OPEN-MOUTH BREATHING.

[A]In accordance with a universal law of nature,—“the conservation of energy,”—“gastric juice,” upon which digestion depends, “is secreted from the blood by the glands of the stomach, in proportion to the needs of the organism for food, and not in proportion to the amount of food swallowed.” There is, therefore, a normal dyspepsia for whatever of excess is taken. Moreover, in such cases, none of the food is well digested.

[B]Ptyalin, a vegetable matter contained in healthy saliva, has very peculiar properties: “if mixed with starch and kept at a moderate warm temperature, it turns that starch into grape-sugar. The importance of this operation becomes apparent when one reflects that starch is insoluble, and therefore, as such, useless as nutriment, while the sugar formed from it is highly soluble, and readily oxidizable.”—Huxley.

Note the special elements tending to insure successin the case of self-treatment just given: The courage, prevalent good temper (so rarely found in these cases), and determination to win (equally rare), did much, very much, toward conquering her disease; but it is more than doubtful if these alone would have sufficed: her success in winning the family over to her radical views, or, at least, in gaining their entire co-operation, was a marked feature looking toward a final victory. None of them ventured to discourage her,—all joined heartily in the work. Had she sat at an ordinary table, one crowded with “good things”; and had her friends persisted in entreating her to eat this, that, and the other thing, it is probable that her good resolutions would have failed, sooner or later,—her life paying the forfeit. And this leads me to mention a most important feature of what has come to be known as the “Salisbury Treatment”: “Meals are to be taken at regular intervals, and the patient should eat either alone or with those who are using the same diet, and not sit down at a table where others are indulging in all kinds of food. He should take a good draught—one or two cupfuls—of warm water an hour before each meal; a sponge-bath two or three mornings,[37]and acomfortablefull bath once a week. For the latter use a little pure Castile soap, but rinse thoroughly. Air-baths and sun-baths are also of great importance. (See ‘Air-baths,’)Flannel worn next the skin [I should say, that the year round, cotton underwear is far better], and the clothing frequently changed and aired. As much open-air exercise as can be borne without fatigue, or thorough rubbing and pounding of the body [or squeezing of the muscles of the entire body, with a firm grasp of the attendant’s hand] morning and evening for those too weak to take exercise.”

[37]If desirable, this bath may be taken later in the day; but it shouldneveroccur within one hour before, nor until at least three hours after any meal. The temperature of the water should be agreeable with sensitive patients, but gradually lowered from day to day, untilcoolwater becomes agreeable.

It is the prevalent belief that hot food is desirable especially for feeble persons, inclined to chilliness; but while smoking-hot dishes produce a temporary feeling of warmth and comfort, this is usually succeeded by a “reaction,” producing a still greater degree of chilliness: the congestion excited by the presence of the hot food or drink, soon subsides, leaving the stomach anæmic, delaying digestion, perhaps preventing it altogether. Cool food, properly masticated, acquires in the mouth a normal temperature, and thus enters the stomach without producing the unnatural stimulation which arises from the ingestion of hot food, and which is likely, in the case of feeble persons, to cause, secondarily, most mischievous effects. A single mistake of this sort may excite congestion of the lungs, and undo the good work of weeks of right living. This can not seem incredible, in view of the fact that a single excessive meal often excites an attack of congestion of the lungs in the case of robust persons. True, in these instances the disorder is usually attributed to “a sudden cold,” whether the victim can or can not recall any exposure, but the fact is as I have stated. I have had manyinstances like the following: A business man, accustomed to an outdoor life, rises in the morning after a good night’s sleep, feeling as well as usual; eats a hearty breakfast, dons his overcoat, walks briskly to his place of business, and entering thehot, close office, perhaps within thirty minutes from the time of rising from the breakfast-table, he finds himself so hoarse that he can hardly make himself understood, and feels a pressure at the lungs indicating a great degree of congestion. There is but one way to explain this: a predisposition; a hot meal, rapidly eaten; active exercise taken immediately thereafter, and while the stomach is engorged with food—what more is needed? The wonder is, not that this man is suddenly made sick, but, rather, that he is not oftener so.

The consumptive will often derive great benefit from a full stomach-bath daily, consisting of about a pint of tepid water rapidly swallowed, on rising or an hour before breakfast. This will not create nausea or excite vomiting, unless there is occasion for these symptoms, arising from the presence of undigested food; but it will prove healing, prevent thirst and the necessity for drinking with, or directly after, meals—although, whenever there is thirst, the patient should drink pure cool water, moderately, but to his satisfaction, finally. It is better, however, as a rule, to drink regularly, an hour or so before each meal, such an amount as suffices topreventthirst, while not causing a feeling of discomfort soon after drinking. A little practice, with careful observation, will soon enable the patient to judge how much to take.

I am not going to recommend the consumptive, nor any person, well or ill, to do all or much of his breathing through the mouth; on the contrary, I agree that the nostrils were designed to warm and filter the air, and that in general this is necessary. But there are times when the atmosphere does not require to befilteredand when it had better not bewarmed; and I wish to do away with all fear of danger from casual or occasional open-mouth breathing, especially in theopen air, and in winter, or at any season when there is freedom from dust, and regardless of the weather, and the time of day or night. For “sore” or irritated throat and bronchi, or oppressed lungs, I have found persistent open-mouth breathing of pure cold air curative in its tendency; and have myself, upon occasion, gone out on a winter’s night, to walk and breathe in this manner by the hour. Consumptives are often subject to attacks of dyspnœa (difficult breathing), but rarely, if ever, do they come on out of doors; it is rather, when, having been vouchsafed a little pure respiratory food, the lungs are again forced to respire the hot, poisoned, make-believe air of the home, that the congestion takes place. And this may be set down as the only danger in the premises, viz.: the return from the fresh, pure and bracing atmosphere without, to the over-heated and under-ventilated living-rooms. The remedy, then, for an attack under such circumstances would be found in throwing open the doors and windows—keepingwell wrapped or warm in bed—rather than in sealing the crevices and piling on fuel. Evenpneumonia, most dreaded of “diseases,” in which the lungs are congested to engorgement, is now being successfully treated on this principle—the persistent open-mouth breathing of out-door air, if in the winter, or the same, drawn through an ice-packed refrigerator—(scrupulously clean and profusely ventilated), if the weather be warm; the patient, meanwhile, beingwarmin bed, though never sweltered with wraps [the aim being to balance the temperature, by cooling the head, heating the feet, and exposing and sponging the feverish surface, as may be indicated], and supplied with a proper face-piece to which is attached a flexible tube, through which the cold air is passed direct to the lungs; this manner of breathing to beconstantanduninterrupted, hour after hour, and throughout the night, if necessary (neverremittent), until the temperature of the patient, as indicated by the thermometer placed under the arm, is reduced to about the normal point (98.2° F.), and the pressure at the lungs relieved. The philosophy of this treatment is as evident as is that of the playing of an engine upon the hottest part of a fire.

The bed and its covering constitute the night-clothes, and for the bed-ridden patient day-clothes as well. Therefore, we can hardly place too much importance upon the bed and its appointments. And yet, in view of all that has been said relating to cleanlinessand wholesomeness, in a general way, but few words are necessary to tell the story. The bed may be of straw, even, and still, if full, fresh, and well-made, be every way sufficient for comfort and health,—better, indeed, than a poor or long-used mattress of any sort;—a mattress of hair, cotton, or wool makes a complete bed. A feather bed is the worst of all. Whatever the bed may be, it should remain open and airing whenever the patient is out of it for any length of time; hence the bed-room should not be the sitting-room when avoidable. Patients confined to the bed altogether, should, if possible, have two—one for day the other for night use—each kept airing during all the time it is unoccupied, and, when practicable, placed in the open air and in the sunshine a portion of the day; the more the better. After the cotton or linen sheets, the covering (of as little weight as is consistent with comfort) should, in place of the common “comfortables,” consist of woolen blankets, which, being porous, are less “stifling” to the body (see foot-note, p.171), and permit of being readily cleansed and dried; and they should be thus treated as often as once in three or four weeks, at least, and oftener if the thorough airing recommended is not given them. The “sick-room” should be the “healthiest” room in the house—bright, sunny, and made as “cheery” as possible. No “long-faces” should enter it; there should be no “croning about”—no constant “how-do-you-feel-to-days,” nor subdued looks or airs. Carry along a happy, cheery face and tone, or keep out of the sick-room altogether. Above all, no mind-picturesabout eating, eating, eating—unless, the patient is past hope!

As well as when up and about, is a matter of importance to the sick or well. With the sick, the habit of “rounding up” to the disease is every way prejudicial. Consumptives are especially inclined to seek present ease to their ultimate hurt. It should be one of the aims, in “lung difficulties,” to increase the breadth of the chest in order to give more room for the expansion of the lungs; and this demands increased efforts to expand the lungs, and to push the shoulders back—gradually, very gradually, never to the extreme, but with steady persistence. No radical and immediate change must be looked for; none can be accomplished, in any direction, whether in the shape of the body, quality of lung tissue, or breathing power; but a gradual transformation may be inaugurated, and ensured by means of persistent effort, as the general health improves. It is best to lie, at least much of the time spent in bed, as nearly flat upon the back as possible, slightly inclining toward the side, or alternating between the two positions, with the head low; arms and legs “at ease,” the latter not drawn or “curled” up, but slightly relaxed. If the general regimen is strictly hygienic, the position as thus described will, so far from working any harm, prove of advantage—favoring free breathing, as well as the fullest rest of the body. Where there is shortness of breath and difficulty inbreathing, the patient is inclined to cultivate the habit of narrowing the shoulders, and so bolstering himself in bed as to still further shorten the breath, thus temporarily easing the difficulty, but finally increasing the disease. He needs to courageously take the opposite course (never rashly, however), and meet the consequences, which are likely to be manifested in some increase of coughing and raising—the very things he needs to do, but which he is apt to shrink from as much as possible. In avoiding natural “expectorants,” the necessity for artificial ones seems to arise. In the one case he raises with some effort what, in his present state, may be described as the normal amount of mucus; in the other, expectoration is easier because there is more to raise. The former is curative; the latter tends to fatality.

Well knowing that sexual indulgence constitutes one of the most fruitful causes of this disease—of decline, in short, however exhibited—I will conclude by saying, that the consumptive shouldneverdepart from the rule of strict continence. (See Appetite.) No language can exaggerate the importance of this injunction for a person who is even threatened with decline, if he means to eradicate his disease. The sexual and the nervous systems (including the brain) act and react upon one another, keeping both abnormally alert, and these upon the digestive and assimilative, through the sympathetic, altogether making a quadrangular fight well calculated to impair—to break down, indeed—the strongest constitution; while with the less vigorous (often the most lascivious; or, maybe,the victim of a libidinous but otherwise considerate companion) the case is hopeless, unless the true remedy is applied. The patient should sleep alone, if possible, not even the husband or wife sharing the bed—a rule which, from every point of view, is of importance to both the patient and the attendant.

Note.—The underlying principle of this work prohibits the idea of a specific and exclusive treatment for this, that, and the otherdiseasementioned; for these are named simply in order that we may make a beginning toward understanding the termsickness: the entire volume, from preface to finis, is a treatise on the origin of sickness, its prevention and cure. In view of this, we can not leave the consumptive here, while the dyspeptic, the rheumatic, or thedouloureux-tic is invited to a consideration of his peculiar symptoms,—for these, in large measure, are mere accidents, since the rheumatic of to-day may be the paralytic of to-morrow, and the dyspeptic of this year the consumptive next, and so on. But all classes, and all who wish to inform themselves as to what makes pain and sickness, and what ends these symptoms, should study carefully the various chapters, omitting none.

Temporary non-action of the bowels as excretory organs, is entirely normal under certain conditions, as (1) following diarrhœa or looseness, whether caused by indigestion or physic, (2) throughout the period of a fast, (3) for the mother, several days (varying from 3 to 10), at confinement,[38]and (4) at such other timesas “Nature finds it necessary to muster all the energies of the system for some special purpose, momentarily of paramount importance,” as in alarming sicknesses where, accompanied by lack of appetite, the bowels remain closed for a considerable period of time. In none of these circumstances should there be continued efforts to excite action. In the last-named instance the lower bowel may need a clearing out by free injection at thebeginning, and whenever there are fecal matters to remove; but when convalescence is established, the appetite and strength have returned, food is taken and digested, the bowels will act of their own accord. The practice of forestalling nature in this matter by using physic or injections is often the cause of much mischief—it is an impertinent interference in nature’s plans, and is seldom useful. If the sufferer is never fed, except at convalescence and when anatural appetitehas returned, and then only with plain, wholesome food,—restricting the quantity to the present capacity for digestion and absorption,—the evacuation of the lower bowel may be awaited without any feeling of anxiety or alarm at its seeming tardiness. Returning strength is the only needed physic.

[38]The very common practice of administering purgatives or injections a few days after confinement is not only unnecessary—it is fraught with mischief and often with disaster. I have known of instances where robust women were kept sick, and dangerously so, in bed for weeks in consequence of the free use of oil administered by the physician (according to his invariable practice) on the third and succeeding days. At her next confinement, one lady who had suffered as above, having lived hygienically during the gestation period, suffered very little pain, was on her feet, washed and dressed her baby, and had a natural movement on the second day. In another case purgation was attempted on the third day and, oil not acting promptly, the total results of profuse injections at intervals for the next three days, was, on thesixthday, to bring away about ateaspoonful of strawberry seeds, the residue of berries eaten on the previous day. It is evident that the food was well digested and absorbed into the circulation, and that no fecal matters were secreted; hence no occasion for the bowels to “move,” in the common understanding of the term. In cases where women approaching confinement are troubled with constipation (entirely unnecessary if they will live properly), the lower bowel should be evacuated by the aid of free injections prior to delivery; but succeeding that event nature may well be left to herself for a time. Nature, however, does not have a fair chance where patients of this class are overfed; hence, and hence only, the necessity for “aiding” her in moving the bowels.

In case of severe constipation, injections—internal baths, so to say—may be employed in emergencies, but infrequently and with extreme care, lest they aggravate the evil and provoke others. Although in no sense as injurious as purgative medicines, which inevitably impair the nutritive organs, still enemas should never be depended on for daily movements.Next to a correct dietary, with liberal exercise in the open air, one of the best aids in promoting regular action of the bowels is, in my opinion, passive exercise—kneading of the bowels for say five minutes or more before each meal—and the more active exercise of, say, imitating for a few minutes the arms-and-body swinging motions of a mower in the hay-field; spending another few minutes in hopping up and down, twice on each foot alternately, while “keeping time” by slapping the thighs and swaying the body to the right and left; stooping and rising, bending forward and back, etc.; twisting the body around, first one way and then the other, with the hips as the pivotal point (at stool this last greatly facilitates the ejective process), etc., etc. Sedentary persons, and all who feel “chilly” at times, will find, upon trial, that a few minutes devoted to such exercise, occasionally, or whenever the need is felt, will be far more satisfactory than extra garments, or hovering about the fire: it sets the blood a-tingling in the veins and warms a body up.[39](See Consumption,for general regimen as to diet, air, exercise, clothing.) If for a time the bowels are willful in the matter of demanding rest to complete a process of healing going on in the diseased glands when there has been distention and irritation, or until a reformed dietary shall have strengthened the general system when, from any cause, it has been under-nourished, and there is, consequently, no action for two, three, or even four days at a time, it need occasion no alarm, and the novice will be surprised to see how natural a movement will finally reward his or her patience in awaiting the call of nature, instead of badgering her into unnatural activity. It must be remembered that it isgood health that ensures daily movements, and notdaily movements good health. Indeed, when produced by hook or crook, as is often the rule with infants, and adults, even, they do much harm. Daily purgations or injections are made necessary only by gross feeding; and if the latter abuse be persisted in it may be best to move the bowels frequently at all hazards. Under the influence of this combination, however, the small intestines are often so disordered as to impair, even destroy, their power of assimilating food, and together with the colon, or large intestine, become so torpid as almost to require the use of dynamite to move them.

[39]William Cullen Bryant,—a most worthy model, mentally, morally, and physically—thus explains how he had “reached a pretty advanced period of life without the usual infirmities of old age.” Next to his abstemious and mostly vegetable diet, and pure moral life, we may well agree with him in the belief that his wonderful preservation was largely due to his custom of going to bed early and early rising, and “for a full hour, immediately upon rising, with very little encumbrance of clothing, taking a series of exercises, designed to expand the chest, and at the same time call into action all the muscles and articulations of the body,” followed by a bath “from head to foot.”—Hygiene of the Brain: $1.50[C]New York, M. L. Holbrook.

[C]This most valuable work contains letters from a score or more of eminent men and women who have lived to advanced age, descriptive of their living habits. The similarity of their mode of life is a feature worthy of remark.

Strainingat stool is, beyond a slight degree, abnormal, or is made necessary only by abnormal conditions, which render defecation difficult; it tends to perpetuate and increase the difficulty, and should notbe practiced ordinarily. The congestion and engorgement of the blood-vessels in the region of the rectum and anus from various causes, as retained fecal matters, or irritation and congestion of the genital organs (which two causes act and react upon each other), produce hemorrhoids (piles), and this complaint is aggravated by the straining referred to. In such cases resort must be had to cool or tepid injections for a time. One effect of deep breathing, from either exercise or habit—filling the lungs in such a manner as to press the diaphragm downward—is to cause regular pressure on the bowels, which aids in exciting their vermicular motion, and facilitates the action, both of the small intestines as digesters, and of the lower bowel in its secretory and excretory functions. The “movement,” when natural, consists ofwaste matters secreted from the bloodby the glands of the colon, and not, as is popularly supposed, of food substances, at least not to any considerable degree. When it does (and I am bound to say that this is the rule, rather than the exception), it is because the person has eaten at leastthat muchmore than he ought. A good rule for many who suffer tortures of mind because of constipation would be: mind your own business and let your bowels mind theirs. Strive not tohavemovements, but rather todeservethem. That is, attend to the general health by living hygienically, and the bowels will, if givenregular opportunity, move when there is anything to move for! With infants or young children, a little excess of food will, at first, occasion a little looseness, or increased action, usually;deficiency in diet would cause constipation. The remedy in either case is plain: a little less food in the one case, a little more in the other. The first symptom, looseness, could not result from deficiency in diet, that is, if the deficiency related to quantity solely—the quality being plain and digestible. Tanner had no movement during his fast; Griscomb’s experience was similar, and Connolly, the consumptive, who fasted forty-three days, had no movement for three weeks, and then the temporary looseness was occasioned by profuse water-drinking, which in his case proved curative. In common life, it is rare indeed that constipation is the result of a deficient diet, although it often arises from lack of nourishment consequent upon excess, or an unwholesome variety of food, or both. Usually it may be regarded as the “reaction” from over-action. The not uncommon experience, in regular order, is this: Excess in diet, diarrhœa, constipation, physic or enema, purgation, worse constipation, more physic, and so on. The term reaction here means simply that the organs involved having been irritated by undigested food, and having by means of increased action cleared away the obstructions, now seek restoration by the most natural method, as the name itself implies—rest. What are commonly called diseases are in reality cures; and the common practice, with drug doctors, of

is like answering the cries and gesticulations of a drowning man with a knock on the head. If whenthese intestinal disorders arise, or have become serious, their chief cause—over-feeding—be kept up, the next of nature’s remedies may be inflammation of stomach or bowels, or both, followed, perhaps, bydysentery, which is the most serious phase of constipation. These are very alarming symptoms, and demand entire abstinence from food until they are considerably abated; pure water should be given freely, and, when possible, exercise to some degree in the open air; tepid water injections, followed by gentle kneading of the bowels for a few minutes, occasionally, to promote the circulation in that region, thus favoring the cleansing and healing process. The appearance of a little fresh blood, even, following this treatment, should not excite alarm; on the contrary, it is,per se, a favorable symptom. This special phase of the subject is treated more at length in the author’s work entitled “How to Feed the Baby.”

A very common mistake with the laity, and often enough made by physicians in diagnosing this complaint, is that of considering a comfortable daily movement conclusive proof that the bowels are not constipated. Few people have tongues that are entirely clean, and a coating there indicates, unmistakably, a worse one of the stomach and intestines.[40]The daily—perhaps semi-daily—action is the result of purgation often, though they would scorn the idea of taking physic—the quantity or quality of their food being such as to cause a degree of indigestion and consequent irritation sufficient to produce purgativeeffects. While this condition can be endured, all seems to be going along well. There is, to be sure, more or less of acidity, sour stomach, eructations of acrid matters (see the Salisbury theory in article on Consumption), flatulence, headache, neuralgic or rheumatic pains—more or less in number of the scores of ailments so common as to be considered almost normal—but not immediately any serious or alarming complaint. But, after a time, longer or shorter, according to the constitution of the individual, the movements become less satisfactory—irregular and not as profuse as common, and are passed with some difficulty, perhaps. Next to the mistake of resorting to drugs in these cases, is the quite common one of swallowing special kinds of food for the same purpose, and there, is some question as to which of the two evils is the least. An excessive quantity of rye mush, wheaten grits, or oat groats, with a generous dressing of butter, syrup, milk, or honey to wash it down in abnormal haste, will often purge the bowels like the most drastic poison. Active exercise in the open air, taken in conjunction with a proper diet, would prove curative; but in default of this the case goes from bad to worse, until in spite of all the efforts made, the constipation becomes more and more obstinate, various symptoms increasing in degree and new ones appearing, until there almost certainly follows a severe “attack” of some sort: whether this be typhoid, bilious, rheumatic, or scarlet fever, erysipelas, diphtheria, or what not, depends upon the age, surroundings, and diathesis of the patient.

[40]See chapter on Consumption.

All such attacks may be called Nature’s kill-or-cure remedies when, as a last resort, she is forced to adopt “heroic treatment”; but aid her in the Natural Cure and she is most kind.

Note.—Attention is called to the notes following Consumption, and Bright’s Disease.

In its later stages, this is one of the worst forms of disease. It is often said to be caused by “cold.” There can be no doubt but what a person whose kidneys are already badly diseased, and, consequently, his whole system depraved, may have a violent illness excited by extreme exposure to wet and cold. The same may be said in case of one reduced by any exhausting form of disease; but sound-bodied men, living hygienically, could never have this disease, whatever the degree of cold they might have to endure. On the contrary, this disease is not known among the residents of the polar regions; our own explorers among the ice-fields of the north do not have it, although exposed for long periods to a temperature at 40° to 60° F. below zero, and to changes of so extreme a character that our temperate climate affords no parallel to them. “In the accounts of Arctic expeditions, though the most intense cold was often endured, under circumstances of great fatigue, by men previously weakened by disease and hardship, this is not among the diseases from which they suffered. Dr. Kane’s men, though enduring extreme cold, exposedon one occasion for seventy-two hours at a mean temperature of 41° below zero, suffered fearfully from frost-bite and scurvy, but not from any renal affection. Other travelers within the Arctic circle bear the same testimony, and I have been informed by those familiar with the cold districts of North America, that there renal dropsy is unknown.”[41]“The travelers in the frigid zone are exposed to far greater and more sudden transitions of temperature than are ever felt in our changeable but temperate climate. Capt. Parry states that his men often underwent a sudden change of 120°, in passing from the cabin of the vessel to the outer air, and yet none but the most trifling complaints resulted. Here we have all the circumstances from which experience would lead us to anticipate renal disease, viz.: great preceding depression, intense and protracted cold suddenly applied.... Extreme cold,” continues Dr. Dickinson (ibid.) “though it may stop cutaneous exhalation, probably does not allow the material that would cause renal inflammation to accumulate. Cold increases the action of oxygen and gives rise to increased combustion of the solids and fluids of the body. This condition, as I have emphasized elsewhere repeatedly, occasions a demand for a large amount of food daily, to supply the waste, and exalts the digestive powers correspondingly. The moral of all this, for those who, living in a temperate climate, would avoid these disorders—all physical disorders,indeed—is thathere the above conditions can not obtain to the extent of rendering possible the digestionandabsorptionofthree full meals a day. Only under exceptional circumstances aretwosuch meals ever thoroughly digested and assimilated—they can never be, unless needed; and this fact is not disproved simply because inexperts do not recognize the symptoms of indigestion which everywhere prevail among themselves. Some of the most incorrigible workers, with both brain and muscle, known to me, take butone meal a day,[42]and this because they found the change necessary in order to enable them to perform their arduous labors and preserve their health. Others similarly situated divide this meal intotwo halves—taking a small meal morning and night, or, better than the latter, a lunch in the morning, and at night, after ample rest, the principal meal. No person ever tried this plan and found any need of a change because of lack of nourishment.[43]I mention this last point to meet the stock objection of people who essay to escape from the logic of the position—the necessity for the modification of their own dietetic habits—behind the old dogma, ‘one’s meat is another’s poison.’ (See p.43.) It is entirely probable that a robust man (a frail one would succumb to the exposure, with or without food) exposed for days together, and for the entire twenty-fourhours, to the extreme cold of winter, exercising vigorously meantime, could eat three full meals a day and escape digestive disorder. The habit of approximating as nearly as possible to this diet, in a temperate climate, or while the bodily warmth is maintained by artificial heat, originates the greater proportion of our ailments; while lack of exercise, and the folly of attempting to oxygenate this excessive quantity of food with air that is breathed over and over again—a process which one writer likens to eating one’s own fœces—amply accounts for the balance.

[41]“Treatise on Albuminuria,” by W. Howship Dickinson, M.D., F.R.C.P., etc., p. 54.

[42]See note on The One-Meal System.

[43]The fact is—and it can not be made too prominent—ninety-nine in the hundred, of all classes of people, eat in excess of their needs, and the “small eater,” eating without appetite, eats, relatively speaking, more excessively than the gross-feeder whose appetite never fails.

“By cold the respiratory function is exalted, and the excretion of urea is diminished. With the intense cold of the North Pole (and in theopen air), the introduction of oxygen by the lungs is probably so great, and the oxidation in the body so active, that all material susceptible of such action becomes oxidized, as much of it as can be converted into carbonic acid passing out with the breath. The kidneys, therefore, are not liable, as in temperate climates, to be irritated by excrementitious matter, for the stress of excretion falls upon the lungs.” (Ibid.) The practical question then is, What can we do, in this particular climate, that shall tend to give us exemption from a disease that can not exist at the poles, where the cold is intense enough to require a man to eat all he can, nor at the tropics, when the heat is met with a diet of juicy fruits?[44](See article onFruits.) Simply this, and nothing more; so regulate the diet as to forbid indigestion, or, in other words, eat according to our needs, as governed by work and weather; and all that has been said about the cause and prevention of “colds” (see C.) is applicable right here.

[44]Sojourners from the North, at the tropics, are exempt from disease so long as they live on the fruits of the soil; but a beef and brandy regimen makes short work with them.

Winter weather (inoperative, however, for those who spend their time in close, warm rooms), scant clothing, much exercise, fresh air—these conditions, so far as present, and to the extent of a man’s subjection to them, require a larger quantity of food than could be digested under opposite conditions, and tend to mitigate the effects of over-indulgence as to amount and quality. In our climate, however, not one person in ten thousand lives, even in the coldest weather, sufficiently under these influences to require the diet necessary at the poles, viz., three full meals of mixed food, largely composed of fat. Hence, the only palliatives a person can resort to, who adheres to the prevalent mode of living, as to diet, are those conditions that approach as nearly as possible to those obtaining in the frigid zone; but these conditions can not be, at least are not, enjoyed here, to a point rendering exemption from disease possible even for the most robust. But when we reflect upon the fact that our people are not, as a rule, robust (although this would be otherwise but for the unbalanced circumstances under consideration), that they live in warm rooms, wear heavy clothing even within doors, and don thick wraps on going out, work as little as possible (all tendingto the need of abstemiousness), and that in the face of all this they do not, at least to any appreciable extent, voluntarily restrict their appetites, but do, in fact, even in summer, imitate the blubber-eaters of the North, nearer than they do the fruit-eaters of the South; that Sabbath morning finds the New Englander, for example, gorging himself with pork and beans, hot brown bread dripping with butter, hot, strong coffee, etc.; Tuesday, roast-beef, with plenty of gravy; Wednesday—“boiled mutton, with caper sauce,” and so on to Saturday’s boiled dinner, of corned-beef, greasy cabbage, etc. (the diet of the poor differing chiefly in the quality, or price per pound), and this just the same during the warmest week in winter as during the coldest, and regardless of any of the possibly varying circumstances, as hard work out of doors, or light work, or none at all, within; and that this same folly runs into and becomes greater folly in the spring and summer even, except so far as nausea or lack of appetite cause an involuntary modification,—in view of all this we need not look altogether, nor indeed at all, to heredity to account for the wretched disorders to which we, as a people, are subject, and which prevail to an extent almost transforming our literary and art periodicals into indirect partnership-relations with the manufacturers of quack “remedies” for all forms of sickness; this class of advertiserspaytoo liberally to exclude their flaunting lies. I look almost in vain for even a religious journal that refuses to devote any portion of its space to medical advertisements. Do our religiouseditors themselves believe in, and take, the “pills” they advertise?

Bright’s Disease is one that never attacks those who live on coarse food, live abstemiously, and drink water chiefly. It is rather a disease of “high livers.” But a man does not need a large income to ensure this affection: any one who can get all he wants to eat and drink, and who eats and drinks all he “wants” (even without indulgence in wine, or alcohol in any form, which is a prolific cause of this disorder), may safely reckon on some of the symptoms, if not upon the worst form of the disease; and whether it be the understood cause of his death or not, it will surely be a contributing cause. The possession of typically healthy kidneys is a rare circumstance in this climate. The excessive micturition so universal in infancy, occasioned by excess in diet, is the beginning of renal disease.

Dr. Bright immortalized his name by discovering the fact that, when a man’s last sickness is attended with a certain class of symptoms, as albumen in the urine, final suppression of the urine, and uremic poisoning, they are occasioned by a peculiar disease or degeneration of the kidney. From a practical stand-point we care nothing about the kind of change taking place in the kidney, but rather ask what kind of change in our habits will keep this, and all the organs of the body, in a healthy condition? The former study is all well enough for those who desire it, but iftoo much timeis devoted to it, and to therelation of drugs thereto, by an individual, he may be, probablywill be, the very least fitted to advise an inquirer who desires to know what he can do to be saved from disease and the supposed necessity of taking medicine. Says Dr. Dickinson (ibid., chap. VI.): “There are few disorders which are more under the influence of medicine than is the catarrhal inflammation of the kidneys.” And the very next sentence is one worth pondering on by those who are accustomed to take medicine whenever they come to grief through ignorance or neglect of the laws of life: “Under some plans of treatment,” says this celebrated authority, in continuing, “plans which formerly were almost universally adopted, andstill have their advocates, the disorder is one of heavy mortality. Under other circumstances the danger is so small, that if once the complaint be recognized, a recovery may be reckoned upon in a largeproportionof cases. Without treatment of any kind there is reason to suppose that a largemajorityof the subjects of it would recover.” (The italics are my own.) From this it will be observed that it depends on one’s luck whether he shall fall into the hands of a practitioner who belongs to a class still adhering to the plan ensuring a “heavy mortality,” or of one whose modified form of treatment is less fatal; and upon his good sense, whether he shall come under the influence of either, or adopt the methods indicated herein, viz., the abandonment of disease-producing, and the adoption ofease-producing, habits, which would be an immense gain over the “no treatment” plan which, according to a rational interpretation of Dr. Dickinson’s language,is the safest of the three referred to by him. From the three-hundred-page treatise before me, which is fresh from the mint (1881), and is a most valuable book for those who wish to study the pathology of the disease (Bright’s), but which is little calculated to aid any one healthward, except he be already pretty well informed in hygienic matters, I cull, in addition to the paragraphs already quoted, the following little nugget of pure gold: “We must avoid the use of any drugs which, under the name of stimulating diuretics, might exasperate the existing congestion; and we must enforce such diet as to reduce to a minimum that nitrogenous excess which finds its way out chiefly by the kidneys, and provides in many shapes effective means of irritation. Physiological repose is to be sought, not by debarring the gland of the harmless and necessary solvent, but by cutting off the materials of urea and uric acid.” How naturally, then, do we look for the continuing sentiments: “‘Spare diet and spring water clear’ may often be found sufficient though simple remedies.Of all diuretics water is the best.”[45]But how can we reconcile, with such counsel, the treatment that he himself commonly adopts?

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