We ourselves may be over fastidious, but we think the following are among some of the drawbacks to the general run of Turkish bathing places. They are usually in out of the way places, so that one is not always able to find the time to get there when he wants to. The weekly expenditure incurred by taking a course of baths would certainly be a consideration with many; and on the other hand, there is a lack of privacy which renders such establishments distasteful as a rule. But the benefits that accrue from a course of Turkish baths, depend in a great measure upon the regularity with which they are taken. And it is this regularity which is often so difficult to keep up. The Sanatorium is at a distance. Something intervenes to prevent the intended visit,—business—a call from home in another direction—bad weather, or any one of fifty other things. And so a visit comes to be omitted, or may be two, there is accordingly a hole in the hygienic ballad, a step or two wanting in the ladder that would have led upwards to health.
It is some two or three years now since we first came to realise the fact, that one might enjoy the luxury and reap the benefits of a Turkish bath, without going a step beyond the confines of the bedroom and dressing-room. We had received by the railway carrier a box.
A box! Whatever could it be, we wondered. It was not the season for sending anything particular from the country. Christmas was a long way ahead, and grouse shooting not begun. We undid the outer covering and exposed it to view. It was shaped liked a spirit-case, but it could not be that. “That box may contain,” we mused, as we gazed on it, “untold luxury in the shape of tea, or a new patent photographic apparatus, or a magic lantern, or an English concertina, or—yes—or—or—or a land torpedo sent by a Fenian, that will explode when we lift the lid, blow the roof off the house, and send us sailing away skywards, accompanied by the furniture and things.”
We clapped a cautious ear to the lid and listened. There was no suspicious ticking audible within, so we summoned up courage and—opened the box, and lo! and behold, Allen’s portable Turkish bath.
Since then we have visited public baths but seldom. We are content, for the portable bath as we use it, serves every useful purpose.
As the Messrs Allen have lent the blocks to embellish this chapter, it will be nothing more than courteous to let them describe it in their own way.
Referring to (Plate One) they say:—
“This illustrates our Apparatus as used under the chair, for giving a hot-air bath only, or hot-air and vapour combined, also for either a Medicated or Mercurial bath.
“At the back of the top rail of chair is fixed a socket, with a set screw, a square rod slides up and down this socket, and a folding ring fits into the top of the rod.
“By this arrangement the hoop for keeping the cloak extended, can be raised or lowered to be either level with the shoulders leaving the head exposed, or, if preferred, raised sufficient to cover the head.