May a plain woman reach her hand for these gifts of pleasing? Surely. They were meant to be nature’s compensation for the lack of chiseled features and ruffled tresses. To reach this subtile refinement requires such preparation as the virgins underwent for the court of Ahasuerus: “Six months with oil of myrrh, and six months with sweet odors”—if not in kind, yet in care.
The secret of lively spirits, even temper, and magnetic presence can never be attained in the world without a perfect circulation of the blood. It may be out of season to say that people often keep themselves too cold; but lay the hint away till next October, when the weather changes, and mark the facts. Our seasons are two thirds cold or chilly; our habits are sedentary, which tends to reduce the force of the system; as a people we are not of excitable temperament; and yet stout men and hearty doctors, who go rushing through their business all day, complain because women sit in overheated rooms, and can not endure draughts in the halls. There is but one answer to this: Nature is her own guide, and it is one of her laws that no creature can be uncomfortable in any way without losing by it. If the tone of the system is so low that a woman feels chilly in a room at seventy degrees, put the heat at once up to eighty, or higher, till she feels luxuriously warm. Chilliness is a symptom to be most dreaded. When the blood forsakes the skin, it clogs the heart, the internal organs, and lays the train for those diseases of the time—neuralgia, paralysis, rheumatism, and congestion. In fact, every person who suffers from one of these stupid chills is in a state of incipient congestion. How hateful is the miserable economy which stints fires in the raw days of May and September, because the calendar of household routine decrees that it is not the season for stoves and grates! Not less irritating is it to sit with a circle half shivering in a large parlor, because the full-blooded, active master of the house has decided that it is nonsense to turn the heat on. The slow tortures such unfeeling people inflict on their innocent victims will be witnesses against them some day, to their great surprise.
Even in summer many delicate persons find the skin always cold. Those who are so susceptible should never be without protection. The most convenient is a sheet of tissue paper quilted in marcelline silk, and worn between the shoulders, the most sensitive point of the whole body for feeling cold. The comfort of this slight device can hardly be imagined. Paper is a non-conductor of heat, but porous enough to admit air, so that it never leaves the dampness of rubber or oil-silk protectors. Even in winter the warmth of these slender linings exceeds that of a sheet of wadding. In the change of the year, when it is not cold enough for flannel, and one can not be comfortable without some extra clothing, this is just what is wanted. A sheet of quilted paper should be worn for the back, and one for the chest, the arms cased in the legs cut from old silk or thread stockings, which cling to the flesh, and keep it from the air better than any other article. Thus equipped, a delicate woman may face the subtle chills of spring and autumn without a shiver. Added warmth is not necessary about the trunk of the body till extreme cold weather. Clothes fit closely there, and the vital centres always generate most heat, so that only the extremities and the upper part of the chest need protection.
The daily bath needs to be administered with some care. The value of hot bathing is hardly understood. In congested circulation nothing is so effective as a ten minutes’ bath at eighty-five degrees, the water covering the body entirely, followed by a cold sponge-bath, quickly given, and immediate drying. Bath-towels are not half large enough as commonly made. They should be small sheets in size, like the real Turkish bath-towels used by the women of Constantinople, which envelop the body, and dry it at once. A bath should never chill one, and the feelings may be safely trusted as guides in the matter. To a constitution strong enough to meet it, even though somewhat depressed at the time, nothing is so inviting as the stimulus of the cold bath, the instant’s chill followed by the rush of warm blood all over the body. For weak systems an invigorant is found, so simple and effective that the wonder is why it was not used long ago. When the season or circumstances forbid a stay on the sea-coast, a substitute nearly if not quite as strengthening is found in an ammonia bath. A gill of liquid ammonia in a pail of water makes an invigorating solution, whose delightful effects can only be compared to a plunge in the surf. Weak persons will find this a luxury and a tonic beyond compare. It cleanses the skin, and stimulates it wonderfully. After such a bath the flesh feels firm and cool like marble. More than this, the ammonia purifies the body from all odor of perspiration. Those in whom the secretion is unpleasant will find relief by using a spoonful of the tincture in a basin of water, and washing the armpits well with it every morning. The feet may be rid of odor in the same way.
But what shall destroy that foe to sentiment, that bane of all beauty, an offensive breath? I can not imagine a woman could fall in love with Hyperion if he had this drawback. The suggestion of unrefinement and of physical disorder it gives would weigh against all the moral and intellectual worth which might lie behind it. The antidote, happily, is as simple as the evil is prevailing. With attention to the health, and brushing the teeth at least night and morning, all besides that is needed to secure a sweet breath is to dissolve a bit of licorice the size of a cent in the mouth after using the tooth-brush. This will even counteract the effects of indigestion, and does not convey the unpleasant suggestion of cachous and spice, that they are used to hide an offense. Licorice has no smell, but it sweetens the mouth and stomach. A stick of it should be chipped for use, and kept in a box on the toilette.
A tincture which restores soundness to the gums is one ounce of coarsely powdered Peruvian bark steeped in half a pint of brandy for a fortnight. Gargle the mouth night and morning with a teaspoonful of this tincture, diluted with an equal quantity of rose-water.
For decaying teeth make a balsam of two scruples of myrrh in fine powder, a scruple of juniper gum, and ten grains of rock alum, mixed in honey, and apply often.
It is useful also to chew a bit of orris-root, which Browning says Florentine ladies love to use in mass-time; or to wash the mouth with the tincture of myrrh, or take a bit of myrrh the size of a hazel-nut at night, or a piece of burned alum.
A very agreeable dentifrice is made from an ounce of myrrh in fine powder and a little powdered green sage, mixed with two spoonfuls of white honey. The teeth should be washed with it every night and morning.
To clean the teeth, rub them with the ashes of burned bread. It must be thoroughly burned, not charred.