The chief errors in diet which are apt to bring on chronic indigestion are: 1. Over-rich or over-nutritious diet. 2. Over-eating, from which more die than from over-drinking. 3. Eating too quickly, as one is apt to do when alone, the solvent saliva having thus no time to get properly mingled with the food. 4. The evil habit of taking "nips" before meals, by which means the blood is heated, the salivary glands rendered partially inert, the mucous membrane of the mouth rendered incapable for a time of absorption, and the gastric juices thrown out and wasted before their proper time, that is meal-time. 5. Drinking too much fluid with the meals, and thereby diluting the gastric juices and delaying digestion. 6. Want of daily or tri-weekly change of diet. 7.
Irregularity in times of eating.
_Drink_.--I do not intend discussing the question of temperance. 1. But if stimulants are taken at all, it should _never_ be on an empty stomach. 2. They ought not to be taken at all, if they can be done without. 3. What are called "nightcaps" may induce sleep, but it is by narcotic action, and the sleep is neither sound nor refreshing. The best nightcap is a warm bath and a bottle of soda water, with ten to fifteen grains of pure bicarbonate of soda in it.
Coffee is a refreshing beverage.
Cocoa is both refreshing and nourishing, but too much of it leads to biliousness.
Oatmeal. Water drunk from off a handful or two of this is excellent on the road.
Cream of tartar drink. This should be more popular than it is in summer. A pint of boiling water is poured over a dram and a half of cream of tartar, in which is the juice of a lemon and some of the rind; when cold, especially if iced, it is truly excellent in summer weather.
It cools the system, prevents constipation, and a.s.suages thirst.
Ginger-ale or ginger beer is good, but should be taken in moderation.
Tonic drinks often contain deleterious acc.u.mulative medicines, and should all be avoided.
Cold tea, if weak, flavoured with lemon-juice, and drunk without sugar, is probably the best drink of the road. But let it be good pure Indian tea.
_Baths_.--The morning cold sponge bath, especially with a handful or two of sea-salt in it, is bracing, stimulating, and tonic. No one who has once tried it for a week would ever give it up.
The Turkish bath may be taken once a week, or once a fortnight. It gets rid of a deal of the impurities of the blood, and lightens both brain and heart. Whenever one feels dull and mopish, he should indulge in the luxury of a Turkish bath.
_Fresh air_.--The more of this one has the better, whether by day or by night. Many chronic ailments will yield entirely to a course of ozone-laden fresh air, such as one gets at the seaside, or on the mountain"s brow. Have a proper and scientific plan of ventilating your bedrooms. Ventilators should be both in doors and windows, else one cannot expect perfect health and mental activity. Without air one dies speedily; in bad air he languishes and dies more slowly; in the ordinary air of rooms one exists, but he cannot be said to live; but in pure air one can be as happy and light-hearted as a lark.
_Exercise_.--This must be pleasurable, or at all events it must be interesting--mind and body must go hand in hand--if exercise is to do any good. It must not be over-fatiguing, and intervals of rest must not be forgotten. Exercise should never be taken in c.u.mbersome clothing.
"Work," I say in one of my books, "is not exercise." This may seem strange, but it is true. I tell my patients, "I do not care how much you run about all day at your business, you _must_ take the exercise I prescribe quite independently of your work." There are perhaps no more hard-working men in the world than the Scottish ploughmen--wearily plodding all day long behind their horses, in wet weather or dry; no sooner, however, has the sun "gane west the loch," and the day"s work is done, than, after supper and a good wash, those hardy lads a.s.semble in the glen, and not only for one, but often three good hours, keep up the health-giving games for which their nation is so justly celebrated.
_Cooking_.--Good cooking is essential to health. I do not care how plainly I live, but pray exercise the attribute of mercy. Let my steak or chop be tender and toothsome; my fish or vegetables not overdone, and oh! pray boil me my potatoes well, for without old _pomme de terre_ life to me would be one dreary void.
Now let us see how far the rules of health may be carried out in a caravan like the Wanderer.
First comes _early rising_. You get up almost with the lark--you are bound to, for there is a deal to be done in a caravan; what with getting breakfast, having the carriage tidied and dusted, the beds stowed away on the roof, dishes washed, stove cleaned, carpets shaken, and pantry swept and washed, eight o"clock comes before you know where you are.
And by the time your flowers are rearranged in the vases, and everything so sweet and tidy that you do not mind Royalty itself having a look inside, it will be pretty near nine o"clock, and the horses will be round, the pole shipped, the buckets slung, and all ready for a start.
But then you will think early rising the reverse of a hardship, for did you not turn in at ten o"clock? and have you not slept the sweet sleep of the just--or a gentleman gipsy?
The first thing you did when you got up was to have a bath under the tent which your servant prepared for you. Oh that delicious cool sponge bath of a lovely summer"s morning! If you do not join the birds in their song even before you have quite finished rubbing down, it is because you have no music in your soul.
But I mentioned a Turkish bath as a health accessory. Can that be had in a Wanderer caravan? Indeed it can. I have a portable one, and it does not exceed three inches in height, and when put away takes hardly as much s.p.a.ce up as a pair of boots does.
The greatest cleanliness is maintainable in a caravan where regularity exists,--cleanliness of person, and cleanliness of the house itself.
As to regularity, this is one of the things one learns to perfection on a gipsy tour extending over months. There can be no comfort without it.
Everything in its place must be your motto, and this is a habit which once learned is of the greatest service to one in more civilised life.
For the want of regularity causes much worry, and worry is one of the primary causes of illness.
_Fresh air_.--You are in it all day. Now down in the valley among the woods, or breathing the balmy odours of the pine forests; now high up on the mountain top, and anon by the bracing sea-beach. And at night your ventilators are all open, without a chance of catching cold, so no wonder your sleep is as sweet and dreamless as that of a healthy child.
As to the weather, you are hardly ever exposed. The caravan does not leak, and if you are on the _coupe_ you are protected by the verandah (_vide_ frontispiece).
_Exercise_.--This you get in abundance, and that too of the most wholesome and exhilarating kind.
_Food in the caravan_.--Perhaps you have been living too freely before, and having too many courses; all this will be altered when you take to the road. Plainly you must live, and you will soon come to prefer a plain substantial diet.
The first result of your new mode of life--and this you will not be twenty-four hours out before you feel--will be hunger. It does not matter that you had a substantial breakfast at eight o"clock, you will find your way to the cupboard at eleven, and probably for the first time in your life you will find out what a delicious t.i.tbit a morsel of bread-and-cheese is. Yes, and I would even forgive you if you washed it down with one tiny gla.s.s of mild ale, albeit beer is not the best thing on the road.
At the midday halt you will have luncheon. You can drink your tea cold on the road or warm it in the spirit stove; and when settled for the night in some quiet and peaceful meadow, your servant will speedily cook the dinner, which has been put all ready in the Rippingille stove during the midday halt.
While this is being cooked, in the privacy of the saloon you can play the fiddle or discourse sweet music from the harmonium, or if tired lie on the sofa and read.
I have said that you must live plainly in a caravan. But the word plainly is a term. You may not have French dishes nor twenty courses, but I append extracts from bills of fare of caravan cookery, to show that diet is not necessarily a mere off-put in the Wanderer.
I must, however, premise that I myself did not always bother with so good a _menu_.
To begin with, here are my cook"s general instructions:--
Always see that the stove is clean and in order. Wipe the tanks thoroughly dry, if any oil is perceptible upon them; trim the wicks, light them, turn down low, place in the proper grooves, and carefully follow instructions given with the stove. When set fairly in, regulate the light by observing the height through the sight holes. Brush out the oven, and then all is ready for a good day"s work. All this will occupy very little time, one-tenth of that generally spent in lighting coal fires and trying to escape the dust and dirt the old-fashioned open range entailed. Next rinse out the kettle, fill with fresh water from the tap, place over one of the burners. Wash your hands, and then get all ready for breakfast. Cut rashers of bacon and slices of bread sufficient for the family requirements. Bring out the eggs, b.u.t.ter, pepper, salt; then the tea-caddy, coffee, etc, with their respective pots; plates, dishes, toast-rack, fish slice, teacup or small basin, and lay on the table near the stove, so that no time may be lost running about when the cooking begins. These instructions apply to _all meals_.
First get the apparatus and material ready, and then begin to cook.
Breakfasts.
I. Toast, poached eggs, tea, coffee, or chocolate.
II. Toast, fried eggs and bacon, or mashed eggs, tea, etc.
III. Oatmeal porridge with b.u.t.ter and creamy milk, followed by a boiled new-laid egg and a rasher, with tea. N.B.--The b.u.t.ter is always the sweetest, and the milk the _creme de la creme_.
IV. Herrings, devilled melt and roe, toast, tea, etc, eggs bouilles.
V. Mock sausages, boiled eggs, and usual fixings.
VI. Finnan haddocks, poached eggs, and usual fixings. And so on _ad libitum_.
Eleven o"clock Snacks.
I. Bread or biscuit and cheese with a modic.u.m of beer.
II. Bloater-paste or anchovy-paste, or b.u.t.tered toast with cold tea.
III. Tongue and ham (potted), turkey and tongue, and fixings.