HOW essential is it to the well-being of a family that the wife and mother should be cheerful, active, and healthy. Yet, looking at those classes of the community a little above what may be termed the laboring class, how frequently we find that the women are ailing, nervous, and irritable; or, as they would call themselves, "delicate!" How is this?
"Why," answers one, "some are the children of unhealthy parents, and the inheritors of their diseases." Where this is the case, the fullest sympathy and consideration are due; but the number of such would be only a few in comparison with the class we speak of. We must look further for the cause.
"Oh," suggests another, "is not the fact of being a wife and mother, and having the care and management of a family and household, with perhaps very limited pecuniary resources, quite enough to make women weak and ailing?" We think not. Such circumstances are trying; but with some women they have been the means of drawing out unwonted cheerfulness and energy of character. Allowing, however, that some women are so tried and harassed by the circumstances of married life that their health and energy give way; still their number would be comparatively few, and we must find some other cause for the fact that there are so many females who call themselves "delicate."
Is it that they have an impression that there is something amiable in being delicate?
Do they think it is lady-like to be delicate?
Is not this delicacy cultivated by some as a means of drawing more largely on sympathy, especially the husband's sympathy?
Are not idleness and inactivity often excused or hidden under this convenient cloak of delicacy?
We think that each of these questions may be correctly answered in the affirmative, and that the commencement of these errors, with all their attendant evils, may be traced to the education of the girl.
Years ago, Fanny was a healthy, active, and unaffected child, when her parents sent her to a boarding-school. For the first few days, feeling herself among strangers, and away from home, she was pensive and quiet; but this soon wore away, and she became cheerful and happy again. She had taken a skipping-rope with her to school, and one evening, when she was in the full enjoyment of the use of it, the evening bell rang for the scholars to retire for the night. When Fanny went to say "good-night" to the governess, she was surprised to hear her say to the matron: "You will be so good as to give Miss Fanny a dose of calomel, she is in too robust health; see, her cheeks are like a milkmaid's." So Fanny had to take calomel, and the next day she was languid and listless, or, as the governess seemed to consider, "lady-like." Another time, when playing with a companion somewhat actively in the playground, they were stopped by a teacher, saying: "Young ladies, are you not ashamed of yourselves? that is not the way to conduct yourselves in this establishment. Why, what would be thought of you? Pray let me see you walk like young ladies."