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, 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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.