PART IV.

How to Use It.

Having cleansed the reservoir, the faucet should be shut off and a level teaspoonful of the antiseptic tonic dissolved in a little warm water in a cup or glass and poured into the reservoir, which should then be completely filled with water as hot as the hand can comfortably bear; not to simply dip the fingers in and withdraw them, but so that you can immerse the hand and allow it to remain without discomfort. If tested with a thermometer the water should be from 100 to 105 degrees Fahr., but the hand is a safer guide, as it prevents any possible danger from a thermometer out of order, or mistaking a figure in a poor light. If tested by the hand you are absolutely safe, since water can be used twenty degrees hotter internally than externally, but in its passage from the body it would be painful to the external parts. Hot water is the best solvent for impacted fæcal matter, and, on the other hand, water below the temperature of the body is likely to cause pain. If the hands are impervious to heat, an excellent plan is to test the water with the tip of the elbow, which is a most sensitive part of the body.

It is necessary that the reservoir should be absolutely full to insure the exclusion of air, as that is also likely to cause pain, and, in addition, its presence is likely to prevent the proper reception of the water, as, according to an established law in physics, two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time. For this reason it is advisable to solicit the bowels before taking the treatment, as, if even no fæcal matter is expelled, pent-up gases are frequently liberated.

The reservoir having been filled as directed and the above directions carefully observed, the “Cascade” should be laid down and the “injection point” screwed in. It is then ready for use. Being all ready, the stick of rectal soap should be dipped in water—to moisten it—inserted in the rectum and withdrawn. This is simply to lubricate the passage and facilitate the admission of the “injection point.” Then, standing in front of the seat on which the “Cascade” is lying (as if preparing to sit down), pass the left hand between the lower limbs and grasp the handle of the faucet, to guide the “injection point” into the rectum, and then carefully sit down upon the “Cascade.” When the “injection point” has been completely introduced and you are comfortably seated, relax the muscles and allow the whole weight of the body to rest freely on the “Cascade,” and turn on the faucet, partially at first, then, after a few seconds, turn it on fully and you will readily receive the water.

The most convenient place to use the “Cascade” is in the bathroom, placing it on the closet seat; or you will find the ordinary bedroom “commode” a suitable article for the purpose, but if neither of these are available, then any firm seat, such as a wooden-seated chair, will do, but taking care to have a vessel at hand in which to discharge the contents of the bowel.

As soon as the faucet is turned on and the water begins to flow into the body, proceed to practise the following movements: Commencing in the right groin, stroke firmly but gently, right across the pelvis, or lower edge of the abdomen, to the left groin, then directly upward with the hands to a point just above the umbilicus, or navel, then straight across the body and down to the right groin. These movements are directly over and along the course of the colon, and if they are made gently but firmly, the water will be assisted on its course. A study of the diagram of the digestive apparatus at the commencement of the book will be of great assistance in enabling you to understand the reason for and the method of these movements.

It sometimes happens that after a small quantity of water has been injected there is a strong desire to expel it, which is sometimes due to nervousness, induced by the novelty of the operation. If this be so, shut off the faucet at once and resist the inclination, when, in a few minutes, the desire will have passed away, then turn on the faucet again. Be sure to allow the full weight of the body to rest on the “Cascade,” and have no fear. It is the weight of the body itself that furnishes the motive power and to ease up the pressure defeats the object.

As soon as all the water has entered that you feel it possible to receive, turn off the faucet, rise from the “Cascade,” sit over the closet, or vessel, and allow the contents of the bowel to escape. At the same time repeat the stroking movement previously described, but this time reverse it, commencing in the right groin, up, across and down to the left groin. These movements have a three-fold object: they assist the water in its passage backward and forward, thus shortening the time of the treatment; they force along the accumulated matter in the colon with the current of water, and help to dislodge adherent matter from the walls of the colon.

As we proceed on the assumption that the colon is more or less impacted (which experience shows), we do not anticipate that more than two quarts will be received at the first treatment, but as the accumulations are removed by successive treatments, the capacity of the colon is increased, so that at the end of the second week enough should be received to completely fill the colon. The amount of water varies, of course, with the bulk of the individual, but the capacity of the colon, in the average well-grown adult, is about four quarts, but even in the case of a person below the average size, it may safely be assumed that three quarts of water are absolutely necessary for a successful treatment.

The presence of from three to four quarts of water in the body will naturally distend the abdomen and produce a little discomfort, but no apprehension of any harmful result need be entertained. Rest assured of this: it is absolutely impossible to rupture the colon, unless you were to use a force pump, and even then, before the point of rupture could be reached, the pain would be so intense that you would be compelled to desist. Again, as we have pointed out, the colon is a wonderfully elastic organ, and it would be an impossibility to distend it with water to the same extent that it is frequently distended by fæcal accumulations.

Whenever pain is present during the treatment it is usually due to one of two things: either the water has not been sufficiently hot, or the reservoir has not been completely filled, but, if in spite of these precautions, pain should be present, it will be found advisable, after a small quantity of water has been injected (say from a pint to a quart) to shut off the faucet, rise from the “Cascade” and expel it; then, upon returning to the “Cascade,” it will usually be found that the cleansing of the lower portions of the bowel has removed the trouble. The same method of procedure holds good when there is any difficulty in injecting the water. In cases where pain is persistent, even although all precautions are taken (although such are extremely rare), a decoction of anise seed, made by steeping a tablespoonful of the seed in a pint of boiling water, added to the water used for flushing (omitting the antiseptic tonic), will act as an anodyne on the intestine, and completely subdue the pain.

The frequency with which the treatment is used will depend upon the nature of the trouble and the length of time it has existed. In the great majority of cases it is recommended to be used as follows when commencing the treatment: The first week use it every night; the second week every alternate night; after that use it twice a week, or as occasion seems to demand it. For the simple preservation of health, twice a week will be found amply sufficient. After using the “Cascade” it will be found extremely beneficial to inject from a half pint to a pint of cool water and retain it. This will be found not only a valuable rectal tonic, but an excellent diuretic as well, as it will pass off by way of the kidneys, cleansing and purifying those organs.

The “Cascade” should not be used within three hours after eating a full meal, as, if both the stomach and transverse colon are distended at the same time they press upon each other, and the stomach, being the more sensitive of the two, nausea is likely to be produced; but although (with the above proviso) the treatment can be used with benefit at any period during the twenty-four hours, yet, just before retiring at night is by far the best time to take it, for several reasons. Firstly, it is usually the most convenient time for the majority of people. Secondly, it invariably induces a good night’s rest; for no sleeping potion can equal its effects in that direction. Thirdly, night is Nature’s repairing season, when she is busy making good the ravages of the day—replacing the waste by building fresh tissue and by putting the system into a cleanly condition and purifying the blood current; at that season you are co-operating with Nature and may confidently expect, and will undoubtedly secure, the best results.

After using the “Cascade” it is quite possible that there may not be a movement of the bowels until late the following day. This must not be considered as evidence of constipation, but simply a lack of matter to discharge. In a perfectly natural condition of existence there should be at least two movements of the bowels during the day, but it must be remembered that the human system has acquired bad habits, and it will require some time before perfect conditions are re-established. If, however, from a half pint to a pint of hot water is sipped in the morning, certainly not less than half an hour before breakfast, it will stimulate the bowels to action, even though the “Cascade” had been used the night before, while its cleansing effect upon the stomach will assist the digestive functions in a marked degree.

*   *  *  *  *  

It may be accepted as a truism that success invariably excites envy, therefore, it is but reasonable that the astounding results that have attended this method of treatment should have aroused a certain amount of antagonism. The hardy individual who dares to propose a new departure in the method of treating disease must be prepared to hear his theories ridiculed, his system denounced, and, possibly, his motives impugned. Consequently, it is not surprising that the “Cascade Treatment” has some objections urged against it.

The first objection I am confronted with is, “it is not natural.” I willingly concede that point, and will add that neither is an obstructed and engorged colon natural.

We are living (in a large measure) an artificial life. In his barbaric state man obeyed the calls of nature without regard to time or place, and it is safe to assert that under those conditions an obstructed colon was an unknown quantity. But in deference to the demands of civilized life we disregard Nature’s calls and defer the response until a convenient opportunity presents itself, and for this violation of natural law, a penalty is inflicted.

An obstructed colon, therefore, being itself unnatural, man is obviously justified in using the brains that Nature has endowed him with to cleanse it. An artificial limb is unnatural, but would the same objection hold good that because a man has had the misfortune to suffer amputation, he must, therefore, limp through life on crutches, rather than use the mechanical substitute that man’s ingenuity has devised?

Common sense teaches us, and experience has amply confirmed the teaching, that flushing is not only the easiest, but the most effectual means of accomplishing this purpose; and it is unmistakably the most harmless, inasmuch as we use Nature’s most simple and effective cleansing agency in the process—pure water. Sickness is in itself unnatural, and until the system can be restored to its natural condition reason plainly shows us that we must co-operate with Nature and assist in removing these impurities from the system, a task which our disregard of her warnings has prevented her from accomplishing. Cathartics simply excite the excretory processes, and stimulate Nature to a violent effort to expel them, the unnatural exertion being followed by a feeling of languor, for all purgative action is debilitating. Flushing, on the contrary, acts directly on the accumulated matter in the colon (which cathartics never do), and, instead of causing an unnatural excitation of any of the natural processes, it induces a calm, restful feeling and a sense of profound relief.

“It is a debilitating practice,” the objectors urge. Here, again, I join issue. I am in a position to prove a decided negative.

I have the evidence of thousands of people to the contrary—people who have tested the treatment, and, setting aside the weight of testimony, even the most prejudiced mind must admit, that actual, personal experience is more to be relied on than unsupported theory.

Dr. Forrest said that his patients who had used the treatment for months, and even years, had steadily gained in strength and flesh all the time.

Another favorite objection is that “it causes the intestines to become weakened and dependent upon this unnatural method.” To this I reply that it is a well-known fact that at least fifty per cent. of people in civilized (?) communities are slaves to the purgative habit, the system refusing to fulfil its functions without this unnatural excitation; therefore, if dependence must be placed in something, we should unhesitatingly give the preference to water, as against cathartics, but the whole weight of evidence shows that the objection has no foundation in fact.

On this subject Dr. Forrest said: “Flushing the colon does not cause a weakening of the intestines. When this procedure is no longer necessary, owing to restored health, the intestines have also been restored and improved in tone and will carry on their functions unaided.”

Dr. Stevens, who has used the treatment upon himself and patients for over twenty years, says that it in no wise interferes in his case with the normal movement of the bowels. To test it in this respect he has frequently discontinued its use for a week, with the result of a regular movement, as soon as enough fæcal matter had accumulated to demand it.

He recommends flushing every two or three days as a preventive of disease. For over twenty years he has practiced flushing upon himself as a precaution, and, although now between seventy and eighty years old, since beginning its use he has never known a day of sickness.

It is contended by some people, including a percentage of physicians (who should know better), that the frequent use of this treatment will so stretch the colon that it will remain permanently distended. This argument is so totally opposed to physiological law, to say nothing of experience and common sense, that it is almost laughable. The veriest tyro in the matter of exercise knows that exercise develops a muscle; that repeated flexion and extension of the arm, for instance, will strengthen the muscles of that limb, not cause them to lose their contractibility. All muscle fibres are alike in structure, except that some are voluntary, others involuntary, but that difference is simply due to the difference in the source of nerve supply. There is no reason that can be shown why the muscles of the colon should lose their elasticity through exercise in contra-distinction to all the other muscles of the body, since they are not subjected to any extraordinary strain, the extreme tension only lasting for a few seconds, while as soon as the water commences to escape, relaxation follows, and, in addition, heat acts as a stimulant. The objection does not even merit serious consideration.

“It operates against peristalsis,” we are told. I deny it, for the energy evinced by the intestine in expelling the water is proof of increased peristaltic vigor, if it is proof of anything. And even if it did suspend peristalsis for a few minutes, is it not a fact that other natural functions can be suspended for a much longer period, only to be resumed with unabated vigor?

Equally absurd, and destitute of foundation, in fact, is the objection frequently advanced that the washing of the interior surface of the colon is injurious; as it washes away the fluid that Nature secretes for the purpose of lubrication.

Where, in the name of common sense, do they get their authority for such a statement? Do they not know that such a contention is in direct opposition to physiological law? Does bathing the external surface of the body prevent the further excretion of perspiration; or bathing the eyes destroy the functions of the Meibomian glands? Does the drinking of water prevent any further discharge of saliva into the mouth, or of gastric juice into the stomach? If the washing away of a secretion destroyed the power of the secreting gland, human existence would be brief indeed.

The truth is, that not one in ten thousand has any practical knowledge of the subject. They may possess a smattering, and in the endeavor to make it show to advantage, they draw upon their imagination to supply the deficiency. On the other hand, I have been making this subject a constant study for the past twenty years, having had experience in thousands of cases, and, therefore, contend that my opinion is of more value than that of the average man—whether physician or layman—and is at least entitled to respectful consideration.

Whether the practice of the treatment is to be persisted in will, of course, depend upon the nature and habits of the patient. If the pernicious habits that caused the trouble are not abandoned, a constant resort to the treatment will be necessary. If the patient is naturally of a costive habit, and has thoroughly weakened his intestines by a reckless and indiscriminate use of cathartics, it will require a long persistence in reformed habits before the weakened bowels will have gained sufficient strength to fulfil their functions normally.

It is advisable for elderly people to use it more or less continuously throughout life, for with advancing years the bowels naturally become less active, and this simple process offers a valuable means of assistance to flagging nature at the cost of little, if any, exertion; in fact, after a little experience no more will be thought of using the “Cascade” than of taking a meal.

I would strictly impress on the minds of those who propose to give this treatment a trial that, like every other undertaking in life, thoroughness and persistence are absolutely indispensable to success. No great end was ever yet achieved except by hard work, conscientiousness and perseverance, and these three factors are in the highest degree necessary to restore health to a system from which it has long been estranged.

If a chronic, deep-seated disease can be cured in a year, by a home process, so simple that a child can understand and practise it, the individual so benefited should consider himself or herself most fortunate; and few will deny that the end in view—restoration to health—is a full and ample recompense for the thorough and persistent effort necessary to attain it. If it were a question of large pecuniary profit to the patient, it is scarcely necessary to say that every nerve would be strained to its utmost tension to bring the coveted prize within his grasp; yet here the reward is of infinitely greater value, a prize compared with which riches are as dross in comparison with gold. It is Health, without which the acquisition of Wealth, is well-nigh impossible, and its possession as profitless to the possessor as Dead Sea fruit.

I write thus strongly on this point because there is a large class of people who dabble in every new system of treatment projected, and toy with every medicinal device that is placed upon the market. They are the class from whom the patent medicine vendor draws his enormous annual profits. Like a bee in a garden of roses, they flit from one remedy to another, but, unlike that energetic and acquisitive insect, they do not gather the golden reward they are in search of—health. It is the purveyor of the nostrum that secures whatever there is of gold.

They seem to be utterly incapable of continuity of effort, and, unless they can discern a marked improvement within a week after commencing a fresh method of treatment, get discouraged and abandon it. To this class of people I say, in the most emphatic manner, that if they propose to give this great remedial process a trial and expect to derive benefit from it, that the cure rests entirely in their own hands.

They must persevere. They must be thorough. They must not expect miraculous results in a few days. Their diseased condition is the growth of months, perhaps years, and it is the height of unreasoning folly to expect to be cured in a few weeks. A merchant whose business has been crippled and who starts in to rebuild it, will consider himself an extremely fortunate man if, by watchful and untiring endeavor, he can restore it to a sound and healthy condition in a few years. Growth is necessarily slow—and this is especially the case with the human system. Nature will not be hurried. But of one thing they may rest assured, and that is that if they conscientiously and persistently practise this simple hygienic treatment they will find Nature a responsive and willing coadjutor.

“Heaven fights on the side of the strongest battalions,” is a military aphorism, and Nature ranges herself on the side of the individual who co-operates with her most faithfully, who, in the struggle for the regaining of health, brings the greatest amount of determination and perseverence to the encounter.

What these irresolute dabblers in “medical fads” need most of all is to be inoculated with good, sound common sense, but until some method is discovered for the accomplishment of that psychological feat, they will continue to run hither and thither after every new remedy, dallying with all, and deriving benefit from none.

Perseverance in the treatment will achieve results that seem little short of miraculous to those accustomed to the “hit or miss” methods that have so long been in use. And, best of all, the benefit attained will be permanent, for the system being thoroughly cleansed, and kept so, nothing but fresh, firm, healthy tissue is formed, so that after a year’s conscientious treatment the person practising it will be practically a new being.

In dealing with the subject of constipation, which is the most prevalent of all disorders of the body, and is, in fact, the fundamental cause of ninety per cent. of human ills: the importance of drinking freely of water, from one to two hours after eating a meal, cannot be over-estimated, and most essential of all is the glass of water, half an hour before breakfast. If the digestion is faulty, the morning glass should be hot and sipped slowly.

Dr. James C. Minor, in his clever book, “The Plan o’ the House o’ Man, Sir,” makes an excellent suggestion which I heartily endorse, as follows: “Never rise from rest without turning on the left side for a few minutes (although an hour is better), to empty the contents of the ascending colon to the transverse colon and thence to the descending colon, which is on the left side of the body. Never lie on the left side of the body while food, water or medicine is in the stomach.” If attention be paid to these simple suggestions, much trouble may be averted.

PART V.

Practical Hygiene.

It must not be imagined that because the treatment previously described is such a wonderful curative and preventive of disease that nothing more is necessary—that all other hygienic measures can be ignored. These bodies of ours were given us for a nobler purpose than to be the sport of our caprice or neglect. It is our duty to treat them as a divine trust.

There is no reason why any human being should die before eighty at least. With proper care the century mark should be reached in the majority of cases. This may sound like an extravagant assertion, but it is absolutely true. It all depends upon taking care of the human machine. Ask an engineer how long a locomotive would last if drawn at express speed every day, or if left standing idly on a siding! He will tell you that overwork or disuse are fatal to mechanism, so far as its capacity for lasting is concerned. Well, the most finished product of man’s handiwork in machinery cannot begin to compare with that wonderful, complex piece of mechanism—the human body; and if care will prolong the life of the lifeless machine, the veriest dullard cannot fail to perceive that the same rule applies with ten-fold force to the human organism, which possesses within itself the power of recuperation—a living machine, every atom of which is being daily replaced as fast as the friction of life disintegrates it. If the locomotive were capable of being reproduced in like manner—of having the daily waste of substance replaced during rest by proper attention to its needs—do you think its owners would ever allow it to wear or rust out? Would they not bend every energy to prolong its existence indefinitely? Most assuredly they would. And is the body, the earthly habitation of the real man, of less importance to himself than the creations of his own hands? Common sense says, “No!” But daily experience shows us that the bulk of humanity are far less careful of the earthly husk that shelters the divine ego than of the machinery that ministers to their wants. We repeat, there is no reason why man should not live to be a hundred, or even more, if only proper care be exercised. The hurry of modern life is fatal to the expectation of longevity, so also is over-indulgence in the pleasures of the table, which is one of the besetting sins of the present generation. If from childhood the care of the human body was made the subject of constant instruction, the second generation from now would see such a marked change in the personnel of the race as would astound even the most sanguine. What if a few less dollars were piled on each other? Which is the more to be desired, a perfect, healthful physique, or a full purse?

To preserve the body in health is an easy matter, if the individual will only bring the same thoughtful intelligence to bear on the subject that he does on the ordinary affairs of life. The natural agencies for the preservation of health are, as previously stated, Pure Water, Sunlight, Fresh Air, Diet and Exercise. The first three are furnished “without money and without price” by the all-wise mother, while the two last simply require a slight exertion of will power, tempered with intelligence.

Of the quintette of agencies mentioned above, water is one of the most important. Water is the original source of all animal life. From it the earliest species were evolved, and by the natural law of correlation, it continues to be one of the most important factors in sustaining existence. Water enters more largely into the composition of all organic substance than the majority of people dream of, and this is notably true of the human body. Few people realize that seventy per cent. of their earthly tenement consists of the fluid in which they perform their ablutions, yet such is the fact.

This important physiological truth should be carefully laid to heart, for it accentuates the vital necessity of imbibing a sufficient quantity of fluid daily to preserve the proportion in the system requisite for health. Water is the only known substance that possesses the power of permeating every cell and fibre of the living organism, without creating disturbance or irritation. Water is, in fact, an indispensable necessity for physical existence—its excess or deficit creating abnormal conditions; but the latter is the more common condition. Being universally present in all the tissues of the body, water is the principal agent in the elimination of waste material from the body, according to Nature’s plan—hence, for the preservation of health, every adult should drink from two to three quarts of water per day, certainly not less than two quarts. One of the remedial factors in the copious use of water in “flushing the colon” is that a liberal percentage of it is absorbed through the walls of the colon, directly into the circulation, thus increasing the amount in the tissues, and causing more fluid to pass through the kidneys—cleansing them.

Hot water is, in reality, a “natural scavenger,” but its virtues are only imperfectly known. As a therapeutic agent it is almost without a peer, and yet it is so little used that it is practically a dead letter. Chemists are burning the midnight oil in their laboratories searching for new weapons with which to fight sepsis, while hot, boiled water, which is one of the best antiseptics in existence, is almost ignored. It may be asked why (if it is such an invaluable remedial agent) it is not more extensively used and advocated? In the first place, its merits are not generally known. In the second place, physicians who know of its value hesitate to prescribe it, for the reason that the majority of patients expect the doctor to prescribe drugs, and are disappointed if he does not. There is a tendency on the part of the majority of people to slight that which is near at hand and easily obtained, in favor of those things which are designated by mysterious titles, or are difficult of attainment. Man has been so long accustomed to regard with a species of awe the hieroglyphics on orthodox prescriptions, that he finds it difficult to dissociate from it the idea of talismanic power.

But to return to its uses. Hot water used as a stomach bath (see description in the appendix at end of book) is a valuable auxiliary in the preservation and restoration of health.

By its means the stomach is cleansed of mucous accumulations and particles of undigested food, thus enabling it to perform its functions satisfactorily. If, as is often the case (more especially with dyspeptics) undigested food remains in the stomach, it ferments, causing what is known as sour stomach, and is productive of many evils. If we keep the ferment out of the stomach by occasionally washing it, and prevent the generation of foul gases in the colon, by regularly flushing it, the bile will effectually prevent any fermentation in the intestines; and with the body in this cleanly condition, sickness is well-nigh impossible. But there are external applications of water, which are equally important for the preservation of health, and first and foremost is the bath.

It is a matter of authentic history that the most highly enlightened and prosperous people of the world have been celebrated for their devotion to the bath as a means of securing health and vigor—as a means of curing disease, and preventing it, by promoting the activity of the skin. The excavations at Pompeii show the devotion of the people to luxurious bathing. The Romans are famous to this day for the magnificence of their lavatories and the universal use of them by the rich and poor alike. In Russia the bath is general, from the Czar to the poorest serf, and through all Finland, Lapland, Sweden and Norway, no hut is so destitute as not to have its family bath. Equally general is the custom in Turkey, Egypt and Persia, among all classes from the Pasha down to the poorest camel driver. Pity it is that we cannot say as much for the people of our own country.

Most people are familiar with the aphorism, “cleanliness is next to godliness,” a statement that by implication relegates cleanliness to the second place, but we would transpose this stated sequence of conditions, and assign the premier position to cleanliness; for we contend that purity of soul presupposes purity of body. It is true that we sometimes find a “jewel in an Ethiop’s ear,” but it is the exception that proves the rule.

But it is not from the moral standpoint that we wish to consider the subject of physical cleanliness, but from the hygienic. How few people there are who are really physically clean! The outward semblance of cleanliness too frequently poses as the real article. Even people who pride themselves on their cleanliness are frequently guilty of the unclean practice of sleeping in the underwear they have worn during the day, and would feel aggrieved if their unclean habit was called by its right name. Yet, what can be more repulsive to the truly cleanly individual than the retention, next the body, of garments saturated with the constant exhalations from the system? Those who think this a trifling matter, should turn their underwear wrong side outward (after removing it) when retiring for the night, and in the morning shake it thoroughly, when they will receive an object lesson in the form of a cloud of dried effete matter, consisting largely of particles of the epidermis, removed by abrasion, through the friction of the clothing. This, being visible, appeals to the sense of sight; but gives no evidence of the gaseous and liquid refuse matter which was deposited in the material, and has been allowed to evaporate by the removal of the clothing. Thus we may see how many so-called cleanly people fall hopelessly short of true cleanliness.

If the individual keeps the surface of the body clean, by frequent ablutions, the evil is lessened; but how many people bathe the body daily? As Hamlet says: “It is a custom more honored in the breach than the observance.” Among the white races of the earth, the English are the greatest devotees of the daily tub, to which custom their ruddy complexions are largely due; but Japan is pre-eminently in the lead in the matter of daily bathing, for it is doubtful if there could be found in the land of the “little brown people” a single individual who does not bathe the whole body daily, unless physically incapacitated.

The skin is such an important excretory organ that the importance of keeping its innumerable infinitesimal outlets free from obstruction cannot be overestimated. As the structure of the skin may not be understood by the average reader, we will briefly describe this wonderful depurating organ, that the paramount importance of its functions may be properly appreciated.

The skin consists of two layers, the derma, or true skin, and the epidermis, or cuticle. It is the principal seat of the sense of touch, and on the surface of the upper layer are the sensitive papillæ, which receive and respond to impressions; and within, or imbedded beneath it, are organs with special functions, viz., the sweat glands, hair follicles and sebaceous glands. Its value as a means of depuration is incalculable, as by it, vast quantities of the aqueous and gaseous refuse matter is conveyed from the body. By the aid of a four diameter magnifying glass applied to the skin of the palm of the hand, the curiously inclined will observe that it is divided into fine ridges, which are punctured regularly with minute holes. These are the mouths of the sweat glands, and generally known as the pores of the skin. Their function is to bring moisture to the surface of the skin; which is secreted from the blood, and chemical analysis reveals the fact that this moisture is always more or less loaded with worn-out and effete matter. It is estimated that there are 3,800 of these glands in each square inch of skin, and that their total length, in an ordinary person, if placed end to end, would be ten miles. Then there are the sebaceous, or oil glands, which oil the skin and keep it flexible. Now, as the processes of destruction and upbuilding are perpetually going on in the body, and the skin being one of the principal avenues by which the refuse is removed, the vital necessity of keeping this organ perfectly clean becomes apparent at once; for this refuse matter, if retained in the system, acts as a poison, and furnishes food for disease germs to feed upon.

It has been demonstrated by experiment upon dogs from which the hair had been shorn, that a coat of varnish applied to the body (thus effectually closing the pores), will cause death in a very short while. No better object lesson could be given of the imperative necessity of keeping the skin perfectly clean, if you wish to enjoy good health.

It is an easy matter to keep all these miles of tubing in a perfectly natural and active condition, by a strict observance of the fundamental principle—cleanliness. Bathe the body daily, complete immersion, if practicable; if this is not possible, then sponge the body thoroughly, all over; but if both methods are rendered out of the question by circumstances, then adopt the best substitute, namely, vigorous friction with a coarse towel.

We know it will be urged that the majority of people have not the time or convenience for this daily process; but when sickness overtakes them, they have to find time to submit to medical treatment, and in this, as in other matters of everyday life, the cleanly individual who is thoroughly in earnest, will “find a way, or make it.”

As to the temperature of the bath, that must, to a great extent, depend upon the conditions of life, and the pre-disposition and susceptibility of the individual; but the cold bath should always be employed in preference to the warm bath, when conditions permit. The cold bath is a powerful stimulant to the sympathetic nervous system, and as that is the great regulator of nutrition, the value of cold bathing to those afflicted with digestive disturbances will be readily understood, since all the digestive and assimilative processes are quickened by it. The glands of the stomach secrete more hydrochloric acid on account of this stimulus, and a better quality of gastric juice being thus formed, not only is the digestion improved, but the system is better enabled to resist microbic invasion. The cold bath also stimulates the vaso-motor system, which regulates the circulation, by contracting and dilating the vessels, and increases the activity of the capillaries, or small blood vessels. It thus increases the resisting power of the skin, by enabling it to reheat the surface after a chill, and this is the reason why people who habitually use the cold bath are practically proof against “colds.”

People employed in sedentary occupations are especially benefited by the cold bath, but should employ a hot bath for three or four minutes beforehand. It is also especially beneficial to women, as, being an excellent nerve tonic, it successfully combats all forms of nervous weakness, and is an admirable preventive of hysteria.

Children under seven years of age do not bear the application of cold water very well, and it is advisable not to use the water at a lower temperature than 70° Fahr., and to employ friction constantly while administering it; but after that age the temperature may be gradually lowered. In old age the neutral bath, from 75 to 85° Fahr. will be found the best for general use, accompanied by friction.

The bath, to be thoroughly beneficial, should be taken at one of the three following portions of the day, immediately upon rising, about ten o’clock, or just before going to bed. The early morning bath is, however, immeasurably the best, and if cold, will be found a wonderful aid in promoting health and vigor, and being such a necessity, especially in the preservation of health, and the constant practice of it, strongly urged, we append the following useful suggestions for guidance:

A full meal should not be taken in less than half an hour after bathing. Nor should a bath be taken in less than an hour and a half after eating a full meal.

You can bathe with impunity in cold water when the body is perspiring freely, as long as the breathing is not disturbed, nor the body exhausted by over-exertion.

Never bathe in cool or cold water when the body is cold. First restore warmth by exercise.

Always wet the head before taking a plunge bath, and the chest also, if the lungs are weak.

In cases of sickness, where it becomes necessary to assist Nature in ridding the system of impurities through the medium of the sweat glands, the “wet sheet pack” will be found invaluable. It is usually regarded by those imperfectly acquainted with its action as simply the chief factor in a sweating process, but it is more than that. Not only does it open up the pores and soften the scales of the skin, but it “draws” the morbid matter from the interior of the body, through the surface to the pores. It is of immense value in all cases of fever, especially bilious fever.

It should be borne in mind that “flushing the colon” should always precede the use of the “pack.”

If any one doubts the purifying efficacy of this process he can have a “demonstration strong” by the following experiment: Take any man in apparently fair health, who is not accustomed to daily bathing, who lives at a first-class hotel, takes a bottle of wine at dinner, a glass of brandy and water occasionally, and smokes from three to six cigars per day. Put him in a pack and let him soak one or two hours. On taking him out the intolerable stench will convince all persons present that his blood and secretions were exceedingly befouled and that a process of depuration is going on rapidly.

Full directions for the use of the pack will be found at the end of this work.

It will be necessary to take into consideration the vitality of the patient and regulate the temperature of the sheet accordingly. The best time to use it is about ten in the morning, or nine in the evening.

The Turkish bath (see last page) is another important factor in treating disease, also the hot foot bath, for all disturbances of the circulation, cramps, spasms and affections of the head and throat. Hot fomentations, which draw the blood to the seat of pain, thereby raising the local temperature and affording relief, and wet bandages for warming and cooling purposes will likewise be found valuable aids.

Humanity at large has never estimated water at its true value, yet all the gifts in Pandora’s fabled box could never equal that one inestimable boon of the Creator to the human race. Apart from its practical value, there is nothing in all the wide domain of Nature more beautiful, for in all its myriad forms and conditions it appeals equally to the artistic sense. In the restless ocean, now sleeping tranquilly in opaline beauty beneath the summer sun, now rising in foam-crested mountainous waves beneath the winter’s biting blast, its sublimity awes us. In the mighty river, rolling majestically on its tortuous course, impatient to unite itself with mother ocean, its resistless energy fascinates us. In the gigantic iceberg, with its translucent sides of shimmering green, its weird grandeur enthralls us. In the pearly dew drop, glittering on the trembling leaf, or the hoar frost, sparkling like a wreath of diamonds in the moon’s silvery rays: in the brawling mountain torrent, or the gentle brook—meandering peacefully through verdant meadows, in the mighty cataract or the feathery cascade, in the downy snowflake, or the iridescent icicle—in each and all of its many witching forms it is beautiful beyond compare. But its claims to our admiration rest not alone upon its ever varying beauty. When consumed with thirst, what beverage can equal a draught of pure, cold water? In sickness its value is simply incalculable—especially in fevers; in fact, the famous lines of Sir Walter Scott, in praise of woman, might be justly transposed in favor of water to read thus: