173. Truly may it be said that “occupation earns a night’s repose.” It is the finest composing medicine in the world, and, unlike an opiate, it never gives a headache; it never produces costiveness; and never, by repetition, loses its effect. Sloth and restlessness, even on down, are generally bed-fellows:
“Weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when rusty sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.”
174. The mind, it is well known, exerts great influence over the body in promoting health, and in causing and in curing disease. A delicate woman is always nervous; she is apt to make mountains of molehills; she is usually too prone to fancy herself worse than she really is. I should recommend my gentle reader not to fall into this error, and not to magnify every slight ache or pain. Let her, instead of whining and repining, use the means which are within the reach of all to strengthen her frame; let her give battle to the enemy; let her fight him with the simple weapons indicated in these pages, and the chances are she will come off victorious.
175. There is nothing like occupation, active occupation, to cure slight pains—“constant occupation physics pain”—to drive away little ailments, and the dread of sickness. “The dread of sickness,” says Dr. Grosvenor, “is a distemper of itself, and the next disposition to a many more. What a bondage does this keep some people in! ’Tis an easy transition from the fear and fancy of being sick to sickness indeed. In many cases there is but little difference between those two. There is one so afraid of being ill that he would not stir out of doors, and for want of air and exercise he contracts a distemper that kills him.”
176. What a blessed thing is work! What a precious privilege for a girl to have a mother who is both able and anxious to instruct her daughter, from her girlhood upwards, in all household management and duties! Unfortunately, in this our age girls are not either educated or prepared to be made wives—useful, domesticated wives. Accomplishments they have without number, but of knowledge of the management of an establishment they are as ignorant as the babe unborn. Verily, they and their unfortunate husbands and offspring will in due time pay the penalty of their ignorance and folly! It is, forsooth, unladylike for a girl to eat much; it is unladylike for her to work at all; it is unladylike for her to take a long walk; it is unladylike for her to go into the kitchen; it is unladylike for her to make her own bed; it is unladylike for her to be useful; it is unladylike for her to have a bloom upon her cheek like unto a milkmaid![[40]] All these are said to be horridly low and vulgar, and to be only fit for the common people! Away with such folly! The system of the bringing up of the young ladies of the present day is “rotten to the core.”
177. If a young married lady, without having any actual disease about her, be delicate and nervous, there is no remedy equal in value to change of air—more especially to the sea-coast. The sea breezes, and, if she be not pregnant, sea-bathing, frequently act like magic upon her in restoring her to perfect health. I say, if she be not pregnant; if she be, it would, without first obtaining the express permission of a medical man, be highly improper for her to bathe.
178. A walk on the mountains is delightful to the feelings and beneficial to the health. In selecting a sea-side resort, it is always, where it be practicable, to have mountain-air as well as the sea breeze. The mounting of high hills, if a lady be pregnant, would not be desirable, as the exertion would be too great, and, if she be predisposed, might bring on a miscarriage; but the climbing of hills and mountains, if she be not enceinte, is most advantageous to health, strengthening the frame, and exhilarating to the spirits. Indeed, we may compare the exhilaration it produces to the drinking of champagne, with this difference,—it is much more beneficial to health than champagne, and does not leave, the next morning, as champagne sometimes does, either a disagreeable taste in the mouth or headache behind,—
“Oh, there is a sweetness in the mountain-air,