ADVICE TO A WIFE ON THE MANAGEMENT OF HER OWN HEALTH, AND ON THE TREATMENT OF SOME OF THE COMPLAINTS INCIDENTAL TO PREGNANCY, LABOR, AND SUCKLING; WITH AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER ESPECIALLY ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG WIFE. (continued 2)

Our tender plants; how blows the citron grove,

What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed;

How Nature paints her colors; how the bee

Sits on the bloom.”^[22]

116. It is wonderful how much may be done betimes in the morning. There is nothing like a good start. It 68makes for the remainder of the day the occupation easy and pleasant—

“Happy, thrice happy, every one

Who sees his labor well begun,

And not perplexed and multiplied

By idly waiting for time and tide.”^[23]

117. How glorious, and balmy, and health-giving, is the first breath of the morning, more especially to those living in the country! It is more exhilarating, invigorating, and refreshing than it is all the rest of the day. If you wish to be strong, if you desire to retain your good looks and your youthful appearance, if you are desirous of having a family, rise betimes in the morning; if you are anxious to lay the foundation of a long life, jump out of bed the moment you are awake. Let there be no dallying, no parleying with the enemy, or the battle is lost, and you will never after become an early riser; you will then lose one of the greatest charms and blessings of life, and will, probably, not have the felicity of ever becoming a mother; if you do become one, it will most likely be of puny children. The early risers make the healthy, bright, long-lived wives and mothers. But if a wife is to be an early riser, she must have a little courage and determination; great advantages in this world are never gained without; but what is either man or woman good for if they have not those qualities?

118. An early riser ought always to have something 69to eat and drink, such as a little bread and butter, and either a cup of tea or a draught of new milk, before she goes out of a morning; this need not interfere with, at the usual hour, her regular breakfast. If she were to take a long walk on an empty stomach, she would for the remainder of the day feel tired and exhausted, and she would then, but most unfairly, fancy that early rising did not agree with her.

119. The early morning is one of the best and most enjoyable portions of the day. There is a perfect charm in nature which early risers alone can appreciate. It is only the early riser that ever sees “the rosy morn,” the blushing of the sky, which is gloriously beautiful! Nature, in the early morning, seems to rejoice and be glad, and to pour out her richest treasures: the birds vie with each other in their sweetest carols; the dew on the grass, like unto myriads of diamonds, glittering and glistening, and glinting in the rays of the sun; occasionally the cobwebs on the shrubs and bushes, like exquisite lace sparkling with gems; the fresh and matchless perfume and fragrance of the earth and flowers;—these, one and all, are gloriously beautiful to behold, and can only be enjoyed to perfection in the early morning, while the majority of people, during the choicest periods of their existence, are sweltering, and dozing, and deteriorating both in body and mind, on beds of down, when they ought to be up, out, and about! Can it be wondered at, when such weakening and enervating practices are so much in vogue—for luxury is the curse of the day—that there 70are so many barren wives in England? It looks, on the first blush, that many of the customs and practices of the present day were to cause barrenness; for, assuredly, if they had been instituted on purpose, they could not have performed their task more surely and successfully.

120. It might be said that the dews of the morning are dangerous! The dews of the early morning are beneficial to health, while the dews of the evening are detrimental. How truly the poet sings—

“Dew-drops are the gems of morning,

But the tears of mournful eve!”^[24]

121. Early rising imparts health to the frame, strength to the muscles, and comeliness to the countenance; it clears the brain, and thus brightens the intellect; it is a panacea for many of the ills of life, and, unlike many panaceas, it is both simple and pleasant in its operation; it calms the troubled breast; it gives a zest to the after-employments and pleasures of the day; and makes both man and woman look up from “nature’s works to nature’s God!”

122. Early rising rejuvenizes the constitution: it makes the middle-aged look young, and the old look middle-aged; it is the finest cosmetic in the world, and tints the cheeks with a bloom the painter emulates, but in vain! On the other hand, late rising adds 71years to the looks, fills the body with aches and pains, and the countenance with crow-feet and wrinkles; gives a yellowness and pimples to the face, and depression to the spirits. Aged looks and ill health invariably follow in the wake of late rising.

123. If a mistress rise early the servants are likely to follow suit: a lazy mistress is almost sure to have lazy servants; the house becomes a sluggard’s dwelling! Do not let me be misunderstood; I do not recommend any unreasonable hours for rising in the morning; I do not advise a wife to rise early for the sake of rising early: there would be neither merit nor sense in it; I wish her to have her full complement of sleep—seven or eight hours; but I do advise her to go to bed early, in order that she might be up every morning at six o’clock in the summer, and at seven o’clock in the winter. I maintain that it is the duty of every wife, unless prevented by illness, to be an early riser. This last reason should have greater weight with her than any other that can possibly be brought forward! All things in this world ought to be done from a sense of duty; duty ought to be a wife’s and every other person’s pole-star!

124. There is a wonderful and glorious object in creation which few, very few, ladies, passing strange though it be, have ever seen—the rising of the sun! The few who have seen it are, probably, those who have turned night into day, who are returning home in the early morning, jaded and tired, after dancing the 72whole of the previous night. These, of course, cannot enjoy, and most likely do not even see, the magnificent spectacle!

125. I am not advising my fair reader to rise every morning with the rising of the sun—certainly not; but if she be an early riser, she might occasionally indulge herself in beholding the glorious sight!

126. “The top of the morning to you” is a favorite Irish salutation, and is very expressive and complimentary. “The top of the morning”—the early morning, the time when the sun first rises in his majesty and splendor—is the most glorious, and health-giving, and best part of the whole day; when nature and all created beings rejoice and are glad:

“But mighty Nature bounds as from her birth,

The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth;

Flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam,

Health in the gale, and freshness in the stream.”^[25]

127. Let a young wife, if she be anxious to have a family and healthy progeny, be in bed betimes. It is impossible that she can rise early in the morning unless she retire early at night. “One hour’s sleep before midnight is worth three after.” Sleep before midnight is most essential to health, and if to health, to beauty; hence, sleep before midnight is called beauty-sleep. The finest cosmetic is health!

73128. She ought to pay particular attention to the ventilation of her sleeping apartment, and she herself, before leaving the chamber in the morning, ought never to omit to open the windows; and in the summer, if the room be large, she should during the night leave, for about six or eight inches, the window-sash open. If the room be small it will be desirable to have, instead of the window, the door (secured from intrusion by a door-chain) unclosed; and to have, as well, either the skylight or the landing window open. There ought by some means or other, if the inmates of the room are to have sweet and refreshing sleep, to be thorough ventilation of the sleeping apartment. I have no patience to hear some men assert that it is better to sleep in a close room—in a foul room! They might, with equal truth, declare that it is desirable for a healthy person to swallow every night a dose of arsenic in order to prolong his life! Carbonic acid gas is as truly a poison as arsenic! If there be a dressing-room next to the bedroom, it will be well to have the dressing-room window, instead of the bedroom window, open at night. The dressing-room door will regulate the quantity of air to be admitted into the bedroom, opening it either little or much as the weather might be cold or otherwise.^[26] The idea that it will give cold is erroneous; it will be more likely, by strengthening the system and by carrying off the impurities of the lungs and skin, to prevent cold.

74129. Some persons, accustomed all their lives to sleep in a close, foul room—in a room contaminated with carbonic acid gas—cannot sleep in a fresh, well-ventilated chamber, in a chamber with either door or window open: they seem to require the stupefying effects of the carbonic acid gas, and cannot sleep without it! If such be the case, and as sleep is of such vital importance to the human economy, let both window and door be closed, but do not, on any account, let the chimney be stopped, as there must be, in a bedroom, ventilation of some kind or another, or ill health will inevitably ensue.

130. It is madness to sleep in a room without ventilation—it is inhaling poison; for the carbonic acid gas, the refuse of respiration, which the lungs are constantly throwing off, is a poison—a deadly poison—and, of course, if there be no ventilation, a person must breathe this carbonic acid gas mixed with the atmospheric air. Hence the importance, the vital importance, of either an open chimney or of an open window, or of both. The chimney, then, even if the window be closed, ought never to be stopped; and the window, either of the bedroom or of the dressing-room, should not be closed, even in the night, unless the weather be either very wet or bitterly cold. I should strongly recommend my fair reader, and, indeed, every one else, to peruse the good and talented Florence Nightingale’s Notes on Nursing. They ought to be written in letters of gold, and should be indelibly impressed on the memory of every one who has the interest of human life 75and happiness at heart. Florence Nightingale declares that no one, while in bed, ever catches cold from proper ventilation. I believe her; and I need not say that no one has had more experience and better opportunities of judging about what she writes than this accomplished authoress.

131. I fearlessly assert that no one can sleep sweetly and refreshingly unless there be thorough ventilation of the chamber. She may have, in an unventilated apartment, heavy, drowsy, deathlike sleep, and well she might! She is under the stupefying effects of poison; the carbonic acid gas, which is constantly being evolved from the lungs, and which wants a vent, but cannot obtain it, is, as I have before remarked, a deadly poison! She may as well take every night a stupefying opiate, as breathe nightly a bedroom charged with carbonic acid gas; the one would, in the long run, be as pernicious as the other. To show the power of carbonic acid gas in sending people to sleep, we have only to notice a crowded church of an evening; when, even if the preacher be an eloquent man, the majority of the congregation is fast asleep,—is, in point of fact, under the soporific influence of the carbonic acid gas, the church being at the time full of it. Carbonic acid gas is as certain, if not more certain, to produce a heavy deathlike slumber as either numbing opium or drowsy poppy.

132. I moreover declare that she cannot have sweet refreshing sleep at night unless during the day she 76take plenty of exercise, and unless she has an abundance of active, useful occupation.

133. Occupation—active, useful occupation—is the best composing medicine in the world; and the misfortune of it is that the wealthy have little or no occupation to cause them to sleep. Pleasure they have in abundance, but little or no real occupation. “The sleep of a laboring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much: but the abundance of the rich will not suffer them to sleep.”^[27]

134. Sleep is of more consequence to the human economy than food. Nothing should therefore be allowed by a young wife to interfere with sleep. And as the attendance on large assemblies, balls, and concerts sadly, in every way, interfere with sleep, they ought, one and all, to be sedulously avoided.

135. As exercise is very conducive and provocative of sleep—sound, sweet, childlike sleep—exercise must be practiced, and that not by fits and starts, but regularly and systematically. She ought, then, during the day, with exercise and with occupation, to tire herself, and she will then have sweet and refreshing sleep. But some ladies never do tire themselves except with excitement; they do not know what it is to be tired either by a long walk or by household work. They can tire themselves with dancing at a ball; poor fragile 77creatures can remain up the whole night waltzing, quadrilling, and galloping, but would be shocked at the idea and at the vulgarity of walking a mile at a stretch! Poor creatures, they are to be pitied; and, if they ever marry, so are their husbands. Are such wives as these likely to be mothers, and if they are, are their offspring likely to be strong? Are such wives as these likely to be the mothers of our future warriors, of our future statesmen, and of our other worthies—men of mark, who,

“Departing, leave behind them

Footprints on the sands of time!”

136. Sleep is the choicest gift of God. Sleep is a comforter, a solace, a boon, a nourisher, a friend. Happy, thrice happy, is a wife who can sleep like unto a little child! When she is well, what a comfort is sleep; when she is ill, what a soother of pain is sleep; when she is in trouble, what a precious balm is sleep!

137. Hear what our noblest poet, Shakspeare, says of sleep:

“Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,

The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,

Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course

Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”

138. A luxurious, idle wife cannot sleep; she, night after night, tumbles and tosses on her bed of down. What has she done during the day to tire herself, and 78thus to induce sleep? Alas, nothing! She in consequence never experiences

“Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep.”

For, after all, out-door exercise and useful occupation are the best composing medicines in the world! Encompassed as she is with every luxury—partaking of all the delicacies of the season, of the richest viands, and of the choicest wines—decked out in costly apparel—reclining on the softest cushions—surrounded with exquisite scenery, with troops of friends, and with bevies of servants;—yet, notwithstanding all these apparent advantages, she is oftentimes one of the most debilitated, complaining, “nervous,” hysterical and miserable of mortals. The causes of all these afflictions are—she has nothing to do; she is overwhelmed with prosperity; she is like a fire that is being extinguished in consequence of being overloaded with fuel; she is being killed with overmuch kindness; she is a drone in a hive where all must work if they are to be strong and well, and bright and cheerful; for labor is the lot of all and the law for all, for “God is no respecter of persons.” The remedies for a lady affected as above described are simple and yet efficacious—namely, simplicity of living, and an abundance of out-door exercise and of useful occupation. It would have been to the manifest advantage of many a fair dame if she were obliged to put down her close carriage, and were compelled to walk instead of drive. Riding in close carriages nurse many ailments which walking 79would banish; a brisk walk is the best tonic and the most reviving medicine in the world, and would prevent the necessity of her swallowing so much nauseous physic. Nature’s simple remedies are oftentimes far superior and far more agreeable than any to be found in the Pharmacopœia. It would have been a blessing to many a rich, indolent, and luxurious lady if she had been born in a lower rank—in one in which she had been compelled to work for her daily bread; if she had been, she would, in many instances, have been far happier and healthier than she now is. Indolence and luxury kill more than hard work and hard fare ever did or ever will kill. Indolence and luxury are slow poisons; they destroy by degrees, but are in the end as certain in their deleterious effects as either arsenic or deadly nightshade—

“Come hither, ye that press your beds of down,

And sleep not; see him sweating o’er his bread

Before he eats it. ’Tis the primal curse,

But softened into mercy—made the pledge

Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.”

139. I must not forget to speak of the paramount importance in a dwelling of an abundance of light—of daylight. Light is life, light is health, light is a physician! Light is life: the sun gives life as well as light; if it were not for the sun, all creation would wither and die. There is “no vitality or healthful structure without light.”^[28] Light is health: it strengthens the 80frame, it cheers the heart, and tints the cheeks with a roseate hue! Light is a physician: it drives away many diseases, as the mists vanish at the approach of the sun; and it cures numerous ailments which drugs alone are unable to relieve.

140. Look at the bloom on the face of a milkmaid! What is it that tints her cheeks? An abundance of light. Behold the pallid, corpselike countenance of a factory girl! What blanches her cheek? The want of light, of air, and of sunshine.

141. A room, then, ought to have large windows in order that the sun might penetrate into every nook and corner of the apartment. A gardener thoroughly appreciates the importance of light to his flowers; he knows, also, that if he wishes to blanch some kinds of vegetables—such as celery and sea-kale—he must keep the light from them; and if my fair reader desires to blanch her own cheeks, she ought to keep the light from them; but, on the other hand, if she be anxious to be healthy and rosy, she must have plenty of light in her dwelling.

142. The want of light stunts the growth, dims the sight, and damps the spirits. Colliers, who a great part of their lives live in the bowels of the earth, are generally stunted; prisoners, confined for years in a dark dungeon, frequently become blind; people who live in dark houses are usually melancholic.

143. Light banishes from rooms foulness, fustiness, 81mustiness, and smells. Light ought therefore to be freely allowed to enter every house, and be esteemed as the most welcome of visitors. Let me then advise every young wife to admit into her dwelling an abundance of light, of air, and of sunshine.

144. Some ladies, to keep off the sun, to prevent it from fading the furniture, have, in the summer time, all the blinds of the windows of the house down. Hence they save the fading of their furniture, and, instead of which, they fade their own and their children’s cheeks. Many houses, with all their blinds down, look like so many prisons, or as if the inmates were in deep affliction, or as if they were performing penance; for is it not a penance to be deprived of the glorious light of day, which is as exhilarating to the spirits as, and much more beneficial than, a glass of champagne?

145. It is a grievous sin to keep out from a dwelling the glorious sunshine. We have heard of “a trap to catch a sunbeam:” let the open windows be a trap, and a more desirable prize cannot be caught than a sunbeam. Sunbeams, both physical and metaphorical, make a house a paradise upon earth!

146. Let me strongly caution the newly made wife against the evil effects of tight lacing. The waist ought, as a rule, to be from twenty-seven to twenty-nine inches in circumference; if, therefore, she bind and gird herself in until she be only twenty-three 82inches, and, in some cases, until she be only twenty-one inches, it must be done at the expense of comfort, of health, and happiness. If stays be worn tightly, they press down the contents of the lower part of the belly, which might either prevent a lady from having a family, or might produce a miscarriage.^[29]

147. Let her dress be loose, and be adapted to the season. She ought not to adopt the fashion of wearing in the morning warm clothes with long sleeves, and in the evening thin dresses with short sleeves. “It is hopeless to battle with fashion in matters of dress; women will never believe that their bonnets, neck-wrappers, or huge petticoats (until they go out of fashion) can have anything to do with headaches, sore throats, or rheumatism; but they ought to know that the more they swathe themselves, the more tender and delicate they are likely to be. If they wish to withstand cold, they should accustom themselves to bear it.”^[30]

83148. If a young wife be delicate, and if her circulation be languid, a flannel vest next the skin, and in the daytime, should, winter and summer, be worn. Scarlet is, in such a case, a favorite color, and may be selected for the purpose.

149. It is important that it should be borne in mind that the wearing of flannel next the skin is more necessary in the summer than in the winter time. A lady in the summer is apt, when hot, either from the weather or from exertion, to get into a draught to cool herself, and not wearing flannel next the skin, she is almost sure at such times to catch a cold. Now, flannel being a bad conductor of heat, keeps the body at a tolerably equal temperature, and thus materially lessens the risk. When it is considered that many of the diseases afflicting humanity arise from colds, the value of wearing flannel next the skin as a preventive is at once apparent.

150. Never was there such a time as the present when dress was so much thought of. Grand dresses now sweep our dirty streets and thoroughfares; rich velvets, silks, and satins are as plentiful as dead leaves in autumn. “There is so much to gaze and stare at in the dress, one’s eyes are quite dazzled and weary, and can hardly pierce through to that which is clothed upon.” Dress is become a crying evil; many ladies clothe themselves in gorgeous apparel at the expense of household comforts, and even of household necessaries:

84“We sacrifice to dress, till household joys

And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellars dry,

And keeps our larder lean—puts out our fires,

And introduces hunger, frost, and woe,

Where peace and hospitality might reign.”^[31]

151. It might be said, What has all this to do with the health of a wife? I reply, much. The customs, habits, and luxuries of the present day are very antagonistic both to health and fecundity.

152. She must not coddle, nor should she muffle up her throat with furs. Boas are the most frequent cause of sore throats and quinsies, and therefore the sooner they are discarded the better. “And this is perfectly true, though few seem to be aware of the fact. Relaxed throats would be rare if cold water was more plentifully used, both externally and internally, and mufflers were laid aside.”^[32]

153. If my gentle reader will freely use cold water ablutions, she will find that she will not require nearly so much clothing and muffling up. It is those who use so little water who have to wear so much clothing; and the misfortune of it is, the more clothes they wear the more they require. Many young people are wrapped and muffled up in the winter time like old folks, and by coddling they become prematurely old—frightened at a breath of air and at a shower of 85rain, and shaking in their shoes at an easterly wind! Should such things be?

154. Pleasure, to a certain degree, is as necessary to the health of a young wife, and every one else, as the sun is to the earth—to warm, to cheer, and to invigorate it, and to bring out its verdure. Pleasure, in moderation, rejuvenizes, humanizes, and improves the character, and expands and exercises the good qualities of the mind; but, like the sun, in its intensity it oppresseth drieth up, and withereth. Pleasures kept within due bounds are good, but in excess are utterly subversive of health and happiness. A wife who lives in a whirl of pleasure and excitement is always weakly and “nervous,” and utterly unfitted for her duties and responsibilities.

155. Let the pleasures of a newly-married wife, then, be dictated by reason, and not by fashion. She ought to avoid all recreations of an exciting kind, as depression always follows excitement. I would have her prefer the amusements of the country to those of the town, such as a flower-garden, botany, archery, croquet, bowls,—everything, in fact, that will take her into the open air, and will cause her to appreciate the pure, simple, and exquisite beauties of nature. Croquet I consider to be one of the best games ever invented: it induces a lady to take exercise which perhaps she would not otherwise do; it takes her into the open air, it strengthens her muscles, it expands her chest, it promotes digestion, it circulates her blood, and 86it gives her an interest in the game which is most beneficial both to mind and body.

156. Oh, that my countrywomen should prefer the contaminated and foul air of ball and of concert-rooms, to the fresh, sweet, and health-giving air of the country!

157. Let me in this place enter my strong protest against a young wife dancing, more especially if she be enceinte. If she be anxious to have a family, it is a most dangerous amusement, as it is a fruitful source of miscarriage; and the misfortune is, that if she once have a miscarriage, she might go on again and again, until her constitution be severely injured, and until all hopes of her ever becoming a mother are at an end.

158. The quiet retirement of her own home ought then to be her greatest pleasure and her most precious privilege. Home is, or ought to be, the kingdom of woman, and she should be the reigning potentate. England is the only place in the world that truly knows what home really means. The French have actually no word in their language to express its meaning:

“That home, the sound we English love so well,

Has been as strange to me as to those nations

That have no word, they tell me, to express it.”^[33]

87159. Cheerfulness, contentment, occupation, and healthy activity of mind cannot be too strongly recommended. A cheerful, happy temper is one of the most valuable attributes a wife can have. The possession of such a virtue not only makes herself, but every one around her, happy. It gilds with sunshine the humblest dwelling, and often converts an indifferent husband into a good one. Contentment is the finest medicine in the world; it not only frequently prevents disease, but, if disease be present, it assists in curing it. Happy is the man who has a contented wife! A peevish, discontented helpmate (helpmate, save the mark!) is always ailing, is never satisfied, and does not know, and does not deserve to know, what real happiness is. She is “a thorn in the flesh.”

160. One of the greatest requisites, then, for a happy home is a cheerful, contented, bright, and merry wife; her face is a perpetual sunshine, her presence is that of an angel; she is happy in herself, and she imparts happiness to all around her. A gentle, loving, confiding, placid, hopeful, and trusting disposition has a great charm for a husband, and ought, by a young wife, to be assiduously cultivated—

“For gentleness, and love, and trust

Prevail o’er angry wave and gust.”^[34]

161. Every young wife, let her station be ever so exalted, ought to attend to her household duties. Her 88health, and consequently her happiness, demand the exertion. The want of occupation—healthy, useful occupation—is a fruitful source of discontent, of sin,^[35] of disease, and barrenness. If a young married lady did but know the importance of occupation—how much misery might be averted, and how much happiness might, by attending to her household duties, be insured—she would appreciate the importance of the advice. Occupation improves the health, drives away ennui, cheers the hearth and home, and, what is most important, if household duties be well looked after, her house becomes a paradise, and she the ministering angel to her husband. But she might say—I cannot always be occupied; it bores me; it is like a common person: I am a lady; I was not made to work; I have neither the strength nor the inclination for it; I feel weak and tired, nervous and spiritless, and must have rest. I reply, in the expressive words of the poet, that—

“Absence of occupation is not rest,—

A mind quite vacant is a mind distress’d.”^[36]

“If time be heavy on your hands,” are there no household duties to look after, no servants to instruct, no flower-beds to arrange, no school children to teach, no sick-room to visit, no aged people to comfort, no widow nor orphan to relieve?—

89“Nor any poor about your lands?

Oh! teach the orphan boy to read,

Or teach the orphan girl to sew—

Pray Heaven for a human heart.”^[37]

162. To have nothing to do is most wretched, wearisome, and destructive to the mind. The words of Martin Luther on this subject should be written in letters of gold, and ought to be kept in constant remembrance by every man and woman, be they rich or poor, lettered or unlettered, gentle or simple. “The mind,” said he, “is like a mill that cannot stop working; give it something to grind, and it will grind that. If it has nothing to grind, it grinds on yet, but it is itself it grinds and wears away.”

163. A lady in this enlightened age of ours considers it to be horribly low and vulgar to strengthen her loins with exercise and her arms with occupation, although such a plan of procedure is recommended in the Bible by the wisest of men,—“She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengthened her arms.”^[38]

164. A husband soon becomes tired of grand performances on the piano, of crotchet and worsted work, and of other fiddle-faddle employments; but he can always appreciate a comfortable, clean, well-ordered, bright, cheerful, happy home, and a good dinner. It might be said that a wife is not the proper person to cook her 90husband’s dinner. True; but a wife should see and know that the cook does her duty; and if she did, perchance, understand how the dinner ought to be cooked, I have yet to learn that the husband would for such knowledge think any the worse of her.

165. A grazing farmer is three or four years in bringing a beast to perfection, fit for human food. Is it not a sin, after so much time and pains, for an idiot of a cook, in the course of one short hour or two, to ruin, by vile cookery, a joint of such meat? Is it not time, then, that a wife herself should know how a joint of meat ought to be cooked, and thus to be able to give instructions accordingly?

166. A boy is brought up to his profession, and is expected to know it thoroughly; how is it that a girl is not brought up to her profession of a wife; and why is it that she is not taught to thoroughly understand all household duties? The daughters of a gentleman’s family in olden time spent an hour or two every morning in the kitchen and in the laundry, and were initiated into the mysteries of pastry and pudding-making, of preserving fruit, of ironing, etc. Their mothers’ and their grandmothers’ receipt-books were at their finger-ends. But now look at the picture; the daughters of a gentleman’s family of the present day consider it very low and horridly vulgar to understand any such matters. It is just as absurd to ask a lady to play on the piano who has never been taught music as to ask a wife to direct her servants to perform duties which she 91herself knows nothing about. The duties of a wife cannot come either by intuition or by instinct more than music can. Again I say, every lady, before she be married, ought to be thoroughly taught her profession—the duties of a wife; she then would not be at the tender mercies of her servants, many of whom are either unprincipled or inefficient.

167. Do not think that I am overstating the importance of the subject. A good dinner—I mean a well-cooked dinner (which, be it ever so plain, is really a good dinner)—is absolutely essential to the health, to the very existence of yourself and your husband; and how, if it be left to the tender mercies of the present race of cooks, can you have it? High time it is that every wife, let her station be either high or low, should look into the matter herself, and remedy the crying evil of the day. They manage these things better in Sweden. There the young ladies of wealthy families cook—actually themselves cook—the dinners; and instead of their considering it a disgrace, and to be horridly low and vulgar, they look upon it as one of their greatest privileges! And what is the consequence? A badly-cooked dinner is rare, and not, as it frequently is in this country, of frequent occurrence; and “peace and happiness” reign triumphant. It is a pity, too, that we do not take a leaf out of the book of our neighbors the French. Every woman in France is a good cook; good cookery with them is the rule—with us it is the exception. A well-cooked dinner is a blessing to all who partake of it; it promotes digestion, it 92sweetens the temper, it cheers the hearth and home. There is nothing tries the temper more than an ill-cooked dinner; it makes people dyspeptic, and for a dyspeptic to be sweet-tempered is an utter impossibility. Let me, therefore, advise my fair reader to look well into the matter; either the gloom or the sunshine of a house much depends upon herself and upon her household management. It might be said—What a poor creature a man must be to require so much attention. Truly, if his health be not looked after, if his comforts be not attended to, he is indeed a poor creature!

168. Every young wife should be able—ought to be instructed by her mother or by some competent person—it should be a part of her education—to teach and to train her own servants aright. Unfortunately, in the present day there is too much cant and humbug about the instruction of the lower orders, and domestic servants among the rest. They are instructed in many things that are perfectly useless to them, the knowledge of which only makes them dissatisfied with their lot and tends to make them bad servants. Among other useless subjects taught them are the “ologies.” It would be much more to the purpose if they were thoroughly instructed in all household duties, and “in the three R’s—reading, ’riting, and ’rithmetic,”—in obedience to their mistresses, and in simplicity of demeanor and dress. The servants themselves would be immensely benefited by such lessons.

93169. A “blue-stocking” makes, as a rule, a wretched wife; it would be far better for the health of her husband, of herself, and her family, if, instead of cultivating Latin and Greek, she would cultivate her household duties, more especially a thorough knowledge of the culinary department. “A man is, in general, better pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table than when his wife speaks Greek.”^[39]

170. As soon as a lady marries, the romantic nonsense of school-girls will rapidly vanish, and the stern realities of life will take their place, and she will then know, and sometimes to her grievous cost, that a useful wife will be thought much more of than either an ornamental or a learned one.

171. It is better for a young wife, and for every one else, to have too much than too little occupation. The misfortune of the present day is, that servants are made to do all the work, while the mistress of the house remains idle. Remains idle! Yes; and by remaining idle, remains out of health! Idleness is a curse, and brings misery in its train! How slow the hours crawl on when a person has nothing to do; but how rapidly they fly when she is fully occupied! Besides, idleness is a frequent cause of barrenness. Hard-worked, industrious women are prolific; while idle ladies are frequently childless, or, if they do have a family, their children are puny, and their labors are usually both 94hard and lingering. We doctors know full well the difference there often is between the labor of a poor hard-worked woman and of a rich, idle lady: in the one case the labor is usually quick and easy; in the other, it is often hard and lingering. Oh, if wives would consider betimes the importance of an abundance of exercise and of occupation, what an immense amount of misery, of pain, of anxiety, and anguish they might avert! Work is a blessed thing; if we do not work we pay the penalty—we suffer “in mind, body, and estate.” An idle man or an idle woman is an object of the deepest pity and commiseration.

172. Longfellow, in his Song of the Blacksmith, beautifully and graphically describes the importance and the value of occupation; and as occupation is as necessary to a woman as to a man, I cannot resist transcribing it:

“Toiling—rejoicing—sorrowing,

Onward through life he goes;

Each morning sees some task begin,

Each evening sees its close;

Something attempted, something done,

Has earned a night’s repose.”

173. Truly may it be said that “occupation earns a night’s repose.” It is the finest composing medicine in the world, and, unlike an opiate, it never gives a headache; it never produces costiveness; and never, by repetition, loses its effect. Sloth and restlessness, even on down, are generally bed-fellows:

95“Weariness

Can snore upon the flint, when rusty sloth

Finds the down pillow hard.”

174. The mind, it is well known, exerts great influence over the body in promoting health, and in causing and in curing disease. A delicate woman is always nervous; she is apt to make mountains of molehills; she is usually too prone to fancy herself worse than she really is. I should recommend my gentle reader not to fall into this error, and not to magnify every slight ache or pain. Let her, instead of whining and repining, use the means which are within the reach of all to strengthen her frame; let her give battle to the enemy; let her fight him with the simple weapons indicated in these pages, and the chances are she will come off victorious.

175. There is nothing like occupation, active occupation, to cure slight pains—“constant occupation physics pain”—to drive away little ailments, and the dread of sickness. “The dread of sickness,” says Dr. Grosvenor, “is a distemper of itself, and the next disposition to a many more. What a bondage does this keep some people in! ’Tis an easy transition from the fear and fancy of being sick to sickness indeed. In many cases there is but little difference between those two. There is one so afraid of being ill that he would not stir out of doors, and for want of air and exercise he contracts a distemper that kills him.”

176. What a blessed thing is work! What a precious 96privilege for a girl to have a mother who is both able and anxious to instruct her daughter, from her girlhood upwards, in all household management and duties! Unfortunately, in this our age girls are not either educated or prepared to be made wives—useful, domesticated wives. Accomplishments they have without number, but of knowledge of the management of an establishment they are as ignorant as the babe unborn. Verily, they and their unfortunate husbands and offspring will in due time pay the penalty of their ignorance and folly! It is, forsooth, unladylike for a girl to eat much; it is unladylike for her to work at all; it is unladylike for her to take a long walk; it is unladylike for her to go into the kitchen; it is unladylike for her to make her own bed; it is unladylike for her to be useful; it is unladylike for her to have a bloom upon her cheek like unto a milkmaid!^[40] All these are said to be horridly low and vulgar, and to be only fit for the common people! Away with such folly! The system of the bringing up of the young ladies of the present day is “rotten to the core.”

177. If a young married lady, without having any actual disease about her, be delicate and nervous, there is no remedy equal in value to change of air—more especially to the sea-coast. The sea breezes, and, if she be not pregnant, sea-bathing, frequently act like 97magic upon her in restoring her to perfect health. I say, if she be not pregnant; if she be, it would, without first obtaining the express permission of a medical man, be highly improper for her to bathe.

178. A walk on the mountains is delightful to the feelings and beneficial to the health. In selecting a sea-side resort, it is always, where it be practicable, to have mountain-air as well as the sea breeze. The mounting of high hills, if a lady be pregnant, would not be desirable, as the exertion would be too great, and, if she be predisposed, might bring on a miscarriage; but the climbing of hills and mountains, if she be not enceinte, is most advantageous to health, strengthening the frame, and exhilarating to the spirits. Indeed, we may compare the exhilaration it produces to the drinking of champagne, with this difference,—it is much more beneficial to health than champagne, and does not leave, the next morning, as champagne sometimes does, either a disagreeable taste in the mouth or headache behind,—

“Oh, there is a sweetness in the mountain-air,

And life, that bloated ease can never hope to share!”^[41]

179. Bugs and fleas.—This is a very commonplace subject, but like most commonplace subjects is one necessary to be known, as these pests of society sometimes 98destroy the peace, comfort, and enjoyment of a person when away from home. Many ladies who travel from home are made miserable and wretched by having to sleep in strange beds—in beds infested either with bugs or with fleas. Now, it will be well for such ladies never to go any distance from home without having four things in their trunks with them, namely: (1) A box of matches, in order, at any moment of the night, to strike a light, both to discover and frighten the enemies away. (2) A box of night-lights. Bugs never bite when there is a light in the room. It would therefore be well, in an infested room, and until fresh lodgings can be procured, to keep a night-light burning all night. (3) A packet of “La Poudre Insecticide,” manufactured in France, but which may be procured in England: a preparation which, although perfectly harmless to the human economy, is utterly destructive to fleas. (4) A 4 oz. bottle of oil of turpentine, a little of which, in case of a discovery of bugs in the bed, should be sprinkled between the sheets and on the pillow. The oil of turpentine will, until fresh lodgings can be procured, keep the bugs at a respectful distance. Care should be observed while sprinkling the sheets with the turpentine not to have (on account of its inflammability) a lighted candle too near the bed. I know, from experience, that bugs and fleas are, when ladies are away from home, a source of torment and annoyance, and am therefore fully persuaded of the value and importance of the above advice.

180. If it be not practicable for her to visit the sea-coast, 99let her be in the fresh air—in the country air. Let her mornings be spent out of doors; and if she cannot inhale the sea breezes, let her inhale the morning breezes—

“The skies, the air, the morning’s breezy call

Alike are free, and full of health to all.”^[42]

181. Cheerfulness and evenness of temper ought, by a young wife, to be especially cultivated. There is nothing that promotes digestion, and thus good health, more than a cheerful, placid temper. We know that the converse is very detrimental to that process; that violent passion takes away the appetite, deranges the stomach, and frequently disorders the bowels. Hence it is that those who attain great ages are usually of an even, cheerful temper. “Our passions are compared to the winds in the air, which, when gentle and moderate, let them fill the sail, and they will carry the ship on smoothly to the desired port; but when violent, unmanageable, and boisterous, it grows to a storm, and threatens the ruin and destruction of all.”^[43]

182. A young wife is apt to take too much opening medicine; the more she takes, the more she requires. Hence she irritates the nerves of the stomach and bowels, and injures herself beyond measure. If the bowels are costive, and variety of food, and of fruit, and of other articles of diet, which I either have or will recommend in these pages, together with an 100abundance of air, and of exercise, and of occupation, will not open, then let her give herself an enema; which she can, without the slightest pain or annoyance, and with very little trouble, readily do, provided she has a proper apparatus for the purpose, namely, a “self-injecting enema apparatus,”—one made purposely for the patient, either to administer it to herself, or to be administered to her by another person. A pint of cold water is as good an enema as can be used, and which, if the first should not operate, ought in a few minutes to be repeated. The clyster does nothing more than wash the bowels out, removing any offending matter, and any depression of spirits arising therefrom, and neither interfering with the stomach nor with the digestion.

183. Until she become accustomed to the cold, she might for the first few mornings slightly warm the water; but gradually she should reduce the temperature of it until she use it quite cold. A cold water is more bracing and strengthening to the bowels, and more efficacious in action, than a warm water enema.

184. It will, during pregnancy and after a confinement, be safer to use a tepid than a cold water enema.

185. No family ought to be without a good enema apparatus, to fly to in any emergency. Many valuable lives have been saved by means of it, and having it always in good order and at hand.

101186. By adopting the dictates of reason and of common sense, many of the nervous, useless, lackadaisical, fine ladies will be unknown; and we shall have instead blooming wives, who will in due time become the mothers of hardy, healthy, happy children.

187. In the foregoing pages the burden of my song has been health—the preservation of health—the most precious of God’s gifts, and one that is frittered and fooled away as though it were but of little value. Health ought to be the first consideration of all, and of every young wife especially, as, when she is married, her life, her health is not altogether her own, but her husband’s and her family’s. Oh! it is a glorious gift, a precious boon, to be in the enjoyment of perfect health, and is worth a little care and striving for.

188. In concluding the first division of my subject, let me entreat my fair reader to ponder well on what I have already said; let her remember that she has a glorious mission; let her thoroughly understand that if good habits and good rules be not formed and followed during the first year of her wifehood, they are not at all likely to be instituted afterwards. The first year, then, is the golden opportunity to sow the seeds of usefulness; to make herself healthy and strong, and to cause her to be a blessing, a solace, and a comfort to her husband, her children, and all around her.

102189. Menstruation, during a period of about thirty years, plays a momentous part in the female economy; indeed, unless it be in every way properly and duly performed, it is neither possible that such a lady can be well, nor is it at all probable that she will conceive. I therefore purpose devoting an especial chapter to its due and careful consideration.

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