What a Young Woman Ought to Know
by Mary Wood-Allen · English · Gutenberg #28458 · 354,664 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: What a Young Woman Ought to Know
Author: Mary Wood-Allen
Release date: March 30, 2009 [eBook #28458]
Most recently updated: January 4, 2021
Language: English
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Commendations
from Eminent
Men & Women
_What
A Young Woman
Ought to Know_
COMMENDED BY REV. F.B. MEYER
The Eminent English Preacher and Author
[Illustration: REV. F.B. MEYER, B.A.]
Minister of Christ Church, Westminster, London,
Author of "Israel, A Prince with
God," "Elijah; Tried by Fire," "The
Bells of Is," etc., etc.
"The questions which are dealt with in the 'Self and Sex Series'
of books are always being asked, and if the answer is not
forthcoming from pure and wise lips it will be obtained through
vicious and empirical channels. I therefore greatly commend this
series of books, which are written lucidly and purely, and will
afford the necessary information without pandering to unholy and
sensual passion. I should like to see a wide and judicious
distribution of this literature among Christian circles."
COMMENDED BY CHARLES M. SHELDON
The Eminent American Preacher and Author
[Illustration: CHARLES M. SHELDON, D.D.]
Pastor of Central Congregational Church,
Topeka, Kansas; author of "In His Steps,"
"The Crucifixion of Philip Strong,"
"Lend a Hand," "Born
to Serve."
"It is a pleasure to call attention to the books of the 'Self and
Sex Series' which have been prepared with great wisdom for the
express purpose of teaching the truth concerning the subjects
which are painfully neglected."
COMMENDED BY MRS. M.W. SEWALL
The Eminent American Educator
[Illustration: MRS. MAY WRIGHT SEWALL]
Principal of the Girls' Classical School;
former President of the International Council
of Women; and Nominee of the International
Congress of Women.
"I am profoundly grateful that a subject of such information to
young women should be treated in a manner at once so noble and so
delicate that any pure-minded teacher or mother may read or
discuss its pages with young girls without the slightest chance
of wounding the most delicate sensibilities, or by being
misunderstood."
COMMENDED BY MRS. M.L. DICKINSON
The Eminent American Christian Worker
[Illustration: MRS. MARY LOWE DICKINSON]
Former President of the National Council of
Women; General Secretary of the Order of
The King's Daughters; Emeritus Professor
of Literature Denver University;
Editor of "The Silver Cross;" Author
of "The Temptation of
Katharine Gray," "One
Little Life,"
etc., etc.
"Any young woman, knowing all that this volume teaches, has an
essential foundation for whatever other knowledge she may
acquire."
COMMENDED BY MRS. M.B. CARSE
The Eminent American Christian Worker
[Illustration: MRS. MATILDA B. CARSE]
Founder of the Woman's Temple, Chicago.
"As a mother, I can truly say that my heart goes out to you in
endorsement of this book. It is pure and instructive on the
delicate subjects that mean so much to our daughters, to their
future as home-keepers, wives and mothers, and to the future
generations. It can but create a more reverent ideal of life in
every girl who reads it, and I wish every daughter in the land
could reap of its benefit."
COMMENDED BY MRS. E.C. STANTON
The Eminent American Lecturer and Author
[Illustration: MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON]
Noted Woman Suffragist, Lecturer
and Author.
"Your books I consider a valuable addition to the literature of
the day on social ethics. The many facts you state are not only
important for a knowledge of social science, but involve good
health and morals."
COMMENDED BY MR. C.N. CRITTENTON
The Eminent American Philanthropist
[Illustration: CHARLES N. CRITTENTON]
Founder of the National Florence Crittenton
Mission
"The frequent excuse which parents give for not enlightening
their children on these most important points is that they have
never known how to do so. This excuse can no longer be considered
valid.
"Dr. Wood-Allen has a remarkable gift in the facility and
refinement with which she is able to approach the most delicate
subject without arousing a single morbid and sensitive impulse."
COMMENDED BY MRS. H. CAMPBELL
The Eminent American Author and Educator
[Illustration: MRS. HELEN CAMPBELL]
Dean of the Department of Household Economics
in the Kansas State Agricultural
College. Author of "Prisoners of
Poverty," "Wage Earners,"
etc., etc.
"I cannot speak too warmly of your invaluable series. There is
hardly a woman in America so thoroughly qualified by education,
long experience, deep sympathies, and, most excellent of all
gifts, as deep common sense, as Dr. Mary Wood-Allen, to meet the
growing need, or rather the growing sense of need. Mothers and
fathers alike will be helped and enlightened by these simple,
clear-phrased, wholesome books, and they deserve all the success
already their own."
COMMENDED BY L.M.N. STEVENS
The Eminent Temperance Worker
[Illustration: MRS. LILLIAN M.N. STEVENS]
President of National Woman's Christian
Temperance Union.
"I consider the book 'What a Young Wife Ought to Know' a wise and
safe teacher. It is a careful and delicate presentation of vital
truths which have to do with the happiness and welfare of home
life."
COMMENDED BY EMINENT AMERICAN
AUTHORS AND EDITORS
MARGARET WARNER MORLEY
Author of "The Song of Life," "Life and Love,"
"The Bee People," etc.
"There is an awful need for the book, and it does what it has
undertaken to do better than anything of the kind I have ever
read. You may rely upon me to make it known wherever I can."
ELISABETH ROBINSON SCOVIL
Superintendent of the Newport Hospital, and
Associate Editor of the Ladies' Home Journal;
Author of "The Care of Children," etc.
"'What a Young Woman Ought to Know' is characterized by purity of
tone and delicacy of treatment.
"It is one which a mother can place with confidence in the hands
of her daughter. Reverent knowledge is the surest safeguard of
innocence, and it is every mother's duty to see that the young
girl committed to her charge is duly forearmed by being forewarned
of the dangers that lie around her."
Pure Books on Avoided Subjects
_Books for Men_
_By Sylvanus Stall, D.D._
"What a Young Boy Ought to Know."
"What a Young Man Ought to Know."
"What a Young Husband Ought to Know."
"What a Man of 45 Ought to Know."
_Books for Women_
_By Mrs. Mary Wood-Allen, M.D.
And Mrs. Emma F.A. Drake, M.D._
"What a Young Girl Ought to Know."
"What a Young Woman Ought to Know."
"What a Young Wife Ought to Know."
"What a Woman of 45 Ought to Know."
PUBLISHED BY
IN THE UNITED STATES
THE VIR PUBLISHING COMPANY
200-214 N. Fifteenth Street Philadelphia
IN ENGLAND
THE VIR PUBLISHING COMPANY
4 Imperial Bldgs., Ludgate Circus, London, E.C.
IN CANADA
RYERSON PRESS
Cor. Queen and John Streets, Toronto, Ontario
[Illustration: MRS. MARY WOOD-ALLEN, M.D.]
NEW REVISED EDITION
_Self and Sex Series_
WHAT A YOUNG
WOMAN
OUGHT TO KNOW
BY
MRS. MARY WOOD-ALLEN, M.D.
National Superintendent of the Purity
Department Woman's Christian Temperance
Union; Author of "What a Young Girl
Ought to Know," "Marvels of Our Bodily
Dwelling," "Child Confidence Rewarded,"
"Teaching Truth," "Almost a Man,"
"Almost a Woman."
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA, PA.: 200-214 N. FIFTEENTH STREET
THE VIR PUBLISHING COMPANY
LONDON: TORONTO:
4 IMPERIAL BUILDINGS, THE RYERSON PRESS,
LUDGATE CIRCUS, E.C. QUEEN AND JOHN STREETS.
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY SYLVANUS STALL
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England.
Protected by International copyright in Great Britain
and all her colonies and possessions, including India
and Canada, and, under the provisions of the Berne
Convention in Germany, Belgium, Denmark, Spain
and her colonies, France, including Algeria and the
French colonies, Haiti, Italy, Japan, Luxembourg,
Monaco, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, and Tunis.
_All rights reserved_
[PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES]
Copyright, 1889, by SYLVANUS STALL
Copyright, 1905, by SYLVANUS STALL
TO
THE DAUGHTER DEAR,
WHOSE INTIMATE AND CONFIDENTIAL COMPANIONSHIP FROM
CHILDHOOD TO WOMANHOOD HAS MADE IT POSSIBLE
FOR ME TO FEEL A SYMPATHETIC INTEREST IN
THE LIFE-PROBLEMS OF ALL GIRLS, THIS
BOOK IS MOST LOVINGLY
DEDICATED
BY HER
MOTHER
CONTENTS.
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
WHAT ARE YOU WORTH?
PAGE
The first great lesson to learn, your own importance--Probably
twelve million young women in the United States--What it means
for one of them to be sick--Woman's work in the world--The
using of spiritual forces--How much are you worth to your
home, to the community, to the state, to the nation, to the
race? 21
CHAPTER II.
CARE OF BODY.
Your body is your dwelling--It expresses you--We can judge of
character by the external appearance--The body also an
instrument and should be taken care of--Not "fussy" to take
care of it in youth--We should prepare for life 27
CHAPTER III.
FOOD.
A desire for health creates a desire to know how to obtain
it--The question of diet--We eat to repair waste and to supply
new material--Overstudy less a cause of illness than wrong
eating--Tea and coffee not foods--Alcoholic beverages
interfere with digestion--Dyspepsia produced by worry--We
should give ourselves to our friends--Young women should study
scientific cookery 33
CHAPTER IV.
SLEEP.
Every thought, activity, or motion causes expenditure of
force--In sleep the energy restored--Amount of sleep
needed--Effect of sleeplessness--Causes of unrefreshing
sleep--Ventilation of sleeping rooms--Beauty sleep 39
CHAPTER V.
BREATHING.
How often we breathe--What is accomplished by
breathing--Office of oxygen in the blood--Breathing our
measure of ability--Breathing gymnastics, their
value--Importance of the diaphragm in breathing 47
CHAPTER VI.
HINDRANCES TO BREATHING.
Effect of sitting attitudes--How to counteract this--Wrong
positions in standing--Restrictions of clothing--Rule for the
tightness of clothing--Why tight dresses may feel comfortable 55
CHAPTER VII.
ADDED INJURIES FROM TIGHT CLOTHING.
The effect upon the heart--Danger of exercising in tight
dress--Effect of tight clothing upon the kidneys, upon the
liver, stomach, and bowels--How the bowels are held in the
abdomen--Influence of tight clothing upon the pelvic
organs--Upon the circulation--A tapering waist a deformity 61
CHAPTER VIII.
EXERCISE.
The purpose of physical culture--Balance between waste and
supply--Gymnastic dress a necessity--Value of
housework--Bicycle riding--Dancing--Skating--Lawn
tennis--Running up and down stairs--Bathing 69
CHAPTER IX.
BATHING.
Beauty of complexion--Condition of skin indicates condition of
digestive organs--Pimples--Constipation--Thermal bath--Foot
bath--Time to bathe--Daily baths--The use of
soaps--Wrinkles--Care of the hands 77
PART II.
CHAPTER X.
CREATIVE POWER.
We have Godlike powers: reason, imagination, conferring
life--Organs of individual life same in both
sexes--Differences between the sexes in size--Dignity of man 87
CHAPTER XI.
BUILDING BRAINS.
Babies born deaf, dumb, blind and helpless--The activities of
the baby build its brains--Our brains develop through
cultivation of the senses--Certain areas of brain govern
certain movements of body--Can learn how to build up any part
of brain--Professor Gates' experiments in training
dogs--Creation of habits--Effects of malevolent passions, such
as anger, worry, etc. 93
CHAPTER XII.
YOU ARE MORE THAN BODY OR MIND.
You are neither body nor mind, you are spirit--Your
relationship to God--God's obligation to us--Our obligation to
Him--God's school--His method of teaching us. 99
CHAPTER XIII.
SPECIAL PHYSIOLOGY.
Differences between boys and girls--Boys need our
sympathy--The crisis in the girl's life--Sex in
mind--Description of the sex organs 105
CHAPTER XIV.
BECOMING A WOMAN.
All life from an egg--The human egg--Menstruation--Girls may
injure themselves through ignorance--Value of sex. 113
CHAPTER XV.
ARTIFICIALITIES OF CIVILIZED LIFE.
Menstruation should be painless--Dr. Mary Jacobi's
opinion--Dr. Emmett on the artificial life of young women. 119
CHAPTER XVI.
SOME CAUSES OF PAINFUL MENSTRUATION.
Woman not necessarily a semi-invalid--Effects of wrong
clothing on the young girl--Evils of novel reading--Evils of
constipation--Congestions produced by displacements--Serious
results of abdominal displacements--Value of abdominal
bandage--How to make one--How to wear it--Effects of wrong
attitude--Standing on one foot--Correct attitude. 123
CHAPTER XVII.
FEMALE DISEASES.
Displacements of uterus--Leucorrhea--Patent medicines--Honest
physicians--Sitz baths for reducing congestions--Age at which
menstruation first appears--Non-menstruation and
consumption--Mechanical hindrances to menstruation--
Suppression--Scanty flow--Profuse flow--Treatment. 135
CHAPTER XVIII.
CARE DURING MENSTRUATION.
No long walks or rides--May pursue usual avocations--If pain,
keep quiet--Do not use alcoholics of any kind--Use of
heat--Use of cold--Should you bathe at this time--Arrangement
of clothing and napkins--Mental serenity. 145
CHAPTER XIX.
SOLITARY VICE.
Its results--Causes--Lack of cleanliness--Pin-worms--All
functions attended with pleasure--Sex not low--Its development
accompanied by increased power--How overcome the bad
habit?--Remove causes of pelvic congestions--Train the
senses--Study clouds, leaves, shapes, birds, etc. 151
CHAPTER XX.
BE GOOD TO YOURSELF.
What is real fun--The effects of a wrong idea of
fun--Flirtations--Familiarities--Criticism of girls by young
men--Class of girls who are most respected--Responsibility of
girls--The conduct of a pure woman the safeguard of man. 159
CHAPTER XXI.
FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN BOYS AND GIRLS.
The meaning of friendship--Mother the girl's wisest
confidante--Kissing--Friendship between brothers and
sisters--Platonic friendships--The value of noble
companionship. 169
CHAPTER XXII.
FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN GIRLS.
Gushing girls--Manly friendships--The highest type of
friendship--To love truly is to grow strong by true giving. 177
CHAPTER XXIII.
EXERCISES.
Correct dressing--To overcome curvature--Round shoulders--To
strengthen the back--To develop the chest--Abdominal
muscles--To restore displaced organs. 181
CHAPTER XXIV.
RECREATIONS.
Walking--Running--Riding--Skating--Rowing--Cycling--Tennis--
Swimming--Skipping--Dancing--Card-playing--Theatre-going. 187
PART III.
CHAPTER XXV.
LOVE.
Different ideas of different people--Much that is called love
is selfishness--Love at first sight--Present conditions of
society unnatural--Parents unwilling to teach their children,
yet permit flirtations, etc.--What is love?--One word to
express different phases of regard--Love of man and
woman--Love should include mental congeniality, spiritual
sympathy and physical attraction--Young people should have
opportunity to get acquainted--Comradeship of young
people--Love is a growth. 199
CHAPTER XXVI.
RESPONSIBILITY IN MARRIAGE.
Who is the young man?--What are his antecedents, his talents,
his habits?--What sort of a family does he belong to?--The
wife marries her husband's family--Girls should know this--A
mother's privilege. 209
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE LAW OF HEREDITY.
A strange will--Should study the law of inheritance--Plant
heredity--Race heredity--National characteristics--Individual
inheritance--We are composite photographs--The law of heredity
a beneficial law--Transmission of evil a warning--Bad tempers
inherited--Atavism. 215
CHAPTER XXVIII.
HEREDITARY EFFECTS OF ALCOHOL, TOBACCO, ETC.
Alcoholism produces nerve degeneration--Tight lacing may have
the same result--Nerve degeneracy may lead to
alcoholism--Idiocy and inebriety increasing--Effects of
wine--Evils of patent medicines--Inebriety of parents entails
injury on offspring--Folly of marrying a man to reform
him--Hereditary effects of morphine, chloral, etc.--Dangers of
the tobacco habit--Inherited effects of tobacco. 223
CHAPTER XXIX.
EFFECTS OF IMMORALITY ON THE RACE.
The law of God not a double law--The inherited effects of
immorality--Millions die annually from its effects--
Transmitted to child or wife--Contamination through a kiss. 235
CHAPTER XXX.
THE GOSPEL OF HEREDITY.
Inheritance of good so universal that we fail to think of
it--Mercy shown to thousands of generations--Heredity not
fatality--Effects of education transmitted--Experiments of
Professor Gates on dogs--A divine inheritance. 241
CHAPTER XXXI.
REQUISITES OF A HUSBAND.
What is the young man's inheritance?--What are his
ideas?--What is his estimate of woman?--What are his
defects?--Are there adequate reasons why some should not
marry?--May not married people be happy without children--A
girl should know something of the personal habits of her
future husband--Should consider her own personal habits--How
freely may young people talk together? 247
CHAPTER XXXII.
ENGAGEMENTS.
Becoming engaged for fun--May not engaged young people throw
aside restrictions?--Long engagements--The benefits of an
engagement--Evils of a long engagement--Engagement a time of
preparation--Sexual attraction not limited to local
expression--Duty of the engaged young woman to her own
family--Jealousy the quintessence of selfishness--Trust a
suggestion to be true--Common sense needed in marriage--Hold
your lover to the highest ideals. 255
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE WEDDING.
Folly of preparing an elaborate trousseau--The way of one
sensible girl--The wedding gifts--Bridal tours--The realities
of wedded life. 267
PREFACE.
During a number of years it has been my privilege to be the confidante
and counsellor of a large number of young women of various stations in
life and in all parts of the United States.
These girls have talked freely with me concerning their plans,
aspirations, fears and personal problems. It has been a great
revelation to me to note with what unanimity they ask certain
questions concerning conduct--queries which perhaps might astonish the
mothers of those same girls, as they, doubtless, take it for granted
that their daughters intuitively understand these fundamental laws of
propriety.
The truth is that many girls who have been taught in the "ologies" of
the schools, who have been trained in the conventionalities of
society, have been left to pick up as they may their ideas upon
personal conduct, and, coming face to face with puzzling problems, are
at a loss, and perhaps are led into wrong ways of thinking and
questionable ways of doing because no one has foreseen their dilemma
and warned them how to meet it.
The subjects treated in this little book are discussed because every
one of them has been the substance of a query propounded by some girl
otherwise intelligent and well informed. They have been treated
plainly and simply because they purport to be the frank conferences of
a mother and daughter, between whom there can be no need of hesitation
in dealing frankly with any question bearing on the life, health or
happiness of the girl. There is therefore no need of apology; the book
is its own excuse for being, the queries of the young women demand
honest answers.
Life will be safer for the girl who understands her own nature and
reverences her womanhood, who realizes her responsibility towards the
human race and conducts herself in accordance with that realization.
Life will be nobler and purer in its possession and its transmission,
if, from childhood onward to old age, the thought has been held that
"Life is a gift of God and is divine," and its physical is no less
sacred than its mental or moral manifestation; if it has been
understood that the foundations of character are laid in the habits
formed in youth, and that a noble girlhood assures a grand maturity.
Dear girls who read this book, the mother-heart has gone out to you
with great tenderness with every line herein written, with many an
unspoken prayer that you will be helped, uplifted, inspired by its
reading, and made more and more to feel
"A sacred burden is this life ye bear.
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly;
Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly;
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,
But onward, upward, till the goal ye win."
MARY WOOD-ALLEN.
ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN.
PART I.
THE VALUE OF HEALTH, AND RESPONSIBILITY IN MAINTAINING IT.
WHAT A YOUNG WOMAN OUGHT TO KNOW.
CHAPTER I.
WHAT ARE YOU WORTH?
MY DAUGHTER DEAR:
When I see you with your young girl friends, when I look into your
bright faces and listen to your merry laughter and your girlish
chatter, I wonder if any one of you understands how much you are
worth. Now you may say, "I haven't any money in the bank, I have no
houses or land, I am worth nothing," but that would only be detailing
what you possess. It is not what you possess but what you are that
determines what you are worth. One may possess much wealth and be
worth very little.
I was reading the other day that the first great lesson for a _young
man_ to learn, the first fact to realize, is that he is of some
importance; that upon his wisdom, energy and faithfulness all else
depends, and that the world cannot get along without him. Now if this
is true of young men, I do not see why it is not equally true of young
women.
It is not after you have grown old that you will be of value to the
world; it is now, in your young days, while you are laying the
foundation of your character, that you are of great importance. We
cannot say that the foundation is of no importance until the building
is erected, for upon the right placing of the foundation depends the
firmness and stability of the superstructure. Dr. Conwell, in his
little book, "Manhood's Morning," estimates that there are twelve
million young men in the United States between fourteen and
twenty-eight years of age; that these twelve million young men
represent latent physical force enough to dig the iron ore from the
mines, manufacture it into wire, lay the foundation and construct
completely the great Brooklyn Bridge in three hours; that they
represent force enough, if rightly utilized, to dig the clay from the
earth, manufacture the bricks and construct the great Chinese Wall in
five days. If each one were to build himself a house twenty-five feet
wide, these houses would line both sides of eight streets reaching
across the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific. For each one to
be sick one day is equal to thirty thousand being sick an entire year.
Now, if there are twelve million young men in the United States, we
may estimate that there are an equal number of young women. Although
we cannot calculate accurately the amount of physical force
represented by these young women, there are some things we can tell.
We know that for each one of these young women to be sick one day
means thirty thousand sick one year. Just imagine the loss to the
country, and the gain to posterity if it can be prevented!
Rome endeavored to create good soldiery, but was not able to produce
strength and courage through physical culture of the men alone. Not
until she began the physical education of the women, the young women,
was she able to insure to the nation a race of strong, hardy, vigorous
soldiery. So the health of the young women of to-day is of great
importance to the nation, for upon their vigor and soundness of body
depend to a very great extent the health and capacity of future
generations. We are told that in the State of Massachusetts, in one
year, there were lost twenty-eight thousand five hundred (28,500)
years of time through the illness of working-people by preventable
diseases. Dr. Buck, in his "Hygiene," tells us that one hundred
thousand persons die every year through preventable diseases, that one
hundred and fifty thousand are constantly sick through preventable
diseases, and that the loss to the nation, through the illness of
working-people by diseases that might have been prevented, is more
than a hundred million dollars a year. So we can see that each
individual has a pecuniary value to the nation. You are worth just as
much to the nation as you can earn. If you earn a dollar a day, you
are not only worth a dollar a day to yourself and to your personal
employer, but you are worth a dollar a day to the nation; and if,
through illness, you are laid aside for one day, the nation, as well
as yourself, is pecuniarily the loser.
Young women could not build the houses that would line eight streets
from New York to San Francisco, but, rightly educated, they could
convert each one of these houses into a home, and to found a home and
conduct it properly is to help the world. It is so easy to measure
what is done with physical strength. We can see what men are doing
when they build railroads, construct immense bridges and towering
buildings, but it is more difficult to measure what is done through
intellectual and spiritual forces; and woman's work in the world is
not so much the using of strength as it is the using of those finer
forces which go to build up men and women. With this thought in your
mind, can you answer the question, How much are you worth? How much
are you worth to yourself? How much are you worth in your home? How
much money would your parents be willing to accept in place of
yourself? How much are you worth to the community in which you live?
How much are you worth to the state, the nation, the human race?
You can recognize your value in the home when you remember how much
you are the center of all that goes on there, how much your interest
is consulted in everything that is done by father and mother. You can
realize your value to the state when you realize how much money is
spent for the education of young people, how cultured men and women
give the best of their lives to your instruction. You cannot measure
your value to the human race until you begin to think that the young
people of to-day are creating the condition of the world in fifty or
one hundred years to come; that you, through your physical health, or
lack of it, are to become a source of strength or weakness in future
years, if you are a mother. It is all right that young women should
think of marriage and motherhood, provided they think of it in the
right way.
I want you to reverence yourself, to realize your own importance, to
feel that you are a necessity to God's perfect plan. When we are young
and feel that we are of no account in the world, it is difficult to
realize that God's complete plan cannot be carried out without us. The
smallest, tiniest rivet or bolt may be of such great importance in the
construction of an engine that its loss means the incapacity of that
piece of machinery to do its work. As God has placed you in the world,
He has placed you here to do a specific work for Him and for
humanity, and your failure to do that work means the failure of His
complete and perfect plan. Now can you begin to see how much you are
worth? And can you begin to realize that in the conduct of your life
as a young woman you are a factor of immense importance to the great
problem of the evolution of the human race? In the light of these
thoughts I would like to have you ask yourself this question every
day, How much am I worth?
CHAPTER II.
CARE OF BODY.
The question "How much are you worth?" is not answered by discussing
your bodily conditions, for your body is not yourself. It is your
dwelling, but not you. It, however, expresses you.
A man builds a house, and through it expresses himself. The external
appearance causes the observer to form an opinion of him, and each
apartment bears the impress of his individuality. To look at the house
and then to walk through it will tell you much of the man. The outside
will tell you whether he is neat, orderly and artistic, or whether he
cares nothing for the elements of beauty and neatness. If you go into
his parlor, you can judge whether he cares most for show or for
comfort. His library will reveal to you the character of his mind, and
the dining-room will indicate by its furnishings and its viands
whether he loves the pleasures of sense more than health of body. You
do not need to see the man to have a pretty clear idea of him.
So the body is our house, and our individuality permeates every part
of it. Those who look at our bodily dwelling can gain a very good
idea of what we are. The external appearance will indicate to a great
extent our character. We glance at one man and say, "He is gross,
sensual, cruel, domineering;" at another and say, "He is intellectual,
spiritual, fine-grained, benevolent." So we judge of entire strangers,
and usually find the character largely corresponds to our judgment,
if, later, we come to know the person.
The anatomist and microscopist who penetrates into the secrets of his
bodily house after the inhabitant has moved out can tell much of his
habits, his thoughts, his capacities and powers by the traces of
himself which he has left on the insensate walls of his dwelling. The
care of the body, then, adds to our value, because it gives us a
better instrument, a better medium of expression.
The old saying, "A workman is known by his tools," is equally true of
the body. The carpenter who cares for his saws, chisels and planes,
who keeps them sharp and free from rust, will be able to do better
work than the one who carelessly allows them to become nicked, broken,
handleless or rusted. The finer the work which one does, the greater
the care he must take of the instruments with which he works. A
jack-knife will do to whittle a pine stick, but the carver of
intricate designs must have his various sharp tools with which to make
the delicate lines and tracings.
When we speak of health and physical conditions in discussing the
question of your value, we are discussing the instrument upon whose
integrity depends your ability to demonstrate your value.
Many young people think it nonsense to pay attention to the
preservation of health. I have heard them say, "O, I don't want to be
so fussy! It will do for old folks to be coddling themselves, but I
want a good time. I'd rather die ten years sooner and have some fun
while I do live."
I wonder what these same young people would think if they should hear
a workman say, "Well, I have here a fine kit of tools; I am assured
that if they are destroyed they will never be replaced; but now, while
I am learning my trade, I don't want to be 'so fussy' about keeping
them in order. It will do for 'boss workmen' to take care of
everything so constantly, but now I want to break stones with these
delicate hammers, to cut nails with these razor-bladed knives, to
crack nuts with these slender pincers. By and by, when I am older,
I'll use them as they should be used, but I think it's all nonsense to
be so careful now." If in later years you should hear him complain
that he had nothing to work with, would you feel like pitying him?
No "kit of tools" was ever so complete as is the bodily instrument
given to each one of us. Its mechanism has been the inspiration of
inventors; it combines all forms of mechanical devices; its delicacy,
intricacy, completeness and adaptability challenge the admiration of
the philosopher, the engineer, the master mechanic.
I cannot here tell you of all its wonders,[1] but I would like to give
you such an exalted idea of its importance that you would look upon it
with reverence and take a justifiable pride in keeping it in perfect
working order. I would like to make you feel your personal
responsibility in regard to its condition.
You know that in the ages past men believed the body to be the
individual, and they endeavored through care of the body to build up
mental as well as physical power. In those days the acrobat and the
sage were found working side by side in the gymnasium, the one to gain
physical strength, the other to increase his mental ability, and each
profited as he desired.
When men made the discovery that the body is not the individual, but
merely his dwelling and instrument of expression, they came to feel
less regard for it, and lost their interest in its care and culture.
Even the early Christians, forgetting what Paul said about the body as
a temple, began to call it vile, and thought it an evidence of great
piety to treat it with contempt. I have read of one religious sect who
believed that the Creator of the body could not have been the Creator
of the soul, and held that the chief object of God's government was to
deliver the captive souls of men from their bodily prisons.
When men began to understand that the thinking principle was the real
self and the body merely a material encasement, it was no wonder that
they valued the body less and held mind as of great value. They failed
to see that mind without a material organ of expression is, in this
world, of no account. A great pianist with no piano could not make
music, and he would be considered a strange being if he did not care
for his instrument most scrupulously. Think of a Rubinstein
voluntarily breaking the piano strings or smashing the keys, while he
made discordant poundings, and excusing himself by saying that it was
"fussy" to take care of a piano until it was old. You cannot imagine
such a thing. We can all appreciate the value of a man-made instrument
or machine; but the God-created body, a combination of machines and
instruments of marvelous power and delicacy, we neglect or treat with
absolute, positive injury, and excuse ourselves on the ground that
when it is old we will treat it more kindly.
Melville says it is a sin to die, ignoring what is to be done with the
body. "That body," he says, "has been redeemed, that body has been
appointed to a glorious condition."
It seems to me we prize the body far more after its use for us is at
an end than while it is ours to use. We do not neglect the dead; we
dress them in beautiful garments, we adorn them with flowers, we
follow them to the grave with religious ceremonies, we build costly
monuments to place over their graves, and then we go to weep over
their last resting-place.
After all, is it not life that we should value? Life here and
hereafter, not death, is the real thing for which we should prepare,
and earthly life without a sound body is not life full and complete.
Life is joy, vigor, elasticity, freedom from pain or illness,
enjoyment of all innocent pleasures in maturity as well as in youth.
We have no right to look forward to decrepitude, to failure in zest of
living, to lessening of real enjoyment because of coming years. Life
should increase in beauty and usefulness, in ability and joyousness,
as the years bring us a wider experience, and this will be the case if
we in youth have been wise enough to lay the foundation of health by a
wise, thoughtful, prudent care of our bodies and our minds.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] This Dr. Mary Wood-Allen has done in a volume entitled "Marvels of
Our Bodily Dwelling." This book teaches physiology and hygiene, by
metaphor, parable, and allegory in a most charming way. Superbly
illustrated. 12mo. Price, cloth, $1.50, post free.
CHAPTER III.
FOOD.
If I can arouse in your mind a most earnest desire to be strong and
vigorous, I shall not find it necessary to give you very minute
directions, for if you have the ambition you will find the way. If I
could excite in you an intense longing to visit Paris, I should know
that you would begin to seek for the way of getting there. If I could
create in you an earnest aspiration to be well and physically strong,
I should know that you would seek for the books that would give you
the necessary instruction. It will not be needful to talk of rules and
restrictions if I can make you feel the glory of having a sound body.
If you were starting on a journey, I should not need to warn you of
by-paths, of traps, or of dangers if I could be assured that your eye
was fixed upon your ultimate destination. So it is in the matter of
health; and yet there are some general rules or principles which I
might lay down for your consideration.
In regard to the matter of diet. I do not want you to be hampered by
"don'ts" and restrictions as to what you shall eat, but I do want you
to eat with the thought in view that eating is to be governed by
judgment and not by the pleasures of sense. Why do we eat? Not merely
because the food tastes good. There is a better reason. We eat to
live. We know that the food which we take into our bodies is digested,
elaborated and assimilated--that is, made over into ourselves--and
unless this digestion, elaboration and assimilation is properly
conducted, we shall not be fully and completely nourished. Our body is
made up of cells; the food which we eat is transformed into cell
structure, and this new cell-material takes the place of the worn-out
cells. Our reason would tell us that if too little material is
furnished, cells will not be properly repaired and ill-health will
follow. Our reason would tell us in the same way that if too much
material is furnished, the machine will be clogged and the work will
not be properly done. We will also understand at once that an
irregular supply of new material would interfere with the elaboration
of that which is undergoing the process of digestion and assimilation.
We can see, too, that unless the various tissues receive the material
which they can transform into themselves, they will not be fully
repaired. If material is taken into the system which supplies no
tissue with what it needs, this material becomes a source of
irritation.
These general rules borne in mind are sufficient to guide us into a
wiser life than if we do not understand them; and, understanding
these general principles, we will be anxious to study the particular
rules which govern digestion and assimilation.
I have known young women in college to be so absolutely ignorant or
indifferent to physiological law as to be injuring themselves
constantly by disobedience of such laws. I knew one girl, supposed to
be a very fine student, and to have brought on "fits" by overstudy,
while away at school. I had an opportunity to investigate the case,
and I discovered that she had been eating from morning till night. She
carried nuts, and candy, and apples in her pocket, had pickles and
cake in her room, and studied and munched until it was no doubt a
disturbed digestion, rather than an overused brain, that caused the
"fits."
If you will eat regularly of plain meat, vegetables, fruits, cereals,
milk and eggs, plainly prepared, and avoid rich pastries, cakes,
puddings, pickles and sweetmeats, you will have compassed the round of
healthful diet, and need give yourself very little anxiety in regard
to anything more. I should like to emphasize the fact, however, that
tea and coffee are not foods. They are irritants, stimulants,
nerve-poisons. They bring nothing to the system to build it up. They
satisfy the sense of hunger without having contributed to the
nourishment of the body. If you are wise you will avoid them. You
will not create for yourself any false necessities. You will avoid
the use of alcohol in all forms, whether wine, ales, beer or cider, as
well as in the stronger forms, because you will know that these
products interfere with digestion. Dr. Kellogg, of Battle Creek, has
made an experiment which proved that sherry to the amount of 1 per
cent. of the contents of the stomach retarded digestion nearly 4 per
cent.
He calculates that 1 per cent. of sherry would be equal to two tenths
of 1 per cent. of alcohol, and it would be necessary to take less than
an ordinary tablespoonful of the wine to obtain this percentage.
When 3 per cent. of claret was used (equivalent to three-tenths of 1
per cent. of alcohol), there was marked diminution in digestive
activity. This certainly proves that even the so-called light wines
are injurious, and certainly the drinks that contain a large per cent.
of alcohol must be that much more hurtful.
If you use good judgment both as to the quality and quantity of foods,
you need then give the matter very little thought. People sometimes
make themselves dyspeptics by worrying about what they eat. Eat what
is set before you, making a judicious choice both as to variety and
quantity, and then determine that your food shall digest.
When you live upon the higher plane of thought, you will not be so
much interested in the question of food as regards gustatory
pleasure. You will understand that eating is a necessity, but you will
not be thinking about it; you will not be desiring to please the sense
of taste; you will see that there are higher forms of sociability than
mere eating with friends, and you will not be so interested in late
suppers, and in various forms of sense gratification because you enjoy
more thoroughly the higher pleasures. You will serve your friends with
delicate food, simply and daintily prepared, and seasoned with that
wit and wisdom which remain as a permanent mental pabulum. You will
make them feel that when you come to visit them you come not to get
something to eat, but to enjoy them, to receive from them the
inspiration which they can give. We often treat our friends as if we
thought they came as beggars for physical food. It is a much higher
compliment to treat them as though we thought they came to exchange
thoughts with us, to walk with us in the higher paths of living, and
that the physical food we give them is only incidental. I was once
entertained where a company of intelligent, cultured people were
assembled, and we did not see the hostess from the time we entered the
house until supper was served. She sat at the table, worried and
anxious, and after the supper was over she did not make her appearance
until just as we were about to leave. She did not pay us the high
compliment of giving us herself, but she bestowed upon us that which a
hired cook might have given.
You remember what Emerson says: "I pray you, O excellent wife, cumber
not yourself and me to get a curiously rich dinner for this man and
woman who have just alighted at our gate. These things, if they desire
them, they can get for a few shillings at any village inn; but rather
let that stranger see, if he will, in your looks, accents and
behavior, your heart and earnestness, your thought and will, that
which he cannot buy at any price in any city, and which he may travel
miles and dine sparely and sleep hardly to behold."
It would indeed be worth your while to study food scientifically, to
know how to prepare dainty and tempting dishes wholesomely, and then
to serve your guests with such beauty of manner, such graciousness of
courtesy, that they will remember the meal they have taken with you as
idyllic in its simplicity, beauty and helpfulness.
CHAPTER IV.
SLEEP.
Shakespeare writes of "Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of
care." The metaphor is striking, but not accurate. To knit up that
which is ravelled implies using the old material in repairing the
damage, but that is not the way in which the body is rebuilt. The old
material is thrown out and new material put in its place, and that
largely takes place during sleep. We have read of brownies who came at
night and swept and churned and baked while the housewife slept. So,
in our bodily dwelling, the vital forces are our brownies, and they
can work more uninterruptedly while we are asleep than when we are
calling on them to move us from place to place, or to aid us in
various activities.
Much of life's processes must remain a mystery to us, but certain
things we have learned, and one is that perfect health cannot be
maintained, strong nerves cannot be constructed, nor a clear brain be
built without plenty of sleep. The baby sleeps almost continually
because he is building so much new structure. The growing child needs
more sleep than the adult; but even after reaching maturity sleep
cannot be materially lessened without injury to the whole
organization.
We appreciate the need of food. We are often very needlessly alarmed
for fear that we shall starve from one meal to the next, but few of us
realize that food cannot be assimilated, built into tissue, without
some hours in which the vital forces can devote themselves wholly to
the work of assimilation. During the working hours of the day we are
expending force. The brain is using it in thought, the muscles are
calling for force in various activities, the emotions are expending
energy, and each of these activities is creating changes in the cells
of the body. We know that life in the body is only possible through
constant death of the atoms of which it is composed. We can only live
because we are constantly dying. Huxley says, "For every vital act,
life is used up. All work implies waste, and the work of life results
directly or indirectly in the waste of protoplasm (which is the cell
substance). Every word uttered by a speaker costs him some physical
loss, and in the strictest sense he burns that others may have light."
Each word, thought, activity, emotion causes expenditure, and unless
expenditure is in some way made good, there will be bankruptcy. How
shall we get back the energy we have expended and so restore our vital
forces to their equilibrium? The protoplasm of which our cells are
made we can obtain from the protoplasm of animal and vegetable
substances which we eat, but we cannot use the material unless we are
sometimes at rest, and by quiescence of brain and muscle give a chance
for worn-out cells to be removed and new material put in their place.
It is when we lay our bodies down in the beautiful repose of slumber
that this process can go on with most perfect results. Then, when all
the forces can be concentrated on the process of nutrition, will
nutrition be most perfect. When we awake refreshed after a night of
sound sleep we are really fed. It is quite doubtful if, in a normal
condition, we would want food until we had been at work some time and
by destroying tissue have created a demand for more new material.
If we were only half as anxious that food should be assimilated--that
is, made over into ourselves--as we are that it should be put into the
stomach, we would be very careful to secure for ourselves a due amount
of good sleep. And what is a due amount? That depends. I once heard of
a servant girl whose mistress complained of her because she did not
get up early in the morning, and the girl's excuse was, "But, ma'am, I
can't get up early because I sleep so slow."
It seems a ridiculous statement, and yet there is a germ of truth in
it. In some people the vital processes go on with such rapidity that
the old, worn-out material will be eliminated and the new material
built into the body in a comparatively short time. Seven hours of good
sleep, perhaps, make them feel strong and rested and able to start on
a new day's work with courage and ease. In others the vital processes
are hindered or work feebly and slowly, and eight or nine hours of
sleep scarcely suffice to complete the work of restoration. What is
the obvious inference? Simply that each one shall judge for himself;
but each should be wise enough not to confuse sleeplessness with
having had sufficient sleep.
Very frequently the loss of sleep makes it difficult or impossible to
sleep, and not until the excited condition of nerves can be calmed,
can refreshing slumber be obtained. Young women who attempt to be in
school and in society at the same time often bring themselves into the
condition of insomnia or sleeplessness, and foolishly fancy that
because they do not sleep they do not need it.
It is not at all difficult to understand that if you are constantly
taking money out of the bank, you must also be constantly putting
money in, or some day you will be told that your account is already
overdrawn and your draft will not be honored. One can overdraw for a
time, and right here is the danger with young people. They fancy,
because they are not at once told that they are overdrawing, that
their bank account is unlimited, and then, when it is too late, they
find themselves on the verge, if not clear over the verge, of
bankruptcy.
How shall you know whether you sleep enough? If you will make it a
rule to go to bed by ten o'clock every night, and go to sleep at once,
and sleep soundly and waken with a clear head and a rested feeling,
you may infer that you have slept enough. If you are still tired or
dull, something is wrong. You may have been in bed long enough, but
your room may not have been ventilated, and so you may be poisoned by
breathing over and over again the emanations from your own body. Or
for some reason the process of digestion and assimilation may not have
been carried on, and poisons have been created instead of being
eliminated.
If you waken unrefreshed, I should want to inquire into your habits of
life. Was there opportunity for fresh air to enter your room? Was
there in it no uncovered vessel, no old shoes in the closet, no soiled
underclothing, nothing that could contaminate the atmosphere? Did you
eat a hearty supper late in the evening? Is your system oppressed with
a superabundance of sweets? Are you living on simple, wholesome food,
or eating irregularly of all sorts of trash? There may be many causes,
you see, for your "tired feeling" in the morning, and instead of
taking some "Sarsaparilla," or other drug, I should try to find out
the cause and remove it.
Many people are afraid of night air, and scrupulously shut it out of
their sleeping-rooms, and yet, what kind of air can you get at night
but night air? And is it not better to have pure night air from out of
doors than the impure night air of a close room? I once went with two
ladies to ascend the Rigi in Switzerland, in order to see the sun
rise. One of these was a Polish countess, who took with her a little
black-and-tan terrier. The hotel at the Rigi Staeffel was crowded, and
we thought ourselves very fortunate to secure a room with three beds.
The Countess disposed herself in one bed with her little dog, and I
took one bed, saying to my friend, "You'll please open the window
before you go to bed?" "O certainly," she replied.
The little Countess sprang up in evident alarm. "Open the window!" she
cried; "why, we'd all take our death of cold! I beg of you don't do
it. I could not sleep a wink if the window were open."
My friend spoke reassuringly to her, and she at length grew quiet,
when my friend surreptitiously raised a window and we went to sleep.
The next morning the Countess asked, with a strange air of
incredulity, "Were you in earnest when you spoke about opening the
window? Why, I never heard of such a thing in my life. I know I
should have been ill if you had persisted in having the window open."
My friend and I exchanged glances silently. We knew she was not ill
and she had slept with the window open, but doubtless she would have
been ill had she known it was open, for she had a wonderful
imagination. When we were called at three o'clock to get up and go to
the top of the mountain to see the sun rise, she turned herself
luxuriously in her bed and said she could imagine it. She had taken
this journey and "climbed the mountain" (that is, was carried up in a
chair, with her dog in her lap), to see the famous sunrise on the
Rigi, and then remained in bed and imagined it! Her imagination seemed
entirely satisfactory, and so we did not quarrel with her.
Sleep is the most positive beautifier, the best cosmetic. The term
"beauty sleep" is no misnomer. Sleep freshens the complexion, smoothes
out wrinkles, clears out the brain, strengthens the muscles, puts
light into the eyes and color into the cheek.
CHAPTER V.
BREATHING.
The first thing you did when you came into this world was to inspire,
that is, to breathe in. The last thing you will do will be to expire,
that is, to breathe out. And between your first inspiration and your
last expiration there will have been the process of respiration, that
is, breathing in and out at an average rate of twenty times a minute.
Twenty times a minute means twelve hundred times an hour, or nearly
thirty thousand times a day, or over ten million times a year. If you
should live to be fifty years old, you will have breathed in and out
over five hundred million times. We eat three times a day, twenty-one
times a week, over a thousand times a year, fifty thousand times in
fifty years, but we breathe over five hundred million times in fifty
years.
We realize the importance of eating, but we can live days without
food. On the other hand, we cannot live many seconds entirely without
air. We must infer from all this that breathing is more important than
eating. How can it be? From our food our body is rebuilt. What
life-process is accomplished by breathing?
To understand this, we must learn what processes are going on in the
body, by means of which food is converted into tissue, into heat and
energy. These processes we find are chemical, and may be likened to
the combustion of wood or coal in the furnace. We know that fire must
have air in order to burn. Burning is the process of oxidation or
combustion of oxygen with the atoms of fuel and the formation of a new
substance thereby. Coal, we are told, consists of carbon and nitrogen,
both of which readily combine with oxygen, and in the process of
uniting heat is liberated, and waste compounds thus formed pass off
through the smokestack or chimney. We may not understand this
scientifically, but we know that if we want the fire to burn well we
must give it draft or air.
Our bodies are living engines, and use food and air instead of coal
and air. Food in the body without air is like the coal in an engine
without air; and air is useful only because it brings oxygen to unite
chemically with the food. This process is going on all over the body.
Each little microscopical cell is a furnace in which oxidation is
taking place; and not only is energy liberated, but reconstructive
processes are going on, new tissues are being formed, and old tissues
removed.
But how can the oxygen get to the cells in all parts of the body? We
can readily see how it gets to the air-cells of the lungs, but it
would do little good if it stopped there. It must be carried in some
way to all the minutest cells of all the tissues. This is done through
the breathing. The blood goes to the lungs, and there it gives out the
waste material it has collected in its journey through the body and
takes up oxygen. The blood goes to the lungs dark in color from its
load of waste. It is changed to a bright red by taking up oxygen. Each
red blood-corpuscle takes a load of oxygen, carries it to its
destination, and gives it to some tissue to be used up in the chemical
process of oxidation, upon which depends our life and energy. During
the hours of rest the tissues are busy in this process, and during
exercise the energy stored up in the tissue-cells is liberated and
waste created. So we see that the process is a continual round of
taking food and air, using them in rebuilding tissue, then using up
the tissue by exercise and casting out the waste products. And now we
can begin to understand that we live in proportion as we breathe. Dr.
Holbrook says: "The activity of the child is in close relation to the
strength of its lungs; so, too, is the calmness, dignity and power of
a man in proportion to the depth and tranquility of his respiration.
If the lungs are strong and active, there is courage and boldness; if
feeble, there is cowardice and debility. To be out of spirits is to be
out of breath. To be animated and joyous is to be full of breath."
"Breathing," writes Dr. von der Deeken, "is an actual vivifying act,
and the need of breath as felt is a real life-hunger and a proof that
without the continual charging of the blood-column with the proper
force, all the other vital organs would soon stagnate and cease action
altogether."
Now I wonder how many young women really know how to breathe. "Why,"
you say, "we have always breathed!" And I reply, "So you have, to some
extent; but do you really breathe, or do you just let a little current
of air flow gently through a part of your lungs, not reaching the
minute air-cells at all, or have you crippled a large part of your
lung-power by the restrictions of tight clothing?" Now you shrug your
shoulders and say, with a little irritation, perhaps, "O, now she is
going to scold about corsets and tight-lacing, and I do not wear my
clothes tight." But I am not now going to talk of lacing; I am going
to talk about singing, and speaking, and real living. The highest
class of living creatures are those that have most power to breathe.
The cold-blooded animals breathe little, and are slow-moving creatures
with deficient sensation and small powers of action. Man has large
lung-capacity and should be full of life and power, and will be, if he
understands himself. One benefit of exercise is the added impulse
given to the heart and lungs, calling for more breath, and bringing
more blood to the lungs to receive the added supply of oxygen.
If we were wise we would practise the art of deep, voluntary
breathing, as a daily form of gymnastics. What would it do for us?
Wonderful things, if we may believe the doctors. Even in the old Greek
and Roman times the doctors recommended deep breathing, the voluntary
holding of air in the lungs, believing that this exercise cleansed the
system of impurities and gave strength. And all our scientific
discoverers have proven that they were right, and modern doctors have
only learned more of the process and added to the wisdom of the
ancients. Professor Lehwess says that he uses deep breathing not only
as a health remedy but as a cure for muscular convulsions, especially
chronic spasms; and he says that he bases his method for the cure of
stuttering mainly upon respiratory and vocal exercises, "whereby," he
says, "we work on enervated muscles, and make their function bring
them into permanent activity and make them obedient to our will." Thus
not only will the respiratory system be enlarged and quickened, and
the lungs strengthened, but the blood circulation is promoted and
those injurious influences overcome which often take away the
stutterer's courage for speaking.
Dr. Niemeyer, of Leipzig, urges breathing in these words: "Prize air;
use good, pure air; breathe fresh air in your room by night and day."
Dr. Bicking says that respiratory gymnastics are the only effectual
remedy for pulmonary affection, especially for consumption. The
Marquise Ciccolina claims that by the teaching of breathing gymnastics
she has cured people of a tendency to take cold easily; she has
benefited cases of lung and heart trouble, and she has cured nervous
asthma even in cases that have lasted from childhood to maturity. Dr.
Kitchen asserts that if the various structures of the body, including
the lungs, are in a sufficiently healthy state, consumption cannot
find a soil in which to commence its ravages, or, if already
commenced, can be cured by attention to the general health, by pure
air and deep breathing.
All this proves that the breathing is of great importance--of just as
much importance to women as to men. It used to be thought that women
breathe naturally with the upper part of the chest and men with the
abdominal muscles, but we have now learned that in the breathing of
both men and women the diaphragm should be used and the lower part of
the chest expanded. The breathing should neither be thoracic--that is,
with the upper part of the chest--nor abdominal. It should be
diaphragmatic; that is, with the expansion of the sides of the lower
part of the chest, thus filling every air-cell and bringing the
life-giving oxygen to the blood. The importance of the diaphragm as
the breathing muscle cannot be overestimated. A diaphragm, you know,
is a partition across a cylinder; the diaphragm is a muscular
partition across the cylinder of the body, dividing the lungs from the
abdomen. In breathing, the diaphragm becomes tense, and in becoming
tense becomes also flattened, just as an umbrella does by being
opened. In fact the opening and shutting of an umbrella gives a very
good idea of the motion of the diaphragm in breathing. We can realize,
then, how much larger around the body will be when the lungs are fully
inflated than it is when we breathe the air out and the lungs are
empty. A few minutes spent each day in exercising in diaphragmatic
breathing would be of great advantage in increasing beauty of form, in
giving strength and power to the voice, in improving the complexion
and adding to the health, and therefore to the happiness. In taking
these exercises, one should either stand erect or lie flat upon the
back and draw the air in through the nose, keeping the mouth closed.
Draw in gently, allowing the chest to expand at the sides, hold the
air for a little time, and then breathe out slowly.
These exercises performed in a room that is well ventilated, or,
better still, in the pure air of outdoors, will do much toward driving
away headaches, clearing the brain, giving better judgment, stronger
will, and a clearer, happier, brighter disposition.
CHAPTER VI.
HINDRANCES TO BREATHING.
This little conversation will be on the hindrances to deep breathing,
for if we make up our minds that it is so important to breathe deeply
we shall be very anxious to know how to avoid the hindrances to deep
breathing. First, let me speak of attitude. If you study physiology
and note the arrangement of the internal organs, you will very easily
see that when the body is compressed in a sitting attitude there must
be a hindrance to full and deep breathing. The girl who is running the
typewriter or the sewing-machine, or the girl who is working as
bookkeeper or stenographer, or the girl at her studies, is sitting so
that it will not be possible to breathe deeply, for the lungs are
encroached upon by the crowding together of the other _viscera_ (which
means the vital organs) and the action of the breathing muscles is
impeded by compression. As you will readily observe, there can be no
lifting of the chest in this compressed attitude, no complete
flattening of the diaphragm, no full inflation of the minute
air-cells; therefore, as we have learned, the blood is not thoroughly
purified, and actual poisons created by the vital processes
accumulate in the brain and tissues until you feel overpoweringly
weary and stupid. You cannot think, because you cannot fully breathe.
You have often found, when sewing, that the machine would get, as you
say, bewitched. It wouldn't feed, the thread would break or the needle
would snap, and the whole work go wrong. Put the machine away, take a
rest, and the next day, without doing anything at all to the machine,
you find that it runs perfectly. The trouble was with yourself. It is
so with the girl who is running the typewriter. She finds that it
makes mistakes in spelling, things go wrong altogether. It "acts up,"
as she would say. So with the girl who is bookkeeper. The figures will
not add themselves up right. Now if, under these circumstances, the
girl would get up, go to the door, take a few deep breaths and expand
the lungs fully, she would relieve the internal congestion consequent
upon the cramped position, the brain would be freed from the
accumulated poison, and as a consequence the troublesome problems
would soon be solved, the typewriter would spell correctly, the
figures would add themselves up accurately, and life would become
brighter at once. Five minutes spent each hour in deep breathing of
pure air would add both to the quality and quantity of work done, and
so be a saving of time. This certainly is of great value to you in
your work in the world.
After working-hours are over, the girl should make a special effort to
sit erect for other reasons than that of breathing, though that is
reason enough.
But wrong sitting-postures are not the only attitudes that interfere
with deep breathing. Very often the position in standing is also
objectionable. When one stands with the weight resting on the heels
the body is thrown out of balance, and as a consequence the shoulders
are not on a vertical line with the hips. In this attitude it is
impossible to manifest fullness of life, because the lungs are not
fully inflated with air at each breath. We live, enjoy, accomplish
only in proportion to our breathing ability. As one writer says, "The
deep thinker, the orator, the fine singer, must of necessity be a good
breather."
The most serious hindrance to deep breathing is found in the
restrictions of the clothing. I do not say of the corsets, because
tight bands or waists can also compress the body and make full
breathing impossible. Of course you say your dresses are loose, and
you run your hand up under your waist to prove it to me. I will not
argue the question with you, but I will ask you to argue it with
yourself.
If breathing is the measure of your living and doing, then if, in the
least degree, you limit by your dress your breathing, the dress is too
tight. "Well," you ask "how shall I know if I am hindering my
breathing? My dress feels comfortable. It seems to me that I breathe.
Is there any way that I can prove whether my dress is tight or not?"
It is true that one becomes accustomed to uncomfortable things and
scarcely realizes that they ever were uncomfortable. The dress may
seem a little tight when you first put it on, then it begins to grow
comfortable, and after a while it feels loose, and you say it
certainly is loose. I will give a simple rule by which you may know
whether your clothing is loose enough or not. Unfasten every article
of clothing; dress, corset, skirt-bands, everything. Now breathe in
slowly until every air-cell is full. It may take some practice to do
this, but persevere until you find the chest elevated and filled to
its utmost extent. It should swell out at the sides along the line of
the insertion of the diaphragm. There should be no heaving of the
chest. Now, with the lungs so completely filled with air, bring your
dress waist together without pulling a particle. Will it fasten
without pressing out a bit of air from the lungs? If so, it is loose
enough. If, however, you have to pull it together, even to the tiniest
extent, you have pressed out some of the air. The minute air-cells
that have thus been emptied cannot be again filled while the dress is
fastened. Therefore you are defrauded of your rightful amount of air,
and because part of the air is pressed out, the lungs take less space
and the dress seems looser. You can understand how that would be.
The trouble is that our dresses are usually fitted over empty lungs.
The dressmaker pulls the dress together, squeezes the air out of the
lungs, and fastens the dress. Now you can readily understand that it
will be impossible to fill those air-cells so long as the dress is
worn, and yet it may not seem uncomfortable, because we become
accustomed to it. Nature has made us so that we can accustom ourselves
to many things that are not absolutely healthful, but this should not
make us willing to live unhealthfully when it is possible to avoid
it.
CHAPTER VII.
ADDED INJURIES FROM TIGHT CLOTHING.
We have talked of the effect of tight clothing upon the breathing
power. Let us see what other injuries arise from wearing the dress too
tight. In the first place, the action of the heart is impeded. The
heart is a hollow muscle which must be continually filled with blood
and emptied again many times a minute from the moment of birth till
the moment of death. You have been lying down for an hour; let me
count your pulse. Now sit up for a few moments. I find, now, that it
beats faster. Now stand up, and it beats still faster. You see, it
increases continually as you get into the erect position. Now walk
quickly across the floor and you will see how much it has increased
again in rapidity.
You will realize how much the dress interferes with the action of the
heart better from an illustration. Professor Sargent made an
experiment with a number of girls. One day they were dressed in
perfectly loose clothing. He counted the pulse of each. It beat on the
average of eighty-four times in a minute. He had them run five hundred
and forty yards in the space of two and a half minutes. The pulse was
again counted. It had increased to one hundred and fifty-six beats in
a minute. This illustrates the effect of exercise even in loose
clothing. The next day at the same time, dressed with a corset which
reduced the waist to twenty-four inches, they ran the same distance in
the same length of time, and then he found that the pulse had run up
to one hundred and sixty-eight beats in a minute, showing how much
harder it was for the heart to do its work when restricted by tight
clothing. No acrobat would attempt to perform feats of strength or of
agility if restricted even so much as by a belt.
The Russian Government has issued an edict that the soldiers must wear
their pantaloons held up by suspenders, for it has been demonstrated
that when they wear them supported by a belt around the waist they are
not able to do a fair amount of work. The Austrian Government has also
decreed that the pantaloons of soldiers are not to be suspended by
belts because of the increase of kidney difficulty caused thereby.
We will understand why kidney difficulty is caused by tight clothing
when we study the location of the kidneys and how they are affected by
compression of the ribs. Most people think the kidneys lie low down in
the back, but in reality they lie up under the short ribs, and the
pressure of tight clothing brings the ribs to bear directly upon the
kidneys, injuring them in such a way as often to cause disease.
The heart and lungs are protected by a bony framework called the
thorax, but below the thorax there is no protection for the internal
organs except that of the muscles, therefore the corset or tight
clothing can do most damage to the vital organs below the diaphragm.
The largest of these is the liver. It should lie close up under the
diaphragm, from which it is suspended. Under the influence of tight
clothing it is often pressed over on the right side, sometimes
extending over the whole front of the body, or even as low down as the
navel. It is rutted by the pressure of the ribs. The corset liver is
well known in the dissecting-room. Sometimes, where corsets are not
worn and tight skirts are worn, supported by the hips, the liver has
almost been cut in two, the pieces being only held together by a
sufficient band of tissue to keep them from dying.
When Hiram Powers, the great sculptor, was in this country, he once
attended an elegant party, and was observed watching very intently a
beautifully dressed, fashionable woman. A friend, noticing his
interest, said to him, "What an elegant figure she has, hasn't she?"
"Well," said Powers, "I was wondering where she put her liver."
You see, Powers had studied the human body, and when he saw such an
outline as the figure of a fashionable woman, he knew that some
internal organ must be displaced in order to create that tapering
waist, and his anxiety was for the internal organs. As an artist he
did not admire the tapering waist, as is shown by the beautiful marble
statue which he made. No artist would perpetuate in marble the figure
of the fashionable woman.
Not only is the liver thus displaced, but the stomach is often pressed
out of its original position, which should be also close up under the
diaphragm, towards the left side. By the pressure of clothing it is
sometimes pushed down until it lies in the abdominal cavity, even as
low down as the navel. This is the statement of Dr. J.H. Kellogg, who,
in his sanitarium at Battle Creek, examines hundreds, or even
thousands of women in a year, and asserts that it is almost impossible
to find a woman whose stomach is where it belongs. This is a serious
matter, because no organ can do its work properly when it is out of
its rightful position. We understand this in any machinery except that
of the human body. We would not meddle with a man-made machine because
that would hinder its perfect working, but we do not hesitate to
interfere with the body, forgetful that it, too, is a machine,
divinely created, and with powers most fateful to us for weal or woe.
But the harm is not all done by the displacement of the organs
mentioned. The bowels suffer, and we can best understand what is done
to them when we understand how they are placed in the abdominal
cavity.
Let me take the ruffle you are making. The mesentery is a delicate,
narrow membrane about twenty feet long. We will compare it to the
ruffle. Folded in it at one edge are the small intestines, just as I
can run this bodkin into the hem of this ruffle. The other edge of the
mesentery is gathered up as you have gathered the ruffle. It is
gathered into a space of about six inches in length, and is fastened
up and down the spine in the region of the small of the back. You can
see, if I gather up twenty feet of this ruffle into a space of six
inches, how the mesentery, with the intestines folded in the free
edge, are held in the abdominal cavity. They are held loosely, and at
the same time so that the intestines cannot be tied in knots or loops
upon each other. In this way the ruffle flares out into the abdominal
cavity. The intestines should stay in their place close up under the
liver and stomach, but if pressure is brought to bear around the body
at this point, the bowels begin to sag into the abdominal cavity. The
abdominal walls lose their tonicity because they are so compressed
that they cannot have a perfect circulation, the bowels sink down
still further into the pelvis, and pull upon their attachment in the
small of the back, creating backache. The stomach sags down into the
cavity; the liver sinks, and all the organs pull upon their
attachments; so it is no wonder that women have backaches and
headaches, and their eyes feel bad, and they are unable to stand or
walk. We don't want small rooms in our dwelling-houses, we don't like
it if we haven't sufficient space for our furniture; but in this
bodily house in which we dwell we are quite willing to constrict the
rooms in which the vital organs or furniture are placed, until
everything is huddled together in the closest pressure, so that the
organs are unable to do their work. It wouldn't matter in our parlors
if the chairs and tables were huddled close together, for they are not
constantly changing in size, but it does matter in a room where
machines must have space to work and such space is not permitted them;
and we cannot expect good work where we crowd machinery so that it
does not have adequate room.
The influence of tight clothing upon the pelvic organs is to displace
them and create a great many difficulties which we know as "Female
Diseases." But these, in my opinion, are not the most important
things. The important things are the displacement of the vital organs
of the body--those organs without which we cannot live, and those
organs the perfect working of which is necessary both to our health
and our happiness. If we are wise we will be exceedingly anxious that
every vital organ shall be allowed to hold its own position, to do
its own work, with plenty of room.
The impeding of the heart-action by tight clothing is not in itself
the most serious effect of this restriction. The serious trouble is in
the disturbance of the circulation. Upon a perfect circulation depends
perfect nutrition. The blood must go in sufficient quantity to every
organ in order that it may be fully nourished. When the waist is
compressed the organs do not receive their full amount of blood. It is
retained, and therefore the organs are congested. The feet are cold
because the blood does not reach them in sufficient quantity, and the
brain, it may be, is hot, because the blood is not taken from the head
with enough rapidity and furnished to the other organs. So we find
that tight clothing interferes with the integrity and health of every
organ in the body, and consequently with our happiness and with our
usefulness.
The reason we admire the tapering waist is because we have been
wrongly educated. We have acquired wrong ideas of beauty. We have
accepted the ideals of the fashion-plate rather than those of the
Creator. We find that some form of physical deformity maintains in
almost every country. The Chinese deform the feet, and we think this
is barbarous, but it is really not as serious as the deforming of the
vital parts of the body. The Flathead Indian is deformed in babyhood
by being compressed between boards until the head changes its shape.
Among some savage nations the leg is bandaged for a few inches above
the ankle and for a few inches below the knee and the central part is
allowed to expand as it will, and this deformity to them constitutes
beauty. Among other nations, holes are made in the ears and pieces of
wood are inserted. The size of these pieces is gradually increased
until the lobe of the ear will hang down upon the shoulder and a piece
of wood as large as a man's arm be worn in the ears. All of these
things seem to us most horrible; yet, after all, they are not as much
an insult to the Divine Architect of the body as the deformity
practised by civilized and so-called Christian people, who by
restriction of the waist interfere with the vital organs and prevent
the body from being perfect in its development, or perfect in its
action. The activity of the body is an evidence of its life, and if it
is so tied up that it cannot be active, it certainly is not in the
fullest condition of life.
CHAPTER VIII.
EXERCISE.
You said to me, my daughter, that you wanted to join the class in
Physical Culture. I asked you why, and you said because you thought
you needed to build up in certain parts of the body. You were
defective in muscular development; you needed also to acquire grace,
you thought. And I said, "Is muscular development the primary object
of physical education?" You seemed to think that it is. Now I want to
talk to you a little along that line, and to demonstrate to you, if I
can, that physical education is not primarily for the building up of
big muscle, or for the gaining of power to do great feats of bodily
strength or skill. The object of physical education is to develop a
quickly responsive, flexible instrument for the soul to use, for that
is what the body is. Physical culture, rightly conducted, aims to
secure the highest condition of the body through the exercises that
are required by the laws of the body. Law, physical law, governs the
body, and exercise should be according to this law. The first object
of exercise is to make a vital supply for the whole body. This is
first secured by proper attitude. If we stand or sit properly we gain
a proper position of the vital organs, and then they will do their
work well, and the result will be more perfect nutrition.
The use of certain organs increases supply, and the use of others
quickens waste; a balance should be maintained between the two. We
must nourish the life-sustaining organs before using the organs which
use up brain-supply, therefore we want to be sure that we are working
according to these laws. A great many people have an idea that
physical culture means building up big muscle. They measure the
muscles of the arm and of the leg, and judge by their increase in size
of the value of the exercise. This is not a correct measurement.
Individuals may weigh themselves down by development of muscles until
they have not sufficient internal vital force to carry so much weight.
If we could only balance between the organs which supply nutriment and
the organs which use it up, we would keep in perfect health.
We want to learn how to secure a maximum of results with a minimum of
force. That is, we want the body to be quickly responsive, to be
flexible, to be so that we can use it for the things we want to do
without wasting strength, and yet without being weighed down by a
superabundance of muscular tissue.
The first desideratum in taking exercise is to have every organ of the
body free, therefore a gymnastic dress is a necessity. Then we should
have the exercise conducted by some one who understands the
peculiarities of each individual and knows just what exercises are
suited for her in her special physical condition. They should also be
directed by one who understands perfectly that the girl with an anæmic
brain, that is, with a brain having too little blood, cannot be
conducted on the same plan as the exercise of the girl who has a
superabundance of blood in the brain.
The best exercise is that which employs the mind pleasantly. A good
deal of exercise may be obtained in housework, and, if conducted with
pleasure in the work, may be of great physical advantage. Not long ago
I listened to a very charming talk by a lady whose dress betokened her
a woman of society. She wore white kid gloves, a dainty flower bonnet,
and in herself appeared an exponent of leisure and happiness. Her
address was entitled "The Home Gymnasium," and I supposed that it
would consist of descriptions of machinery that could be put up in
one's own dwelling for gymnastic purposes, but I soon found that her
home gymnasium meant household duties. She said one could scrub the
table and obtain the best exercise for arms and chest, and at the same
time produce an article or piece of furniture which would be a delight
to the eye in its whiteness and brightness. She said that in
scrubbing the floor one obtained very much the same movement that
would be given in the gymnasium, while at the same time the exercise
would conduce not only to the personal advantage but to the happiness
of the family. She spoke of sweeping, and dusting, and bed-making, and
expressed herself as competent to do all these kinds of work, in fact,
as doing them. And she said she never felt more of a lady than when
scrubbing her kitchen floor, and she was not ashamed to be seen by her
friends at this work. If any one rang the door-bell, she said she
would simply put on a clean apron and go to the door, and remark
without hesitation that she was just scrubbing her kitchen floor, but
she was glad to see her friends.
This sort of a home gymnasium is at the command of nearly every girl,
and if she can bring herself to feel an interest in this home
gymnastic exercise, she may find it conducive not only to her own
physical well-being, but to the comfort and happiness of all about
her.
The question is often asked whether bicycle-riding is injurious for
girls, and I would say that in my opinion it depends largely upon the
girl. Has she good common sense? Of course I am speaking of the girl
who is in a normal condition of health. A girl of extreme delicacy, or
who is subject to some functional difficulty, or the victim of some
organic disease, might not find it advantageous to ride. A physician
should, in these cases, be consulted. But for the ordinary girl, the
girl of fairly good health, if she will learn how to sit properly upon
her saddle, will have the good sense to ride with judgment, it seems
to me that the exercise must be productive of great good.
My own experience is somewhat limited. I made some discoveries in my
attempts to ride. In the first place, I learned that it was important
to know how to sit. In reading a book on "Physical Culture and Hygiene
for Women," by Dr. Anna Galbraith, I found this sentence: "Sit upon
the gluteal muscles, and not upon the perineum." This was a revelation
to me. I found that I had been doing the thing which was not proper,
and bearing the weight almost entirely upon the perineum had caused
constant rectal irritation. The gluteal muscles, closely held
together, form a firm support for the body without injuring any of the
vital organs. I found that by distributing the weight--a little upon
the handle-bars, and some upon the feet--I was able to sit with less
weight and heaviness upon the saddle. I found, too, that it was quite
important to have the saddle high enough, so that the legs might be
fully extended at each stroke, and with these precautions I found the
wheel a source both of enjoyment and of strength.
The harm done by the wheel I believe in most instances to be due to
an ill-adapted saddle or a lack of good judgment in the amount of
exercise taken. It is such a fascinating exercise, one seems to be
flying and scarcely realizes how much of nerve-force is being
expended. If the girl learning to ride will be prudent, gauging the
amount of exercise by her amount of strength; if she will gradually
acquire the needed strength before attempting long wheeling trips; if
she will be judicious and not ride, perhaps, during the first two or
three days of menstruation, there seems to be no reason why the
ordinary girl should not be entirely benefited by this most delightful
form of exercise. It is not as objectionable, to any degree, as the
exercise of dancing. Dancing is a most fascinating amusement, and if
it only could be conducted under proper circumstances it would be very
delightful. In itself it is not so objectionable as in its
concomitants; the late hours, the improper dressing, the hearty
suppers in the middle of the night, the promiscuous association and
the undue familiarity of the attitude of the round dance are what make
dancing objectionable. If dancing could be conducted out of doors, in
the daylight, with intimate friends, without the round dances, only
those forms of dancing which may be likened to gymnastics, as the
contra-dance, the cotillion, the objections to dancing would be
largely removed, but I am of the opinion that a large share of the
fascination of dancing would go at the same time.
Skating is a delightful, invigorating form of exercise, if conducted
with judgment. One objection to it is that the girl will skate until
wearied, and then, in that exhausted condition, perhaps ride home, or
take a long, tiresome walk from the pond to her residence, all of
which is sapping her unduly and annulling the value of the skating as
an exercise.
Lawn-tennis is delightful and beneficial, provided it is undertaken
with due judgment and the girl is properly dressed. In fact, the
subject of dress is so closely associated with that of exercise that
they can never be considered separately. Even the moderate exercise of
walking, conducted in the dress of the fashionable woman, is in itself
an element of danger, whereas more violent exercise in a loose dress
becomes a means of increased strength and vigor.
I am often asked if girls should be allowed to run up and down stairs.
I see no reason why girls should not go up and down stairs just as
freely as boys, if they are properly dressed; but going up and down
stairs in tight clothing is certainly very injurious.
CHAPTER IX.
BATHING.
You and your girl friends take much pains with your personal
adornment. You spend time in curling your hair and in putting on
ribbons and laces, but I sometimes think you do not pay as much
attention to personal cleanliness as you ought. It would seem as if
some of you thought that powder would cover a defect in cleanliness
and perfumery would conceal the odors of the person; but indeed it
seems to me that the stylish make-up of your dress or the curl of your
hair is of very little importance compared with the care of your
health.
You each desire to have a beautiful complexion. I used to be told in
my childhood that beauty was only skin-deep, but I have learned
better. I know that even the beauty of the complexion depends upon the
integrity of the nutritive organs as well as upon the care and
attention given to matters of personal cleanliness.
I read the other day of a discussion between two young men concerning
the cleanliness of girls of their acquaintance. One young man noticed
that although one of the girls wore a very pretty dress-gown, she had
forgotten to clean her finger-nails. The other remarked that many
things in regard to a girl's personal cleanliness could be learned by
riding behind her on a tandem. The two then commented favorably upon
the girl whose nails were pink, whose ears and neck were clean, her
teeth white and dazzling, and her hair well brushed. I might say, in
passing, that this hair-brushing time at night may be well employed in
reviewing the experiences of the day in order to learn the lessons
they teach, and thereby to avoid to-morrow the mistakes of to-day.
These same young men also said that the complexions of some girls
suggested the idea of too little fresh air and too much candy. This,
they agreed, it was impossible to hide with powder. So we see that the
care of the skin is quite important if one would have the respect and
the admiration of her associates.
The skin is a very beautiful, complex and delicate covering of the
body. It consists of six layers, and contains arteries, capillaries,
lymphatics, nerves, sweat glands, sebaceous glands, pigment, etc. So
you see that the care of the skin involves much. One writer has said,
"At the skin man ends and the outlying universe begins."
The skin, filled with nerves, is continually reporting to the brain
concerning what is the condition of all parts of the body. The
condition of the skin reflects the condition of the digestive organs.
Many girls are trying to cure pimples on the face by the use of salves
and lotions, when in all probability all that they would need to do to
gain a good complexion is to pay attention to diet, to quit eating
between meals, and not to eat so much pastry, pickles or sweetmeats.
Our athletes and pugilists are learning that they must take care of
the skin if they would keep in good condition, and they are what in
horses would be called well groomed. The skin is rubbed, cared for,
kept active, because it is understood that it is an organ of
sensation, of secretion, of excretion, of absorption, and of
respiration. More solid matter is thrown out from the skin than from
the lungs, in the proportion of eleven to seven. It is even more than
the excretion from the bowels.
The skin is an organ of breathing. This seems strange to us, but it
really does take up oxygen and give out carbonic acid, so upon the
condition of the skin will depend very largely the condition of the
general health. We can detect a constipated condition of the bowels
through the color and odor of the skin.
Many girls feel that it is more delicate to neglect the care of the
bowels than to attend to a daily evacuation, but if they would
remember that it is just as indelicate to carry effete or dead matter
about in the bowels as it would be to carry it upon the person in any
other way, they would realize that it is only politeness and
refinement to see that this part of their bodily housekeeping is duly
attended to. If the bowels do not do their work the skin will be
obliged to take extra labor upon itself; so, as we have said, by the
odor of the skin we can detect the fact that the skin is doing the
work that should be done by the bowels. When a person is sick the
condition of the internal organs is shown in the complexion, and
nothing more clearly indicates health than the condition of the skin.
If this is so important, how shall we care for the skin? First, by
bathing. The tin bath-tub of the Englishman accompanies him in all his
travels, and has penetrated even to the jungles of Africa. Bathing
appliances are marks of civilization, and the bath-room is becoming a
necessity. Where the bath-room does not exist it is easy to bathe
thoroughly and completely. A wash-basin of water, with a sponge and
towel, furnish all that is absolutely necessary. A most convenient
bath is the portable thermal bath, an arrangement of rubber cloth that
can be opened out to form a square enclosure in which the person sits,
with the head in the free outside air, the body enveloped in steam
generated by an alcohol lamp. This, followed by a quick sponge-bath of
cool water, is a most efficient way of cleansing the skin; and this
bath may be used in any room, no matter how beautifully furnished,
without soiling the carpet or furniture in the least.
One great secret of healthful bathing is, when warm or hot water is
used, to follow it by an immediate application of cold water, which
leaves the skin in a tonic condition. In preparation for going out in
cold weather, nothing is so efficient a protection from the cold as a
foot-bath. Soak the feet for a few minutes in water as warm as is
comfortable, then plunge them into cold water and remove immediately,
or throw cold water over them, wipe them thoroughly dry, rub them with
a little olive oil, draw on a pair of clean, warm hose, and the feet
are not only warmed, but are protected against cold and will stay
warm. These precautions will prevent one taking cold from the
foot-bath. Care of the feet is a great necessity not only for health,
for equalizing the circulation, but for the prevention of unpleasant
odors.
As to time of bathing, I suppose that the body is at its highest point
of vital power at about ten o'clock in the morning, but this is, for
most people, the most inconvenient time for a bath. The circumstances
of the individual are to be consulted, and also the effect of bathing.
There are those who are made nervous by taking a bath, consequently
they will not be benefited by taking one just before going to bed. In
other cases the bath conduces to slumber. This depends very largely
upon the amount of blood in the brain. A person with an anæmic brain
will not be benefited by the bath at bedtime, but the person whose
brain is overcharged with blood will find the evening bath quieting.
I would not advise everybody to take a daily bath. There are those who
are benefited by it; there are others who might be injured by it. It
is best to study personal peculiarities and to watch the effect of the
bath. If, within a few hours, or the next day, there is great
exhaustion, one might naturally conclude that the bath was not
altogether beneficial. There are those in such delicate health that a
cold bath at any time does not seem desirable; but constant attention
will secure perfect cleanliness, as the arms and chest can be bathed
one day, the abdomen and back another, the lower extremities still
another day, and so the whole body be compassed twice or more in the
space of a week.
In regard to the use of soap for bathing purposes, the finest, purest
soaps should be used, and these alone. It is generally supposed that
pure, white castile soap is the best. Various soaps are widely
advertised, while some that claim to be of the very best are not
always up to the requisite standard. Yet one can tell by a little
experience what soap is of pure quality, and such soap can be applied
even to the face without injury.
In washing the face the hand is probably the best instrument, with the
thumb under the chin, the fingers turned toward the upper part of the
face. The manipulation should be against the direction of forming
wrinkles, wherever there is a tendency for wrinkles to appear. They
can be held in check by the judicious manipulation of the fingers in
the opposite direction. Wrinkles are created by obliterating the
capillary circulation of the skin. The manipulation increases the
circulation, and so tends to overcome wrinkles. The expression of the
face may form wrinkles. I saw a girl the other day on a street-car who
continually held her eyebrows elevated, forming longitudinal lines
across her forehead, which had become as fixed in her youthful face as
if she had been seventy years of age. This was a lack of care in the
governing of the expression of the face, and also a lack in keeping up
the capillary circulation.
The care of the hands may be considered also while discussing the
question of bathing. The hands should be kept clean, the finger-nails
particularly cared for, as much of the beauty of the hands depends
upon the delicate appearance of the finger-nails. The manicure sets,
which are at the disposal of almost every young woman of the present
day, are a very great addition to toilet appurtenances. The curved
scissors, the polisher, the blunt ivory instrument for pushing back
the fold of skin from the root of the nail, all of these used but a
few moments in the day will conduce to great beauty in the hands, even
for those who are doing housework.
PART II.
NEED OF SPECIAL KNOWLEDGE; SOME FORMS OF AVOIDABLE DISEASE, THEIR
REMEDY AND PREVENTION.
CHAPTER X.
CREATIVE POWER.
It is a wonderful thought that God shares His divine endowments with
man; that He, being our Father, hath bestowed upon us the power to
manifest His characteristics. We are proud of these Godlike powers. We
talk of our Godlike reason, and it is divine. We know that God
reasons. We have evidence of it in the material world about us, and
when we use our reason we are "thinking God's thoughts after Him."
God has the marvelous power of imagination, using that word in its
noblest sense. He has the power to conceive something in thought
before it actually exists. He must have seen all the glories of the
material universe, worlds upon worlds circling through space, moon and
stars, the beauty of forest and stream, of tinted flower and
iridescent insect wing before they were brought into being, and He had
the power to create them. Man has this wonderful gift of imagination.
The inventor sees the machine in his thought before he attempts to
build it. The poet has the germ of his poem in mind, even the rhythm
and rhyme, before he puts it on paper. To the imagination of the
artist the canvas glows with color before his brush has touched it.
The sculptor, looking at the rough block of marble, sees within it the
imprisoned shape of beauty which his genius shall liberate to delight
the world. The musician hears, singing through his brain, the
marvelous harmonies which, put upon paper, shall entrance all hearers.
Certainly this glorious gift of imagination is Godlike. But it would
be useless if it were not accompanied by creative power. The inventor
must be able to create as well as to imagine the engine. The poet, the
musician, the artist fails of deserving the name if he cannot embody
his thought in a form that others may recognize. He must not only
imagine, but create. In some degree every intelligent human being has
these powers. The housewife imagines her dinner before she prepares
it, and a well-cooked dinner, placed upon a well-appointed table with
care and taste, manifests something of the ability of the inventor and
the artist. The same may be said of her who designs and creates an
elegant costume, or arranges a room with taste and skill.
We appreciate the housewife's culinary creation; we admire the
tasteful creation of the dressmaker; we wonder at the glorious
creation of artist or musician; perhaps we even envy them. But food
and clothing pass away and are forgotten. Even the grand symphony, the
beautiful picture, the graceful statue, may pass into oblivion, and
man forget that they ever existed.
But humanity is endowed with creative powers that are not transient.
The brains builded by the individual are transmitted to his posterity
from generation to generation.
God's greatest power is that of conferring life, sentient life. We
might have imagined that that marvelous power he would have kept for
Himself alone, but He has not done so. We have also the power to
confer life. We can call into existence other human beings, and endow
them with the record of our own lives, giving to them our form, our
features, our measure of vitality, our tendencies, our habits; and
these human beings whom we have thus called into life will never die.
What diviner, more responsible gift could God have conferred upon us
than this? What more worthy of our devout study? In this reverent
attitude of mind let us study this gift of creative power, learning
what we may of its scope and purpose and the material organs through
which it works.
In your study of physiology in school you took up the organs of
individual life. You studied the framework of the body, its machinery,
its internal vital mechanism. You studied about digestion, nutrition,
respiration, elimination, and in this you learned nothing of physical
differences between individuals. All were considered as having the
same organs, used in the same way. Girls have the same number of
bones as boys, the same number of muscles, of vital organs. They
sleep, breathe, eat, digest, grow, according to the same plan. So far
there seems no reason why there should be any distinction of male and
female. But as we come to study what is called special physiology we
discover physical differences and reasons for their existence.
There are certain differences of form that are discernible at a
glance. Men are usually larger than women. They have heavier bones and
bigger muscles. They have broad shoulders and narrow hips, and have
hair upon the face. Women have smooth faces, more rounded outlines,
narrower shoulders and broader hips. In man the broadest part of the
body is at the shoulders, in woman at the hips. This is significant of
a great fact which will be manifest to you when you understand the
functions of each sex. Although each has the same general plan of
individual life, there are special functions which determine the trend
of their lives. The man's broad shoulders are indicative that he is to
bear the heavy burdens of life--struggles for material support--and
woman's broad hips indicate that she is to bear the heavier burden of
the race.
When we come fully to understand the deep significance of sex, we
shall find in it a wonderful revelation of possibilities of
development into a God-likeness that will stir our hearts to their
very depths.
Humanity so weak, so lacking in appreciation of his possibilities, so
groveling when he should soar, has been endowed with powers that give
him control over the destiny of the race. We may well exclaim, with
Young:
"How poor, how rich, how abject, how august,
How complicate, how wonderful is man!
How passing wonder He who made him such!
Who centred in his make such strange extremes!
From diff'rent natures, marvelously mix'd!
Connection exquisite of distant worlds!
Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain!
Midway from nothing to the Deity!"
CHAPTER XI.
BUILDING BRAINS.
When you were born you were, as all babies are, deaf, dumb, blind, and
helpless, but immediately the external world began to act upon you.
Then began the process of mind-building. You began to experience
sensations of heat and cold, of hunger, of pain. The eyes began at
once to recognize the light, the ears to become aware of sounds. After
a time, objects were made clear to your sight and certain sounds were
recognized. You learned your mother's face and voice, and, little by
little, became acquainted with all the objects in the world of home.
You began to use your limbs, and in this also you were at work
building your mind. We do not sufficiently realize that every aimless
movement of the baby has in reality a great purpose--that of creating
brainpower sufficient to enable the baby to control itself in all its
voluntary movements. We do not think that the fluttering hands and
little kicking feet are really building brains, but this is so. And
all of life's experiences have been building brain for you ever since.
Professor Elmer Gates tells us that only about ten per cent. of our
brains are cultivated, that there is a vast field of brain
possibilities lying undeveloped in each one of us, and that these
possibilities are to be developed through cultivation of the senses.
So while I have been talking to you of the care of your body, I have
been advocating that which will in reality develop mind.
We have learned that certain areas of brain govern certain movements
of body. For example, anatomists know not only where the general motor
area is located, but they can indicate the very spot where any special
motor-force is generated.
In the case of a mill girl who was subject to epilepsy and had pain in
her right thumb at each attack, it was decided to remove the part of
the brain which governed the motions of that thumb. This they could do
because they knew just where that motor-center lies, and yet they were
able to take out no more than that, for when the wound was healed she
had full use of all of her hand except the thumb.
We may know that by exercising a certain organ we are building up a
certain part of the brain. For example, the man who has cultivated his
hearing until he can hear sounds inaudible to ordinary men, has made
for himself more brain-cells in the hearing area. If he has cultivated
his sight assiduously, he has created more visual cells. If his touch
has been cultivated, his brain has received new touch
sensation-cells. And Professor Gates asserts that his mental ability
has been thereby increased. You will be interested in hearing of his
experiments with animals and what he has learned therefrom.
He says he has demonstrated that it is possible to give to an animal
or a human being more brains, and consequently a better use of the
mental faculties. During twelve months, for five or six hours a day,
he trained dogs to discriminate colors. He placed several hundred tin
pans, painted different tints, in the yard with the dogs. At one time
he put their food under pans of a certain tint. When they had learned
to go at once to these pans for their food, he changed the color.
Again he arranged it so that they would receive an electric shock if
they touched pans of any color save the particular one. They soon
learned to avoid all the pans except those of this tint. So, by many
different methods, he trained them to recognize shades and tints until
they could discriminate between seven shades of red and as many shades
of green, and in many ways they manifested more mental ability than
any untrained dog. While these dogs were being trained, another group
of dogs were being deprived of the use of sight by being kept in a
darkened room.
At the end of the year both groups of dogs were killed and their
brains dissected. He found that the dogs kept in the darkness had
less than the usual number of cells in the seeing areas, and the cells
were smaller, while the dogs which had been trained to discriminate
between tints and shades of color many times a day had a far greater
number of larger and more complex brain-cells in the seeing areas than
any dog of that age and species ever had before. "Therefore," says
Professor Gates, "mind activity creates organic structure."
Prof. Gates discovered other things of equal importance. He carried
his observations to successive generations, and found that the fifth
generation was born with a far greater number of brain-cells than
could be found in animals not descended from trained ancestors.
This is not only interesting, but of value. You will remember, in our
talk concerning your value, we spoke of your value to the race, and
learned that in cultivating yourself in any direction you were adding
to the welfare of future generations. That was only a general
statement, and now you can see how it can be. You see that if you can
make more brains for yourself you are also making more brains for your
posterity. Or if you fail to make brains for yourself, posterity will
in like degree be defrauded.
Many people have the idea that we are obliged to be satisfied with our
dower of mental ability, and so are excusable for failing to reach as
high a level as some others. If we really believed that we could
create brains we would not sit down and sigh over small mental
capacity, but go to work at once in building minds for ourselves.
And first, we must learn to control our thoughts and make them go
where we send them. In too many cases thoughts wander here and there,
with no power governing and guiding them.
When we are sauntering in the wood we sometimes come upon pathways,
and we know at once that many, many footsteps of men or animals have
been needed to make the paths. If those who walked here had wandered
each in his own way, no path would have been made. One pair of feet
going often over the same ground will make a path. So the thoughts,
traversing the same areas of brain, will make records on the
brain-cells which we may call paths. Every time a thought follows the
same line it creates a deeper impression, and makes it easier to go
over the same territory again. In this way habits are formed. If the
thoughts are good, the habits will be good; if evil, the habits will
be bad.
It is not hard to understand how much easier it is to form a habit
than to overcome it. The emotions, like the thoughts, create habits;
but, more than this, they create actual physical conditions.
It was my pleasure and profit once to have a conversation with
Professor Gates in his laboratory, and he showed me an instrument
wherein he condenses the breath. He then subjects it to a chemical
reagent, and by the precipitate formed he knows what was the mental
condition of the individual, whether he were angry, sorrowful or
remorseful. In five minutes after a fit of anger he finds the
excretory organs beginning to throw out the poison which anger has
created. Only five minutes suffice to create the poison, but half an
hour is none too much to eliminate it.
Think what must be the bodily state of one who is constantly irritated
or angry, who feels jealousy, hatred, or revenge. With body poisoned
by these malevolent passions he cannot feel well, for his physical
organs cannot do good work unless fed by pure blood. Professor Gates
finds that the benevolent emotions create life-giving germs in the
body; so, to love others is not only helpful to them, but it also
gives us new life.
Anger, worry, hatred, jealousy, are suicidal emotions. We cannot for
our own sakes afford to indulge in them, while from selfish reasons
alone we should be incited to kindness, generosity, sympathy, and
love.
CHAPTER XII.
YOU ARE MORE THAN BODY OR MIND.
We have talked of your body and your mind, but as yet not of yourself.
You are not body; you are not mind; but you possess both. You are
spirit, created by God, who is spirit; therefore you are His child.
You may not have thought much of this fact, but that has not changed
the fact. No failure to recognize God as your father changes His
relationship to you. No conduct of yours can make you any less His
child.
"Well," you may say, "if that is so, what does it matter, then, what I
do? If disobedience or sin cannot make me less God's child, why should
I be good and obedient?" Because, dear heart, your conduct changes
your attitude towards Him. You might not know that I am your mother;
you might know it and choose to disobey my wishes; yet in both cases I
should still be your mother, and no more or less in one case than in
the other. But you will have no difficulty in understanding that in
one case you would be a loving, helpful, obedient daughter, a comfort
and delight to me; in the other, a disobedient, willful, unloving
daughter, a care and trouble.
We are God's children, each of us, dependent on His love and bounty
for protection, food, friends, intellect, even life. Is it dignified
and noble in us to ignore and disobey Him? Indeed the most worthy and
dignified thing we can do is to recognize ourselves as God's children
and be obedient. It is a wonderful glory to be a child of God. It
means that we have Godlike powers. The children of human parents are
like them in their capacities. Children of God must have capacities
that are Godlike.
This is true even of the most ignorant or degraded. They have in
themselves divine possibilities.
If you can get this thought fully engrafted into your consciousness,
it seems to me you can never willfully do wrong, can never condescend
to a mean or ignoble deed, because you recognize your divine
inheritance, and feel compelled by it to live truly, nobly.
Being children of God puts on us certain obligations towards Him, but
it also puts on God certain obligations towards us. "What!" you say;
"God the Infinite under obligations to man, the finite? The Creator
under obligations to the created?" Oh, yes.
We recognize the fact that human parents are under obligations to care
for their children, to protect them, to educate them, to give them
opportunities. Even such are the obligations of God towards His human
children, and He fulfills them. All our earthly blessings are from His
hand. Home, friends, shelter, food, are gifts of His love. He takes
such minute care of us that if for one second of time He would forget
us, we should be annihilated. He educates us. He does not send us away
to a boarding-school where we hear from Him but seldom, but He has a
home-school where He is both Father and Teacher, and His methods of
instruction are divinely wise.
The injudicious love of earthly parents often induces them to do for
their children things it would be far better to let the children do
for themselves. I once knew a boy of seven years, as intelligent as
the ordinary child, who had never been allowed to go down stairs alone
in his life for fear he would fall. This unwise care of the parents
had resulted in the child's being timid, fearful, and unable to care
for himself. He would cry if he fell, and would lie still sobbing
until some one came to pick him up and quiet him with caresses. At the
same time I saw a boy of four who could run up and down stairs, go to
the store alone to make purchases, and who, if he fell, would jump up
quickly, saying, "O, that didn't hurt." Which child had been better
protected--the one who had been cared for by an overindulgent parent,
or the one who, by judicious stimulation to self-help, had learned to
care for himself?
God teaches us how to help ourselves, and circumstances of life which
we so often think hard and cruel are only the means by which we are
being trained to be strong. The things we call failure, worriment, and
hardship, are only the little tumbles by which we are learning to
walk.
The heathen philosopher, Seneca, says: "God gives His best scholars
the hardest lessons." We know how proud we would feel if our
school-teacher would say, "This is a hard problem, but I believe you
can solve it." We would be stimulated to work night and day to justify
his confidence in our ability. But when a little trial comes in life
we are quite apt to say, "God is so hard in His dealings with me. Why
should He be so unkind?" instead of saying: "These hard things of life
are a test of my scholarship, and are an evidence of my Teacher's
confidence in my ability."
I would like you to get this thought fixed in your mind so firmly that
you will feel sure that all circumstances of life are but lessons in
God's great school, and, rightly used, will be the means of promoting
you to higher grades.
No scholar wants to stay always in the primary department because it
is easy there. He welcomes each promotion, although he knows it means
harder lessons and new difficulties. He looks forward to college or
university with pride, even though lessons grow harder and harder.
God's school of earthly life has in it all grades of advancement. Will
you be a studious, courageous scholar and try to learn life's lessons
well? It is such a wonderful thing to be a child of God, for that
means to be an heir of God, an heir of His wisdom, His strength, His
glory, His powers. "All things are yours," says Paul; "life, death,
things present and things to come, all are yours, and ye are Christ's,
and Christ is God's."
CHAPTER XIII.
SPECIAL PHYSIOLOGY.
With a feeling of reverence for ourselves we now take up the subject
of special physiology to learn what makes us women. In the study of
general physiology we find very few physical differences in the sexes,
but when we come to investigate what is called the reproductive system
we find entire difference of structure and of function.
Boys and girls in early childhood are much alike in their
inclinations. They both love activity--to run, to climb, to shout, to
laugh, to play. If left to themselves one sees not much more
difference between boys and girls than between different individuals
of the same sex. But as they grow and develop they begin to take on
characteristics that indicate the evolution of sex.
The boy grows rapidly in height, his voice breaks, the signs of a
moustache appear, he seems constrained and embarrassed in society, and
yet he begins to show more politeness towards women and more of an
inclination to be gallant to girls. He is becoming a man, and assumes
manlike airs. Often, too, he becomes restless and willful, hard to
govern, self-assertive, with an assumption of wisdom that provokes
laughter from his elders. The boy is passing through a serious crisis
and needs much wise and loving care. There are inner forces awakening
that move him strangely; he does not understand himself, neither do
his friends seem to understand him. Sometimes they snub and nag him,
sometimes they tease and make fun of him. In either case he does not
find home a happy place, and frequently leaves it to seek more
sympathetic companionship elsewhere.
I once spoke to an audience of women and girls along this line, and
appealed to the mothers and sisters to be kind to the boys in their
homes who were between twelve and eighteen years of age, to remember
that they were passing through the critical period of transition from
boyhood to manhood, and to try and help them by sympathy and kindness.
Some time later, as I was on the train, a young lady came and sat down
by me and said: "I want to thank you for what you said to us the other
day about boys. I have a brother about sixteen, and we have done just
as you said; we have teased him about his moustache, and his voice,
and his awkwardness, and laughed the more because it seemed to touch
him. He had gotten so that he never would do anything for us girls,
and we called him an old bear. Since I heard you I concluded that we
had done wrong and I would make a change, so that evening I said
kindly, 'Charlie, don't you want me to tie your cravat? I'd like to,
ever so much.' I shall never forget the surprised look he gave me. It
seemed as if he could not believe that I, his sister, wanted to do
something to please him, but as soon as he saw I really meant it he
accepted my offer with thanks, and since then it seems as if he could
not do enough for me. Really I have almost cried to think that so
little a thing would make him so grateful. I have invited him to go
out with me several times, and he seems so glad to go. Then I've begun
to make things for his room--little fancy things that I never thought
a boy would care for--and he has appreciated them so much. Why, he
even stays in his room sometimes, now, instead of going off with the
boys. And the other day, when one of the boys came to see him, I heard
him say, 'Come up and see my room,' and the other boy said, 'Well, I
wish some one would fix up _my_ room in such a jolly fashion.'
Really," said the girl, "if you have done nothing on your trip but
what you have done for me, in showing me how to be good to my brother,
it has paid for you to come."
I often think of this little incident when I see boys at this critical
age who are snubbed and teased just because they are leaving the land
of boyhood to begin the difficult climb up the slopes of early manhood
towards the grander height of maturity; and I wish all parents,
sisters and older brothers would manifest a sympathy with the boy who,
swayed by inner forces and influenced by outward temptation, is in a
place of great danger.
The girl at this period is also passing through a crisis, but this
fact is better understood by her friends than is the crisis of the
boy's life. Her parents are anxious that she shall pass the crisis
safely, and they have more patience with her eccentricities. She, too,
often shows nervousness, irritability, petulance, or willfulness. She
has headaches and backaches, she manifests lassitude and weariness,
and is, perhaps, quite changed from her former self. She weeps easily
or over nothing at all. She is dissatisfied with herself and the whole
world. She feels certain vague, romantic longings that she could not
explain if she tried. She inclines toward the reading of sensational
love stories, and if not well instructed and self-respecting may be
easily led into flirtations or conduct that later in life may make her
blush to remember. Certain physical changes begin to be manifest. She
increases rapidly in height, her figure grows fuller and more rounded,
her breasts are often sore and tender. Hair makes its appearance on
the body, and altogether she seems to be blossoming out into a fuller
and riper beauty. She is changing from the girl to the woman, and this
is a matter of sex. At this time the organs of sex, which have been
dormant, awaken and take on their activity, and it is this awakening
which is making itself felt throughout her whole organization.
We are sometimes apt to think that sex is located in certain organs
only, but in truth sex, while centralized in the reproductive organs,
makes itself manifest throughout the whole organization. I used to
feel somewhat indignant when I heard people talk of sex in mind, and I
boldly asserted that it did not exist, that intellect was neuter and
had no reference to sex; but I do not feel so now. When I see what an
influence the awakening of sex has upon the entire body and upon the
character, I am led to believe that sex inheres in mind as well. That
does not mean that the brain of one sex is either inferior or superior
to the other; it means only that they differ; that men and women see
things from different standpoints; that they are the two eyes of the
race, and the use of both is needed to a clear understanding of any
problem of human interest.
You know that the true perspective of objects cannot be had with one
eye only, for each eye has its own range of vision, and one eye can
see much farther on one side of an object than the other can. You can
try this for yourself.
If, then, in viewing the vital problems of life we have the man's view
only or the woman's view only, we have not the true perspective. We
cannot say that either has superior powers of vision, but we can say
that they differ, as this difference is inherent in them as men and
women, and not merely as individuals.
Instead, then, of looking at sex as circumscribed, and perhaps as
something low and vulgar, to be thought of and spoken of only with
whispers or questionable mirth, we should see that sex is God's
divinest gift to humanity, the power through which we come into the
nearest likeness to Himself--the function by which we become creators
and transmitters of our powers of body, mind, and soul.
It is important that a young woman should understand her own structure
and the functions of all her organs, and so, with this feeling of
reverence for sex, we will begin this study.
The trunk of the body is divided into three cavities; the upper or
thoracic cavity contains the heart and lungs; the central or abdominal
cavity contains the organs of nutrition, the stomach, liver, bowels,
etc.; the lower or pelvic cavity contains two organs of elimination,
the bladder and the rectum, and also the organs of reproduction, or of
sex. Between the outlet of bladder and bowels is the inlet to the
reproductive organs. This inlet is a narrow channel called the vagina,
and is about six inches in length. At the upper end is the mouth of
the womb or uterus. The words mean the same, but womb is Anglo-Saxon
and _uterus_ is Latin, and as Latin is the language of science, we
will use that word. The uterus is the little nest or room in which the
unborn baby has to live for three-fourths of a year. It is a small
organ, about the size and shape of a small flattened pear. It is
suspended with the small end downwards, and it is hollow. It is held
in place by broad ligaments that extend outward to the sides, and by
short, round ligaments from front to back. These ligaments do not hold
it firmly in place, for it is necessary that it should be able to rise
out of the pelvic into the abdominal cavity during pregnancy, as the
baby grows too large to be contained in the small pelvic space.
On the posterior sides of the two broad ligaments are two small oval
organs which are called ovaries, meaning the place of the eggs.
CHAPTER XIV.
BECOMING A WOMAN.
Perhaps you will remember that I once told you that all life is from
an egg, the life of the plant, the fish, the bird, the human being. In
the book "What a Young Girl Ought to Know" we discussed how all life
originates in an egg, and why there must needs be fathers as well as
mothers. We found that some eggs were small, were laid by the mothers
in various places, and then left to develop or to die. Others were
larger, covered with a large shell, and kept warm by the mothers
sitting over them until the little ones were hatched. Others were so
small that they developed in the mother's body until, as living
creatures, they were born into the world. This is the case with the
human being. He is first an egg in the mother's ovary. When this egg
has reached a certain stage of development it passes from the ovary
through a tube into the uterus. If it meets there, or on its way
there, the fertilizing principle of the male, it remains there and
develops into the child. If it does not meet this principle, it passes
out through the vagina and is lost.
But the eggs, or ova--which is the Latin word meaning eggs--do not
begin to ripen until the girl reaches the age of thirteen or fourteen,
or, in other words, until she begins to become a woman. This passing
away of the ovum (singular of ova) is called ovulation, and it occurs
in the woman about every twenty-eight days. The uterus is lined by a
mucous membrane similar to that which lines the mouth, and at this
time of ovulation this membrane becomes swollen and soft, and little
hemorrhages, or bleedings, occur for three or four days, the blood
passing away through the vagina. This is called menstruation.
Sometimes, when girls have not been told beforehand of the facts of
menstruation, they become greatly frightened at seeing this blood and
imagine that they have some dreadful disease. If they have no friend
to whom they can speak freely they sometimes do very injudicious
things in their efforts to remove that which to them seems so strange
and inexplicable. I have known of girls who washed their clothes in
cold water and put them on wet, and so took cold and perhaps checked
the menstrual flow, and as a consequence were injured for life, or may
even have died years after as a result of this unwise conduct.
The girl who is wisely taught will recognize in this the outward sign
of the fact that she has reached womanhood, that she has entered upon
what is called the maternal period of a woman's life, the period when
it is possible for her to become a mother.
This does not mean that she should become a mother while so young. It
only means that the sex organs are so far developed that they are
beginning to take up their peculiar functions. But they are like the
immature buds of the flower, and need time for a perfect development.
If she understands this, and recognizes her added value to the world
through the perfecting of her entire organism, she will desire to take
good care of herself, and during these years of early young womanhood
to develop into all that is possible of sweetness, grace, purity, and
all true womanliness.
Girls who are not wisely taught sometimes feel that this new physical
function is a vexatious hindrance to their happiness. It is often
accompanied with pain, and its periodical recurrence interferes with
their plans for pleasure, and they in ignorance sometimes say,
rebelliously, "O, I hate being a woman!"
A young woman once came to consult me professionally. She was a
well-formed, good-looking girl, to all outward appearance lacking
nothing in her physical make-up; but she was now twenty-two and had
never menstruated, so she was aware that for some reason she was not
like other girls. She came to ask me to make an examination and find
out, if possible, what was wrong. She was engaged to be married, and
knew that motherhood was in some way connected with menstruation, and
she thought it might be possible that her physical condition would
preclude the possibility of her becoming a mother, and, if so, it
would be dishonorable to marry. Upon examination I discovered that all
the organs of reproduction were lacking. When I disclosed this fact to
her she exclaimed, with sadness, "Oh, why was I not made like other
girls? I have heard them complain because they were girls, but I think
if they were in my place, and knew that they could never have a home
and children of their own, they would feel they had greater reason
then to complain."
I think so, too. We seldom think of the fact that upon sex depend all
the sweet ties of home and family. It is because of sex that we are
fathers, mothers and children; that we have the dear family life, with
its anniversaries of weddings and birthdays. It is through sex that
the "desolate of the earth are set in families," and love and
generosity have sway instead of selfishness. For this reason we ought
to regard sex with reverent thought, to hold it sacred to the highest
purposes, to speak of it ever with purest delicacy, and never with
jesting or prurient smiles. I do not want you to center your thought
on the physical facts of sex, but I would like to have you feel that
womanhood, which is the mental, moral and physical expression of sex,
is a glorious, divine gift, to be received with solemn thankfulness.
I want you, for the sake of a perfect womanhood, to take care of your
bodily health, and yet I do not want you to feel that a woman must of
necessity be a periodical semi-invalid.
CHAPTER XV.
ARTIFICIALITIES OF CIVILIZED LIFE.
Menstruation is a perfectly physiological process and should be
without pain. Indeed, Dr. Mary Putnam Jacobi maintains that a woman
ought to feel more life, vigor and ambition at that period than at any
other time. As a fact, however, the majority of civilized women feel
more or less lassitude and discomfort, and many suffer intensely.
Whenever there is actual pain at any stage of the monthly period, it
is because something is wrong, either in the dress, or the diet, or
the personal and social habits of the individual. We certainly cannot
believe that a kind and just God has made it necessary for women to
suffer merely because they are women, and the observation of travelers
among uncivilized peoples seems to indicate that where life is
conducted according to nature's laws, the limitations of sex are less
observable.
It is difficult for us to understand how very far our lives are from
being natural. Professor Emmett, a world-renowned specialist in
diseases peculiar to women, says: "At the very dawn of womanhood the
young girl begins to live an artificial life utterly inconsistent with
normal development. The girl of the period is made a woman before her
time by associating too much with her elders, and in diet, dress,
habits and tastes becomes at an early age but a reflection of her
elder sisters. She may have acquired every accomplishment, and yet
will have been kept in ignorance of the simplest features of her
organization, and of the requirements for the preservation of her
health. Her bloom is often as transient as that of the hothouse plant,
where the flower has been forced by cultivation to an excess of
development by stunting the growth of its branches and limiting the
spread of its roots. A girl is scarcely in her teens before custom
requires a change in her dress. Her shoulder-straps and buttons are
given up for a number of strings about her waist and the additional
weight of an increased length in skirt is added. She is unable to take
the proper kind or necessary amount of exercise, even if she were not
taught that it would be unladylike to make the attempt. Her waist is
drawn into a shape little adapted to accommodate the organs placed
there, and as the abdominal and spinal muscles are seldom brought into
play they become atrophied. The viscera are thus compressed and
displaced, and as the full play of the abdominal wall and the descent
of the diaphragm are interfered with, the venous blood is hindered in
its return to the heart."
Since Professor Emmett wrote this, public sentiment has changed, and
it is no longer unladylike for girls to exercise; but with this
increased freedom in custom should also come increased physical
freedom through healthful clothing that allows perfect use of every
muscle, more especially of the breathing muscles. I am sure you would
rather pay out your money for that which shall add to your health and
real happiness than to pay physicians to help you from suffering the
just penalty of your own wrongdoing, and that is why I am anxious to
give you this needed instruction. I do not care to have you study much
about diseases, but I want you to understand very fully how, through
care of yourself, to prevent disease.
CHAPTER XVI.
SOME CAUSES OF PAINFUL MENSTRUATION.
There should be no pain at menstruation, but that pain is quite common
cannot be denied. Let us look for other causes than are found in the
dress.
One frequent cause is found in the ignorance of girls, and their
consequent injudicious conduct at the time of the beginning of sexual
activity. At this time of life the girl is often called lazy because
she manifests lassitude, and this is nature's indication that she
should rest. The vital forces are busy establishing a new function,
and the energy that has been expressed in bodily activity is now being
otherwise employed. The girl who has been properly brought up, whose
muscles are strong, and whose nervous supply is abundant, may have no
need of especial care at this time, but the average girl needs much
judicious care, in order that her physical womanhood shall be
healthfully established. She should be guarded from taking cold, from
overexertion, from social dissipation, and especially from mental
excitement, and other causes of nervousness. I would like to call your
attention to the great evil of romance-reading, both in the
production of premature development and in the creation of morbid
mental states which will tend to the production of physical evils,
such as nervousness, hysteria, and a host of maladies which largely
depend upon disturbed nerves.
Girls are not apt to understand the evils of novel-reading, and may
think it is only because mothers have outlived their days of romance
that they object to their daughters enjoying such sentimental reading;
but the wise mother understands the effects of sensational reading
upon the physical organization, and wishes to protect her daughter
from the evils thus produced.
It is not only that novel-reading engenders false and unreal ideas of
life, but the descriptions of love-scenes, of thrilling, romantic
episodes, find an echo in the girl's physical system and tend to
create an abnormal excitement of her organs of sex, which she
recognizes only as a pleasurable mental emotion, with no comprehension
of the physical origin or the evil effects.
Romance-reading by young girls will, by this excitement of the bodily
organs, tend to create their premature development, and the child
becomes physically a woman months, or even years, before she should.
In one case it became my duty to warn a girl of eleven, who was an
omnivorous reader of romances, that such reading was in all
probability hastening her development, and she would become a woman in
bodily functions while she ought yet to be a child. Her indications of
approaching womanhood were very apparent. By becoming impressed by my
words she gave up romance-reading, devoted herself to outdoor sports,
to nature studies, and the vital forces diverted from the reproductive
system were employed in building up her physical energy, her health
improved, her nervousness disappeared, and three years later her
function of menstruation was painlessly established.
A frequent cause of painful menstruation is found in habitual neglect
of the bowels. The evils of constipation are common to the majority of
women and girls, and the foundation is laid in childhood. Mothers are
not careful enough in instructing children in the need of care in this
respect, and so the habit is formed early in life, and the results are
felt later.
If the bowels are not evacuated regularly the matter to be cast out of
the body accumulates in the rectum and large bowel, and by pressure
the circulation of the blood is impeded and congestion ensues. This
extends to all the pelvic organs; the uterus and ovaries thus
congested will soon manifest disease, and painful menstruation be the
result.
One of the most frequent causes of pain is congestion produced by
displacements. People are very apt to think that the displacement of
the uterus is the main factor, but in my opinion it is a secondary
condition, and not the one to be first considered. The uterus is a
small organ, not vital to the individual, is very movable, and not
sensitive, so that its displacement alone could hardly be considered
sufficient to cause so great a train of evils as is frequently
manifest. But the liver, stomach and bowels are large, vital organs,
and their displacement leads to greater consequences. You learned at
school that the bowels are over twenty feet in length, weigh as much
as twelve or fifteen pounds, are supported in a way that makes it
possible for them to sag into the abdominal cavity and press upon the
pelvic organs. Dr. Emerson, of the Boston School of Oratory, asserts
that in most adults the stomach and bowels are from two to six inches
below their normal location; and, as I have said before, Dr. Kellogg
often finds the stomach lying in the abdominal cavity as low down as
the umbilicus. What has caused this sagging of the abdominal viscera?
They certainly must have been intended to keep their place unless
there has been some interference. We find just such interference in
the ordinary arrangement of the clothing. Tight waists and bands, and
skirts supported by the hips, are cause sufficient for these
displacements.
Just above the hips there is no bony structure to protect and support
the soft, muscular parts. They yield to pressure, and the internal
viscera, deprived of muscular support, sink until they rest on the
pelvic organs. If, when you look at your abdomen, you see depressions
or hollows on each side below the floating ribs, you may know that the
bowels have sagged down out of place. If you feel great weariness,
backache, or a dragged down feeling in standing or walking, you may
know that the contents of the abdomen are pulling on their attachments
or pressing on the pelvic organs. Thus displaced, circulation is
hindered and the organs all become congested, or filled with blood
that moves very slowly. This congested condition is increased at
menstruation, and great pain may result.
It is well to have the counsel of some good, honest physician under
such circumstances, but should you be where it is not possible to have
such counsel, you may still be able to do something to help yourself.
In the first place, you can rearrange your clothing so as to relieve
all the organs from external weight or pressure, and, in the second
place, you can support the abdominal walls by applying pressure from
below. I have known cases of painful menstruation entirely relieved by
simply supporting the bowels by a bandage, thus relieving the uterus
of pressure and allowing a free circulation through all the internal
organs.
A very simple and practical bandage can be made at home at almost no
cost, either in time or money. Buy some thin, cheap cotton flannel.
Take lengthwise of the goods a strip long enough to go around the body
at the hips, which will be a yard or a little over, and wide enough to
fit from the thighs up to the waist, perhaps eight inches. Put darts
on the sides and in the center of the back, to make it fit the figure.
Make a couple of straps four inches wide and half a yard long; cut off
one end of each diagonally. Sew these slanting ends to the lower side
of the band about four inches from the center, that is eight inches
apart, and so that the short side of the strap will be towards the
center. Do not hem either band or straps, but overcast them; then they
will not feel uncomfortable.
In order to adjust the band properly it will be well to lie down on
the back upon the bandage with the knees raised. Press the hands low
down upon the abdomen and raise the contents. Repeat this several
times; then draw the bandage around, pin with safety pins, draw the
straps up between the limbs and fasten with safety pins to the
bandage. The support thus given is found to be very comfortable, and
girls who have much trouble in walking or standing during their
menstrual periods would find this simple bandage a great help at that
time.
When the bandage is removed at night you should rub and manipulate the
abdominal walls so as to increase the circulation and stimulate in
them a better circulation and thus make you stronger.
By deep breathing in a proper standing attitude the abdominal viscera
are lifted upward, and if the firmness of the abdominal walls is at
the same time increased by exercise, the difficulties may be largely
overcome. Some exercises will be found in Chapter XXIII. which are
calculated to strengthen the walls and to lift the internal organs.
I wish to call your attention to a cause of displacement that is quite
generally overlooked, and that is, a wrong attitude.
Dr. Eliza Mosher has made a very thorough study of this matter, and
she says that the common habit of standing on one foot is productive
of marked deformities of both face and body and of serious
displacements of internal organs. It is seldom a girl or woman can be
found whose body is perfectly symmetrical. By standing on one foot,
the hip and shoulder of one side approach each other, and so lessen
the space within the abdomen on that side. On the other side a support
has been removed for the contents of the abdomen, and they sag down
until they pry the uterus out of place and press it over towards the
side where there is less pressure. The broad ligament on one side is
stretched from use and on the other side shortened from disuse, and so
the uterus remains permanently dislocated.
Dr. Mosher thinks that standing continually with the weight on the
left foot is more injurious than bearing it on the right foot, for it
causes the uterus and ovaries to press upon the rectum and so produces
a mechanical constipation, especially during menstruation.
Wrong habits of sitting will produce the same results. If the girl
sits at school with one elbow on the desk, the head will be turned to
the opposite side and the spine will be inclined from the
perpendicular, and a lateral curvature be likely to result. If she
carries her books always on the same side, it will tend to increase
the curvature. If she sits with both elbows supported, her shoulders
will be pushed up. If her body is twisted as she sits, a strain comes
upon the muscles, and some ligaments will be lengthened and others
shortened, thus producing a lateral curvature.
To sit "on the small of the back," that is, slipping down in the
chair, bracing the shoulders against the chair-back, tends to injure
the nerves by pressure, and also to create a posterior curvature of
the spine.
Does it not seem unfortunate that we should allow ourselves even to
form such wrong habits of sitting and standing? And now we ask, How
shall we know when we are in a correct attitude?
We have comparatively few correct examples to imitate. I notice people
everywhere, and I see that old and young stand incorrectly. The head
is poked forward, the shoulders are rounded, the chest is flattened,
and the curve in the lower part of the back is straightened. The whole
figure is out of balance, and therefore not harmonious. Not only is
the beauty of the figure destroyed, but the internal organs are
displaced. Many a mother who sees her daughter thus growing
round-shouldered keeps telling her to throw her shoulders back; but to
follow this command only increases the difficulty. The shoulders are
not primarily at fault, but the trouble originates in non-use of the
front waist muscles. These muscles, weakened by disease because of
tight clothing and corset steels, and also by cramped positions in
school or at work, refuse to hold the body erect, and it "lops" just
at this point. This "lopping" disturbs the harmonious relation of the
weights of shoulders, abdomen, head, and the large lower gluteal
muscles with which nature has cushioned the lower part of the body,
and so they are obliged to readjust themselves to balance each other,
and the awkward, ungainly, unhealthful posture results.
What is needed is to restore the right relation of these weights and
all will again be harmonious. Do not interfere with the shoulders, but
straighten the front of the body by elevating the chest and raising
the head until it is supported directly on the spine, letting the
shoulders take care of themselves. If the abdomen is now held back and
the gluteal muscles raised, the beautiful curves of the spine will be
restored, the shoulders will be straightened, and the internal organs
will have a chance to resume their natural position.
A very easy way of finding out if you have the correct attitude is to
place your toes against the bottom of the door. Now bring your chest
up to touch the door, and throw the lower part of the spine backward
so that there will be a space between the abdomen and the door. Place
the head erect, with the chin drawn in towards the neck, and you will
have very nearly the correct attitude. It may seem a little tiresome
at first, because you will be apt to hold yourself in position with
needless tension of muscles, but you will soon learn to relax the
unnecessary tension, and then you will find the position the most
comfortable possible. You can walk farther without fatigue, and stand
longer without backache, because the body is placed in the attitude in
which all parts occupy their designed relation to each other.
One very important fact is that in the wrong attitude the abdominal
organs crowd down into the pelvis, while in the correct position they
are supported and kept from sagging, so that the matter of a correct
attitude is not only a matter of beauty, but also of health.
In sitting, also, the most comfortable posture is the most healthful;
that is, with the body squarely placed on the seat, and equally
supported upon the pelvis--not leaning back against the chair, unless
the chair should chance to be so constructed that it supports the
lower part of the back and keeps the body erect.
CHAPTER XVII.
"FEMALE DISEASES."
We hear a great deal in these days of "female diseases," by which is
meant the displacements of the organs of the reproductive system; that
is, of the uterus, ovaries, etc. These displacements are many, for the
uterus may not only drop down out of place, but it may be tipped
towards one side or the other, to the front or the back; or it may be
bent upon itself in various directions. These different displacements
cause much pain, and often result in ulcerations and profuse
discharges which are known as the "whites," or scientifically as
leucorrhea.
I only mention these things incidentally, so that I may call your
attention to the things you may do to prevent them.
A great many girls and women are spending large sums of money in being
doctored for these difficulties who need not suffer with them at all
if they had known how to dress healthfully; and many are bearing much
anxiety over the possibility of becoming sufferers with these
distressing diseases who could have their burden of fear removed by
the knowledge that "female diseases," in the great majority of cases,
are the results of wrong habits of dress and life. Leucorrhea is not
a disease. It is a symptom of abnormal conditions, and to be cured it
is needful that the conditions shall be understood.
Dr. Kellogg says, "Leucorrhea may result from simple congestion of the
bloodvessels of the vaginal mucous membrane, due to improper dress. It
may also be occasioned by taking cold, and by a debilitated condition
of the stomach."
Leucorrhea is merely an abnormal increase of a normal secretion. All
mucous membrane secretes mucus in small quantities--enough to keep the
membrane moist. When from any cause this secretion is increased, we
have what is called a catarrhal condition. As all cavities that
communicate with the air are lined with mucous membrane, this
catarrhal condition may exist in the nose, the throat, the eyes, the
ears, the bowels, or the reproductive organs, and will be named
according to the location.
A natural increase of this secretion takes place just before and after
menstruation, and should occasion no anxiety, but if continued during
the remainder of the month, especially if very profuse, of offensive
odor, or bloody in character, it needs the attention of the skilled
physician.
I do not wish to make you think constantly of yourself as diseased,
and so I do not give you directions as to local self-treatment. Many
symptoms can be overcome by general care of the health-habits of the
girl, and if they do not yield to this general care it is better to
consult a responsible physician than to tamper with yourself.
And here let me give you a word of warning. If you need medical care,
never consult the traveling doctors who advertise to do such wonderful
things. They charge big fees and give a little medicine and then move
on, and you have no redress if they have not accomplished all that
they have promised. They live off the gullibility of people. Again,
never take patent medicines. Wonderful discoveries, favorite
prescriptions and the like may be harmless, and they may not. And even
if they are, how can you judge that they are suited to your special
case? That they cured some one else is not proof that they will
benefit you, and you run a risk by taking them as an experiment. One
very serious danger in the taking of patent medicines is the fact that
they are so largely alcoholic in composition, and girls and women have
all too often been led into the alcohol habit and become habitual
drunkards through taking some advertised remedy.
Another has correctly said: "If you need the consultation and advice
of a physician go to your family physician, or, if you prefer, go to
some other physician; but always select one whose moral character and
acknowledged ability render him a suitable and safe adviser in such a
time of need. Above all things avoid quacks. The policy they pursue is
to frighten you, to work upon your imagination, and to make such
alarming and unreliable statements as will induce you to purchase
their nostrums and subject yourself to such a series of humiliations
and impositions as will enable them to pilfer your purse and without
rendering you in return any value received, but likely leave you in a
much worse condition than they found you."
You will probably be advised by your personal friends, who may know of
your ailments, to take hot douches, and perhaps you may wonder why I
do not prescribe them for leucorrhea, and kindred difficulties.
I do not commend them for the fact that I do not want you to be
turning your constantly anxious thought towards yourself in these
matters. If you need such treatment, let it be prescribed by your
physician, who knows exactly your condition. As far as possible turn
your thoughts from the reproductive system. Take care of your general
health, dress properly, obey all the rules of hygiene in regard to
diet, sleep, bathing, special cleanliness, and care, and then forget
as far as possible the physical facts of womanhood.
An excellent addition to your general bathing can be taken once a week
in the form of a sitz bath, which is effective for cleanliness, and
also for the reduction of congestion. If you have no sitz bath-tub,
an ordinary wash-tub can be made to answer by raising one side an inch
or two by means of some support. Have the water at a comfortable
temperature, say about 98 degrees, and if you have no thermometer you
can gauge the heat by putting in three gallons of cold water and add
one gallon of boiling water. Sit down in the tub and cover yourself
with a blanket. In about ten minutes add by degrees a gallon of cold
water. Remain sitting a minute or two longer, then rub dry.
Many people are afraid to use cold water after hot, in bathing, for
fear they will take cold, but that is just the way to prevent such a
result from the hot bath. The hot water has caused all the pores on
the surface of the body to open, and the bodily heat is rapidly lost
through this cause. The cold water, quickly applied, causes the pores
to close, leaves the skin in a tonic condition, and conserves the
bodily heat. One should never take a hot bath without following it
with a _quick_ cold application to the surface. It should continue,
however, but for a moment.
This kind of a bath is very useful for all chronic congestions of the
abdominal and pelvic viscera, such as piles, constipation, painful
menstruation, leucorrhea, or other affections of the reproductive
organs. It is also very helpful in headaches due to congestion of the
brain. If there is too little blood in the brain it might produce
wakefulness, but when the brain is too full of blood this bath tends
to produce sound and refreshing sleep.
A foot bath may be taken at the same time as the sitz bath, and in
this case the water should be warmer than that in the sitz bath, and
as the person rises from the sitz bath she should step into it, so
that her feet will get the tonic effect of the cold water.
The average age at which menstruation first appears is fourteen, but
some girls menstruate as early as eleven, while others may not develop
till some years later. Frequently, when the girl does not manifest
this symptom of womanly development, the mother becomes anxious and
begins to give forcing medicines. She knows that girls often die with
consumption in their early young womanhood, and has heard that it was
because they did not physically develop, and she fears that such
danger threatens her daughter, and imagines that if something can be
done to "bring on her courses," as she expresses it, the danger will
be averted.
In this case she has reversed cause and effect. The consumptive girl
did not menstruate because she had not the vitality to do so. The
consumption was the cause, the non-menstruation the effect. To produce
hemorrhage from the reproductive system by strong, forcing medicines
is only to increase the danger. The only thing to do is to improve the
general health, and if the girl can increase in strength until she
has more vital force than suffices to keep her alive, the function
that is vital--not to her, but to the race--will establish itself.
The failure of the menses to appear at the average age may be due
merely to a slow development, and in this case there is nothing to do
but wait. If the girl seems well, if she has no backache, no headache,
no general lassitude, no undue nervous symptoms, the mere
non-appearance of the menses need occasion no alarm. If, however, she
has these symptoms, it is an evidence that nature is attempting to
establish the function and is hindered either by general lack of
vitality or by some local condition, and in either case the giving of
forcing medicines would be a mistake. The weekly sitz bath would do no
harm as a semi-local measure. All proper precautions should be
observed as to maintenance of general health and mental serenity, and
if these do not prove sufficient the physician should be consulted.
In the case I mentioned, where the reproductive organs were lacking,
the girl had been subjected to a long course of home medication which
had proven disastrous to her digestion, and yet, as will be readily
understood, had not resulted in the establishment of a function that
is dependent upon organs which, in this case, did not exist.
Sometimes there are slight mechanical hindrances which can only be
determined by the physician, though their presence will be indicated
by the symptoms of menstruation without the accompanying sanguineous
discharge. In these cases the home medication is dangerous. If the
girl regularly has symptoms of approaching menstruation, with pain and
bloating, and these subside without flow, it would be wise to consult
the physician instead of resorting to domestic remedies or letting the
matter go on without attention.
Quite frequently the first appearance of menstruation is followed by
weeks or even months of freedom from its reappearance. In these cases
no alarm need be felt as long as the general health is not affected.
Again, there may be suspension of the function from change of
surroundings. Girls who go away to school often suffer from
irregularity. I have known of a case where the girl never menstruated
during the school year, but was perfectly regular during vacations.
These cases may be accounted for by the nervous strain, the using up
of vital forces in mental effort to such degree that there is nothing
left with which to carry on the menstrual function. In all such cases
it is wise to watch carefully the general health, and if all functions
are not properly conducted, to reduce the strain until the vitality is
able to keep all functions in order.
Girls are sometimes disturbed because the flow is scanty, and think
they should do something to increase the amount. It is no doubt true
that profuse menstrual flow is the result of our artificial lives. If
we lived more normally we should have naturally a scanty menstrual
flow. Therefore if a girl has good health and no monthly pain and the
flow is scanty, she may consider herself as more nearly in a normal
state, and be thankful.
If, however, the menses are suddenly less than normal it denotes a
suppression, which may be the result of cold, exhaustion of body,
weariness of nerves, mental anxiety, or disturbance of the emotions.
If gradual suppression occurs, accompanied by loss of health, it
indicates some constitutional difficulty or local trouble which
demands professional counsel.
Profuse menstruation is also a relative term, as there is no definite
standard as to amount of menstrual flow, nor the length of time it
should continue. The profuseness must be measured by the condition of
the individual. Where health seems fully maintained there would appear
no cause for anxiety. But if there is a marked increase over the
amount usual for the individual, if great weakness and prostration is
produced, either at the time or afterward, it may be called profuse,
and the cause may be either debility, that is weakness, or plethora,
which means fullness. If from the latter, there will be throbbing
headache, pain in the back, and general signs of fever. If from
debility, there will be pallor, weakness, and perhaps an almost
continuous flow.
As may be imagined, the treatment in the two cases will differ. The
full-blooded girl should be put on a plain, unstimulating diet, with
plenty of out-door exercise during the month, but about twenty-four
hours before the flow is expected she should have complete mental and
physical rest. She should remain in bed, and apply cold wet cloths
over the abdomen and between the thighs for an hour at a time, with
intervals of at least one-half hour between the applications. The
bowels should be freed from all fecal matter, and cool, small enemas
be given two or three times a day. If these simple measures do not
avail, the doctor should be consulted.
The pale and debilitated girl needs to rest. Sometimes, if hemorrhage
continues almost from one period to the next, she should remain in bed
even after the flow seems checked. The great desideratum is to build
up the general health, not by tonics, which are usually only
stimulants, but by the judicious observance of the laws of health.
This will, in many cases, call for the advice of the physician, who
can see and study the patient and her special conditions. It is not
safe to trust to book-doctoring.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CARE DURING MENSTRUATION.
I have said that I do not want you to think yourself a semi-invalid
and so be "fussy" about yourself, but I have also said that I want you
to take care of yourself at all times, and especially during your
menstrual periods. How can you make these ideas agree with each other?
I know that many writers say that a girl should spend one day each
month in bed, or at least lying down; that there are some things that
should always be forbidden to girls, simply because they are girls,
such as running up and down stairs. These wholesale restrictions make
girls rebellious at their womanhood. I simply want you to use good
sense at all times in your care of yourself.
Knowing the fact that just before and during menstruation the uterus
is heavier than at other times, because engorged with blood, and
remembering that it is loosely suspended, it is easy to understand
that long walks or severe exercise at the menstrual period will more
easily cause it to sag, and this sagging becoming permanent may cause
pain, backache, and other discomforts. Therefore, having good sense,
you will not plan to take long rides or walks or do any severe
exercise. At the same time moderate exercise in proper clothing will
tend to relieve pelvic congestion by equalizing the circulation, and
if the clothing is properly adjusted and the muscles are strong and
well-developed, an ordinary amount of physical activity may be
beneficial rather than harmful.
Girls are so often told that they must not walk at their monthly
periods, must not study, must not ride, etc., etc., that it really is
no wonder that they feel it a very undesirable thing to be a woman. My
observation leads me to believe that if girls from earliest childhood
were dressed loosely, with no clothing suspended on the hips, if their
muscles were well developed through judicious exercise, they would
seldom find it necessary to be semi-invalids at any time. In fact, we
do sometimes find a young woman who has no consciousness of physical
disturbance during menstruation. She can pursue her usual avocations
without hindrance, and finds her physical womanhood no bar to any
enjoyment.
This is as it should be; but as girls have not all been well developed
and properly dressed, we cannot assert that all girls can be
indifferent to physical conditions at this time. If a girl is well,
has no pain or discomfort, then I would say, let her use good common
sense in the ordering of her daily life and give the matter no special
or anxious thought. If she has pain or uneasiness, let her govern her
life accordingly, using care, taking some rest at the time of the
menses; but, above all things, let her arrange her clothing at all
times so as to secure for herself absolute freedom of movement. Then
let her, during the intervals between the menstrual periods, endeavor
by judicious exercise to build up strong muscular structure around the
vital organs, such structure as will support the _viscera_ where they
belong, and in time she will probably find herself growing free from
menstrual pain.
During the painful periods resulting from congestion it is often
advisable to keep the recumbent position, and to use heat both
externally and internally. However, I would advise never using
alcoholic beverages. Their apparent usefulness lies principally in the
hot water with which they are administered, and the danger of forming
the alcohol habit is too great to justify their use.
There are cases of nervous pain at menstruation that are aggravated by
heat and diminished by cold. I knew such a case where a girl at
school, suffering with menstrual pain, alarmed teachers and friends by
wringing towels out of cold water and laying them over her abdomen.
But the alarm subsided when they saw that the pain soon passed away
under the cold application. The girl was one in whom there were no
local congestions, but great nervous exhaustion and heat always
increased her sufferings, while cold allayed.
I have read that a woman should not bathe or change her underwear
while menstruating. I cannot see how soiled clothing can be more
healthful than that which is clean; and if well-aired, I should no
more object to your putting on clean underwear than to your changing
your dress. Most especially would I advise a frequent change of
napkins, in order to remove those which are soiled from their
irritating contact with the body. A full bath during menstruation
would, for most people, be unadvisable, but the cleansing of the
private parts is imperative. For this, tepid water, with good soap,
may be used daily or oftener. Other parts of the body may be rubbed
with a wet cloth, followed by vigorous, dry rubbing. Cleanliness at
all times is certainly a mark of refinement.
You should use good sense and not run out in thin slippers on wet or
cold ground; but if your feet get wet through accident, keep in motion
until you can make a change of shoes and stockings. There is little
danger from wet feet to those in good health, if they keep in vigorous
motion.
As to other rules, they are those that pertain to the care of health
at all times: loose clothing, deep breathing, wholesome food, plenty
of sleep, sunlight, pure air, exercise according to your strength,
and, above all, serenity of mind, accepting the fact of physical
womanhood, together with a recognition of its sacredness and dignity.
As a minor item, I would suggest that the napkins be fastened to
straps that go over the shoulder and are then joined together in front
and back to an end piece, on each of which a button is sewn.
Buttonholes in the napkins at the corners, diagonal from each other,
will make them easily attached or removed. The napkins should be of a
material that is quickly absorbent of the flow. Cheesecloth is cheap,
and can be burned or otherwise disposed of after using. It may be
protected by an outer strip of unbleached muslin which is almost
water-proof.
A very comfortable way of arranging napkins that are to be used from
time to time is to take a piece of linen or cotton diaper sixteen
inches square. About three inches from one end, make on each side an
incision four inches long. Fold this strip in the middle lengthwise,
and sew together up to the end of the incisions. This makes a band
with a sort of pocket in the middle. Hem the cut edges. Fold the
napkin over, four inches on each side, that is as deep as the
incisions. Then fold crosswise until you can enclose the whole in the
pocket in the band. This makes a thick center and thin ends by which
to attach the napkin to the suspender.
I hold that mental serenity is one of the essentials of healthful
menstrual periods, and this cannot be had if the mind is continually
troubled and the thought centered on the physical condition. I would
be glad to have your mind freed from the ideas of sex matters as far
as possible. It is a scientific fact that thinking continually of an
organ tends to disturb that organ. I know a man who was so afraid of
heart disease that he felt of his pulse every few minutes and kept a
stethoscope on the head of his bed to listen to his heart in the
night. I would have been surprised had he not had heart trouble.
CHAPTER XIX.
SOLITARY VICE.
As the reproductive system awakens to activity it naturally attracts
the attention of the girl, and an effort should be made to call her
thoughts to other themes.
As I have said before, the reading of sensational love stories is most
detrimental. The descriptions of passionate love scenes arouse in the
reader a thrill through her own sexual organism that tends to increase
its activity and derange its normal state. Girls often mature into
women earlier than they should, because through romances, through
jests of associates in regard to beaus and lovers, and through
indulgence in sentimental fancies their sexual systems are unduly
stimulated and aroused. This stimulation sometimes leads to the
formation of an evil habit, known as self-abuse. The stimulation of
the sex organs is accompanied with a pleasurable sensation, and this
excitement may be created by mechanical means, or even by thought.
Many girls who are victims of this most injurious habit are unaware of
its dangers, although they instinctively feel that they do not want it
known. Others who would not stoop to a mechanical exciting of
themselves do so through thoughts, and do not know that they are just
as truly guilty of self-abuse as the girl who uses the hand or other
mechanical means.
The results of self-abuse are most disastrous. It destroys mental
power and memory, it blotches the complexion, dulls the eye, takes
away the strength, and may even cause insanity. It is a habit most
difficult to overcome, and may not only last for years, but in its
tendency be transmitted to one's children.
If you have from the first thought nobly of yourself, you will have
fallen into no such debasing habit. But if, through ignorance, you
have acquired it, how shall you overcome it?
I should hesitate to write more on this subject did I not know that
many girls fall victims to this evil through ignorance, and many who
thus fall could and would have been saved had they been rightly
instructed. I therefore desire that you shall be wise.
Every normal function of the body is attended with a pleasurable
sensation. We enjoy eating, seeing, walking. Odors bring sensations
which are agreeable, the sense of touch may give pleasure, and as we
enjoy these sensations in fact, so we may enjoy them in memory or in
imagination. We can recall the beauty of the rose, the perfume of the
mignonette, the flavor of the orange, or we can imagine new
combinations of these delights. We feel joy or grief through reading
vivid descriptions, or we can ourselves create imaginary scenes in
which we are actors, who suffer or enjoy.
The reproductive system is the seat of great nervous susceptibility,
and the excitation of these nerves gives a pleasurable sensation. This
excitation may be thought a local mechanical irritation or it may be
mental. In little children it may be caused by lack of cleanliness of
the external organs. An irritation is produced, and an attempt to
allay this by rubbing produces an agreeable feeling, which may be
repeated until the evil habit of self-abuse is formed.
Sometimes constipation, by creating a pelvic congestion, will have the
same result. Sometimes clothing which is too small may, by undue
pressure on the parts, call the thought of the child to these organs,
and in an attempt to remove the pressure by pulling the clothing away
the habit may be begun.
Sometimes the tiny pin-worms in the rectum may wander into the vagina,
and the little girl feel a constant annoyance, which rubbing allays
temporarily, but which results in the evil habit of the use of the
hands to produce an agreeable sensation. Thus through avoidable causes
the evil habit may be acquired. Then it may be taught by one thus
learning it to another who, without this instruction, would never have
acquired it.
But new dangers arise as the girl approaches the age when the
reproductive system begins to take on the activity that indicates
approaching womanhood. The normal congestion of the parts causes a
hitherto unknown consciousness of sex, and unless she is warned she
may at this period acquire the habit without knowing its evils.
All functions necessary to the preservation of the individual life are
attended with pleasure, and so are those which are for the
continuation of the species. While the emotion may be pleasurable, it
is at the same time the most exhausting, that can be experienced. We
see that in some forms of animal existence parenthood is purchased at
the expense of the life of the parent; and while in the human being
the procreative act does not kill, it exhausts, and no doubt takes
from the vital force of those exercising it. One can feel justified to
lose a part of her own life if she is conferring life upon others, but
to indulge in such a waste of vital force merely for pleasure is
certainly never excusable, and least excusable of all is the arousing
of pleasurable emotions by a direct violation of natural law.
The only natural method of arousing a recognition of sexual feeling is
as God has appointed in holy marriage, and the self-respecting girl
feels that no approach of personal familiarity is either right or
proper. But it may be that she does not know that feelings may be
awakened by the imagination which are as wrong morally as, and more
injurious physically than, actual deeds, and so may allow her mind to
revel in fancies that would shock her as actualities.
I received a letter not long ago from a young woman who most
emphatically asserted that she would never, never, never permit
familiarities, and then most innocently says, "but it wouldn't be
wrong to imagine yourself enjoying the embrace of some certain one,
would it?"
It is just this idea that there is no wrong in thought that weakens
virtue's fortress and renders it easily demolished. Girls who would
shrink from use of mechanical means to arouse sexual desire will
permit themselves to revel in imaginary scenes of love-making with
real or unreal individuals, or in mental pictures which arouse the
spasmodic feelings of sexual pleasure, and yet be unaware that they
are guilty of self-abuse.
Sexual feeling in itself is not base, but it can be debased either in
thought or in deed. Rightly considered, it is the indication of the
possession of the most sacred powers, that of the perpetuation of
life.
"Passion is the instinct for preservation of one's kind, the voice of
the life principle, the sign of creative power." These last four words
open before us a wonderful field of thought. "Creative power!" What
does that mean? Is creative power limited to reproduction of kind? Do
you not create when you work out with brain some idea and then embody
it in some visible form? Worth is said to create an artistic dress,
the actor creates his part in the play, the musician creates the
arrangement of harmonies which are represented in musical signs, and
in the same sense you may be in a myriad of ways a creator.
With the beginning of activity of sexual life in yourself came
increased development and new energy, beauty, and power, and the
preservation and right use of that life will continue to be a source
of power. "When the signs of this creative power come throbbing and
pulsing in every fiber, it only shows that one has more and greater
ability to create than ever before. One knows by this that she can now
do greater work than she has done or is doing;" so says one writer.
Is it not a beautiful thought that this feeling, which we have
supposed we must fight as something low, is in reality the stirring of
a divine impulse which we can control and govern and make to serve us
in all high and noble deeds?
If you hold such noble thoughts in your heart concerning yourself, you
will need no threatenings to keep you from self-debasement and
self-defilement. You will not need to be told of the loss of physical
strength or of beauty, of memory or of reason, through evil habits of
solitary vice, for they will have no temptation for you, even as you
do not need threats of police and prisons to keep you from stealing,
because honesty is the active and guiding principle of your life.
But supposing you have already acquired the evil habit and are now
awakened to the wrong you are doing yourself; you observe the lack of
lustre in the eye, the sallow, blotched complexion; you realize your
loss of nerve-power manifested in cold and clammy hands, backache,
lassitude, irritability, lack of memory, and inability to concentrate
thought. What shall you do to overcome and to gain control of
yourself? The question is a serious one, for no habit is more
tyrannical than the dominion of unrestrained sexual desire. Its
victims often fight for years, only to be conquered at last. If there
was no cure but in fighting, I should feel that the case was almost
hopeless.
The very first thing to do is to change the mental attitude in regard
to the whole matter of sex; to hold it in thought as sacred, holy,
consecrated to the highest of all functions, that of procreation.
Recognize that, conserved and controlled, it becomes a source of
energy to the individual. Cleanse the mind of all polluting images by
substituting this purer thought; then go to work to establish correct
habits of living in dress, diet, exercise, etc. See to it that there
are no such causes of pelvic congestions as prolapsed bowels, caused
by tight clothing or constipation; keep the skin active; and, above
all, keep the mind healthfully occupied.
The victim of self-abuse has, through the frequent repetition of the
habit, built up an undue amount of brain that is sensitive to local
irritation of the sex-organs or to mental pictures of sex-pleasure.
She must now allow this part of the brain to become quiescent, and she
should go to work to build up other brain centers. Let her train her
sight by close observation of form, color, size, location. Let her
cultivate her sense of hearing in the study of different qualities of
sound, tone, pitch, intensity, duration, timbre; her sense of touch,
by learning to judge with closed eyes of different materials, of
quality of fiber, of the different degrees of temperature, of
roughness or smoothness, of density; in fact, let her endeavor to
become alert, observant, along all the lines of sense-perception. Let
her study nature, leaf-forms, cloud-shapes, insects, flowers, birds,
bird-songs, the causes of natural phenomena; and, above all, let her
keep out of the realm of the artificial, the sentimental, the
emotional, and, holding firmly to the thought that creative energy is
symbolized by desire and can be dignified and consecrated to noblest
purposes, she will find herself daily growing into a stronger, more
beautiful self-control.
CHAPTER XX.
BE GOOD TO YOURSELF.
I witnessed the other day a parting between two men. The elder, as he
took the younger by the hand, said, "Good-by, my boy; be good to
yourself;" and the younger responded, heartily, "Oh, there is no
danger but I'll be that." I wondered, as I saw the laughing face, so
full of the indications of the love of pleasure, if he really would be
good to himself, or if he would interpret it to mean to indulge
himself in all kinds of sensuous gratification. It is a great thing to
be truly good to one's self, and I would give the injunction with the
highest ideal. Be good to your real self with that true goodness that
sees the end from the beginning, that realizes the tendency of certain
forms of pleasure, and that claims the privilege of being master of
the senses, and not their slave.
"Well," you say, rather deprecatingly, "you can't expect young people
to act as staid and wise as you old folks. We want some fun." So you
do, and that is perfectly right. You should want fun and have fun. All
I ask is that you shall try to understand what real, true fun is.
I have seen young folks pull the chair from under some one "for fun,"
and the result was pain and perhaps permanent injury to the object of
the joke.
I have known young men to imagine they were having "fun" when they
went on a spree, to get "gloriously drunk," as they phrased it. You
can see no fun in this. You realize that it is a most serious tragedy,
with not an element of real fun in it, involving, as it does, the loss
of health, the risking of life, the possibility of crime, the
heart-break of friends, and perhaps even death. It is altogether a
wrong idea of fun.
I have known girls in the secrecy of their rooms to smoke cigarettes
"for fun," and in that I am sure that you see no amusement. It was a
lowering of the standard of womanhood; it was tampering with a poison;
it was something to be ashamed of, rather than something to call fun.
I have known young men and women to enter into flirtations "for fun."
I knew a girl whose chief delight seemed to be in getting young men in
love with her, only to cast them aside when tired of their adoration.
She called this fun, but it was cruelty. In olden times men amused
themselves by throwing Christians to wild beasts and watching them
while being torn to pieces. This was their idea of fun, and the
flirt's idea of amusement seems to be of the same order. She plays
with the man as the cat with the mouse, and experiences no pangs of
conscience when, torn and bleeding in heart, she tosses him aside for
a new victim.
There are other young people who would not enter into such serious
flirtations, and yet are unduly familiar with each other. They mean
nothing by their endearments and familiarities, and neither will
suffer any pangs when the pleasant intimacy is ended. Can we not call
this innocent fun? They have indulged in some unobserved
hand-pressures, or a few stolen kisses; but neither believed the other
to mean anything serious. It was only fun; what harm could there be in
that?
Many girls to-day are reasoning thus, and many of these may pass
through the experience without loss of reputation; they may
subsequently marry honorably, and become respected and beloved
mothers. But ask any of these girls, in her mature years, when her own
daughters are growing up around her, if she wants them to pass through
the same experiences. I once knew a beautiful young woman who thought
it was fun to have these familiar intimacies with young men, because,
as she said, she knew how far to go. I saw her in her maturity, with
daughters of her own, and heard her say that when she recalled her own
girlish escapades, even in the darkness of the night the blushes would
rush over her from head to foot, and in heartfelt agony she would say
to herself, "Oh, I wonder if my girls will ever do so?"
It was fun to her in her girlhood; it was shame to her in her mature
remembrance; it was agony when she saw it possible to her own
children.
True fun is fun in anticipation, fun in realization, fun in
retrospection, and fun in seeing it repeated by succeeding
generations. If it fails to be fun in any of these instances, it fails
to be genuine.
I like to see young people full of vivacity. I like to hear their
merry laughter, to witness their innocent pranks; but I do not like to
see them laughing at the sufferings of others, or amusing themselves
with dangers of any kind. Above all, I regret to see them playing with
the fire of physical passion.
Many a girl who to-day is lost to virtue had no idea that she was
starting on this downward road. She was only having a good time. She
was pretty, attractive, and admired. Young men flattered her with
words, and when they held her hand, or put their arm around her, she
took it as another compliment to her charms. She did not see that it
was only selfishness, only a desire to feel the thrills of physical
pleasure which this contact with her person aroused. She would have
felt humiliated had she recognized this fact, and it seems to me that
girls should understand the feelings that prompt young men to take
personal familiarities.
The young man might deny the fact to the girl, but he understands it
well enough as a fact, and he loses a measure of respect for her
because she is willing to permit his advances. The girl no doubt
imagines that these are sweet little secrets between herself and the
young man, when perhaps he is discussing her openly with his young men
friends. I have even heard such discussions on railway trains, carried
on in no very low tones, between young men, well dressed and with all
the outward appearances of gentlemen, and I have wondered how Jennie
and Sadie and Clara and Nellie, whose names I heard openly mentioned,
would have felt to have heard themselves described as "a nice, soft
little thing to hug," or "she knows how to kiss."
Do you imagine these young men would have thus spoken had they truly
respected the girls? They might say "They are nice girls," but would
they say, in their deeper consciousness, "They are true,
self-respecting, womanly girls, and I honor them?"
"But what is a girl to do?" asks one. "If she is prudish she won't get
any attention. She has to allow a certain innocent freedom, or young
men won't go with her."
Do you really believe that, dear girl? Let me tell you what young men
have said to me. Said one, "O, we have to be familiar with the girls.
They all expect it, and would be offended if we were just friendly and
manifested no familiarities." Do you suppose girls ever thought of the
possibility of the young men saying that? When they are pleading for
permission to be familiar they do sometimes say, "Why, all the girls
allow it," but they also add, "so there can be no harm;" while among
themselves they are laughing at the credulity of the girls, or
accusing them of making it necessary for the young men to take
"innocent" liberties in order to have the good will of the girls.
A young man may assure you most emphatically that he respects you none
the less, although you allow him to hold your hand or kiss you at
parting, but he knows it is not true, and he will admit it to others
rather than to the girl herself. Truthful young men say, "Of course,
we have the most respect for the girls who keep us at a distance."
"But they won't pay us attention," say the girls. "Is that so?" I
asked of a young man. "Are you more earnest in pursuit of the girl who
courts approaches, or the girl who holds you at bay?" "Why!" responded
he, with emphasis, "the girls ought to know that a boy wants most that
which is hardest to get; but we are actually obliged to treat the
girls with familiarity or they won't go with us." And this young man
seemed really surprised when I assured him that girls supposed they
were obliged to accept caresses in order to have the attention of
young men. Then this same young man spoke of something that I know to
be too often true. He said, "It is strange, if the girls don't want
these things, that they act as they do, for they actually invite
familiarity. In fact, many times I would have been glad to be
respectfully friendly, but the girls did not seem satisfied, and by
many little ways and manners they indicated that they were ready to be
caressed. I think they mean to be good girls, but they put an awful
lot of temptation in a fellow's way."
No doubt these girls did not realize what they were doing, but I
believe every young woman should have so clear an understanding of
human nature as to know that she is playing with a dangerous fire when
she allows caresses and unbecoming familiarity. She ought to know
that, while she may hold herself above criminal deeds, if she permits
fondlings and caresses she may be directly responsible for arousing a
passion in the young man that may lead him to go out from her presence
and seek the company of dissolute women, and thus lose his honor and
purity because a girl who called herself virtuous tempted him. Is she
in truth more honorable than the outcast woman? She has allowed
familiarities in the matter of embraces and kisses, and she may not
know what thoughts have been inspired in the mind of the young man by
her unguarded conduct. She may feel indignant at the suggestion,
because she has meant no harm, but in reality she should blush that
her own familiar conduct has given him a tacit right to think of her
with even greater freedom.
Girls have a wonderful responsibility in regard even to the moral
conduct of young men, and the self-respecting girl will guard herself
not only from the contamination of touch, but from an undue freedom of
thought.
Do you say she cannot govern the thoughts of men? I reply, she can to
a great extent. By a dress that exposes her person to public gaze, or
even more seductively hides it under a film of suggestive lace, she
has given a direction to the thoughts of those who look at her. She
has declared that their eyes may touch her, that their thoughts may be
occupied with an inventory of her physical charms. She has openly
announced that she is willing to be appraised by eyes of men as a
beautiful animal. What wonder if their thoughts go further than her
public declaration, and that they may freely surmise the charms that
still remain hidden?
When a girl, by putting herself into graceful attitudes in tempting
nearness to a young man, casts coquettish glances, she has done that
which will give a turn to the thought which may prove provocative of
deeds.
"I am afraid of that girl," said a young man who desired to live
purely. "May be she does not mean it, but her poses and glances make
it almost impossible for me to keep my hands off of her. I am obliged
to leave her for fear that I shall kiss her when she looks so
mischievously alluring."
The girl, perhaps, would have been flattered by the kiss and indignant
at further liberties, yet would have felt no compunctions had her
victim been inflamed by a passion that he lacked the power to control,
prompting him to seek some other girl to be his prey.
You think men should have self-control. So they should. We will not
lessen the blame of the young man, but the girl who puts the
temptation in his way, even if she did not herself yield to it, is not
guiltless.
The conduct of a pure woman should be the safeguard and not the
destruction of a man, and she can be his protector, even as he is
hers. I heard an eminent woman say that woman was man's moral
protector, and man woman's physical protector, and I said that is only
half true. Man is also woman's moral protector, and woman is also
man's physical protector. She is acknowledged to be his physical
tempter. If she knows her power she can, by her wise, modest, womanly
demeanor, make it impossible for him to feel an impure impulse in her
presence. Ruskin says:
"You cannot think that the buckling on of the knight's armor by his
lady's hand was a mere caprice of romantic fashion. It is the type of
an eternal truth--that the soul's armor is never well set to the heart
unless a woman's hand has braced it; and it is only when she braces it
loosely that the honor of manhood fails. Know you not those lovely
lines--I would they were learned by all youthful ladies of England--
"'Ah wasteful woman! she who may
On her sweet self set her own price,
Knowing he cannot choose but pay--
How has she cheapen'd Paradise!
How given for nought her priceless gift,
How spoiled the bread and spill'd the wine,
Which, spent with due, respective thrift,
Had made brutes men, and men divine!'"
CHAPTER XXI.
FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN BOYS AND GIRLS.
You might like to know, dear reader, if I do not believe in some
intermediate relation between that of the comrade and the lover--a
more intimate relation than the one and less intimate than the other.
You ask, Cannot a young man and a young woman be real, true friends?
Let us talk a little about friendship and what it implies. I should
define a friend as one who believes in me, who expects much of me, who
encourages me to do the best that is in me, who will tell me of my
faults, who recognizes my virtues, who trusts in my honor.
You are willing to accept that definition, and you think it possible
to be all that to each other without being lovers. I believe it, too,
but I would like to make some further statements before we have the
discussion of this question.
I believe that a girl's first and best friends are her parents; her
wisest _confidante_, her mother. To these she may speak unreservedly
of herself. With these she may freely talk over family matters. In a
friendship with some outside the family it would be unwise to discuss
family matters. It might be an unkindness to other members of the
family, and in case of a break in the friendship the family secrets
might be betrayed, and to the detriment of the trusting friend. I once
read of such an affair, where one girl had confided to another certain
matters that reflected on the honor of her family, and when the
friendship was broken the secret was betrayed, to the public shame of
the girl who had been unwise in her confidences.
True honor would forbid the betrayal of a confidence even after the
rupture of a friendship; but all persons have not the highest ideal of
honor. If the girl is not discreet in her revelation of herself, and
her mother is her only _confidante_, it will not be so serious a
matter, for the mother will never be tempted to reveal to others
anything that would bring scorn or criticism upon her child. Nowhere,
in her girlish ignorance, can the girl find as sincere sympathy as in
the loving mother.
"But all mothers are not sympathetic," you say. "They are often
nagging, and use the confidences of the daughter to make her
uncomfortable." Well, if this be so, you, at least, can learn the
lesson, and by your habits of thought fit yourself to be the wise,
loving, companionable, sympathetic _confidante_ of your daughter, for
you will be anxious that she should have no friend so close as
yourself.
However, I believe that mothers should recognize the individuality of
their daughters, and win, rather than command, confidence. It is
difficult for us, as mothers, to realize that our daughter is just as
much a separate individual as is our neighbor's daughter, and that we
have no right to thrust ourselves upon her, no right to demand that
she shall love us. We have the right to sympathize, to counsel, to
direct her conduct so long as she remains in our personal care, but we
should remember that she must be responsible, that she is a soul and
must live her own life, learn her own lessons, suffer her own
experiences. Our deepest love can only enable us to help her to choose
wisely, to think truly, to act judiciously. So I would have the
friendship of mother and daughter something very deep and
true--something more than a petting and caressing, an indulging or
humoring.
I would be inclined to have less outward demonstration and more inner
tenderness. I believe that very often outward impression comes largely
to take the place of true affection. I see girls who kiss and fondle
their mothers, who never open to them their heart's deepest secrets.
Fewer kisses and more confidence would satisfy more thoroughly the
mother's heart. I believe that, even in the family, a kiss should not
become a conventionality. It should have a meaning. I would rather
that my daughter should kiss me once a week, with a spontaneous desire
thus to express her love, than that, from custom, she should kiss me
morning, noon, and night.
There are sanitary reasons against kissing, such as transmission of
germs of disease; but aside from this, there are affectional reasons
why kisses should be few, and these few spontaneous rather than
required.
We ought never to force our kisses upon children; but, recognizing
their individuality, leave them free to proffer or to refuse.
Next to the friendship of parents should come that of brother and
sister. We almost think it a wonder when members of the same family
seem really to love each other, and yet family ties should be the
strongest in the world. Why should there not be the sweetest intimacy
between two sisters, whose lives and interests are so closely united?
Why should not the bond between mother and sister be indissoluble?
A young man and woman, children of the same parents, brought up in the
same home, ought to be the best of friends. Their friendship is
without the danger of misunderstanding. It can be free from the slight
feeling of envy or jealousy that might arise between sisters. It would
seem that it could be the truest comradeship possible to two young
people.
A sister should be to a brother not merely some one at hand to mend
his gloves or make his neckties, not simply some one to fondle and
indulge, but she should be one whom he would never scold or browbeat.
A brother should not be simply some one to run errands, to call on for
help in emergencies, not some one to tease when the spirit of mischief
prompts, or to scold when things have gone wrong.
I would have the love of these two manifest itself in all true
helpfulness, but in a way that would draw out the noblest
self-reliance in each. It should manifest itself in courteous words,
in helpful deeds, in glances of the eye, in tones of the voice, in
heartfelt sympathies that stimulate to nobler deeds, in every way that
strengthens and uplifts; and if caresses are few, they will not be
missed in the wealth of that truer manifestation which makes the
recipient feel his nobility and worth.
A young lady once asked me if I believed in young people who were not
related treating each other as brother and sister, and I replied that
would depend on how the brother and sister treated each other. I have
seen girls treat brothers in ways that other young men would not
enjoy--finding fault, nagging, and snubbing generally. I have seen
young men browbeat their sisters, tease them, and
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