We should also avoid damp clothing about our beds or bed-rooms. A healthy person may get slightly wet in the early part of the day, and even remain wet for a short time, especially if he continues in action, without injury: but it is by no means safe to sit down, or lie down, in wet or damp clothing; and it is more unsafe to do so at the close of the day, than it is in the morning. A vast amount of disease—colds, rheumatism, fever and consumption—is generated or aggravated in this way.
What I have here said of the conditions of sleep, is sustained, as I have already informed the reader, by high authority; I mean that of Macnish. He says, further, that "the practice of having two or three beds in one room, and two or three individuals in each bed, must be deleterious;" and that wherever it is necessary for more than one person to sleep in a single bed, "they should take care to place themselves in such a position as not to breathe in each others' faces." He also alludes to the custom of covering the head with the bedclothes—and calls it, as he ought to do, "a dangerous custom."
Macnish also gives the following directions on this subject:
"Before going to bed, the body should be brought into that state, which gives us the surest chance of dropping speedily asleep. If too hot, its temperature ought to be reduced by cooling drinks, [Footnote: By cooling drinks. Macnish cannot surely mean drinks of a low temperature, for these would be somewhat injurious in the evening. He means by cooling, not heating or irritating.] exposure to the open air, sponging, or even the cold bath. If too cold, it must be brought into a comfortable state by warmth. For both cold and heat act as stimuli, and their removal is necessary before sleep can ensue.
"A full stomach, also, though it sometimes promotes, generally prevents sleep; consequently, supper ought to be dispensed with, except by those who, having been long used to this meal, cannot do without it. As a general rule, the person who eats nothing for two or three hours before going to rest, will sleep better than he who eats a late supper. His sleep will also be more refreshing; and his sensations upon awaking, much more gratifying."
The cold bath at going to bed, taken to reduce our heat, because we are too warm, is of rather doubtful utility. Some may use it with entire safety; but to the feeble, or those who have been greatly over-heated or over-fatigued, it would be hazardous.
By supper, Macnish means, no doubt, that fourth meal so common in fashionable life, and not the usual third meal at six o'clock Those who never heard of a fourth, have no occasion for caution on this subject, except it be in regard to quantity. This third meal, however, even when it is eaten three hours before going to bed, should be light.
In order to sleep properly, let all the conditions which I have mentioned be faithfully observed. Then to these let there be added a most strict and conscientious regard for the rule which I have suggested in the beginning of this chapter—which is, to rise early. Let no young woman be found in bed after day-light, in the longest days; nor in the winter, after four o'clock.
Some will say, that at this rate they should not get sleep enough during the night; and should, as a consequence, either be dull during their waking hours, or be obliged to take a nap in the day-time. But if our hard-laboring people who rise at four o'clock in the summer, find time enough to sleep—most of them—without a nap in the day-time, surely they whose labor is not so hard, can do it. They cannot, I well know, if they sit up till ten or eleven o'clock at night.
If any one desires to glorify God in every thing she does, let her attend to the conditions I have mentioned. If she finds that in rising at daylight she does not get sleep enough, let her go to bed a little earlier. We ought to sleep about as much before midnight as after; and she who goes to bed at eight, and rises at four, will be pretty sure to get sleep enough. Few if any persons over twelve years of age, need more than eight hours sleep; and the greater proportion not so much.
Here I will mention one thing which does not seem to be generally known. The more we sleep, if we increase our sleep by degrees, the more we may. How far the time for sleep may be thus extended, I do not know. There are, indeed, circumstances which may make the same individual require less or more sleep, independent of the habit of indulgence: still it is true, as a general fact, that we may sleep as much or as little as we please.
When we increase the hours of sleep, however, it does not follow that we actually sleep more in the same proportion. Let an active individual, who has been accustomed to six hours, suddenly confine herself to four. Will her actual sleep be abridged one third? By no means. Nature will endeavor to make up for the loss of time by inducing sounder sleep.
In this, however, she is only in part successful. For those who sleep so very soundly, often sleep too sound. We are sometimes conscious, when we awake from an over-sound sleep, that we are not well refreshed; but whether conscious of it or not, it is so. Macnish says—"That sleep from which we are easily roused, is the healthiest; very profound slumber partakes of the nature of apoplexy."
A person who, having been in the habit of sleeping six hours in twenty-four, suddenly reduces the number to four, will, probably, for a time, sleep as much in four hours as she slept before in about five, or five and a half. But the quality of these five or five and a half hours' sleep will be inferior, and continue so, unless she arouses herself to an increased activity of her intellectual powers, and reduces the quantity of her food and drink.
I have supposed it to be generally known, that we need the more sleep, or seem to need it, in proportion as our minds are less active, and our bodily appetites hold us more in subjection. The individual, male or female, who approaches most nearly to the more stupid lower animals in point of intelligence, activity and general habits, will actually seem to require the most sleep; and, on the contrary, in proportion as an individual rises above all this, and becomes exceedingly active in mind, body and spirit, will the necessity for sleep be greatly diminished. Some of the most elevated of the human race, in point of intelligence, benevolence, and benevolent activity or spirituality have required but very little sleep. Of this number were Wesley, Matthew Hale, Alfred the Great, Jeremy Taylor, Baxter, Bishops Jewel and Burnet, Dr. John Hunter, Dr. Priestly, and Sobieski—as well as Frederick the Great, Gen. Elliot, Lord Wellington, and Napoleon. Of the same number, too, are some of our modern missionaries—to say nothing of several distinguished statesmen, among whom is Lord Brougham.
In view of these considerations, is there one of my readers, who, while she endeavors to sleep enough to answer every valuable purpose of her existence, on penalty of more or less suffering, will not guard, with the same assiduity, against sleeping too much? Aware that the more she indulges herself, the more she may, because she will become by so much the more stupid—and that the more she denies herself sleep, provided it is not to such an extent that her sleep becomes apoplectic, the more will her intellectual powers be developed and acquire the ascendency, and her animal nature be brought into subjection—will she not exert herself to the utmost, and pray for aid from on high, in striving to gain the victory over herself—her lower self—her animal self—and thus increase the duration and value of her existence?
I do not urge the consideration of the great amount of time, merely, which may be saved by rising early. Some have attempted to show that they who rise two hours earlier every morning than usual, gain an amount of time in sixty years—viz., from the age of ten to that of seventy—equal to about seven years of active life. Is it not obvious that there may be mistake here? For if she who rises two hours earlier, goes to bed as much earlier at right, no time is saved at all. And if without going to bed any earlier, she is rendered so much more dull or sleepy during the day, that she loses two hours, or even one, this will form a proportional deduction from her supposed gain. It is she only, who, while she sleeps all which her nature really demands, and takes care not to exceed the demand, succeeds also in lessening the demand itself, that is the real gainer.
It is a pitiable sight to see an immortal being, made in the image of Almighty God, and capable, by divine aid, of enjoying Him forever, rendering himself sleepy, brutish, or besotted, by the form of indulgence of which I am now speaking. And it seems to me still more pitiable—indeed, absolutely disgusting—to see females doing this; and especially, intelligent young women!
I wish every reader would take this subject of wasting time in sleep into serious, and conscientious, and prayerful consideration. Let her remember that her time is not hers, any more than she herself is her own; that both are "bought with a price"—an amazing price, too! How can she, then, waste time-a single moment of it? Yet people will do it. Hundreds, and thousands, and millions, will do it. Some will do it—many, I fear—who have professed the Christian name, and who believe that they bear in their bodies the marks of their dying Lord and Master.
I will close this chapter by briefly summing up what has been said. Let your sleep be in the night; not in the day-time. Let it be, moreover, in the middle of the night, as much as possible. To sit up till near midnight, and to get up just after midnight, are perhaps equally injurious, though not by any means equally common. Spend the close of each day at home; and go to bed early, with an empty or nearly an empty stomach, a cheerful temper, a quiet mind, and a good conscience. Let the air be pure, yourself pure, your clothing and bed simple and cool, and your room also cool. Wake with the first rays of the morning in summer, and about the same hour in winter. Get up as soon as you awake; and if your sleep has been insufficient, go to rest a little earlier the succeeding evening. Thus will you at once discharge your duty, and obtain peace here and hereafter.
CHAPTER XXII
INDUSTRY
Education to industry. Man naturally a lacy animal. Indolence in females. Hybernation. Every young woman ought to be trained to support herself, should necessity require it, and to aid in supporting others. She should, at least, be always industrious. Kinds of labor. Mental labor as truly valuable as bodily.
What ordinary virtue is there more commendable in the young, than industry? On this account, and in this view it is, that well disposed parents sometimes employ their children in a way not absolutely, or in itself, useful to them, for the sake of the general habit. Such parents are certainly excusable, even if their example should not be regarded as commendable, or as worthy of being followed.
Dr. Good, the well known theological, philosophical and medical writer, avows the belief that man is naturally lazy; that he would not so much as lift a finger if he could help it; and that all his activity grows out of a desire to avoid present or future suffering, or pain. Perhaps this is carrying the matter rather too far; since we see young children positively active, not so much from the desire of avoiding pain, as from that of procuring pleasure. But however untrue it may be in regard to children, it is unquestionably true of many adults; and of some, it is to be feared, of both sexes.
Of all lazy persons, however, I dislike most to see a lazy young woman. Destined by her Creator at once to charm, instruct and improve the world around her, by her looks, her words and her actions—and this to a degree which no female has ever yet attained—how exceedingly painful is it to see her floating along the stream of inaction or insignificance, without making one considerable effort to arouse her faculties—bodily, mental and moral—from their half dormant condition.
Too many females who are trained in the bosom of ease and abundance, have no idea of any attempts at benevolent effort, or even of active, untiring industry. If they are not more selfish than the other sex, they are scarcely less so. They live but for themselves, and seem to desire no more. Granting, as we sometimes do, that this is the fault of their education, is it therefore the less pitiable?
I have already urged the importance of self-dependence. Every healthy young woman ought to be so trained, as to be able to make her own way through the world without becoming at all its debtor. I speak now not merely of her moral, and intellectual, and domestic efforts, but also of her physical ones. I care not what her rank or condition may be; every American young woman ought to be able, in the common language of the community; to support herself through life.
I must insist on even more than this. She ought to be able, in point of bodily efficiency, to do something for the support of others; and not merely something, but a great deal. I am not ignorant of the low rate of female wages—disproportioned, altogether so, to their comparative value in the scale of human happiness. And yet, with all necessary abatements, I hold that all healthy females ought to be able to support themselves, should necessity require it, and to aid in supporting others.
Whether, however, their labor supports themselves, or more than does it, is not so much the question, as whether they are truly industrious.
An aged woman, who at ninety was often found at her spinning wheel, and always at active employment—though by no means indigent—was accustomed to say, that every person ought to strain every nerve to get property as long as life lasts, as a matter of duty. I would not say quite so much as this; but I do say that every person, no matter what may be her rank or circumstances, ought to be industrious, from early life to the last moment. Such a person, male or female, will seldom want means of support, and even of distributing "to him that needeth;" but should such a thing happen, it is of no very great importance. She will at least die with the consciousness of having spent her life in active industry, and of having benefited somebody, though she may have spent less on herself.
As to the kind of labor or exercise in which females ought to engage, I have perhaps said enough already. I will only add, that I consider a person as industrious, and as truly worthy of reward—I mean pecuniary reward—in performing valuable mental or moral labor a part of her time, as she who is engaged the whole time with her hands; and I know of no propriety in the custom which has led to the valuation of things by a different standard. I know of no reason, for example, why a young woman who, as a sister, or as a daughter, or as a friend merely, contributes, by wise management, to keep an aged parent or an infant child, or any other person, happy—though it were only by cheerful conversation, or by relating stories fore an hour or so, occasionally—I know not, I say, why she is not as truly entitled to the rewards of industry, as though she were employed in furnishing bread or clothing to the same persons. Are the affections, and passions, and knowledge, and excellence, of less value than the rewards of manual labor, in money or property? And is not mental or spiritual labor at least as valuable as bodily?
CHAPTER XXIII
VISITING
Is there no time for relaxation? May there not be passive enjoyments? Passive enjoyments sometimes wrong. How Christian visits should be conducted. Duty and pleasure compatible. Passive visits useful to childhood. Folly of morning calls and evening parties. Bible doctrine of visiting Abuse of visiting.
But is a young woman to be always actively employed? Is not time to be allotted her for mere passive enjoyments? May she never unbend her mind from what is called duty? May she never lay herself, as it were, on the bosom of her family and friends? May she never seat herself on the living green, amid roses and violets, or on the mossy bank studded with cresses or cowslips, and laved by the crystal stream? May she never view the silver fish as he leaps up, and "dumbly speaks the praise of God?" May she never wander abroad for the sake of wandering, or ride for the sake of riding; or gaze on the blue ethereal by day, or the star-spangled canopy by night?
Far be it from me to say any such thing; for I know not to whom such exercises, as such exercises merely, may or may not be necessary. That they may be useful to many, cannot be doubted; but that they are far from being useful, or even innocent, to all, is quite as certain.
It is certain, I say, that mere passive exercises are not only unnecessary with many, but sometimes wrong. The young woman who is trained, or who has commenced training herself, on truly Christian principles, and who enjoys a tolerable measure of health, will hardly find special seasons of this sort necessary or desirable. She will find sufficient relaxation amid the routine of active life and her daily occupations, and in her labors of love and charity.
The society, of sisters, brothers, parents, grand-parents—of companions, indeed, of every sort with whom she mingles, at home or at school—will afford her, at times, every enjoyment, even of the passive sort, which she really needs; or which, if she has the true spirit of Christ, she will heartily desire. In her duties to these—nay, even in her very duties to herself—in the kitchen, the garden or the field, she will have ample opportunity of descanting on the beauties and glories of the animal and vegetable world, and on the wonders of the starry heavens. In pruning, and watering, and weeding the vines and plants, she may drink in as much as she pleases of the living green, as well as feast her eyes, anon, on the blue expanse; and in her walks of charity and mercy, whether alone or in company with others, she may also receive the nectar of heaven, as it glistens and invites from Nature's own cup, in as rich draughts as if she were merely lounging, and seeking for pleasure—nay, even in richer ones, by as much as active exercise of body and mind, gives her the better mental and physical appetite.
It is one of the strongest proofs that we have a benevolent Creator at the head of the world in which we live, that he has made duty and enjoyment perfectly compatible, so that in pursuing the pathway of the former, we almost inevitably make sure of the latter; and it is also equally remarkable, if not an equally strong proof of benevolence, that in seeking enjoyment, as such, without seeking it in the path of duty, we seldom find it—or if found, it is but half enjoyed.
There is nothing in this world—or hardly any thing, to say the least—which should be done for the mere sake of doing it. We labor not for the sake of laboring, alone; we eat not, and we drink not, for the sake, merely, of eating and drinking—at least we should not, would we obtain the whole benefit of eating and drinking; nor should we even amuse ourselves for the sake alone of the amusement. Double ends are often secured by single means; nay, almost always so. I speak now of the woman, and not of the infant or the child.
Social visits among friends and neighbors, for the mere sake of the passive enjoyment they afford in the earliest years of infancy, may do exceedingly well as a preparation for the more active and more truly Christian visits of maturer years and later life. They are useful in elevating ourselves and others to a state where such visiting is not so needful to our happiness.
As to many forms of visiting current among us—such as morning calls, evening parties, and calls of any sort which answer none of the real purposes of visiting—tending neither to make ourselves or any body else wiser or better, but, on the contrary, to make society worse, indirectly—I have never found any apology for them which seemed to me sufficient to satisfy a rational, intelligent, immortal spirit. To come together late in the evening, just to eat and drink together that which ought not to be eaten and drunk at all—or if at all, certainly not at such an hour; to hold conversation an hour or two under the influence of some sort of excitement, physical or moral, got up for the occasion, on topics which are of little comparative importance—of which the most valuable part often is, the inquiry, How do you do? and the consequent replies to it; to trifle the time away till ten, eleven or twelve o'clock, and then go home through the cold, damp atmosphere, perhaps thinly clad, to suffer that night for want of proper and sufficient sleep, and the next day from indigestion, and a thousand other evils; what can be more truly pitiable, not to say ridiculous! Nor is the practice of putting on a new dress—or one which, if not new, we are quite willing to exhibit—and of going to see our neighbors, and staying just long enough to ask how they do, say a few stale or silly things, and prove an interruption and a nuisance, and then going elsewhere—a whit more justifiable, in beings made in the image of God, and who are to be accountable at his eternal bar.
Let it not be said that I disapprove of visiting, entirely. One of the grounds of condemnation at the final day, is represented in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, as being—"Ye visited me not;" that is, did not visit in the name and for the sake of the Judge, those whom God has made it a duty no less than a privilege to visit. And can I set myself, with impunity, against that which my Saviour has encouraged, and yet pretend to be one of his followers? What would be more presumptuous? I am not an enemy to visiting, if done with a view to glorify God in the benefit of mankind. Let young women visit, indeed, but lot it be done in a way which will be approved by the Saviour and Judge. But there may be dissipation in the garb of visiting; and it is still oftener nothing more than the garb of indolence.
It is not visiting, but visiting without a definite or important purpose, to which I object. It is not visiting itself, but the abuse of visiting. Celestial spirits, for aught we know, are much employed in visiting—and shall not man be so? Are we to belong to their society hereafter, and yet not be their associates? Are we to associate with them, and yet remain solitaries? Could such a thing be? Is not man, here and hereafter—as I have already insisted—a social being? And if so, shall not his social nature and social powers be early and successfully developed and cultivated? Let our visits but promote the purposes of benevolence, and nothing can, with propriety, be said against them. I would wage no war on this point, except with selfishness.