTION—THE SKIN AND THE BATH. Important and numerous functions of the skin—The skin itself and its different parts—The use of the scarf skin—The structure of the true skin—The perspiration tubes—The tubes of the oil-glands—Great value of the cold bath—Importance of the rubbing down after the cold bath—The cold bath as a preventive of disease—The cold bath in the maintenance of health—The warm cleansing bath—The beneficial effect of adding salt at the end of a warm bath—Other interesting hints
Loss of hair in Australia—Structure of the hair, and its blood supply —The hair is not a tube—Management of the hair—Singeing the hair— Washing the hair—Description of brushes and combs recommended—Hard rim of the hat a factor in thinning the hair—Excellent applications for promoting the growth of the hair
Formation of the nail—Different parts of the nail—Growth of the nail—The care of the nails
Disorders arising from loss of teeth—The preservation of the teeth— An admirable recipe for a tooth-powder—Management of the teeth—Use of floss silk
CHAPTER IV. BEDROOM VENTILATION. The bedroom the most important room in the house—necessity for proper ventilation—Extra allowance of sleep in hot climates—Crowding of articles in bedrooms condemned—Results of breathing vitiated air—Injuriously affects the heart as well as the lungs—The proper dimensions of a bedroom—Regulation of the ventilation—Mosquito nettings for summer months—Fresh air equally required in the cooler months
CHAPTER V. CLOTHING, AND WHAT TO WEAR. No clothing actually creates warmth of itself—The varying powers of clothing to detain air in its meshes—Two or three layers of clothing always warmer than a single garment equal to their combined thickness—The transmission of the body-heat to the clothes—The different fabrics are either good or bad conductors of heat—Permeability of clothing to air—The vegetable kingdom; the properties of cotton and of linen—The animal products; the properties of silk and of wool—Wool one of the best materials to wear next the skin—Recommendations for wearing woollen under-garments —The way to prevent them from shrinking—The modern pyjamas immensely superior to the old-fashioned bed-gown—The clothing would be modified according to the season of the year.
CHAPTER VI. DIET—IMPORTANCE OF BREAKFAST, FRUIT, TEA, COFFEE, ICED DRINKS, TOBACCO. Breakfast usually scampered through—Monotony of the ordinary breakfast—A plea for something better—Butter during Australian summer months—The ice-chest an absolute necessity— Breakfast should be a substantial meal
Fruit fortunately abundant in Australia—The agreeable qualities of fruits reside in three factors—Fruit must neither be over-ripe nor under-ripe—The anti-scorbutic properties of fruit—Changes in the blood in scurvy—Mild forms of scurvy not uncommon—Symptoms of an excess of uric acid in the stem—A word for olives
Abuse of tea by the gentler sex—Protest against lunch of tea and broad and butter—An admirable opportunity for philanthropic efforts— Tea to be enjoyed, and not misused—The making of tea—The anti-tannic teapot
The three active principles of coffee—Coffee stimulates the brain— Coffee relieves fatigue and exhaustion, whether mental or manual—The virtues of coffee—Coffee as a remedy in different diseases—The details of coffee roasting—The art of making coffee—The cafetiere, or French coffee-pot—Proportions of coffee and of chicory in "cafe noir" and "cafe au lait" respectively—Minute instructions for making coffee
Universal use of ice in America—Ice indispensable in hot climates—
Expert opinions upon the value of ice in India—Medical authorities
practically unanimous in favour of ice when used with discretion—
Purity of the ice must be ensured
Proportion of smokers to non-smokers—Five out of every six men smoke —Amount of tobacco used in Australia and in other countries—The effect of tobacco on the system provisionally divided into three classes—The principles contained in tobacco—Different results of combustion from a cigar and from a pipe—Effect of tobacco when it is unsuitable—Symptoms following excessive smoking—The smokers heart— Men of middle age often compelled to give up tobacco—Effect of tobacco upon the palate—Power to appreciate good wine lost after the first whiff of cigarette, cigar, or pipe
CHAPTER VII. EXERCISE. Effect of exercise upon the muscles—Exercise removes debris from the system—Bodily health the great desideratum of the present day—Will power increased by exercise—Exercise improves the quality of the blood—Exercise strengthens the heart and lungs, and benefits the nervous system—Every one must perform his own exercise; no carrying it out by proxy—Walking six miles a day the orthodox amount of exercise—Early morning exercise not beneficial to everybody—It is only by exercise, and by exercise alone, that the different organs are brought to the perfection of health
CHAPTER VIII. ON SCHOOL COOKERY, AND ITS INFLUENCE ON THE AUSTRALIAN DAILY LIFE. Enormous consumption of meat and of tea in Australia—A contest between a semi-tropical climate and Anglo-Saxon heredities— Progressive changes in the theories of education—The purpose of education—School cookery instruction in England and in Australia— Cookery in its relation to health—Cookery as a preventive of drunkenness—Cookery in the formation of character—A national plea on behalf of Australian school cookery
CHAPTER IX. AUSTRALIAN FOOD HABITS, AND THEIR FAULTS—A PLEA FOR THEIR IMPROVEMENT. Food usually in harmony with climate, except in Australia —Isothermal lines of Australian cities, Southern Europe, and southern portion of United States—Australian food habits diametrically opposed to climate—Lamentable state of Australian cookery—Restricted choice of vegetables in Australia—Many other desirable vegetables never seen here, but in great request elsewhere—No possible excuse, as they would all do well—Extraordinary trouble in popularising the tomato in Australia—A protest against "boiling," and nothing but "boiling," in the cookery of vegetables—Cookery must be taught in Australian schools—No national Australian dish, a reproach to Australia
CHAPTER X. AUSTRALIAN FISH AND OYSTERS—AND THEIR FOOD VALUE. No deep-sea fisheries in Australia, although her people come from a maritime stock—The defectiveness of our Australian fish supply—Our primitive methods of fish capture—The beam-trawl in deep-sea fishing—Drift-net and other deep-sea fishing—Benefits from the development of our deep-sea fisheries—Fish markets—The "middleman" controversy—The distribution of fish to the public—Fishmongers and the sale of fish— The development of the oyster—The failure in the New South Wales and Victorian oyster supplies—The recreation of our oyster fisheries— The food value of the oyster—The food value of fish
CHAPTER XI. ON SALADS; SALAD PLANTS AND HERBS; AND SALAD MAKING. Salads plainly intended for Australian use—Many people miss the present in looking for the future—Cookery of the highest excellence amongst all classes in France—A contrast between the English and the French methods of making a salad—Detailed instructions for the preparation of a French salad—Importance of a roomy and properly shaped salad bowl—Poor display of greengrocery in Australia as compared with the show of meat—Salad plants in great request elsewhere which might readily be cultivated in Australia—Salad herbs indispensable to a proper salad, but entirely unknown in Australia—A complete recipe for the famous Mayonnaise sauce—An excellent recipe for a herring salad
CHAPTER XII. ON AUSTRALIAN WINE, AND ITS PLACE IN THE AUSTRALIAN DAILY DIETARY. "With time and care Australia ought to be the vineyard of the world"—Interesting facts in the early history of the vine in Australia—Figures showing the possibilities of Australian viticulture —The climate—The soil—"Cepage," or variety—The preparation of the soil—Laying-out the vineyard—Whether to plant cuttings or rooted vines—The height of the vine above the ground—On pruning— The cellar—The gathering of she grape—Varying additions to the must —The must itself—Fermentation—THE TASTING AND JUDGING OF WINES— uniformity required in Australian wines—The future success of the Australian wine industry, and upon what it depends
PART I.
THE ART OF LIVING IN AUSTRALIA
CHAPTER I. THE CLIMATE OF AUSTRALIA.
Australia, forming as it does a vast island continent in the Southern world, lies to some extent within the tropical range, for the Tropic of Capricorn traverses its northern part. At present, however, its most densely populated portion lies just outside the tropics, and it is this semi-tropical part of Australia with which we have mostly to do. And apart, too, from the mere fact of Australia being between certain parallels of latitude, which makes its climate tropical or semi-tropical, as the case may be, its position is peculiar in that it forms this enormous ocean-girt continent already described.
One of the most extraordinary circumstances in connection with the Australian people is, that they have never yet realized their semi-tropical environment. It would naturally be supposed that a dominating influence of this kind would have, from the very first, exercised an irresistible effect on their mode of living. But, on the contrary, the type of the Australian dwelling-house, the clothing of the Australian people, and, what is more significant than anything else, their food habits, prove incontestably that they have never recognised the semi-tropical character of their climate all over the rest of the world it will be found that the inhabitants of different regions adapt themselves to their surroundings. For instance, the Laplander and the Hindoo live in such a widely different manner, that one can scarcely believe they belong to the same human family.
It has, however, been reserved for Australia, strange even from the first, to prove an exception to this universal law. Yes, strange even from the first! For did not the earliest arrivals find that the seasons came at the wrong time of the year; that Christmas-tide came with sunshine, and that the middle of the year was its coolest part? Were there not found in it curious animals, partly quadruped, partly bird, and partly reptile? Were there not discovered, also, other animals who carried their young in a pouch? Moreover, did Dot these first settlers see that the trees shed their bark, and not their leaves; and that the stones were on the outside, not the inside, of the cherries?
But even admitting these peculiarities of season, of FAUNA and of flora it may be asked, How is it that the people of Australia have never adapted themselves to their climatic surroundings? The answer, or rather answers, to such an interrogation must largely consist of matters of opinion. This being the case, therefore, I call do no more than attempt to give my own explanation of this singular anomaly. It must be remembered that the one great impetus to colonisation in Australia was the discovery of gold in 1851. Up till that time settlement had been proceeding steadily, it is true. Indeed, one may go 80 far as to say that the development of the country was progressing, although slowly, on safe and natural lines. But the announcement of the finding of gold, which was continually being corroborated by successive reports, acted as an electric stimulus throughout the whole civilized world. As a consequence shipload after shipload of new comers flocked to Australia, all aflame with the same ardent desire—gold. Amongst them were certainly many of the picked men of the earth, whose spirit will leaven the whole of Australasia for all time to come. Yet even at the present day we still see the influence of this gold period at work, in the readiness with which men are caught by any plausible mining prospectus. They have only to be told that a company is being formed to extract gold out of road metal, and they are ready to believe it, and, what is more, prepared to put money into it.
But far better than all this eagerness to amass wealth by some fortunate COUP, would be the natural development of the country. Agriculture and market-gardening, vine-growing and wine-making, the deep-sea fisheries and all the other comparatively neglected opportunities, only await their expansion into vast sources of wealth. What wonder, then, that a continent with so much that is wanting in connection with its food life should be living in a manner distinctly opposed to its climatological necessities! In the case of America there is a far different history. Settlement began there in a small way at first, to gradually expand as time went on. There was no sudden event, with the exception of the short-lived Californian gold rush of 1849-50, to set men flocking to its shores in countless legions. No, in America the inland territory has been peopled, steadily and slowly at first, but in after years by leaps and bounds, so that its development has been on a perfectly natural basis.
But there must be something even more than this to explain the want of adaptation to climate shown in Australia, and it is, I think, to be found in the following. It must be remembered that Australia has been peopled chiefly by the Anglo-Saxon race. In such a stock the traditional tendencies are almost ineradicable, and hence it is that the descendants of the new comers believe as their fathers, did before them. It's in the blood. For there can be no doubt but that the Anglo-Saxon thinks there is only one way of living in every part of the world—no matter whether the climate be tropical, semi-tropical, or frigid. Those in the old country live in a certain manner, and all the rest of the globe have every right to follow their example.
These two facts that Australia was peopled in part by the influx which followed the discovery of gold, and that its inhabitants belong essentially to the Anglo-Saxon race, have unquestionably exercised a great influence over our Australian food-habits. But notwithstanding these powerful underlying factors, there still remains that most extraordinary circumstance, to which I at first referred, namely, that the Australian people have never realized their semi-tropical environment. In order to assign to this latter the prominence it deserves, it seems desirable to make special inquiry into the peculiarities of the climate in its different parts. With that object in view, therefore, I wrote for certain information to the observatories of the four principal Australian metropolitan centres, namely, Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, and Brisbane. As has always been the case, I received the fullest answers to my requests from Mr. H.C. Russell, Government Astronomer of New South Wales; from Mr. R.L.J. Ellery, Government Astronomer of Victoria; from Sir Charles Todd, Government Observer of South Australia; and from Mr. Clement L. Wragge, Government Meteorologist of Queensland. And it is with a feeling of considerable indebtedness to these gentlemen that I acknowledge their uniform kindness. And yet it is important to remember that the annual temperature, by itself, of any given locality may afford no indication whatever of its climatic peculiarities. Take for instance the climate of the North-Eastern portion of the United States. That region is characterized by intense heat during the summer, and extreme cold in the winter. In New York, for example, the mean summer temperature ranges as high as 70.9 degrees, while the mean winter temperature is as low as 30.1 degrees; yet the mean temperature of the whole year is 53.2 degrees, affording no indication of these extremes. The mean annual temperature alone, therefore, would be entirely misleading, as it would give no idea of these alternations of heat and cold. Such being the case, the actual character of any climate will be far better realized by placing in juxtaposition the mean annual temperature, the mean temperature of the hot, and the mean temperature of the cooler months. First of all, then, I purpose showing the mean annual temperature, and also the mean temperatures for the hot and cooler months, of the four largest Australian centres.
TABLE showing the Mean Annual Temperature, and also the Mean Temperatures for the Hot and Cooler Months, of Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, and Brisbane.
Capital. Mean Annual Mean Temperature Mean Temperature
Temeperature for the Hot Months for the Cold Months
Sydney 62.9 70 58.7
Melbourne 57.5 64.9 53.8
Adelaide 63.1 72.4 58.4
Brisbane 67.74 75.2 64.3
Much will be gained by a comparison of these temperatures of the Australian capitals with those of some other cities in different parts of the world. A contrast of this kind will, in my opinion, help to a truer understanding of the climate of these capitals, than any other. Accordingly I made a successful application to Mr. H.C. Russell, for the corresponding temperatures of the following cities: London, Edinburgh, Dublin; Marseilles, Naples, Messina; New York, San Francisco, New Orleans; Bombay, Calcutta, and Madras.
TABLE showing the Mean Annual Temperature, as well as the Mean Summer and Winter Temperatures, in twelve different cities.
City. Mean Annual Temp. Mean Summer Temp. Mean Winter Temp.
UNITED KINGDOM
London 50.8 62.9 39.5
Edinburgh 47.5 58 38
Dublin 50 61.1 40.7
. . . .
SOUTHERN EUROPE
Marseilles (France) 58.3 72.9 45.2
Naples (Italy) 62 74.4 47.6
Messina (Sicily) 65.8 77.2 55
. . . .
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
New York 53.2 70.9 30.1
San Francisco 56.2 60 51.6
New Orleans 69.8 82 55.8
. . . .
INDIA
Bombay 78.8 82.6 73.8
Calcutta 78.4 83.3 67.8
Madras 82 86.4 76.6
It has been said that Australia is practically Southern Europe, and to a very great extent this is perfectly true. It will be seen, however, on reference to the preceding tables, that the Australian climate is more equable than that of Southern Europe, for there is not such a marked difference between the hot and the cooler months. In the New England States of North America, as exemplified by New York, there are intensely hot summers and extremely cold winters—to which fact attention has already been drawn. And lastly, in India, the thermometer stands at such a height, winter as well as summer, that we can only be thankful our lines are cast in more pleasant places.
Having thus compared the summer and winter temperatures of the Australian capitals with those of other cities in different parts of the world, it will be advisable to direct our attention to some details connected with the climate of these capitals, and of the corresponding colonies generally. Commencing with Sydney we find that the climate is characterized by the absence of very violent changes of temperature, owing in great measure to its proximity to the ocean, which in winter is about 10 degrees warmer than the air. Its summer climate is marked by the absence of hot winds, which do not come more than three or four times, and the are short-lived, seldom lasting more than five or six hours. For a short time in the midsummer of each year, Sydney is visited regularly by moist sea breezes, which are enervating to many persons. While these continue the temperature seldom rises to 80 degrees, but there is so much moisture that they are very oppressive. Otherwise the climate is one of the most enjoyable in the world. In other parts of New South Wales towns may be found varying in mean temperature from 45.8 degrees at Kiandra to 69.1 degrees at Bourke. Speaking generally it is a fact that for the same mean annual temperature in New South Wales the range between summer and winter temperature is less than it is in Europe.
The climate of Melbourne is characterized by a low average humidity, moderate rainfall, and moderate winds, strong gales being of her rare occurrence. The most marked feature is the summer hot wind. A hot wind is always a northerly wind, and the highest temperature generally occurs a little before the win changes to west or south-west. When this takes place a sudden drop to a comparatively low temperature sometimes follows within a few minutes. These hot winds, however, are not frequent, only averaging eight or nine per annum. These characteristics will apply to all Victoria except the mountain ranges, where all the climatic elements vary with the altitude.
The climate of Adelaide is certainly healthy, and, with the exception of the extreme heat occasionally experienced in summer, the weather may be described as enjoyable. It must be remembered, however, that these high temperatures are always accompanied by extreme dryness, the wet bulb thermometer usually reading at such times from 30 to 35 degrees, or even more, below the temperature of the air. The heat is, therefore, more bearable than if it was combined with the humid atmosphere. When the thermometer stands perhaps at something over 100 degrees, the wet bulb thermometer will show 65 degrees, and it is this which enables persons to bear the heat of the summer and carry on their usual pursuits with less inconvenience and discomfort than is felt in tropical and damp climates, though the temperature may be 15 or 20 degrees lower, but nearly saturated with aqueous vapour, as at Port Darwin, where during the rainy season of the north-west monsoon the thermometer may stand at only 88 degrees, whilst the wet bulb at the same time indicates 86 degrees. Such an atmosphere, it need hardly be said, is far more enervating than the hot and dry air of the Adelaide plains. The summer, which may be termed warm and dry, usually extends over, say, five months; and during the remainder of the year the climate is simply perfect. The temperature in mid-winter over the Adelaide plains rarely, if ever, reaches the freezing point, although there may be sharp frosts, and on still clear nights, so frequently experienced, copious dews. On the ranges, and on the high lying plains 150 miles north of Adelaide, lower temperatures are reached, indeed in some years there have been falls of snow.
The climatic features of Brisbane are, as a mean expression, decidedly semi-tropical. The months from October to March may be classed as tropic when vegetation makes luxuriant growth, especially if the rainfall prove abundant. The rest of the year, from April to September, is marked by a dry, bracing, "continental" climate, during which the westerly wind often proves very cold, bleaching, and searching accompanied by great dryness accumulated during the passage of this current from southern-central Australia. Many settlers affirm that they feel the peculiar searching character of the dry cold "westerlies" more keenly than the more "honest" frost of the old country. Yet vigorous constitutions thoroughly enjoy the bracing nature of the westerly weather of winter. Hard ground frosts not unfrequently occur in the Darling Downs and Maranoa districts, especially during May, June, and July, in connection with the westerly type of climate; and, moreover, ice has at times been observed in the water-jugs of bedrooms, &c. As before intimated, the westerly winds are marked by great dryness, so that (saturation= 100) a percentage of relative humidity below 33 per cent. may occur during the prevalence of such phenomena, not only in Brisbane, but especially in the more western districts above mentioned. Such conditions are characterized by great diathermancy of atmosphere, and hence are frequently followed by days of considerable heat. Even in the tropics, in inland districts, ground frosts are known to have occurred owing to this extreme diathermancy of the atmosphere far from the coast, and the consequent attendant factor of active terrestrial radiation. In coast districts, or that fringe of country bordering the ocean north from Rockhampton, frost is of very rare occurrence, and the prevailing winds are between south-east and east-north-east, with a rainfall far more abundant than that obtaining in other parts of Queensland. The climate of the country surrounding the southern end of the Gulf of Carpentaria is very hot and trying from November to March, but genial thenceforward. It is certainly not unhealthy, and the fevers suffered from in the northern and gulf districts of Queensland are largely brought on by reckless or needless exposure.
In addition to the foregoing, which has been obtained from head-quarters, certain questions were submitted by me as to the climatology of the different colonies. As it will be seen, these interrogations are somewhat extensive in their scope, and supply knowledge upon points, which is not ordinarily met with in my descriptions of Australian climate. In drafting them everything which had a bearing on health was included as far as possible, and consequently in a work of this kind they unquestionably deserve a prominent place. In arranging them I purpose placing the different replies after each question in the following order, namely, New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia, and Queensland. And in the different answers it should be borne in mind that Mr. H.C. Russell is responsible for New South Wales; Mr. R.L.J. Ellery for Victoria; Sir Charles Todd for South Australia; and Mr. Clement L. Wragge for Queensland.
IS IT NOT A FACT THAT THE TEMPERATURE AND BAROMETRIC PRESSURE ARE EXPOSED TO SUDDEN AND MARKED CHANGES? HAVE YOU KNOWN THE TEMPERATURE TO FALL, SAY, AS MUCH AS 22 DEGREES IN 15 MINUTES?
New South Wales.—The temperature sometimes changes rapidly in the summer, coming with a change from a hot wind to a cold southerly, although the instances are rare. Once in 30 years I have known such a change to amount to 20 degrees in 15 minutes. Under ordinary circumstances the change in temperature from hot to cold wind takes several hours to amount to 20 degrees. The fluctuations of barometric pressure are moderate, seldom amounting to half an inch in a day, or an inch in a week. In England, on the other hand, the pressure sometimes varies quickly to the extent of two inches.
Victoria.—Yes; the temperature much more so than the barometric pressure; it has fallen from a high temperature to 20 and even 30 degrees sometimes in as many minutes, when a hot north wind has suddenly changed to a cold southerly one. But such sudden and great changes occur very seldom, and then only in the hot summer months, and are known as "the change." On several occasions in the last 30 years it has fallen from 105 degrees in the shade to 70 degrees and 65 degrees in the shade in less than an hour.
South Australia.—Yes, in the summer; but, especially as regards temperature, rarely in the winter. One notable example occurred on February 9th, 1887, when during a heavy thunder-storm the temperature fell 25 degrees in 10 or 15 minutes, followed by a rising temperature. In other instances the fall of temperature has been almost equally rapid. From this it will be seen that we are subject to large and quick falls of temperature following extreme heat. The approach of hot weather is usually gradual, and the fall abrupt. The barometer has been known to show a rise of 6/10 of an inch in 24 hours; this, however, is exceptional.
Queensland.—There is no record of a fall of as much as 22 degrees in 15 minutes. But, on the other hand, a rise of 30 degrees in three hours is a common feature over the Darling Downs after sunrise. Owing to the diathermancy of the atmosphere already referred to, it is a fact, nevertheless, that in the "continental" or inland districts of Southern Queensland the temperature in winter is subject to sudden and marked changes. Barometric pressure, owing to the comparatively low latitude, is not exposed to sudden and marked changes, except during hurricane conditions, which usually affect the central coast-line in February and March.
AS A COROLLARY TO THE PRECEDING, WOULD YOU SAY THAT THE CLIMATE IS MARKED BY GREAT VARIABILITY?
New South Wales.—No; just the opposite. Indeed, as regards Sydney itself. there are few cities in which so much uniformity of temperature and slow changes, are to be found. The cause of any great change is the hot wind, and as that seldom comes more than three or four times in the year, great changes are infrequent. The mean diurnal range in Sydney is 11 1/2 degrees, and taking a series of years it is very unusual for the range on any day to reach 25 degrees.
Victoria.—No; because these are exceptional phenomena. In the late Spring and during early summer the climate may be said to be occasionally subject to sharp and sudden changes, which give it the character of variability. But the deviations from mean temperature, except for short periods, are not remarkable.
South Australia.—Yes, in summer; but not in winter.
Queensland.—Certainly not; with the exception of the wide diurnal range of temperature in winter in the southern "continental" districts, as at Cambooya and Thargomindah. The changes are, according to my knowledge, far more sudden and marked in the southern colonies (as during a "shift" from N.E. by W., to S.W. for instance, at Melbourne, and especially at Adelaide) than in Queensland and its coastal districts.
WITH REGARD TO SUSTAINED, PROLONGED, OR CONTINUED HIGH TEMPERATURES DURING THE SUMMER MONTHS, FOR HOW MANY DAYS HAVE YOU KNOWN THE TEMPERATURE REMAIN CONTINUOUSLY AT A HIGH LEVEL? THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION, AS IT CONCERNS INFANTILE MORTALITY IN NO SMALL DEGREE; I SHALL BE GRATEFUL FOR YOUR EXPERIENCE?
New South Wales.—Much depends upon what temperature is deemed a "high level." If we assume that 90 degrees and upwards is a high level, then such periods are very rare in Sydney; in fact during the past 24 years there have only been three. In 1868 there were three consecutive hot days of which the mean temperature was 91.8 degrees; in 1870 a period of four days with a mean temperature of 91.3 degrees; and in 1874 a period of four days with a mean temperature of 90.2 degrees. Since then, although sometimes near it, the temperature has never been for three days over 90 degrees. Taking a lower level, we have one period of nine days in 1870, the longest on record, during which the mean temperature was 82.6 degrees. It must, however, be distinctly understood that what is here taken is not the mean temperature of each 24 hours, but the highest temperature reached during the day, and which would not as a rule last more than three or four hours, if so much. If the mean temperature of the day were taken these temperatures, as given, would have to be reduced at least 10 per cent.
Victoria.—It is very unusual to have a hot period lasting more than three days; when it does happen it is generally in February or March. In the majority of cases high temperatures (over 90 degrees) do not last more than one or two days. The exceptions generally occur in February or March, and have sometimes extended to four or five days hot weather, with a temperature of over 80 degrees with a maximum of about 90 degrees, has on a few occasions during the last 30 years extended from five to ten days; and in 1890, a memorable instance, to 12 days (the only case for 37 years).
South Australia.—The longest stretch of continuous heat noted was in January and February 1857. On January 28th, 29th, and 30th, the temperature exceeded 100 degrees, and during the whole of February it was over 90 degrees on 25 days, and above 100 degrees on 12 days, the mean being 107 degrees. In January 1858 there were 10 consecutive days over 90 degrees, of which eight consecutive days were over 100 degrees. In January 1860 there were in the beginning of the month seven consecutive days, above 100 degrees (maximum 107.5 degrees). In the middle of the same month, seven days were over 90 degrees, of which five exceeded 100 degrees, two days reaching 113.7 degrees. These are, however, exceptions to our usual experience. Although there are several other instances of great heat, yet the foregoing will suffice to show what we occasionally suffer without much harm being done.
Queensland.—During the period February 17th to February 23rd, 1891, the shade temperature at Townsville ranged between 81 degrees and 62 degrees, but at Cairns a range between 82 degrees and 70 degrees is of frequent occurrence, within at least fortnightly periods.
ANY INFORMATION WITH REGARD TO HUMIDITY OF THE ATMOSPHERE ALSO, WILL BE OF GREAT VALUE. ALL PHYSICIANS ARE OF OPINION THAT A HIGH TEMPERATURE, COMBINED WITH MOISTURE, IS VERY IRRITATING TO THE LUNGS OF THOSE AFFECTED WITH PULMONARY DISEASE.
Before setting forth the different answers in response to this, it will be desirable to refer briefly to the term "humidity." The humidity of the atmosphere is defined as the degree of its approach to saturation. Air completely saturated is represented by 100, and that absolutely free of vapour by 0. As a matter of fact, however, the latter never occurs; even in the driest regions of Arabia a humidity of 10 per cent. is almost unknown. For its estimation the Wet and Dry Bulb thermometers are employed. These consist of two ordinary thermometers. One has its bulb exposed so as to register the temperature of the air. The bulb of the other is covered with muslin; this latter material being kept wet through its connection with a cotton wick dipping into a vessel of water. The water ascends from this vessel by capillary attraction, spreads over the muslin, and evaporates quickly or slowly, according to the dryness or moistness of the atmosphere. Thus when the air is driest the difference between the two thermometers will be greatest, and, on the contrary, when it is completely saturated with moisture the two readings will be almost identical.
New South Wales.—A considerable part of the colony, forming the western plains, is subject to great heat, caused, no doubt, by the sun's great power on treeless plains, and the almost total absence of cooling winds; yet, although in summer the temperature here frequently rises over 100 degrees, and sometimes up to 120 degrees, owing to the cold at night and in winter the mean temperatures are not greater than those of corresponding latitudes in the northern hemisphere. This region of the colony is remarkably dry, and stock of all kinds thrive well and are very free from disease. At Bourke, the driest place in the colony, the humidity for a long series of years is—in the spring 51 degrees, in the summer 49 degrees, in the autumn 61 degrees, and in the winter 74 degrees. At Sydney the humidity in the Spring is 69 degrees, in the summer 70 degrees, in the autumn 79 degrees, and in the winter 79 degrees.
Victoria.—The humidity of the air of Melbourne is low, the average being 71 per cent. In the summer it falls to 65, and on hot days is generally very low. The characteristic of our hot weather is that it is usually extremely dry; the exceptions are very few, and occur in the late Spring and early autumn during thundery, muggy weather. On the hottest days, with north winds, the dryness makes the heat much more endurable, and the humidity frequently falls to between 30 and 40 per cent.
South Australia.—Attention has already been drawn to the fact that the hot, dry air met with on the Adelaide plains is far more endurable than a lower temperature in which the atmosphere is surcharged with aqueous vapour. A damp atmosphere is a rare thing in South Australia during the summer, though in March there are at times some warm and humid days. In the winter the air for the most part is dry, although the nights are often damp. The Mount Lofty Ranges, close to Adelaide, afford a cool retreat; they have a very large rainfall, in some years over 50 inches. The climate at Mount Gambier, in the south-eastern part of the colony, is cooler and damper; it has also a much heavier rainfall than the Adelaide plains.
OF WHAT DURATION ARE THE DIFFERENT SEASONS, AND TO WHAT MONTHS WOULD YOU APPORTION EACH SEASON?
New South Wales and Victoria.—Spring—September, October, November;
Summer—December, January, February; Autumn—March, April, May;
Winter—June, July, August.
South Australia.—Spring—September, October; Summer comprises the five months from November to March inclusive; Autumn—April, May; Winter—June, July, August. Practically, in South Australia the year may be divided into two seasons, namely, Spring, the seven months from April to October inclusive; and Summer, the five months from November to March inclusive.
Queensland.—With regard to Southern Queensland, the seasons may be
provisionally apportioned as follows: Spring—August, September,
October; Summer—November, December, January, February, Autumn—
March, April, May; Winter—June, July.
WHAT ARE THE PREVAILING WINDS, AND WHAT PARTICULAR ROLE DO THE HOT WINDS PLAY?
New South Wales.—A general statement is not sufficient, for the winds vary much at different places; but taking the colony as a whole, its prevailing winds come from some point between north-west and south-west, and hence the dry climate. In Sydney no less than 39.6 per cent. of the wind comes from this quarter. The winds known as southerly bursters are generally to be expected from November to the end of February; they are always attended with strong electrical excitement, a stream of sparks being sometimes produced for an hour at the electrometer. The approach of the true burster is indicated by a peculiar roll of clouds, which, when once seen, cannot be mistaken. It is just above the South horizon, and extends on either side of it 15 degrees or 20 degrees, and looks as if a thin sheet of cloud were being rolled up like a scroll by the advancing wind. The change of wind is sometimes very sudden; it may be fresh N.E. and in ten minutes a gale from S. Hence vessels not on the look-out are sometimes caught unprepared, and suffer accordingly. When a southerly wind commences anywhere south of Sydney it is at once telegraphed to its principal coast towns, and a signal put up indicating its approach. As to the hot winds, they are so insignificant in number that it cannot be said they play any particular ROLE. Their effect is to raise the temperature, because they flow from the heated interior of Australia; but they do not last long. and for the majority of people are dry, healthy winds. Indeed, they are by no means so oppressive as the warm north-east wind, so charged with moisture, which comes in the summer.
Victoria.—In summer the N. winds blow to the extent of 8 per cent., the S.W. winds 24.1 per cent., and the S. winds 201 per cent. Northerly, or warm-quarter winds, in summer are 20 per cent., and southerly, or cool-quarter winds, 64 per cent. The northerly winds in winter, however, are bleak and cold, like easterly winds in England. The particular ROLE played by the hot wind is to precede a cyclonic movement, and is always in front of a low pressure area or V-shaped depression. It is frequently followed by thunderstorms and rain of short duration. It dries the surface and raises dust storms when strong. So far as its effects on the people are concerned, it does not appear to hinder the ordinary occupations of life. Some invalids are better during its continuance, some worse; but all weakly people feel some depression after "the change" comes. The aged are generally better in hot winds, unless they suffer from disease.
South Australia.—As far as the southern regions of the colony are concerned, we may say, speaking generally, that light winds and calms are a very distinctive characteristic. The prevailing wind in the summer is the S.E., varied by sea-breezes during the day. In the winter there are mostly dry, cold N.E. winds, broken at intervals by westerly and S.W. gales of moderate strength, squalls, and rain. The best and heaviest rainfalls are those which set in with the surface winds at N.E., the rain increasing in intensity as the wind veers to N.W., and breaking up into showers and squalls as it veers to S.W. In the interior, north of, say, latitude 30 degrees to about 18 degreess., the prevailing wind all the year is the S.E. North of latitude 18 degrees to the north coast the country is well within the influence of the north-nest monsoon during the summer months, with frequent thunderstorms and heavy rains; and during, the winter dry S.E. winds prevail.
Queensland.—Eastern Queensland (or rather the Pacific Slope) is very seldom troubled with hot winds. The hot winds of "continental" Queensland are always very dry, and are usually accompanied by dust storms.
CHAPTER II.
THE ALPHABETICAL PENTAGON OF HEALTH FOR AUSTRALIA.
A few introductory remarks on this subject will serve a useful purpose. It will be seen that I have referred to the alphabetical pentagon of health—which is purely a provisional arrangement of my own. It consists of five headings, which fall naturally into alphabetical order. They are best considered, therefore, in the following way, namely:
* (a) Ablution—the Skin and the Bath. * * (b) Bedroom Ventilation. * * (c) Clothing. * * (d) Diet. * * (e) Exercise. *
This is a convenient method of remembering the five great fundamental principles concerned in the preservation of health. It will serve, moreover, as a means of impressing them upon the memory, superior to any other with which I am acquainted.
This very number five, indeed, has a more than ordinary significance belonging to itself. It has been termed a mystical number. "Five," says Pythagoras, "has peculiar force in expiations. It is everything. It stops the power of poisons and is redoubted by evil spirits." According to the Pythagorean school of philosophy, the world is a piece of harmony and man the full chord. The major chord consists of a fundamental or tonic, its major third and its just fifth. The eighth note, or complement of the octave, is the diapason of man. These are of course very highly imaginative speculations. It is interesting to remember, however, that the system of astronomy first taught by Pythagoras was afterwards developed into the solar system by Copernicus, and is now received as the Copernican system. But, turning from grave to gay, we find that five wits have been described, viz., common sense, imagination, fantasy, estimation, and memory. Of these, common sense passes judgment on all things; imagination brings the mind to realise what comes before it; fantasy stimulates the mind to act; estimation has to do with all that pertains to time, space, locality, etc.; and memory is "the warder of the brain." Then again, have we not also the five senses of seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, and tasting? Have we not likewise five fingers and five toes on either hand and foot? Moreover, is not fives an ancient and hollowed game, still popular wherever the English language is spoken, and is not its name derived from its being played with the "bunch of FIVES," namely the hand? And further, there must be numbers of Australians who know well what "five-corners" are. In addition to the foregoing, the number five has an important historical and legal association in connection with the Code Napoleon. Prior to Napoleon's time, different ways and customs prevailed in different parts of France, and altogether legal matters were in a chaotic state. It was greatly to his credit, therefore that he recognised the necessity for the entire alteration and remodelling of the whole system. But what was more striking than the recognition of the existing, defects was the speediness with which they were rectified, for the CODE NAPOLEON was devised and actually in operation between 1804 and 1810.
It consisted of FIVE parts, namely the "Code Civil," dealing with the main body of the private law; the "Code de Procedure Civile"; the "Code de Commerce," dealing with the laws relating to commercial affairs; the "Code d'Instruction Criminelle "; and finally, the "Code Penal." It is recorded that Napoleon was prouder of this than of his victories. "I shall go down to posterity," he said, "with my Code in my hand." The best proof of its excellence is that to-day it remains in force as the law of France (though it has been re-christened the "Code Civil" under the Republic), and that it has been the model for many Continental Codes, notably Belgium, Italy, and Greece.
But, leaving, these references to the many associations attached to the number five, it must not be supposed that my desire is to make people unnecessarily timorous about themselves on the score of health. This is certainly not my intention, for such a frame of mind would defeat the very object I have in view. Yet there still remains the fact that a little rational attention is indispensable if the vigour of the body is to be maintained at its best. There is a very great difference between carefulness carried to extremes in this respect, on the one head, and a heedlessness and total disregard of personal health, on the other. The golden mean between these two is the proper knowledge of what is required for the preservation of health, and so much conformity thereto as will give the best results. And yet it must be remembered that no cast-iron code can be laid down which would be applicable to one and all. No; idiosyncrasy, that personal peculiarity which makes each individual different from every one else, is too potent a factor to be ignored. In matters of this kind, each one, to a certain extent, is a law unto himself, and, consequently, what agrees and what disagrees is only discoverable by the individual concerned. In what follows, therefore, I have endeavoured to lay down rules for guidance which will be beneficial to by far the greatest number; although this element of the EGO must never be forgotten.
CHAPTER III.
ABLUTION—THE SKIN AND THE BATH.
It has been estimated that the external skin of an ordinary adult is equal to an area of about twelve square feet, and that in a tall man it may be as much as eighteen square feet. There is a considerable difference between twelve square feet and twelve feet square, and it is well to mention the fact in order that there may be no confusion. From this large surface alone, therefore, it is quite easy to see that the skin requires to have some attention paid to it. But it is really far more important than even its extensive surface would be likely to indicate, for it fulfils no less than seven different duties. In the first place it serves as an external covering to the body, and, as we shall see also, the internal skin acts as a support to the internal organs. Secondly, it is endowed with an extensive system of nerves, which give rise to the sensations of touch, of temperature, of pressure, and of pain. In this way we can tell whether a substance is rough or smooth, and whether it is hot or cold; we recognise, moreover, the difference between a gentle pressure of the hand and one so forcible as to cause pain. Thirdly, the skin, as we shall find farther on, contains thousands of small tubes for the purposes of perspiration, and besides this, there are other tubes secreting, an oily substance. Fourthly, the skin plays an important part in regulating the temperature of the body. Thus in a warm atmosphere the skin becomes reddened and moist, and much heat is lost; on the other hand, when the air is colder the skin becomes pale, cool, and dry, thus conserving the body heat. Fifthly, the respiratory action of the skin must not be forgotten, although it is nothing like so great as that of the lungs. Nevertheless quite an appreciable amount of oxygen is absorbed through the skin, and beyond all question carbonic acid is exhaled from it. Sixthly, it is an absorbent; that is to say, the skin is capable of absorbing into the body certain substances applied to it. In this way remedies are often introduced into the system by what is known as inunction. And lastly, the skin is a great emunctory, and carries off waste matters from the body. Accordingly it acts as a purifier of the blood, in which it assists the kidneys, intestines, and the lungs. And more than this, it often happens that the turning point in any disease is announced by a sudden, profuse, and markedly offensive perspiration, as if a considerable amount of deleterious and noxious matter has suddenly expelled from the system.
From the foregoing it is evident that the skin has many varied and important duties to perform. As we might expect, moreover, an organ with such functions is of complicated structure. Its component parts, therefore, deserve to have some little attention paid to them, since the importance of the skin from a health point of view will then be all the more appreciated. The skin is most conveniently considered under three divisions—the skin itself; the glands, producing perspiration, oil, and hair, which are found within it; and the appendages belonging to it, the hair and the nails. The skin itself may be described as the soft and elastic tissue which invests the whole of the surface of the body, and consists of two layers, the outer or scarf skin, and the deeper or true skin. The interior of the body is likewise lined with a covering, which is termed mucous membrane, from the fact that from its surface, or from certain special glands within it, or from both, there is constantly being secreted a thin semi-transparent fluid called mucus. At the various openings of the body, as the mouth, the nostrils, and other parts, the external and internal skins are continuous with one another. Indeed, at these apertures the mucous membrane, or internal skin, takes leave of absence from the world to line the cavities within the body. So that, as Professor Huxley expresses it, "every part of the body might be said to be contained within the walls of a double bag, formed by the skin which invests the outside of the body, and the mucous membrane, its continuation, which lines the internal cavities."
The use of the scarf skin is manifestly to protect the more delicate true skin, while at the same time it allows the waste products and used-up material to escape from the body. In the substance of the true skin are thousands of minute little bodies called papillae, which are specially concerned in the sense of touch, for the vast majority of these papillae contain the end of a small nerve. The numberless fine ridges seen on the palmar surface of the hands and fingers, and on the soles of the feet, are really rows of these papillae, covered of course by the layers of the outer skin. The supply of blood to the skin is also very plenteous, each of its innumerable papillae being abundantly supplied in this respect. As a proof of the amount of blood circulating within the skin, and of its extensive nerve supply, it is only necessary to mention the fact that the finest needle cannot be passed into it without drawing blood and inflicting-pain. In addition to the foregoing the skin also contains a countless number of very fine tubes, which penetrate through its layers and open on its surfaces by minute openings called pores. There are altogether three different varieties of these tubes distributed throughout the skin, namely, those intended for perspiration; secondly, those which lead from the oil glands; and lastly, those which enclose each hair of the body. The first of these, which carry away the perspiration from the body, are very fine, the end away from the surface being coiled up in such a way as to form a ball or oval-shaped body, constituting the perspiration gland. The tube itself is also twisted like a corkscrew, and widens at its mouth. It is estimated that there are between 2,000 and 3,000 of these perspiration tubes in every square inch of the skin. Now, as we have already seen, the external skin of an ordinary adult is equal to an area of about twelve square feet, and in a tall person it may be as much as eighteen square feet. The number of these tubes, therefore, in the whole body will be many hundreds of thousands, so that it will readily be seen how exceedingly important it is that they should be kept in thorough working order by cleanliness. The two great purposes fulfilled by the perspiration are the removal by its means of worn-out or effete material which is injurious to the system, and the regulation of the heat of the body by its influence. When it is stopped by any reason, such as catarrh or disease, the skin fails in its work, and the noxious matters, instead of being expelled from the body, are thrown back into the system. Hence there is a good deal of truth in the belief that a freely acting skin is always a safeguard against disease.
The second variety of tubes, those which furnish an oily-like fluid to the skin, resemble in—great part those which serve for the office of perspiration. At the extremity away from the surface of the body, each one has a gland, the oil gland, which secretes the oily material. The pores or outlets which open on the skin, however, are a good deal larger than the similar orifices of the perspiratory tubes, but they are not distributed so equally throughout the body. In certain parts of the skin they are especially numerous, as on the nose, head, ears, and back of the shoulders. The unctuous matter which is secreted by these oil glands is intended to keep the skin moist and pliant, to prevent the too rapid evaporation of moisture from the surface, and to act as a lubricant where the folds of the skin are in contact with each other. At times in these oil tubes the contents extend to the opening on its surface; the part in contact with the air then becomes darkened, and forms the little black spots so frequently seen on the face of some persons. The white, greasy matter which is thus contained within the tubes can often be squeezed out with the fingers or a watch key, and on account of its shape and black end is popularly supposed to be a grub or maggot.
The tube into which each hair of the body is inserted differs materially from the two preceding, in that its function is more restricted. It serves to form a sort of sheath which contains each hair, and is called the hair follicle. Usually one of the last described ducts opens directly on the side of the hair follicle, and its secretion serves the purpose of keeping the hair pliant. It will be more convenient, however, to enter into a fuller description of the hair and hair follicle when be come to speak of the hair, the nails, and the teeth.
Having thus gained some knowledge of the structure of the skin, and of its delicate formation, it will be the more readily understood why strict attention to the bath is necessary to produce a healthy frame. There is a continual new growth of scarf skin going on, and there are likewise the secretions from the perspiration ducts and oil tubes being poured forth. The outer skin which has served its purpose is being incessantly cast off in the—form of whitish looking powder, but instead of being thrown clear from the body it clings to it and becomes entangled with the perspiration and oily material, thus forming an impediment to the free action of the skin. If the pores of the latter be obstructed and occluded in this manner, the impurities which should be removed from the system cannot escape, and have therefore to be expelled by some other channel. Hence the work of removing this impure and deleterious material is thrown upon the liver, bowels, or kidneys, and often results in their disease. In our warm climate, where the skin acts more freely than it does in colder latitudes, the use of the bath is certainly indispensable, if the health of the body is to be maintained at all.
The cold bath, at any rate during the summer months, should always be there before breakfast, but in the cooler part of the year the shock may be lessened, if it be desirable, by using tepid water instead of cold. And since there is, as we have seen, a good deal of oily matter excreted by the skin, it becomes necessary to use something in addition to water for cleansing purposes, for the latter is unable to displace the greasy collection by itself. The only thing which will render it easy of removal is soap, as by its action it softens the oily material and dislodges it from the skin. Soap has acquired an evil reputation which it certainly does not deserve, and if it disagrees it is either due to the fact of its being an inferior article, or else the skin itself must be at fault. The best soap to use is the white, not the mottled, Castile, as it is made from pure olive oil. By the proper and judicious use of soap the skin is kept soft and natural, and the complexion is maintained in the hue of health.
Even in the matter of washing the face, there is a right way and a wrong way of doing it. The basin should be moderately filled with water and the face dipped into it, and then the hands. The latter are to be next well lathered with soap, and gently rubbed all over the face, following into the different depressions, such as the inner corners of the eyes and behind the ears. It is quite a mistake, however, to apply the lather to the inside of the ears, as it seems to favour the formation of wax; the different depressions and canal of the ears can be very well cleaned by means of the finger tips moistened with water. The face is then to be dipped into the water a second time and thoroughly rinsed, but it is better to pour away the soapy water for the rinsing. Many people apply the soap to the face by means of a sponge or bit of flannel, and do not wash the soap thoroughly off with fresh water before drying with a towel. The hands unquestionably make the softest and most delicate means of bringing the lather completely into contact with the surface of the skin and, besides this, the amount of pressure to be applied can also be regulated to a nicety. The face and neck should always be carefully and thoroughly dried by means of a suitable towel. But for the ears something of a softer material, such as a clean handkerchief, is more convenient in following out the various hollows and the canal itself.
Many houses, and fairly sized houses too, are destitute of a bath, and if there is no room for the erection of one, or if the means for having it built are not forthcoming, it becomes necessary to see what cheap and efficient substitute can be made. A sponge bath, or large tub, with a bucket of water and a good-sized sponge, can readily be obtained, even in the most humble dwelling, and answers as well as can be wished. When the body is simply sponged over with tepid water it makes one of the mildest baths that can be taken; but those who are in ordinary health can well lather them selves over with soap and cold water, and then wash it off with some squeezes of the sponge copiously wetted with the water.
Next in order to the sponge bath comes the plunge bath, and with either of them the face should always be washed first, in the manner previously directed, so as to prevent a rush of blood to the head. In taking a bath, whether it be the sponge or the plunge bath, plenty of water should always be dashed over the front of the chest, for it makes one hardier and less susceptible to the effects of cold. In fact, besides acting as a preventive to attacks of common cold, it really strengthens the lungs, and renders the body more capable of resisting disease. If in addition a little cold water is habitually sniffed up the nostrils at the time of taking the bath it will have many a cold in the head. After coming out of the bath the towels should always be used to thoroughly dry the body, and it is certainly better to have two for the purpose. The two towels should be sufficiently large in size, at least five feet in length and of ample width; anything smaller is altogether useless. One of them should be of some soft absorbing material so as to thoroughly dry the body, while the other should be rougher, to use with friction to the skin. In fact, this rubbing down with the rougher towel is in some respects the most important part of the bath, and there should always be enough friction to get the skin into a glow. If there is not this feeling of reaction, but a decided chilliness, it is a sure sign that the bath is not agreeing, and one with tepid water must be substituted, or else it will have to be stopped altogether for a time.
But although there may be a certain proportion of people whom the cold bath does not benefit, yet I am fully convinced that the number is comparatively speaking small. A good many make the excuse that they cannot take it, while all the time laziness is the real trouble. Once the advantages derived from the cold bath are experienced, all the objections raised vanish into thin air. Not only is there that feeling of exhilaration which abides with those who habitually employ it, but it is to be remembered that its greatest value consists in the immunity which it confers against diseases of the catarrhal type. The effect of the cold bath is to give tone to the whole system, and to brace up the body. But it does more than this; by maintaining the functional activity of the skin, the liability to catch cold is greatly lessened. There are many explanations given of the phenomena which occur in "taking cold." They are believed, however, to arise from a disturbance of the heat-producing forces of the body. As it has been already pointed out, the skin is the great temperature-regulator of the body. Accordingly this latter all-important duty is best promoted by keeping the functional activity of the skin in full swing. The prevention of catarrh means, therefore, a healthy action of the skin, and for this nothing is so good as the daily cold bath. The praises of the latter are well sung in the following extract: "Those who desire to pass the short time of life in good health ought often to use cold bathing, for I call scarce express in words how much benefit may be had by cold baths; for they who use them, although almost spent with old age, have a strong and compact pulse and a florid colour in their face, they are very active and strong, their appetite and digestion are vigorous, their senses are perfect and exact, and, in one word, they have all their natural actions well performed."
The beneficial effects which follow the daily cold bath have been thus dwelt upon because I believe that in Australia the greatest good to the greatest number would follow its use. At the same time, however, it is necessary to remember that there are some persons, and some even apparently robust persons, who can never take them. Such baths, also, are injurious to those who are pale and bloodless, or those who suffer from a tendency to congestion of the internal organs—excepting under medical advice. And, in addition, it must also be remembered that warm baths have claims for consideration from a cleansing point of view, and a few words upon them in this respect will not be thrown away. Now, the daily use of the cold bath, together with the assiduous application of soap, may be sufficient to keep the skin cleansed from impurities. Yet as a matter of fact this will the more certainly be ensured by a weekly —or, better still, bi-weekly—warm cleansing bath. The best time to take it is before bedtime, so that there is no risk of taking a chill afterwards. After the body has been well lathered over with soap, and this has been thoroughly washed off, the cleansing process may be then considered as completed. It is next recommended that two handsful of common salt should be added to the warm water, and the body steeped therein for a minute or two. The particles of salt pass into the skin so firmly that they cannot be removed even by the most vigorous rubbing. In this way the functions of the skin are stimulated to a considerable degree; the process of nutrition throughout the body greatly promoted; and the liver roused to action. From this it is easy to understand why hot sea-water baths are so beneficial.
There is another effect of the warm bath which deserves to be well remembered, for it has an historical association. It is related of the great Napoleon, that after a day's fighting, instead of indulging in a night's rest, he would take a warm bath. It was so efficacious that he was enabled to begin his exertions almost immediately. The explanation of this lies in the fact that when the mascles are tired out and the vigour of the body diminished, the hot bath rouses the circulation and renews the worn-out tissues. In the same way, after a night's dancing, twenty minutes or so in a warm bath, and a couple of hours' sleep, will be almost as good as a whole night's rest. In addition to the foregoing, however, it must not be forgotten that the warm bath, or to speak more correctly the hot bath, is a true medicinal agent. It is used in many cases of disease, especially those in which the skin is inactive. A feverish cold is often nipped in the bud by a hot bath at bedtime; a free perspiration usually follows, and thus relief is obtained. In some forms of rheumatism and gout, too, the hot bath is of signal benefit. There are many cases of a spasmodic nature, also, in which it is of great value. At the same time it must be borne in mind that the hot bath, when used to an excess, tends to induce a debilitated condition.
THE HAIR.
The loss of hair is so frequent in Australia, at least amongst the male population, that it requires a little consideration; and apart altogether from this, the whole subject is one of extreme interest, so that some reference to the actual structure of the hair and the hair-follicles is called for. The roots of the hair are formed in the hair-follicles, which may be described as little pear-shaped bags, formed either in the true skin or in the cellular tissue beneath it. Each hair-follicle, hair-sac, or hair-pit, as it is variously termed, bulges out at its deeper part, contracting to a long narrow neck as it passes to its skin. Near the surface of the latter the follicle widens out again, and it is from this part that the hair emerges. As it has been previously mentioned, a duct from one of the oil glands usually opens into each follicle. At its very bottom, also, is the papillae or little mound-like elevation. This protrudes into the follicle, and from it the hair is formed.
The blood supply for the hair is very abundant. There is a complete system of blood vessels encircling every one of the follicles, and besides this each papilla has a special distribution of blood to itself. That part of the hair lying within the hair-follicle is called the root. The lower end of the root, which swells out into a knob, named the bulb, is concave in shape underneath, so as to fit on top of the projecting papilla. The shaft is the long stem of the hair, while its extreme end is termed the point.
By the aid of the microscope it may be seen that the hair itself on the outside is covered by a layer of scales—the cuticle—overlapping one another like the tiles on the roof of a house. Beneath the cuticle is the fibrous part, consisting of many cells closely packed together. In many instances the fibrous part takes up the whole interior, but in the centre of the coarser hair there is the medulla or pith, composed of very minute cells. From this it follows that the hair is not a narrow tube, as is commonly supposed. This mistake has arisen from the fact that, when viewed transversely, the colour of the central and outer part of the hair is different.
Having in this way become acquainted with the actual structure of the hair and of the hair-follicles, it will be desirable to consider somewhat briefly the management of the former. We have already seen that the skin requires a good deal of attention in order to ensure the perfection of bodily health. And although the hair does not fulfil such an important function, yet, on the other hand, it must not be neglected. Even on the score of appearance alone, it has much claim for attention. Many people would be vastly improved in this way were they only to visit their hairdresser more frequently. It is very unsightly, to say the least of it, to see the hair straggling all over the back and sides of the neck, and the beard (if a beard be worn) with a wild, untidy look. Besides this, in our semi-tropical climate, a little more care in this respect would be certainly conducive to coolness and comfort.
But in addition to these considerations, there is another very cogent reason why the hair should be more often attended to; and it is the fact that if it be kept of an ordinary length, somewhat frequent cutting promotes its growth. There is more than one reason given as an explanation of this; indeed, there are at least three. In the first place, the shorter the hair the less it is dragged on in its roots; secondly, its roots are prevented from becoming blocked at the mouth of the hair-follicles—and lastly, the weight of the hair is considerably lessened. From this it will be obvious that it is not the actual cutting of the hair in itself which is so beneficial in invigorating its growth, but that, by reason of the cutting, certain results follow which strengthen it greatly.
We have just seen that the accumulations of DEBRIS and other material at the roots of the hair are prejudicial to its growth. It must not be inferred from this, however, that incessant washing of the scalp, by removing these collections, is a good thing. Now, it is advised by some that the hair should be wetted daily at the same time the bath is taken. But as a general rule this is a mistake; only those who have a superabundance of natural oil can afford to carry out such a practice. With the great majority of people it is absolutely detrimental to the growth of the hair to wash it oftener than once a week. After washing the head, the hair should be thoroughly dried. Many attacks of neuralgia, especially in the fair sex, are due to the effect of getting into a draught while the hair is still wet.
There are several points to be borne in mind in connection with the growth and preservation of the hair. With many persons the scalp is very tender and will not tolerate vigorous brushing. In such instances the brush should always be a soft one; indeed, a hard brush cannot be recommended under any circumstances. The teeth of the comb, also, should never be so sharp as to irritate the scalp, nor should they be set too closely together. A certain amount of brushing is necessary to keep the scalp and hair in healthy action, but it must never be carried to excess. Singeing the hair is greatly believed in by a number of people, and in some cases it appears to be of benefit. Many believe that singeing seals up the cut ends of the hair, which they affirm bleed when cut. This has no foundation in fact, however, for, as it has already been explained, the hair is not a tube. A hard, unyielding covering for the head is not at all suitable; the lighter and more ventilated the head-gear the better. But, the truth is, a sensible and suitable head-covering for Australian use has yet to be devised. Thinning of the hair, and even actual baldness, are not unfrequently started by the hard rim of the hat employed. This mechanically interferes with the supply of blood to the scalp, and thus it is that the crown suffers most in this respect, since it is the more starved of blood.
As I have previously shown, the hair often suffers from want of natural oil. The investigations of Liebreich have shown that this is closely allied to lanolin, which is the purified fat of sheep's wool. Moreover, it has been found that this lanolin is the very best substitute for the former. It is, however, too sticky to be used alone as a pomade. Accordingly, Dr. Allan Jamieson, of Edinburgh, a very high authority on diseases of the skin and hair, advises that it should be mixed with oil of sesame in the following proportions:
Oil of sesame….1 drachm.
Lanolin……….2 ounces.
This may be conveniently perfumed with a few drops of oil of bergamot, oil of orange blossom, or oil of rosemary. For the preservation of the hair, therefore, it should be trimmed short; the scalp kept clean, but not overwashed; and the hair, if naturally dry, lubricated by the foregoing pomade. These must be supplemented, also, by taking care that the head-covering is not too heating, that the rim of the hat is not too hard, and that irritation of the scalp by hard brushes and fine combs is strictly avoided.
If the thinning of the hair has progressed to a more advanced stage, other measures will have to be adopted. The most useful application which I know of to restore growth is the following. It is a formula given by Messrs. Squire, the well-known chemists of London, and has had an immense sale extending over many years.
Cantharidine (the best) 1 grain.
Acetic ether 6 drachms.
These are to be dissolved together; then add;
Rectified spirit 3 ounces.
Castor oil 1 ounce.
As with the pomade, this is best perfumed by the addition of about 20 or 30 drops of oil of bergamot, oil of lavender, oil of orange flower, or oil of rosemary, as fancy dictates. The bottle should be kept tightly corked, and a little of the preparation rubbed well into the hair-roots daily. If it create any irritation after two or three days' use, it is best to wash the scalp with a little warm water and soap. The pomade which has been recommended may be afterwards employed for two or three days till the irritation has subsided, when the application may be renewed. A better plan still is, from the first, to use the hair restorer on one day, and the pomade on the next, alternately. This foregoing application is of course not infallible, but it will be found to do more good in a greater number of cases than any known preparation.
THE NAILS
From the fact that the nails are in reality appendages of the skin, they are naturally entitled to some brief consideration. Beneath the nail is the matrix, that part of the true skin from which the nail is formed. The matrix has not a perfectly smooth surface, but is arranged in 8 scries of parallel ridges with alternating grooves. The nail is of a rosy pink colour, because it is transparent enough to let the blood, circulating beneath, be seen through it. Near the root is a little crescentric-shaped white portion called the lunula. The growth of the nail takes place from below. It cannot grow backwards, since it is confined in a groove. But as the fresh cells form they gradually thrust the whole nail forward, till at last it requires paring. As a matter of fact, however, the nails really require more attention than they usually receive. The finger nails should be trimmed into a bow shape, and the corners rounded off, while the skin near the root of the nail, which tends to grow over the lunula, should be repressed into position by means of any suitable appliance. On the contrary, those of the feet should be cut squarish in shape, with a hollowed-out centre, so as to prevent the nail from ingrowing.
THE TEETH
It is not my purpose to enter fully into all the details concerning the teeth, but there are one or two matters of great importance connected with them which require a few words. There are many people, beginning to get on in years, perhaps, who have had the misfortune to lose many of their teeth. The first thing that happens is an inability to masticate their food; and, before long, indigestion sets in, with all the evils attendant on its train. These unfortunates know that they have indigestion; the pain and discomfort after food tell them that. They do not know, however, that all their sufferings arise solely from their want of teeth. They begin to lose flesh, and get altogether in a bad way. But if they can be induced to apply to a competent and skilful dental surgeon, they are properly fitted with what they require, and the consequence is their sufferings almost immediately cease. They begin to enjoy their food, and before long their whole appearance is transformed into one of health. In the opinion of all dental authorities, when the natural teeth are lost, artificial substitutes unquestionably conduce to health and comfort.
It is quite deplorable to see what little interest people take in the preservation of their teeth; even those who should know better are in too many instances quite as neglectful. But the teeth play a very important part in the thorough division of food, and if this be not ensured the health is bound to suffer. They should be kept scrupulously clean, therefore, and the formation of tartar prevented.
These two objects are best accomplished by their thorough cleansing with a moderately stiff brush. Too soft a brush is insufficient for the purposes of removing the accumulations which collect upon the teeth. A tooth-powder or dentifrice of some kind will also be required. One of the simplest, and possibly also one of the very best, is composed of the following:
Powdered borax 1/2 an ounce.
Powdered orris root 1 ounce.
Powdered white Castile soap 1/4 of an ounce.
Precipitated chalk 3 ounces.
Oil of cloves 2 drops.
Oil of winter green 1/2 an ounce.
This leaves nothing to be desired, and will be found satisfactory in every respect.
It is customary to dip the tooth-brush into water, so as the better to enable it to take up the dentifrice. But it will be found an advantage if, after dipping the brush into water, it then be rubbed once or twice over a piece of white Castile soap. It will by this means pick up a larger amount of the powder. The teeth should be attended to after each meal, although cleansing them the last thing at night is an important duty, never on any account to be neglected. It must not be imagined, however, that even the foregoing is sufficient. Particles of food, which the brush fails to remove, collect between the teeth, and, if allowed to remain, ultimately lead on to decay. This is most likely to occur when the teeth are crowded close together in the jaw. But under all circumstances, whether the teeth be closely set together, or whether they be more widely apart, a piece of floss silk should be passed between them daily, so as to remove any adherent particles, and at the same time to thoroughly cleanse the sides of the teeth.
CHAPTER IV.
BEDROOM VENTILATION
Now, if all houses were built in accordance with the requirements of modern sanitary ideas, there would be but little difficulty in grappling with the problem of bedroom ventilation, for the sleeping apartment would be a well ventilated room, with all the latest contrivances, such as Tobin's ventilators, for the admission of fresh air. But as the greater number of people have to live in rented dwellings in which the rooms are very small, it becomes necessary to know what can be done to remedy existing defects. In the first place the bedroom should always be upstairs if possible; it is decidedly healthier, and there is a better chance for the supply of fresh air. The very worst room in the house that could be chosen for a sleeping apartment would be one on the basement. Then again, a fireplace in the bedroom is a priceless boon, and it is almost impossible to rectify such a deficiency. But as too many rooms are built without it, we are compelled to look to the window for our air supply. It is estimated that nearly one-third of every person's life is devoted to sleep; that is to say, about one-third of it is spent in the sleeping apartment. It is only natural, then, that this room and its surroundings should merit some special attention. As a matter of fact, from a health point of view, it should receive more consideration than all the rest of the house put together, for during our waking hours; we are moving about and constantly changing our location; but during sleep, when life is in abeyance to a certain extent, the system has passively to receive and be supported by whatever pure air the bedroom happens to possess. If, as too often is the case, that chamber is looked upon as a sort of cupboard, where, amongst other things, there is room for a bed, so much the worse for any one who has to sleep there. If the sleeper arises in the morning in a dazed and semi-suffocated state and quite unfitted for the day's work before him, instead of feeling refreshed, there is no occasion to seek far for the cause. For the mental toiler, also, it is equally important that the period devoted to the restoration of brain material and the imbibition of a fresh supply of nerve power for the ensuing day's requirements should be passed under circumstances the most favourable for bestowing them.
From this we see that a due amount of sleep, under favourable circumstances as regards ventilation, is necessary both for brain and muscle; and that, in fact, unless it be forthcoming, there will be an inability for either brain worker or muscle user to properly fulfil his duties next day. But in addition to this there is still the fact that we have to do with the semi-tropical climate of Australia. It will be as well, therefore, to make reference to what has been said on the subject as far as India is concerned. Sir Joseph Fayrer, whose opinion on such matters must always carry respect, in the course of an address on the preservation of health in that country, went on to say: "It is very important that you have good sleep, for nothing in the hot weather more refreshes or invigorates you. Early rising is the rule in India, and I advise you to conform to the usual practice."
Sir James Ranald Martin, another authority on Indian affairs, in commenting on the prevention of disease, also calls attention to the need for extra sleep, which is always required in hot climates. He points out that by giving the frame a thorough and complete rest from the great stimulus of heat, both tone and vigour are imparted— providing for the requirements of the coming day, as well as repairing those of the preceding. The general truths contained in the foregoing apply equally to Australia, and during the hot summer months, therefore, it must not be forgotten that an extra allowance of sleep is quite indispensable.
In a great many cases the space under the bed is regarded as an admirable receptacle for a collection of boxes, parcels, hat-boxes, old boots, and other interesting relics, while they are effectually concealed from view by a species of curtain reaching from the bed to the floor. The drapery which thus hangs down is dignified by the name of a "valance," and though originally intended for the purpose of embellishment and ornamentation, it is better that decorative art should be more limited in its application, so as not to interfere with the free circulation of air throughout the room. The sleeping apartment is also considered as being particularly well adapted for the storage of old clothes, and consequently garments of this description are not hidden away, nor furtively concealed, but are triumphantly exposed to gaze in various parts of the room. Indeed, the more obtrusive they are, the better the purpose of the bedroom is believed to be served. If it could be only understood how these unnecessarily occupy the air space of the room, and interfere with its ventilation, this sort of thing would never be tolerated for a moment.
And while on the subject of the accumulation of useless articles in a bedroom, it seems fitting here to devote a few words to another kindred matter, namely, the hoarding up throughout the house of what may literally be designated as lumber. It is astonishing what a number of utterly valueless things are allowed to remain in nearly every household, and it is well remarked that no one ever knows what a collection of rubbish he possesses till he has occasion to remove. There may not be much to be ashamed of in the first load or two of furniture, but at the latter end there is a strong feeling that a dark night would be more adapted for moving—the darker the better. At least every twelve months there should be a regular clearance of worn-out articles, and that miscellaneous collection of odds and ends which can be of no earthly value to anybody, unless he be an antiquary.
Let us now go on to consider what ill effects result from the breathing of vitiated air. In his work, A Manual of Practical Hygiene, Professor Edmund A. Parkes has pointed out: "When air moderately vitiated by respiration is breathed for any period and continuously, its effects become complicated with those of other conditions. But allowing the fullest effect to all other agencies, there is no doubt that the breathing of the vitiated atmosphere of respiration has a most injurious result on the health. The aeration and nutrition of the blood seems to be interfered with, and the general tone of the system falls below par. Of special diseases it appears pretty clear that affections of the lungs are more common." The volume of air inhaled and exhaled by the adult in the twenty-four hours averages 360 cubic feet, or 2,000 gallons, while the amount we take in the shape of liquid or solid food does not amount probably to more than 5 1/2 pints, which is equal to only 1-3000th part of the volume of air passed through the lungs. From this it will be seen how necessary it is that such a large amount of air should be perfectly fresh and wholesome, for the lungs act as a pair of immense sponges or absorbers. When the ventilation does not allow of a continuous supply of fresh air it smells close, and is surcharged with an increased amount of carbonic acid, while the noxious exhalations from the breath and lungs deposit themselves throughout the room. Nor are the ill-effects of impure air confined to man alone, for it is well known that cows, horses, sheep, and other animals, when penned up in close quarters, show an increased death-rate from many diseases.
But though it is perfectly plain that badly ventilated sleeping apartments tend greatly to the production of diseases of the lungs, it is not generally understood by the greater number of persons that diseases of the heart are brought on by similar conditions, and there is without doubt a great increase of heart diseases at the present time. It is estimated that upwards of 10,000 people in England alone die yearly from affections of the heart; yet, taking into consideration the ceaseless work of that organ (in the words of the motto upon Goethe's ring, "Ohne Rast"—without rest), it is wonderful that it is not more frequently diseased. It is said that "the heart is a small muscular organ weighing only a few ounces, beating perpetually day and night, morning and evening, summer and winter; and yet often an old man's heart nearly a hundred years of age is as perfect and complete as when he was a young man of twenty" (Haughton).
The effect of impure air in its action on the heart is thus spoken of by Dr. Cornelius Black: "I showed the effect of impure air in promoting the degenerative tendency in the structures of the heart, and especially those of the right side of the heart, after the age of forty. I was then led to a passing consideration of the baneful influence produced upon the heart by badly-ventilated houses, schools, manufactories, pits, theatres, underground railways, and all places of a similar character." "The impure atmosphere of the bedrooms of the poor, and indeed of many of the middle class, caused by deficient ventilation, proves a sharp spur to the degenerative tendency manifested by the heart, and especially by the right side of the heart, after the age of forty." "I hold that the breathing of impure air is a fruitful source of disease of the right side of the heart occurring after middle age. How many people ignorantly favour its occurrence by confining themselves to closely shut, non-ventilated, stuffy, sitting rooms, in which the carbonic acid has accumulated to a poisonous degree in the air they respire! How are these evil results to be prevented? The simple answer is, let the rooms in which you live be effectively ventilated by an incoming current of fresh air, and so arranged that no draught shall be felt."
Sanitarians who have devoted a good deal of time and study to the working out of questions relating to the amount of fresh air in bedrooms have decided that each person should, if possible, have at least 1,000 cubic feet of space, or in other words, the same amount contained in a room 10 feet long, 10 feet wide, and 10 feet high. It is also estimated that the amount of fresh air entering into a room of this size should be 3,000 cubic feet per hour, that is, the air in each room should be completely changed three times every hour. These observations of course apply only to the least amount of air which every sleeper is strictly entitled to. As a matter of fact, however, any more than this is simply of distinct advantage as far as health is concerned. The bedroom, instead of being the smallest room in the house, as it too often is, should be really the very largest. Now it has been previously stated that foul or vitiated air collects in a sleeping apartment unless there be a continuous circulation of fresh air; and that the noxious exhalations from the breath and skin constitute the chief sources of air pollution. The practical point to discover is how to have this continuous circulation of fresh air throughout the room without causing a draught. Before considering this, a few words on the position of the bed itself will possibly be appropriate. It is always better to have it standing more in the centre of the room with its head against the wall, than to have it jammed alongside the latter. And it certainly should have placed north and south if the shape of the room admits of it. The wire-wove mattress is of great advantage both for comfort and for coolness; and here in Australia, during the summer months, proper mosquito nettings are as necessary as the bed itself. If the bed is provided with a head-piece, as it should be, there is no difficulty in fitting on the netting.
Every bedroom window should be made to open freely, and what other defects exist—such as the smallness of the apartment, or the absence of a fireplace—can be remedied to a great extent by means of the window. In many instances the bed is placed so near the latter that when it is open there is a strong draught playing directly on the bed, and this is an evil which must be avoided. In such case, to rectify matters, raise the bottom window a few inches, and have a piece of board made to fit in under it, so as to support the sash and fill in the space between it and the sill. The air freely enters the room between the two sashes, because the top of the lower sash is by this contrivance raised above the lower part of the upper one. Another great advantage is that the air is directed upwards to the ceiling by having to come in over the lower sash, and thus a gentle current of fresh air is constantly being circulated throughout the room without creating any draught. There are other devices to attain the same end, such as having apertures cut in the glass of the windows, but they are not so effective, so inexpensive, nor so simple as the preceding. In bedrooms there are the long French windows leading on to a balcony, and where such is the case the air current can be regulated to a nicety by having only one of the window-doors open, and directing the ventilation away from the bed. Many people prefer to sleep with the door itself open, and by having a PORTIERE or certain suspended outside, privacy can be ensured, while an upright screen standing at the head of the bed will effectually ward off any cold currents of air. In our summer weather there is but little difficulty experienced in regulating the air supply, for there is generally a desire to have as much fresh air as possible. Far too many people, however, look upon the bedroom in the light of an oven, where they are to be baked during the hours of repose, and this is the case even during the summer. In the cooler parts of the year they are apt to forget there is just as much necessity for fresh air as in the warm months.
Soiled or dirty clothes should not on any account be allowed to remain in the sleeping apartments, as they are a constant source of foulness to the air. All unclean linen ready for the wash had better be kept away from the bedroom in one of those long baskets which stand upright and are furnished with a lid. They are admirably adapted for the purpose, and may be obtained for a few shillings from any of the institutions for the blind, where they are made by the inmates. A word of advice, by the way, to those about to travel on a long voyage, is never to forget one of those canvas bags for the soiled clothes: they are invaluable at sea.
CHAPTER V.
CLOTHING, AND WHAT TO WEAR.
It is worth considering somewhat minutely what are the requisites of perfect clothing, and what properties our different kinds of wearing apparel possess. Without doubt any reflection on the question of what is usually worn and what ought to be worn is not only of considerable interest generally, but of great moment likewise from a health point of view. It cannot be maintained too strongly that the question of the proper material for a suitable covering for the body takes a footing nearly equal to the very important one of diet itself. Now, there is no form of clothing which on its own account creates heat, or has the property of bestowing warmth upon the body, but the difference in it consists in its power of preventing the escape of the body heat. These qualities in the different varieties of wearing apparel will depend to a great extent upon the thickness of the materials, and also upon the varying power which they possess in detaining air within their meshes. It is this latter property of retaining the air, which is warmed by contact with the body, in their interstices, which constitutes the great difference in the various clothing materials. This is also an explanation of the well-known fact that loose garments are always warmer than tightly fitting ones, for in the former there is the layer of warm air in contact with the body, which has no opportunity for existing in the latter. In the same way two or three layers of under-garments will always be warmer than a single one, equal to their combined thickness, since there is a separate layer of air between each of the thinner ones.
All the differences in the various fabrics are due in chief part to the properties of heat. The ordinary or normal temperature of the human body is between 98 degrees and 99 degrees Fahrenheit, while that of the air will vary considerably, according to the climate and locality. Each individual, therefore, must be regarded as a material, though living, object which is enveloped in a surrounding atmosphere. As such, heat will conform to certain fixed laws in its relations to the two bodies. It is always a definite fact that when two bodies in contact with each other are of different temperatures, they tend to become of equal temperature. The warmer will part with its heat to the cooler, and the latter will in like manner reduce the temperature of the former. By covering, then, the surface of the body, it is prevented from giving its heat directly to the air, for the clothes intercept it by absorbing the heat themselves.
In the second place the clothes prevent a too rapid escape of heat from the body, and by keeping a layer of warm air in contact with the skin, they preserve the body heat. Again, the various materials used to clothe the body vary much as to the readiness with which they conduct heat; accordingly we speak of good and bad conductors of heat. A bad conductor, such as wool, will keep the heat of the body from escaping to the sir, and thus forms warm clothing, while a good conductor like cotton will lead away the heat quickly and prove cooler.
As said before, the texture of the material—that is, the size of its meshes—which allows air to pass more or less freely through it, also exercises a greater effect upon clothing. No healthy clothing is absolutely air-proof, the access of the air through it being necessary to our health and comfort. Thus oil-skin and mackintosh, which are air-tight as well as water-tight, make most people feel very uncomfortable.
In addition to their texture or permeability to air, and to their conducting or non-contracting powers, fabrics also vary according to their hygroscopic qualities. By hygroscopic is meant the power of absorbing moisture; thus a thin flannel is one of the coolest materials we can have, for it absorbs perspiration; while linen, which is non-hydroscopic, when moist allows the fluid to evaporate rapidly, and thus cools the body too quickly, and therefore dangerously. Hence flannel is a most suitable fabric in which to take exercise, as there is less danger of taking a chill.
There are four chief materials to be considered in connection with clothing, namely—cotton and linen, which belong to the vegetable kingdom, and silk and wool, which are obtained from the animal world. These four, either in their own form or else in combination with each other, such as merino, constitute most of our wearing apparel. Cotton is the fine, soft, downy material of a hairy nature which is found on the seeds of a certain plant, the cotton plant, which belongs to the mallow family. Its fibres are flattened in shape, and are twisted at intervals. The form of the fibres has an important effect in the action of cotton material on the skin. Being of a flattened shape, they have sharp edges, which in delicate skins are apt to cause irritation. Cotton wears well, it is not absorbent of moisture nearly to the same extent as linen, nor does it conduct away the heat of the body so quickly as the latter, hence it is a warmer material than linen. On the other hand, it does not retain the heat against the body like wool, and is an appropriate material for dress in hot climates. In merino there is a mixture of about one-fifth to one-half part of wool with cotton.
Linen, the other product of the vegetable kingdom, is obtained from the fibres of the common flax. Its fibres, unlike those of other fabrics, are distinguished by their roundness and their freedom from stiffness. These properties give to it that peculiar softness which makes it so agreeable to the feel, and comforting and soothing to the skin. But, on the other hand, it has certain characters which are a drawback. As was stated before, it differs from cotton in that it is cooler, but unfortunately it absorbs moisture from the body quickly, and becomes saturated with perspiration. This is removed so quickly by the action of the external air, causing rapid evaporation, that there is great danger of a chill.
The next material in alphabetical order is silk, and it is also the first product of the animal world to be considered. As is well known, it is obtained from the cocoon of the silk-worm. The fibres of this material are round in shape like those of linen, and they are even softer than the latter. On this account the phrase "as soft as silk" has passed into a saying. It is softer to the feel than either cotton or linen, and is a bad conductor of heat, as it has little tendency to remove the heat from the body. It is therefore a warmer material than either of them; but, on the other hand, from some peculiar action caused by the slightest friction against the skin, it seems at times to cause irritation, and draw the blood to the surface. In many instances the flow of blood is 80 severe as to set up an eruption of the skin, and there is often so much irritation and intolerable itching produced, that the garment has to be left off.
Last, but not least, of the quartette under consideration comes wool, and it is just one of those materials whose place it would be almost impossible to fill. It is obtained from the sheep, and is one of our chief productions in Australia. Unfortunately it is somewhat irritating to some skins, and many persons will declare that they cannot bear the feeling of anything woollen. Another objection may be taken to it on cosmetic grounds, and it certainly is difficult to make a flannel garment look attractive; but still, with a little taste in the way of bordering, this may be overcome to a great extent. On the other hand, it has great advantages which none of the foregoing fabrics possess, and which have been already referred to.
Having thus minutely and scientifically examined into the properties of the various clothing materials, it will clearly be seen that the one which possesses the greatest advantages with the least possible disadvantages is wool. Hence it is to be chosen in preference to all other fabrics for wearing next the skin, because it wards off all risk of a chill striking the body. Its disadvantages, as said before, are mainly two, the first being that some declare it is impossible to wear it next the skin on account of its causing irritation; this, however, can only apply to new flannel, since after two or three washings it feels as smooth as the most fastidious skin could desire. The next objection, that it cannot be made to look attractive or ornamental, is to a certain extent true; but if it is simply a question of health VERSUS appearance, those who would sacrifice the former deserve to suffer. In this matter we may learn a wrinkle from a practical class of men, namely, sailors. One will find many of them pin their faith on the virtues of an abdominal flannel bandage, reaching from the lower part of the chest well down to the hips. It thus covers the loins and abdomen, and for warding off attacks of lumbago and muscular rheumatism, and for protecting the kidneys, it certainly is valuable.
A flannel under-garment reaching from the neck well down to the hips should always be worn, and in summer it may be of a thinner material than in the cooler weather. It is better to have four made, so that two can be washed at a time. In this way two can be in use every week, changing them day by day, so that one is getting thoroughly aired while the other is being worn. The one which is being aired should be turned inside out, so that the part which has been in contact with the skin becomes thoroughly purified. It must be remembered, however, that flannel is very liable to shrink from repeated washings. This may be provided for by taking care that the under-garment, when first obtained, is several sizes too large. In fact, it can hardly be too large at first, especially in the case of the thicker one for the cooler months, which shrinks much more proportionately than does the thinner one for the hot season. This shrinking, however, can to a great extent be presented by paying attention to the following points: These woollen under-garments should be washed by themselves not with any other clothes, in only moderately hot water. Next, while they are still damp, and before becoming dry, they should be thoroughly stretched upon a table and then well ironed out.
With regard to the sleeping apparel, there is no doubt the modern pyjamas are a great improvement on the old-fashioned bedgown. They are more thoroughly protective to the skin, and keep the extremities uniformly warm, which the latter fails to do. They are better made of flannel, thin in summer and thicker in winter. Persons who are in the habit of wearing woollen material next the skin during the day should certainly keep to the same at night, otherwise the change is too great, and there is thus great risk of taking a chill. The flannel under-garment which has been worn during the day can then be taken off at night without any danger, and has the opportunity of being aired. It might hardly seem necessary to refer to this fact, namely, that the under-garment which has been worn during the day should be taken off at night. Yet I can only say that instances in which this particular garment is never taken off at all, but is worn continuously both night and day, perhaps for a whole week at a time, are not altogether so rare as they might be.
In conclusion reference may be briefly made to a subject which is probably within the experience of everyone. There ale many people who pride themselves on not requiring any extra clothing during the colder months, and evidently look upon this fact as a proof that they possess Spartan powers of endurance, and that cold is a matter of perfect indifference to them. Now, it may be that a few individuals differ essentially from the rest of humanity, and do not require any change of clothing all the year round. But the majority of people who profess this disregard to climate certainly appear as if they would be all the better for warmer material, for their faces look pinched and their hands seem nearly frozen with the cold. But the fact is that even if the want of thicker clothing is not particularly felt during the cold weather, it is always wiser to wear an extra allowance, for the heat of summer can be endured better if this principle is carried out. If a common-sense view of the matter is taken, then it will be readily apparent why it is desirable to wear plenty of warm clothing during the colder months.
CHAPTER VI.
DIET
The larger part of this work is taken up with a consideration of the most suitable diet for those living in Australia. In this way a greater restriction in the amount of butcher's meat is counselled, while a more widely extended use of fish, vegetables, and salad plants is advocated. And as far as beverages are concerned, Australian wine of a low alcoholic strength is recommended as being the most natural beverage for every-day use. But there are a few other matters connected with food, and drink, and daily habits which will deserve some little reference, and accordingly they will be dealt with. These are fruit, tea, coffee, iced drinks, and the use of tobacco. All these are important enough to merit notice; indeed, they are subjects possessing more than usual interest.
Before proceeding to give attention to these, however, it will be most convenient, at this stage, to make some remarks upon the vital topic of the first meal of the day. With the great bulk of our population sufficient heed is never given it, and yet it is of infinite consequence. By far the greater number of people dawdle in bed till the last possible moment, when all at once they jump into their bath—that is, if they take a bath—swallow a hasty breakfast, and make a frantic rush for their steamer, train, or tram, in order to begin their daily work. How very much better than all this bustle, hurry, and scuttle an hour's earlier rising would be! It would afford ample time for the bath, which should be a bath in the truest sense of the term; it would, above all, give a proper opportunity for a leisurely breakfast, which is in every respect the most important meal of the day; and lastly, it would save that wild dash at the last, which is so fatal to proper digestion and well-being.
But it is a sad fact that, in most cases, even when there is due time given to it, the monotony of the ordinary breakfast is almost proverbial. With regard to the average household it is a matter of deep conjecture as to what most people would do if a prohibition were placed upon chops, steak, and sausages for breakfast. If such an awful calamity happened, many the father of a family would have to put up with scanty fare. It is very much to be feared that the inability to conceive of something more original for the morning meal than the eternal trio referred to is a melancholy reproach to the housekeeping capabilities of many. To read an account of a highland breakfast, in contradistinction to this paucity of comestibles, is to make one almost pensive. The description of the snowy tablecloth, the generously loaded table, the delicious smell of the scones and honey, the marmalade, the different cakes, the fish, the bacon, and the toast, is enough to create a desire to dwell there for a very prolonged period. However, REVENONS A NOS MOUTONS; this has been adverted to, not so much with the idea of urging people to copy such an example, because expense would render it an impossibility, but to try and awaken a determination to make more variety at the breakfast table. It is to be hoped that some of the recipes at the end of the volume will serve as a means of initiating a reform in this respect.
But under all circumstances, whether brain or muscle be employed by the bread-winner, a substantial breakfast is of first-rate importance. There is one form of food which it is especially necessary should constitute part of the meal, and which must be referred to. This is that variety known as the hydro-carbons or fats. The value of fat, in any of its many forms, in promoting the health of the body and preventing the onset of wasting diseases is hardly appreciated, and besides this action it markedly serves to nourish the brain and nervous system. Dr. Murchison, the late eminent physician, was wont to declare that bacon fat or ham fat was worth a guinea an ounce in the treatment of wasting diseases. Cod liver oil, also, has a wide repute in the treatment of the same class of maladies. Indeed, it is related of an eminent barrister that he used to take a full dose of cod liver oil some time before going to plead an important case, for he found it better brain food than anything else.
In our semi-tropical climate, however, a dislike is often taken to butter when it is presented at breakfast in the form of semi-liquid grease. It would require a person with the stomach of an ostrich to digest, to say nothing of relish, such an oleaginous compound during our hot months. But if this necessary and all-important article of diet can be presented in an appetising shape, what a desirable result is achieved I The mass of the people—I am not referring to those who are well endowed with worldly gifts—are apt to look upon the ice chest as a luxury which is altogether beyond their means. But, as I have said elsewhere, I am firmly persuaded that if the price of ice were brought down to one-halfpenny per pound, and if a company were formed to deliver such a small quantity as six pounds per day, or every second day, it would be a great boon, and moreover a wonderfully profitable speculation. A very small and suitable ice chest could be constructed, to sell at a few shillings, solely to preserve the butter in a congealed, and therefore palatable, state, for children as well as for adults. The former would take it with great avidity, and the benefit to health resulting therefrom would be incalculable. Even in some of the better-class houses ice is looked upon too much as a luxury, and not, as it should be, a necessity; indeed, the money saved from gas during the summer months might well be expended in ice.
Not only is this fatty breakfast a necessary feature in the diet of everybody, particularly of the young and growing population, but it is likewise a most important matter with all brain workers. If the business or professional man can put in a liberal breakfast, consisting largely of butter, fat bacon or ham, he can go on all day with a feeling of energy and buoyancy. It is in this aversion to fatty matter, in any shape or form, that the bilious and dyspeptic are so fearfully handicapped. And not only is it necessary for an active mental worker to be supplied with a good proportion of fatty material, but, as I have just said, it is essential that his breakfast should be a substantial one, in which his food is not stinted in any way. As Dr. Milner Fothergill said: "I would always back a good breakfaster, from a boy to a game cockerel; a good meal to begin the day is a good foundation." So, too, Mr. Christopher Heath, the well-known London surgeon, in his advice to house surgeons and other medical officers living in hospitals, says, "the first symptom of \`knocking up,/' is an inability to eat breakfast," and goes on to point out how important a meal it is, and that it should be taken deliberately and without undue haste.
FRUIT
It is undoubtedly a most fortunate thing for us in Australia that fruit is so abundant, and that it is easily within the reach of all. There is something wonderfully attractive about it; its colouring in particular appeals so to the eye that a good show of well-assorted fruit is always certain to ensure attention. Many fruits, moreover, have a magnificent fragrance which lends to their agreeable taste. It is somewhat of a pity that fruit is not more ordinarily eaten at meals, particularly with the breakfast. There is an old proverb that fruit is gold in the morning, silver at noon, and lead at night; and it is undoubtedly a fact that it is especially beneficial when eaten early in the day. In France, fruit is a constant part of every meal, and there is no question but that such a proceeding is desirable. It was formerly the custom with English people at regular dinners to have dessert on the table all through the courses, but it is now more customary to present it at the termination of the repast, so that it is quite fresh and not saturated with odours absorbed from the soup, fish, etc.
The agreeable qualities of fruits may be said to reside in three different factors. First, there is the proportion of sugar, gum, pectin, etc., to free acid; next, the proportion of soluble to insoluble matters; and thirdly, the aroma, which, indeed, is no inconsiderable element therein. This latter quality—the aroma, fragrance, or perfume of fruit—is due to the existence of delicate and exquisite ethers. These subtle ethers Are often accompanied by essential oils, which may render the aroma more penetrating and continued. Those fruits like the peach, greengage, and mulberry, which almost melt in the mouth, contain a very large amount of soluble substances. Some fruits, like the peach and apricot, carry but a small amount of sugar as compared with the free acid they contain. Yet the free acid is not distinctly perceptible, because its taste is covered by a larger proportion of gum, pectin, and other gelatinous substances. There are other fruits again, such as the currant and gooseberry, which are markedly acid, because there is only a small amount of gum and pectin, and a relatively larger amount of free acid.
With regard to fruit when eaten in its raw state, the question of ripeness is a most important ones and is always to be considered; so that whatever views may be entertained as to the dietetic value of ripe fruit, there is a consensus of opinion on the fact that when unripe it is most injurious. Care must be taken, therefore, to see that it is perfectly ripe, and no considerations of economy must be allowed to over-ride the fact. At the same time, though ripeness is a necessary qualification of wholesomeness, yet fruit must not be over-ripe, as changes occur which render it undesirable for the system, and thus in avoiding Scylla we may fall into Charybdis. The skin of fruit should never be eaten, nor should the stones, pips, or seeds be swallowed, as there is a danger of their accumulating in a small pouch of the bowel known as the vermiform appendix. Their lodgment in this little pocket is a constant source of peril, and would soon set up an inflammation, which must always be attended with a considerable amount of danger.
As to the question of the unripeness or over-ripeness of fruit, the following remarks by Dr. F.W. Pavy, an acknowledged authority on all that relates to food, and worth recording:—"Fruit forms an agreeable and refreshing kind of food, and, eaten in moderate quantity, exerts a favourable influence as an article of diet. It is chiefly of service for the carbo-hydrates, vegetable acids, and alkaline salts it contains. It enjoys, too, in a high degree, the power of counteracting the unhealthy state found to be induced by too close a restriction to dried and salted provisions. Whilst advantageous when consumed in moderate quantity, fruit, on the other hand, proves injurious if eaten in excess. Of a highly succulent nature, and containing free acids and principles liable to undergo change, it is apt, when ingested out of due proportion to other food, to act as a disturbing element, and excite derangement of the alimentary canal. This is particularly likely to occur if eaten either in the unripe or over-ripe state; in the former case, from the quantity of acid present; in the latter, from its strong tendency to ferment and decompose within the digestive tract. The prevalence of stomach and bowel disorders, noticeable during the height of the fruit season, affords proof of the inconveniences that the too free use of fruit may give rise to."
The different forms of fruit, and also of vegetables, owe their great value to the fact that they possess powerful anti-scorbutic properties. It will be best and simplest to define the word "anti-scorbutic" as "good against the scurvy." This latter disease is notably dependent on a want of fresh fruit and vegetables in the dietary, and consequently is more often observed amongst sailors; and though accessory conditions, such as great privations, bad provisions, or unhealthy surroundings, may predispose to it, yet that which essentially produces it is the deficiency of the former articles from the food. At the present time it is not nearly so frequently seen, since, according to the mercantile marine regulations, subject to legislative enactments passed in 1867, in lieu of vegetables, one ounce of lime juice, sweetened with the same quantity of sugar, must be served out to each man daily.
In scurvy there is some great change effected in the blood, and it is as well to refer briefly to the characters possessed by the latter. The blood as it exists in the body is a red alkaline fluid, having a saltish taste and possessing quite a noticeable odour. It consists of minute bodies, the corpuscles, immersed in a liquid, the LIQUOR SANGUINIS. Salts also enter into its composition, and include the chlorides of potash and soda; the phosphates of lime, magnesia,-and soda; the sulphate of potash, and free soda. Of these the salts of soda predominate, and the chloride—that is, common salt—is usually in excess of all the others. The uses of these salts in the blood are to supply the different tissues with the salts they respectively require, to take part in maintaining the proper specific gravity and alkaline character of the blood, and to prevent any changes going on within it.
In scurvy, as mentioned before, the blood seems to undergo some great change, and there are accumulations of it beneath the skin. The gums become spongy, bleeding on the slightest touch, and the teeth frequently loosen. Blood often flows from the mouth and nose, or is vomited from the stomach, or is passed through the bowels. Dr. Garrod advanced the view that scurvy was dependent on a deficiency of potash in the stem, and that vegetables which contained potash supplied the want. It is questionable, however, whether the disease is due to this fact alone, since beef tea, which contains a good deal of potash, may be given freely to a scorbutic patient, yet he fails to recover till proper anti-scorbutic diet is supplied. Dr. Ralfe found by experiments that when acids are injected into the blood, or an excess of acid salts administered, the same changes occur in the blood as in scurvy. Hence he supposes that the latter disease is caused by a decrease in the alkalinity of the blood, which results from the absence of fruit and vegetables from the food.
Now, although characteristic cases of scurvy are as a rule to be met with chiefly in sailors, yet there is no doubt that an insufficiency of the preceding in the dietary brings about an unhealthy condition of the system. Many typical examples of this are frequently seen in the patients admitted into our hospitals. They have been living, perhaps, in isolated districts in the country, where their sole food was mutton and damper, with no restriction placed on tea and tobacco. As a rule their skin presents evidences of the need of proper diet, for it looks unhealthy and is often covered with boils. But apart from these cases, which so plainly indicate the origin of the poor condition of the blood, there are many instances in which, from the want of vegetable food and fruit, the system becomes greatly deranged. moreover, what is known as the blood being "out of order" is mostly due to an unsuitable diet, consisting of animal food in excess, and a corresponding deficiency of the other essentials.
The use of fruit, again, is especially indicated in persons disposed to the formation of uric acid in excess. When this actually occurs, the system becomes overloaded with deleterious matter, and the blood and body fluids are then saturated with a MATERIES MORBI. This morbific material is best understood by regarding it as being in an incomplete or half-way stage, in which form it is injurious. But, on the other hand, if it had proceeded to its final change, the completed product would have been harmless. Indeed, it is as the latter that it mostly leaves the body in ordinary conditions of health. Well then, the retention within the system of this incompletely transformed material gives rise to various symptoms. One of them is a bitter or "coppery" taste in the mouth, notably in the early morning. Oftentimes, too, patients will complain that they do not feel at all refreshed on rising, even when they have slept fairly well—which does not happen too frequently. There may be also a great tendency to drowsiness, accompanied by severe pains in the limbs, coming on about an hour after meals. Other symptoms which are commonly met with are great irritability of the temper and lowness of spirits. There is frequently a headache of a peculiar kind. It comes on generally in the morning, and may last all day, or even for several days. It is a dull, heavy pain, felt most often in the forehead. A curious feature of the affection which sometimes exists is an incontrollable desire to grind the teeth during the waking hours. There are other symptoms, also, characteristic of the same malady, namely, palpitation of the heart and intermittency of the pulse; a liability to colds on the chest; and perhaps repeated attacks of difficulty in breathing. From all this it follows that a more liberal supply of fruit for such individuals would be followed by the most beneficial results and their children might well be taught to follow their example. For it must be remembered that all fruits contain alkaline salts which are good for the blood. These alkaline vegetable salts become changed within the body, and converted into the carbonate of the alkali, in which latter form they pass out of the system.
But before finally closing this portion it is necessary to say a few words about olives, from which the famous olive oil is obtained, and indeed with regard to their virtues nearly a volume might be written. With many people the olive, like the tomato, is an acquired taste, and unfortunately too many fail to overcome their first impressions; but it is certainly worth acquiring, even if the process takes a long time and requires much perseverance, on account of its highly nutritive value. Children are often very fond of olives, and persistent efforts should be made to induce those who do not like them to overcome their aversion. We speak of "French olives" and "Spanish olives"; the former are gathered young, and are small and hard, while the latter are allowed to remain till a later period of growth, when they become softer and more pulpy. The French olives are more piquant in flavour than the larger kind. They are also better to eat as a fruit, though many prefer the Spanish, and are sometimes employed to clear the palate before drinking wines. The larger or Spanish olives are more adapted for cooking, as in the dish known as beef olives, and also for salads. There must be no misconception as to the name French or Spanish as applied to olives; it does not refer to the country from which they are derived, but simply serves to indicate that they are taken from the tree at a particular time in accordance with the habit observed in the respective countries. The mode of preparing the olives as they reach us is as follows: They have been gathered when green, and soaked first of all in strong lye—that is, water saturated with alkaline salt, obtained by steeping wood ashes in the former. They are next soaked in fresh water to remove the somewhat acrid and bitter taste, and are then bottled in a solution of salt and water. Ordinarily they are presented at table in a dish or other suitable vessel, with a little of the liquid in which they have been preserved. In conclusion it may be added that olives form an historical dish, for we are told that the supper of Milton the poet consisted usually of bread and butter and olives.
TEA
Tea, with which we are all so familiar, is in reality a number of dried rolled leaves of the tea plant, Camellia Thea, cultivated chiefly in China and the contiguous countries. It is used excessively throughout Australasia—for has it not been shown that our four million people use more of this beverage than the millions who inhabit Continental Europe, if Russia be excepted? This fact is much to be deplored, for when taken in excess it causes severe functional derangement of the digestive organs, and prejudicially affects the nervous system. The gentler sex are greatly given to extravagant tea-drinking, exceeding all bounds of moderation in this respect. Many of them, moreover, live absolutely on nothing else but tea and bread and butter. What wonder, then, that they grow pale and bloodless; that their muscles turn soft and flabby; that their nervous system becomes shattered; and that they suffer the agonies of indigestion? Their favourite time for a chat and the consumption of tea is at any period between ten o'clock in the morning and three in the afternoon. Now, if there is anything of which I am certain, it is that tea in the middle of the day, say from ten o'clock to three, is a deadly destructive fluid. And I am equally certain, too, that innumerable numbers of young girls employed in business do themselves an irreparable amount of injury by making their mid-day meal consist of nothing else but tea and a little bread and butter. There is no nourishment whatever in such fare, and it inevitably leads to the bad symptoms already detailed and general unhealthiness, if not to the onset of graver disease. No, they require something which is nutritious, such as a little warm soup of some kind, a modicum of bread, and say two different varieties of vegetables to follow. Of course this may be extended to include pudding, stewed fruit, &c., but the former is ample enough in many respects. This is a very important matter to which the attention of proprietors and managers of large establishments, factories, and other places employing many female hands might well be directed. And, moreover, if ever there was an opportunity for an active organization to achieve really valuable work, it would be in seeing that our city girls had something better to eat in the middle of the day than tea and bread and butter.
As in every other case, however, there is all the difference in the world between the use of anything and its abuse. It is wrong to assume that, because a great deal of something is injurious, a small quantity judiciously employed is equally pernicious. And so it is even in the case of tea, for it is not to be denied that a fragrant cup of tea is very agreeable. As Dr. Vivian Poore most appropriately remarked in reply to the argument that the lower animals did not require tea, coffee, &c.: "We are not lower animals; we have minds as well as bodies; and since these substances have the property of enabling us to bear our worries and fatigues, let us accept them, make rational use of them, and be thankful." Of course everything hinges upon the correct interpretation of the terms "small" quantity, and "judiciously" employed. It may be said, however, that the drinking of large cups of tea is never to be sanctioned under ally circumstances whatever. It should rather be looked upon as a delicate fluid to be imbibed only in very small quantities. It should certainly not be used in the middle of the day, between those hours which I have specified; nor should it be taken during the evening, for it almost always disturbs the night's rest.
There was a great controversy as to the proper way of making tea in the medical papers not very long ago. It is of course a perennial topic, and always excites considerable interest. This particular discussion began in this way. A new tea-pot, called the anti-tannic tea-pot, appeared on the scene, and was favoured with a long description by the BRITISH MEDICAL JOURNAL. It was claimed for this special model that it extracted only the theine, and not the tannin from the tea. Now, as a matter of fact, it is simply impossible to make tea, no matter how it is made, entirely free from tannin. It is quite true that many suppose by infusing the tea for a very brief period only—two or three minutes —the passage of the tannin into the beverage can be prevented, but, as Sir William Roberts has pointed out, this is quite a delusion. Tannin is one of the most soluble substances known, and melts in hot water just as sugar does. Tea made experimentally, by pouring boiling water on the dry leaves placed on filter paper, contains tannin. As Sir William remarks, you can no more have tea without tannin, than you can have wine without alcohol.
Nevertheless, it is a fact that this anti-tannic tea-pot has many excellent points about it, and is sure to meet with favour. It is really an attempt to make tea by a more certain method than is generally employed; for I think it must be admitted that the present happy-go-lucky style has not much to recommend it. On one occasion the tea will be excellent—and on another either as weak as water, or with such a sharp acrid taste that it is almost undrinkable. In the latter case the tea has been allowed to soak so long that it has become a decoction instead of an infusion. The consequence of this prolonged action of the hot water on the tea is that it brings out the bitter extractive material of the plant, and it is this which proves so particularly pernicious. Tea at sea is proverbially unpalatable, and invariably disagrees, owing chiefly to the fact that it is a boiled decoction of tea leaves and nothing else.
COFFEE
Coffee is the roasted and ground product of the seeds found within the fruit of a tree, the Coffea Arabica. Originally a native of Abyssinia, it was transported into Arabia at the beginning of the fifteenth century. Since then it has been widely cultivated in the West Indies, in Ceylon, and in other warm countries. The fruit itself much resembles a small cherry in size and appearance, and usually contains two small seeds—the coffee beans themselves. The choicest coffee is the mocha or Arabian coffee, and the bean is very small. Of the West Indian varieties, the Jamaica and the Martinique coffee are the best. The exhilarating and agreeable properties of coffee are dependent in great part upon three active principles which it contains. The first of these is caffeine, which is almost identical in composition with, and practically the same as, the theine present in tea. Next there are the volatile oils, developed by roasting, from which coffee derives its aroma. Indeed, as far as they are concerned, there are many who believe that these ethereal oils have more to do with the characteristic properties of coffee than even the caffeine itself. And, lastly, there are the acids known as caffeo-tannic and caffeic acids, which are modified forms of tea tannin. They exist to a far less extent, however, than does the tannin in tea.
Coffee has a decidedly stimulating effect upon the nervous system; so much so that in France it has been called UNE BOISSON INTELLECTUELLE (an intellectual beverage), from its stimulating all the functions of the brain. Not so long ago a writer, Dr. J. N. Lane, in the BRITISH MEDICAL JOURNAL gave some interesting, information with respect to coffee and brain work. As the result of his own experience he recommended "a cup of strong coffee, without cream or sugar, preceded and followed by a glass of hot water every morning before breakfast. The various secretions are thus stimulated, the nerve force aroused, no matter how the duties of the preceding day and night may have drawn upon the system. Another cup at four in the afternoon is sufficient to sustain the energies for many hours." It is only fair to add, however, that the JOURNAL went on to remark that in this way some 50 grains of caffeine would be taken each week, and that very little more might develop injurious symptoms, so that the power of doing an illimitable amount of work would be obtained under somewhat risky conditions.
One of its most remarkable effects is that of relieving the feeling of fatigue or exhaustion, whether this be produced by brain work or bodily labour. It enables the system also to bear up under an empty stomach and when the supply of food is shortened. In this way it is of signal value to the soldier in the field. Professor E.A. Parkes, all admitted authority on these matters, bears testimony to the fact that in military service it invigorates the system and is almost equally useful against both cold and heat—against cold by reason of its warmth, and against heat by its action on the skin. It appears, also, to do sway with the need for sleep, probably from its arousing the mental faculties, and the effect of a strong cup of coffee in inducing wakefulness is well known. Coffee has, moreover, a distinct action on the heart, and tends to strengthen it. The Germans are great believers in its virtues, and Vogel, one of the principal authorities on diseases of children, recommends it for them, mixed with cream, both as a food and as a tonic.
In addition to the foregoing, coffee is also employed by reason of its important medicinal virtues. In malarious countries a cup of hot strong coffee, in the early morning, is regarded as a preventive against fever and ague. It is a valuable agent in many cases of heart disease, particularly when associated with dropsy. In Bright's disease of the kidneys, where dropsy is present, it is likewise given with benefit. Strong coffee is also a well-known remedy in asthma, both in relieving the actual attack and in acting as a restorative after it is over. It frequently gives great relief in many forms of nervous headache, particularly in that variety known as migraine, in which the pain is generally limited to one side of the head. And, lastly, coffee is a valuable remedy in opium poisoning, where there is such a tendency to a fatal coma.
From the foregoing it must be evident that coffee occupies a very high position as a beverage. All that concerns its preparation, therefore, is of undoubted interest. In the first place, to obtain coffee in perfection it is indispensable that the beans be roasted at home, and not only should the roasting be done in the house, but the operation ought really to be performed immediately before the coffee is made, and the reasons thereof I shall give in speaking of the process of roasting. Many people do not care sufficiently about the perfection of coffee to go to this trouble, and are content with having their roasted coffee beans sent to them daily from their grocer. The leading establishments roast their coffee beans daily, and from them the latter may be obtained and ground in the mill at home. This, of course, though not giving the real thing, is an immense improvement on the hallowed tradition, so dear to some, of purchasing their weekly supply of,,round coffee at a time and keeping it in a tin or vessel for use as required. But, as I said before, if perfection is aimed at, the roasting must be done at home.
In the selection of the green beans care should be taxiway to see that they are nearly all of the same size, for if some are small and others large, when it comes to roasting it will be found that the small ones are done to a cinder, while the larger beans are hardly touched. The beans, too, should be perfectly dry; if moist, they should be dried in a dish by the fire or in the oven before going into the roaster. On the coffee plantations the drying of the bean is considered a most important matter when preparing them for export.
In the process of roasting, a volatile oil which gives to coffee its unique fragrance is developed. It is somewhat curious that no amount of boiling could educe this from the raw bean. This oil is exceedingly volatile, and begins to disperse and evaporate the very moment it is born. Hence, to obtain the perfection of coffee, no time should be lost in grinding and making it directly it is roasted. When the fragrant vapour of the roasted bean is first given off, it is soon followed by a peculiar noise, caused by the splitting and crackling of the external silvery greenish covering of the raw beans. At this time, or very shortly afterwards, the latter are of a yellowish hue, but before long they change into that desirable lightish brown colour, when the peculiar volatile coffee oils are at their best.
The best mill for grinding the coffee, and one which may be obtained from any ironmonger, is that which can be screwed on the edge of the kitchen table or dresser. It has a little contrivance to regulate the size of the grains. and care must be taken not to grind the coffee too fine; it should be in minute crumbs rather than in powder.
As I have already said, the perfection of coffee is only to be obtained under three conditions. These are, first, that the beans should be roasted at home; that they should be ground without much delay; and, thirdly, made into coffee as soon as possible. Many people are, however, unable to carry out the first of these three requirements. The next best substitute is to have the roasted coffee beans sent daily to them by their grocer. This is a practice which might be followed more frequently with a great deal of advantage, for all are able, at least, to possess a mill and grind their own coffee at home.
The making of the coffee is quite as important as the preceding, and the number of different models of coffee-makers is almost perplexing. But of them all, the one which is simplest, and perhaps most effective, is the ordinary CAFETIERS, or French coffee-pot. This has the advantage of costing only a few shillings, and is readily obtainable from any ironmonger. It consists of an upper compartment in which the coffee is made, and a lower part—the coffee-pot itself—into which the coffee descends. These two portions are quite separate, although the upper fits on the lower. The floor—on which the coffee is placed—of the upper part is perforated by a number of minute holes There is also a movable strainer about an inch in depth, which fits on top of the upper part; and a presser, consisting of a long rod with a circular plate at its end, which for convenience passes through the centre of the strainer, and rests on the perforated floor of the upper part.
There are one or two points to be borne in mind in the making of coffee. As a rule English-speaking people do not allow enough coffee to each cup. The almost universal fault of coffee, made elsewhere than on the Continent, is its want of strength and flavour. With regard to the admixture of chicory, this is largely a question of taste, and the palate must be consulted in the matter. The great majority of people, however, cannot do without it, and it is quite (when genuine) a harmless addition. Madame Lebour-Fawssett recommends the following proportions: For making CAFE NOIR, or coffee after meals, there should be six teaspoonsful of coffee, heaped up, and a very small teaspoonful of chicory, or none at all, for one pint of water. The chicory must be left out altogether, and another teaspoonful of coffee substituted for those who object to chicory with their CAFE NOIR. For morning coffee or cafe au lait there should be ten or twelve teaspoonsful of coffee, with a sixth part of chicory, for each pint of water. As Madame Lebour-Fawssett remarks, CAFE AU LAIT is never complete without chicory, but care should be taken not to overdo it, since too much chicory renders the coffee quite undrinkable. Of course, if you do not require as much as a pint of coffee, the quantities may be reduced, still observing the same proportions. Before pouring out the coffee, the cup should first be half filled with hot milk, and then the coffee added.
Now, having seen what proportions of coffee and chicory are to be employed for CAFE NOIR and CAFE AU LAIT respectively, it will be better to describe the actual making of the coffee, since the CAFETIERE will then be more easily understood. We will suppose its upper part is fitted into its place on the top of the lower portion, and that the strainer and presser have been removed for the time being. Enough boiling water should first of all be poured in to fill both the upper and lower compartments, allowed to stand for a couple of minutes, and then poured away. This brings everything to a proper heat for receiving the coffee.
Next put the amount of coffee necessary upon the perforated floor of the upper part. The coffee should then be well pressed down with the presser, and the latter instrument next laid aside. After this the strainer should be replaced on top of the upper compartment, and the required amount of boiling water, a little at a time, poured in through it (the strainer). The object of pouring in the boiling water slowly is to give it time to percolate through the densely pressed coffee lying on the floor of the upper part. There is a little tin cover fitting over the spout of the lower compartment, which should be adjusted to keep in the steam. The whole may then be set aside for a few minutes, and when the coffee has passed into the lower part, it is ready for use. With a little practice, and by paying attention to these details, the most perfect coffee may be made.
ICED DRINKS
In Australia some reference to the subject of iced drinks is necessarily required, for they are in great request during the hot season. There is a considerable amount of diversity of opinion as to their good and bad effects, but it will be found that the experience of most medical men is that when used in moderation they greatly relieve thirst and are not injurious. This, indeed, is my own belief, and were it not for the abuse of iced drinks, the same opinion would be held almost universally. America is the country of countries in which the inordinate use of ice has gained for it a reputation which it has never deserved. Ice, says George Augustus Sala, is the alpha and omega of social life in the United States. At the hotels, first-class or otherwise, the beverage partaken of at dinner is mostly iced water. Every repast, in fact, begins and ends with a glass of iced water. When consumed in this way it is no wonder that it often disagrees, and that ice-water dyspepsia is a definite malady in America. And more than this, imagine carrying the employment of ice to such an extent that it culminates in that gastronomical curiosity, a BAKED ICE! The "Alaska" is a BAKED ICE, of which the interior is an ice cream. This latter is surrounded by an exterior of whipped cream, made warm by means of a Salamander. The transition from the hot outside envelope to the frozen inside is painfully sudden, and not likely to be attended with beneficial effect. But the abuse of a good thing is no argument whatever against its use in a moderate and rational manner.
It will be desirable, however, to see what is believed in India about iced drinks, for it will be something of a guide for us in Australia. There are two authorities in particular who have been already referred to, and who have written on this matter in its application to India. The first of these is Sir James Ranald Martin, who had twenty-two years experience there in different parts, and is therefore entitled to be listened to. He says that ice is a matter of necessity in the East, and quotes Dolomieu, who observes of iced drinks that "they revive the spirits, strengthen the body, and assist the digestion."
There is also that other great name, that of Sir Joseph Fayrer, who is most competent to speak on Indian matters. In setting forth rules for the guidance of those who purpose living in India, he remarks that iced water may be drunk with impunity there; that he has no recollection of seeing any one suffer from drinking iced water or iced soda water in a hot climate; and that in the great heat it is good, since it tends to keep down the body temperature. When the system is prostrated by the sun or extreme heat, or exhausted by physical or intellectual exertion in a hot and damp atmosphere, he believes that a glass of iced water slowly swallowed is far more refreshing than the iced brandy, or whisky peg, or draught of beer, too frequently indulged in under such circumstances.
The different writers on food and dietetics, who have given considerable attention to the same subject, are almost unanimous in their opinion to the same effect. There will be no occasion to refer to all of them, but three at least deserve a brief mention. Dr. Burney Yeo has recently observed that iced water, when taken in small quantities, is refreshing and cooling, and likewise stimulates the digestive functions. On the other hand, it is certainly injurious when taken in inordinate amount. According to Dr. T. King Chambers, cool drinks are beneficial to the stomach in hot weather, since they help to reduce the increased temperature to which the over-heated blood has brought it. Ice, moreover, is a valuable addition to the dietary both of the sick and of the healthy. There is one caution to be observed, however, and it is that ice is injurious when the system is exhausted after violent exercise. And lastly, Dr. Milner Fothergill believes the craving for cool drinks during the hot weather is such, that there is evidently some irrepressible desire to be satisfied. He even writes that in his opinion the dyspepsia of Americans is not entirely due to the free use of iced water, but that there are other causes which help to bring it about.
But while all this is greatly in favour of the moderate use of iced drinks, the purity of the source from which the ice is obtained is also a matter of the highest importance. Ice is not ice when the water from which it is derived is impure. There was an outbreak of sickness amongst the visitors at one of the large hotels at Rye Beach, a watering-place in America, one summer. The symptoms were an alarming disturbance of the with severe pain, great feverishness, and depression of spirits. It was found that the ice which occasioned this outbreak had been taken from a stagnant pond containing a large amount of decomposing matter. A portion of it was carefully melted, and was found to contain a considerable quantity of decaying vegetable matter. In the case of artificial ice, the question of purity is even more important. The reason for this is that the water used in the manufacture of artificial ice is usually frozen solid, and whatever substances, consequently, are dissolved in the water remain in the ice itself.
TOBACCO
Five out of every six male adults smoke, whether it be cigarette, cigar, or pipe. That is, in a gathering of, say, 600 men, 500 will be smokers and 100 non-smokers. At least, this is the estimated proportion in the old country. In Australia the ratio is about the same, but the average amount of tobacco used by every smoker is greater. According to Mr. T. A. Coghlan in his WEALTH AND PROGRESS OF NEW SOUTH WALES, the annual consumption of tobacco in Australia for each inhabitant is 3 lbs. all but a fraction. For the United Kingdom the corresponding amount is 1.41 lbs.; and for the United States of America, 4.40 lbs. Italy, it would seem, consumes in the same way 1.34 lbs.; France, 2.05 lbs.; Germany, 3 lbs.; Austria, 3.77 lbs.; Turkey, 4.37 lbs.; while Holland reaches the excessive amount of 6.92 lbs. Of the five colonies of Australia, namely, New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia, Queensland, and West Australia, the use of tobacco is greatest in the latter two; the figures for Queensland being 3.53 lbs., and for West Australia 4.11 lbs.
With regard to the effect of tobacco on the human system, it will perhaps be most convenient to make a division into the following three classes. In the first place there are a certain number of people upon whom tobacco in any shape or form has an absolutely poisonous influence. There must be some peculiar susceptibility of the system in their case which renders them especially vulnerable to its action. On this account, therefore, they are better without tobacco at all, and any attempt to habituate themselves to it must be attended with prejudice to health. Secondly, there are many other people who can only use tobacco in its very mildest forms. They may be able to smoke a few cigarettes daily, perhaps only three or four; if they indulge in a cigar, it must be one of the mildest; if a pipe, the tobacco will have to be the very lightest. Anything exceeding their allowance is an excess for which they are obliged to pay the penalty. Then, again, there is a third class who can enjoy tobacco in moderation. But these are the very people who are most apt to abuse their privilege. And although they do not recognise it at once, the effect of their excessive smoking is bound to assert itself at last, and compel them to curtail their allowance. If those in the second category, who can enjoy the mildest tobacco in the smallest quantities, and those in the third, who can smoke in moderation, were never to exceed their proper amount, no very great harm would follow. But it most frequently happens that both overstep their respective bounds, and the result is injury to health.
The tobacco plant, NICOTIANA TOBACUM, belongs to the order Solanaceae, which also includes belladonna, capsicum, henbane, and likewise the common potato. Its active principle, an alkaloid—nicotine or nicotia —is combined with a vegetable acid. Some of the alkaloids, such as morphine, strychnine, &c., are crystalline in character, but this, along with a few others, is liquid. A single drop of it is fatal to the smaller animals, a cat or Even as it is, the first smoke usually produces characteristic results. There is generally pallor of the face, nausea, and vomiting. Usually a cold, clammy sweat breaks out, and the heart seems as if it were about to stop. The system, however, gradually becomes habituated to its action, and these symptoms do not reappear. Seeing that this somewhat unpleasant apprenticeship is uncomplainingly served, it is evident that in smoking there must be some powerful attraction. There are many, indeed, who persist in it when it is doing them an inconceivable amount of injury.
It is a fortunate thing that almost all of the nicotine passes off, or is burnt up, or else the effect would be more markedly disastrous. But the pleasurable effects of tobacco are derived in great part from the volatile alkaloids formed during combustion. The alkaloids which develop during the smoking of a pipe are entirely different from those of a cigar. In a pipe, according to Vold and Eulenburg, the tobacco yields a very much larger proportion of volatile bases, especially of the very volatile and stupefying pyridine. On the other hand, a cigar produces but little pyridine, but more of the less active collidine. It is well known that very much stronger tobacco can be smoked as a cigar than as a pipe. As a matter of fact a cigar which could be enjoyed as a cigar, would cause sickness if cut up into small pieces and smoked in a pipe. This pyridine to which reference has just been made has lately been brought forward as a remedy for asthma. Now, the effect of tobacco in cutting short an attack of this latter malady is, at times, very marked. And Professor See, the eminent French physician, believes that the pyridine is the relieving agent.
In the earlier part of this section I have attempted to form a provisional classification of people as far as the effect of tobacco is concerned. Firstly, those upon whom tobacco in any shape or form is an absolute poison; secondly, those who can enjoy a very small amount-daily; and thirdly, those who are able to smoke in moderation. Now, while those who use tobacco with wise discretion appear to be none the worse for it, yet it unfortunately happens that far too frequently there is no limit to this discretion. It is too often the case, therefore, that quite a serious amount of damage to health results from excessive smoking. It requires a good deal of judgment, and even more resolution, to use and not abuse tobacco.
There are certain symptoms which should lead a man either to curtail his allowance, or else give up tobacco altogether. These are marked nervousness, trembling of the whole body, unsteadiness of the hands, and twitching of different muscles. There may be also swimming of the head, severe headache, and a feeling of despondency. In other cases there may be irritability of temper, a want of will determination, and progressive loss of memory. The special senses—sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch—may all be blunted. The Bight and hearing are often markedly affected. Colour blindness is sometimes a result, and there may be that impairment of vision known tobacco AMBLYOPIA. As regards the hearing, too, there is not unfrequently a drumming in the ears and confusion of sounds.
And more than this, tobacco, when unsuitable or used in excess, has other prejudicial effects. Its action on the heart is well known, and is frequently manifested by violent palpitation and by disturbed action of the heart. There is also a definite disorder known as "the smoker's heart." In this affection the beats, instead of being regular, are very rapid, suddenly becoming very slow. In this way the rhythm of the heart has been aptly compared by Dr. Lauder Brunton to a restive horse, who goes into a gallop for a few yards, next pulls up all at once, and then breaks off into a gallop again. When tobacco has these prejudicial effects upon the heart, it is no good diminishing the allowance. The only way to bring about any good result is to knock it off altogether.
In addition to its direct action on the heart, tobacco smoking may also bring on a sudden fainting, in which there is absolutely no warning. This condition may develop from the tobacco alone, but in many instances nervous excitement or shock are superadded. Professor Fraser, of Edinburgh, has observed that quite a number of his college friends, who smoked to an inordinate extent as students, were obliged to give up tobacco as middle age approached. Several of them had to do so on account of the onset of these sudden fainting fits. Many smokers also suffer from what is termed chronic pharyngitis. In this affection the mucous membrane at the back part of the mouth looks like dirty-red velvet, and there is also a constant hawking of phlegm. And further, indigestion itself is in many eases entirely due to excessive smoking, from which there is no relief except by abandoning the habit altogether.
But even when tobacco does not produce such marked ill effects, it is as well to remember that it has always a definite action from a gastronomic point of view. And it is this, that directly after the first draw of a cigarette, cigar, or pipe, the palate loses its delicacy of perception. As Sir Henry Thompson remarks, after smoke the power to appreciate good wine is lost, and no judicious host cares to open a fresh bottle from his best bin for the smoker. This is perfectly true; under such circumstances valuable wine would simply be thrown away. But, on the other hand, there is an unquestionable sympathy between coffee and tobacco, and a cup of Mocha blends harmoniously with choice Latakia. This is well recognised in the East; and throughout the Continent coffee and temperate habits go hand in hand with the cigar or cigarette. We must also agree with Sir Henry when he declares that smoke and alcoholic drinks are only found associated together in Great Britain and other northern nations, where there are to be found the most insensitive palates in Europe. It is a good thing, therefore, that the habits followed here are unknown to him, or else Australia would certainly have had a rap over the knuckles.
CHAPTER VII.
EXERCISE
This comes last alphabetically of the five essentials concerned in the maintenance of health—namely, ablution: the skin and the bath; bed-room ventilation; clothing; diet; and exercise—but it is none the less important on that account. Exercise may be defined as action of the body, whereby its organs and their functions are kept in a state of health. Each one of us has from the moment of his existence a certain stature allotted, as it were, to which he will attain. In this way some will be tall, others will be short, so that the height of the body is something quite beyond our control, as we know by the interrogation, "Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit to his stature?" But in contradistinction to height, we know that the muscles of the body can be developed and increased in size by use. It is by their action in exercise that the muscles are enlarged, hardened, and brought to their greatest state of perfection. And it is only by exercise, and by exercise alone, that they can be maintained at the acme of physical condition.
Now, in the same way that education develops and increases the power of the brain, so exercise has a similar effect on the body. When the muscles are strengthened, the beneficial effect is also participated in by the heart, lungs, and digestive organs, and thus the removal of worn-out material from the body is assisted. The effect of exercise is thus to remove used up products from the system, and so afford an opportunity for renewed material to take their place. Ceaseless changes are constantly going on throughout the body, and any part which has fulfilled its object is no longer necessary for the requirements of the system, in fact it becomes injurious. Its removal has to take place by one of the various outlets, and it is by exercise that its expulsion is greatly assisted. In this way exercise differs altogether from the part played by food. The latter is the introduction of nourishment into the system for the renewal of its wants, while exercise is the principal agent by which DEBRIS is eliminated.
It was well known amongst the Greeks and Romans that the muscles reached their greatest state of development by means of exercise. Though, therefore, gymnastics formed a great part of their system of education, yet the chief aim in their athletic instruction was the desire to train men to fight their battles, and in those days war was a matter of personal valour and of individual bravery. On that account, therefore, the men who were selected as their soldiers were among the healthiest of the nation. Those who by reason of bodily infirmity or inherent weakness were unfitted for military prowess were left alone. But, as Maclaren has well pointed out, the object of systematic and proper exercise is not for the production of a race of soldiers, though a certain proportion of the population will always be required for military service. With the great majority of men the struggle for existence is keen, and it is simply a question of the survival of the fittest, and of the weakest going to the wall. The requirements of the present time are therefore a capacity for endurance and an ability to withstand the effects of work day after day. We do not require athletes who are capable of performing wonderful feats of strength; but the fight of the nineteenth century is brain against brain, and he will be best equipped for the struggle who has the advantage of good bodily health. In the higher callings, where brain power is everything, the necessity for perfect physical condition is all the more imperative, because the brain is supplied with healthy blood, and the ideas flow with less effort.
The brain is an organ of the body exactly in the same way that the heart, the lungs, and the liver are, and therefore is subject to the same changes which belong to every other part of the frame. It will be at its best when there is circulating through it a full supply of rich red arterial blood, for that means a continual renewal of fresh material to it, and a speedy removal of worn-out products. It is by exercise mainly, whether it be voluntarily undertaken, or whether it pertain to the calling, that the body is kept at the pink of condition, and the brain benefited accordingly. Another great and important result from improving the bodily health is the increased power of what we call the will. The undertaking, say, of a long walk or climb involves the possession of a certain amount of determination, and many people, though perfectly aware of the good to be obtained by a few hours' exercise outside the house, have not the determination to carry it into effect. Once the disinclination to move is overcome, the effort required is less each time, and ultimately the will gains a distinct mastery.
When the muscles are put into action, what is termed their contractility is called into play—that is, the force which was dormant before is roused into activity. This is effected through the nervous system, and it is the will which emanates from the brain and is carried along certain nerves to accomplish definite actions. During the contraction of a muscle its individual fibres change in form, producing an alteration in the shape of the whole muscle; thus it becomes shorter and thicker. At the same time, while it is in action more blood flows through it, hence we see that one of the beneficial effects of exercise is to stimulate the circulation through the muscular system. It has also been ascertained by experiments, that the venous blood which comes from a muscle in action is darker in colour than that from a muscle in repose. When the circulation is quickened by movement, and the blood stream hastened, the vigour of the body is increased, because the used up material is all the quicker taken away, and a freshly created supply of nutrition brought to every part.
The rate of breathing is accelerated whenever the body is engaged in muscular exertion, and with this quickened breathing there is an increased amount of oxygen drawn in, and an increased amount of carbonic acid gas and water exhaled by the breath. The oxygen which is absorbed from the air into the blood is stored in the red corpuscles of the latter, by which it is carried to every part of the body. The venous blood which returns from every portion of the system comes back as a dark crimson, instead of being bright scarlet like the arterial blood. It contains carbonic acid, and returns it to the lungs, where it is exhaled by the breath. The oxygen is necessary to existence, while the carbonic acid is injurious. The effect of exercise, then, in any form, is thus to distribute healthy blood more rapidly through the system, while it removes the injurious matters quite as speedily. The effect of active exercise on the heart, as it is well known, is to make it beat faster; by this the blood is driven through the body at a quicker rate than usual. Sometimes, when the effort is unusually severe, there is a disturbance of the regular balance between the heart and the lungs. There is thus produced an irregular or unequal action of the former, causing what is known as "loss of wind," which is, however, soon restored by resting.
There is an excessive flow of blood to the surface of the body, causing it to redden, and at the same time the perspiration is greatly increased. It is on account of this latter moisture opening up the pores of the skin that the good effects of exercise are chiefly due. The perspiration consists mainly of water containing different salts and organic matters. It is found by experiment that the amount of water passing through the lungs and skin is usually doubled even with moderate exertion.
The result of moderate exercise in benefiting the nervous system is well known, and the effect of a gentle walk in making the ideas flow through the brain is a matter of common observation. At the same time, it must be borne in mind that exercise, when carried to the verge of fatigue, compels inactivity of the brain for a time, since Nature must have repose. But when carried out in moderation with a view of improving the condition of the body, it conduces to the salubrity of the brain as well, for the latter organ shares in the health of the former. The only thing to guard against is irregular and fitful doses; thus it is far better to take a little in moderation daily, than to attempt to make one day's exercise suffice for the rest of the week.
It follows from the foregoing, therefore, that without exercise a perfect state of health is an impossibility. There can be no proper bodily health unless there be daily exercise. It is the same with everybody, no matter what the condition of life may be. Exercise is quite as necessary for the well-to-do man as it is for him who is not so circumstanced. The laws of health cannot be violated, and all the money in the world will not atone for neglect in this respect. Exercise is not a matter that can be carried out by proxy. No; each one must take his own exercise, and he derives all the benefit for himself.
It is a fortunate thing, then, that most people have to earn their own living, for the exertion thereby entailed is actually necessary for health. Yet, while this is the case with those who live by their bodily labour, it hardly applies to those who are more dependent upon mental work. For instance, the latter include literary men and journalists, the members of the professions, and those of the vast commercial world—all, indeed, who have brain strain and clerical occupations. In their case the great fault is that they use their heads too much and their limbs too little. For them walking is one of the very best means of obtaining health, and it should be regularly and systematically practised.
It has been said that no man under sixty, unless he be kept walking while at his work, should walk less than six or eight miles a day, if he wishes to keep well and have healthy children. In the cooler weather in Australia these are certainly suitable distances, but in the hot months half these amounts will be found sufficient, and they had better be carried out in the cool of the evening. Then again, for those over sixty it has been well observed that a daily walk is still the best means of promoting health. But the walk must always be proportionate to the strength, and should be done at nothing more than a moderate pace, if a man wishes to take care of his blood vessels.
There is another matter which calls for notice, and it is that of early morning exercise. Now, I am quite willing to admit that there are many who derive great benefit from their early morning swim, their matutinal walk, or their tennis before breakfast. But it should be distinctly borne in mind that there are others with whom such early morning exercise does not agree. They get as a result a weary, languid feeling which lasts throughout the entire day. Now, they are apt to imagine it is the exercise in itself which produces this effect. But the truth is, it arises from the time of day at which the exercise is taken, and is not due to the exertion at all. It must not be forgotten, therefore, that while many people derive the greatest advantage from early morning exercise, yet there are others for whom it is altogether unsuitable. But, on the other hand, the latter will obtain every possible benefit by taking their allowance of exercise at some other period of the twenty-four hours.
There are other forms of exercise besides walking, and these have their good points. Riding is, of course, invaluable, especially in cases of sluggish liver. As it has been wittily observed, the outside of a horse is the best thing for the inside of a man. In the cool months in Australia riding is a real pleasure, but in the hot season it is hardly so agreeable. Then again, rowing is a magnificent exercise, and has much to recommend it in early adult life. There is no harm whatever in rowing as an exercise, but when it comes to racing that is a different matter. It is the great strain on the heart, together with the excitement which constitute the sources of risk. The other varieties of exercise, namely, gardening, the different games, cricket, football, tennis, &c., need not be particularized as they all subserve the same purposes, and are in consequence very desirable.
In all the preceding I have endeavoured to show that daily exercise is absolutely necessary for the proper maintenance of health. But there is something even more than this. It is that a long life itself is to be ensured by exercise. It is only by exercise, and by exercise alone, that the various organs of the body, the heart, the lungs, the stomach, the liver, &c., are maintained in their normal state of health. Their condition, moreover, is only to be improved by the muscular movements belonging to exercise. The heart itself is intended for action, not for inaction. By action it thrives, and by disuse it becomes weakened. It is so with all the other organs. In conclusion, therefore, it must be said that the whole system can only be kept in perfect health by muscular movements, and that in addition to keeping the body in health exercise actually increases the chances of living to a good old age.
CHAPTER VIII.
ON SCHOOL COOKERY AND ITS INFLUENCE ON THE AUSTRALIAN DAILY LIFE.
"BAD COOKERY DIMINISHES HAPPINESS, AND SHORTENS LIFE."—WISDOM OF AGES.
In all probability there are but few who have ever had their attention called to certain figures duly set forth within the pages of that mine of information, namely, Mr. T. A. Coghlan's WEALTH AND PROGRESS OF NEW SOUTH WALES. Nevertheless, the facts associated with these statistics so directly concern our Australian daily life that they deserve to be widely known. That portion of the work in which our food supply is considered, therefore, is well worth referring to. It will he found that the consumption of butcher's meat by each inhabitant is greater than in any other country in the world. Thus the amount of meat required for each member of the community every year in New South Wales is 201 lbs.; in Victoria 275 lbs.; whilst in Queensland 370 lbs. are called for. On the other hand, in the United Kingdom only 109 lbs. are similarly needed; in the United States of America 150 lbs. while the figures for the different European countries show an average of no more than 70 lbs.
Another article of commerce which is consumed to excess in all parts is tea. As I have previously stated, it is estimated by Coghlan that the four million people in Australasia use more of this beverage than all the millions who inhabit continental Europe, that is, if Russia be excluded; but he further points out that in Australia itself the use of tea is universal. The tables show that for each inhabitant New South Wales requires annually 7.8 lbs.; Victoria, 7.7 lbs.; South Australia, 6.5 lbs.; and Queensland 8.4 lbs.; and moreover, that West Australia attains a maximum with 10.6 lbs. Now, according to Mulhall, in his DICTIONARY OF STATISTICS, the amount of tea consumed annually for each inhabitant in the United Kingdom is only 5 lbs.; and for the United States of America the proportion is but 1.5 lbs.
A survey of these figures consequently must compel us to admit that Australia is inhabited by a people largely carnivorous and addicted to tea. Surely not one person in a thousand would advocate such a diet under any circumstances. Is it not astonishing, therefore, that innutritious fare of this land is still tolerated in Australia? Facts such as these call for the most serious consideration, since they must irresistibly affect the national life; but though it may seem strange, these matters have never received the notice they stand in need of, if, indeed, they have ever received any notice at all.
There are worlds of interest, however, centred in the notable circumstance that Australia, a new and a semitropical country, is now being peopled by the descendants of those who belonged to an entirely different climate. At the present time the old racial instincts are actively powerful, and exert an influence diametrically opposed to climatic surroundings; and, as a matter of fact, we are witnessing a struggle between our Anglo-Saxon heredities and our Australian environment. But such a conflict against our destiny is one in which the odds are overwhelmingly on one side. For of all forces, that of climate is the most powerful. It is true that man is able almost to remove mountains, and that he can create rivers in an arid land; but to endeavour to resist the dominating influence of climate is to attempt the impossible.
Yet there is something more than all this which should induce us to follow the promptings of nature; this is the fact that Australia will only reach the zenith of her possibilities when her people conform to her climatic requirements. For what would the latter mean? Market gardens innumerable, and a healthy and lucrative life for all concerned; the development of her deep-sea fisheries, and employment, direct as well as indirect, to thousands; the cultivation of the vine, with all the wealth pertaining to smiling vineyards; the growth of the olive and other fruits, and all the other industries which only await their creation; and instead of this, at present, all we possess is the knowledge that we are the greatest meat-eating and tea-drinking race on earth.
PROGRESSIVE CHANGES IN THE THEORIES OF EDUCATION.
We are told that it was Jean Jacques Rousseau who first entirely severed education and learning. In his Emile, published in 1762, he advocated a more natural and less pedantic method of training and developing the physical, mental, and moral faculties of the young. The work produced an astounding effect on its appearance, and has largely influenced the educational methods throughout Europe.
Not so long afterwards, in 1801, Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi, permeated with the atmosphere following the French Revolution, gave to the world his views on education in his work HOW GERTRUDE TEACHES HER CHILDREN. The essence of his belief being that "sense-impression is the foundation of instruction," he counselled the development of all the faculties in preference to the mere acquisition of words. "Words alone," said he, "cannot give us a knowledge of things; they are only useful for giving expression to what we have in our own minds." Consequently, he believed in imparting instruction by a direct appeal to the senses and the understanding so as to call forth all the powers, selecting the subjects of study so that each step should progressively assist the pupil's advancement. He contended that observation was the method by which knowledge was principally gained, and that the perceptive faculties (intuition) were developed by observation. Even in his own time his ideas were awarded a recognition of their value; in fact, he had the honour of being specially visited by Prince de Talleyrand and Madame de Stael.
In the early part of the present century another reformer, Friedrich Wilhelm August Froebel, arose to influence all future educational methods. As with Rousseau, Froebel held that each age belonged to itself, and that the perfection of the later stage could only be attained through perfection of the earlier. So, too, while Pestalozzi upheld that the faculties were developed by exercise, Froebel went farther, and added that the function of education was to develop the faculties by arousing VOLUNTARY ACTIVITY, in this way becoming, according to Michelet, the greatest of educational reformers. Froebel was convinced that man was primarily a doer, indeed, even a creator, and that he learnt only through "self-activity." In action, moreover, there was not alone the mere physical exercise, but also the actual unfolding and strengthening of the mental powers. To Froebel, indeed, belongs the honour of originating the kindergarten system, which is making such progress at the present time; and more than this, it may be said that while it is employed only in the earlier stages of education, yet his principles are beginning to make themselves felt throughout the entire system of education.
As a matter of fact, what is known in Sweden and in Finland as SLOYD, or manual instruction, may be regarded as a continuation of the Kindergarten system. Through the exertions of Uno Cygnaeus the whole of the national system of education in Finland was reorganized, and manual work was first made a part of the regular instruction in the common schools. In Sweden, likewise, the same principles have been introduced chiefly by Herr Otto Salomon, the director of the great sloyd seminarum at Naas. Sloyd work is used in the schools in a disciplinary way as an integral part of general education; the children, generally boys, are employed for a certain number of hours a week in making articles of common household use. It is maintained that work of this kind is specially invaluable in supplementing the ordinary school education of the three R's. It fulfils the injunction "to put the whole boy to school;" it develops faculties which would otherwise lie dormant, while at the same time it trains the eye and does away with clumsy fingers.
THE PURPOSE OF EDUCATION.
From the foregoing it will be seen that within the last 130 years a striking change has come over the view held respecting education. Prior to that time an artificial and pedantic method prevailed, which received its first check from the pen of Rousseau. The system which he attacked, however, built up as it was upon centuries of mediaeval learning, was not to be disposed of by this one encounter. Such a result was not to be expected in the natural order of things; but as the ideas of Rousseau contained the living truth, they were bound to find advocacy in due course, and though the seed might lie quiescent for a time, yet it was sure to germinate sooner or later. After him the path of educational reform was illumined by the genius of Pestalozzi, and a few years later Froebel appeared to influence for ever the methods of education. Indeed, it was the latter who by his kindergarten system has founded the practical education of our own day.
The vast change, then, along the whole line of education has been from scholastic learning towards that of education in manual training. This is the truest recognition of the fact that the purpose of education is to prepare a child for his journey through life, and not merely to get him ready for an examination; but although the meaning of education has thus become more apparent, there is still too much a tendency in the present day to burden the developing mind with a multiplicity of subjects. We do not wish to produce a living encyclopaedia, but we desire to create a being, well trained in all his senses, and thoroughly competent to take his part in the battle of life. Far be it from imagining that I decry the advantages of learning in the slightest degree, but surely there is the broadest distinction between a scholastic prodigy and a practical well-informed mortal.
This exaggeration of the function of education expressed by the word multiplicity deserves a little consideration, for it would appear that our educationists overlook the fact that the organism with which they have to deal is going through the most critical period of its existence. At the very time that children are rapidly undergoing the process of physical development, there is superadded the acquirement of elaborate mental knowledge, and when bone and muscle and sinew are in the active processes of transformation and growth, then it is that the intellectual faculties are spurred on at a killing pace. The child leaves school in the afternoon with a load of home lessons to be prepared for the following day. The very meaning of the word school has become distorted; instead of being a medium for imparting instruction, it threatens to become merely a building in which the lessons learned at home overnight are heard, and besides this, if the school is thus to become simply a place for hearing lessons, the office of schoolmaster must correspondingly suffer. This I hope will never be, for it would at once take away all personality from the teacher, and transmute him into a mere auditory machine. His individuality would become lost in the official, and teaching as teaching resolve itself into a stereotyped function; and this latter consideration leads me to remark that one man has the gift of imparting knowledge, in which another fails entirely. One instructor has a way of putting things so that they ale retained in the memory of his pupils for ever, while another so fails to express himself that not one clear idea is carried away by his hearers.
The chief purpose of education should be the preparation of the young for their adult life. As Agesilaus the Great observed when one asked him what boys should learn: "That," said he, "which they shall use when men." But the future of the two sexes differs entirely after school life is over. It will follow, therefore, that there should be an essential difference between the education required for the boy and that for the girl. In our present day system of education, however, there is too much a disposition to make no such distinction. The boy in the greater number of cases is the bread-winner, and has to rely on his own exertions, whether they be manual or mental. The girl, on the other hand, looks forward to the destiny of housewife. This aspect of the educational problem certainly deserves to have more attention paid to it than it has yet received. Still a step in the light direction has been made by James Platt, the author of many valuable works on currency, finance, &c., who advocates that business habits and kindred matters should be taught to all youths. Of course it is not intended that the sole object of education should be the principles of money making, but at the same time there is a considerable amount of truth in his contention. But the chief purpose I have in view is to advocate a thorough and systematic teaching of Cookery to girls. In the remaining part of this chapter, therefore, I shall endeavour to bring forward reasons in support of my proposition.
COOKERY INSTRUCTION IN ENGLAND, NEW SOUTH WALES, AND VICTORIA.
Under this heading I propose to describe briefly what is being done in connection with Cookery Instruction in the places mentioned. Now the principal object I have in view is to further the teaching of Cookery to girls during school life. It will, however, somewhat strengthen my advocacy if I refer to the beginning of this movement in England, for it undoubtedly had its origin in causes quite outside of any educational system. There is no question but that the increased facilities for communication, resulting from the advent of steamships and railways, gave to travel an impetus it never before experienced. And as a result thousands of people in the old country acquired a practical knowledge of Continental life, which would otherwise never have been theirs. These travellers saw for themselves the perfection of Cookery in countries like France, and naturally their eyes were opened to the neglect which culinary matters received in their own land; at least, this seems to me a satisfactory explanation of what has occurred, and I put it forward, therefore, purely as a matter of personal opinion, and whether this is the right reason or not, it is quite certain that a desire for improvement in this direction is insensibly coming over our English people.
It would seem that Mr. Buckmaster gave a series of lectures in the Cookery School at the International Exhibition in 1873 and 1874. As a considerable portion of space was devoted to food, it was rightly thought that some practical remark on the subject would prove of distinct advantage. Just about this time, too, in 1874, a good start was made by the establishment of a National Training School for Cookery at South Kensington. From its inception success seemed to smile upon it. Its numbers began to increase, steadily at first, and afterwards by leaps and bounds. It clearly filled a place that had been wanting; and moreover, the objects it had in view were identified with all that was praiseworthy. It was proof positive of the long cherished opinion as to the neglect of Cookery in a girl's education.
Its courses of instruction are for educated persons who desire to qualify themselves to become teachers of Cookery; for students and cooks; and for those who wish to be able to cook in their own homes. Its distinctive feature, however, lies in its artisan kitchen. It is by means of this that families, which spend from seven to twenty shillings weekly in the purchase of food, will be so greatly benefitted. Nothing can exceed this in importance, for any improvement in the Cookery of the whole bulk of the people becomes a matter of national welfare. A conspicuous instance of the success which has attended the establishment of the National Training School for Cookery is the almost annual appearance of a new edition of its hand-book, which is published under its auspices. Therein will be found a most detailed account of the steps necessary for the preparation of innumerable dishes, and the different instructions are given with a minuteness which leaves nothing to be desired.
At this period, also, the Masters of the Cooks' Company, not to be outdone in anything calculated to promote the progress of the culinary art, had several young girls brought from ward schools, and taught in the artisan kitchen already referred to. Indeed, they were instructed entirely at the expense of the Company. This was liberality of the most commendable kind, and it is satisfactory to see a corporate body acting in such a practical fashion. An ounce of practice is worth a pound of theory.
This growing recognition of the importance of Cookery in the old country at last spread to the educational world, although it has not yet obtained that position which it must eventually acquire; but the ball has been set rolling in the right path, and the necessity for instruction in the culinary art is so self-evident, that there can be no doubt as to the ultimate result. It is gratifying in this connection, therefore, to know that the kindred subject of Elementary Laundry Work has now become part of a girl's education. The Education Code of 1890 contains specific reference to the fact that special and appropriate provision has been made for the practical teaching of Laundry Work, and is also accompanied by instructions to the effect that the appliances and methods employed in teaching should be those which are possible in the homes of working people. I have referred to this in passing, as it directly concerns the point at issue.
It would have been a matter of considerable difficulty for a private individual like myself to have collected authentic information relative to the present status of Cookery in English and Australian schools. Under these circumstances, therefore, I deemed it best to apply directly to head-quarters for official statements. Mr. Edwin Johnson, the courteous Under-Secretary for Public Instruction in New South Wales, willingly undertook to place me in possession of all the facts I required as far as England and this colony are concerned. I shall, therefore, give his account of what is being done in the old country; and next condense from his remarks the substance of what has taken place in New South Wales with regard to this vital matter.
In England, the Education Department conditionally wants aid to Cookery Instruction in connection with State Aided Primary Schools under the following stipulations: what provision as to buildings, &c., has been made for Cookery Instruction in accordance with the conditions prescribed. The Department then grants aid at the rate of four shillings per head in day schools, and two shillings per head in evening, or, as they are sometimes called, "continuation" schools, on the number of pupils in the fourth and higher standards presented for examination in Cookery. The classes are taught by ordinary Primary School Teachers who have been trained in Cookery work, and have obtained certificates of qualifications. Under the London School Board, Cookery classes are established in different centres in connection with a large number of the schools; and to a less extent similar classes are organized by the School Boards of some of the larger country towns. Grants from the Education Department are annually obtained for the work by these schools.
In New South Wales, the teaching of Cookery in connection with the Public Schools has long been advocated; and about ten years ago, special lectures on the subject, and demonstrations, were given under authority; these did not, however, then lead to any practical results. Early in 1886, Mrs. Fawcett Story, who had previously taught Cookery successfully in connection with the Sydney Technical College, was appointed, on probation, lecturer and demonstrator in Cookery and Domestic Economy to the students at Hurlstone Training College, the object being to qualify such students as Instructors of Cookery for schools in which they would in the future be employed as teachers. After three months successful work at Hurlstone, Mrs. Story's appointment was confirmed and she has continued to carry on the work. At first appointed "Instructress," she now takes rank as "Directress of Cookery."
In 1889 a Cookery class was established at the Fort Street Public School, and this proving successful, the instruction was extended to other schools. Three classes of work were embodied in the plan arranged to be carried out, namely:—
* 1. An Elementary Cookery Course, * * 2. A Plain, or Intermediate Cookery Course, * * 3. A Teachers' Course, * and at the close of 1890 the numbers receiving instruction had reached 270.
In 1891 the work was extended to the Sydney and Suburban Schools. Classes were also established in connection with those of Bathurst and Goulburn, and arrangements for training a class of Pupil Teachers in this important work were made and carried out. In 1891 the number under Cookery Instruction in connection with the school reached 757, and during the year 1892 arrangements were also made for extending Cookery Instruction among the masses of the people on the basis already described.
It should also be remembered that classes for Cookery Instruction have for some years past been established in connection with the Technical College in Sydney, and more recently in the similar colleges of the larger towns and centres.
As far as Victoria is concerned, I am under considerable obligation to Mr. T. Brodribb, the Secretary of the Education Office, Melbourne, for the following information. It would appear that although the subject has not been systematically taught throughout the schools, instruction in Cookery has been given by experts to the elder female pupils in a number of Metropolitan State Schools for the past two years; two courses of 12 lessons being undertaken in each school between the months of April and November. The instruction has consisted of the preparation of plain wholesome dishes and sickroom Cookery; the proper care and arrangement of the various utensils employed forming an important part of each lesson. Reports obtained from Head Teachers show that, in most cases, the lessons were productive of much benefit to the children, and were thoroughly appreciated. At present, however, the teaching of the subject has been temporarily interrupted; but it is to be hoped that before long a recognition of its vital importance will enable measures to be taken for its permanent continuance.
COOKERY IN ITS RELATION TO HEALTH.
We are drawing nearer and nearer to an appreciation of the power which Cookery wields in the preservation of health, but this awakening as to its value has been too tardy, indeed, it has been from a slumber of centuries. Not that good Cookery has not been practised from time immemorial, but its recognition from a scientific point of view is almost within our own day; and even at the present time, dietetics, or that department of medicine which relates to food and diet, is only gradually assuming a position which is destined ultimately to become second to none. Moreover, there is still ample room for improvement in this direction, and matters will not be rectified till a comprehensive study of food and its preparation, both for the healthy as well as the sick, is embodied in the curriculum of modern medical education.
Not so long ago THE LANCET made reference to the Edinburgh School of Cookery and Domestic Economy, which had been opened by the Princess Louise. It was pointed out that good cookery had more to do with health and comfort, and therefore with domestic happiness, than any other known accomplishment. In the same article, moreover, it was remarked that it would be out of all keeping with the position of Edinburgh as a medical centre, if the importance, in sickness, of good cookery and suitable food were not fully recognised. In conclusion, the same authority expressed the hope that this commendable example would be adopted by many other towns.
All this is satisfactory in showing that the preparation of food for the table is a subject which can no longer be pooh-poohed, and there are other signs and tokens which unmistakably point to the same conclusion. As a proof of this it is only necessary to point to the fact that eminent physicians have written prefaces to works on cookery, and more than this, have contributed to the literature of the same. There is a very excellent handbook by Phillis Browne, to which the late Sir J. Risdon Bennett, a former President of the Royal College of Physicians, London, contributed the prefatory note. In it he remarks, the value of wholesome and properly-cooked food has never been sufficiently understood or appreciated in the United Kingdom. "In scarcely any other country," says he, "does so much prejudice and ignorance prevail on the subject of food and its employment." And in proceeding to speak of the growing tendency to make instruction in cookery a part of ordinary education, he adds that this must be a subject for sincere rejoicing with those who desire both the moral and physical welfare of the poorer classes. This is not the only evidence of interest which the same physician took in this matter, for he has also written an admirable and lengthy article on Food and its Uses in Health.
But there is another writer to whom the English speaking people are deeply indebted for a knowledge of all that pertains to food and cookery; I refer to Sir Henry Thompson, the eminent London surgeon. His work on FOOD AND Feeding has already run through six editions, and one can only hope that he will long be enabled to benefit his race by a succession of issues. He has written other volumes on the same subject, and further, by his contributions to THE NINETEENTH CENTURY and The Lancet, he has materially raised the status of the culinary art. And there are also quite a number of works on diet, and on food, written by well-known authorities in the medical world, so that the science of dietetics must eventually attain an unassailable position.
The preceding naturally leads up to the main point, namely, the controlling influence which cookery exercises over health. Now if I were asked to name the one single cause which produces more indigestion than anything else, I should unhesitatingly answer, bad Cookery. Many people Fun away with the idea that good Cookery is necessarily elaborate Cookery, and that in consequence it is quite beyond the ordinary purse. Such is not, by any means, the case, and as a matter of fact good Cookery aims at getting the best possible results at the least possible cost. Herein lies the excellence of French Cookery, and as I have occasion to remark elsewhere, the bulk of the population in that country live infinitely better than does the average Briton.
Indigestion, then, is the great primary result of bad cookery. But, on the other hand, let us hear what Dr. Lauder Brunton has to say on the score of food when properly prepared. "Savoury food," says he, "causes the digestive juices to be freely secreted; well cooked and palatable food is therefore more digestible than unpalatable, and if the food lacks savour, a desire naturally arises to supply it by condiments, not always well selected or wholesome."
But important as good Cookery, in itself, may be in its influence upon health, there is still another essential, which must not be overlooked. And it is that of variety. The oft-quoted phrase of TOUJOURS PERDRIX bears upon this very point. It is a way of saying that even a luscious dish when constantly repeated becomes wearisome, or, in other words, that there is too much of the same thing over and over again. And if a ceaseless repetition of the same dish—however well it may be cooked—palls upon the palate, it is at least certain that it is equally burdensome to the stomach. Dr. Horace Dobell well expresses this fact when he says that it is of the highest importance to avoid unnecessarily limiting the variety of food allowed to all persons, but especially to those of poor appetites and troublesome digestions. Monotonous, uninteresting meals depress the spirits and are subversive of appetite, digestion, and nutrition.
COOKERY AS A PREVENTIVE OF DRUNKENNESS.
Plutarch tells us that Themistocles laughing at his own son, who got his mother, and by his mother's means his father also, to indulge him, said to the boy that he had the most power of anyone in Greece: "For the Athenians command the rest of Greece, I command the Athenians, your mother commands me, and you command your mother." In the same way it is easy to make a defective system of education responsible for much of the existing drunkenness. First of all we have a scheme of education which fails to provide instruction in a girl's domestic duties; then we have the wife who undertakes the task for which she has never been properly trained; next, instead of well-cooked and very much varied meals, we have a conspicuous and a disastrous failure; and finally, we have the bread-winner driven to the public-house—and happiness has left that home for ever. But this is an old story, yet, unfortunately, it is a true one; and it will continue to be true until a clearer perception of what a domestic training should be is more universally recognised. I am sure that I do not exaggerate when I say that millions of our English-speaking race are living this life without the slightest glimmering of what domestic content might be theirs. Surely the word "home" for the artisan should signify something more than a place where he is badly fed. Still, it is a solemn fact that no more concrete definition of the word has ever been forthcoming. Now, such a state of affairs cannot be excused on the score of expense, for the crowning triumph of good Cookery is its very cheapness.
It has already been mentioned that the late Sir J. Risdon Bennett did not think it beneath his dignity to write a prefatory note to a Cookery Book. He has also pointed out that Cookery is a subject which deserves more attention at the hands of those who have the welfare of temperance at heart. He believed that a knowledge of wholesome Cookery would do much to make home happy; to keep the men away from dissipation and intemperance; and to make the children healthy and cheerful. The same idea is expressed by Sylvester, who remarked that Cookery should be most popular, because every individual human being is directly interested in its success. As he says, the real comfort of the majority of men is sought for in their own homes, and every effort should be made to increase domestic happiness by inducing them to remain at home. And long, long ago a quaint old book, Markham's English Housewife, published in 1637, contained the idea in a nutshell, as the following quotation will show: "To speak, then, of the knowledges which belong to our English housewife, I hold the most principal to be a perfect skill in Cookery. She that is utterly ignorant therein, may not, by the laws of strict justice, challenge the freedom of marriage—because, indeed, shee can perform but half her vow—shee may love and obey, but shee cannot cherish and keepe her husband."