P.—Generally very well.
D.—How do you feel after you get back to the city?
P.—Very well for a time.
M.—I guess you would think so, doctor. She acts like a perfect romp; there is no keeping her any where.
D.—It is natural for healthy girls to romp, as you call it. What would a boy be worth, if he were not allowed plenty of exercise? Girls must have their plays and sports, otherwise they will suffer in health. Thus you perceive when your daughter goes to the country, takes plenty of exercise, eats plain food, avoids excess in study, and lives mostly in the open air, she very soon becomes well. Some, perhaps, might tell you that all this is merely the result of a change; but, I ask, if it is merely a change that makes her so much better in the country, why does she not grow still better even when she changes back to the city? The truth is, it is not so much a change, as it is the healthful influence of air, exercise, diet, and freedom from excessive study, which work so great a benefit to her health. You perceive, also, it is not medicine your daughter needs. What has your family physician said about this?
M.—Well, be sure, Dr. K—— used to give a great deal of medicine, but lately he has changed; he says, in such cases it is not of much use. All he ordered was some iron pills, as he called them; and he did not seem to make much reckoning of these, either.
D.—I suppose not. He is an intelligent man—a man of great experience; and he knows well that all well-informed physicians have given up the idea of emmenogogues, or medicines, which have a specific effect to bring on the monthly periods. The pills of iron are supposed to be tonic; that is, they invigorate the system somewhat for the time being; but these, even, soon wear out. You have to take more and more of them, until at last they lose their effect altogether; and worse than that, they in the end become debilitating. That is the way with all medicines, not excepting even tonics. Physicians are in the habit of thinking that they must order something from the apothecary’s, even if it is nothing more than bread pills, colored a little, to make them look like medicine. They think they must do something, or else it would not be fair to charge for their visit. Medical men, you know, must live by their profession; and people have not been in the habit of thinking they must pay, unless the doctor does something. For my part, I think that physician deserves the most pay who does the least; that is, who will teach people to cure themselves, and to keep well without medicine.
Thus, you perceive, I advise your daughter to take no medicine. If there were any medicine in the wide world which I thought would do her the least permanent good, I would advise it; but I do not believe there is any such in her case. Correct her habits of life throughout, and then, in due time, nature will of herself make all right. I advise, then, a course something like the following: take your daughter at once from school, no matter if she loses a year from her books. She can practice music somewhat, the best of all her studies, except, perhaps, reading and writing her mother tongue; but I would not have her practice music too much; a half hour or an hour at a time, perseveringly employed, and this two or three times a day, would be sufficient. And if you choose to take up with my plain advice, let her try her hand at the bread-trough and wash-tub. She is getting to be quite along in her teens. Now let her imagine that she were to become the wife of some honest, intelligent countryman—a physician, merchant, or perhaps, best of all, a farmer—no matter what, so that he be a good, honest, industrious, and worthy young man. Suppose, now, that she really loved him, as I am sure she would, although he is not rich, but in moderate circumstances; now, I say, let her imagine that she is going to be a housewife, as well as wife; let her suppose that she is to make his bread, cook his food, clean his house, and do his washing, at least so far as her health would permit, never further; at least we will suppose that she is to understand all of these matters, and that she will habitually oversee them, and take some part therein—we cannot suppose that a house-servant, however good and faithful, will feel so deep an interest in so important a matter as making the family bread, as the wife would. As the wife loves the husband better than all the world besides, so she is the one who is naturally expected to take a deeper interest in all that pertains to his happiness and comfort, and general good. Now, I say, let your daughter practice all these things; for every good and intelligent young lady looks forward—and that with solicitude—to the day when she shall become a wife.
Let her imagine, then, if you please, that she is to be married, and that the husband of her choice is actually poor; and you know every wise and good parent will not ask their daughters, in forming connections of this kind, “Is he rich?” No; but rather, “Is he honest?”—“Is he respectable?”—“Do you love him?” That is all. Leave other matters all to herself. And then, another thing, riches, as we are told, often take wings, and fly away; so that it is better for every one to be independent, and know how to do for themselves. Let my daughter know how to make a living by teaching music, or painting, or drawing, or any thing that is useful and proper; but, first of all, let her know how to make her own clothes, her own bread, and do her own work. Teach these things first to your daughter, and then as much more of science and the fine arts as you can—the more the better, only do not let it interfere with health.
And now, if, in connection with what I have said, I were to advise your daughter a course of water-treatment, physiological treatment, or hygienic treatment, or whatever you please to call it; or what I consider actually best for her case, it would be something like the following: Let her take a packing-sheet, for twenty minutes, early on rising; then a good bath; then a walk, but not too much at first. Let her repeat the same process in the afternoon. Let her walk a great deal in the open air, that she may have the influence of air, the exercise, the light, and the mental impressions caused by a change of objects combined. Thus may she gradually regain her health. And let her, in connection with this, observe all good rules of which I have spoken.