137. Hear what our noblest poet, Shakspeare, says of sleep:
“Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”
138. A luxurious, idle wife cannot sleep; she, night after night, tumbles and tosses on her bed of down. What has she done during the day to tire herself, and thus to induce sleep? Alas, nothing! She in consequence never experiences
“Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep.”
For, after all, out-door exercise and useful occupation are the best composing medicines in the world! Encompassed as she is with every luxury—partaking of all the delicacies of the season, of the richest viands, and of the choicest wines—decked out in costly apparel—reclining on the softest cushions—surrounded with exquisite scenery, with troops of friends, and with bevies of servants;—yet, notwithstanding all these apparent advantages, she is oftentimes one of the most debilitated, complaining, “nervous,” hysterical and miserable of mortals. The causes of all these afflictions are—she has nothing to do; she is overwhelmed with prosperity; she is like a fire that is being extinguished in consequence of being overloaded with fuel; she is being killed with overmuch kindness; she is a drone in a hive where all must work if they are to be strong and well, and bright and cheerful; for labor is the lot of all and the law for all, for “God is no respecter of persons.” The remedies for a lady affected as above described are simple and yet efficacious—namely, simplicity of living, and an abundance of out-door exercise and of useful occupation. It would have been to the manifest advantage of many a fair dame if she were obliged to put down her close carriage, and were compelled to walk instead of drive. Riding in close carriages nurse many ailments which walking would banish; a brisk walk is the best tonic and the most reviving medicine in the world, and would prevent the necessity of her swallowing so much nauseous physic. Nature’s simple remedies are oftentimes far superior and far more agreeable than any to be found in the Pharmacopœia. It would have been a blessing to many a rich, indolent, and luxurious lady if she had been born in a lower rank—in one in which she had been compelled to work for her daily bread; if she had been, she would, in many instances, have been far happier and healthier than she now is. Indolence and luxury kill more than hard work and hard fare ever did or ever will kill. Indolence and luxury are slow poisons; they destroy by degrees, but are in the end as certain in their deleterious effects as either arsenic or deadly nightshade—
“Come hither, ye that press your beds of down,
And sleep not; see him sweating o’er his bread