He parts with his ticket or half-crown with pleasure, feeling in his inmost heart that he has the best of the bargain. And so he enters his little sanctum and begins to undress. He would fain hurry off his garments: he longs to be free but he remembers that everything ought to be done leisurely for his good. But now the last article of apparel is laid carefully aside and he smiles to himself--a happy smile--as he dons the cummerbund, or cotton pyjamas, and issues forth to enter the calidarium. He will not have long remained here until beads of perspiration appear on chest and brow, and arms, gradually extending downwards until limbs and even feet are covered with a warm moisture. A mouthful or two of cold water will cause the drops of perspiration to accumulate and increase in size, until uniting, they trickle "in burns"--as the Scotch call it, from the body. He has very likely assumed a reclining position on a wooden cane-bottomed settee. Here he may read if so minded, he will hardly care to talk, if he does he ought not to. A strange dreamy kind of happiness steals over him, not wild exciting thoughts like those of the opium-eater. No, his is now indeed the _dolce far niente_; he has eaten the lotus leaf, all worldly cares, if he has any, are for the time being forgotten, he even wonders that he permitted anything sublunary to worry him. And so the time passes all too quickly away. Perhaps the attendant now warns him it is time to retire, or to enter even a hotter room in which he will stay a shorter time, then thence to the lavatory. How pleasant the trickling of the warm shower bath, how delightful the soap shampoo, that removes every bit from top to toe of the unhealthy, or at least superfluous scarf skin. Every particle of impurity may be said to have exuded from the blood, which is now pure as the constitution of the bather can permit it to be, and every particle of impurity has been washed by shampooing from the outer surface. The warm shower completes the cleansing. But now the gaping pores must be made to contract, their fibres are relaxed they must be closed. But however cold the water douche may be, by which this operation is performed, to the bather it seems most pleasant and delicious. Wrapped in a sheet from head to heel he once more passes through the calidarium, on his way to the cooling room. He may linger here for a few moments if so minded but not for long, only just to restore a gentle warmth to the surface of the body. In the cool room he will remain reclining and enwrapped in his sheet for about a quarter of an hour and probably the attendant will come and knead every muscle of the body getting back the lagging blood, if indeed it does lag, heart-wards and rendering the whole body as supple and pliant and elastic as life. Then to dress most slowly. And while dressing, to leisurely imbibe a cup of warm, not hot, tea or coffee.