The Young Woman's Guide

by William A. Alcott

5. Local Exercise.—I have intimated that the bones and muscles, the brain and nerves, the stomach and intestines, the liver, the chyle apparatus, the lungs, and the skin; are all more or less exercised and benefited by walking, running, gardening, house-keeping, or riding on horseback. Still, other exercises will be necessary, in addition to all these. But much that I wish to say on these points will be found in subsequent chapters. It is only necessary for me to observe, in this place, that all the organs of the body, internal or external, together with all the senses, require, nay, demand, their appropriate or, as I might say, their particular exercise; and this, not only daily, but some of them much oftener.

The brain and nervous system require observation and reflection; and even, in my view, considerable hard study. This is their appropriate and necessary exercise. There are, indeed, those who exercise their brains too much; but for one who suffers from thinking too much, a dozen suffer from thinking too little.

The stomach and intestines require such food as will call them into proper action. That which is highly difficult of digestion may cause them to over-act; and this, to those whose vital powers are feeble, would be injurious. On the other hand, that which is too easy of digestion, will not afford the stomach exercise enough; and hence, in time, if its use is long continued, will be equally injurious. But once more. Concentrated substances—substances, I mean, consisting of pure nutriment, or that which is nearly so—such as oil, sugar, gum, &c.—do not afford the right kind of exercise to the stomach; for it is the appropriate work of this organ, and of the other internal organs—and not of machinery of human invention—to separate the nutritious part from that which is innutritious; and, therefore, that food affords the best sort of labor to the stomach which contains, along with a full supply of nutriment, a good deal of innutritious substance.

The exercise of the lungs consists not only in their full and free expansion in breathing, but in speaking, singing, &c., and even in laughing. Physiologists also consider sneezing, coughing and crying, especially the latter, as having their advantages, in early infancy, and perhaps, in same circumstances, even afterward.

In like manner do the eye and the ear, the tongue and the teeth, the hands and the face—and indeed every part of the system—require their appropriate exercise. This is not true of the merest infancy and childhood alone, but also, for the most part, of youth and manhood. Conversation, to a certain extent, is, for aught I know, as necessary to the health of the vocal organs, as to that of the lungs. Nor are the benefits of mastication confined wholly to the process of digestion. It is fully believed by distinguished physiologists, that the teeth themselves will last longer for being considerably used; and they seem to be borne out in this conclusion by facts. But if this is the case, what are we to think of the importance of light to the eye, sound to the ear, employment to the hands, &c.?

It is extremely difficult to induce the young to pay any attention to this important subject, as a matter of duty, even in some of its most obvious points and parts. Some of them will, it is true, use exercise enough of a particular kind, and at particular times; but the idea of attending to it as a matter of duty, is exceedingly hard for them to receive or entertain.

Few things are more pitiable, than the sight of young persons of either sex, so entirely enslaved to fashion, that they dare not labor in the garden, or the kitchen, or even walk briskly, lest somebody should observe and speak of it. It is not to be wondered at—trained as the young of both sexes are, to demand incessant excitement—that they should dislike walking, and every thing else of the more active kind, and sigh for the chaise, the coach, the sleigh, the car and the steamboat; but it does seem to me strange, that contrary to nature, they should seek their happiness in passive exercises alone, forgetful of their limbs, and hands, and feet. It is passing strange, that any tyrant should be able—even Fashion herself—so to change the whole current of human feeling, as to make a sprightly buoyant young girl of ten years of age, become at thirteen a grave, staid or mincing young woman, unable—rather, unwilling—to move except in a certain style, and then only with an effort scarcely exceeded by the efforts of those who are suffering from inquisitorial tortures.

No young woman who has a conscientious desire for improvement, and who is acquainted with the merest elements of physiological knowledge, could or would submit, for one day, to such abominable tyranny. She could not but be afraid thus to disobey the natural and reasonable laws of her Maker.

The consequences of this premature inactivity of the human frame, on the future well being of that frame, have never been half told: nor do I know that they can be—at least for some time to come.

I scarcely ever prescribed for one of these staid young women, without very great pain. To see a machine evidently made by its Almighty Architect for a great deal of motion, and made to run on with exactness for a hundred years or more, (were due care taken to preserve it in good order,) completely deranged, because Fashion says that motion is ungraceful or unbecoming—what, in a physical point of view, can be more lamentable!