Is a Good Breakfast Necessary? Yes

1901

A good breakfast is the physical basis of a day's work. The American breakfast, regarded with so much horror on the European continent, has contributed largely to make the nation what it is today. It enabled our forefathers to do an amount of work which it appalls foreigners to contemplate.

As a rule there is something wrong with the man or with his habits if he cannot eat a good breakfast. A man who works at high tension all through the morning hours without this substantial foundation is working entirely upon his nerves. That means disordered nutrition and sooner or later bankruptcy and collapse.

If a man gets up in the morning with a bad taste and no inclination for food, it is because his system is full of waste and his circulation of obstructions. Let him make a radical change in his habits and train his digestive organs to accommodate a nourishing morning meal. — Medical Brief.

Children and Sweet Stuffs

1901

It is necessary to make some kind of stand against the physical demoralization of the rising generation by the inordinate consumption of cheap confectionery.

Mrs. Creighton, the wife of the late bishop of London, has urged again and again the necessity for checking the wholesale consumption of sweet stuff by the children of the poorer classes, and it is admitted by the doctors in poor neighborhoods that it is to the continual eating of lollipops that the wretched digestions, frequent gastric troubles and enfeebled stamina of those who are to form the future backbone of the nation are due.

What the public house is to the father, the sweet stuff shop has become to the child.


Dancing as Exercise

Dancing has lost some of its vogue, but physicians have come to its rescue and are proscribing it as a useful exercise. It is said that dyspeptic and anemic patients, both men and women, have been advised to waltz at a moderate tempo at least 30 minutes a day.

Healthy Open Air Life

1901

Modern humanity has done much to throw away the generous gift of robust health. By warm clothing, indoor fires and an overgenerous diet we have rendered ourselves comparatively independent of heat and cold.

And the direct result has been that modern skins are not as robust as were those of our ancestors. They are thinner, more delicate and less able to form an efficient protection for the body.

As originally intended, the skin is the great protecting mantle, which, properly performing its function, is able to keep the body as warm under the gray sky of December as in the sunshine of a summer afternoon.

Why is it that people in town catch cold more readily than their country cousins?

Why is it that soldiers on campaign, even though repeatedly wet through and without any change of clothes, are notoriously free from colds? Why is it that pampered people are so liable to take "a chill?"

The answer is: Country people, soldiers on campaign and all who lead an open air, natural life have healthier, stronger and more industrious skins than their more artificial fellow citizens.

Rules For Right Living

1902

For the man or woman, whether young or old, who wishes health, which means happiness, the following simple rules were gathered:

Pin them up where you will see them. But do not let that be all you do. Read them again and again, and, best of all, act upon them.

Eight hours' sleep.
Sleep on your right side.
Keep your bedroom window open all night.
Have a mat to your bedroom door.
Do not have your bedstead against the wall.
No cold water in the morning, but a bath at the temperature of the body.
Exercise before breakfast.
Eat little meat, and see that it is well cooked.
For adults, drink no milk.
Eat plenty of fat to feed the cells which destroy disease germs.
Avoid intoxicants, which destroy those cells.
Daily exercise in the open air.
Allow no pet animals in your living rooms; they are likely to carry about disease germs.
Live in the country if you can.
Watch the three D's — drinking water, damp, drains.
Take frequent and short holidays.
Limit your ambition.
Keep your temper. — New York American.

Note: This article and its advice is from 1902. Please check with your physician or neighborhood scientist before screwing up your life too much.

Noise — "You Gotta a Problem With It?"

1893

The Philosophy of Noise

Aversion to Disturbance is a Symptom of Neurotic Degeneration

A woman suffering from neuralgia stations her son to keep boys from making noise in front of the house. A boy comes by whistling — a performance in which we must recognize a natural, wholesome and boylike act, whereupon there ensues a short, sharp fight between the pair, in which one is accidentally cut. The upshot is not important; the origin of it is.

It has long been usual to accord special privileges to invalids in relieving them against noise. Formerly straw would be strewn in the street, and thousands of persons who were not sick would be inconvenienced to ease the pains of one who was. In part, this custom was one of ostentation. It could be practiced only by the influential who were exalted by making themselves a nuisance. When death ensued, a hatchment was set up in the same spirit of vainglory. All the windows in the house were closed for a term, the duration of which was fixed by custom, but which bore a relation to the estate of the deceased and the consequent degree of exaltation descending upon his heirs.

All healthy animals delight in noise. The description includes barbarous folk and children. Dogs bark (curs only sneak off), birds scream, boys shout, girls clap hands to their ears in sweet confusion, horses paw, all animate nature responds to the exhilaration of noise. The sick do not. In every form of sickness the nervous function is deranged. As we have seen above mankind has shown its appreciation of this fact by its customs. Excessive sensibility to noise is thus one symptom of neurotic degeneration. It is the mark of one broad distinction between the state of civilization and its opposite. It testifies to one part of the price which that state exacts from man on his physical side.

Within civilization itself indifference to noise is one of the distinctions of a system rudely healthful, both in body and mind. The converse of this proposition is equally true. Whenever a person displays peculiar sensitiveness to noise we may know that the case is one of an unwholesome mind in an unwholesome body. From the fact that the disturbance is essentially a neurotic one it follows that it is controllable to a great extent by the will. Much of the disturbance that is experienced from noise can be put completely aside by exercise of the will. A barking dog may keep one person awake while his healthier or wiser neighbor sleeps the sleep of the just. Under the pinging of the cable car bells a valetudinarian subsides into frenzy while his younger clerk is lapped in dreams of the equally unconscious typewriter on the next floor. The contrast here need not be one of relative strength of mind merely; one of the two minds is sick.

In such a case the willpower is impaired. It would probably be found that the complaining person is also irritable, passionate, perhaps consumed by self contemplation. In many cases of this order relief could no doubt be gained through treatment by suggestion. But in vastly the greater number the patient is competent to minister to himself. He is still capable of exerting the will, and in this exercise lies complete and permanent cure. Furthermore, the cure does not apply alone to the particular noise that may have called for it. It will be found to have influenced the mind permanently. The injurious effects attributed to noise do not proceed from without, but from within. They do not inhere in the aerial vibrations, but in the mental response made to them.

Finally it ought to be observed that the disease is one that increases by being yielded to. The noise that is first noticed as an annoyance in some moment of irritation, anxiety or other nervous disturbance can be nursed into an object of horror. Time was when folks thought sensitiveness to noise to be evidence of high strung character. They were rather proud of it and trotted it forth in public. The world knows better now. It erects hospitals for the Mrs. Wittitterlys, whom it rather admired in Nicholas Nickleby's time. It no longer holds poor Tom of Bedlam for inspired, and since it has learned how much sickness is either a fruit or a phase of ignorance it is getting a little sick of those sick folks, at least of whom it has a right to look for something better. — New York Evening Sun.