PART III.

THE DINNER.

At what time do you dine? Dinner is the chief physiological event in the day. Therefore the answer to the question “At what time do you dine?” is a very important one, although the true reason for the answer is not often understood.

There are really but two ways of arranging the day’s meals; the one, the more rational, we may call the French way; the other, the less rational, we may call the English labourer’s way. The first arrangement is carried out by nearly every nation except ourselves. It consists in a very light breakfast, a fair meal after noon, and the chief meal in the evening.

The second arrangement consists of a fair breakfast, the chief meal at about one o’clock, and a small meal in the evening.

And then there is our own, the irrational method of feeding—a big breakfast, a scrap for lunch, and the dinner in the evening.

But if this division of meals is not physiologically correct, why do we adhere to it?

The answer to this is that we choose the least harmful of several very wrong methods. The man in the middle class in England does not apportion out for himself any definite time for meals; if he did not dine in the evening, he would never properly digest any meal. Take a busy City man, for instance. He arranges his time in such a manner that he swallows down his last teaspoonful of tea at breakfast about a quarter of a second before he runs to catch his train. If it were not that he has to keep still while in the train, he would never digest his meal at all.

And then he rushes out of his office to snatch a bit of lunch between two items of business. He may play a game of chess over his lunch, but such a gross waste of time as sitting down for five minutes after his meal is never tolerated until he becomes a martyr to dyspepsia.

But after dinner he does rest, because he has nothing else to do. His business for the day is over, and he digests his meal in peace.

But with the working-classes the case is very different. They have certain hours given to them for their meals, during which time they are not allowed to work, and for such persons it is advisable to dine in the middle of the day.

It would be of little good for us to describe the few advantages and overwhelming abuses of a sumptuous banquet, for, most fortunately for themselves, extremely few of our readers are ever likely to be present at one. Nor would it suit our purpose to describe a one-course dinner, so we will take the chief meal of a well-to-do man of the upper middle-class as the subject of our remarks.

Here is the menu:—

Tomato Soup. Turbot and Lobster Sauce. Mutton Cutlets and Tomatoes. Roast Ribs of Beef. Horse-radish. Spinach. Potatoes. Cabinet Pudding. Caviare on Toast. Coffee.

We will first criticise the dinner as a whole and then dilate separately upon each item.

In the first place the meal is much too long. Dinner should never last more than half an hour, whereas this meal will take a full hour at least.

The second point is a most important one and one which is frequently overlooked, yet it is one of the most important causes of ill-health. It is this. There are six courses in this dinner, and every one of them contains animal food. Every item in the list is a concentrated food, rich in nourishment, and readily digestible. Consequently nearly the whole of what is eaten will get into the blood, and there, being greatly in excess of what is needed, it will irritate the organs by which it must be got rid of.

One word about the drinks. The stomach of man is made to digest solids, and one of the most fertile causes of indigestion is taking excess of fluids with meals. Drinking between meals or when the stomach is empty is not such an important cause of indigestion as is drinking largely with meals, because drinking large quantities dilutes the gastric secretion, which loses its digestive power if freely diluted.

At no meal should more than half a pint of fluid be taken, and that is best taken at the end of the repast.

The pernicious habit of serving different wines with each course is one of the most harmful customs of modern dieting. If you have wine at all, have light wines only, and never change the drinks with the various courses.

Of course, the dinner we are criticising is excellently served and there is no waiting between the courses. But when people whose purses are strictly limited give dinners, they are not content with an ordinary two-course meal, but must ape the doings of their more wealthy neighbours and give elaborate dinners, which for obvious reasons are badly served.

Waiting between the courses of a meal is very injurious to the stomach. A little wait after the soup does no harm at all. Soup is more a digestive stimulant than a food, and therefore it is advisable to wait a little between the soup and the next course. But after that there should be no delay, and the meal should be finished as soon as possible.

There are thirty persons sitting down to this dinner, and we notice that they have all washed their hands. Here is the first thing that we should all do well to copy. Everybody should wash her hands before sitting down to a meal. Don’t laugh and say that everybody does do so! We know such is not the case, and it is just those persons for whom it is most necessary to wash before eating who neglect this hygienic measure.

Workers in factories, especially those who have to work with lead or other poisonous materials, should be scrupulously careful never to touch food with dirty hands. Neglect of this precaution is the commonest method by which chronic poisoning is produced.

Legislation has been doing all in its power to limit the deleterious effects of poisons upon those who are compelled to work in them. Yet it is exceedingly difficult to get factory workers to wash their hands before eating, and many firms have been severely censured when cases of chronic poisoning have occurred in their works, when the sufferers themselves were entirely to blame because they would not wash their hands.

To return to the dinner. At the table, soups are divided into two groups—thick and clear. Dietetically, the division is extremely well marked, for the actions and uses of the two are totally different.

Clear soup—that is, soup which is quite free from floating particles—is not a food and contains no nourishment. This may seem a strong statement to make and you may disbelieve it; but still it is a fact. Clear soup is a solution of the _débris_ of animal tissue. The nourishing part of animal flesh is insoluble in boiling water and therefore is not present in clear soup. The only fluid which contains nutritive animal matter after it has been boiled is milk.[2] But if it is not a food, clear soup is a powerful stimulant and is a good opening to a big meal. But it should only be taken in very small quantities, and by most persons beyond middle age it is better not taken at all!

Thick soup is a nutritious preparation owing its nourishing power entirely to the solid particles suspended in it. Like clear soup, however, it is chiefly a solution of animal _débris_—the waste products of life.

It used to be the rule to give beef-tea and other meat extractives in all illnesses, but fortunately the custom is dying out as our knowledge increases. There are many diseases—for instance, gout—which are due to excess of waste products in the blood; or, to put it in an intelligible form, they are due to substances identical with beef-tea circulating in the blood. And yet these people used to be fed on soup, when of all things in the world it is that which they should avoid.

Before we continue the dinner, we wish to say a few words about this custom of giving beef-teas, etc., to invalids. The ordinary soups, beef-teas, meat essences and suchlike, which are commonly given to the sick, are inappropriate for their purpose and are frequently exceedingly injurious. You cannot feed anybody on beef-tea. It is a fairly useful stimulant, but as a food it is worthless. But you can make a liquid food which contains a considerable part of the nourishment of meat and is, moreover, not indigestible.

Meat-juice is the fluid obtained by squeezing raw beef. If you hang up a large piece of raw meat, a reddish opalescent liquid will drop from it. This is raw meat-juice and is practically a solution of blood albumen. It is exceedingly nutritious and is very useful in many kinds of disease. It is frequently ordered nowadays by physicians. It must be made only from beef which you are perfectly certain is quite sound. There is really danger in giving this meat-juice or raw meat of any kind, and a girl must be pretty certain of her butcher before she attempts to give it to an invalid.

Another less unpleasant way of making the same or nearly the same preparation is the following. Take a pound of rump steak and shred it up with a knife. Put it into warm water and let it digest in a very cool oven for four hours. You must be certain that the oven never reaches a temperature above 160° F., for at about twenty degrees above this albumen coagulates, and instead of meat-juice you will only have beef-tea. After the preparation has been in the oven for four hours, take it out and strain it.

When you are feeding an invalid, a time in convalescence arrives when the patient wants the nourishment of meat, but cannot digest so solid a substance as beef or mutton. Then you can give her the following broth—

Take half a pound of the best rump steak, and having shredded it up finely, boil it in a pint of water for four hours, and then press the whole through a sieve. If necessary or desirable, vegetables may be added, or chicken may be used in place of beef. The great point to remember in making this is to press everything through the sieve. This forms the most nourishing of all liquids; yet it is not liquid nourishment, for the nutritive portion exists in the solid particles which float about in the liquid.

The fish course is usually a very digestible one. On the whole, boiled fish is more digestible than fried fish, and may be given to invalids earlier in convalescence. Boiled sole is the most readily digested of all fish, but with the exception of herrings, mackerel, salmon, eel, and some other fresh-water fish, all fish is good wholesome food. The fish mentioned as being indigestible must never be given to anybody whose stomach is in any way delicate or readily upset.

Excepting oysters, all shellfish are indigestible. Mussels have always had an unfair amount of abuse. It is true that they cause more deaths than any other kind of shellfish, but then they are eaten in much larger quantities. No shellfish should ever be eaten raw, for they all feed on carrion and filth of very description, and so may contain large numbers of very virulent germs.

It is well to remember that fish is meat diet. People make absurd mistakes about this, and look upon fish as part of a milk diet. Fish has essentially the same composition as butcher’s meat, but it contains more water and fewer extractives.

It is well known to everybody that the medical profession has for ages urged upon the public the dangers of excessive flesh-eating, yet has it never clearly stated why eating too much meat is so far more injurious than eating too much bread or vegetables. But the explanation is really very simple.

Meat is more readily soluble and digestible than farinaceous foods. If you fill your stomach with meat, all of it will be digested; practically the whole of it will get into the blood, and there being in excess of what is needed, it gives the various organs of the body great trouble to get rid of it.

On the other hand, if you take a big meal of cabbage, only a very small proportion of it is digestible, and so very little will get into the blood. After eating excess of vegetables or farinaceous food you will probably be sick, and there is an end of the matter.

But besides nourishment, meat contains a large quantity of extractives—substances which are waste products of vital action; which are practically animal poisons, and which enter the blood without requiring digestion, but which are useless to the animal economy, and have to be got rid of at once.

It is to extractives that meats owe their flavour, and the more tasty and succulent your dishes are, the greater is the amount of extractives that they contain.

It is in the _entrée_ that meat flavourings are carried to their highest pitch, and it is the _entrée_ which is usually the most harmful course at the dinner.

If the _entrée_ were discarded in favour of a vegetable course, it would indeed be a blessing. If you have _entrées_ at all, let them be absolutely simple, such as the one which has been chosen for our specimen dinner.

You may be surprised when we say that meat is more digestible than farinaceous food, and yet that when treating dyspepsia we avoid meat as far as possible. But the apparent contradiction is readily dispelled.

Indigestion is usually due to disease of the stomach, and failure of its power for digestion. Meat is digested practically only in the stomach; farinaceous foods are not digested in the stomach, but lower down in the alimentary canal. It is only when indigestion is due to failure of the stomach that it is benefited by the avoidance of meat. In many forms of dyspepsia a farinaceous diet gives the greatest trouble of all.

Of the joint we will say nothing at present. Horse-radish is a good aromatic digestive stimulant. It used to be used much more frequently than it is, because of its anti-scorbutic properties.

Not many years ago a whole dinner-party was poisoned by eating aconite root in mistake for horse-radish. Nor has this accident happened but once; many cases of poisoning in this way have been recorded. And it is a very terrible thing, for a little aconite root may kill a dozen persons at a time. Aconite root is the root of the blue monk’s-hood (_Aconitum Napellus_), one of our native English plants. It is rare in the wild state, but is frequently grown in gardens for the sake of its fine spikes of dark blue blossoms. How the aconite root can be mistaken for horse-radish we cannot quite see, for the poisonous root is carrot-shaped, rarely more than three inches long, almost scentless, and with a bitter “mawkish” taste. The smallest quantity of the root produces, when chewed, tingling, followed by prolonged numbness of the tongue and cheeks. All parts of the monk’s-hood are extremely poisonous, but the root is the most deadly part.

And now for a few words about vegetables, the most neglected, yet one of the most important food-stuffs.

It is impossible to over-estimate the value of the potato as an article of diet. Alone it is not a good food, but it is the ideal vegetable to have with meat.

An Irishman asked a companion to dinner, and in answer to the question as to the fare, replied, “Just an illigant pace of corned bafe and pertaters.” To which his friend replied, “My own dinner to a tay, barring the bafe.” Let us hope that he accepted the invitation, for corned beef and potatoes make a good, if rough, meal, but potatoes alone are not sufficient.

It has been questioned by many persons if the introduction of the potato has proved an advantage, for it has driven out the older vegetables, such as salsify and celeriac. But if we look upon the potato merely in the light of a usurper of the place formerly occupied by other vegetables, we must still consider it as an immense boon to mankind.

That the potato is not very easily digested we grant, and it should be avoided by the subjects of dyspepsia. But in the dietary of perfectly healthy persons, the digestibility of the food is of secondary importance to that of over-strong and rich food. For as we have over and over again said, the great fault in modern diet is not that we eat too much, but that we take our food too strong.

All vegetables, especially spinach and Brussels sprouts, have lately been shown to produce marked improvement in gouty conditions; and experimental evidence has proved that their action upon gout is a definite chemical one. That gout is often in some way connected with an excessive meat diet has long been known, but it is not even now certain what it is in meat which tends to cause gout. But that the condition is markedly benefited by a vegetable diet, there is no question. The only difficulty in applying this observation to practice—and it is a real difficulty, although enthusiasts will persist in shutting their eyes to it—is that a vegetable diet is far more difficult to digest than a meat diet, and gouty persons are frequently dyspeptic.

Sweets served after dinner should always be simple. Stewed fruit, cabinet puddings, farinaceous or milk puddings, or pancakes, etc.; but not rich plum puddings or highly flavoured concoctions of any kind. Rich sweets are worse than rich _entrées_, for besides being equally rich in extractives, they are exceedingly indigestible.

The question as to whether ices and iced water are good to take with dinner is worth a moment’s consideration.

In very small quantities iced water is the best of all fluids to take with dinner, but the quantity taken should be very small. And the same is true of ices. A very little ice after dinner helps digestion, but a large quantity seriously injures the stomach.

Coffee in small quantities is a digestive stimulant. If taken it should be drunk immediately the dinner is completed.

Having thoroughly considered the subject, we have come to the decided conclusion that by far the best dinner for those who can afford it, with very few exceptions, is one of two courses. The first course to consist of light fish _with vegetables_, or a very simple _entrée with vegetables_; and the second to consist of a joint of meat or some equivalent also _with vegetables_. This may be followed by a simple sweet or savoury.

Also, we believe that the average person does not eat too much, but that she takes too much meat, far too much extractives, and too little vegetable.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Peptones and pre-digested albumens are also soluble in boiling water; but these substances do not naturally occur in our food stuffs. Some, but very few, of the patent meat extracts, consist of peptones or altered albumens soluble in boiling water.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

GIRLS’ EMPLOYMENTS.

MOTHER’S HELP.—“_I am twenty-six, and for the last six years have occupied, at a very small salary, a situation—or rather three situations—as mother’s help. I am heartily tired of being neither one thing nor another, and wish I knew some way of qualifying myself for some less wearing and more remunerative work. I have thought of entering the Norland Institute to be trained for a children’s nurse, but I fear I am not well enough educated. Typewriting I have also considered, as that would leave me the evenings free for study. I should be willing to spend a little time and money on some sort of training._—PERPLEXED.”

Our correspondent has come to a most sensible decision, and we wish that some of our readers could profit by her experience that such positions as those of mother’s help, useful companion, etc., are “neither one thing nor another.” “Perplexed” tells us in her letter, which we have not published in its entirety, that she understands the management of children, and can make their clothes well. Under these circumstances it seems to us that she hardly needs to undergo a full course of training to become a children’s nurse. But what she lacks at present is some knowledge of the treatment a baby requires, and some general experience of infantile ailments and their cure. As “Perplexed” lives in Scotland we would suggest that she should try to obtain by payment some short course of training in a hospital of a special character. The Glasgow Maternity Hospital, 37, North Portland Street, Glasgow, offers an arrangement which might suit the case. Pupils are received for a course of sixteen weeks for £13 13s. 6d. This pays all expenses except laundry and uniform. Possessed of such experience as this, and having been in attendance on children before, “Perplexed” ought to obtain some fairly well paid situation as children’s nurse to begin with, and could then avoid the disagreeableness of having to commence life again as an under-nurse. If Edinburgh suited “Perplexed” better, the Royal Maternity Hospital, 79, Lauriston Place, might advisably be selected. Here a course of three months’ training at a cost of £11 10s. may be entered upon on the first day of February, May, August or November in each year. Pupils have the advantage of attending lectures. Training in a children’s hospital would no doubt be preferable, because the patients would be children of all ages, but “Perplexed” could hardly enter any such institution for less than three years, and the number of applicants at these favourite hospitals is always very great. Typewriting we do not advise to “Perplexed” as it seems to us that she has many practical accomplishments which are in constant request among employers. She would therefore do better as a nurse or in some other capacity in a private household.

PHOTOGRAPHY.—1. “_Do any well-known West End photographers take girls as articled pupils? About what premium do they require? I know very little about it, but I have had a camera for a year. I suppose it is a profession for girls which is not at present overcrowded.—2. Would it be wise for me to take a diploma at one of the Schools of Cookery? Would cookery or photography be the more expensive to learn, and which would pay best in the end? I like both photography and cooking, but prefer the former._—A WOULD-BE PHOTOGRAPHER.”

1. Several firms, and notably those conducted by ladies, take girls as apprentices. A premium of not less than £30 is usually asked, and sometimes no payment is given for two years. In other cases, part of the premium is returnable in salary at an earlier date. Girls are usually employed as “spotters and finishers” of the prints, and earn in this manner from 10s. to £1 a week. An ambitious clever girl ought not, however, to be content to do this kind of work always, but should try to do the retouching of negatives, a business by which from £100 to £300 a year may be earned. We have found that there is a considerable demand also for girls who can paint magic lantern slides; and altogether there are many ways by which a girl who understands photography can earn a sufficient livelihood.

2. To take a diploma at a school of cookery would not occupy so long as learning photography nor would it be so expensive. The length of the course at the principal schools varies from six to fifteen months, ten months or a year being usual. The cost ranges from nine guineas, charged at Leicester, to thirty guineas, the full cost of the course at the National Training School of Cookery in London. The Liverpool and Manchester schools—both of which are excellent—charge twelve guineas for courses of nine and eight months respectively. Cookery teacherships are pretty well paid, the salaries varying from £50 to £80 per annum, but they are not easy to obtain. As daily cooks or cooks in private households, where ladies are employed, a woman with a knowledge of cookery can always do well. But to compare photography with cookery is almost impossible, and the desirability of one occupation or the other can best be determined by a girl’s own aptitude.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

MEDICAL.

AN ANGLO-INDIAN.—It is not necessary for Englishmen to eat as much in India as they do in England, and the reason for this is very easy to explain. We eat to produce energy. That energy is of two kinds—heat and work. Four-fifths of the energy of an Englishman in England—four-fifths of what he eats—produce heat, one-fifth only produces work. The normal temperature of the body is 98.6° F. If we lived in a constant temperature of 98.6° F., it would be unnecessary for the body to produce heat at all, and so four-fifths of its energy would be saved. Therefore if man had been constructed to live in a temperature of 98.6° F., he would only require one-fifth of his ordinary diet. But even in the hottest countries the body does produce heat, because it is its nature to do so; but it has to dispose of that heat at once, because the temperature of the body in health is constant. In very hot countries the body has to keep itself cooler than the surrounding air—it has to dispose of more heat than it produces. It is therefore not difficult to understand why persons in hot countries need, and should take, considerably less food than those in England; and, conversely, the inhabitants of cold countries require a very liberal diet. Also, that Europeans in a hot country require more food than the natives, because the bodies of the latter have learnt, through many generations, not to produce so much excessive heat as the bodies of the Europeans who are “green” to the climate.

KARAMEA.—1. To cure corns, first wash your feet in hot water and soap and leave them soaking for fifteen minutes. Then take them out of the water; thoroughly dry them and paint the corn with “solvent.” You must not let the solvent touch the surrounding skin. The solvent is made by mixing together salicylic acid, twenty grains; tincture of Indian hemp, five drops; alcohol, two drams; and collodion to the ounce. Paint the corn with this preparation every evening for some days, until the corn drops off. With very hard corns the treatment may take some weeks, but we have never known it to fail, and it is absolutely safe.—2. The sensation of a hand or foot going to sleep is almost always due to pressure upon a nerve, such as occurs from sitting on a hard chair for many minutes at a time.

CURIOUS.—Yawning is a deep and prolonged inspiration (drawing air into the lungs). It occurs commonly when the person is too tired or too lazy to breathe properly. Cough is a sudden spasmodic expiration (forcing air out of the lungs) with the mouth open, following a deep inspiration. During coughing the glottis (the slit through which the air has to pass in order to enter or leave the lungs) is closed at first and then opened. Cough is the natural and only method of clearing the lungs. Sneezing is a short, sudden expiration following a deep inspiration with the mouth shut. Its object is to clear the nose from something “tickling” it. Hiccough is an irregular involuntary expiration usually due to irritation of the lungs by a stomach distended with gas.

AN INQUIRING SISTER.—Your brother is indeed unfortunate, for the condition of his face is one which is most difficult to eradicate. The disease is known as “sycosis,” and often follows the use of a razor which has been inoculated with very virulent germs. Abroad all barbers are compelled to disinfect their razors after using them, and this disease is consequently less common than it is with us. In England a careless barber shaves one man with some skin disease and very often communicates the disease to his next customer. The disease is, as we said, a very chronic one. The only treatment which ever completely cures it is to pick out every hair in the beard and moustache—not all at once, but only those which have pustules at their roots. This is not such a painful undertaking as it reads, for the hairs are loose and come out easily. The face should afterwards be covered with sulphur ointment. It is a formidable disease and needs careful and energetic treatment.

EILEEN.—The best treatment for warts is to wash the hand thoroughly with soap and hot water and leave the hand soaking for ten minutes. Then dry the hand and surround the wart with vaseline. The vaseline is to protect the healthy skin from the caustic, and must not be placed upon the wart itself. Now drop one drop of glacial acetic acid upon the wart, leave it a couple of minutes and then drop on another drop of the acid. Finally rub the wart all over with a stick of nitrate of silver (lunar caustic). This treatment may have to be repeated. Warts are usually due to irritation of the skin. They are practically the same thing as corns.

A GIRL OF TWENTY.—It is difficult to be certain what causes your baldness, but probably it is “alopœcia areata.” But if it is this, it has existed for a considerably longer time than is usual. We advise you to paint the bald spots with tincture of iodine every day until the places feel slightly sore. As soon as this occurs, leave off the treatment till the places become well again.

A SUFFOLK BUNNY.—The condition of your face is analogous to chaps on the hands. It is caused by rough winds. Always wear a veil when you go out in a cold wind. A little glycerine and rose-water, or glycerine and lime-water, or a very little cold cream will relieve the roughness.

BONNE.—The pneumonia which follows influenza is of a most fatal character, and the majority of subjects attacked never recover. In January-March, 1895, pneumonia was a very common complication of the influenza which was then exceedingly prevalent. We believe that at that time every single patient attacked with this complication died. Now, although very serious, the presence of pneumonia and influenza together is by no means hopeless. The pneumonia in these cases is not a separate disease, but is a manifestation of the influenzal poison. There are three broad types of influenza: that which chiefly affects the lungs; that which mainly attacks the digestive organs; and the type in which the nervous system bears the chief brunt of the affection. Usually, in one epidemic, one type chiefly prevails, although all may occur. In 1894-1895 the respiratory type of the decease was most prevalent; in 1895-1896 the nervous type; in 1896-1898 the digestive type was most prevalent. And, so far, this year the respiratory type is having another innings. Influenza is a most serious disease, and its death-rate is extremely high; but a very large number of complaints put down to influenza have no connection whatever with that disease. As a rule, when a person says that she has had “a slight touch of influenza,” she means either that she has had a common head-cold or else that she has given herself indigestion from trying to feed herself up as a preventive against influenza!

MORLEENA K.—You are quite right to have your rupture operated upon, for it is the only way to cure it, and to go about with a rupture untreated is one of the greatest possible physical dangers. Any surgeon is competent to perform the operation, for though it is not very easy, still he must have seen so many “radical cures of hernia” performed as to be thoroughly capable of performing the operation himself. Although in former times the operation was a very fatal one, ill-effects rarely follow nowadays, and cure usually results. But occasionally the rupture does recur. Surgery is always expensive, unfortunately; but any person who cannot afford to have an operation performed upon her by a private surgeon can obtain proper treatment at a hospital. We fully understand that there are objections to going to a hospital to be treated, but with most persons it is the only chance they possess of obtaining the benefits of surgery. We think it is our duty to remind you and others who obtain hospital relief that you must contribute towards the support of the institution, and that if you obtain treatment in a hospital which would have cost you £30 in private, you must not think that you have done your duty by putting half-a-crown into the box.

A WORKING WOMAN.—Before you marry you should ask your intended husband to insure himself against accidents. There are many clubs in every town which a working man can join, and by paying a few pence weekly obtain so much a week when he is incapacitated by illness or accident. Most working men do this, and considering how liable they are to be disabled for a time, it is only right that they should insure themselves before marrying. In hospital practice if a patient does not belong to a club, the usual reason is either that he is single or else that he has once belonged to a club, the treasurer of which bolted. Unfortunately this is a very common method of swindling, but if a man looks out for a thoroughly well-going company and pays a reasonable premium he may feel fairly sure of getting his money if he should become incapable of work. If your husband does not belong to a club, what are you to do if he breaks his arm or his leg, an accident to which he is particularly liable?

PLEASE HELP ME.—One teaspoonful of Eau de Cologne to every four ounces of water. Sponge the hands with this preparation. You must not use soap with Eau de Cologne.

PEGGIE.—Perhaps it would be better to tell you how to prevent chilblains first, before going on to describe how they can be cured. Always wash your hands in warm water, and use a good toilet soap. After washing, dry your hands well. Always wear woollen gloves throughout the winter, and, lastly, try by general hygienic measures to improve your circulation. When the chilblains first begin to show, sponge the fingers with equal parts of spirit and water, or apply a little tincture of benzoin, and wrap the hands up in cotton-wool. By these measures you may prevent the chilblains from bursting. If, in spite of all precautions, the chilblains do break, they should be treated as any other kind of open wound. Above all, they should be kept scrupulously clean, and bathed in hot solution of carbolic acid (1 in 60). They may then be thickly dusted over with powdered boracic acid and bandaged.

STUDY AND STUDIO.

J. M. ELLIS.—The address of your letter was the correct one. If you do not receive a reply, we advise you to write again, as it is always possible for secretaries to overlook letters or make mistakes. Let us know if a second appeal produces no result.

MRS. C. L. JACKSON can inform “AILSA” (July) of a blind musician who will set her words to music for moderate remuneration. Address for information, Mrs. Jackson, Lyttleton House, Lower Wick, Worcester.

N. M.—Cardiff Castle was the scene of the tedious captivity of Robert, Duke of Normandy. In 1106 he fell into the hands of his brother Henry I., with whom he had long been at strife, and he was confined in this fortress, which had recently been conquered from the Welsh. At first Robert was allowed to take exercise among the fields and woods of the neighbourhood. He attempted to make his escape on horseback, and, having been pursued and taken back, was condemned to closer durance. Some historians say that his eyes were put out by his brother’s orders; certain it is that he lingered a prisoner for twenty-eight years, and died at Cardiff Castle in 1135.

DISAPPOINTED.—The difficulty you mention is only a temporary one, and need not discourage you at all. It is only the difference in the keyboard that bewilders you at first, and practice on both instruments will set things right.

A PILGRIM IN A SUNNY LAND (Beyrout, Syria).—The lines you quote are by “George Eliot,” and may be found in her collected poems. The

“Choir invisible, Whose music is the gladness of the world,”

is the great company of heroic departed souls who have done work for the sake of mankind: their “music” is the added happiness of humanity which their efforts have secured. We think, as you suggest, that your explanations mean much the same thing. This fine poem will repay close study.

A QUEENSLAND GIRL.—What prettily painted note paper you send us from your distant home!—1. The competition you speak of is over.—2. Your writing is admirable, distinct, well formed, and most pleasant to look at and to read.

OLIVE CAMBUS.—It is not necessary in writing for the press to leave any extra space at the top of foolscap paper. It is better to leave a margin on your left hand as you write. The sheets should be fastened together in the top left-hand corner, not by a “clip,” but by a paper-fastener that goes through a hole pierced in the sheets; any stationer will sell you a box. Foolscap is, we think, preferable to sermon paper. The great matter is to have your MS. perfectly distinct and clear to read, and only to write on one side of the page.

MISCELLANEOUS.

YUM-YUM.—It is quite possible that the pain over your eye may proceed from a little congestion, if in the hollow over the ball of the eye. Perhaps your spectacles are unsuitable, and there should be a difference between the two glasses. There is often a different focus in one eye from that of the other, and the left one may be overstrained. We advise you to consult an oculist or a good optician, to test the sight of each. We are glad to give our correspondent “SEATON DEVON” the benefit of your information respecting the song, “Please have You seen my Dolly?” It is (you say) composed by F. W. Lancelott, and the words are by E. Cympson. The publisher is F. Pitman, 20, Paternoster Row, E.C.

MISERABLE.—We are never told in the Bible that “to those who do not marry He will give a rich reward.” No such thing. But during those terrible persecutions, already begun, and to continue subsequently to St. Paul’s time, women unmarried and without children were in a preferable condition to those who had them. Of course, to marry without a very special bond of affection between you and your husband, would be not only a bar to any happiness, but also very wrong; and to marry without suitable means to support and educate a family must entail much suffering, mental and physical. From what you say of your feelings, and that you only “care for him in a way,” you would act wisely in declining his offer. You say “the thought of living unloved _unmans_ me!” We hope you have no pretensions to manliness!

MARCH GIRL.—Hares are said to be specially wild in the month of March, and thence has arisen the term, “Mad as a March hare.” According to Dr. Brewer, the name “Neddy” was transferred from the little low cart for which donkeys are employed in Dublin, to the animals themselves. And the meaning of the term as used for the cart refers to the jolting which results from the lack of springs, and makes those who drive in them to nod perpetually. These, or a much similar description of cart was also termed a “Noddy.”

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[Transcriber’s note—the following changes have been made to this text.

Page 827: purtrefy to putrefy—“putrefy and die”.

Page 832: decease to disease—“disease was most prevalent”.]