CHAPTER III.

On Water and Food.

The importance of attention to personal hygiene in the matter of what to eat, drink and avoid, may be judged by the fact that three of the greatest scourges of tropical life--cholera, dysentery, and typhoid fever--are conveyed exclusively by the agency of germs that find their way into the body along with ordinary articles of diet; and even putting aside diseases of so dramatically striking a character, bad food, careless cooking, and impure water may set up such minor troubles as dyspepsia, with all its prolonged attendant miseries of body and mind. Those who do not die from an attack of cholera or typhoid usually recover fairly completely, but he who has once suffered from a bad attack of dysentery is as truly lamed for life as if he had suffered mutilation of a limb.

Accidents will, of course, occur, whereby the most careful precautions are frustrated, but putting aside such contingencies, it is quite possible to guard oneself against either of the above diseases by proper care and attention; and those who know how to take care of themselves may carry on their duty, with but little apprehension, while encamped in the midst of a cholera epidemic, which makes it no uncommon occurrence to find in the morning several pilgrims dead of the disease within a few yards of one’s tent. On one occasion, my camp arriving after dusk, I found in the morning that my tent had actually been pitched over a new-made grave; but cholera cannot be caught by proximity to either the dead or dying, but only by the fouling of what enters the mouth, so that I was more disgusted than alarmed at the gruesome discovery; whereas I should have been decidedly uneasy for the next day or so, had I discovered that I had unwittingly swallowed either water or food that had not been rendered harmless by cooking. There is one point, moreover, about the necessary precautions, and that is that they must be carried out, or at least superintended, personally; for neither natives nor even the lower class of Europeans can be trusted to carry them out, because, not understanding the reason of them, they are too apt to scamp the business; and, as a matter of fact, neglect that would discredit a native dairyman has more than once, to the writer’s knowledge, occurred in regimental dairies, where every operation was supposed to be either conducted or superintended by European soldiers.

One of these little incidents, due to sheer laziness and direct neglect of duty, cost nearly fifty lives, for it more than decimated the wing of the corps in which it occurred. The method in which this terrible catastrophe was brought about is worthy of record, as an instance of the way in which lives are sacrificed by a lack of attention to such details.

The water supply of the station was excellent and all water used in the dairy was supposed to be drawn from a standpost. Unfortunately, there was a well on the dairy premises, and the soldiers in charge were too lazy to prevent its being used. One of the native dairymen lived in a village which was attacked with cholera, and like all Hindoos, had a special vessel for drinking water. This vessel he used, of course, at home, and also during the day, to get himself a drink from the well in the dairy. He remained himself free from disease, but the germs of cholera were carried, adhering to his lotah, or drinking cup, from the infected village well, to the dairy well, and this, in its turn, infected the milk stored in vessels which had been washed in the well water, with the terrible results already described.

The remote fault, of course, in this case lay with the authorities, who should have seen that no alternative, and more easily obtained, water supply was available; for no one who knew much about either the native, or Tommy Atkins would have any doubt of the less laborious source of water supply being used the moment the eye of authority was off them. As a matter of fact, the quality of the well water was usually excellent, and its only fault, that it was not guarded against contamination, so that not understanding the subtle mechanism of infection, both soldier and native naturally regarded the journey to the more distant standpost as a mere unreasonable infliction.

The piped water supply ought, of course, to have been brought into every room of the dairy, but “spoiling the ship for a pennorth of paint” is a very common cause of failure in attempts at sanitary reform in India.

I have given this incident at some length, because it affords a good example of the way in which lives are sacrificed by a want of attention to the details of sanitary management, and because, although it occurred in a public institution, and the fatality was on a correspondingly large scale, it is an equally good illustration of the way in which infection finds its way into private households.

Let us now proceed to the consideration of the various articles of supply, commencing with water.

As a rule, in our dependencies and settlements, water supply is of a private character, as only a few of the larger towns enjoy the advantages of public waterworks. Even where this is the case too, it is not always safe to trust entirely to its purity, as in many places the arrangements are not such as to ensure safety, and it is only in towns where the waterworks are large modern instalments, with proper filter-beds, under the constant supervision of an adequate European staff, that it is safe to forego the systematic sterilising of the water. In India, for instance, while the supply of Allahabad, Cawnpore, Lucknow, and most of the other large towns is probably a great deal above the European average, the mere fact of the supply being laid on in pipes is by no means a guarantee of purity. In Naini Thal, a considerable hill station, for example, the supply is pumped directly from a lake without filtering, close to the spot at which the drainage of a filthy native bazaar is allowed to flow into it. When living, then, in a place where there is a piped water supply, it is well to ascertain if filtration is properly carried out, and if not, to treat the water with the same suspicion as that derived from any other doubtful source.

Where water of undeniable purity is laid on, all that has to be attended to is the method of transport from the nearest standpost to the house, for it is as yet extremely exceptional for pipes to be carried right into buildings as is the practice in Europe, so that a special servant as a water-carrier is still a necessity in India, even in large towns. In this case, and indeed whatever may be the source of supply, it is of the greatest importance that nothing but metal vessels, so constructed as to be easily cleaned, should on any account be used. In all Mahomedan countries, water is conveyed in a goat or calf skin, stripped from the animal entire, with the legs tied up, and filled from the neck, which is secured with a thong for transport; and it is a most unfortunate circumstance that it has become traditional for Europeans to employ the Mahomedan _bhisti_ with his _mashak_ instead of the more cleanly Hindu kahar with his easily cleansed iron water vessel, for the Mahomedan water-skin or _mashak_ is an abomination that cannot be too strongly condemned. Few will, it is thought, deny that if a piece of half-tanned hide were found lying in water intended for domestic uses, they would at once reject it; and apart from the objectionable character of the material of the _mashak_, it must be remembered that from its construction it is absolutely impossible to clean the interior; and this must necessarily become foul in the course of a few days’ use, even if it were constructed of silver instead of half-dressed hide. Added to this, it has been ascertained, by actual experiment, that disease germs, deposited on the outside of a water-skin, are capable of growing into and working through it, and so continuously contaminating the contained water. Anyone who knows the ways of the _bhisti_ must be familiar with the careless way in which his _mashak_ is laid down on the ground anywhere that may come handy, so that it cannot fail to get frequently fouled with germs of all sorts, which, owing to the vessel being composed of organic material, find themselves at once placed on a “culture medium” as congenial to their growth as if prepared in a laboratory.

The above reasons, it is thought, should suffice to show that no leather vessel should on any account be tolerated in connection with our water supply, and it may be added that there is no difficulty whatever in substituting cleanly metal buckets for the abominable filth trap that has just been described.

While the Hindu holds the wholesome belief that contact with leather means utter defilement to water, and would very probably die at the stake rather than drink from a _mashak_; the use of the latter by the Mahomedan is purely a matter of custom, in no way connected with religious sanction, so that in hospitals too small to afford a double establishment, a Hindu water-man alone is entertained, because no Mahomedan can object on the score of religion to taking water from any cleanly vessel or from any one’s hands, so that though a bhisti can serve the Mahomedan alone, a _kahar_ can serve both castes.

For many years before leaving India the writer insisted on the use of metal buckets for carrying his household water, a pair being carried slung from the ends of a bamboo balanced on the shoulder; and it never became necessary to dismiss the Mahomedan water-carrier, as he always proved ready to adopt the change, as soon as he discovered one was in earnest in the matter, and that any infraction of the rules meant instant dismissal.

There are no more hard-working and better servants in India than the _bhistis_, who are deservedly, as a body, great favourites with the European community, ever ready to put their hand to anything. One who once served me for several years used often to act as factotum on short expeditions, cooking my food and waiting at table, and finally, as no groom was available at the last moment, marched one of my horses from one end of the Punjab to the other by himself, and brought it in in good condition. With willing and obliging men of this sort, it is naturally easy, by a little insistence, to ensure the adoption of any plan that does not actually clash with their religious beliefs--and I can assure my Anglo-Indian readers that they, too, will meet with no difficulty in introducing this important reform, provided they show clearly from the first that they mean to be obeyed. It is rarely even necessary to threaten to entertain a Hindoo _paniwalla_ in the _bhisti’s_ place, for as a race they are of the most amenable.

Putting aside public water supplies, the usual sources are wells, rivers and springs. Of these, the first are, in most parts of the world, the most common form of private water supply, and, speaking generally, they are by far the most reliable, for save in most exceptional cases, the pollution of a well always takes place from above. It is, of course, most desirable that the upper part of the well tube should be lined with impervious cement, but provided a reasonable amount of care be taken to prevent the surface of the ground near the well becoming fouled, little danger is to be apprehended from dirty surface water gaining admission to the well, for there are few better filters than a few feet of ordinary soil. The ordinary filter, employed in large waterworks, consists of nothing more than a few feet of sand, and it is well known that, when in good working order, such filters rival even the Pasteur biscuit porcelain filter in their power of excluding germs.

Now to reach the interior of a well by any other route than through its mouth, water must needs pass through a much greater thickness of soil than is ever used for the filtration of water on a large scale, and hence, provided the mouth of a well be protected, its water may be used with the greatest confidence.

At first sight, it appears that nothing should be easier than to provide the well with a water-tight cover of some sort, and draw all water by means of a pump; and wherever the water lies sufficiently near the surface, and the means of keeping a pump in repair are at hand, there can be no doubt that there can be no better plan. Very often, however, wells are so deep as to necessitate the use of a force pump, in which case, unless long connecting rods are used, which are very apt to get out of order, the pumper has to work half-way down the well, a necessity which introduces new difficulties and dangers.

In places where pumps cannot be readily repaired, it is useless to attempt the adoption of this method of raising water, and one must trust to other means of protecting the supply. The mouth of the well should be raised a foot or two above the level of the ground by building a masonry drum, wide enough for the person drawing water to stand on, and well sloped, so that slopped water runs off, and not back into the well.

It is further highly important to protect the well from drifting leaves and dust, and also from being used by strangers and passers-by. This is most easily effected by building a well-house over the mouth of the well, provided with a door, for even if this is not kept always locked, it at least serves as an intimation to outsiders that the well is not public property, which will probably be generally respected. As the well-house may be of the simplest material and construction, the cost of one need be no bar to the adoption of the plan; for the shelter will always be of small dimensions, and can be built with walls of sun-dried brick and a thatched roof, or even of grass screens throughout.

A single metal vessel and rope should be provided, which should never be removed from the well-house, and no other vessel should be permitted to be lowered into the well on any pretence; for the practice of each person carrying about his own drinking vessel and string provides the mechanism whereby cholera is carried from one place to another in the majority of outbreaks of that disease in India. If possible, only a single servant should be employed to draw water, and he should be provided with a padlock and instructed to keep the door locked. Very probably the door will often be left open, but it is something gained if it be locked for some hours in the day, as the fact of finding the door even sometimes locked will serve to show outsiders that the use of the well by them is regarded as a trespass.

Provided that the entry of leaves and other even more objectionable matters be prevented in this way, a well should require but little attention, though it may be useful to occasionally purify it, especially if it has been out of use for some time, by treatment with permanganate of potash in manner described below.

Where a well is persistently foul, it may be taken as certain that this is due to prolonged neglect and insufficient cleansing; for when, as is usually the case, no attempt is made to guard a well, so much dust and rubbish of all sorts gain admission that it requires to be emptied and thoroughly cleaned out, down to the soil in which it is excavated, at least once a year, and the expense of doing this will be found to be at least as great as the construction of a well-house of inexpensive materials. When the water of a well has been obviously offensive, the actual soil at the bottom of the well should be dug out for two or three feet, and fresh, clean river sand substituted. After the well has refilled, it should be treated once or twice with permanganate, and the water will then usually be found to be restored to good condition.

To purify a well by means of permanganate of potassium, take from 2 to 4 ounces of the chemical, according to the size of the well, the larger quantity being required only in the case of the enormous wells 10 to 12 feet wide that are occasionally met with; draw a bucketful of water and dissolve the permanganate in its contents by stirring with a stick. Lower the solution into the well, and flounce the bucket about in the water till the permanganate is thoroughly mixed. Permanganate attacks the organic matter present in the water, on which the disease germs and other micro-organisms feed, and so kills them by starvation, besides which the brown precipitate which is formed carries down with it much suspended matter. This process is of especial value in destroying the cholera microbe, and when moving about in camp, it is an excellent precaution to send on a man two days in advance to disinfect in this way the wells that will be used in each camp. If the amount of permanganate used be sufficient, the water should still retain a faint pink tinge after twenty-hours, and should have another day’s rest to settle before being again taken into use. The purer the water, the longer will the pink tinge persist, while on the other hand, the rapid disappearance of the colour is an indication of great foulness, and of the necessity for the application of a further supply of permanganate.

The water of large rivers is usually fairly reliable, provided the water be got from the full current and not from a backwater, but is often very turbid from fine sand and other mineral matter. In such cases, the water may be cleared by stirring it round with a crystal of alum; after which the suspended mineral matter will sink to the bottom in the course of an hour or so. The manner in which the alum acts is not clearly understood, as the amount dissolved is so small as to be insufficient to affect the taste of the water or to do any harm, even if it be consumed for a long period. The action of the alum, too, is far more efficient than that of any ordinary filter, completely clearing glacier-fed water turbid with particles of such extreme fineness that they will pass anything except the biscuit-porcelain, or Pasteur, filter. Alum may also be used for disinfecting wells when permanganate is not obtainable, about twice the weight of alum being used, but it is not as reliable; and in case of need, lime may be used, 40 or 50 lbs. of well-slaked lime being thrown into the well, and thoroughly mixed with the water by keeping it disturbed for some time.

The water of small pools and marshes should be avoided, and even springs should be regarded with suspicion, unless some idea can be formed as to the origin of the water. If this be from a deep source, it may of course, be safely used, but care must be taken not to mistake surface drainage that has oozed a short distance under ground for a true deep spring. Caution in this matter is especially necessary in hill country; and in doubtful cases it is well to get water analysed by an expert before adopting it as a permanent supply, for it is noteworthy that some springs of the highest reputation have been shown to be extremely impure, the sparkle of their waters being really due to their being charged with the gases of decomposition.

Not unfrequently, however, the tropical sojourner has no choice as to his water supply, and must make the best of perhaps a very bad source. Under such circumstances, all water used for drinking, or in the preparation of food, must be specially treated so as to remove or destroy any of the germs of disease which it may contain. It is desirable, though very difficult, to treat water used for bathing in the same way, but as a rule, one has to be content with taking every precaution against such water entering the mouth.

Ordinary filters, it must be clearly understood, are not only useless, but even worse; for the moist filtering agent, clogged as it is with the coarse organic and inorganic _débris_ that it has strained out of the water, is quite capable of acting as a cultivating medium for microbes, on which they can multiply so enormously that however clear the water may appear to the eye when it issues, its really dangerous impurity, so far from being diminished, has been enormously increased. There is only one form of filter that can be trusted to remove the minute organisms that are the active agents in the propagation of disease, and that is that in which the water has to pass through a piece of biscuit porcelain, the pores of which are so excessively minute that even the smallest of the bacteria are excluded. The employment of such filters on a domestic scale is, however, extremely difficult, for they naturally act so slowly that a very large appliance must be used to secure an adequate supply. Added to this, their efficiency depends on the perfection of a number of rubber connections, a material which deteriorates very rapidly in hot climates, and except by the increased rapidity of flow, it is not very easy to detect the fault. In any case, they should never be used except under constant personal care, and one way and another, they require a good deal of attention; besides which they are heavy, and quite unsuitable for camp or travelling. On the other hand, boiling for a few minutes gives a security quite sufficient for practical purposes, and requires no more formidable appliances than an ordinary kettle or saucepan, which are available everywhere. I am perfectly aware that certain spores will sometimes survive the treatment recommended, but the objection is rather academical than real, and so far as I know, in the actual practice of daily life no instance of the conveyance of disease has ever been traced to the use of boiled water, so that I have always been accustomed to recommend the adoption of this plan in preference to all others, in all cases where the water supply is not absolutely above suspicion.

One caution, however, is necessary: always personally to see that the water boils; for, apart from absolute deception, servants often really do not know when water has actually reached the boil, as most housewives know from experience of the spoiling of their “dish of tea.”

There is no need to stand over the man and watch the process however. A portable stove should be brought into the verandah, and the servant should be instructed to let one know when it is boiling, so that a moment’s inspection suffices to satisfy one of the fact, which, after all, is not a very formidable addition to the day’s work.

The water should be covered so as to protect it from dust and insects, and put aside to cool. If a _sorhai_, or porous water bottle, be used for cooling, it should be frequently washed out with strong permanganate solution and occasionally boiled, as it is difficult to keep the interior of these vessels clean, on account of their rough surface, and impossible to see whether they are so or not. It should be remembered, too, that it is as essential to have pure water on the toilet table for cleaning the teeth, as it is for drinking purposes, as the quantity of poison introduced into the system is of comparatively little importance, in the case of the virus of infective diseases, which have the power of multiplying within the system.

When travelling, it is a good plan to have an ample supply of tea brought for the early morning meal, usually taken before dressing; and to use what is left for cleansing the mouth instead of water. After standing as it thus has, the tea contains a good deal of tannin, and so forms an excellent mild astringent mouth wash, which makes it in some respects an improvement on plain water.

By far the greater proportion of the water consumed by Europeans in hot countries is, however, drunk in the form of aerated waters, and very frequently little or no care is taken in their manufacture, even when it is carried out by European firms in a large way of business. There can be no doubt that where the business is conducted on a large commercial scale, the water used should have been passed through suitable bacteria-proof filters; but in one of the few instances I have met with where this was even professed to be done, the filtering plant was obviously absurdly inadequate to filter more than a small percentage of the supply turned out by the firm. If such is the case with large and responsible European concerns, the character of the article turned out by the small native factories can easily be imagined. It would be hopeless to expect much improvement from the latter, but if consumers insisted on a guarantee that the water had been sterilised, in the case of the European factories, there can be little doubt that, before long, a safe supply would be put on the market to meet the demand.

Of late years the practice of aerated waters being manufactured by clubs and regimental institutions has enormously increased, but it must be remembered that, except as regards the avoidance of the coarser grades of filth, there is little or no advantage in this, unless the water supply of the factory be religiously guarded against pollution. As in the case of small institutions the amount of European supervision that can be given is but small, it may be doubted if much is likely to be gained by any attempts to sterilise the water either by filtration through biscuit porcelain or by boiling. The difficulty of cooling the water is an insuperable obstacle to the adoption of the latter expedient on even as large a scale as is required for a small club, for to make good aerated beverages the water must be as cool as possible. Quite recently the writer went over a station factory to try and ascertain why the “soda” was so feeble. Installed in a corner was a bath warmer capable of warming some forty or fifty gallons of water sufficiently for bathing purposes, but quite incapable of boiling so large a quantity under any circumstances, and indeed, not constructed with the view of doing so. This appliance had been installed by some previous zealous reformer, with the view of sterilising the drinks of the station, but he had never been at the pains of ascertaining if it was really capable of bringing its contents to the boiling point.

The murder was out:--the club soda had been systematically made of luke-warm fluid, tainted with the indescribable flavour of half cooked water. At the well a number of _bhistis_ were chattering with a wandering _faqir_; and if his _lotah_ had not been let down, the last time it was used, into a cholera-infected well, it was no fault of the arrangements. As the health of the entire European community depends on the purity of this well it should surely be worth while to make some attempt to secure its purity. It is quite true that the building of a well-house with a locked door might not ensure the absolute exclusion of unauthorised intruders, but an occasional surprise visit would go far to ensure a very general, if not complete, obedience to orders; especially after detection of neglect on some occasion had been followed by prompt dismissal of the responsible servant, and after the prompt destruction of any unauthorised water skins found in the well house. It is no more difficult to secure the locking up of a well, than it is to check peculations of club stores, provided that equal attention be devoted to the matter. No one expects absolute success in either task, but there can be no doubt that ill-gotten gains are successfully reduced to a minimum in most well-managed institutions; and surely our lives are as important as the curtailing of our club bills to the extent of a few shillings per mensem. Besides, to put it on a mere commercial basis, an attack of typhoid is a most expensive luxury, even apart from its dangers. After all, a doctor and two trained nurses for a month, followed up by an unostentatious funeral, cost something, and a very small proportion of the energy that is devoted by zealous honorary secretaries to thwarting the efforts of the club “bearer” to appropriate kerosine would go far to keep a well free from pollution. In places where no reliable aerated water is obtainable, there is no longer any necessity of drinking the more than doubtful fluids bottled in some dirty corner of the bazaar, as there is no longer any necessity for any complicated plant for the purpose.

At the present day, carbonic acid, compressed in steel cylinders, can be obtained at all large centres, and the attachment for filling bottles costs so little, and the method of using it is so simple that there is no difficulty whatever in making aerated waters at home, no skill whatever being required in the process.

The germs of certain diseases, such as cholera, are killed by the prolonged action of carbonic acid under pressure, and on this account, it is a good plan to keep a stock of aerated waters for a week before using them, but it must be understood that this is no protection against many other diseases, the majority of their germs being unaffected by carbonic acid.

In the matter of food supply, the main points that require attention are that it should be not only well, but also thoroughly, cooked, as only in this way can the destruction of disease germs be secured. Further, cooked food put aside for subsequent consumption should always be carefully protected from the access of insects. No one who has noticed how flies are attracted by filth of all sorts, and their omnivorous liking for food of every kind, can doubt that they must necessarily occasionally befoul food with the filth on which they have been battening but a few moments before; and in all probability both cholera and typhoid fever are not unfrequently conveyed in this way. Many articles of food, such as soups, jellies, and milk puddings, form ideal “cultivating media” for disease germs, as their composition is practically the same as the materials that are artificially prepared for the purpose in the bacteriological laboratories; so that if food of this sort be accidentally inoculated by an insect fresh from feeding on some dangerous form of filth, it may, in a few hours, become a teeming mass of microbes of the most virulent character. On this account a liberal supply of wire gauze dish covers should always be provided by the careful housekeeper in the tropics, and no cold food should ever be put aside without being covered in this way, unless it be placed in a large safe constructed of the same material, of which one or two should form a part of the furnishing of every tropical house. For camp use, receptacles formed of strong, closely-meshed, hand-made cotton netting, kept extended by means of hoops of cane, are very useful, as they collapse and occupy little or no space on the march. It is almost needless to remark that a cool airy spot should be selected for the larder, and that all safes, covers, &c., should be scrubbed out at frequent intervals with soap and water, to which a little boracic acid may advantageously be added.

After these preliminary remarks it will be preferable to consider separately the selection and treatment of the principal articles of food.

_Milk._--Owing to the fact that, apart from the question of deliberate adulteration, a certain amount of the water used for cleansing and rinsing vessels, &c., generally gains access to milk, it is always open to contamination in the same way as the water supply; and as milk forms an excellent cultivating medium for many sorts of bacteria, their multiplication to a dangerous extent is a very easy matter, so that there is probably no article of food which is so often concerned in the transmission of disease.

The conditions under which cattle are stalled and the milk collected, in the more or less imperfectly civilised countries with which we are concerned, are usually filthy to a degree; and hence it may be laid down as an universal rule that unless one’s dairy is under one’s own personal supervision milk should always be either boiled or systematically “sterilised” before using. There are a number of excellent appliances in the market for sterilising milk, and as directions for their employment always accompany them, it is unnecessary to occupy space with any instructions as to their use.

Unfortunately it is by no means certain that boiled or sterilised milk is as wholesome and digestible as the natural untreated article, and that there is a distinct, and slightly disagreeable, alteration of taste cannot be denied. It has been asserted that infants fed exclusively on sterilised milk are liable to be attacked by a form of scurvy, though it does not appear quite established that the possible sophistication of the milk in other ways has been excluded in the instances that have been reported, and it is undeniable that large numbers of infants thrive excellently on milk so treated. In any case, the risks of harm accruing to either infants or adults from the use of sterilised milk are absurdly small in comparison with those with which they are threatened by the consumption of milk, produced under conditions over which no supervision can be exercised.

Apart, moreover, from the dangers of filth and infection, the milk supplied by native cow-keepers is nearly always of poor quality owing to niggardliness and ignorance in the feeding of the animals, which are either kept stalled under foully unsanitary conditions, or, on the other hand, may be left to wander about and pick up a living as best they can. When pressed by hunger, there is no fouler feeder than a cow, and it is a dismal fact that, in the polity of an Indian village, the cattle rival the pigs in their efficiency as scavengers, so that from the mere point of nicety it is well, whenever possible, to keep one’s own milch cattle. Cattle kept for milking should always be as carefully groomed and bedded down as one’s most valued horses, and before milking the udders and the hands of the milker should be carefully washed. When it is impossible to keep cows, there is often no difficulty in keeping goats, one or two of which will easily supply sufficient milk for use with tea, in which alone the altered flavour of boiled milk becomes disagreeably perceptible. Goats are extremely hardy, and being naturally clean feeders, require far less attention than cows, while the flavour of their milk in tea is preferred by many to that of cow’s milk. They stand marching well too, and are therefore better suited for use in camp; and as their favourite food is the leaves of bushes they may be trusted to find their living to a great extent as they trot along on their way from camp to camp. Usually their milk agrees excellently with infants, but there can be little doubt that asses’ milk is superior for this purpose.

It is quite a mistake to imagine that it is a sufficient precaution to have a cow brought to the house and milked in one’s presence. Various expedients are known to all cowkeepers whereby the richest part of the milk can be reserved for butter making, and apart from the knowledge of physiological facts which enables this to be done, the native cowkeeper is capable of performing certain small feats of legerdemain by which the milk may be pretty freely diluted under the very eyes of his European customer.

Well aware of the “sahibs’” absurd fad for cleanliness, a native cowkeeper I met with utilised our weakness in that respect to perform a very clever trick. He always brought with him a bowl of clean water, with which he ostentatiously washed the udders of the cow, and while milking, on the pretext that a cool hand was necessary for the process, he occasionally dipped his really well washed hands into the bowl. Hidden in the palm, however, was a piece of sponge, which was squeezed against the udder in the action of milking, so that its contents mingled with the milk as it jetted into the can, and by frequently repeating the cooling process, he was able to dilute the milk to a very profitable extent. It is well, therefore, to occasionally test the quality of milk, and this is better done by noting the depth of cream that rises in a given long, narrow glass, than by any of the so-called lactometers, as they really only test the specific gravity of the milk, as they afford no sure index of the amount of fatty matter present, and it is on this that the main nutritive properties of milk depends.

For the use of infants on voyages, unconcentrated sterilised milk should always be used, as it is much less altered by the process than is the case with the “condensed” article, even when the latter is honestly and carefully prepared. This, however, is far from being even generally the case, as very often the milk has been skimmed before concentration, and large numbers of cases of malnutrition among infants are due to this cause, as the material lends itself easily to the perpetration of despicable frauds of this sort, which appear to be sometimes practised even by large and much advertised concerns. In the case of unconcentrated sterilised milk on the other hand, the substitution of skim milk can be detected at a glance.

_Butter._--Containing as it does a considerable proportion of unaltered milk and whey, butter is open to the same dangers as the milk from which it is prepared, and it is therefore equally risky to obtain it from uncertain sources, so that, where these are doubtful, it is better to have it made in the house.

Butter can be easily made on a small scale, by shaking cream in a wide-mouthed bottle, or by beating it with a fork, and as it tastes none the worse for being made from boiled milk, and the poorness or otherwise of the latter only affects the yield of butter, there is no need of any great caution as to the source of supply for this purpose. It should be needless to remark that all vessels used for setting the cream and for other purposes in the process should be kept scrupulously clean, and be frequently scalded, as success is impossible without minute precautions in this respect.

Buffalo milk is nearly twice as rich as the milk of even the best humped cattle, and is therefore to be preferred for the purpose of making butter. There is a silly prejudice against the use of buffalo milk among Europeans in India, but it is really far superior to that supplied by the local breeds of cattle, even when well fed and carefully kept, and the only objection that can be fairly raised to butter made from it, is its absolute whiteness, which, however, is easily modified by the addition of a little harmless colouring matter. I have often been much amused at guests remarking on the excellence of the butter they were eating, who were convinced they could detect the least taste of “that nasty buffalo butter,” which in reality they were consuming with the greatest gusto all the while. In spite of her uncouth appearance, the buffalo cow is a nicer feeder than are the Indian humped cattle, and it is well known that the flavour of milk is greatly affected by the character of the animal’s food.

Tinned butter is generally quite wholesome, but is, strictly speaking, not butter at all, but _ghi_, as the material is necessarily melted in the process of tinning.

_Cheese._--I cannot recall any instance of cheese being incriminated as a carrier of disease. This product is really the result of the action of certain special microbes on milk; and it is probable that any micro-organisms of a dangerous character that may chance to be present in the milk employed in its manufacture, are crowded out and destroyed during the vegetative changes that determine the production of cheese. Tinned cheese, though often of inferior flavour, is usually quite wholesome, and is quite good enough for made dishes. Used as cheese is by the Italian housewife as a flavouring agent rather than a food, it may be used in the concoction of a great variety of dishes having macaroni, rice, or vegetables as their basis, and is invaluable used in this way to impart a variety to the rather scanty menu available during the hotter months, when eatable meat is often almost unobtainable; and from considerations of health, it is desirable to reduce the amount of this form of nourishment.

_Meat._--The meat obtainable in hot countries is usually greatly inferior to what we are accustomed to in England, although it may be doubted if it be any worse than the average supplies of most parts of Europe.

The animals are much smaller, a cleaned carcase of mutton weighing often no more than 30 lbs. in the East; and the same remark applies, in a smaller degree, to beef. Prime meat, such as alone satisfies the English market, can only be produced by careful stall feeding, which is an expensive process in any part of the world; and it is a mistake to suppose that such meat can be produced very much more cheaply in one part of the world than in another, as its cost depends on that of grain, which in these days of rapid communication, has a tendency to equalise itself throughout the world. The meat supply, available in the local markets, is usually simply grass-fed, and none too well nourished at that, so that it is usually stringy and of poor flavour, though very cheap as compared with European prices; and people are apt to grumble at the much higher price demanded for specially grain-fed meat; but the better article is well worth the extra cost from the health point of view, so that when local enterprise fails, it is very desirable that European residents should combine to supply themselves.

In India co-operations of this sort are usual in the smaller stations, and are known as “Mutton Clubs.” To get the animals into anything like good condition, they must be grain-fed for at least four or five months, so that the club must start with at least forty to fifty sheep for each four members, and this number must be kept up by fresh purchases as soon as killing is commenced; it being usual for each member to be apportioned a quarter twice a week. A shepherd has, of course, to be entertained, and the butcher paid for slaughtering and preparing the meat, so that the cost seldom falls far short of the best English meat; but mutton thus fattened can hardly be surpassed, and it must not be forgotten that wholesome food is no less essential to health than pure water, so that the plan might with advantage be adopted in other similarly situated communities.

Neither veal nor lamb are, as a rule, very satisfactory, as the condition of the parental animals is rarely good enough to enable them to get their progeny into plump condition, and pork should certainly be avoided, except in the highly salted and smoked form of imported ham and bacon. Even in temperate climates pork is very liable to those peculiar forms of decomposition, barely perceptible to the nose or eye, which give rise to ptomaine poisoning; and the risk of accidents of this sort is obviously much greater in hot latitudes.

Poultry, like meat, in the countries with which we have to deal, nearly always requires to be fed up at home before killing, and there is as a rule no difficulty in doing so, as space is usually ample, and the birds require but little attention. It should not be forgotten that scraps from the table are invaluable for fattening poultry of all sorts--odds and ends of meat being specially valuable.

It is important that meat should be hung long enough for it to become tender before cooking, and as the changes that bring about the wholesome softening of meat are quite distinct from the operations of the bacteria that are concerned in ordinary decomposition, it is possible to do this even in the hottest weather provided that means are taken to suspend bacterial action.

“Wyvern” in his invaluable “Culinary Jottings from Madras,”[1] a book which should be possessed and carefully studied by every tropical housewife, concludes with what he terms “The last and most worthy recipe of all.” “It is not generally known that the fumes of sulphur prevent the rapid decomposition of animal matter and that tender meat can be had, in the hottest weather, by exposing the joint to the fumes of burning pastiles in an air-tight box for two or three hours after being brought from market. A joint thus treated will keep perfectly for thirty-six hours, even in Madras, and will be found deliciously tender the day after it is purchased. Take--sulphur, 2 lbs., powdered charcoal, 1¹⁄₂ oz., saltpetre, 2 oz.[2] Mix, and add just enough gum water to shape them into pastiles of conical form. A roomy tin-lined packing case, fitted with hooks to suspend the meat, and with a well-fitting door, which can be easily made air-tight by means of strips of felt nailed round the edge, is all that is required. Suspend the meat, place two or three pastiles below it, light them, close the door securely and leave well alone.” The writer has personally tested this plan, and can answer for its excellence; and also that, once the appliance has been obtained, its use involves, practically speaking, no trouble whatever, as it is just as easy to store the meat in this way as in an ordinary safe.

[1] Calcutta: Thacker, Spink and Co., 1885.

[2] These pastiles can be made up by any chemist, and used to be stocked by Waldie and Co., of Cawnpore.

Under the debilitating influences of prolonged heat the digestive powers are never too strong, so that it is taxing them too far to ask of them to digest the quasi leather that has to pass for meat in tropical weather, unless measures of this sort be adopted; and health, it must be remembered, depends largely upon good digestion.

In the countries with which we are concerned, meat should always be thoroughly cooked, no portion being left showing the red of unaltered blood, as the persistence of the red colour shows that the meat has not been raised to a temperature sufficiently high to kill internal worms. Out of the many hundreds of carcases that I have examined in India and at the Cape, I cannot recall finding even one absolutely free from the encysted parasites that develop in man into tapeworms; and it is well-known that the same is the case in Australia and most other warm countries; besides which it is very doubtful if meat is really more nutritious or digestible, when eaten “raw.” All parasites of this class however, are killed by a temperature of 140° F., and as the blood contained in the meat turns brown at this heat, no risk is run, provided it has lost its pink colour.

_Eggs_, whether consumed raw or cooked, are perfectly safe as long as they remain in good condition; and so may be relied upon greatly where supplies are of doubtful quality. It is useful to remember that they keep much longer if the shells be well smeared with oil.

_Fish._--On account of its easy digestibility, fish forms a very desirable article of food for the tropical resident, but it is almost needless to say that the greatest care is necessary to secure its being brought to the table in the freshest condition. On this account fish transported for long distances in ice in such climates should always be regarded with suspicion, for most medical men who have practised long “up country” must recall cases where disagreeable consequences have resulted from its use. I cannot say that I have always found myself able to resist the temptations of ice-carried _pomfret_ from Bombay, but would give this hint that fish so transported should never be eaten in the form of “made dishes,” but always either plainly boiled or fried; under which circumstances the first mouthful can hardly fail to make apparent the least sign of commencing decomposition. It is safer, however, in inland places to rely on river fish; and in their case the muddy flavour, which so often renders plainly cooked fish unacceptable, may often be masked by cooking them with tomatoes or other vegetables, or by boning them and serving up as a curry, only please consult “Wyvern,” or some other competent authority, before instructing your _chef_; for a curry is not mulligatawny soup with scraps of food floating in it, as so many people who have not lived in India appear to imagine, and fish curried _a l’Anglais_ is most uninviting.

_Vegetables._--A free supply of these is essential to healthy nutrition in all climates, and especially so in the Tropics, where it is desirable to restrict the amount of meat consumed. English folk might with great advantage take lessons from our neighbours across the channel, by introducing to their tables _plats_ of vegetables served up alone, and flavoured with some tasty stock, or with simply a little butter. Well cooked, and served piping hot, such dishes are most tempting and wholesome, and may most advantageously take the place of meat dishes at the mid-day meal in hot climates; besides which it is as great a mistake to mask the delicate flavour of early peas and French beans by eating them with meat, as it would be to try to appreciate the flavour of a vintage claret under like circumstances. Where vegetables are scarce, it is well to investigate the dietary of the native races amongst whom one lives, as even in long-settled colonies it is astonishing how often excellent articles of food are entirely neglected by European residents. Served up as _haricots verts_, the soy bean (_Glycine soja_) or the lablab bean (_Dolichos lablab_) cut at the same stage of maturity, as is customary with the ordinary French bean, are excellent and are specially valuable, as they come on at a time when little else is obtainable; but in spite of this, they are very rarely eaten by Europeans. Then too a great variety of succulent leaf plants form an excellent substitute for spinach, and a variety of herbs, wild or cultivated, suitable for serving up in this way, are usually known to the indigenous inhabitants of any country; the very young tops of gram (_Cicer arietinaum_), for example, are excellent eating. During the Cgaleka campaign, the troops were often for long periods quite without vegetables, and one day the writer, wandering among the kraals near the camp, found some Kaffir women busily gathering a wild plant with small succulent leaves. On discovering that they were picking it for food, a basketful was purchased from them, and when cooked, furnished an excellent dish, almost indistinguishable from genuine spinach. Arrangements were then made to supply the entire detachment once or twice a week; and the men remained throughout the year entirely free from scurvy, a disease which has nearly always given rise to a certain amount of trouble in prolonged military operations in that part of the world, and notably in the Boer concentration camps during the late war.

Many vegetables, too, are excellent when cut very young, which are scarcely eatable when mature. This is especially the case with the bhindi, one of the commonest of the few hot weather Indian vegetables; but your native gardener likes to see them “large and fine,” and will never cut them young enough unless this is insisted upon by his customer. Many vegetables such as pumpkins, onions and tomatoes, may be kept a long time if hung up in an airy place so that they do not come in contact with each other; and where the plan is not practised by those who supply the market, it is well to bear this point in mind, so as to lay by a timely supply against the “rainy day” when vegetables will be scarce. There can be little doubt that the inclusion of a certain amount of uncooked vegetable food in the dietary is always desirable, but salads are too often a dangerous luxury, owing to the very obvious danger from the fertilisers that may have been used in their cultivation, and on this account it is better to avoid them, unless one is absolutely certain as to the conditions under which they are grown; the more as an adequate supply of vegetable acids and salts can usually be taken in the form of fruit. Cucumbers and tomatoes, which can be peeled, need not of course be included in this general law against leaf salads, but tomatoes should always be peeled, as the skin is extremely indigestible, and is a frequent cause of diarrhœa. By dipping it for an instant in boiling water, the skin may be removed with the greatest ease without crushing the tomato.

_Fruit._--The remarks that have been made as to the avoidance of raw vegetables that cannot be peeled apply necessarily to fruit, and those in which this is impossible should always be cooked. Provided the fruit be sound--neither over nor under ripe--a certain amount may always be taken by most persons with advantage, but during hot weather, when the digestive organs are feeble and irritable, it is well to avoid fruit such as apples, which are naturally rather hard of digestion, even when in the best condition. For the same reason, the harder portion of a melon near the skin should be avoided, as hard melons, like any other indigestible matter, may cause looseness; but it is a mistake to imagine that they can cause cholera, a superstition which leads many people to deny themselves the indulgence in this very wholesome and delicious fruit. The origin of this fallacy is no doubt to be found in the fact that cholera is usually at its worst during the melon season, but there is no causal connection between these merely coincident facts.

_Bread._--When manufactured by the unsuperintended native, the conditions under which this almost indispensable article of food is prepared are too often unspeakably nasty; but a good deal more might be done to ameliorate this than is usually attempted, by the occasional unofficial superintendence of customers, and by the boycotting of such bakers as refuse to maintain a decent standard of cleanliness. It is quite possible that the result of such a visit may lead the enquirer to “cry off” bazaar-made bread for the rest of his life, for it is an absolute fact that a surprise visit of this sort once revealed the fact that several lepers were employed in kneading the European bread supply; but it is surely undesirable that such enormities should be perpetrated unchecked, and there can be no doubt that at least some improvement might be secured if people would but interest themselves in the matter. When good bread cannot be obtained, it should be remembered that it is quite possible for it to be made at home with baking powder, by the use of which the trouble and uncertainty involved in the use of yeast may be avoided.

Investigations conducted under the Food and Drugs Act have, however, shown that the acid ingredient of many baking powders is alum, which is injurious, if taken for any time in so large a quantity as is required to raise bread, so that perhaps it is safer to use cream of tartar and bicarbonate of soda, mixed separately with the flour in the proportion of 16 by weight of the former to 7 of the latter; a bare teaspoonful of the tartar, to an eggspoon of soda, for each nine tablespoons of flour, is the housewife’s way of getting a sufficiently near approach to chemical accuracy.

_Other foodstuffs._--Most Oriental nations depend largely for their supply of nitrogenous or proteid food on pulses of various sorts, and, weight for weight, many of these are far more nutritious even than meat. No doubt religious and economical considerations have had much to say in the development of this preference, but, on the other hand, the minute regulations to be found in many religious codes are very often based on really sound sanitary notions that have grown up as the result of traditional experience, and it is probable that the repugnance of the Hindu for meat food, though doubtless carried too far, is based on something more than a mere whim of ritual, and that the introduction of pulses into our dietary as a partial substitute for meat would be advantageous, at any rate during the great heats. At such seasons, the kidneys have all they can do to clear off the waste materials that naturally result from the work of the body, and as meat always contains a large amount of these same waste materials that have originated in the work of the animal that furnished the meat, it is obvious that its extensive use must throw an additional strain on already over-taxed organs. Caution in this matter is, of course, doubly necessary in persons who suffer from either gouty or rheumatic tendencies. The two most palatable among the commoner pulses are lentils (_Lens esculenta_) and thur dal. (_Cajanus Indicus_), the latter of which often finds its way to Anglo-Indian tables, but might be more extensively eaten with advantage. All pulses require very thorough cooking, and should be reduced to an absolute pulp by the process; for under other circumstances, they are apt to prove extremely indigestible, whereas when properly treated they are absorbed with the greatest facility.

Rice should be so cooked that the grains, though thoroughly softened, lie quite separate, but it is seldom or never met with cooked to perfection out of India, and by no means always there. The stodgy, sticky mass turned out by the ordinary English cook, or French _chef_, obstinately resists admixture with the gastric juice, and instead of being the lightest, is converted into a very heavy article of food.

The secret, I understand, consists in putting the well-washed rice into boiling water to which a crystal of alum has been added, and completing the cooking in this. The alum water is then washed off with several changes of cold water, the rice drained, and finally warmed up over a very gentle fire.

_Tinned provisions._--A good many familiar home luxuries can only reach our distant possessions in the form of tinned stores, but there is a tendency to rely too much on them. At their very best they cannot approach well-cooked fresh food in wholesomeness and palatability; and frugality in their employment may be always regarded as one of the distinguishing marks of a good housekeeper, for, speaking generally, the less tins are used the better.

The various classes of food, however, vary greatly in the extent of deterioration produced by the process of tinning. Most vegetables and fruits preserve well in this way, and at any rate I cannot recall any instance of their having been proved to do harm. Meat and fish that have been highly smoked or salted, as well as fish preserved in oil, also appear fairly safe; but tinned fresh meat, and fish of all sorts are luxuries that should be avoided by prudent persons, unless driven to their consumption by scarcity. Tinned soups, containing as they usually do a considerable amount of salt, appear generally safe; and are better in the case of emergencies than the so-called meat extracts, which at best merely act as stimulants. Despite all that specious advertisements and uninformed testimonials may blazon forth to the contrary, it is an impossible feat to pack a cow in a cup, and, though there is a considerable concentration of undesirable excrementitious matter, the actual nutritive value of these preparations is less than that of an equal bulk of the meat from which they are produced.[3] They, of course, have their uses, but must not be depended upon for nourishment in prolonged cases, where they are in every way inferior to properly made beef tea. In ordinary cookery their use is quite indefensible, on account of the strain thrown upon the excretory organs in the elimination of the excrementitious matters of which they are so largely composed.

[3] _Vide_ “Patent Foods and Patent Medicines,” by Robert Hutchison, M.D. (John Bale, Sons, and Danielsson, price 1s.). Although written mainly for the medical profession, this very able little pamphlet might be widely read by the too easily gullible general public with great advantage. The writer shows that some of the expensive “meat juices” are nothing more than diluted white of egg, and that even when genuine, their nutritive value is no higher than the fraudulently substituted egg albumen. Dr. Hutchison’s recipe for “meat” juice is not only amusing, but is well worthy of reproduction for its practical value, as it may save people from wasting many of the half crowns which they now contribute to enable the manufacturers of puffed rubbish to make the hoardings and country-side hideous with their advertisements.

“You can manufacture ‘meat juice’ yourself at a very low cost. Here is a bottle of it which I made this morning. Take the white of egg, add an equal quantity of water, and strain through muslin, then flavour the mixture with any quantity of Liebig’s extract dissolved in a little warm water which you think suitable. By that means you get a preparation extremely rich in coagulable albumen which you can produce at one penny per ounce; and it is one of which the patient can swallow a pailful, if he can get it down, without it doing him any harm. So I see no necessity to buy any of the juices in the market so long as hens exist. That which you make in this way is as good as what you buy, for egg albumen is as nutritious as meat albumen, and it is vastly inferior to it in price.”

_The Question of Alcohol_ does not, I think, need any special treatment here, as I doubt if its bearings are in any way altered by a change of latitude. Equally in the tropics and on polar expeditions, the majority of persons are, to say the least of it, none the worse for total abstinence; but excess is neither more nor less fatal in the one than in the other locality, and you will everywhere find a few to whom alcohol in strict moderation is useful. One would hesitate to say that this minority would be actually harmed by abstinence, but I am, on the other hand, equally sceptical as to the harmfulness of strict moderation; for, despite the very strong evidence of insurance statistics as to the superior longevity of total abstainers, it must be remembered that the so-called moderate drinkers must necessarily include a considerable number of those who would define moderation as the avoidance of getting drunk, and that the teetotaller is, _ipso facto_, usually one who is inclined to take more than usual care of his health.

_Cooking and kitchen management._--In the first place, the rule may be generally laid down that it is a false economy to be niggardly in the matter of the cook’s wages. The desirability of good cooking is far from being a mere matter of the gratification of the tastes, but is undoubtedly also a matter of the first hygienic importance. Added to this, a skilful operator can turn a wholesome and appetising dish out of comparatively inferior materials, while a bad one will turn the best into indigestible nastiness; and it will be generally found that those who economise on this detail of expenditure, pay for it over and over again by an excessive expenditure on ready cooked, and tinned foods.

A second point of at least equal importance is the insistence of cleanliness in the kitchen, and in all the operations of cookery, but to secure this adequate appliances must be supplied; for it is useless to expect either good cookery or decent cleanliness without an adequate outfit of “pots and pans,” and proper appliances for cleaning them. At the same time it is a mistake to suppose that the utensils in use among English people will serve equally well in other hands, so that it is generally better to purchase locally what is needed. The heavy English iron saucepan is, _e.g._, quite unsuited for use on charcoal fires, and an Indian generally lacks the strength of wrist to manipulate it with its clumsy and ill-contrived handle. Speaking generally, aluminium cooking vessels will be found most suitable for charcoal or wood fires, but they should be, if possible, fashioned in the forms to which the local cook is accustomed. Their great advantages are that they lend themselves well to cleansing with sand or ashes, which comes natural to races to whom soap is an unaccustomed luxury; while, unlike copper utensils, they do not require periodical tinning, and so are free from the risk of causing metallic poisoning. Most English housekeepers will probably admit that, even with a home establishment, a certain amount of superintendence of affairs below-stairs can hardly be dispensed with; and if this be so, how very much more must such scrutiny be necessary in places where the workers belong to races to whom cleanliness in such matters is an exotic curiosity. Too often, however, people are apt to let these matters drift, and try to comfort themselves with the reflection that the heart need not imagine what the eye has not seen, but those who do so expose themselves to the certainty of consuming unspeakable nastiness.

I remember well how our mess committee decided that each week a couple of officers in turn should inspect the officers’ kitchen. Being the first on the roster, the senior major and myself proceeded to make our first inspection.

As we were expected, a very salutary, and probably much needed, clean up had been effected, and we found little to criticise till we turned to go away; when making for the door, the kindly major, who could never resist the sight of a child, espied sitting behind the door the brown but cherubic form of the butler’s little boy, dressed in the national costume for children of his age of a piece of string. So he strolled towards the child with the intention of gratifying his little friend with some coppers to purchase sweets, when the urchin respectfully sprang to his feet and revealed the fact that the stool on which he was sitting was a huge round of spiced beef, which had figured on the sideboard at breakfast, and was meant to reappear at lunch. Now we all know that our food must necessarily be more or less handled, but, on the whole, most of us would prefer it not to be sat upon; and our visit resulted in the provision of a proper safe for cold provisions, which, as a matter of fact, was wanting.

This is hardly the place for any detailed consideration of culinary matters, but I would commend to the careful consideration of every tropical housekeeper “Wyvern’s” excellent article on “Our Kitchens in India,” in his book already quoted. There is only one point on which the writer would be disposed to disagree with his authority, and that is as to his recommendation of coal and English kitchen ranges; for whatever may be the case in Madras, this would, for many reasons, be in most places impracticable. Charcoal is a fuel which, no doubt, requires a great deal of attention, but native cooks are quite accustomed to this, and, trouble apart, its cleanliness and freedom from smoke makes it an ideal fuel for cooking, and the antiseptic properties of the charcoal dust in the kitchen are not to be despised.