_The_ application of the _Soap-bath_ is very simple: the bather is armed with a large lump of good ordinary yellow soap, and a loose washing glove (the white and very soft “Turkish” is the pleasantest, or if a hard glove be preferred, the “Baden” may be used) big enough to come over the wrist, and standing _découvert_ in front of the washing basin containing _hot_ water, quickly and vigorously covers the body from head to foot with a thick and abundant lather. By using hot water, chills are avoided, and the body is kept sufficiently warm to avoid the unpleasantness, and often harm, following repeated applications of mere handfuls of cold liquid. _The_ soap application may take about three or four minutes at most; the very robust may use tepid water, but most persons will find warm or hot more agreeable; and more delicate persons whose finger-tips have the unpleasant habit of turning numb and white upon the application of cold water, will find in the _Soap-bath_ an agreeable means of bathing otherwise perhaps unattainable. _Cold_ bathing promotes vigour in the young and healthy, and the _Soap-bath_ has the same effect in an intensified degree, with the further inestimable advantage—except where there are positive indications of lung or heart disease—of being alike suitable to the robust and weakly. _With_ the body thoroughly warm comes the plunge into cold water, which must be got over quickly—once, twice, or thrice, overhead—but a couple of rapid dips are sufficient to remove every particle of soap. _A Plunge-bath_ sunk below the surface of the bath-room, lined with white glazed tiles, and nearly full of clear water, into which one can take a header, and clamber out by the aid of a rope and gently sloping ladder, is perhaps the best and most luxurious form; it is to be regretted that there are few such baths in modern houses. _There_ are persons who habitually bathe in tepid water, and remain splashing about for a considerable time, but much greater benefit is to be derived, and the body becomes infinitely more refreshed and invigorated by a shorter immersion in water of a lower temperature. _The_ head must remain uncovered and receive the full benefit of the cold water. This may be a serious consideration for ladies, but there is no choice: the penalty for keeping the head dry will usually be a violent headache with the probable complaint that “baths don’t suit me,” but whether, in the absence of wetting the head, headache follows or not, the health must suffer. _The_ momentary shock of the cold dip is succeeded by a delightful feeling of vital internal warmth—a delicious triumphant glow. It is highly unadvisable to be leisurely over this part of the bath, however one may dawdle in dressing: the coldness of the water would gain upon the warmth of the body, but without waiting for this, the bather at once quits the cold bath, and proceeds to make ample use of dry towels. [Illustration: A Water-gate of Bruges.]