We then dressed as fast as possible, postponing for the present the operation of shaving, drank two tumblers of cold water, and took a rapid walk round the wilderness (an expanse of shrubbery near the house is so called), in the crisp, fresh morning air.  The sunshine was of the brightest; the dew was on the grass; everybody was early there; fresh-looking patients were walking in all directions at the rate of five miles an hour; the gardeners were astir; we heard the cheerful sound of the mower whetting his scythe; the air was filled with the freshness of the newly-cut grass, and with the fragrance of lilac and hawthorn blossom; and all this by half-past six a.m.!  How we pitied the dullards that were lagging a-bed on that bright summer morning!  One turn round the wilderness occupies ten minutes:  we then drank two more tumblers of water, and took a second turn of ten minutes.  Two tumblers more, and another turn; and then, in a glow of health and good humour, into our chamber to dress for the day.  The main supply of water is drunk before breakfast; we took six tumblers daily at that time, and did not take more than two or three additional in the remainder of the day.  By eight o’clock breakfast was on the table in the large hall, where it remained till half-past nine.  Bread, milk, water, and stewed pippins (cold), formed the morning meal.  And didn’t we polish it off!  The accession of appetite is immediate.

Such is the process entitled the Pack and Plunge.  It was the beginning of the day’s proceedings during the two months we spent at Sudbrook.  We believe it forms the morning treatment of almost every patient; a shallow bath after packing being substituted for the plunge in the case of the more nervous.  With whatever apprehension people may have looked forward to being packed before having experienced the process, they generally take to it kindly after a single trial.  The pack is perhaps the most popular part of the entire cold water treatment.

Mr. Lane says of it:—­

What occurred during a full hour after this operation (being packed) I am not in a condition to depose, beyond the fact that the sound, sweet, soothing sleep which I enjoyed, was a matter of surprise and delight.  I was detected by Mr. Bardon, who came to awake me, smiling, like a great fool, at nothing; if not at the fancies which had played about my slumbers.  Of the heat in which I found myself, I must remark, that it is as distinct from perspiration, as from the parched and throbbing glow of fever.  The pores are open, and the warmth of the body is soon communicated to the sheet; until—­as in this my first experience of the luxury—­a breathing, steaming heat is engendered, which fills the whole of the wrappers, and is plentifully shown in the smoking state which they exhibit as they are removed.  I shall never forget the luxurious ease in which I awoke on this morning, and looked forward with pleasure to the daily repetition of what had been quoted to me by the uninitiated with disgust and shuddering.