A YOUNG BRIDE - We give your own spelling of this word, which you repeat no less than *four times in your short note. From this we also should judge that two years more of schooling, at least, would be needed to complete your education, and to prevent the possibility of your future husband being ashamed of the ignorance of the girl whom he has made his wife. You say your age is seventeen, and if this be true, be advised by us and take the next two years for study, making an earnest effort to fit yourself for the life before you. If your lover be truly attached to you, he will wait; and if not, you must remember that marriage is by o means the chief aim or end of life, and that such early marriages do not tend to permanent happiness. 2. Brides' dresses are usually made of white satin at present, and the bridesmaids may be dressed alike in pairs. 3. Go at once to your mother, or whoever is your chaperone at the time. No well-bred young ladies do otherwise.
LEEK - 1. Feed your pug from the scraps of the table, and let him have milk and bread, and green vegetables. Not too much meat, nor too much food of any kind. 2. Silver ornaments are very fashionable. 3. Yes, your writing is very bad. We are bound to be candid.
A COASTGUARDSMAN'S BRIDE - To go to a wedding in deep mourning is not good taste; either stay at home or change your apparel for the day.
Tuesday, 12 July 2016
Sunday, 10 July 2016
25 September 1880 - 'Dress of the Month' by Dora de Blaquiere
The change to the autumn season is already felt, and many wise people have brought out their discarded mantles and jackets, and have gladly donned them again. The tightly-fitting, and half-fitting jackets with hoods, will, we believe, be as much used this winter as they were last; and no wonder, for they are decidedly the pleasantest, as well as the most becoming style of dress for young girls. The gaily-striped silks which were last season so much used for the lining of these hoods, are no longer worn in that position, but have taken up another, viz., as scarfs, and half-handkerchiefs for the neck, which are loosely knotted at the throat, the corners spreading over the back. The balayeuse, at the edge of the skirt is of the same stripe, or else of the brightest colour in it. This method of trimming forms a most happy relief to a half-worn cashmere gown.
The "toque," that most useful and easily manufactured of head-dresses, still remains in favour, and for a dress like that which I have just described the top might be made of the bright stripes, with a black velvet gathered border round the head.
The newest "toques" have a very decided brim, and those that were made in folds at the edge, like a cap without a brim, are now nowhere to be seen. The crowns are gathered in a double puff across the crown, at one-third distance from the back of the head; and the velvet edge may be either fluted or gathered, according to taste.
The "Lowlander," or "Tam o'Shanter," is probably the greatest favourite of all, and instead of being all velvet, as it was at first, is now made in straw of the finest kind, which is so supple that the crowns can be caught down at one side to the head-band just as if they were of velvet. These straws are made in bright blue, as well as corn-colour and black. The head-band used for them is of gathered velvet, a feather ruche or lace quilled up very closely. The crowns are flat, large, and round. Sometimes flowers are added at one side. Young girls from fourteen to sixteen wear coarse straw hats of brown, cream, or black, turned down at the brim with a lining of black velvet, or coloured; and large Alsatian bows, with fringed ends made from pale tartan ribbons, placed on the hat in various positions. Wide-brimmed Leghorn hats are also worn, being made into scoop-like bonnets by tying the brim down over the ears with satin strings.
So many of our girl readers seem to make caps for their mothers, and so many queries reach us on this subject, that we have (fig.1) procured a simple illustration of a pretty morning-cap, which can easily be copied. The materials consist of white muslin, Breton lace and blue ribbon, with three-quarters of a yard of ribbon wire for a foundation. The crown is lightly tacked on to the wire foundation, then the lace is to be sewn on, and finally the ribbon Of course, any other materials may be selected, but in doing so it should be remembered that the newest and prettiest caps at present are much plainer, and not nearly so gaily tinted as they were; ivory lace being in high favour, and a bunch of the simplest flowers - such as violets, heart-ease, or carnations - being the only little bit of brightness allowed.
The second illustration (fig.2) shows a pretty visite-dolman for the autumn, Many of our readers, very probably, have mantles which they wish to alter or resuscitate; and the present is an excellent example, and shows an easy method of trimming up an antiquated shape. The leaf-like trimming is made of pinked-out silk gathered into leaves, and the lace may be Spanish of a cheap quality.
Narrow lace in very full plaitings is very much used for the wrists of dresses, also plain deep lace, turned up on the cuffs flatly. Large collars are a new introduction, and are very becoming. They are called "Dauphines," and can be of thick Madeira work, foulard, or batiste and edged with a slightly gathered lace.
Another very charming collar for young girls is illustrated at fig.3. It is called the "Pierrot," and resembles the large collar worn by the French clowns - whence its name. It is made of fine jaconet or mull muslin, the frills being simply hemmed and then plaited flatly in small folds all one way. Although the sketch has a bow of ribbon, the collar really looks better and is more becoming when quite plain, and the frill round the neck cut straight round, and to rounded down in the fronts. It has cuffs to match if required, which are also illustrated. The other three cuffs are all intended to be worn outside the dress sleeves and are made of linen and lace, or muslin frills. They may be made also of coloured shirting if preferred, and trimmed with torchon lace, which is much to be recommended on account of its excellent washing qualities.
Shoes are quite as much, if not more, worn than boots; and both are most stylish when made with patent leather toes and kid tops, though the former are most painful to wear, as they draw the feet so much in warm weather. It is to be hoped that none of the readers of THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER wear the sharply-pointed boots and shoes now in fashion. Not only are they ugly to the extreme when the feet are looked at in a front-view, but according to the latest medical opinion their continued use produces a distressing affection of the eyes, headache, nausea and a general malaise. Some of our authorities go so far as to say that the continual irritation leads to mental affections, and that every asylum for minds diseased can instance cases due to the caprices of fashion in this direction.
The proper form of boot or shoe should be one that follows the outlines of the natural foot, and the toes especially should be allowed a space large enough to lie uncramped. The present ideas of beauty would force us to confine out beautifully-constructed feet in moulds by production of boxes that are models of anatomical deformity.
A very pretty and simple costume of navy-blue foulard, with a band of red in it, was made up this autumn for wearing at the seaside, and a description of it will enable my readers to judge of the style in which many of the new out-of-door costumes will be made. The skirt is kilted in large plaits, and the tunic is our old acquaintance the Laveuse, or washerwoman's, which has returned amongst us, and has been received with more than its former favour. It is as simple in form as at first, being turned up toward the waist and tied at the back with a large bow, without loops, the ends falling on the rest of the Laveuse drapery. The bodice is a long basque, laced behind, and a cape of blue, reaching to the elbows, is a comfortable finish to the whole costume. There is no trimming nor decoration of any kind; the edge of the Laveuse is finished with a double line of machine hemming, and the same finishes every part. There is a decided tendency to a return to the plain tunics, which can be draped in gracefully hanging folds. With them the underskirt is covered with little flounces, which are not very full.
Polonaises are quite the newest thing of the moment; they are all long and are draped below the hips in deep folds, generally fastening at the back with buttons and a band of ribbon, all loops and ends. Velvet petticoats are much worn, and are kilted in wide folds at the edge. The velvet is also used for the puffs on the shoulders, and at the elbows, and the knot of bows behind. Waist-belts for young girls are also much in favour, the bodices worn with them being yoked at the shoulders with a gathered piece below. The sleeves are sometimes puffed to the wrist, four small puffings being about the elbow, four small ones below, and one larger one at the elbow itself. Leg-of-mutton sleeves are very much used for lawn-tennis dresses, and also those sleeves with one long puff reaching from the shoulders to the elbow, the lower part being plain and tight, without any finish or cuff at the wrist. With these sleeves the bodice is generally gathered into a belt, and the skirt is short, with one deep flounce round the bottom. This costume is really that worn in the years 1822-4, by our mothers and grandmothers.
The two costumes chosen as illustrations of seasonable dresses are both suitable for girlish wearers. The firs tis made of gold-coloured spotted satin cloth, for the coat, scarf, and the trimmings of the black cashmere skirt. The small "toque" hat is intended to match the costume. The 2d dress is of bluish-grey stockingette cloth, the draperies, over-skirts, gathers in the front, and the bows all being of satin of a darker shade. The hat is of blue-grey straw, with poppies and satin bows. A piece of white lace is turned upwards from the brim. Both dresses are short, and of a useful walking style, and quite lady-like in appearance.
Thursday, 7 July 2016
25 September 1880 - 'Food for Invalids'
Miss S.F.A. Caulfield, one of our most valued contributors, has just published a handbook on "Home Nursing,"* which we recommend our readers to procure for themselves, n order that they may be able, upon any sudden emergency, to undertake with proficiency the important duty of nursing any member of their own household. This is a noble and most humanising occupation for a girl, and is a work which, above all others, is calculated to bring down upon the worker feelings of respect, admiration, and love.
Writing on food for invalids, Miss Caulfield says: - Food must be made to look as attractive as possible, and also cooked so as to please the taste of the invalid. The question of "well-done" and "under-done" meat is a vexed one; but it matters not which may be the prescription of the doctor for ordinary cases if, in any particular one, there be a natural loathing for either mode of dressing. What is eaten with appetite and relish is likely to nourish far more than what is crammed down as a loathsome duty at which the stomach revolts. And as such is the case with some people in reference to slightly cooked meat, on no account should any be presented to them that they will regard with abhorrence and heaving of the stomach. I have known an invalid turn from even a fairly-cooked slice of meat, and say he "was not hungry," but when I stuck a little scrap on a toasting fork, and held it in the fire till scorched, and, while almost too hot to eat, I put a scrap of fresh butter on it, and a sprinkle of pepper, he ate it at once, and asked for more, and thus got a light meal that he not only enjoyed, but that did him good. We do not make light of the rules prescribed by science - very far from it - but we cannot for their sake dare to set aside the laws of kindness and common sense, which have their own time for supremacy, if only the nurse have the judgment to decide on the when.
Much discretion must be observed in allowing the patient to have his own way. Never thwart his trifling fancies if at all permissible to indulge them. He will mind you the more when you must have submission. For instance, let him choose his own position, however awkward it may look; e must know which muscles are mot weary, and how to give them relief, and he wants variety. Lying on the back is often the most distressing of all positions, and should not be insisted upon. Remember how often an infant's crying is stopped by turning on its stomach; it brings relief to internal pain, and new rest to the tired frame; and where there is a cough, or difficulty in breathing, to turn over on the stomach and rest on the elbows, or lie down and lay the face just at the edge of the pillow, will usually put the patient to sleep.
Sick people do not like their soup, tea, or other drinks spilt into the saucer, nor to return to an old piece of jelly or pudding which they have not been able to finish. All that they have tasted should be at once removed, and fresh brought in when required, a rule which holds good as regards lemonade or such-like beverages, which should be poured fresh from the jug into a clean glass. But never leave even the untouched supply in the jug or dish in the sick chamber. Germs grow quickly in organic matter, and in all liquids. Milk and soup, and any description of food, may receive and spread infection. Vessels employed for milk, or any such drinks, the feeding cup included, must be scalded out with boiling water.
It may be desirable for the patient to take warm "slops" and milk puddings. Take care not to nauseate the poor creature with more than really must be taken, in change with other things. I have heard a patient say, "How sickly those tasteless sops are!" Why destroy the little inclination for food which he has by loading him with what he dislikes? The importance of cultivating any little returning fancy for food - while under the influence of confinement to one room, loss of exercise, of sleep, of permission to eat a variety of things, all combined with depression of spirits, bodily pain, and a stomach oppressed with drugs - cannot be too strongly insisted upon. Unless attractive, it will not stimulate the flow of that secretion of the mouth which is absolutely requisite to promote digestion.
In cases where there is a strong tendency to sickness, endangering the loss both of food and medicine, the nurse must have recourse to ice. A small scrap that can be swallowed entire, should be given immediately before the dose, and a similar piece immediately after it. In the same way, when giving cold chicken broth in strong jelly (which a sick person can retain better than any other kind of food), or in giving a spoonful of consommé, administered in dessert, or even teaspoons, at considerable intervals one from another, ice should be given both before and after it Should the nausea be obstinate, a mustard plaster on the pit of the stomach is likely to relieve it; and, in still more serious cases of disposition to vomit, as for instance, when at sea, and where haemorrhage is feared, the use of an indiarubber ice bag will reduce the symptoms when nothing else will. It is a sort of long belt with a brass clasp, divided into three or four pocket inside. The ice should be broken into very small pieces, and when secured by the clasp, the bag should be laid down the spine from the nape of the neck. The result will probably be demonstrated at once. The spinal cord being connected with the brain, the brain powerfully influenced by the stomach, and the latter by the brain, relief is almost immediate, and sleep will probably supervene. But it should be a golden rule never to attempt strong remedies unless simple ones have failed, and no medical man can be obtained to give advice.
While on the subject of food, there is one rule to which I attach much importance. In cases of extreme weakness let no word be uttered by the patient for a full hour after his dinner, nor at least for half an hour after breakfast and tea. It would be expedient for the nurse to retire into the ante-room for that time, leaving the door ajar, and telling him the reason of her so doing. There is more exhaustion produced by conversation than is generally imagined, and in cases of pulmonary disease, bronchitis, and sore throat, this is felt by the sick. But the fact that the brain and stomach, so closely connected as they are, should not be simultaneously set at work is quite sufficient argument, apart from all physical fatigue entailed.
* SICK NURSING AT HOME. By S.F.A. Caulfield. Published at 170, Strand.
Writing on food for invalids, Miss Caulfield says: - Food must be made to look as attractive as possible, and also cooked so as to please the taste of the invalid. The question of "well-done" and "under-done" meat is a vexed one; but it matters not which may be the prescription of the doctor for ordinary cases if, in any particular one, there be a natural loathing for either mode of dressing. What is eaten with appetite and relish is likely to nourish far more than what is crammed down as a loathsome duty at which the stomach revolts. And as such is the case with some people in reference to slightly cooked meat, on no account should any be presented to them that they will regard with abhorrence and heaving of the stomach. I have known an invalid turn from even a fairly-cooked slice of meat, and say he "was not hungry," but when I stuck a little scrap on a toasting fork, and held it in the fire till scorched, and, while almost too hot to eat, I put a scrap of fresh butter on it, and a sprinkle of pepper, he ate it at once, and asked for more, and thus got a light meal that he not only enjoyed, but that did him good. We do not make light of the rules prescribed by science - very far from it - but we cannot for their sake dare to set aside the laws of kindness and common sense, which have their own time for supremacy, if only the nurse have the judgment to decide on the when.
Much discretion must be observed in allowing the patient to have his own way. Never thwart his trifling fancies if at all permissible to indulge them. He will mind you the more when you must have submission. For instance, let him choose his own position, however awkward it may look; e must know which muscles are mot weary, and how to give them relief, and he wants variety. Lying on the back is often the most distressing of all positions, and should not be insisted upon. Remember how often an infant's crying is stopped by turning on its stomach; it brings relief to internal pain, and new rest to the tired frame; and where there is a cough, or difficulty in breathing, to turn over on the stomach and rest on the elbows, or lie down and lay the face just at the edge of the pillow, will usually put the patient to sleep.
Sick people do not like their soup, tea, or other drinks spilt into the saucer, nor to return to an old piece of jelly or pudding which they have not been able to finish. All that they have tasted should be at once removed, and fresh brought in when required, a rule which holds good as regards lemonade or such-like beverages, which should be poured fresh from the jug into a clean glass. But never leave even the untouched supply in the jug or dish in the sick chamber. Germs grow quickly in organic matter, and in all liquids. Milk and soup, and any description of food, may receive and spread infection. Vessels employed for milk, or any such drinks, the feeding cup included, must be scalded out with boiling water.
It may be desirable for the patient to take warm "slops" and milk puddings. Take care not to nauseate the poor creature with more than really must be taken, in change with other things. I have heard a patient say, "How sickly those tasteless sops are!" Why destroy the little inclination for food which he has by loading him with what he dislikes? The importance of cultivating any little returning fancy for food - while under the influence of confinement to one room, loss of exercise, of sleep, of permission to eat a variety of things, all combined with depression of spirits, bodily pain, and a stomach oppressed with drugs - cannot be too strongly insisted upon. Unless attractive, it will not stimulate the flow of that secretion of the mouth which is absolutely requisite to promote digestion.
In cases where there is a strong tendency to sickness, endangering the loss both of food and medicine, the nurse must have recourse to ice. A small scrap that can be swallowed entire, should be given immediately before the dose, and a similar piece immediately after it. In the same way, when giving cold chicken broth in strong jelly (which a sick person can retain better than any other kind of food), or in giving a spoonful of consommé, administered in dessert, or even teaspoons, at considerable intervals one from another, ice should be given both before and after it Should the nausea be obstinate, a mustard plaster on the pit of the stomach is likely to relieve it; and, in still more serious cases of disposition to vomit, as for instance, when at sea, and where haemorrhage is feared, the use of an indiarubber ice bag will reduce the symptoms when nothing else will. It is a sort of long belt with a brass clasp, divided into three or four pocket inside. The ice should be broken into very small pieces, and when secured by the clasp, the bag should be laid down the spine from the nape of the neck. The result will probably be demonstrated at once. The spinal cord being connected with the brain, the brain powerfully influenced by the stomach, and the latter by the brain, relief is almost immediate, and sleep will probably supervene. But it should be a golden rule never to attempt strong remedies unless simple ones have failed, and no medical man can be obtained to give advice.
While on the subject of food, there is one rule to which I attach much importance. In cases of extreme weakness let no word be uttered by the patient for a full hour after his dinner, nor at least for half an hour after breakfast and tea. It would be expedient for the nurse to retire into the ante-room for that time, leaving the door ajar, and telling him the reason of her so doing. There is more exhaustion produced by conversation than is generally imagined, and in cases of pulmonary disease, bronchitis, and sore throat, this is felt by the sick. But the fact that the brain and stomach, so closely connected as they are, should not be simultaneously set at work is quite sufficient argument, apart from all physical fatigue entailed.
* SICK NURSING AT HOME. By S.F.A. Caulfield. Published at 170, Strand.
Monday, 4 July 2016
18 September 1880 - 'On Being Stuck-Up' by James Mason
"I thought," says a character in an old story, "that humility lodged in the heart of every maiden - but I was mistaken." Yes, girls, he was very much mistaken, for the world is full of pride, and, though you are all very nice, one cannot help seeing that most of you are far from as humble and meek as you might be.
Turn over a new leaf, say I. When a girl is "stuck-up" she is in the most unbecoming state of mind possible, and the most uncomfortable, too. There is nothing like humility for beauty and happiness.
And what are you all proud about? Different things. Maggie is proud because she has a doll's house completely furnished from a piano to a blacking-brush; Kate because her father has five thousand pounds a year; Alice because her mother is second cousin to a baronet; Minnie because her golden hair reaches past her waist; Ellen because of that handsome dress she got last spring; Annie because she has a Grecian nose; and Blanche because her mind is made up to marry a prince - and so she will, no doubt when a prince drops down at her feet like a ripe gooseberry.
What trumpery reasons all of these are! A great conqueror, or a famous poet, or a wonderful musician, or a leading statesman, or a popular author - all these people might be excused if they carried their heads a little high. Your tendency, however, it must be confessed, is to be stuck-up about trifles, and so, for next to nothing, you put yourself in a fair way for growing up to be haughty and, it naturally follows, disagreeable women. But, my friends, you will take counsel in time, and we shall all adorn ourselves with that meek and quiet spirit which, more than pride and strength, wins and rules the world.
The worst of pride is that it stands in the way of improvement. It would not be correct to say that this is always the case, but certainly those who give themselves airs on account of what they are will not put forth great exertions to become something better. Stuck-up people are not the folks we see straining every nerve to become wiser or more estimable.
Pride almost invariably is fatal to the performance of any good work whatever, and for this reason; it is always thinking of itself. Now, the secret of doing successful work, and it is a secret easily carried about, is to think only of the work. The moment pride or anything else throws its shadow between us and our work, we are not likely to do it as it should be done. It is strange that on this account pride and many other objectionable passion have not long ago been hounded out of this busy world.
You will see, if you keep your eyes open, that proud people have very few friends. They sit alone, for they think none in the world good enough to associate with them. Who envies them their isolation? If they were happy it would be different, but they are pretty miserable. No one ever yet saw a proud face without observing in it lines of discontent and unhappiness that would be dearly bought even though we were in every other respect the favourites of fortune.
It is a common notion that pride is a proper sign of one's occupying a superior position in the world. This is quite a mistake. It is chiefly upstarts who give themselves air, and those who have been longest up have most humility. See that gentle lady whom you may watch for twenty years without noticing a trace of pride; she is descended in a direct line from Julius Caesar! Susan says she can supply a contrast. The most stuck-up woman she knows has "risen," as they say, "from nothing." When a little girl she used to run, without shoes or stockings, to the works in which her father made bricks, carrying him his dinner in a tin can. Now she has parted with both poverty and humility, and has as much pride in her head as she has little grammar on her tongue. Truly, as the world goes nowadays, the proudest people are those who ride in carriages and drop their "h's" all over the road.
Perhaps you think that to be humble is to be weak. Quite the reverse is the case: it is pride that is weak. Always going with its nose in the air, it forgets to look at its feet as all prudent people are in the habit of doing. No wonder pride comes before a fall, as Solomon says. A girl may well tumble in the gutter when she goes holding up her head as if she were keeping an eye on the man in the moon.
One great cause of pride, I am sure, is our taking a narrow view of things. We think of our town as if it were the world, of our family as if it composed the nation, and of the people in the next street as if in them we had the only models worth copying and the only critics worth respecting.
We may do better than that. Look out on the great world, on all the wonders of creation, on all the noble and good who have sacrificed themselves for their fellows, on the long course of history, on the millions who people the earth, and on the heaven that stretches above it. Then turn your thoughts upon yourselves and see whether there is any room in your minds for pride. I don't think there will be.
Be humble, then; yes, be very humble. Humility lies at the root of that religion of which, I hope, we are all true disciples. Christianity has no promises, no hopes, no encouragements to offer to the proud. In this world and in the next - though we too often act as if we thought the contrary - the humble have by a long way the best of it.
Turn over a new leaf, say I. When a girl is "stuck-up" she is in the most unbecoming state of mind possible, and the most uncomfortable, too. There is nothing like humility for beauty and happiness.
And what are you all proud about? Different things. Maggie is proud because she has a doll's house completely furnished from a piano to a blacking-brush; Kate because her father has five thousand pounds a year; Alice because her mother is second cousin to a baronet; Minnie because her golden hair reaches past her waist; Ellen because of that handsome dress she got last spring; Annie because she has a Grecian nose; and Blanche because her mind is made up to marry a prince - and so she will, no doubt when a prince drops down at her feet like a ripe gooseberry.
What trumpery reasons all of these are! A great conqueror, or a famous poet, or a wonderful musician, or a leading statesman, or a popular author - all these people might be excused if they carried their heads a little high. Your tendency, however, it must be confessed, is to be stuck-up about trifles, and so, for next to nothing, you put yourself in a fair way for growing up to be haughty and, it naturally follows, disagreeable women. But, my friends, you will take counsel in time, and we shall all adorn ourselves with that meek and quiet spirit which, more than pride and strength, wins and rules the world.
The worst of pride is that it stands in the way of improvement. It would not be correct to say that this is always the case, but certainly those who give themselves airs on account of what they are will not put forth great exertions to become something better. Stuck-up people are not the folks we see straining every nerve to become wiser or more estimable.
Pride almost invariably is fatal to the performance of any good work whatever, and for this reason; it is always thinking of itself. Now, the secret of doing successful work, and it is a secret easily carried about, is to think only of the work. The moment pride or anything else throws its shadow between us and our work, we are not likely to do it as it should be done. It is strange that on this account pride and many other objectionable passion have not long ago been hounded out of this busy world.
You will see, if you keep your eyes open, that proud people have very few friends. They sit alone, for they think none in the world good enough to associate with them. Who envies them their isolation? If they were happy it would be different, but they are pretty miserable. No one ever yet saw a proud face without observing in it lines of discontent and unhappiness that would be dearly bought even though we were in every other respect the favourites of fortune.
It is a common notion that pride is a proper sign of one's occupying a superior position in the world. This is quite a mistake. It is chiefly upstarts who give themselves air, and those who have been longest up have most humility. See that gentle lady whom you may watch for twenty years without noticing a trace of pride; she is descended in a direct line from Julius Caesar! Susan says she can supply a contrast. The most stuck-up woman she knows has "risen," as they say, "from nothing." When a little girl she used to run, without shoes or stockings, to the works in which her father made bricks, carrying him his dinner in a tin can. Now she has parted with both poverty and humility, and has as much pride in her head as she has little grammar on her tongue. Truly, as the world goes nowadays, the proudest people are those who ride in carriages and drop their "h's" all over the road.
Perhaps you think that to be humble is to be weak. Quite the reverse is the case: it is pride that is weak. Always going with its nose in the air, it forgets to look at its feet as all prudent people are in the habit of doing. No wonder pride comes before a fall, as Solomon says. A girl may well tumble in the gutter when she goes holding up her head as if she were keeping an eye on the man in the moon.
One great cause of pride, I am sure, is our taking a narrow view of things. We think of our town as if it were the world, of our family as if it composed the nation, and of the people in the next street as if in them we had the only models worth copying and the only critics worth respecting.
We may do better than that. Look out on the great world, on all the wonders of creation, on all the noble and good who have sacrificed themselves for their fellows, on the long course of history, on the millions who people the earth, and on the heaven that stretches above it. Then turn your thoughts upon yourselves and see whether there is any room in your minds for pride. I don't think there will be.
Be humble, then; yes, be very humble. Humility lies at the root of that religion of which, I hope, we are all true disciples. Christianity has no promises, no hopes, no encouragements to offer to the proud. In this world and in the next - though we too often act as if we thought the contrary - the humble have by a long way the best of it.
Saturday, 2 July 2016
18 September 1880 - 'On Nursing the Sick' by Medicus
For the following short paper, and the hints therein given, I am convinced that neither preface r apology is required. There are some things that every girl ought to learn to do, and learn to do well, and nursing the sick and ailing is certainly one of these. This is a kind of knowledge which is bound to come in useful some day, when mayhap a beloved brother or sister or parent is laid low on a bed of sickness. Love alone cannot raise the sufferer up nor ease a single ache, but nursing, carefully and correctly carried out, and guided by affection, can work wonders. Medicine is nothing without it, for good nursing will often pull a patient through even where physic has failed.
I will suppose now that you have a brother who has been stricken down with some disease, and that you have constituted yourself his nurse. The doctor has told you that the illness will not be a short one, but that with careful nursing and the medicines he will prescribe your brother will almost assuredly get well again. You perceive that the physician says almost assuredly. He dare not say more. The keys of life and death are in the hands not of him, but of a far higher power. You are naturally anxious, therefore, and determined to strive to do your best. Well, then, you are to remember in the first place to put great store upon every word that falls from the doctor's lips, and faithfully and punctually carry out all hi instructions.
The room itself in which your brother lies will demand attention. If you have the choice of many rooms, choose a large one, a cheerful one, and one that can be easily and thoroughly ventilated. I do not like a sick-room to look too like an hospital, but at the same time it should be furnished as a sick-room; all unnecessary furniture should therefore be sent away, and more especially all heavy hangings and curtains, because they harbour dust and infection, and take up the valuable room that is needed for air. Away, then, with lumbering chests of drawers, boxes, and wardrobes. One good-sized table will be useful, a little one also by the bedside, covered with a neat white cloth, on which medicine bottles may stand, and always a bottle of the coldest, purest water you can procure. The toilet articles should be few and useful, including, of course, a comb and brushes, with a hand looking-glass and a nice soft piece of sponge. The washstand should move on castors, so that it can be drawn noiselessly towards the bed; and how refreshing gentle washing to a fevered face is, or laving the hands and arms with cold water, only those who have been really ill can tell. The towels should be plentiful, and always soft and white, and neatly folded when not in use. Two, or at most three, chairs will be quite sufficient, and there should be a sofa in the room, one big enough to make up a temporary couch, with rugs and pillows, on which your patient can recline while the bed is being made. There must be no curtains to the bed, k ought to be just moderately and comfortably soft. The sheets ought to be cotton, and pray mark this: let the blankets be light and warm, the counterpane also a light one, and no more weight of any kind put on the bed than is absolutely necessary. Attention must be paid to the pillows, too; they ought to be elastic, and so arranged as to support the shoulders as well as the head. Air and water cushions may or may not be required in your brother's case. The doctor will tell you. A pocket arranged neatly on the wall will be handy for holding the patient's handkerchief, and a bottle of perfume or vinegarette. If you have a graduated medicine glass you will find it handy to measure the medicine with, and if soups have to be taken a feeder will obviate the necessity of raising him up too often.
And now here are a few of the things which you are on no account to leave in the sick room - unwashed cups, glasses, or dishes of any kind, the water the patient has washed in, the medicines no longer in use, or dirty linen, while a saucepan or cooking utensil and a slop pail should never enter the room.
The temperature of the room is very important, and a thermometer exceedingly cheap. A medium warmth is best, say about 60 degrees, or a little over if the sick one feels chilly at that. The air should not be allowed to get too dry, and a kettle of water on the fire, throwing out steam to moisten the atmosphere, may sometimes be necessary, but of this the physician will be the best judge.
My young readers must never forget that two things of the very highest importance in a sick-room are FRESH AIR and LIGHT. There is nothing more poisonous to a patient, nothing so surely curtails his chance of getting well and retards his recovery than breathing and re-breathing the same air. See, then, that the window and door are both thrown wide open for some time every day, so as to thoroughly change the atmosphere in the room. While this is being done you will be careful, of course, to cover your patient up to prevent the risk of his catching a chill, but this risk, let me tell you, is very small indeed while he is lying still in bed. Sick people are more apt to get cold by getting up momentarily from a warm bed without taking the precaution to wrap well up. Independent of this thorough every-day ventilating of the whole apartment, I sincerely advise you to have the window always a little open both at the bottom and the top, unless the weather is very damp or foggy. As to light, it ought to be in abundance, unless countermanded by the doctor, as it would be in certain brain and eye ailments. Nothing is more unervating for a sick person than to be kept in a semi-darkened room, and o other hand plenty of sunlight, and perhaps a cheerful view from the window, greatly tend to recovery.
You cannot be too careful in keeping the room tidy and clean; attend to it first thing in the morning, see to carpet, furniture, bed and bedding, and take away all spoons, glasses, cups, etc., to be washed. Do not do this fussily, but steadily and quietly.
Your patient himself will require many little personal attentions. His face and hands need sponging every morning and evening. This may be done either with cold or tepid water, whichever is more grateful to his feelings, and a little toilet vinegar may be added with advantage. The bed must be kept exceedingly neat, and smooth, and clean, and the body linen ought to be changed every three or four days. Have everything at hand before you begin to assist him to change, the doors and windows shut for the time, and the linen nicely aired, and warmed before the fire.
Your brother's gentle nurse must also pay some attention to her own dress and general deportment. She ought to be neat and clean in the extreme, and to mind what she wears. Rustling dresses, for example, are very trying to the nerves of a sick person, while creaking shoes are intolerable. Something that will wash had best be worn, something light and cheerful, like the room and all the sufferer's surroundings. On no account wear a black dress.
Your brother, whom I still suppose your patient, may be so ill as to be delirious or wandering in his talk; if so, he is never to be left alone, but carefully watched and, if need be, kindly but firmly controlled in his actions. If he be merely wandering in speech, appear to take an interest in what he says, but do not attempt to argue with him, or even to set him right. A clean white handkerchief dipped in cold water, in which a little vinegar has been mixed and placed on the brow, and changed whenever it gets hot, will often calm an excited patient, and sometimes induce gentle slumber. If your brother falls asleep, keep the room as still as possible, and at all times endeavour to prevent sudden noises, such as the slamming of doors or the rattling of kitchen utensils.
When people are ill they are naturally alarmed about themselves, and more especially will they be so if they observe that those around them take a gloomy view of their case. A nurse's watchword should therefore be HOPE. There is no better medicine, believe me. Never, therefore, give way to grief, nor show signs of it in your patient's presence. Always have a cheerful face. And do not allow those who may happen to visit your brother to talk about or dwell too much upon his state and condition. Lead them rather to speak about subjects of outdoor life, and in such a way as if you firmly believed, and everyone else did, that the patient would soon be up and around again in his old way. But do not talk yourself, nor allow your brother to talk to the verge of fatiguing him. You will naturally try to keep the room as quiet as possible by wearing light shoes, oiling creaking doors, and preventing clattering noises, but whatever you do avoid hurry and fidget and over-officiousness. This only tends to keep the sufferer in mind of his illness; so does *whispering in a sick room.
Do not bend much over the patient nor eat anything which may taint the breath. Remember that every mouthful of fresh air is of value to him. Give the medicine and the food at the proper time by your watch, and note down any change you may observe whether for the better or the worse, with the exact time of day at which it occurred. This ought to be shown to the doctor, and may be of very great service to him. Take care that the mouth and nostrils are not covered up during sleep, else the sufferer may be poisoned in the carbonic acid gas he has breathed. Keep the temperature of the room as uniform as possible both by night and day.
Be careful to say no word to discourage your patient, talk to him quietly but cheerfully, trying to lead his mind away from the state of his feelings. I need hardly say to you be always kind. A sick person is so sensitive, and very often fretful and peevish in the extreme, sometimes not seeming even grateful for all that is done for him. But if you would really be a good nurse and true, you must learn to put up with this.
I may in a future paper give some special rules for cooking for the invalid and the sick. Here I may simply remark that in the first stages of sickness but little food can be taken, and no persuasive force should be used to make the patient eat, for now the stomach is weak in the extreme. Drinks cooling and exhilarating will be of more consequence for the first few days. But when the long dark days of pain and sickness are past, when the glad period of convalescence has at length arrived, and the doctor has pronounced your brother out of danger and no longer needs to see him every day, when a brighter, clearer look comes into your patient's eye, and an easier smile plays around his lips, then, although you may move about with an easier mind, your duties of nurse must in no way be relaxed. Indeed, now the physician may be said to have almost given up the reins to you; you must, therefore, still continue to be gentle, firm, and kind to your brother. He needs quiet and rest more than anything else. His food must be given him on the principles of little and often. It should not be highly flavoured nor stimulating, but of small compass and nourishing, and most daintily served up. Let the cloth on the tray be of spotless white, the spoons and forks and knives as clean as clean can be, and the crystal polished and sparkling.
Avoid exciting your patient in any way; rather do all you can to soothe him. Still, let the room be bright and cheerful, and bring flowers to it; nothing is more pleasing to the eye of an invalid than beautiful flowers. Sometimes, too, a pretty pictorial representation of a scene from the New Testament, such as Jesus healing the sick, or "the Good Shepherd," will wisely supply beneficial food for thought when the poor patient is too weary to talk or to listen to others. And, oh, how many of our poor sick have been led in this way to the green pastures and still waters, to Jesus, the Saviour of the world! Read to your brother out of his favourite authors; this is eminently soothing to the nerves. Play to him if he cares for music. And now, with one more word of good advice, I conclude. Do not pester your patient with questions as to what he should like to eat or drink. Consult yourself as to this, and the little dainties you bring will then come in as welcome and glad surprises. I repeat my caution to you not to seem over officious, for it is curiously true that nothing is properly relished by a sick or nervous patient that seems forced upon him, not even love itself.
I will suppose now that you have a brother who has been stricken down with some disease, and that you have constituted yourself his nurse. The doctor has told you that the illness will not be a short one, but that with careful nursing and the medicines he will prescribe your brother will almost assuredly get well again. You perceive that the physician says almost assuredly. He dare not say more. The keys of life and death are in the hands not of him, but of a far higher power. You are naturally anxious, therefore, and determined to strive to do your best. Well, then, you are to remember in the first place to put great store upon every word that falls from the doctor's lips, and faithfully and punctually carry out all hi instructions.
The room itself in which your brother lies will demand attention. If you have the choice of many rooms, choose a large one, a cheerful one, and one that can be easily and thoroughly ventilated. I do not like a sick-room to look too like an hospital, but at the same time it should be furnished as a sick-room; all unnecessary furniture should therefore be sent away, and more especially all heavy hangings and curtains, because they harbour dust and infection, and take up the valuable room that is needed for air. Away, then, with lumbering chests of drawers, boxes, and wardrobes. One good-sized table will be useful, a little one also by the bedside, covered with a neat white cloth, on which medicine bottles may stand, and always a bottle of the coldest, purest water you can procure. The toilet articles should be few and useful, including, of course, a comb and brushes, with a hand looking-glass and a nice soft piece of sponge. The washstand should move on castors, so that it can be drawn noiselessly towards the bed; and how refreshing gentle washing to a fevered face is, or laving the hands and arms with cold water, only those who have been really ill can tell. The towels should be plentiful, and always soft and white, and neatly folded when not in use. Two, or at most three, chairs will be quite sufficient, and there should be a sofa in the room, one big enough to make up a temporary couch, with rugs and pillows, on which your patient can recline while the bed is being made. There must be no curtains to the bed, k ought to be just moderately and comfortably soft. The sheets ought to be cotton, and pray mark this: let the blankets be light and warm, the counterpane also a light one, and no more weight of any kind put on the bed than is absolutely necessary. Attention must be paid to the pillows, too; they ought to be elastic, and so arranged as to support the shoulders as well as the head. Air and water cushions may or may not be required in your brother's case. The doctor will tell you. A pocket arranged neatly on the wall will be handy for holding the patient's handkerchief, and a bottle of perfume or vinegarette. If you have a graduated medicine glass you will find it handy to measure the medicine with, and if soups have to be taken a feeder will obviate the necessity of raising him up too often.
And now here are a few of the things which you are on no account to leave in the sick room - unwashed cups, glasses, or dishes of any kind, the water the patient has washed in, the medicines no longer in use, or dirty linen, while a saucepan or cooking utensil and a slop pail should never enter the room.
The temperature of the room is very important, and a thermometer exceedingly cheap. A medium warmth is best, say about 60 degrees, or a little over if the sick one feels chilly at that. The air should not be allowed to get too dry, and a kettle of water on the fire, throwing out steam to moisten the atmosphere, may sometimes be necessary, but of this the physician will be the best judge.
My young readers must never forget that two things of the very highest importance in a sick-room are FRESH AIR and LIGHT. There is nothing more poisonous to a patient, nothing so surely curtails his chance of getting well and retards his recovery than breathing and re-breathing the same air. See, then, that the window and door are both thrown wide open for some time every day, so as to thoroughly change the atmosphere in the room. While this is being done you will be careful, of course, to cover your patient up to prevent the risk of his catching a chill, but this risk, let me tell you, is very small indeed while he is lying still in bed. Sick people are more apt to get cold by getting up momentarily from a warm bed without taking the precaution to wrap well up. Independent of this thorough every-day ventilating of the whole apartment, I sincerely advise you to have the window always a little open both at the bottom and the top, unless the weather is very damp or foggy. As to light, it ought to be in abundance, unless countermanded by the doctor, as it would be in certain brain and eye ailments. Nothing is more unervating for a sick person than to be kept in a semi-darkened room, and o other hand plenty of sunlight, and perhaps a cheerful view from the window, greatly tend to recovery.
You cannot be too careful in keeping the room tidy and clean; attend to it first thing in the morning, see to carpet, furniture, bed and bedding, and take away all spoons, glasses, cups, etc., to be washed. Do not do this fussily, but steadily and quietly.
Your patient himself will require many little personal attentions. His face and hands need sponging every morning and evening. This may be done either with cold or tepid water, whichever is more grateful to his feelings, and a little toilet vinegar may be added with advantage. The bed must be kept exceedingly neat, and smooth, and clean, and the body linen ought to be changed every three or four days. Have everything at hand before you begin to assist him to change, the doors and windows shut for the time, and the linen nicely aired, and warmed before the fire.
Your brother's gentle nurse must also pay some attention to her own dress and general deportment. She ought to be neat and clean in the extreme, and to mind what she wears. Rustling dresses, for example, are very trying to the nerves of a sick person, while creaking shoes are intolerable. Something that will wash had best be worn, something light and cheerful, like the room and all the sufferer's surroundings. On no account wear a black dress.
Your brother, whom I still suppose your patient, may be so ill as to be delirious or wandering in his talk; if so, he is never to be left alone, but carefully watched and, if need be, kindly but firmly controlled in his actions. If he be merely wandering in speech, appear to take an interest in what he says, but do not attempt to argue with him, or even to set him right. A clean white handkerchief dipped in cold water, in which a little vinegar has been mixed and placed on the brow, and changed whenever it gets hot, will often calm an excited patient, and sometimes induce gentle slumber. If your brother falls asleep, keep the room as still as possible, and at all times endeavour to prevent sudden noises, such as the slamming of doors or the rattling of kitchen utensils.
When people are ill they are naturally alarmed about themselves, and more especially will they be so if they observe that those around them take a gloomy view of their case. A nurse's watchword should therefore be HOPE. There is no better medicine, believe me. Never, therefore, give way to grief, nor show signs of it in your patient's presence. Always have a cheerful face. And do not allow those who may happen to visit your brother to talk about or dwell too much upon his state and condition. Lead them rather to speak about subjects of outdoor life, and in such a way as if you firmly believed, and everyone else did, that the patient would soon be up and around again in his old way. But do not talk yourself, nor allow your brother to talk to the verge of fatiguing him. You will naturally try to keep the room as quiet as possible by wearing light shoes, oiling creaking doors, and preventing clattering noises, but whatever you do avoid hurry and fidget and over-officiousness. This only tends to keep the sufferer in mind of his illness; so does *whispering in a sick room.
Do not bend much over the patient nor eat anything which may taint the breath. Remember that every mouthful of fresh air is of value to him. Give the medicine and the food at the proper time by your watch, and note down any change you may observe whether for the better or the worse, with the exact time of day at which it occurred. This ought to be shown to the doctor, and may be of very great service to him. Take care that the mouth and nostrils are not covered up during sleep, else the sufferer may be poisoned in the carbonic acid gas he has breathed. Keep the temperature of the room as uniform as possible both by night and day.
Be careful to say no word to discourage your patient, talk to him quietly but cheerfully, trying to lead his mind away from the state of his feelings. I need hardly say to you be always kind. A sick person is so sensitive, and very often fretful and peevish in the extreme, sometimes not seeming even grateful for all that is done for him. But if you would really be a good nurse and true, you must learn to put up with this.
I may in a future paper give some special rules for cooking for the invalid and the sick. Here I may simply remark that in the first stages of sickness but little food can be taken, and no persuasive force should be used to make the patient eat, for now the stomach is weak in the extreme. Drinks cooling and exhilarating will be of more consequence for the first few days. But when the long dark days of pain and sickness are past, when the glad period of convalescence has at length arrived, and the doctor has pronounced your brother out of danger and no longer needs to see him every day, when a brighter, clearer look comes into your patient's eye, and an easier smile plays around his lips, then, although you may move about with an easier mind, your duties of nurse must in no way be relaxed. Indeed, now the physician may be said to have almost given up the reins to you; you must, therefore, still continue to be gentle, firm, and kind to your brother. He needs quiet and rest more than anything else. His food must be given him on the principles of little and often. It should not be highly flavoured nor stimulating, but of small compass and nourishing, and most daintily served up. Let the cloth on the tray be of spotless white, the spoons and forks and knives as clean as clean can be, and the crystal polished and sparkling.
Avoid exciting your patient in any way; rather do all you can to soothe him. Still, let the room be bright and cheerful, and bring flowers to it; nothing is more pleasing to the eye of an invalid than beautiful flowers. Sometimes, too, a pretty pictorial representation of a scene from the New Testament, such as Jesus healing the sick, or "the Good Shepherd," will wisely supply beneficial food for thought when the poor patient is too weary to talk or to listen to others. And, oh, how many of our poor sick have been led in this way to the green pastures and still waters, to Jesus, the Saviour of the world! Read to your brother out of his favourite authors; this is eminently soothing to the nerves. Play to him if he cares for music. And now, with one more word of good advice, I conclude. Do not pester your patient with questions as to what he should like to eat or drink. Consult yourself as to this, and the little dainties you bring will then come in as welcome and glad surprises. I repeat my caution to you not to seem over officious, for it is curiously true that nothing is properly relished by a sick or nervous patient that seems forced upon him, not even love itself.
Thursday, 30 June 2016
11 September 1880 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous
W.A.A. - You ask no question, or we should have had more than ordinary pleasure in answering one who sends such a charmingly-expressed and gracious a letter, solely to express her thanks to the editor and his staff of contributors. Any trouble we take is amply rewarded by the receipt of letters like yours.
GLADYS - 1. It is very ill-bred to reply, "It is granted" when a person begs pardon for some trifling accident or little breach of etiquette, because by so doing you imply that such pardon was required. On the contrary, you should repudiate the idea that you had received any injury or slight, ad so set your friend at ease. "Not at all," "Don't mention it," or some such words suitable to the occasion, would be in better taste. 2. Never omit to thank either man, woman, or child (whether gentle or simple) for any little service or attention. Say "Thank you," or, "I am obliged to you," if to a gentleman, and you wish to be formal; never say "thanks" -it is a vulgar abbreviation, and to an inferior would be much too familiar. From so constantly hearing the word, even well-bred people have fallen into the habit of using it. 3. Be careful not to make any one repeat what they have said. Rather guess what has been said, and let them correct your mistake. To say, "I beg your pardon" has become such a trick amongst young people that they make themselves quite a nuisance. Never pass any acquaintance as if unknown to you; but a slight smile and equally slight inclination of the head would be sufficient, should your eyes meet the second time of passing them. 4. You should not say, "You are welcome" when a tradesman thanks you for paying his bill. 5. The lady has the right of bowing first; circumstances must regulate the question of which speaks first after the recognition.
GREEN PEA PODS - 1. Yes. 2. Feed your toy terrier as often as you feed yourself. Share your meals with it, but give plenty of exercise, else it will get fat. 3. No, we certainly do not admire your handwriting.
MAROON - So long as you find that your gums are not irritated by cleaning your teeth with soot, and that it does not go between the gums and teeth, you may continue its use.
CORA - I fear that you would not be suitable for a companion, as you do not express yourself in good English, for you should be able to undertake the correspondence of your employer, if required. The qualifications of a companion are similar, in many respects, to those of a governess. She should play fairly well, and be able to accompany any one who sings; should be a good needlewoman; understand something of both nursing and housekeeping, should be an agreeable reader, understanding how to modulate her voice, and where to lay the emphasis of any sentence. She should be equally agreeable in conversation, pleasing in manner; knowing how to maintain a certain degree of reserve, and how to keep up her own dignity, and yet not to place herself on an equality with her employer, which requires a good deal of tact. You say that you "move in genteel society"; this is a vulgarism, and if you made use of such an expression to the lady about to engage you - if a well-bred person herself - she would judge you by it, and decline your services.
GLADYS - 1. It is very ill-bred to reply, "It is granted" when a person begs pardon for some trifling accident or little breach of etiquette, because by so doing you imply that such pardon was required. On the contrary, you should repudiate the idea that you had received any injury or slight, ad so set your friend at ease. "Not at all," "Don't mention it," or some such words suitable to the occasion, would be in better taste. 2. Never omit to thank either man, woman, or child (whether gentle or simple) for any little service or attention. Say "Thank you," or, "I am obliged to you," if to a gentleman, and you wish to be formal; never say "thanks" -it is a vulgar abbreviation, and to an inferior would be much too familiar. From so constantly hearing the word, even well-bred people have fallen into the habit of using it. 3. Be careful not to make any one repeat what they have said. Rather guess what has been said, and let them correct your mistake. To say, "I beg your pardon" has become such a trick amongst young people that they make themselves quite a nuisance. Never pass any acquaintance as if unknown to you; but a slight smile and equally slight inclination of the head would be sufficient, should your eyes meet the second time of passing them. 4. You should not say, "You are welcome" when a tradesman thanks you for paying his bill. 5. The lady has the right of bowing first; circumstances must regulate the question of which speaks first after the recognition.
GREEN PEA PODS - 1. Yes. 2. Feed your toy terrier as often as you feed yourself. Share your meals with it, but give plenty of exercise, else it will get fat. 3. No, we certainly do not admire your handwriting.
MAROON - So long as you find that your gums are not irritated by cleaning your teeth with soot, and that it does not go between the gums and teeth, you may continue its use.
CORA - I fear that you would not be suitable for a companion, as you do not express yourself in good English, for you should be able to undertake the correspondence of your employer, if required. The qualifications of a companion are similar, in many respects, to those of a governess. She should play fairly well, and be able to accompany any one who sings; should be a good needlewoman; understand something of both nursing and housekeeping, should be an agreeable reader, understanding how to modulate her voice, and where to lay the emphasis of any sentence. She should be equally agreeable in conversation, pleasing in manner; knowing how to maintain a certain degree of reserve, and how to keep up her own dignity, and yet not to place herself on an equality with her employer, which requires a good deal of tact. You say that you "move in genteel society"; this is a vulgarism, and if you made use of such an expression to the lady about to engage you - if a well-bred person herself - she would judge you by it, and decline your services.
Tuesday, 28 June 2016
11 September 1880 - Answers to Correspondents - Cookery
M.S.T. - 1. To make a "corn dodger," pour boiling water on one quart of Indian meal till all be wet, but no water about it. Add two tablespoonfuls of flour and one teaspoonful of salt. Mix well and spread it smoothly on a plate or pan previously heated and oiled. Then set on the fire, and as soon as able pass a knife under the paste to turn it; and lastly, stand it up before the fire to toast. 2. "Imperial" is very easily made. Take cream of tartar 1/2 oz, lemon peel 3 oz, white sugar 4 oz, boiling water 3 pints. Mix all together, cover, and leave it to cool. It is a good beverage in cases of fever, or for ordinary use in hot weather.
LOTTIE - "Frumenty," otherwise called "furmety" and "frumenty," is popular in counties besides Lincolnshire. It consists of wheat boiled first in water and then in milk, with a little admixture of flour. Sugar and spice are added, and sometimes currants, raisins, eggs and lemon peel.
JEMIMA - To make lemon-kali, use of powdered white sugar 1/2 lb, tartaric acid and carbonate of soda of each 1/4 lb, and 40 drops of essence of lemon. Add the latter to the sugar, and mix well. Then the other powder; and having dried it well, pass through a sieve, and keep in a closely-corked bottle. A teaspoonful will suffice for a small tumbler of water, until it concretes into small grains, like salt of tartar; and pearlash is of the some nature. Your writing is not at all well formed, and we should imagine that you have been more in the habit of writing in the German character.
KITTY - Water and cream ices are of many kinds respectively, and one example of each must suffice. A strawberry water-ice is made thus: Pick 1 lb of strawberries and 4 oz of red currants; bruise all together, with a gill of syrup, in a basin with a wooden spoon, and rub the fruit through a hair sieve into another basin. Then add a pint of syrup, freeze, and set up. To make the same fruit into cream-ice, bruise a pound of them with 8 oz of sifted white sugar, rub through a hair sieve, add the pulp to a pint of thick cream, freeze, and serve. To make current and raspberry cream-ice, bruise 1 lb of red currants and 1/2 lb of raspberries, with 10 oz of sifted sugar; stir in a sugar boiler on the fire until it begins to simmer; then rub the fruit through the sieve, mix the pulp with a pint of cream, and freeze it.
ZARA - 1. To pot shrimps, remove the tails from the shells of a quart of shrimps freshly boiled. Pound the shells in a mortar with 4 oz of clarified butter, a small blade of mace, a teaspoonful of anchovy, and a little cayenne pepper. Place all in a stewpan with a small quantity of bruised lobster spawn, and stir over the fire for about eight minutes. Then rub it through a coarse hair sieve, and then add the tails. Make all hot together and fill the pots, covering with clarified butter. Lay them by in a cool place. 2. To glaze either a tongue or ham, boil a shin of beef for twelve hours in eight or ten quarts of water, and draw the gravy from a knuckle of veal in the same way. Put in spices and herbs, and add all to the shin of beef. Boil till reduced to a quart, and, when required, warm a little and spread it over the tongue or ham with a feather. It will keep good for a year in a cold place.
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS - 1. For a rich "Shrewsbury cake" take 1 lb of flour, 10 oz of finely-powdered loaf sugar, 10 oz of butter, 1/2 a nutmeg, grated, the same quantity of ground cinnamon, and two eggs. For a common one take 12 oz of flour, 4 oz of butter, 4 oz powdered loaf sugar, one egg, and sufficient milk to make a paste. If lightness be desired, add 1 dram of finely-powdered volatile salt. Rub the butter in with the flour till reduced to fine crumbs; and make a hollow, into which pour the milk, sugar, eggs, and spice. Make a moderately firm paste, roll out to about one-eighth of an inch in thickness; then divide into cakes with a round butter. Lay on buttered baking sheets, and bake in a cool oven.
LOTTIE - "Frumenty," otherwise called "furmety" and "frumenty," is popular in counties besides Lincolnshire. It consists of wheat boiled first in water and then in milk, with a little admixture of flour. Sugar and spice are added, and sometimes currants, raisins, eggs and lemon peel.
JEMIMA - To make lemon-kali, use of powdered white sugar 1/2 lb, tartaric acid and carbonate of soda of each 1/4 lb, and 40 drops of essence of lemon. Add the latter to the sugar, and mix well. Then the other powder; and having dried it well, pass through a sieve, and keep in a closely-corked bottle. A teaspoonful will suffice for a small tumbler of water, until it concretes into small grains, like salt of tartar; and pearlash is of the some nature. Your writing is not at all well formed, and we should imagine that you have been more in the habit of writing in the German character.
KITTY - Water and cream ices are of many kinds respectively, and one example of each must suffice. A strawberry water-ice is made thus: Pick 1 lb of strawberries and 4 oz of red currants; bruise all together, with a gill of syrup, in a basin with a wooden spoon, and rub the fruit through a hair sieve into another basin. Then add a pint of syrup, freeze, and set up. To make the same fruit into cream-ice, bruise a pound of them with 8 oz of sifted white sugar, rub through a hair sieve, add the pulp to a pint of thick cream, freeze, and serve. To make current and raspberry cream-ice, bruise 1 lb of red currants and 1/2 lb of raspberries, with 10 oz of sifted sugar; stir in a sugar boiler on the fire until it begins to simmer; then rub the fruit through the sieve, mix the pulp with a pint of cream, and freeze it.
ZARA - 1. To pot shrimps, remove the tails from the shells of a quart of shrimps freshly boiled. Pound the shells in a mortar with 4 oz of clarified butter, a small blade of mace, a teaspoonful of anchovy, and a little cayenne pepper. Place all in a stewpan with a small quantity of bruised lobster spawn, and stir over the fire for about eight minutes. Then rub it through a coarse hair sieve, and then add the tails. Make all hot together and fill the pots, covering with clarified butter. Lay them by in a cool place. 2. To glaze either a tongue or ham, boil a shin of beef for twelve hours in eight or ten quarts of water, and draw the gravy from a knuckle of veal in the same way. Put in spices and herbs, and add all to the shin of beef. Boil till reduced to a quart, and, when required, warm a little and spread it over the tongue or ham with a feather. It will keep good for a year in a cold place.
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS - 1. For a rich "Shrewsbury cake" take 1 lb of flour, 10 oz of finely-powdered loaf sugar, 10 oz of butter, 1/2 a nutmeg, grated, the same quantity of ground cinnamon, and two eggs. For a common one take 12 oz of flour, 4 oz of butter, 4 oz powdered loaf sugar, one egg, and sufficient milk to make a paste. If lightness be desired, add 1 dram of finely-powdered volatile salt. Rub the butter in with the flour till reduced to fine crumbs; and make a hollow, into which pour the milk, sugar, eggs, and spice. Make a moderately firm paste, roll out to about one-eighth of an inch in thickness; then divide into cakes with a round butter. Lay on buttered baking sheets, and bake in a cool oven.
Sunday, 26 June 2016
4 September 1880 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous
Don't butter your cat. Okay? Okay.
KATHLEEN BARTON wishes for "a good remedy for bad temper, for frightened people, and for making dogs thin." For the first we might re-introduce the old English "ducking stool" - a cure for "scolds." For the next, we should first know how they become "frightened people." For the third, reduce their allowance of food.
DOLLY VARDEN NO.2 - 1. You are quite right to hesitate over accepting even a flower from gentlemen with whom you have to do in your business; considering how familiar they frequently are, we strongly advise you to decline very politely, with a slight bow, saying, "You must kindly excuse me but I do not accept flowers from gentlemen" Of course your conduct and manner must be all "of a piece," and you should avoid joking and laughing with them. 2. Perhaps you might obtain a situation as a book-keeper.
SUSANNAH H - We advise you to banish from your mind all thoughts of being what you always call a "goveness". Your spelling, writing, grammar, and common style of expressing yourself render a girl, already nearly fifteen, quite incompetent to prepare for such a situation. We never before heard of such a person as a "short-hand goveness." From your desire to educate yourself, and thereby earn your living, we daresay you are a nice little girl; but if you applied as much zeal to e a good needlewoman, to make dresses, and to dress hair, you are still young enough to fit yourself for a good situation as a lady's maid. Or else you might learn to be a cook, and you could attend classes.
PUSSY - 1. Perhaps if you cut off a little of your cat's hair, and buttered the shortened coat, you might induce her to keep herself clean. 2. The Freemasons claim King Solomon as a member of their society, we believe, but a recent authority says that English Freemasonry does not date back further than Queen Anne's time, and the building of the cathedral of Cologne is given as the date of that on the Continent.
KATHLEEN BARTON wishes for "a good remedy for bad temper, for frightened people, and for making dogs thin." For the first we might re-introduce the old English "ducking stool" - a cure for "scolds." For the next, we should first know how they become "frightened people." For the third, reduce their allowance of food.
DOLLY VARDEN NO.2 - 1. You are quite right to hesitate over accepting even a flower from gentlemen with whom you have to do in your business; considering how familiar they frequently are, we strongly advise you to decline very politely, with a slight bow, saying, "You must kindly excuse me but I do not accept flowers from gentlemen" Of course your conduct and manner must be all "of a piece," and you should avoid joking and laughing with them. 2. Perhaps you might obtain a situation as a book-keeper.
SUSANNAH H - We advise you to banish from your mind all thoughts of being what you always call a "goveness". Your spelling, writing, grammar, and common style of expressing yourself render a girl, already nearly fifteen, quite incompetent to prepare for such a situation. We never before heard of such a person as a "short-hand goveness." From your desire to educate yourself, and thereby earn your living, we daresay you are a nice little girl; but if you applied as much zeal to e a good needlewoman, to make dresses, and to dress hair, you are still young enough to fit yourself for a good situation as a lady's maid. Or else you might learn to be a cook, and you could attend classes.
PUSSY - 1. Perhaps if you cut off a little of your cat's hair, and buttered the shortened coat, you might induce her to keep herself clean. 2. The Freemasons claim King Solomon as a member of their society, we believe, but a recent authority says that English Freemasonry does not date back further than Queen Anne's time, and the building of the cathedral of Cologne is given as the date of that on the Continent.
Friday, 24 June 2016
4 September 1880 - 'The Working Girls of London' by Mrs G.S. Reany, of Reading
I wonder how many readers actually had any real idea about what "temptations" are being referred to below?
The heart of some are strangely drawn today to protect from the sorrows surrounding them, and to win to a more happy and hopeful life, the 40,000 working girls who are to be found in the city of London alone.
The sympathy thus felt has taken practical form in the establishment of houses where board and lodging may be procured at a very nominal charge. Three houses of this description have been opened in the past two years, while we believe one or two others with a similar object have actually been in existence for some long period before. But as the united efforts of all the houses now in active operation would not do more than accommodate some 300 working girls, it will be readily admitted that before the actual needs of the 40,000 are met very much more has to be done.
And who is to do it?*
It must not be supposed that the whole of the 40,000 working girls of London are without good homes at the present time, for many of that number "live at home with their parents" and have no need to take lodgings anywhere. But at the same time there are several thousand who have found their way up from the country, owing to the scarcity of the work there, or because London always presents attractions to the young, who cannot be persuaded, until experience has proved to the contrary, that London wages are not always good, and that you have no need to ask twice before securing just the work you require. And it is for these, many of them young girls in their teens, for whom we would to-day ask sympathy.
After leaning by bitter experience that work cannot so readily be had, and that when obtained it often brings but a low wage, these girls find that they are obliged to keep themselves in board, lodging and clothing on the scanty pittance of 4s 6d a week, not to say anything about a wage which in some cases never exceeds half-a-crown.
This fact necessitates a very low-priced lodging - the half of a bed, probably in a well-packed lodging-house, where the overheated room causes headache and sleeplessness, and has, in time, a most deleterious effect upon the health. But what else can be done under the circumstances? One shilling a week for a bed - and this is, probably, placing it at the lowest cost - makes a large hole in the wage of 4s 6d. Out of the remaining 3s 6d food has to be obtained for seven days, averaging, at least, two meals a day; and some few coppers have to be spared to pay off the debt already incurred for boots or just so much clothing as helps to make the wearer respectable.
We must let down the curtain before the awful temptations which so surely present themselves to girls of this class to enable them to obtain a few additional shillings from time to time to eke out their scanty little income. But, dear sisters in sheltered homes, remember, though we have let down the curtain, the temptations are there, real, painfully real. We spare your eyes, your hearts; but those of whom we write will not be spared; possibly their trial may double what it need be because you know nothing of it, for if you did know, at least you would help them with your sympathy and means, and give them, if nothing else, hope of better things.
We have heard of a mother who, when wishing to bring home to her children their dependence upon others, with the desire to call forth sympathy for those who might otherwise have been slighted and scorned, would say, "Well, now let us consider where all the things you wear came from, by whom they were produced and made just what they are. Now, let us think of what you use, of things which may be but luxuries in your life, but which have come to you through the toil and earnest labour of others." A very wholesome lesson this. Would that more mothers gave it. Were it given with faithfulness in every detail we feel sure the working girls of London would have more of our thoughts and sympathy than the now possess.
I learnt to realise this more one certain evening, in the autumn of '78. I had been invited to give an address at one of the Working Girls' Homes alluded to above, which, because it had been called a home, and not a house (committees learn wisdom by experience), had been held lightly in esteem by those for whom it was intended. A free tea, with the promise of this address, formed evidently a great attraction, for, at the time named upon the ticket of admission, the basement of the house was crowded with just the girls who, until to-night, had passed and repassed the home with scornful indifference. More were waiting outside when I gained the Honorary Secretary's permission to draw off some who had already finished tea to the upper part of the house, where they could inspect bedrooms, bath-room, etc.
Some twenty or more followed me upstairs, quite unconscious that I was "the lady" whose address they were supposed to have come to hear. This gave me a grand opportunity of having a friendly talk with them. They spoke without any reserve, and, after a little while, we sat down in one of the upper bedrooms, and had a regular "experience meeting," but of a somewhat novel kind and character.
"Ah, dear," said one of the saddest-looking of my friends to me, putting her arm round my waist, and giving me a hearty kiss (which I greatly enjoyed, and felt grateful to her for giving) - "ah, dear, if only ladies would give us time, our life would be far less of a drudgery. How many ladies never take the poor dressmaker into consideration when they give their order for a dress to be made! They leave it all until the last moment, and then they are in such a dreadful hurry that poor we have to suffer. If they would but think that we, too, had our lives to live."
"In what way do you mean?" I enquired, a little wondering what explanation she would give to me.
"Why I mean this," she replied. "You know I'm married. Ah! I don't look old enough, do I, but I was but a girl when I settled down. Well, last week my baby was ill. I pay a neighbour to take charge of her, but one morning I left home with a very heavy heart. I longed for night to come to go back to the child. I am forced to go out; if I did not help to keep the pot boiling we should be nowhere. When seven o'clock was nearly come that day my heart was all of a tremble with longing to go back to my Annie - bless her! When in comes our forewoman and says she, 'You'll all have to stay on until that dress is finished. I've just received a note from the lady you are making it for, and she says if not home to-night it will be of no use to her, as she leaves for the Continent in the morning!' Home that night, and the order had only come in a few hours before! We had to work hard until eleven, and every stitch I put in had a heart yearning for little Annie in it! I had said I should be back soon after seven, and I wondered what the neighbour would be after when she found I did not come. Now if that lady happened just to have known all the circumstances would she not have regretted hurrying us so?"
Of course she would! But how was she likely to know? Only by coming in close personal contact with these busy workers. Perhaps the simplest and the easiest way of doing this would be to attend one of Mrs. Fisher's meetings at 165 Aldersgate-street, held daily from 1 p.m. until 1.40 for these dear girls. Yes! Dear girls, it only needs to know them to care for them, to sympathise with them, and to long to be helpful to them.
We are so apt to forget that they are women as well as workers. That they have their thoughts and feelings, their joys and sorrows, their home life cares and responsibilities. That they are in short what we ourselves would be if the circumstances of our lives were changed, and if instead of being the favoured daughters of well-to-do or wealthy homes, we were the children of the poor who had to work in order that they might eat.
The three homes established in London during the past two years are Alexandra House 88 St. John's-street, West Smithfield; Victoria House, 135, Queen's-road, Bayswater; and Mortley House, 14 Fitzroy-street, Fitzroy-square.
In these houses board can be procured for 4s 6d a week, or, when preferred, each meal may be paid for separately, at a charge of 2 1/2d for breakfast, 6d for dinner, 2 1/2d for tea, or 1d for supper. Each resident in the house has to be 2s 6d or 3s a week for lodging, and she has to also pay for her own washing.
To charge more than the above quoted price would be to close the door practically to just the class of working girls most in need of these houses; therefore, it becomes needful to supplement in some form the income secured by the payment of the girls alone, in order to meet the very heavy outlay of rent, rates, taxes, and coal. And it is to aid in this that an appeal is made to our "English girls" of happier circumstances.
A lady much interested in the Zenana Mission wondered how she could find the means to send an annual subscription to the funds and out of her wonderings grew a shorter train, and thereby the saving of material in her dress, less costly bonnets, and a variety of those small self-denials in dress which do cost a woman something but which may most cheerfully be given to Him who said "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me;" and the result of it all has been the sum of £2 10s a year saved out of personal expenditure on dress, and devoted to the great work of sending messengers of glad tidings to the sad and sorrowful women who people the Zenanas of India, to whom the Gospel of Peace has never been brought.
Gnetle reader, is there no small self-sacrifice you could make in dress, to put within your hands some offering to make the Master Himself, in the form of helping forward the great work of providing comfortable homes - with all that that thought may mean - for the working girls of London?
Will you seriously think the matter over?
*If all who read THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER would contribute the sum of one shilling, sending it to J. Shrimpton, Esq., 38, Lincoln's Inn Fields, Hon. Secretary of the Working Girls' Homes, a fund would at once be started out of which many new houses might be planted in the neighbourhoods most needing them.
The heart of some are strangely drawn today to protect from the sorrows surrounding them, and to win to a more happy and hopeful life, the 40,000 working girls who are to be found in the city of London alone.
The sympathy thus felt has taken practical form in the establishment of houses where board and lodging may be procured at a very nominal charge. Three houses of this description have been opened in the past two years, while we believe one or two others with a similar object have actually been in existence for some long period before. But as the united efforts of all the houses now in active operation would not do more than accommodate some 300 working girls, it will be readily admitted that before the actual needs of the 40,000 are met very much more has to be done.
And who is to do it?*
It must not be supposed that the whole of the 40,000 working girls of London are without good homes at the present time, for many of that number "live at home with their parents" and have no need to take lodgings anywhere. But at the same time there are several thousand who have found their way up from the country, owing to the scarcity of the work there, or because London always presents attractions to the young, who cannot be persuaded, until experience has proved to the contrary, that London wages are not always good, and that you have no need to ask twice before securing just the work you require. And it is for these, many of them young girls in their teens, for whom we would to-day ask sympathy.
After leaning by bitter experience that work cannot so readily be had, and that when obtained it often brings but a low wage, these girls find that they are obliged to keep themselves in board, lodging and clothing on the scanty pittance of 4s 6d a week, not to say anything about a wage which in some cases never exceeds half-a-crown.
This fact necessitates a very low-priced lodging - the half of a bed, probably in a well-packed lodging-house, where the overheated room causes headache and sleeplessness, and has, in time, a most deleterious effect upon the health. But what else can be done under the circumstances? One shilling a week for a bed - and this is, probably, placing it at the lowest cost - makes a large hole in the wage of 4s 6d. Out of the remaining 3s 6d food has to be obtained for seven days, averaging, at least, two meals a day; and some few coppers have to be spared to pay off the debt already incurred for boots or just so much clothing as helps to make the wearer respectable.
We must let down the curtain before the awful temptations which so surely present themselves to girls of this class to enable them to obtain a few additional shillings from time to time to eke out their scanty little income. But, dear sisters in sheltered homes, remember, though we have let down the curtain, the temptations are there, real, painfully real. We spare your eyes, your hearts; but those of whom we write will not be spared; possibly their trial may double what it need be because you know nothing of it, for if you did know, at least you would help them with your sympathy and means, and give them, if nothing else, hope of better things.
We have heard of a mother who, when wishing to bring home to her children their dependence upon others, with the desire to call forth sympathy for those who might otherwise have been slighted and scorned, would say, "Well, now let us consider where all the things you wear came from, by whom they were produced and made just what they are. Now, let us think of what you use, of things which may be but luxuries in your life, but which have come to you through the toil and earnest labour of others." A very wholesome lesson this. Would that more mothers gave it. Were it given with faithfulness in every detail we feel sure the working girls of London would have more of our thoughts and sympathy than the now possess.
I learnt to realise this more one certain evening, in the autumn of '78. I had been invited to give an address at one of the Working Girls' Homes alluded to above, which, because it had been called a home, and not a house (committees learn wisdom by experience), had been held lightly in esteem by those for whom it was intended. A free tea, with the promise of this address, formed evidently a great attraction, for, at the time named upon the ticket of admission, the basement of the house was crowded with just the girls who, until to-night, had passed and repassed the home with scornful indifference. More were waiting outside when I gained the Honorary Secretary's permission to draw off some who had already finished tea to the upper part of the house, where they could inspect bedrooms, bath-room, etc.
Some twenty or more followed me upstairs, quite unconscious that I was "the lady" whose address they were supposed to have come to hear. This gave me a grand opportunity of having a friendly talk with them. They spoke without any reserve, and, after a little while, we sat down in one of the upper bedrooms, and had a regular "experience meeting," but of a somewhat novel kind and character.
"Ah, dear," said one of the saddest-looking of my friends to me, putting her arm round my waist, and giving me a hearty kiss (which I greatly enjoyed, and felt grateful to her for giving) - "ah, dear, if only ladies would give us time, our life would be far less of a drudgery. How many ladies never take the poor dressmaker into consideration when they give their order for a dress to be made! They leave it all until the last moment, and then they are in such a dreadful hurry that poor we have to suffer. If they would but think that we, too, had our lives to live."
"In what way do you mean?" I enquired, a little wondering what explanation she would give to me.
"Why I mean this," she replied. "You know I'm married. Ah! I don't look old enough, do I, but I was but a girl when I settled down. Well, last week my baby was ill. I pay a neighbour to take charge of her, but one morning I left home with a very heavy heart. I longed for night to come to go back to the child. I am forced to go out; if I did not help to keep the pot boiling we should be nowhere. When seven o'clock was nearly come that day my heart was all of a tremble with longing to go back to my Annie - bless her! When in comes our forewoman and says she, 'You'll all have to stay on until that dress is finished. I've just received a note from the lady you are making it for, and she says if not home to-night it will be of no use to her, as she leaves for the Continent in the morning!' Home that night, and the order had only come in a few hours before! We had to work hard until eleven, and every stitch I put in had a heart yearning for little Annie in it! I had said I should be back soon after seven, and I wondered what the neighbour would be after when she found I did not come. Now if that lady happened just to have known all the circumstances would she not have regretted hurrying us so?"
Of course she would! But how was she likely to know? Only by coming in close personal contact with these busy workers. Perhaps the simplest and the easiest way of doing this would be to attend one of Mrs. Fisher's meetings at 165 Aldersgate-street, held daily from 1 p.m. until 1.40 for these dear girls. Yes! Dear girls, it only needs to know them to care for them, to sympathise with them, and to long to be helpful to them.
We are so apt to forget that they are women as well as workers. That they have their thoughts and feelings, their joys and sorrows, their home life cares and responsibilities. That they are in short what we ourselves would be if the circumstances of our lives were changed, and if instead of being the favoured daughters of well-to-do or wealthy homes, we were the children of the poor who had to work in order that they might eat.
The three homes established in London during the past two years are Alexandra House 88 St. John's-street, West Smithfield; Victoria House, 135, Queen's-road, Bayswater; and Mortley House, 14 Fitzroy-street, Fitzroy-square.
In these houses board can be procured for 4s 6d a week, or, when preferred, each meal may be paid for separately, at a charge of 2 1/2d for breakfast, 6d for dinner, 2 1/2d for tea, or 1d for supper. Each resident in the house has to be 2s 6d or 3s a week for lodging, and she has to also pay for her own washing.
To charge more than the above quoted price would be to close the door practically to just the class of working girls most in need of these houses; therefore, it becomes needful to supplement in some form the income secured by the payment of the girls alone, in order to meet the very heavy outlay of rent, rates, taxes, and coal. And it is to aid in this that an appeal is made to our "English girls" of happier circumstances.
A lady much interested in the Zenana Mission wondered how she could find the means to send an annual subscription to the funds and out of her wonderings grew a shorter train, and thereby the saving of material in her dress, less costly bonnets, and a variety of those small self-denials in dress which do cost a woman something but which may most cheerfully be given to Him who said "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me;" and the result of it all has been the sum of £2 10s a year saved out of personal expenditure on dress, and devoted to the great work of sending messengers of glad tidings to the sad and sorrowful women who people the Zenanas of India, to whom the Gospel of Peace has never been brought.
Gnetle reader, is there no small self-sacrifice you could make in dress, to put within your hands some offering to make the Master Himself, in the form of helping forward the great work of providing comfortable homes - with all that that thought may mean - for the working girls of London?
Will you seriously think the matter over?
*If all who read THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER would contribute the sum of one shilling, sending it to J. Shrimpton, Esq., 38, Lincoln's Inn Fields, Hon. Secretary of the Working Girls' Homes, a fund would at once be started out of which many new houses might be planted in the neighbourhoods most needing them.
Tuesday, 21 June 2016
28 August 1880 - 'Baths at Home and Baths by the Sea' by Medicus
The morning bath, or tub, as it is often called, is eminently suited for the constitution of everyone, young or old, unless exceedingly delicate. If you have not been in the habit of indulging in this luxury I do not advise you to commence the habit of matutinal cold water bathing all at once. The tepid soap bath will, in nine cases out of ten, suit young girls better, and they will not have taken a dozen morning baths of this kind before they become sensible of an increase in the appetite, in strength, and in good spirits, and in the capability of enjoying life and everything of good that is in this life. By the use of the soap bath, too, the complexion gradually becomes more clear and delicate, the roseate hues of health begin to bloom on the cheeks, and the skin is rendered as soft and pliant as that of a little child. This bath, too, causes the eye to become beautifully clear, and I know of nothing else that will do this.
Now, what is it you require in order to render this bath of mine quite a luxury, as well as an invigorator of both mind and body? Why, the soap bath is simple in the extreme. In your dressing-room you have cold soft water and a sponge, probably placed there over night, so that it is, in the morning, of the same temperature as the air; then you have a nice soft Turkish washing glove, and a piece of plain yellow or primrose soap - not scented, that were dangerous to health; then standing before a basin of hot water, the whole body is quickly lathered and rubbed thoroughly. This ought to occupy not more than say three minutes, and after this comes the cold sponge bath, which need not take more than a minute and a half. A moderately coarse towel should be used, and the skin should be thoroughly dried. Remember that the towel must not be rough enough to irritate the skin, but only to produce a pleasant glow; remember, too, that there must be no dawdling over the bath - dawdle as much as you please over the dressing, but bathe with judicious celerity; and remember, thirdly, that you must never neglect to wet the head with cold water, else disagreeable sensations may be the result.
The bath is to be taken on an empty stomach, and immediately after getting out of bed. The slight shock caused by the cold water will be succeeded by feelings very delightful indeed, feelings which I might describe if I chose but will not, as I want you to experience them.
There are sponge baths, and plunge baths, and shower baths, all of which may be taken at home, but of all forms of household bathing commend me to the one I have just tried to describe. In cold weather, I may tell you, great advantage will be found from drying and dressing in front of a fire. Having dressed and had breakfast, eaten I trust leisurely, half an hour's brisk walking will do you all the good in the world.
This walk greatly aids the effect of the bath, and tends to raise the spirits and cause everything to appear couleur de rose during the rest of the day.
I said take the bath in your dressing-room, because the air of the bed-room is generally more or less vitiated, but if the convenience of the former is not to be had, better have it in the room in which you sleep rather than not at all. The air of a bed-room, however, has no right to be impure, if people would only take my advice and sleep with a little bit at the top of the window open; the most delicate maiden can do this with impunity almost, if not quite, all the year round.
The soap bath renders those who take it regularly hardy and happy. They come in time to have the keenest relish for life-existence, the appetite is increased, and indigestion kept at bay; and if ever they do catch cold, which is unlikely, the complaint lasts but a very short time indeed, and is seldom painful or dangerous. Of course, during a cold, the bath must be foregone for a few days. You may commence the use of the soap bath at any age, or at any time of the year.
Just one or two additional remarks, and I have done with the morning bath at home, and will then take you off to the seaside.
1. Then you must consult your own feelings as to whether or not you ought to continue the bath through the livelong winter. I should say "Try to do so."
2. Let the first sponge, full of cold water, be applied to the head and shoulders and down the spine.
3. If you feel too much exhausted in the morning for a cold bath, from having been up late, raise the temperature of the cold bath several degrees.
4. Be guided by your own feelings as to the temperature of the hot and cold water. You ought to have a small bath thermometer, price about 1s, in order to regulate the temperature; from 32 to 60 degrees would be right for the cold bath, and about90 degrees for the water in the basin.
5. A cold bath may be taken with advantage when the body is heated, from whatever cause, so long as there is no exhaustion or fatigue; but never go into the water if there be the slightest feeling of chilliness, nor after a full meal.
And now for a word by the sad sea wave. A course of sea-bathing, even if it only lasts for a week or a fortnight, and if taken judiciously, is extremely invigorating. The first thing that most young girls do when they first go to the seaside is to "go wild." You will pardon me the expression, I am sure; it is meant for your good, and to warn you against that over-excitement which the very sight of the ocean hardly ever fails to induce in the young. This ought to be kept within bounds; pleasure to be obtained at the seaside, if it is to be beneficial, ought to be more of the quiet and dreamy kind. While feeling thus you are laying up a store of health and vigour which will do you excellent service when you get back to town or to your own inland home.
I do not advise any girl to begin bathing the very first day of her arrival at the seaside. Better she should spend this day loitering on the sands or among the rocks, where, if she has any taste for the beautiful, she will find a thousand and one objects to interest her. Indeed, at the seaside one cannot be too much out of doors, and as for children they may with benefit paddle about among the wavelets, or build sand castles all day long. Avoid parties and concerts while on your maritime holiday. Your pleasures ought to be of the very quietest nature possible.
Take plenty of exercise, but do not fatigue yourself, and beware of a too hot sun. Go to bed early and be up before the mists of morning have quite gathered themselves off the sea. Do not forget that the evenings are often chilly; it is well, therefore, if you mean to enjoy a walk after nightfall, to change your dress for it, putting on thicker boots, and flannels ought always to be worn, for the changes of temperature are often very trying even to the robust.
While at the seaside you ought to enjoy yourself all you can. I only want to warn you against excitement and fatigue.
Now as to actual sea-bathing. If you are really strong and hardy you may have a dip in the ocean before breakfast; in most cases, however, it is far better to wait until the day is more advanced - about three hours after the morning meal would therefore be the best time. DO not hurry down to the seaside, but walk at a moderately brisk rate, so that you may be neither very hot nor too cold. Nothing is more dangerous than going into the water either fatigued or cold.
If you can swim by all means do so; if not, there is nothing more easy than to learn; it is a very nice accomplishment even for a lady, and if you once gain confidence it is one that is easy of acquisition and impossible to forget.
I advise the use of a bathing cap in order to prevent the hair from being injured with the salt water. When you go first into the sea lave the face well, and afterwards get the whole body under water as speedily as possible.
Never stop very long in the water - three minutes will be long enough for the first day, and ten minutes will be found long enough for any young girl.
As soon as you come out rub the body instantly with a roughish towel, and finish drying with a smoother one; then dress leisurely, and if you should feel at all faint or sick lie down for a short time, it will soon pass off.
After dressing is just the time for a nice brisk walk, and it is the time for something else which you ought not to feel ashamed to carry in your pocket - I mean a light biscuit.
Great benefit while at the seaside will be got from having the usual soap bath in the morning before going down to breakfast, followed by a sponge bath of salt instead of fresh water.
Now, what is it you require in order to render this bath of mine quite a luxury, as well as an invigorator of both mind and body? Why, the soap bath is simple in the extreme. In your dressing-room you have cold soft water and a sponge, probably placed there over night, so that it is, in the morning, of the same temperature as the air; then you have a nice soft Turkish washing glove, and a piece of plain yellow or primrose soap - not scented, that were dangerous to health; then standing before a basin of hot water, the whole body is quickly lathered and rubbed thoroughly. This ought to occupy not more than say three minutes, and after this comes the cold sponge bath, which need not take more than a minute and a half. A moderately coarse towel should be used, and the skin should be thoroughly dried. Remember that the towel must not be rough enough to irritate the skin, but only to produce a pleasant glow; remember, too, that there must be no dawdling over the bath - dawdle as much as you please over the dressing, but bathe with judicious celerity; and remember, thirdly, that you must never neglect to wet the head with cold water, else disagreeable sensations may be the result.
The bath is to be taken on an empty stomach, and immediately after getting out of bed. The slight shock caused by the cold water will be succeeded by feelings very delightful indeed, feelings which I might describe if I chose but will not, as I want you to experience them.
There are sponge baths, and plunge baths, and shower baths, all of which may be taken at home, but of all forms of household bathing commend me to the one I have just tried to describe. In cold weather, I may tell you, great advantage will be found from drying and dressing in front of a fire. Having dressed and had breakfast, eaten I trust leisurely, half an hour's brisk walking will do you all the good in the world.
This walk greatly aids the effect of the bath, and tends to raise the spirits and cause everything to appear couleur de rose during the rest of the day.
I said take the bath in your dressing-room, because the air of the bed-room is generally more or less vitiated, but if the convenience of the former is not to be had, better have it in the room in which you sleep rather than not at all. The air of a bed-room, however, has no right to be impure, if people would only take my advice and sleep with a little bit at the top of the window open; the most delicate maiden can do this with impunity almost, if not quite, all the year round.
The soap bath renders those who take it regularly hardy and happy. They come in time to have the keenest relish for life-existence, the appetite is increased, and indigestion kept at bay; and if ever they do catch cold, which is unlikely, the complaint lasts but a very short time indeed, and is seldom painful or dangerous. Of course, during a cold, the bath must be foregone for a few days. You may commence the use of the soap bath at any age, or at any time of the year.
Just one or two additional remarks, and I have done with the morning bath at home, and will then take you off to the seaside.
1. Then you must consult your own feelings as to whether or not you ought to continue the bath through the livelong winter. I should say "Try to do so."
2. Let the first sponge, full of cold water, be applied to the head and shoulders and down the spine.
3. If you feel too much exhausted in the morning for a cold bath, from having been up late, raise the temperature of the cold bath several degrees.
4. Be guided by your own feelings as to the temperature of the hot and cold water. You ought to have a small bath thermometer, price about 1s, in order to regulate the temperature; from 32 to 60 degrees would be right for the cold bath, and about90 degrees for the water in the basin.
5. A cold bath may be taken with advantage when the body is heated, from whatever cause, so long as there is no exhaustion or fatigue; but never go into the water if there be the slightest feeling of chilliness, nor after a full meal.
And now for a word by the sad sea wave. A course of sea-bathing, even if it only lasts for a week or a fortnight, and if taken judiciously, is extremely invigorating. The first thing that most young girls do when they first go to the seaside is to "go wild." You will pardon me the expression, I am sure; it is meant for your good, and to warn you against that over-excitement which the very sight of the ocean hardly ever fails to induce in the young. This ought to be kept within bounds; pleasure to be obtained at the seaside, if it is to be beneficial, ought to be more of the quiet and dreamy kind. While feeling thus you are laying up a store of health and vigour which will do you excellent service when you get back to town or to your own inland home.
I do not advise any girl to begin bathing the very first day of her arrival at the seaside. Better she should spend this day loitering on the sands or among the rocks, where, if she has any taste for the beautiful, she will find a thousand and one objects to interest her. Indeed, at the seaside one cannot be too much out of doors, and as for children they may with benefit paddle about among the wavelets, or build sand castles all day long. Avoid parties and concerts while on your maritime holiday. Your pleasures ought to be of the very quietest nature possible.
Take plenty of exercise, but do not fatigue yourself, and beware of a too hot sun. Go to bed early and be up before the mists of morning have quite gathered themselves off the sea. Do not forget that the evenings are often chilly; it is well, therefore, if you mean to enjoy a walk after nightfall, to change your dress for it, putting on thicker boots, and flannels ought always to be worn, for the changes of temperature are often very trying even to the robust.
While at the seaside you ought to enjoy yourself all you can. I only want to warn you against excitement and fatigue.
Now as to actual sea-bathing. If you are really strong and hardy you may have a dip in the ocean before breakfast; in most cases, however, it is far better to wait until the day is more advanced - about three hours after the morning meal would therefore be the best time. DO not hurry down to the seaside, but walk at a moderately brisk rate, so that you may be neither very hot nor too cold. Nothing is more dangerous than going into the water either fatigued or cold.
If you can swim by all means do so; if not, there is nothing more easy than to learn; it is a very nice accomplishment even for a lady, and if you once gain confidence it is one that is easy of acquisition and impossible to forget.
I advise the use of a bathing cap in order to prevent the hair from being injured with the salt water. When you go first into the sea lave the face well, and afterwards get the whole body under water as speedily as possible.
Never stop very long in the water - three minutes will be long enough for the first day, and ten minutes will be found long enough for any young girl.
As soon as you come out rub the body instantly with a roughish towel, and finish drying with a smoother one; then dress leisurely, and if you should feel at all faint or sick lie down for a short time, it will soon pass off.
After dressing is just the time for a nice brisk walk, and it is the time for something else which you ought not to feel ashamed to carry in your pocket - I mean a light biscuit.
Great benefit while at the seaside will be got from having the usual soap bath in the morning before going down to breakfast, followed by a sponge bath of salt instead of fresh water.
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