Chapter III: Physiological Effects of the Poison Habit (1)

“The Stimulant Vice is the principal cause of human
degeneration.”—_Haller._

Science tells us that there is a general progressive tendency in nature. According to the opinion of some modern biologists, all plants and animals have been developed from lower and less perfect organisms, and still continue their upward progress. We may reject that view, or accept it with considerable modifications; but one thing remains certain: Nature does not go backward of her own accord. Wherever the harmony of creation has not been wilfully disturbed the trees are as tall as of yore, the fruits as sweet and the flowers as fragrant. The eagle soars as high as ever, the song-thrush has not forgotten her anthems, nor the swallow her swift flight, the ostrich still scorneth the horse and his rider, it still requires a Samson to rend a young lion. How, then, can it be explained that the noblest work of Nature makes a sad exception to that rule? How is it that man alone is sinking in misery and disease, growing weaklier and sicklier from century to century, from generation to generation? War has not dealt us those wounds, famine and pestilence can not explain our “ailments and pains, in form, variety and degree beyond description.” The influence of all transient causes of evil is counteracted by the healing agencies of Nature. See the children of the wilderness, how soon they recover from hurts and wounds, how completely from the effects of protracted starvation, their off-spring as sound as their ancestors in Eden. No, the cause of our degeneracy must be a permanently active cause, and with the assurance of a clear and perfect conviction we can say: That restless enemy of human health and happiness is the poison vice.

Without the redeeming influence of nature, the balm of sleep and the regenesis[1] of every new birth, alcohol alone would have effected the destruction of the human race. During the gradual development of the vice the adaptive faculties of the human system have somewhat modified its influence, but its real significance reveals itself when its flood-gates are suddenly opened upon an _unprepared_ race. In Siberia, in Polynesia, and among the aborigines of our own continent, the alcohol plague has raged with the destructiveness of the black death;[2] wigwams, villages, nay, entire districts have been depopulated in the course of a single generation. Among the Caucasian[3] nations, where the vice has gradually progressed from half-fermented must to brandy, its baneful effects are less sudden, but not less certain. From age to age the form created in the image of God has decayed, has shrunk like a building collapsing under the progress of a devouring fire. Wherever intemperance has increased, manhood and strength have decreased. The Anacreons[4] of antiquity indulged in wine only at occasional festivals. The peasants of the Middle Ages were generally too poor to use intoxicating drinks of any kind. But by and by wages improved. Strong ale and brandy were added to the home-brewed beverages of the working classes. Habitual stimulation, once the ruin of the idle aristocrat, became the curse of the masses. The _poison marasmus_[5] became a pandemic[6] plague. The yeomen of ancient England would not recognize their gin drinking descendants; a Norman Knight could have crushed a Stockholm dandy with a single grip of his fist. Challenge the apostles of lager beer, take them to Nuremberg, to the armory of the old City Hall, let them pick their champion from the ranks of the bloated and sickly looking citizens, defy them to find a single man able to wield the weapons that were toys in the hands of the old burghers. Or the advocates of “good, cheap, country wine”—take them to Spain and let them see what the best wine has done for the manliest race on earth. The inhabitants of Castile, of Aragon, Valencia, Barcelona and Leon are the descendants of the old Visigoths,[7] a race of rude warriors who overpowered the disciplined legions of Rome as easily as the Romans would have quelled a rabble of African rebels. Gibbon describes their first encounter with the Roman armies, how the imperial general invited the Gothic chieftains to a banquet, where he intended to assassinate their guards and attack their camps during the confusion, and how the Goths were saved by the intrepidity of their leaders: “At these words, Fritigern[8] and his companions drew their swords, opened their passage through the unresisting crowd, and, mounting their horses, hastily vanished from the eyes of the astonished Romans. The generals of the Goths were saluted by the fierce and joyful acclamations of the camp; war was instantly resolved, the banners of the nation were displayed according to the custom of their ancestors, and the air resounded with the march signals of the barbarian trumpet.” No painter’s magic could more vividly evoke the forms of that giant race, their chieftains making their way through a crowd of shrinking cowards, the tumult of the camp, and the iron-fisted warriors, receiving their leaders with exultant shouts! And those men were the ancestors of the modern Spaniards—lions shrunk into cats, eagles into mousing hawks! It is idle sophistry to ascribe that result to climatic influences. In a warmer climate than Spain the abstemious Arabs, the Afghans, and the Moors have preserved the vigor of their earliest ancestors. The soil that now produces _lazzaroni_[9] and _musici_[10] was once trod by the conquerors of three continents. In the snow-bound wigwams of the North American Indians a cold climate has not prevented the ravages of the alcohol plague. Poison has filled more graves than the sword, more than famine, and the plague and all the hostile powers of Nature taken together. The poison vice has shortened our average longevity by twenty years,[D] has turned athletes into cripples, giants into dwarfs.

Yet that result does not prove the vindictiveness of Nature; but her patience, the infinite patience that has prevented our utter self-destruction by mitigating the consequences of our suicidal follies. At night, while the drunkard sleeps his torpor sleep, the hand of our All-mother cools his fevered brow, the subtle alchemy of the organism allays the effects of the poison while the system performs at least a portion of its vital functions; in every child the influence of ancestral sins is modified by the tendency of redeeming instincts. If it were not for the restless activity of those remedial influences, fire-water alone would have caused more havoc than the deluge. From a pessimistic point of view the study of the physical effects of the poison vice might almost justify the conjecture of the biologist Hoffmann. “Nature,” says he, “has set limits to the over increase of every species of animals. Insects prey upon smaller insects, minnows upon midges, trouts upon minnows, pikes upon trouts, the fish-otter upon pikes, and man himself upon the fish-otter. Man himself has no earthly rival, but Providence (_die Vorsehung_) has met that difficulty by making him a self-destructive animal!”

If that shocking idea were not at variance with other facts, one might, indeed, admire the ingenious adaptation of means to ends, for if it were the intention of God to limit our prosperity and afflict us with every possible evil short of absolute annihilation, he could certainly not have chosen a more efficient agent than alcohol.

Alcohol, the rectified product of the vinous fermentation (_i. e._, decomposition) of various saccharine fluids, and included by chemists among the narcotic poisons, exercises a metamorphosic effect on every organ of the human body; and no fact in physiology is more incontestably established than that all its _appreciable_ effects are deleterious ones. The advocates of alcohol base their claims upon vague theories. The opponents of alcohol base their claims upon obvious facts. It has been asserted that alcohol protects the system against cold, but the exponents of that theory have failed to show how the constituent elements of alcohol can take the place of the natural heat producers, the non-nitrogenous foods; they have also failed to explain a fact established by the unanimous testimony of polar travelers, namely, that a low temperature can be longer and more easily endured by total abstainers than by those who indulge in _any kind_ of alcoholic drinks.

Alcohol has been called a “negative food,” because it retards the progress of the organic changes; but it has been demonstrated that that retardation is in every case an abnormal and morbid process, and that its results can not benefit the system in any appreciable way, while its deleterious effects are seen in the fatty degeneration of the tissues, the impoverished condition of the blood, and many other symptoms characterizing the influence of insufficient nutrition. Alcohol has been called a positive food, because, forsooth, it is derived (by a process of decomposition) from grain, fruits and other nutritive substances. We might as well call mildew a nutritive substance because it is formed by the decay of wholesome food. “There is no more evidence,” says Dr. Parker, “of alcohol being in any way utilized in the body, than there is in regard to ether or chloroform. If alcohol is to be still designated as _food_, we must extend the meaning of that term so as to make it comprehend not only chloroform, but all medicines and poisons—in fact, everything which can be swallowed and absorbed, however foreign it may be to the normal condition of the body, and however injurious to its functions. On the other hand, from no definition that can be framed of a _poison_, which should include those more powerful anæsthetic agents, whose poisonous character has been unfortunately too clearly manifested in a great number of instances, can alcohol be fairly shut out.”

The antiseptic influence of alcohol was long supposed to constitute a safeguard against malarial diseases, but it has been found that the prophylactic[11] effect of distilled liquors is confined to the period of actual stimulation (the alcohol fever), and that in the long run abstinence is from eight to ten times more prophylactic than dram drinking.

Alcohol has been mistaken for an invigorating tonic; but we have seen that the supposed process of invigoration is a process of stimulation, or rather of irritation, and that we might as well try to “invigorate” a weary traveler by drenching him with _aqua fortis_.[12]

On the other hand, it has been proved by ocular demonstration that alcoholic liquids, applied to the living tissue, induce redness and inflammation, and cover the mucous lining of the stomach with ulcerous patches; that they change the structure of the liver, stud it with tubercles and disqualify it for its proper functions, though by obstructing its vascular ducts they often swell it to twice, and sometimes to five times, its natural size. The weight of a healthy liver varies from five to eight pounds, and Dr. Youmans mentions the post mortem examination of an English drunkard whose liver was found to weigh _fifty pounds_, and adds that in spite of this enormous enlargement of the bile-secreting organ, the man died from a deficiency of bile. The records of the Parisian charity hospitals have established the fact that the moderate use of alcoholic drinks during a period of five years is sufficient to permeate the substance of the liver with fatty infiltrations, and that the liver of old drunkards undergoes changes which make it practically a lump of inert matter, a mass of compacted tubercles and scirrhous[13] ulcers. Even in the advanced stages of the disorder a large dose of concentrated alcohol rouses the diseased organ into a sort of feverish activity which, however, soon subsides into a deeper and more incurable torpor. Hence the temporary efficacy and ultimate uselessness (to say the least) of alcoholic “liver regulators.”

It has also been proved that alcohol inflames the brain, obstructs the kidneys, impoverishes the blood, and impairs the functional vigor of the respiratory organs.

The infallible necessity of all these results can be more fully realized by a clear comprehension of the proximate causes, which may be summed up in a few words: While the organism has to waste its strength on the elimination of the poison, it must neglect its normal functions, or perform them in a hasty, perfunctory way. Let me illustrate the matter by an apologue.[14] A family of poor tenants occupy a cottage at the edge of the woods. They are honest, hard-working people, trying their best to live within their means, but at a certain hour they are every day attacked by a bear. Before the good man can mend his jacket, before the good wife has cooked her dinner, before the boys have finished their spelling lesson, they have to rally and fight that brute. Sometimes the bear comes twice a day. They generally manage to hustle him out of the premises, but if they return to their cottage the father’s jacket is torn into shreds, the dinner is burned, and in the excitement of the row the boys have forgotten their lesson. Their clothes are torn, their hands and faces bear the marks of the scrimmage, the whole household is in a state of the wildest disorder. The poor people go to work and try to repair the mischief the best way they can, but before they have finished the job the bear comes back, and another rumpus turns the house upside down. No wonder that things go from bad to worse, no wonder the tenants can not pay their rent; but a very considerable wonder that the landlord does not relieve them by killing that bear.

The manliest races of the present world are probably the Lesghian[15] and Daghistan[16] mountaineers, who inhabit the southern highlands of the Caucasus,[17] and who defied the power of the Russian empire for sixty-five years. From 1792 to 1858, army after army of schnapps drinking[18] Muscovites[19] attacked them from the north, east and west, and were hurled back like dogs from the lair of a lion, and _fifteen hundred thousand_ Russian soldiers perished in the Caucasian defiles before the Russian eagles supplanted the crescent of Daghistan. For the heroic highlanders are Mohammedans, and _total abstainers from intoxicating drinks_. The Ossetes,[20] who inhabit the foothills of the northern range, are addicted to the use of _slibovits_[21] (peach brandy) and other stimulants, and their bloated faces present a striking contrast to the clean-cut features of the tribes who have been chosen as the representatives of the white race. They are as stubborn as their southern neighbors, but not as enterprising; as self-sacrificing in the defense of their country, but not as self-reliant. In spite of their healthy climate they are cachectic[22] and rather dull witted; alcohol has stunted their stamina as well as their stature.

But there are other forms of physical degeneration which can with certainty be ascribed to the influence of the secondary stimulants, tobacco, tea, coffee, and pungent spices. Tobacco makes the Turks indolent, tea and coffee make us nervous and dyspeptic; and the worst is that those minor vices pave the way to ruin; a constitution enfeebled by theïne poison[23] is less able to resist the influence of fusel poison. It is a great mistake to suppose that abstinence from concentrated alcoholic liquors could atone for the habitual use of other stimulants. The vices of our ancestors were gross, but one-sided; ours are more manifold, and in their effects more comprehensive. In France many so-called temperate drinkers indulge in light wine, absinthe, tea, coffee and chloral, and are weaklier and sicklier than the Hungarian dram drinkers who confine themselves to plum brandy, for the system of the miscellaneous poison-monger has to defend itself against five enemies, and, as it were, sustain the wounds of five different weapons. The mediæval knights and many Grecian and Roman epicureans could drink a quantity of wine that would kill a modern toper; but they confined themselves to that one stimulant, and showed sense enough to keep it from their boys, who had a chance to fortify their constitutions with gymnastics before they endangered them with alcohol, and not rarely thus fortified their mental constitutions to a degree that made them temptation proof. Pythagoras and Mohammed interdicted wine, and that statute did not interfere with the propagation of their doctrines, for voluntary abstainers were by no means rare—before the introduction of secondary stimulants. We fuddle our schoolboys with coffee and cider, and it is a curious and very frequent consequence of that early development of the stimulant habit that its victim forgets the happiness of his childhood and accepts daily headaches and chronic nightmares as some of the “ills that flesh is heir to.” Rousseau believed that a man would be safe against the poison vice if he could reach his twentieth year without contracting the habit, because in the meantime observation would have taught him the effects of intemperance. But his safety would be guaranteed by another circumstance. He would know what health means, and no deference to established customs would tempt him to exchange freedom for chains.

But a still greater mistake is the idea that drunkenness could be abated by the introduction of milder alcoholic drinks. We can not fight rum with lager beer. All poison habits are progressive, and we have seen that the beer vice is always apt to eventuate in a brandy vice, or else to equalize the difference by a progressive enlargement of the dose. Common brandy contains fifty per cent. of alcohol, lager beer about ten; so, if A. drinks one glass of brandy and B. five glasses of beer they have outraged their systems by the same amount of poison and will incur the same penalty. Total abstinence is the safe plan, nay, the only safe plan, for poisons can not be reduced to a harmless dose. By diminishing the quantities of the stimulant we certainly diminish its power for mischief, but as long as the dose is large enough to produce any appreciable effect that effect is a deleterious one.

Various diseases and that artificial disorder called intoxication react on certain faculties of the mind (by affecting their corresponding cerebral organ) as regularly as on the liver or any other part of the human organism. Consumption stimulates the love of life: a self-deluding hope of recovery characterizes the advanced stage of the disease as invariably as the hectic flush that simulates the color of health. Hasheesh excites combativeness. Alcohol first excites and gradually impairs _self-reliance_, and thus undermines the basis of truthfulness, of private and social enterprise, of manly courage and generosity. Moral cowardice, the chief reproach of our generation, has more to do with the tyranny of the poison vice than with the despotism of social prejudices. The brain stimulating effect of alcohol decreases with every repetition of the dose, and Dr. Theodore Chambers warns us that “however long the evil results of such habitual overtasking may be postponed, they are sure to manifest themselves at last in _that general breakdown which is the necessary sequence of a long continued excess of expenditure over income_.”

Besides, even the temporary results would not justify that expenditure. “Brain workers should confine themselves to _metaphysical tonics_,” says Dr. Bouchardat[24]; “alcoholic drinks, at any rate, are unavailable for that purpose. Even after a single glass of champagne I have found that the slight mental exaltation is accompanied by a slight obfuscation.[25] The mind soars, but it soars into the clouds.” “Wine stirs the brain,” says the poet Chamisso, “but not its higher faculties as much as the sediments that muddle it.”

The Arabs have a tradition that soon after the flood, when Nunus (the Arabian Noah) had resumed his agricultural pursuits, a _Ghin_, or spirit, appeared to him and taught him the art of manufacturing wine from grape-juice. “This beverage, O son of an earthly father,” said the _Ghin_, “is a liquid of peculiar properties. The first bumperful will make you as tame as a sheep. If you repeat the experiment you will become as fierce as a rampant lion. After the third dose you will roll in the mud like a hog.” If the _Ghin_ had been a spirit of epigrammatic abilities he might have summarized his remarks: “The effects of this liquid, O Nunus, vary, of course, with the amount of the dose. But if you drink it you will infallibly make a beast of yourself.”

In the long list of artificial stimulants, with all their modifications and compounds, there is no such thing as a harmless tonic. Alcohol, especially, is in all its disguises, the most implacable enemy of the human organism. In large quantities it is a lethal[26] poison; in smaller doses its effects are less deadly but not less certainly injurious, and the advocates of moderate drinking might as well recommend moderate perjury. Our lager beer enthusiasts might just as well advise us to introduce a milder brand of rattlesnakes. The alcohol habit in all its forms and in every stage of its development, is a degrading vice.

[D] Since the end of the seventeenth century—_i. e._, since a time when medical delusions made every hospital a death trap—longevity has slightly increased, but, as compared with the first century of our chronological era, it has enormously decreased. Peasants outlive men of letters, and yet the records of the ancients show that nearly half their poets, statesmen and philosophers were centenarians. If the years of the patriarchs were solar years their average longevity was 280 years; if they were seasons (of six months), at least 120 years. The Bible years were certainly not _months_, for men who “saw their children and children’s children,” can not have died before their thirtieth year.

STUDIES IN KITCHEN SCIENCE AND ART.

III. BARLEY, OATS, RICE AND BUCKWHEAT.

BY BYRON D. HALSTED, SC. D.

BARLEY (_Hordeum vulgare_[1]) is thought by some historians to be the oldest of the cultivated grains. Professor Brewer says it was the chief bread plant of the ancient Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans. There are several varieties, the principal ones being the two-rowed and the six-rowed. Like wheat and rye, barley is both a spring and winter grain; though with us the seed is usually sown in the spring.

Barley is the most hardy cereal, and may be successfully cultivated over the widest range of climate. It is grown in central Siberia, northern Russia, and in Lapland to latitude 70°. At the opposite extreme, barley flourishes in semi-tropical countries. In 1880 the area of barley in the United States was 1,997,717 acres, with a yield of 44,113,495 bushels. The average yield, therefore, is not far from twenty-five bushels per acre. Though adapted for a wide range of growth, its cultivation is principally confined to a few states, the leading ones of which are California, with twelve and a half million bushels; New York, seven and two-thirds millions; Wisconsin, five million; Iowa, four millions; and Minnesota, three millions bushels. It will be seen by comparing these figures with the total above given that California and New York produce nearly one half (46 per cent.) of all the barley grown in this country. These two states are very unlike in soil, climate, etc. In California the conditions are not favorable for the growth of oats and corn, and for similar reasons barley is the leading grain in Nevada and Arizona. The cultivation of this crop in New York and other eastern states has been stimulated by the great demand for the grain in the manufacture of beer. It has proved more profitable than wheat in many localities, especially where the latter grain has been infested with the Hessian fly. It is interesting to note that Pennsylvania produces less than half a million bushels, or not over one eighth as much as New York. This only shows, as is abundantly illustrated in many other cases, that market, soil and climate may have everything to do with the area devoted to any particular crop.

Barley was largely grown by the early settlers of New England, who used the grain for making bread, but for this purpose corn supplanted it in later years, it being better fitted for table dishes. Barley forms an important food for domestic animals, the greater part of the immense quantities grown on the Pacific coast being used for this purpose. Professor Brewer says: “Only a very insignificant quantity is used for food in this country; less than of any other cereal.” “Pearled barley” is the grain with the outer hull removed, and in this condition it is used to a considerable extent in soups and in other foods. The following is the chemical composition of barley, pearled barley and barley meal:

WATER. ASH. ALBUMINOIDS. FIBER. STARCH, GUM, &C. FAT.

Barley 11.09 2.47 12.41 2.89 69.32 1.82
Pearled B. 11.82 0.98 8.44 0.32 77.76 0.68
Barley Meal 9.85 3.77 12.68 7.00 63.46 3.24

The chemical constituents of barley do not vary greatly from those of wheat. There is more ash and fiber because the hull is thicker. It is seen that the per cent. of these two constituents is much reduced in the analysis of the pearled barley, in which the outer covering is removed. We here have a demonstration of the fact that the starchy matters are more abundant in the central part of the grain, while the albuminoids, ash, fiber, and fat abound near the surface. Barley, when ground into meal, makes a rich feed for live stock.

The chief use now made of barley grown in the eastern states is in the making of beer. Barley has been employed for this purpose from very early times. The old Egyptians made beer, and the ancient Greeks and Romans were acquainted with its manufacture, as well as with its effects upon the human system. The process is as follows: First soak the grain in water, and then allow it to germinate or sprout. Chemical changes take place in the starchy materials of the grain, by which they become soluble in water. After the sprouting has advanced far enough the grain is heated and dried, when the product is called malt. This malt, or kiln-dried sprouted grain is ground or crushed between rollers, and placed in mash tubs with warm water. During this gradual heating the changed starch is dissolved by the water. After the infusion settles the clear liquid is drawn off and boiled in a vessel with hops. The boiling liquid is strained, cooled, and run into the fermentation vats, where yeast is added. During the fermentation a part of the sugar derived from the starch is converted into alcohol. After a refining process the beer is ready to go into the casks. Ale, Scotch ale, small beer, porter, stout, and lager beer are the malt products of barley. The amount of capital now invested in the manufacture of beer is very great, and to those who carefully measure the evils of the beer shop it seems like a very poor place for one’s money.

Barley is imported in large quantities from Canada, in 1880 the amount being over seven million bushels, chiefly for malting. Enormous quantities are imported by Great Britain from several countries, the leading being Turkey, France, Germany and Russia. Professor Brewer says: “The cultivation of barley is doubtless on the increase, and there are many reasons, too, for the belief that its production in America will very greatly increase during the present century.”

The enemies of barley are nearly the same as those of wheat. It is more free from rust and smut, and less liable to be attacked by insects. The crop, though disagreeable to harvest, owing to the penetrating beards and poisonous effects to many who handle the straw, is a comparatively sure one.

OATS (_Avena sativa_[2]) rank third in importance among the grains grown in the United States. The native country of the oat is not certainly known. “It was cultivated by the prehistoric inhabitants of Central Europe and is found in the remains of the lake habitations[3] in Switzerland.” In Scotland oats have long been a leading crop for human food, and in compiling his dictionary, Dr. Johnson took occasion to fling a sarcasm at the Scotch by defining oats as being a food for horses in England and for men in Scotland. Had he lived now, and seen how generally oats are employed as an article of human food, his definition would have been far different and much more valuable. It is due to Scotland, in passing, to say that she produces a very superior quality of oats.

There are many varieties of oats, all of which have probably arisen from the same species of _avena_. The ordinary oats have the hull or husk adherent to the kernel, and are divided into two classes. In one, the flower cluster branches from both sides of the stem, while in the other, the branches are all upon one side. There is a group of “skinless” sorts, but little grown, in which the husk separates from its contents.

The total area in oats in the United States in 1880 was 16,144,593, with a yield of 467,858,999, or an average of not far from twenty-nine bushels per acre. Illinois, Iowa, New York, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin lead in the amount of oats grown, and in the order mentioned. These five states produce over half of all the oats grown in this country. Maine, Vermont, New York and Wyoming raise more oats than any other grain.

Oats vary greatly in weight per bushel, the heaviest being produced in a cold, moist climate. In Scotland they frequently weigh fifty pounds to the bushel, while with us the legal weight is thirty-two, with a range of from twenty to forty-five pounds to the bushel. Oat straw is much relished by sheep and cattle, and is superior to that of barley or wheat. Oats are grown extensively in some localities as a substitute for hay, and are cut before they begin to ripen. They also make an excellent forage crop, and after being pastured off the ground the soil is left in a fine condition for the next crop.

The chemical composition of oats and oat meal is as follows:

WATER. ASH. ALBUMINOIDS. FIBER. STARCH, &C. FAT.

Oats, 10.56 2.95 11.41 9.01 61.10 4.97
Oat meal, 7.85 2.01 14.66 0.86 67.56 7.06
Corn meal, 15.97 1.27 8.19 1.61 69.50 3.46
Graham, 13.09 1.77 11.67 1.87 69.89 1.71

The composition of corn meal and Graham is given for the sake of a convenient comparison. It will be seen that oats, and especially the meal, or flour, is rich in nitrogenous or muscle forming compounds, namely, the albuminoids. There is also a very large per cent. of fat, and less starch than in corn or wheat.

Of the nutritive value of oatmeal Professor Brewer notes: “Whether it is true that oatmeal is actually more wholesome or more nutritious than cracked wheat, for example, is very questionable, but it certainly is more palatable to work people. In the United States oatmeal in any form has been but sparingly used for human food until within a few years, but of late its consumption has increased enormously, many grocers now selling as many barrels a year as they sold pounds less than a score of years ago. This increase in the use of oatmeal is most marked in the cities of the older states, but it has extended to the villages and farms and even to the farthest frontier settlements.”

The enemies to the oat crop are not as many as of wheat. The rust and smut do some injury, as also the insects that feed upon wheat and other cereals.

RICE (_Oryza sativa_[4]) it is believed enters more largely into the nourishment of the human family than any other plant. It is a native of the East Indies, but is now cultivated in most tropical and sub-tropical climates. The rice plant requires an abundance of water in the soil, and thrives best on land subject to overflow for a portion of the year, or which is artificially flooded. Rice is most largely grown in India, China, Japan and Egypt—India alone producing nearly thirty million bushels per year. The rice grown in this country is confined to eight states, with an area of 174,173 acres in 1879, and a yield of 110,131,373 pounds, averaging 632 pounds per acre. Ninety per cent. of this crop is grown in the three following states: South Carolina, Louisiana, and Georgia. It is seen that the region suited to the growth of rice is much more limited than with the other cereals. The following description of rice growing in the South is from the _American Agriculturist_: “The method pursued on the rice lands of the lower Mississippi is to sow the rice broadcast about as thick as wheat at the North, and harrow it in with a light harrow having many teeth, the ground being first well plowed and prepared by ditches and embankments for inundation at will. It is generally sown in March. Immediately after sowing the water is let on so as to barely overflow the ground. The water is withdrawn on the second, third or fourth day, or as soon as the grain begins to swell. The rice very soon after comes up and grows finely. When it has attained about three inches in height the water is again let on, the top leaves being left a little above the water. Complete immersion would kill the plant. A fortnight previous to harvest the water is drawn off to give the stalks strength and to dry the ground for the convenience of the reapers.… The same area of ground yields three times as much rice as wheat.… Rice, like hemp, does not impoverish the soil.… The pine barrens of Mississippi would produce rice _ad infinitum_ if it were not that the land, after a few years, owing to the sandy nature of the soil, becomes too dry for it.… No variety has been discovered which yields as much out of the water as it does in it.… It flourishes better when overflowed with pure running water than with the stagnant waters of impure lakes and marshes.”

The chemical composition of rice grain is as follows: Water 12.44, ash 0.38, albuminoids 7.44, fiber 0.19, starch, etc. 19.20, fat 0.35. It is seen to contain a less amount of the flesh forming or albuminoid compounds, and a greater per cent. of heat producing or starchy matter, than the other grains. The flour contains so little gluten that it can not be made into light bread. Rice is familiar to all as white, pearly grains, which are employed as the leading ingredient of puddings, etc. The outer covering or husk is removed in the process of threshing, but to separate the inner requires expensive machinery. “The rough rice is first ground between very heavy stones running at a high speed, which partially removes the hull chaff. The grain is conveyed into mortars, where it is pounded for a certain length of time by the alternate rising and falling of very heavy pestles shod with iron. From these mortars elevators carry the rice to the fans which separate the grain from the remaining husks. From here it goes through other fans which divide it into three qualities—‘whole,’ ‘middling’ and ‘small.’ The whole rice is then passed through a polishing screen, lined with gauze wire and sheepskins, which, revolving vertically at the greatest possible speed, gives it the pearly whiteness with which it appears in commerce.” The “small” rice is sometimes ground and employed to adulterate wheat flour. Rice, when prepared in the many forms of puddings, cakes, soups, etc., is very easy of digestion, and is specially fitted for the food of invalids. In Japan, where the rice crop is a leading one, an alcoholic drink called _sake_ is made from it. A wine is made in China from this grain, and the _Arrack_ of the East is also a rice beverage.

BUCKWHEAT (_Polygonnum esculentum_[5]). The six grains already treated in this and the preceding article are all members of the great grass family. The remaining cereal belongs to another and distantly related group of plants. Buckwheat is a member of a small family containing the knotweeds, bindweeds, smartweeds, dock and rhubarb. The buckwheat plant in its growth and structure is very different from the grasses. It is supposed to be a native of northern Asia, and has been cultivated for its large, triangular seeds, from very early times. The name is derived from the German _Buck-weizen_, “beech wheat,” the shape of the grain closely resembling that of the beech nut.

The buckwheat crop in the United States for 1879 was 11,817,227 bushels, for 848,389 acres, or about fourteen bushels per acre. The increase in the total yield of buckwheat is not keeping pace with the increase in population. New York and Pennsylvania are the leading buckwheat producing states, sixty-eight per cent. of the whole crop of 1879 being grown within their borders. Hilly regions, with a thin soil, that are not suited to other grains, may be profitably devoted to growing buckwheat. It is known as a “wide feeder;” that is, the buckwheat plant produces long, wide-spreading roots which penetrate the poor soil for long distances and gather nourishment over a wide area. On this account this crop is frequently grown on worn-out soil and plowed under while green as a fertilizer, in preparation for some other crop requiring more plant food close at hand in the soil. The period of growth is short, being sown in midsummer and harvested before the autumn frosts have an opportunity to injure it. It frequently serves a good purpose as a second crop where the first has failed from poor seed, bad weather, destructive insects, or one or more of these or other causes. The grain is especially wholesome for poultry, and while the field is in bloom bees harvest a larger store of honey, though not of the best quality.

The chemical composition of buckwheat and its flour is as follows:

WATER. ASH. ALBUMINOIDS. FIBER. STARCH, &C. FAT.

Buckwheat 12.62 2.02 10.02 8.67 64.43 2.24
B. flour 13.52 1.05 6.48 0.28 77.34 1.33

The albuminoids are seen to be only about half as abundant as in wheat flour. The fiber (bran) is in large quantity and the starchy matter abounds. As a food buckwheat is less strengthening but somewhat more fattening than wheat. The popular notion that buckwheat when eaten regularly will induce a feverish state of the system and eruption of the skin, is probably well founded. The plant belongs to a family, many members of which have peculiar medicinal principles, and doubtless there is some oil or other substance present in the buckwheat that does not appear in a chemical analysis, though active upon the animal system.

There are very few enemies to the buckwheat plant. So infrequent are the attacks of insects that the crop is recommended by Professor Riley as a means of driving insects away from fields. It is a very cleansing crop as regards weeds also, the rank growth smothering out the various forms of plant pests that may spring up. The buckwheat field is, of course, not exempt from the ravages of those insects like locust and army worms, that devour everything green in their line of march.

OTHER CEREALS.—Small quantities of a number of other cereals have been and are still cultivated in the United States. There are several millets grown for forage, but the aggregate amount is only a trifle compared with the other cereals, and they are not on the increase. One of these millets is quite extensively grown for the dried branches of the seed-bearing tops called the “brush,” and is familiar to every housekeeper as brooms, when attached to long handles. Another variety of the very fertile species, _Sorghum vulgare_,[6] is the durra or doura grown to some extent in the Southern States as a forage crop. But it is not our purpose to discuss the many varieties of plants that have been experimented with or are grown to only a small extent. Professor Brewer, than whom there is no better authority, and who has been laid under liberal contribution for facts in our two papers on the cereals, says: “The established cereals have been so long cultivated, are so differentiated into varieties, so adapted to different phases of cultivation, and to various uses to which man applies them, that it seems probable that the number will not be materially increased in cultivation, and, moreover, in our agriculture Indian corn so fills a part which in other countries is occupied by a number of other plants, either for forage or bread, that it will doubtless continue to exclude various species whose cultivation is practiced elsewhere.” If we do the best we can with the six cereals now grown we will have no cause for distress.

THE CEREALS: BARLEY, OATS, RICE AND BUCKWHEAT.

The cereals furnish the cook materials for many of her most valuable articles of food. Wholesome, easily prepared, and inexpensive, their use on the table can not be too strongly commended. Barley is not in general use among Americans, but the pearled barley ought to form an indispensable article in every larder. In soups it is excellent. The stock for barley soup should be made with the greatest care. Into your soup-kettle—every housewife needs one—put a carefully washed beef bone, and with it all your scraps of cold meat, trimmings from steaks, and bones of chickens, turkey and beefsteak. Put your meat into cold, clear water and for the first half hour allow it but a moderate heat; after that the pot should be placed on the back of the stove, allowing the soup to simmer for four or five hours. This low heat extracts all the juices from the meat, and, this done, the liquor should be strained and allowed to cool. When ready to use the thick layer of grease which forms on the top of the stock should be removed, and the vegetables—the more the better—which are to flavor the soup added. Allow this to simmer until the vegetables have given up their juices, then strain, and into your soup put pepper and salt, with a cup and a half of barley, and allow the whole to come to a boil. Serve hot. Cold and greasy soup is detestable. To prepare the barley for use it should be soaked for several hours and cooked until soft over a slow fire.

BEEF WITH BARLEY.—Beef is nice served with barley. A beef roast may be garnished with barley which has been boiled, and a steak is oftentimes served in barley. Pieces of cold beef may be warmed over with this cereal in the following way: Mince into dice the scraps of meat, butter a sauce pan thoroughly, pour in a little water and add equal quantities of the minced meat and cold boiled barley. Stir until hot, then pour in two eggs slightly beaten, and stir until the eggs are cooked; season with salt and pepper. Cold mutton may be prepared with rice in the same way.

BARLEY FOR THE SICK.—“From the times of Hippocrates[1] and Galen,”[2] says a writer, “barley drinks have been in high repute in febrile and inflammatory complaints. They possess mild, soothing qualities, while at the same time they impart nourishment.” For _barley water_ the following is a standard recipe: Wash pearled barley in four waters, rub two or three pieces of sugar on a lemon cut open and put them in a jug with the washed barley and a few slices of lemon; then pour boiling water over the whole and cover it until it is cold. _Barley gruel_ is made by boiling two ounces of the pearled barley in half a pint of water; strain off this water and put the barley into three pints and a half of salted boiling water, and let it boil half away, then strain it for use.

OATMEAL.—Of the good qualities of this Scottish favorite, most of us are aware. “Oatmeal is,” says one authority, “when eaten with milk, a perfect food, having all the requisites for growing children and the young generally. Oatmeal requires much cooking to effectually burst its starch cells, but when it is well cooked it will thicken liquid much more than equal its weight in wheaten flour. The oats of this country are superior to those grown on the continent and in the southern parts of England, but certainly inferior to the Scotch, where considerable pains is taken to cultivate them; and it is needless to point out that the Scotch are an example of a strong and robust nation, which result is justly set down as being derived from the plentiful use of oatmeal. Dr. Guthrie has asserted that his countrymen have the largest heads of any nation in the world—not even the English have such large heads—which he attributes to the universal use of oatmeal.” The almost universal method of using oatmeal is in porridge, or mush, as we almost always call this excellent dish. There are two methods of preparing mush: To one quart of boiling water add one teaspoonful of salt; take a heaping cupful of oatmeal and sprinkle it slowly in with one hand while it is stirred with the other. When the meal has been all put in it should not be stirred more than is necessary to keep it from burning at the bottom. If much stirred the porridge will be starchy and flavorless. A better porridge may be made by stirring at night into two pints of salted boiling water half a pint of oatmeal. Let it boil for two or three minutes, then cover closely and place on the back of the range where it may simmer until breakfast time. Oatmeal may also be steamed. _Fried oatmeal_ is a nice breakfast dish. Take steamed oatmeal when it is cold, cut it in thin slices, and fry until it is brown in a little lard or butter.

OATMEAL GRUEL.—A valuable item on an invalid’s bill of fare is oatmeal gruel. “Take two tablespoonfuls of oatmeal, half a blade of mace, a piece of lemon peel, three gills of milk, and a little sugar. Mix two spoonfuls of oatmeal until smooth in a little milk, and stir it gradually into the remainder of the milk; add the lemon peel and blade of mace; set it over the fire for fifteen minutes, stirring it constantly. Then strain it and add sugar to taste.”

RICE.—For simply boiling rice we have an excellent “black man’s recipe” given in one of our favorite cook books by an old sea-captain friend of ours. Here it is just as it was told the “captain:” “Wash him well; much wash in cold water; the rice, flour, make him stick; water boil already very fast; throw him in, rice can’t burn, water shake him too much; boil quarter of an hour or a little more; rub one rice in thumb and finger; if all rub away him quite done; put rice in cullender, hot water run away; pour cup of cold water on him, put back rice in saucepan, keep him covered near the fire, then rice all ready; eat him up.”

Equally good is rice cooked by steaming. After washing thoroughly, soak for an hour in warm water, three pints of water to one of rice. Set the dish containing the rice and water in which it has been soaking into the steamer and allow it to steam for an hour. It should be salted after put to steam and stirred frequently. Milk may take the place of part of the water.

RICE WAFFLES.—Into one and a half pints of flour stir a little salt, and rub in evenly a piece of butter the size of a walnut, add three beaten eggs, mixed with half a teacupful of sweet milk, one and a half pints of boiled rice and half a teacupful of sour milk, with one teaspoonful of soda; bake immediately in waffle irons. Rice pancakes may be made by adding an extra half cupful of milk. These pancakes may be served with jelly. When hot from the griddle spread them with butter and almost any kind of preserves or jelly; roll them up as you do roll jelly-cake, cut off the ends, arrange them on a platter, sprinkle sugar over the tops, and serve immediately.

RICE SERVED WITH MEAT.—Rice may be used as a side dish with any kind of meat. _Risotto à la Milanaise_[3] is a favorite dish. Put one ounce of butter into a stew-pan and when hot mix in a quarter of a small onion minced, cook until it turns yellow; put in a cupful of uncooked rice and stir it until it has become yellow from the butter and onion; now add a pint of stock and boil slowly until the rice is tender. The stock should be nearly all absorbed; before serving add an ounce of grated cheese and stir for a few moments over the fire without letting it boil. Sprinkle a little grated cheese over the top. Another very simple side dish is prepared from rice by mixing a tablespoonful of minced parsley or shives into a pint of boiled rice. Put an ounce of butter into a sauce pan, heat it until it becomes a light brown; mix the rice in the butter and serve as a vegetable.

DESSERTS FROM RICE.—The rice pudding is undoubtedly the standard rice dessert, but it is only one of numberless wholesome and toothsome dishes which may be prepared. The simplest form of this pudding and the most delicious is a simple compound of rice, sugar and milk. To two quarts of milk add one cupful of rice and one of sugar, a small pinch of salt, and the desired flavoring. Place the mixture where it will heat very slowly. When the milk becomes boiling hot place the pudding in a slow oven and let it bake for an hour. Do not stir after placing in the oven. A more elaborate pudding is made by dissolving a tablespoonful of corn starch in three cupfuls of milk; add the yolks of two eggs beaten into three-quarters of a cupful of sugar. Put this mixture over the fire and when hot add one cupful of hot boiled rice; stir this until it thickens, then take it off the fire and add the flavoring. Put it into a pudding dish and place in the oven until it is slightly brown; remove and spread over the top the whites of two eggs beaten to a stiff froth and thickened with a little sugar, return the pudding to the oven for a few minutes until the frosting is of a delicate brown color.

Among the many other practical and excellent desserts of rice, the following from Mrs. Henderson’s “Practical Cooking” we know to be good:

RICE CONES.—Mould boiled rice, when hot, into cups which have been previously dipped in cold water; when cold turn them out on a flat dish; with a teaspoon scoop out a little of the rice from the top of each cone, and put in its place any kind of jelly. Any sauce preferred may be served with it.

RICE CAKE WITH PEACHES.—Cook the rice in a steamer with milk, and when still hot add a little butter, sugar, and one or two eggs. Butter a plain pudding mould, strew the butter with bread crumbs and put in a layer of rice half an inch thick; then a layer of peaches, and continue alternate layers of each until the mould is full. Bake this for about fifteen or twenty minutes in an oven; when done turn the cake out of the mould, and pour into the dish any desired sauce. Other fruits may be used with rice in the same way.

ORANGE SNOW BALLS.—Boil some rice for ten minutes, drain, and let it cool. Pare some oranges, taking off all the thick, white skin; spread the rice in as many portions as there are oranges, on pudding cloths. Tie the fruit, surrounded by the rice, separately in these and boil the balls for an hour; turn them carefully on a dish, sprinkle over plenty of sifted sugar, serve with sauce or sweetened cream.

APPLE SNOW BALLS may be prepared in the same way, the apples being pared and cored without dividing them.

RICE CROQUETTES.—Soak a half a pound of rice three or four hours in water; drain and put into a basin with one quart of milk and a little salt. Set the basin in the steamer and cook until thoroughly done; then stir in carefully one teacupful of sugar, the yolks of two eggs, a very little butter and flavoring. When cold enough to handle, form into small balls; press the thumb into the center of each; insert a little marmalade or jelly of any kind, and close the rice well over them; roll in beaten eggs (sweetened a little) and bread crumbs. Fry in boiling hot lard.

RICE FOR THE SICK.—Rice jelly is an excellent food for invalids. It is made from rice flour, two heaping teaspoonfuls of which are mixed with water and made into a thin paste. This paste must be stirred into a cupful of boiling water, and the whole sweetened. It should be boiled until it is transparent and then put into a mould.

GROUND RICE MILK is prepared by boiling together two tablespoonfuls of ground rice with a pint of milk. Sweeten it according to taste, adding the juice of a lemon. Let it boil half an hour over a moderate fire.

PARCHED RICE.—Brown rice as you do coffee. Put into boiling salted water and cook thoroughly; serve with cream and sugar.