Yes, the army of girl and women workers in this great metropolis is, indeed, a vast one, and work for them is no sinecure. If they cannot work so thoroughly or efficiently as men, at least it is for them greater toil than for the sterner sex. Of a more delicate organisation, of less robust frame, of smaller powers of endurance, the "buffets of fortune" meet with less resistance, and are more readily yielded to. Added to this, men have the advantage of being early trained to the habit of work which many of our girls have not, and they have greater facilities afforded them for outdoor exercise, of which they very readily avail themselves. These are all advantages which women do not possess, or if they do, it is after a careful course of acquired systematic training with a view to meet those demands upon their health and strength which are entailed by the continued and steady application to one branch of labour or to one particular profession. There is no doubt that a girl cannot take up an engagement which demands her daily presence at a stated place and at a given time, to perform duties which perhaps require the concentration of mental powers, and very frequently the maintenance of the body in one position for many hours together. There is no doubt, we repeat, that unless such avocations are begun and continued with decidedly common-sense views as to diet, hygiene, and general deportment, but little time will elapse ere our girl will succumb for a greater or less period to the unusual fatigue and the unwonted restrictions to which she has to submit.
It is fatal in such cases to regard health from a careless or indifferent standpoint. It is a question which must be considered by every one of the legion of working girls and women who labour for their own, and often for others' bread. Looking at it from the most practical standpoint, it will be found to be the greatest economy in the end. If the health is kept at a fair standard of excellence, the mental powers are maintained in a state of useful energy. As soon as health is below par, even when not sufficiently so as to force us to desist from work, the brain loses its elasticity; we are dull, become mere machines instead of intelligent workers, and our duty gets irksome and fails to interest us. And here let us interpose one word. If we wish to spare ourselves that most wearying of all sensations, that fatal sense of boredom and disgust for our daily task which sometimes creeps in upon us, we must try with all our hearts to take an interest in what our hands find to do. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do that do with thy might." It is not only right to think and act up to this; it is the greatest wisdom also; for our own comfort and happiness. Work done with a will only takes half the time in doing. The hours fly, and the sense of weariness has no time to creep in. This is a spirit, it will be found, which can be easily cultivated, and will, after a little effort, come quite naturally, much to our benefit in every way.
It has seemed to us, in spite of the great advance that has been made in the teaching of hygiene, and the possession by many of a fair knowledge of the laws which govern it, that there is still a lamentable want of practicability in its application; that is to say, the theories we learn, and to which we subscribe, are rarely, and then very imperfectly, carried out in actual individual life. We grant that great improvements are visible on all sides, in what we might term general hygiene; but where we perceive a great deficiency still, is in that personal application of the laws of health which must and can only be properly applied by individuals to themselves, so as to make them fit into the circumstances under which they exist.
It will not help our girls much, for instance, to have learnt the number of cubic feet of oxygen that is necessary for turning the purple blood into scarlet—the amount of nitrogenous, phosphatic, carbonaceous, and other elements which are requisite for building up new tissue, etc., etc., and many other dry facts of a kindred nature, if she does not put this knowledge to practical use. There is a wide division between facts thus learnt off glibly at school and the practical application of them to our daily wants.
The human body, if it is to be maintained in but a fair state of health, requires a certain amount of fresh air—a certain amount of flesh-forming, bone-forming, brain-forming, and warmth-giving nutriment. Our girls require to have a tolerable, if not exactly a faultless, circulation, in order that these various foodstuffs may be digested, i.e., converted into these flesh, bone, and brain-forming tissues. In order to have a tolerable circulation, the body must have a regular amount of exercise and of fresh air. There, in a nutshell, is the secret of the whole matter. Given a fairly normal state of health to begin with, that health may be maintained by a little wise direction of our actions towards supplying the really very moderate demands of Nature, upon which, however, modest as they are, she insists, to enable her to carry on the process of healthy life. Deprive her of that little, and the results are such as we too frequently see—broken-down health from overwork (so-called) of many of our busy sisters. It is our intention here to endeavour to put this plainly before our girls.
We will imagine, then, that some of our girls have to pass many—say eight or ten—hours of their days in work; that that work is sedentary work; that our girls are very apt to stoop, for their poor backs get weary sometimes. We will imagine that it is winter, and sitting as they do all day, they like to have all the windows closed. Our girls will not feel very hungry when meal-time comes, especially if they have to provide their own meals. In fact, many of our girls practise a little economy in this direction, if the choice of doing so rests with them. Economy, we all know, is imperative in many conditions of life—not only amongst working girls; and it is a serious matter to practise it wisely—to determine and mark clearly the line that divides the luxuries from the necessities. In the former practise as much economy as you will; in the latter it is only a false way of meeting matters which will have to be balanced by-and-by with heavy interest.
Well, our girls not being very hungry (for their lungs are full of impure air, and they feel tired and weary—rather sleepy too—all from the same cause), they think they will make themselves "a nice cup of tea—strong, you know." They do not care whether they have milk with it or not, so long as the tea is strong and gives them a fillip. With this they will eat a little roll and butter or bread and cheese. This so-called meal is either partaken of in the room in which they work, or our girls go out for it. In the latter case they stand a little better chance; for often the fact of going out of the room in which they have been seated all the morning brings with it a sense of returning appetite, and induces them to procure a more substantial meal. But even this is rarely the case; for they have an odd sinking at the chest, and if they eat a heavy meal and sit down directly after it, they get that weight behind their waistbands, they cannot breathe, and they feel altogether miserable. They do not feel like this, they think, after the good, strong tea—the clearest proof to them that they should look to it as a main resource during the midday rest. Probably tea is again hailed with delight during another break in the work-hours; and at the end of the day our weary one is so fearfully tired, although she has been sitting all day, that she feels as though her limbs would never carry her home. Come what may, she must ride. She puts herself into the first Underground Railway carriage that will take her to her destination, and, exchanging the carbonic acid gas of the workroom for the sulphurous gas of the underground tunnels, she arrives home spent and utterly tired out, longing to get to bed and rest her weary limbs and pillow the poor, fatigued head. In the morning, feeling refreshed after Nature's kind and grateful rest, she plucks up again and walks to the scene of her duties. But she has to be there by a certain time, and, somehow, she always manages to be just a little late in starting, so that at the last she has to hurry to arrive at the appointed hour. She looks at every clock she passes; she starts at some which tell her that it is later than she thought, feels relieved at others which are more merciful; and, putting on an extra spurt at the last, manages to arrive just to the minute.
But what good can our girl get from a walk taken under such circumstances? It is ten times as fatiguing—the mind is harassed, the heart is beating wildly, and the breathing is short and hurried.
The routine of the previous day is then repeated. There is the same shyness of air, the same imperfect meal, the same lassitude, the same finale.
Pursue this course, or one similar to it, for a few months and we defy any girl to keep well. She may not yet break down altogether, but she will have lapsed from positive into negative health, and the merest straw may turn her negative health into actual bodily incapacity—which means the loss of work and wages to which we have referred.