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Commendations
from Eminent
Men & Women
_What
A Young Woman
Ought to Know_
COMMENDED BY REV. F.B. MEYER
The Eminent English Preacher and Author
[Illustration: REV. F.B. MEYER, B.A.]
Minister of Christ Church, Westminster, London,
Author of "Israel, A Prince with
God," "Elijah; Tried by Fire," "The
Bells of Is," etc., etc.
"The questions which are dealt with in the 'Self and Sex Series'
of books are always being asked, and if the answer is not
forthcoming from pure and wise lips it will be obtained through
vicious and empirical channels. I therefore greatly commend this
series of books, which are written lucidly and purely, and will
afford the necessary information without pandering to unholy and
sensual passion. I should like to see a wide and judicious
distribution of this literature among Christian circles."
COMMENDED BY CHARLES M. SHELDON
The Eminent American Preacher and Author
[Illustration: CHARLES M. SHELDON, D.D.]
Pastor of Central Congregational Church,
Topeka, Kansas; author of "In His Steps,"
"The Crucifixion of Philip Strong,"
"Lend a Hand," "Born
to Serve."
"It is a pleasure to call attention to the books of the 'Self and
Sex Series' which have been prepared with great wisdom for the
express purpose of teaching the truth concerning the subjects
which are painfully neglected."
COMMENDED BY MRS. M.W. SEWALL
The Eminent American Educator
[Illustration: MRS. MAY WRIGHT SEWALL]
Principal of the Girls' Classical School;
former President of the International Council
of Women; and Nominee of the International
Congress of Women.
"I am profoundly grateful that a subject of such information to
young women should be treated in a manner at once so noble and so
delicate that any pure-minded teacher or mother may read or
discuss its pages with young girls without the slightest chance
of wounding the most delicate sensibilities, or by being
misunderstood."
COMMENDED BY MRS. M.L. DICKINSON
The Eminent American Christian Worker
[Illustration: MRS. MARY LOWE DICKINSON]
Former President of the National Council of
Women; General Secretary of the Order of
The King's Daughters; Emeritus Professor
of Literature Denver University;
Editor of "The Silver Cross;" Author
of "The Temptation of
Katharine Gray," "One
Little Life,"
etc., etc.
"Any young woman, knowing all that this volume teaches, has an
essential foundation for whatever other knowledge she may
acquire."
COMMENDED BY MRS. M.B. CARSE
The Eminent American Christian Worker
[Illustration: MRS. MATILDA B. CARSE]
Founder of the Woman's Temple, Chicago.
"As a mother, I can truly say that my heart goes out to you in
endorsement of this book. It is pure and instructive on the
delicate subjects that mean so much to our daughters, to their
future as home-keepers, wives and mothers, and to the future
generations. It can but create a more reverent ideal of life in
every girl who reads it, and I wish every daughter in the land
could reap of its benefit."
COMMENDED BY MRS. E.C. STANTON
The Eminent American Lecturer and Author
[Illustration: MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON]
Noted Woman Suffragist, Lecturer
and Author.
"Your books I consider a valuable addition to the literature of
the day on social ethics. The many facts you state are not only
important for a knowledge of social science, but involve good
health and morals."
COMMENDED BY MR. C.N. CRITTENTON
The Eminent American Philanthropist
[Illustration: CHARLES N. CRITTENTON]
Founder of the National Florence Crittenton
Mission
"The frequent excuse which parents give for not enlightening
their children on these most important points is that they have
never known how to do so. This excuse can no longer be considered
valid.
"Dr. Wood-Allen has a remarkable gift in the facility and
refinement with which she is able to approach the most delicate
subject without arousing a single morbid and sensitive impulse."
COMMENDED BY MRS. H. CAMPBELL
The Eminent American Author and Educator
[Illustration: MRS. HELEN CAMPBELL]
Dean of the Department of Household Economics
in the Kansas State Agricultural
College. Author of "Prisoners of
Poverty," "Wage Earners,"
etc., etc.
"I cannot speak too warmly of your invaluable series. There is
hardly a woman in America so thoroughly qualified by education,
long experience, deep sympathies, and, most excellent of all
gifts, as deep common sense, as Dr. Mary Wood-Allen, to meet the
growing need, or rather the growing sense of need. Mothers and
fathers alike will be helped and enlightened by these simple,
clear-phrased, wholesome books, and they deserve all the success
already their own."
COMMENDED BY L.M.N. STEVENS
The Eminent Temperance Worker
[Illustration: MRS. LILLIAN M.N. STEVENS]
President of National Woman's Christian
Temperance Union.
"I consider the book 'What a Young Wife Ought to Know' a wise and
safe teacher. It is a careful and delicate presentation of vital
truths which have to do with the happiness and welfare of home
life."
COMMENDED BY EMINENT AMERICAN
AUTHORS AND EDITORS
MARGARET WARNER MORLEY
Author of "The Song of Life," "Life and Love,"
"The Bee People," etc.
"There is an awful need for the book, and it does what it has
undertaken to do better than anything of the kind I have ever
read. You may rely upon me to make it known wherever I can."
ELISABETH ROBINSON SCOVIL
Superintendent of the Newport Hospital, and
Associate Editor of the Ladies' Home Journal;
Author of "The Care of Children," etc.
"'What a Young Woman Ought to Know' is characterized by purity of
tone and delicacy of treatment.
"It is one which a mother can place with confidence in the hands
of her daughter. Reverent knowledge is the surest safeguard of
innocence, and it is every mother's duty to see that the young
girl committed to her charge is duly forearmed by being forewarned
of the dangers that lie around her."
Pure Books on Avoided Subjects
_Books for Men_
_By Sylvanus Stall, D.D._
"What a Young Boy Ought to Know."
"What a Young Man Ought to Know."
"What a Young Husband Ought to Know."
"What a Man of 45 Ought to Know."
_Books for Women_
_By Mrs. Mary Wood-Allen, M.D.
And Mrs. Emma F.A. Drake, M.D._
"What a Young Girl Ought to Know."
"What a Young Woman Ought to Know."
"What a Young Wife Ought to Know."
"What a Woman of 45 Ought to Know."
PUBLISHED BY
IN THE UNITED STATES
THE VIR PUBLISHING COMPANY
200-214 N. Fifteenth Street Philadelphia
IN ENGLAND
THE VIR PUBLISHING COMPANY
4 Imperial Bldgs., Ludgate Circus, London, E.C.
IN CANADA
RYERSON PRESS
Cor. Queen and John Streets, Toronto, Ontario
[Illustration: MRS. MARY WOOD-ALLEN, M.D.]
NEW REVISED EDITION
_Self and Sex Series_
WHAT A YOUNG
WOMAN
OUGHT TO KNOW
BY
MRS. MARY WOOD-ALLEN, M.D.
National Superintendent of the Purity
Department Woman's Christian Temperance
Union; Author of "What a Young Girl
Ought to Know," "Marvels of Our Bodily
Dwelling," "Child Confidence Rewarded,"
"Teaching Truth," "Almost a Man,"
"Almost a Woman."
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA, PA.: 200-214 N. FIFTEENTH STREET
THE VIR PUBLISHING COMPANY
LONDON: TORONTO:
4 IMPERIAL BUILDINGS, THE RYERSON PRESS,
LUDGATE CIRCUS, E.C. QUEEN AND JOHN STREETS.
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY SYLVANUS STALL
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England.
Protected by International copyright in Great Britain
and all her colonies and possessions, including India
and Canada, and, under the provisions of the Berne
Convention in Germany, Belgium, Denmark, Spain
and her colonies, France, including Algeria and the
French colonies, Haiti, Italy, Japan, Luxembourg,
Monaco, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, and Tunis.
_All rights reserved_
[PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES]
Copyright, 1889, by SYLVANUS STALL
Copyright, 1905, by SYLVANUS STALL
TO
THE DAUGHTER DEAR,
WHOSE INTIMATE AND CONFIDENTIAL COMPANIONSHIP FROM
CHILDHOOD TO WOMANHOOD HAS MADE IT POSSIBLE
FOR ME TO FEEL A SYMPATHETIC INTEREST IN
THE LIFE-PROBLEMS OF ALL GIRLS, THIS
BOOK IS MOST LOVINGLY
DEDICATED
BY HER
MOTHER
CONTENTS.
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
WHAT ARE YOU WORTH?
PAGE
The first great lesson to learn, your own importance--Probably
twelve million young women in the United States--What it means
for one of them to be sick--Woman's work in the world--The
using of spiritual forces--How much are you worth to your
home, to the community, to the state, to the nation, to the
race? 21
CHAPTER II.
CARE OF BODY.
Your body is your dwelling--It expresses you--We can judge of
character by the external appearance--The body also an
instrument and should be taken care of--Not "fussy" to take
care of it in youth--We should prepare for life 27
CHAPTER III.
FOOD.
A desire for health creates a desire to know how to obtain
it--The question of diet--We eat to repair waste and to supply
new material--Overstudy less a cause of illness than wrong
eating--Tea and coffee not foods--Alcoholic beverages
interfere with digestion--Dyspepsia produced by worry--We
should give ourselves to our friends--Young women should study
scientific cookery 33
CHAPTER IV.
SLEEP.
Every thought, activity, or motion causes expenditure of
force--In sleep the energy restored--Amount of sleep
needed--Effect of sleeplessness--Causes of unrefreshing
sleep--Ventilation of sleeping rooms--Beauty sleep 39
CHAPTER V.
BREATHING.
How often we breathe--What is accomplished by
breathing--Office of oxygen in the blood--Breathing our
measure of ability--Breathing gymnastics, their
value--Importance of the diaphragm in breathing 47
CHAPTER VI.
HINDRANCES TO BREATHING.
Effect of sitting attitudes--How to counteract this--Wrong
positions in standing--Restrictions of clothing--Rule for the
tightness of clothing--Why tight dresses may feel comfortable 55
CHAPTER VII.
ADDED INJURIES FROM TIGHT CLOTHING.
The effect upon the heart--Danger of exercising in tight
dress--Effect of tight clothing upon the kidneys, upon the
liver, stomach, and bowels--How the bowels are held in the
abdomen--Influence of tight clothing upon the pelvic
organs--Upon the circulation--A tapering waist a deformity 61
CHAPTER VIII.
EXERCISE.
The purpose of physical culture--Balance between waste and
supply--Gymnastic dress a necessity--Value of
housework--Bicycle riding--Dancing--Skating--Lawn
tennis--Running up and down stairs--Bathing 69
CHAPTER IX.
BATHING.
Beauty of complexion--Condition of skin indicates condition of
digestive organs--Pimples--Constipation--Thermal bath--Foot
bath--Time to bathe--Daily baths--The use of
soaps--Wrinkles--Care of the hands 77
PART II.
CHAPTER X.
CREATIVE POWER.
We have Godlike powers: reason, imagination, conferring
life--Organs of individual life same in both
sexes--Differences between the sexes in size--Dignity of man 87
CHAPTER XI.
BUILDING BRAINS.
Babies born deaf, dumb, blind and helpless--The activities of
the baby build its brains--Our brains develop through
cultivation of the senses--Certain areas of brain govern
certain movements of body--Can learn how to build up any part
of brain--Professor Gates' experiments in training
dogs--Creation of habits--Effects of malevolent passions, such
as anger, worry, etc. 93
CHAPTER XII.
YOU ARE MORE THAN BODY OR MIND.
You are neither body nor mind, you are spirit--Your
relationship to God--God's obligation to us--Our obligation to
Him--God's school--His method of teaching us. 99
CHAPTER XIII.
SPECIAL PHYSIOLOGY.
Differences between boys and girls--Boys need our
sympathy--The crisis in the girl's life--Sex in
mind--Description of the sex organs 105
CHAPTER XIV.
BECOMING A WOMAN.
All life from an egg--The human egg--Menstruation--Girls may
injure themselves through ignorance--Value of sex. 113
CHAPTER XV.
ARTIFICIALITIES OF CIVILIZED LIFE.
Menstruation should be painless--Dr. Mary Jacobi's
opinion--Dr. Emmett on the artificial life of young women. 119
CHAPTER XVI.
SOME CAUSES OF PAINFUL MENSTRUATION.
Woman not necessarily a semi-invalid--Effects of wrong
clothing on the young girl--Evils of novel reading--Evils of
constipation--Congestions produced by displacements--Serious
results of abdominal displacements--Value of abdominal
bandage--How to make one--How to wear it--Effects of wrong
attitude--Standing on one foot--Correct attitude. 123
CHAPTER XVII.
FEMALE DISEASES.
Displacements of uterus--Leucorrhea--Patent medicines--Honest
physicians--Sitz baths for reducing congestions--Age at which
menstruation first appears--Non-menstruation and
consumption--Mechanical hindrances to menstruation--
Suppression--Scanty flow--Profuse flow--Treatment. 135
CHAPTER XVIII.
CARE DURING MENSTRUATION.
No long walks or rides--May pursue usual avocations--If pain,
keep quiet--Do not use alcoholics of any kind--Use of
heat--Use of cold--Should you bathe at this time--Arrangement
of clothing and napkins--Mental serenity. 145
CHAPTER XIX.
SOLITARY VICE.
Its results--Causes--Lack of cleanliness--Pin-worms--All
functions attended with pleasure--Sex not low--Its development
accompanied by increased power--How overcome the bad
habit?--Remove causes of pelvic congestions--Train the
senses--Study clouds, leaves, shapes, birds, etc. 151
CHAPTER XX.
BE GOOD TO YOURSELF.
What is real fun--The effects of a wrong idea of
fun--Flirtations--Familiarities--Criticism of girls by young
men--Class of girls who are most respected--Responsibility of
girls--The conduct of a pure woman the safeguard of man. 159
CHAPTER XXI.
FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN BOYS AND GIRLS.
The meaning of friendship--Mother the girl's wisest
confidante--Kissing--Friendship between brothers and
sisters--Platonic friendships--The value of noble
companionship. 169
CHAPTER XXII.
FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN GIRLS.
Gushing girls--Manly friendships--The highest type of
friendship--To love truly is to grow strong by true giving. 177
CHAPTER XXIII.
EXERCISES.
Correct dressing--To overcome curvature--Round shoulders--To
strengthen the back--To develop the chest--Abdominal
muscles--To restore displaced organs. 181
CHAPTER XXIV.
RECREATIONS.
Walking--Running--Riding--Skating--Rowing--Cycling--Tennis--
Swimming--Skipping--Dancing--Card-playing--Theatre-going. 187
PART III.
CHAPTER XXV.
LOVE.
Different ideas of different people--Much that is called love
is selfishness--Love at first sight--Present conditions of
society unnatural--Parents unwilling to teach their children,
yet permit flirtations, etc.--What is love?--One word to
express different phases of regard--Love of man and
woman--Love should include mental congeniality, spiritual
sympathy and physical attraction--Young people should have
opportunity to get acquainted--Comradeship of young
people--Love is a growth. 199
CHAPTER XXVI.
RESPONSIBILITY IN MARRIAGE.
Who is the young man?--What are his antecedents, his talents,
his habits?--What sort of a family does he belong to?--The
wife marries her husband's family--Girls should know this--A
mother's privilege. 209
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE LAW OF HEREDITY.
A strange will--Should study the law of inheritance--Plant
heredity--Race heredity--National characteristics--Individual
inheritance--We are composite photographs--The law of heredity
a beneficial law--Transmission of evil a warning--Bad tempers
inherited--Atavism. 215
CHAPTER XXVIII.
HEREDITARY EFFECTS OF ALCOHOL, TOBACCO, ETC.
Alcoholism produces nerve degeneration--Tight lacing may have
the same result--Nerve degeneracy may lead to
alcoholism--Idiocy and inebriety increasing--Effects of
wine--Evils of patent medicines--Inebriety of parents entails
injury on offspring--Folly of marrying a man to reform
him--Hereditary effects of morphine, chloral, etc.--Dangers of
the tobacco habit--Inherited effects of tobacco. 223
CHAPTER XXIX.
EFFECTS OF IMMORALITY ON THE RACE.
The law of God not a double law--The inherited effects of
immorality--Millions die annually from its effects--
Transmitted to child or wife--Contamination through a kiss. 235
CHAPTER XXX.
THE GOSPEL OF HEREDITY.
Inheritance of good so universal that we fail to think of
it--Mercy shown to thousands of generations--Heredity not
fatality--Effects of education transmitted--Experiments of
Professor Gates on dogs--A divine inheritance. 241
CHAPTER XXXI.
REQUISITES OF A HUSBAND.
What is the young man's inheritance?--What are his
ideas?--What is his estimate of woman?--What are his
defects?--Are there adequate reasons why some should not
marry?--May not married people be happy without children--A
girl should know something of the personal habits of her
future husband--Should consider her own personal habits--How
freely may young people talk together? 247
CHAPTER XXXII.
ENGAGEMENTS.
Becoming engaged for fun--May not engaged young people throw
aside restrictions?--Long engagements--The benefits of an
engagement--Evils of a long engagement--Engagement a time of
preparation--Sexual attraction not limited to local
expression--Duty of the engaged young woman to her own
family--Jealousy the quintessence of selfishness--Trust a
suggestion to be true--Common sense needed in marriage--Hold
your lover to the highest ideals. 255
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE WEDDING.
Folly of preparing an elaborate trousseau--The way of one
sensible girl--The wedding gifts--Bridal tours--The realities
of wedded life. 267
PREFACE.
During a number of years it has been my privilege to be the confidante
and counsellor of a large number of young women of various stations in
life and in all parts of the United States.
These girls have talked freely with me concerning their plans,
aspirations, fears and personal problems. It has been a great
revelation to me to note with what unanimity they ask certain
questions concerning conduct--queries which perhaps might astonish the
mothers of those same girls, as they, doubtless, take it for granted
that their daughters intuitively understand these fundamental laws of
propriety.
The truth is that many girls who have been taught in the "ologies" of
the schools, who have been trained in the conventionalities of
society, have been left to pick up as they may their ideas upon
personal conduct, and, coming face to face with puzzling problems, are
at a loss, and perhaps are led into wrong ways of thinking and
questionable ways of doing because no one has foreseen their dilemma
and warned them how to meet it.
The subjects treated in this little book are discussed because every
one of them has been the substance of a query propounded by some girl
otherwise intelligent and well informed. They have been treated
plainly and simply because they purport to be the frank conferences of
a mother and daughter, between whom there can be no need of hesitation
in dealing frankly with any question bearing on the life, health or
happiness of the girl. There is therefore no need of apology; the book
is its own excuse for being, the queries of the young women demand
honest answers.
Life will be safer for the girl who understands her own nature and
reverences her womanhood, who realizes her responsibility towards the
human race and conducts herself in accordance with that realization.
Life will be nobler and purer in its possession and its transmission,
if, from childhood onward to old age, the thought has been held that
"Life is a gift of God and is divine," and its physical is no less
sacred than its mental or moral manifestation; if it has been
understood that the foundations of character are laid in the habits
formed in youth, and that a noble girlhood assures a grand maturity.
Dear girls who read this book, the mother-heart has gone out to you
with great tenderness with every line herein written, with many an
unspoken prayer that you will be helped, uplifted, inspired by its
reading, and made more and more to feel
"A sacred burden is this life ye bear.
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly;
Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly;
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,
But onward, upward, till the goal ye win."
MARY WOOD-ALLEN.
ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN.
PART I.
THE VALUE OF HEALTH, AND RESPONSIBILITY IN MAINTAINING IT.
WHAT A YOUNG WOMAN OUGHT TO KNOW.
CHAPTER I.
WHAT ARE YOU WORTH?
MY DAUGHTER DEAR:
When I see you with your young girl friends, when I look into your
bright faces and listen to your merry laughter and your girlish
chatter, I wonder if any one of you understands how much you are
worth. Now you may say, "I haven't any money in the bank, I have no
houses or land, I am worth nothing," but that would only be detailing
what you possess. It is not what you possess but what you are that
determines what you are worth. One may possess much wealth and be
worth very little.
I was reading the other day that the first great lesson for a _young
man_ to learn, the first fact to realize, is that he is of some
importance; that upon his wisdom, energy and faithfulness all else
depends, and that the world cannot get along without him. Now if this
is true of young men, I do not see why it is not equally true of young
women.
It is not after you have grown old that you will be of value to the
world; it is now, in your young days, while you are laying the
foundation of your character, that you are of great importance. We
cannot say that the foundation is of no importance until the building
is erected, for upon the right placing of the foundation depends the
firmness and stability of the superstructure. Dr. Conwell, in his
little book, "Manhood's Morning," estimates that there are twelve
million young men in the United States between fourteen and
twenty-eight years of age; that these twelve million young men
represent latent physical force enough to dig the iron ore from the
mines, manufacture it into wire, lay the foundation and construct
completely the great Brooklyn Bridge in three hours; that they
represent force enough, if rightly utilized, to dig the clay from the
earth, manufacture the bricks and construct the great Chinese Wall in
five days. If each one were to build himself a house twenty-five feet
wide, these houses would line both sides of eight streets reaching
across the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific. For each one to
be sick one day is equal to thirty thousand being sick an entire year.
Now, if there are twelve million young men in the United States, we
may estimate that there are an equal number of young women. Although
we cannot calculate accurately the amount of physical force
represented by these young women, there are some things we can tell.
We know that for each one of these young women to be sick one day
means thirty thousand sick one year. Just imagine the loss to the
country, and the gain to posterity if it can be prevented!
Rome endeavored to create good soldiery, but was not able to produce
strength and courage through physical culture of the men alone. Not
until she began the physical education of the women, the young women,
was she able to insure to the nation a race of strong, hardy, vigorous
soldiery. So the health of the young women of to-day is of great
importance to the nation, for upon their vigor and soundness of body
depend to a very great extent the health and capacity of future
generations. We are told that in the State of Massachusetts, in one
year, there were lost twenty-eight thousand five hundred (28,500)
years of time through the illness of working-people by preventable
diseases. Dr. Buck, in his "Hygiene," tells us that one hundred
thousand persons die every year through preventable diseases, that one
hundred and fifty thousand are constantly sick through preventable
diseases, and that the loss to the nation, through the illness of
working-people by diseases that might have been prevented, is more
than a hundred million dollars a year. So we can see that each
individual has a pecuniary value to the nation. You are worth just as
much to the nation as you can earn. If you earn a dollar a day, you
are not only worth a dollar a day to yourself and to your personal
employer, but you are worth a dollar a day to the nation; and if,
through illness, you are laid aside for one day, the nation, as well
as yourself, is pecuniarily the loser.
Young women could not build the houses that would line eight streets
from New York to San Francisco, but, rightly educated, they could
convert each one of these houses into a home, and to found a home and
conduct it properly is to help the world. It is so easy to measure
what is done with physical strength. We can see what men are doing
when they build railroads, construct immense bridges and towering
buildings, but it is more difficult to measure what is done through
intellectual and spiritual forces; and woman's work in the world is
not so much the using of strength as it is the using of those finer
forces which go to build up men and women. With this thought in your
mind, can you answer the question, How much are you worth? How much
are you worth to yourself? How much are you worth in your home? How
much money would your parents be willing to accept in place of
yourself? How much are you worth to the community in which you live?
How much are you worth to the state, the nation, the human race?
You can recognize your value in the home when you remember how much
you are the center of all that goes on there, how much your interest
is consulted in everything that is done by father and mother. You can
realize your value to the state when you realize how much money is
spent for the education of young people, how cultured men and women
give the best of their lives to your instruction. You cannot measure
your value to the human race until you begin to think that the young
people of to-day are creating the condition of the world in fifty or
one hundred years to come; that you, through your physical health, or
lack of it, are to become a source of strength or weakness in future
years, if you are a mother. It is all right that young women should
think of marriage and motherhood, provided they think of it in the
right way.
I want you to reverence yourself, to realize your own importance, to
feel that you are a necessity to God's perfect plan. When we are young
and feel that we are of no account in the world, it is difficult to
realize that God's complete plan cannot be carried out without us. The
smallest, tiniest rivet or bolt may be of such great importance in the
construction of an engine that its loss means the incapacity of that
piece of machinery to do its work. As God has placed you in the world,
He has placed you here to do a specific work for Him and for
humanity, and your failure to do that work means the failure of His
complete and perfect plan. Now can you begin to see how much you are
worth? And can you begin to realize that in the conduct of your life
as a young woman you are a factor of immense importance to the great
problem of the evolution of the human race? In the light of these
thoughts I would like to have you ask yourself this question every
day, How much am I worth?
CHAPTER II.
CARE OF BODY.
The question "How much are you worth?" is not answered by discussing
your bodily conditions, for your body is not yourself. It is your
dwelling, but not you. It, however, expresses you.
A man builds a house, and through it expresses himself. The external
appearance causes the observer to form an opinion of him, and each
apartment bears the impress of his individuality. To look at the house
and then to walk through it will tell you much of the man. The outside
will tell you whether he is neat, orderly and artistic, or whether he
cares nothing for the elements of beauty and neatness. If you go into
his parlor, you can judge whether he cares most for show or for
comfort. His library will reveal to you the character of his mind, and
the dining-room will indicate by its furnishings and its viands
whether he loves the pleasures of sense more than health of body. You
do not need to see the man to have a pretty clear idea of him.
So the body is our house, and our individuality permeates every part
of it. Those who look at our bodily dwelling can gain a very good
idea of what we are. The external appearance will indicate to a great
extent our character. We glance at one man and say, "He is gross,
sensual, cruel, domineering;" at another and say, "He is intellectual,
spiritual, fine-grained, benevolent." So we judge of entire strangers,
and usually find the character largely corresponds to our judgment,
if, later, we come to know the person.
The anatomist and microscopist who penetrates into the secrets of his
bodily house after the inhabitant has moved out can tell much of his
habits, his thoughts, his capacities and powers by the traces of
himself which he has left on the insensate walls of his dwelling. The
care of the body, then, adds to our value, because it gives us a
better instrument, a better medium of expression.
The old saying, "A workman is known by his tools," is equally true of
the body. The carpenter who cares for his saws, chisels and planes,
who keeps them sharp and free from rust, will be able to do better
work than the one who carelessly allows them to become nicked, broken,
handleless or rusted. The finer the work which one does, the greater
the care he must take of the instruments with which he works. A
jack-knife will do to whittle a pine stick, but the carver of
intricate designs must have his various sharp tools with which to make
the delicate lines and tracings.
When we speak of health and physical conditions in discussing the
question of your value, we are discussing the instrument upon whose
integrity depends your ability to demonstrate your value.
Many young people think it nonsense to pay attention to the
preservation of health. I have heard them say, "O, I don't want to be
so fussy! It will do for old folks to be coddling themselves, but I
want a good time. I'd rather die ten years sooner and have some fun
while I do live."
I wonder what these same young people would think if they should hear
a workman say, "Well, I have here a fine kit of tools; I am assured
that if they are destroyed they will never be replaced; but now, while
I am learning my trade, I don't want to be 'so fussy' about keeping
them in order. It will do for 'boss workmen' to take care of
everything so constantly, but now I want to break stones with these
delicate hammers, to cut nails with these razor-bladed knives, to
crack nuts with these slender pincers. By and by, when I am older,
I'll use them as they should be used, but I think it's all nonsense to
be so careful now." If in later years you should hear him complain
that he had nothing to work with, would you feel like pitying him?
No "kit of tools" was ever so complete as is the bodily instrument
given to each one of us. Its mechanism has been the inspiration of
inventors; it combines all forms of mechanical devices; its delicacy,
intricacy, completeness and adaptability challenge the admiration of
the philosopher, the engineer, the master mechanic.
I cannot here tell you of all its wonders,[1] but I would like to give
you such an exalted idea of its importance that you would look upon it
with reverence and take a justifiable pride in keeping it in perfect
working order. I would like to make you feel your personal
responsibility in regard to its condition.
You know that in the ages past men believed the body to be the
individual, and they endeavored through care of the body to build up
mental as well as physical power. In those days the acrobat and the
sage were found working side by side in the gymnasium, the one to gain
physical strength, the other to increase his mental ability, and each
profited as he desired.
When men made the discovery that the body is not the individual, but
merely his dwelling and instrument of expression, they came to feel
less regard for it, and lost their interest in its care and culture.
Even the early Christians, forgetting what Paul said about the body as
a temple, began to call it vile, and thought it an evidence of great
piety to treat it with contempt. I have read of one religious sect who
believed that the Creator of the body could not have been the Creator
of the soul, and held that the chief object of God's government was to
deliver the captive souls of men from their bodily prisons.
When men began to understand that the thinking principle was the real
self and the body merely a material encasement, it was no wonder that
they valued the body less and held mind as of great value. They failed
to see that mind without a material organ of expression is, in this
world, of no account. A great pianist with no piano could not make
music, and he would be considered a strange being if he did not care
for his instrument most scrupulously. Think of a Rubinstein
voluntarily breaking the piano strings or smashing the keys, while he
made discordant poundings, and excusing himself by saying that it was
"fussy" to take care of a piano until it was old. You cannot imagine
such a thing. We can all appreciate the value of a man-made instrument
or machine; but the God-created body, a combination of machines and
instruments of marvelous power and delicacy, we neglect or treat with
absolute, positive injury, and excuse ourselves on the ground that
when it is old we will treat it more kindly.
Melville says it is a sin to die, ignoring what is to be done with the
body. "That body," he says, "has been redeemed, that body has been
appointed to a glorious condition."
It seems to me we prize the body far more after its use for us is at
an end than while it is ours to use. We do not neglect the dead; we
dress them in beautiful garments, we adorn them with flowers, we
follow them to the grave with religious ceremonies, we build costly
monuments to place over their graves, and then we go to weep over
their last resting-place.
After all, is it not life that we should value? Life here and
hereafter, not death, is the real thing for which we should prepare,
and earthly life without a sound body is not life full and complete.
Life is joy, vigor, elasticity, freedom from pain or illness,
enjoyment of all innocent pleasures in maturity as well as in youth.
We have no right to look forward to decrepitude, to failure in zest of
living, to lessening of real enjoyment because of coming years. Life
should increase in beauty and usefulness, in ability and joyousness,
as the years bring us a wider experience, and this will be the case if
we in youth have been wise enough to lay the foundation of health by a
wise, thoughtful, prudent care of our bodies and our minds.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] This Dr. Mary Wood-Allen has done in a volume entitled "Marvels of
Our Bodily Dwelling." This book teaches physiology and hygiene, by
metaphor, parable, and allegory in a most charming way. Superbly
illustrated. 12mo. Price, cloth, $1.50, post free.
CHAPTER III.
FOOD.
If I can arouse in your mind a most earnest desire to be strong and
vigorous, I shall not find it necessary to give you very minute
directions, for if you have the ambition you will find the way. If I
could excite in you an intense longing to visit Paris, I should know
that you would begin to seek for the way of getting there. If I could
create in you an earnest aspiration to be well and physically strong,
I should know that you would seek for the books that would give you
the necessary instruction. It will not be needful to talk of rules and
restrictions if I can make you feel the glory of having a sound body.
If you were starting on a journey, I should not need to warn you of
by-paths, of traps, or of dangers if I could be assured that your eye
was fixed upon your ultimate destination. So it is in the matter of
health; and yet there are some general rules or principles which I
might lay down for your consideration.
In regard to the matter of diet. I do not want you to be hampered by
"don'ts" and restrictions as to what you shall eat, but I do want you
to eat with the thought in view that eating is to be governed by
judgment and not by the pleasures of sense. Why do we eat? Not merely
because the food tastes good. There is a better reason. We eat to
live. We know that the food which we take into our bodies is digested,
elaborated and assimilated--that is, made over into ourselves--and
unless this digestion, elaboration and assimilation is properly
conducted, we shall not be fully and completely nourished. Our body is
made up of cells; the food which we eat is transformed into cell
structure, and this new cell-material takes the place of the worn-out
cells. Our reason would tell us that if too little material is
furnished, cells will not be properly repaired and ill-health will
follow. Our reason would tell us in the same way that if too much
material is furnished, the machine will be clogged and the work will
not be properly done. We will also understand at once that an
irregular supply of new material would interfere with the elaboration
of that which is undergoing the process of digestion and assimilation.
We can see, too, that unless the various tissues receive the material
which they can transform into themselves, they will not be fully
repaired. If material is taken into the system which supplies no
tissue with what it needs, this material becomes a source of
irritation.
These general rules borne in mind are sufficient to guide us into a
wiser life than if we do not understand them; and, understanding
these general principles, we will be anxious to study the particular
rules which govern digestion and assimilation.
I have known young women in college to be so absolutely ignorant or
indifferent to physiological law as to be injuring themselves
constantly by disobedience of such laws. I knew one girl, supposed to
be a very fine student, and to have brought on "fits" by overstudy,
while away at school. I had an opportunity to investigate the case,
and I discovered that she had been eating from morning till night. She
carried nuts, and candy, and apples in her pocket, had pickles and
cake in her room, and studied and munched until it was no doubt a
disturbed digestion, rather than an overused brain, that caused the
"fits."
If you will eat regularly of plain meat, vegetables, fruits, cereals,
milk and eggs, plainly prepared, and avoid rich pastries, cakes,
puddings, pickles and sweetmeats, you will have compassed the round of
healthful diet, and need give yourself very little anxiety in regard
to anything more. I should like to emphasize the fact, however, that
tea and coffee are not foods. They are irritants, stimulants,
nerve-poisons. They bring nothing to the system to build it up. They
satisfy the sense of hunger without having contributed to the
nourishment of the body. If you are wise you will avoid them. You
will not create for yourself any false necessities. You will avoid
the use of alcohol in all forms, whether wine, ales, beer or cider, as
well as in the stronger forms, because you will know that these
products interfere with digestion. Dr. Kellogg, of Battle Creek, has
made an experiment which proved that sherry to the amount of 1 per
cent. of the contents of the stomach retarded digestion nearly 4 per
cent.
He calculates that 1 per cent. of sherry would be equal to two tenths
of 1 per cent. of alcohol, and it would be necessary to take less than
an ordinary tablespoonful of the wine to obtain this percentage.
When 3 per cent. of claret was used (equivalent to three-tenths of 1
per cent. of alcohol), there was marked diminution in digestive
activity. This certainly proves that even the so-called light wines
are injurious, and certainly the drinks that contain a large per cent.
of alcohol must be that much more hurtful.
If you use good judgment both as to the quality and quantity of foods,
you need then give the matter very little thought. People sometimes
make themselves dyspeptics by worrying about what they eat. Eat what
is set before you, making a judicious choice both as to variety and
quantity, and then determine that your food shall digest.
When you live upon the higher plane of thought, you will not be so
much interested in the question of food as regards gustatory
pleasure. You will understand that eating is a necessity, but you will
not be thinking about it; you will not be desiring to please the sense
of taste; you will see that there are higher forms of sociability than
mere eating with friends, and you will not be so interested in late
suppers, and in various forms of sense gratification because you enjoy
more thoroughly the higher pleasures. You will serve your friends with
delicate food, simply and daintily prepared, and seasoned with that
wit and wisdom which remain as a permanent mental pabulum. You will
make them feel that when you come to visit them you come not to get
something to eat, but to enjoy them, to receive from them the
inspiration which they can give. We often treat our friends as if we
thought they came as beggars for physical food. It is a much higher
compliment to treat them as though we thought they came to exchange
thoughts with us, to walk with us in the higher paths of living, and
that the physical food we give them is only incidental. I was once
entertained where a company of intelligent, cultured people were
assembled, and we did not see the hostess from the time we entered the
house until supper was served. She sat at the table, worried and
anxious, and after the supper was over she did not make her appearance
until just as we were about to leave. She did not pay us the high
compliment of giving us herself, but she bestowed upon us that which a
hired cook might have given.
You remember what Emerson says: "I pray you, O excellent wife, cumber
not yourself and me to get a curiously rich dinner for this man and
woman who have just alighted at our gate. These things, if they desire
them, they can get for a few shillings at any village inn; but rather
let that stranger see, if he will, in your looks, accents and
behavior, your heart and earnestness, your thought and will, that
which he cannot buy at any price in any city, and which he may travel
miles and dine sparely and sleep hardly to behold."
It would indeed be worth your while to study food scientifically, to
know how to prepare dainty and tempting dishes wholesomely, and then
to serve your guests with such beauty of manner, such graciousness of
courtesy, that they will remember the meal they have taken with you as
idyllic in its simplicity, beauty and helpfulness.
CHAPTER IV.
SLEEP.
Shakespeare writes of "Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of
care." The metaphor is striking, but not accurate. To knit up that
which is ravelled implies using the old material in repairing the
damage, but that is not the way in which the body is rebuilt. The old
material is thrown out and new material put in its place, and that
largely takes place during sleep. We have read of brownies who came at
night and swept and churned and baked while the housewife slept. So,
in our bodily dwelling, the vital forces are our brownies, and they
can work more uninterruptedly while we are asleep than when we are
calling on them to move us from place to place, or to aid us in
various activities.
Much of life's processes must remain a mystery to us, but certain
things we have learned, and one is that perfect health cannot be
maintained, strong nerves cannot be constructed, nor a clear brain be
built without plenty of sleep. The baby sleeps almost continually
because he is building so much new structure. The growing child needs
more sleep than the adult; but even after reaching maturity sleep
cannot be materially lessened without injury to the whole
organization.
We appreciate the need of food. We are often very needlessly alarmed
for fear that we shall starve from one meal to the next, but few of us
realize that food cannot be assimilated, built into tissue, without
some hours in which the vital forces can devote themselves wholly to
the work of assimilation. During the working hours of the day we are
expending force. The brain is using it in thought, the muscles are
calling for force in various activities, the emotions are expending
energy, and each of these activities is creating changes in the cells
of the body. We know that life in the body is only possible through
constant death of the atoms of which it is composed. We can only live
because we are constantly dying. Huxley says, "For every vital act,
life is used up. All work implies waste, and the work of life results
directly or indirectly in the waste of protoplasm (which is the cell
substance). Every word uttered by a speaker costs him some physical
loss, and in the strictest sense he burns that others may have light."
Each word, thought, activity, emotion causes expenditure, and unless
expenditure is in some way made good, there will be bankruptcy. How
shall we get back the energy we have expended and so restore our vital
forces to their equilibrium? The protoplasm of which our cells are
made we can obtain from the protoplasm of animal and vegetable
substances which we eat, but we cannot use the material unless we are
sometimes at rest, and by quiescence of brain and muscle give a chance
for worn-out cells to be removed and new material put in their place.
It is when we lay our bodies down in the beautiful repose of slumber
that this process can go on with most perfect results. Then, when all
the forces can be concentrated on the process of nutrition, will
nutrition be most perfect. When we awake refreshed after a night of
sound sleep we are really fed. It is quite doubtful if, in a normal
condition, we would want food until we had been at work some time and
by destroying tissue have created a demand for more new material.
If we were only half as anxious that food should be assimilated--that
is, made over into ourselves--as we are that it should be put into the
stomach, we would be very careful to secure for ourselves a due amount
of good sleep. And what is a due amount? That depends. I once heard of
a servant girl whose mistress complained of her because she did not
get up early in the morning, and the girl's excuse was, "But, ma'am, I
can't get up early because I sleep so slow."
It seems a ridiculous statement, and yet there is a germ of truth in
it. In some people the vital processes go on with such rapidity that
the old, worn-out material will be eliminated and the new material
built into the body in a comparatively short time. Seven hours of good
sleep, perhaps, make them feel strong and rested and able to start on
a new day's work with courage and ease. In others the vital processes
are hindered or work feebly and slowly, and eight or nine hours of
sleep scarcely suffice to complete the work of restoration. What is
the obvious inference? Simply that each one shall judge for himself;
but each should be wise enough not to confuse sleeplessness with
having had sufficient sleep.
Very frequently the loss of sleep makes it difficult or impossible to
sleep, and not until the excited condition of nerves can be calmed,
can refreshing slumber be obtained. Young women who attempt to be in
school and in society at the same time often bring themselves into the
condition of insomnia or sleeplessness, and foolishly fancy that
because they do not sleep they do not need it.
It is not at all difficult to understand that if you are constantly
taking money out of the bank, you must also be constantly putting
money in, or some day you will be told that your account is already
overdrawn and your draft will not be honored. One can overdraw for a
time, and right here is the danger with young people. They fancy,
because they are not at once told that they are overdrawing, that
their bank account is unlimited, and then, when it is too late, they
find themselves on the verge, if not clear over the verge, of
bankruptcy.
How shall you know whether you sleep enough? If you will make it a
rule to go to bed by ten o'clock every night, and go to sleep at once,
and sleep soundly and waken with a clear head and a rested feeling,
you may infer that you have slept enough. If you are still tired or
dull, something is wrong. You may have been in bed long enough, but
your room may not have been ventilated, and so you may be poisoned by
breathing over and over again the emanations from your own body. Or
for some reason the process of digestion and assimilation may not have
been carried on, and poisons have been created instead of being
eliminated.
If you waken unrefreshed, I should want to inquire into your habits of
life. Was there opportunity for fresh air to enter your room? Was
there in it no uncovered vessel, no old shoes in the closet, no soiled
underclothing, nothing that could contaminate the atmosphere? Did you
eat a hearty supper late in the evening? Is your system oppressed with
a superabundance of sweets? Are you living on simple, wholesome food,
or eating irregularly of all sorts of trash? There may be many causes,
you see, for your "tired feeling" in the morning, and instead of
taking some "Sarsaparilla," or other drug, I should try to find out
the cause and remove it.
Many people are afraid of night air, and scrupulously shut it out of
their sleeping-rooms, and yet, what kind of air can you get at night
but night air? And is it not better to have pure night air from out of
doors than the impure night air of a close room? I once went with two
ladies to ascend the Rigi in Switzerland, in order to see the sun
rise. One of these was a Polish countess, who took with her a little
black-and-tan terrier. The hotel at the Rigi Staeffel was crowded, and
we thought ourselves very fortunate to secure a room with three beds.
The Countess disposed herself in one bed with her little dog, and I
took one bed, saying to my friend, "You'll please open the window
before you go to bed?" "O certainly," she replied.
The little Countess sprang up in evident alarm. "Open the window!" she
cried; "why, we'd all take our death of cold! I beg of you don't do
it. I could not sleep a wink if the window were open."
My friend spoke reassuringly to her, and she at length grew quiet,
when my friend surreptitiously raised a window and we went to sleep.
The next morning the Countess asked, with a strange air of
incredulity, "Were you in earnest when you spoke about opening the
window? Why, I never heard of such a thing in my life. I know I
should have been ill if you had persisted in having the window open."
My friend and I exchanged glances silently. We knew she was not ill
and she had slept with the window open, but doubtless she would have
been ill had she known it was open, for she had a wonderful
imagination. When we were called at three o'clock to get up and go to
the top of the mountain to see the sun rise, she turned herself
luxuriously in her bed and said she could imagine it. She had taken
this journey and "climbed the mountain" (that is, was carried up in a
chair, with her dog in her lap), to see the famous sunrise on the
Rigi, and then remained in bed and imagined it! Her imagination seemed
entirely satisfactory, and so we did not quarrel with her.
Sleep is the most positive beautifier, the best cosmetic. The term
"beauty sleep" is no misnomer. Sleep freshens the complexion, smoothes
out wrinkles, clears out the brain, strengthens the muscles, puts
light into the eyes and color into the cheek.
CHAPTER V.
BREATHING.
The first thing you did when you came into this world was to inspire,
that is, to breathe in. The last thing you will do will be to expire,
that is, to breathe out. And between your first inspiration and your
last expiration there will have been the process of respiration, that
is, breathing in and out at an average rate of twenty times a minute.
Twenty times a minute means twelve hundred times an hour, or nearly
thirty thousand times a day, or over ten million times a year. If you
should live to be fifty years old, you will have breathed in and out
over five hundred million times. We eat three times a day, twenty-one
times a week, over a thousand times a year, fifty thousand times in
fifty years, but we breathe over five hundred million times in fifty
years.
We realize the importance of eating, but we can live days without
food. On the other hand, we cannot live many seconds entirely without
air. We must infer from all this that breathing is more important than
eating. How can it be? From our food our body is rebuilt. What
life-process is accomplished by breathing?
To understand this, we must learn what processes are going on in the
body, by means of which food is converted into tissue, into heat and
energy. These processes we find are chemical, and may be likened to
the combustion of wood or coal in the furnace. We know that fire must
have air in order to burn. Burning is the process of oxidation or
combustion of oxygen with the atoms of fuel and the formation of a new
substance thereby. Coal, we are told, consists of carbon and nitrogen,
both of which readily combine with oxygen, and in the process of
uniting heat is liberated, and waste compounds thus formed pass off
through the smokestack or chimney. We may not understand this
scientifically, but we know that if we want the fire to burn well we
must give it draft or air.
Our bodies are living engines, and use food and air instead of coal
and air. Food in the body without air is like the coal in an engine
without air; and air is useful only because it brings oxygen to unite
chemically with the food. This process is going on all over the body.
Each little microscopical cell is a furnace in which oxidation is
taking place; and not only is energy liberated, but reconstructive
processes are going on, new tissues are being formed, and old tissues
removed.
But how can the oxygen get to the cells in all parts of the body? We
can readily see how it gets to the air-cells of the lungs, but it
would do little good if it stopped there. It must be carried in some
way to all the minutest cells of all the tissues. This is done through
the breathing. The blood goes to the lungs, and there it gives out the
waste material it has collected in its journey through the body and
takes up oxygen. The blood goes to the lungs dark in color from its
load of waste. It is changed to a bright red by taking up oxygen. Each
red blood-corpuscle takes a load of oxygen, carries it to its
destination, and gives it to some tissue to be used up in the chemical
process of oxidation, upon which depends our life and energy. During
the hours of rest the tissues are busy in this process, and during
exercise the energy stored up in the tissue-cells is liberated and
waste created. So we see that the process is a continual round of
taking food and air, using them in rebuilding tissue, then using up
the tissue by exercise and casting out the waste products. And now we
can begin to understand that we live in proportion as we breathe. Dr.
Holbrook says: "The activity of the child is in close relation to the
strength of its lungs; so, too, is the calmness, dignity and power of
a man in proportion to the depth and tranquility of his respiration.
If the lungs are strong and active, there is courage and boldness; if
feeble, there is cowardice and debility. To be out of spirits is to be
out of breath. To be animated and joyous is to be full of breath."
"Breathing," writes Dr. von der Deeken, "is an actual vivifying act,
and the need of breath as felt is a real life-hunger and a proof that
without the continual charging of the blood-column with the proper
force, all the other vital organs would soon stagnate and cease action
altogether."
Now I wonder how many young women really know how to breathe. "Why,"
you say, "we have always breathed!" And I reply, "So you have, to some
extent; but do you really breathe, or do you just let a little current
of air flow gently through a part of your lungs, not reaching the
minute air-cells at all, or have you crippled a large part of your
lung-power by the restrictions of tight clothing?" Now you shrug your
shoulders and say, with a little irritation, perhaps, "O, now she is
going to scold about corsets and tight-lacing, and I do not wear my
clothes tight." But I am not now going to talk of lacing; I am going
to talk about singing, and speaking, and real living. The highest
class of living creatures are those that have most power to breathe.
The cold-blooded animals breathe little, and are slow-moving creatures
with deficient sensation and small powers of action. Man has large
lung-capacity and should be full of life and power, and will be, if he
understands himself. One benefit of exercise is the added impulse
given to the heart and lungs, calling for more breath, and bringing
more blood to the lungs to receive the added supply of oxygen.
If we were wise we would practise the art of deep, voluntary
breathing, as a daily form of gymnastics. What would it do for us?
Wonderful things, if we may believe the doctors. Even in the old Greek
and Roman times the doctors recommended deep breathing, the voluntary
holding of air in the lungs, believing that this exercise cleansed the
system of impurities and gave strength. And all our scientific
discoverers have proven that they were right, and modern doctors have
only learned more of the process and added to the wisdom of the
ancients. Professor Lehwess says that he uses deep breathing not only
as a health remedy but as a cure for muscular convulsions, especially
chronic spasms; and he says that he bases his method for the cure of
stuttering mainly upon respiratory and vocal exercises, "whereby," he
says, "we work on enervated muscles, and make their function bring
them into permanent activity and make them obedient to our will." Thus
not only will the respiratory system be enlarged and quickened, and
the lungs strengthened, but the blood circulation is promoted and
those injurious influences overcome which often take away the
stutterer's courage for speaking.
Dr. Niemeyer, of Leipzig, urges breathing in these words: "Prize air;
use good, pure air; breathe fresh air in your room by night and day."
Dr. Bicking says that respiratory gymnastics are the only effectual
remedy for pulmonary affection, especially for consumption. The
Marquise Ciccolina claims that by the teaching of breathing gymnastics
she has cured people of a tendency to take cold easily; she has
benefited cases of lung and heart trouble, and she has cured nervous
asthma even in cases that have lasted from childhood to maturity. Dr.
Kitchen asserts that if the various structures of the body, including
the lungs, are in a sufficiently healthy state, consumption cannot
find a soil in which to commence its ravages, or, if already
commenced, can be cured by attention to the general health, by pure
air and deep breathing.
All this proves that the breathing is of great importance--of just as
much importance to women as to men. It used to be thought that women
breathe naturally with the upper part of the chest and men with the
abdominal muscles, but we have now learned that in the breathing of
both men and women the diaphragm should be used and the lower part of
the chest expanded. The breathing should neither be thoracic--that is,
with the upper part of the chest--nor abdominal. It should be
diaphragmatic; that is, with the expansion of the sides of the lower
part of the chest, thus filling every air-cell and bringing the
life-giving oxygen to the blood. The importance of the diaphragm as
the breathing muscle cannot be overestimated. A diaphragm, you know,
is a partition across a cylinder; the diaphragm is a muscular
partition across the cylinder of the body, dividing the lungs from the
abdomen. In breathing, the diaphragm becomes tense, and in becoming
tense becomes also flattened, just as an umbrella does by being
opened. In fact the opening and shutting of an umbrella gives a very
good idea of the motion of the diaphragm in breathing. We can realize,
then, how much larger around the body will be when the lungs are fully
inflated than it is when we breathe the air out and the lungs are
empty. A few minutes spent each day in exercising in diaphragmatic
breathing would be of great advantage in increasing beauty of form, in
giving strength and power to the voice, in improving the complexion
and adding to the health, and therefore to the happiness. In taking
these exercises, one should either stand erect or lie flat upon the
back and draw the air in through the nose, keeping the mouth closed.
Draw in gently, allowing the chest to expand at the sides, hold the
air for a little time, and then breathe out slowly.
These exercises performed in a room that is well ventilated, or,
better still, in the pure air of outdoors, will do much toward driving
away headaches, clearing the brain, giving better judgment, stronger
will, and a clearer, happier, brighter disposition.
CHAPTER VI.
HINDRANCES TO BREATHING.
This little conversation will be on the hindrances to deep breathing,
for if we make up our minds that it is so important to breathe deeply
we shall be very anxious to know how to avoid the hindrances to deep
breathing. First, let me speak of attitude. If you study physiology
and note the arrangement of the internal organs, you will very easily
see that when the body is compressed in a sitting attitude there must
be a hindrance to full and deep breathing. The girl who is running the
typewriter or the sewing-machine, or the girl who is working as
bookkeeper or stenographer, or the girl at her studies, is sitting so
that it will not be possible to breathe deeply, for the lungs are
encroached upon by the crowding together of the other _viscera_ (which
means the vital organs) and the action of the breathing muscles is
impeded by compression. As you will readily observe, there can be no
lifting of the chest in this compressed attitude, no complete
flattening of the diaphragm, no full inflation of the minute
air-cells; therefore, as we have learned, the blood is not thoroughly
purified, and actual poisons created by the vital processes
accumulate in the brain and tissues until you feel overpoweringly
weary and stupid. You cannot think, because you cannot fully breathe.
You have often found, when sewing, that the machine would get, as you
say, bewitched. It wouldn't feed, the thread would break or the needle
would snap, and the whole work go wrong. Put the machine away, take a
rest, and the next day, without doing anything at all to the machine,
you find that it runs perfectly. The trouble was with yourself. It is
so with the girl who is running the typewriter. She finds that it
makes mistakes in spelling, things go wrong altogether. It "acts up,"
as she would say. So with the girl who is bookkeeper. The figures will
not add themselves up right. Now if, under these circumstances, the
girl would get up, go to the door, take a few deep breaths and expand
the lungs fully, she would relieve the internal congestion consequent
upon the cramped position, the brain would be freed from the
accumulated poison, and as a consequence the troublesome problems
would soon be solved, the typewriter would spell correctly, the
figures would add themselves up accurately, and life would become
brighter at once. Five minutes spent each hour in deep breathing of
pure air would add both to the quality and quantity of work done, and
so be a saving of time. This certainly is of great value to you in
your work in the world.
After working-hours are over, the girl should make a special effort to
sit erect for other reasons than that of breathing, though that is
reason enough.
But wrong sitting-postures are not the only attitudes that interfere
with deep breathing. Very often the position in standing is also
objectionable. When one stands with the weight resting on the heels
the body is thrown out of balance, and as a consequence the shoulders
are not on a vertical line with the hips. In this attitude it is
impossible to manifest fullness of life, because the lungs are not
fully inflated with air at each breath. We live, enjoy, accomplish
only in proportion to our breathing ability. As one writer says, "The
deep thinker, the orator, the fine singer, must of necessity be a good
breather."
The most serious hindrance to deep breathing is found in the
restrictions of the clothing. I do not say of the corsets, because
tight bands or waists can also compress the body and make full
breathing impossible. Of course you say your dresses are loose, and
you run your hand up under your waist to prove it to me. I will not
argue the question with you, but I will ask you to argue it with
yourself.
If breathing is the measure of your living and doing, then if, in the
least degree, you limit by your dress your breathing, the dress is too
tight. "Well," you ask "how shall I know if I am hindering my
breathing? My dress feels comfortable. It seems to me that I breathe.
Is there any way that I can prove whether my dress is tight or not?"
It is true that one becomes accustomed to uncomfortable things and
scarcely realizes that they ever were uncomfortable. The dress may
seem a little tight when you first put it on, then it begins to grow
comfortable, and after a while it feels loose, and you say it
certainly is loose. I will give a simple rule by which you may know
whether your clothing is loose enough or not. Unfasten every article
of clothing; dress, corset, skirt-bands, everything. Now breathe in
slowly until every air-cell is full. It may take some practice to do
this, but persevere until you find the chest elevated and filled to
its utmost extent. It should swell out at the sides along the line of
the insertion of the diaphragm. There should be no heaving of the
chest. Now, with the lungs so completely filled with air, bring your
dress waist together without pulling a particle. Will it fasten
without pressing out a bit of air from the lungs? If so, it is loose
enough. If, however, you have to pull it together, even to the tiniest
extent, you have pressed out some of the air. The minute air-cells
that have thus been emptied cannot be again filled while the dress is
fastened. Therefore you are defrauded of your rightful amount of air,
and because part of the air is pressed out, the lungs take less space
and the dress seems looser. You can understand how that would be.
The trouble is that our dresses are usually fitted over empty lungs.
The dressmaker pulls the dress together, squeezes the air out of the
lungs, and fastens the dress. Now you can readily understand that it
will be impossible to fill those air-cells so long as the dress is
worn, and yet it may not seem uncomfortable, because we become
accustomed to it. Nature has made us so that we can accustom ourselves
to many things that are not absolutely healthful, but this should not
make us willing to live unhealthfully when it is possible to avoid
it.
CHAPTER VII.
ADDED INJURIES FROM TIGHT CLOTHING.
We have talked of the effect of tight clothing upon the breathing
power. Let us see what other injuries arise from wearing the dress too
tight. In the first place, the action of the heart is impeded. The
heart is a hollow muscle which must be continually filled with blood
and emptied again many times a minute from the moment of birth till
the moment of death. You have been lying down for an hour; let me
count your pulse. Now sit up for a few moments. I find, now, that it
beats faster. Now stand up, and it beats still faster. You see, it
increases continually as you get into the erect position. Now walk
quickly across the floor and you will see how much it has increased
again in rapidity.
You will realize how much the dress interferes with the action of the
heart better from an illustration. Professor Sargent made an
experiment with a number of girls. One day they were dressed in
perfectly loose clothing. He counted the pulse of each. It beat on the
average of eighty-four times in a minute. He had them run five hundred
and forty yards in the space of two and a half minutes. The pulse was
again counted. It had increased to one hundred and fifty-six beats in
a minute. This illustrates the effect of exercise even in loose
clothing. The next day at the same time, dressed with a corset which
reduced the waist to twenty-four inches, they ran the same distance in
the same length of time, and then he found that the pulse had run up
to one hundred and sixty-eight beats in a minute, showing how much
harder it was for the heart to do its work when restricted by tight
clothing. No acrobat would attempt to perform feats of strength or of
agility if restricted even so much as by a belt.
The Russian Government has issued an edict that the soldiers must wear
their pantaloons held up by suspenders, for it has been demonstrated
that when they wear them supported by a belt around the waist they are
not able to do a fair amount of work. The Austrian Government has also
decreed that the pantaloons of soldiers are not to be suspended by
belts because of the increase of kidney difficulty caused thereby.
We will understand why kidney difficulty is caused by tight clothing
when we study the location of the kidneys and how they are affected by
compression of the ribs. Most people think the kidneys lie low down in
the back, but in reality they lie up under the short ribs, and the
pressure of tight clothing brings the ribs to bear directly upon the
kidneys, injuring them in such a way as often to cause disease.
The heart and lungs are protected by a bony framework called the
thorax, but below the thorax there is no protection for the internal
organs except that of the muscles, therefore the corset or tight
clothing can do most damage to the vital organs below the diaphragm.
The largest of these is the liver. It should lie close up under the
diaphragm, from which it is suspended. Under the influence of tight
clothing it is often pressed over on the right side, sometimes
extending over the whole front of the body, or even as low down as the
navel. It is rutted by the pressure of the ribs. The corset liver is
well known in the dissecting-room. Sometimes, where corsets are not
worn and tight skirts are worn, supported by the hips, the liver has
almost been cut in two, the pieces being only held together by a
sufficient band of tissue to keep them from dying.
When Hiram Powers, the great sculptor, was in this country, he once
attended an elegant party, and was observed watching very intently a
beautifully dressed, fashionable woman. A friend, noticing his
interest, said to him, "What an elegant figure she has, hasn't she?"
"Well," said Powers, "I was wondering where she put her liver."
You see, Powers had studied the human body, and when he saw such an
outline as the figure of a fashionable woman, he knew that some
internal organ must be displaced in order to create that tapering
waist, and his anxiety was for the internal organs. As an artist he
did not admire the tapering waist, as is shown by the beautiful marble
statue which he made. No artist would perpetuate in marble the figure
of the fashionable woman.
Not only is the liver thus displaced, but the stomach is often pressed
out of its original position, which should be also close up under the
diaphragm, towards the left side. By the pressure of clothing it is
sometimes pushed down until it lies in the abdominal cavity, even as
low down as the navel. This is the statement of Dr. J.H. Kellogg, who,
in his sanitarium at Battle Creek, examines hundreds, or even
thousands of women in a year, and asserts that it is almost impossible
to find a woman whose stomach is where it belongs. This is a serious
matter, because no organ can do its work properly when it is out of
its rightful position. We understand this in any machinery except that
of the human body. We would not meddle with a man-made machine because
that would hinder its perfect working, but we do not hesitate to
interfere with the body, forgetful that it, too, is a machine,
divinely created, and with powers most fateful to us for weal or woe.
But the harm is not all done by the displacement of the organs
mentioned. The bowels suffer, and we can best understand what is done
to them when we understand how they are placed in the abdominal
cavity.
Let me take the ruffle you are making. The mesentery is a delicate,
narrow membrane about twenty feet long. We will compare it to the
ruffle. Folded in it at one edge are the small intestines, just as I
can run this bodkin into the hem of this ruffle. The other edge of the
mesentery is gathered up as you have gathered the ruffle. It is
gathered into a space of about six inches in length, and is fastened
up and down the spine in the region of the small of the back. You can
see, if I gather up twenty feet of this ruffle into a space of six
inches, how the mesentery, with the intestines folded in the free
edge, are held in the abdominal cavity. They are held loosely, and at
the same time so that the intestines cannot be tied in knots or loops
upon each other. In this way the ruffle flares out into the abdominal
cavity. The intestines should stay in their place close up under the
liver and stomach, but if pressure is brought to bear around the body
at this point, the bowels begin to sag into the abdominal cavity. The
abdominal walls lose their tonicity because they are so compressed
that they cannot have a perfect circulation, the bowels sink down
still further into the pelvis, and pull upon their attachment in the
small of the back, creating backache. The stomach sags down into the
cavity; the liver sinks, and all the organs pull upon their
attachments; so it is no wonder that women have backaches and
headaches, and their eyes feel bad, and they are unable to stand or
walk. We don't want small rooms in our dwelling-houses, we don't like
it if we haven't sufficient space for our furniture; but in this
bodily house in which we dwell we are quite willing to constrict the
rooms in which the vital organs or furniture are placed, until
everything is huddled together in the closest pressure, so that the
organs are unable to do their work. It wouldn't matter in our parlors
if the chairs and tables were huddled close together, for they are not
constantly changing in size, but it does matter in a room where
machines must have space to work and such space is not permitted them;
and we cannot expect good work where we crowd machinery so that it
does not have adequate room.
The influence of tight clothing upon the pelvic organs is to displace
them and create a great many difficulties which we know as "Female
Diseases." But these, in my opinion, are not the most important
things. The important things are the displacement of the vital organs
of the body--those organs without which we cannot live, and those
organs the perfect working of which is necessary both to our health
and our happiness. If we are wise we will be exceedingly anxious that
every vital organ shall be allowed to hold its own position, to do
its own work, with plenty of room.
The impeding of the heart-action by tight clothing is not in itself
the most serious effect of this restriction. The serious trouble is in
the disturbance of the circulation. Upon a perfect circulation depends
perfect nutrition. The blood must go in sufficient quantity to every
organ in order that it may be fully nourished. When the waist is
compressed the organs do not receive their full amount of blood. It is
retained, and therefore the organs are congested. The feet are cold
because the blood does not reach them in sufficient quantity, and the
brain, it may be, is hot, because the blood is not taken from the head
with enough rapidity and furnished to the other organs. So we find
that tight clothing interferes with the integrity and health of every
organ in the body, and consequently with our happiness and with our
usefulness.
The reason we admire the tapering waist is because we have been
wrongly educated. We have acquired wrong ideas of beauty. We have
accepted the ideals of the fashion-plate rather than those of the
Creator. We find that some form of physical deformity maintains in
almost every country. The Chinese deform the feet, and we think this
is barbarous, but it is really not as serious as the deforming of the
vital parts of the body. The Flathead Indian is deformed in babyhood
by being compressed between boards until the head changes its shape.
Among some savage nations the leg is bandaged for a few inches above
the ankle and for a few inches below the knee and the central part is
allowed to expand as it will, and this deformity to them constitutes
beauty. Among other nations, holes are made in the ears and pieces of
wood are inserted. The size of these pieces is gradually increased
until the lobe of the ear will hang down upon the shoulder and a piece
of wood as large as a man's arm be worn in the ears. All of these
things seem to us most horrible; yet, after all, they are not as much
an insult to the Divine Architect of the body as the deformity
practised by civilized and so-called Christian people, who by
restriction of the waist interfere with the vital organs and prevent
the body from being perfect in its development, or perfect in its
action. The activity of the body is an evidence of its life, and if it
is so tied up that it cannot be active, it certainly is not in the
fullest condition of life.
CHAPTER VIII.
EXERCISE.
You said to me, my daughter, that you wanted to join the class in
Physical Culture. I asked you why, and you said because you thought
you needed to build up in certain parts of the body. You were
defective in muscular development; you needed also to acquire grace,
you thought. And I said, "Is muscular development the primary object
of physical education?" You seemed to think that it is. Now I want to
talk to you a little along that line, and to demonstrate to you, if I
can, that physical education is not primarily for the building up of
big muscle, or for the gaining of power to do great feats of bodily
strength or skill. The object of physical education is to develop a
quickly responsive, flexible instrument for the soul to use, for that
is what the body is. Physical culture, rightly conducted, aims to
secure the highest condition of the body through the exercises that
are required by the laws of the body. Law, physical law, governs the
body, and exercise should be according to this law. The first object
of exercise is to make a vital supply for the whole body. This is
first secured by proper attitude. If we stand or sit properly we gain
a proper position of the vital organs, and then they will do their
work well, and the result will be more perfect nutrition.
The use of certain organs increases supply, and the use of others
quickens waste; a balance should be maintained between the two. We
must nourish the life-sustaining organs before using the organs which
use up brain-supply, therefore we want to be sure that we are working
according to these laws. A great many people have an idea that
physical culture means building up big muscle. They measure the
muscles of the arm and of the leg, and judge by their increase in size
of the value of the exercise. This is not a correct measurement.
Individuals may weigh themselves down by development of muscles until
they have not sufficient internal vital force to carry so much weight.
If we could only balance between the organs which supply nutriment and
the organs which use it up, we would keep in perfect health.
We want to learn how to secure a maximum of results with a minimum of
force. That is, we want the body to be quickly responsive, to be
flexible, to be so that we can use it for the things we want to do
without wasting strength, and yet without being weighed down by a
superabundance of muscular tissue.
The first desideratum in taking exercise is to have every organ of the
body free, therefore a gymnastic dress is a necessity. Then we should
have the exercise conducted by some one who understands the
peculiarities of each individual and knows just what exercises are
suited for her in her special physical condition. They should also be
directed by one who understands perfectly that the girl with an anæmic
brain, that is, with a brain having too little blood, cannot be
conducted on the same plan as the exercise of the girl who has a
superabundance of blood in the brain.
The best exercise is that which employs the mind pleasantly. A good
deal of exercise may be obtained in housework, and, if conducted with
pleasure in the work, may be of great physical advantage. Not long ago
I listened to a very charming talk by a lady whose dress betokened her
a woman of society. She wore white kid gloves, a dainty flower bonnet,
and in herself appeared an exponent of leisure and happiness. Her
address was entitled "The Home Gymnasium," and I supposed that it
would consist of descriptions of machinery that could be put up in
one's own dwelling for gymnastic purposes, but I soon found that her
home gymnasium meant household duties. She said one could scrub the
table and obtain the best exercise for arms and chest, and at the same
time produce an article or piece of furniture which would be a delight
to the eye in its whiteness and brightness. She said that in
scrubbing the floor one obtained very much the same movement that
would be given in the gymnasium, while at the same time the exercise
would conduce not only to the personal advantage but to the happiness
of the family. She spoke of sweeping, and dusting, and bed-making, and
expressed herself as competent to do all these kinds of work, in fact,
as doing them. And she said she never felt more of a lady than when
scrubbing her kitchen floor, and she was not ashamed to be seen by her
friends at this work. If any one rang the door-bell, she said she
would simply put on a clean apron and go to the door, and remark
without hesitation that she was just scrubbing her kitchen floor, but
she was glad to see her friends.
This sort of a home gymnasium is at the command of nearly every girl,
and if she can bring herself to feel an interest in this home
gymnastic exercise, she may find it conducive not only to her own
physical well-being, but to the comfort and happiness of all about
her.
The question is often asked whether bicycle-riding is injurious for
girls, and I would say that in my opinion it depends largely upon the
girl. Has she good common sense? Of course I am speaking of the girl
who is in a normal condition of health. A girl of extreme delicacy, or
who is subject to some functional difficulty, or the victim of some
organic disease, might not find it advantageous to ride. A physician
should, in these cases, be consulted. But for the ordinary girl, the
girl of fairly good health, if she will learn how to sit properly upon
her saddle, will have the good sense to ride with judgment, it seems
to me that the exercise must be productive of great good.
My own experience is somewhat limited. I made some discoveries in my
attempts to ride. In the first place, I learned that it was important
to know how to sit. In reading a book on "Physical Culture and Hygiene
for Women," by Dr. Anna Galbraith, I found this sentence: "Sit upon
the gluteal muscles, and not upon the perineum." This was a revelation
to me. I found that I had been doing the thing which was not proper,
and bearing the weight almost entirely upon the perineum had caused
constant rectal irritation. The gluteal muscles, closely held
together, form a firm support for the body without injuring any of the
vital organs. I found that by distributing the weight--a little upon
the handle-bars, and some upon the feet--I was able to sit with less
weight and heaviness upon the saddle. I found, too, that it was quite
important to have the saddle high enough, so that the legs might be
fully extended at each stroke, and with these precautions I found the
wheel a source both of enjoyment and of strength.
The harm done by the wheel I believe in most instances to be due to
an ill-adapted saddle or a lack of good judgment in the amount of
exercise taken. It is such a fascinating exercise, one seems to be
flying and scarcely realizes how much of nerve-force is being
expended. If the girl learning to ride will be prudent, gauging the
amount of exercise by her amount of strength; if she will gradually
acquire the needed strength before attempting long wheeling trips; if
she will be judicious and not ride, perhaps, during the first two or
three days of menstruation, there seems to be no reason why the
ordinary girl should not be entirely benefited by this most delightful
form of exercise. It is not as objectionable, to any degree, as the
exercise of dancing. Dancing is a most fascinating amusement, and if
it only could be conducted under proper circumstances it would be very
delightful. In itself it is not so objectionable as in its
concomitants; the late hours, the improper dressing, the hearty
suppers in the middle of the night, the promiscuous association and
the undue familiarity of the attitude of the round dance are what make
dancing objectionable. If dancing could be conducted out of doors, in
the daylight, with intimate friends, without the round dances, only
those forms of dancing which may be likened to gymnastics, as the
contra-dance, the cotillion, the objections to dancing would be
largely removed, but I am of the opinion that a large share of the
fascination of dancing would go at the same time.
Skating is a delightful, invigorating form of exercise, if conducted
with judgment. One objection to it is that the girl will skate until
wearied, and then, in that exhausted condition, perhaps ride home, or
take a long, tiresome walk from the pond to her residence, all of
which is sapping her unduly and annulling the value of the skating as
an exercise.
Lawn-tennis is delightful and beneficial, provided it is undertaken
with due judgment and the girl is properly dressed. In fact, the
subject of dress is so closely associated with that of exercise that
they can never be considered separately. Even the moderate exercise of
walking, conducted in the dress of the fashionable woman, is in itself
an element of danger, whereas more violent exercise in a loose dress
becomes a means of increased strength and vigor.
I am often asked if girls should be allowed to run up and down stairs.
I see no reason why girls should not go up and down stairs just as
freely as boys, if they are properly dressed; but going up and down
stairs in tight clothing is certainly very injurious.
CHAPTER IX.
BATHING.
You and your girl friends take much pains with your personal
adornment. You spend time in curling your hair and in putting on
ribbons and laces, but I sometimes think you do not pay as much
attention to personal cleanliness as you ought. It would seem as if
some of you thought that powder would cover a defect in cleanliness
and perfumery would conceal the odors of the person; but indeed it
seems to me that the stylish make-up of your dress or the curl of your
hair is of very little importance compared with the care of your
health.
You each desire to have a beautiful complexion. I used to be told in
my childhood that beauty was only skin-deep, but I have learned
better. I know that even the beauty of the complexion depends upon the
integrity of the nutritive organs as well as upon the care and
attention given to matters of personal cleanliness.
I read the other day of a discussion between two young men concerning
the cleanliness of girls of their acquaintance. One young man noticed
that although one of the girls wore a very pretty dress-gown, she had
forgotten to clean her finger-nails. The other remarked that many
things in regard to a girl's personal cleanliness could be learned by
riding behind her on a tandem. The two then commented favorably upon
the girl whose nails were pink, whose ears and neck were clean, her
teeth white and dazzling, and her hair well brushed. I might say, in
passing, that this hair-brushing time at night may be well employed in
reviewing the experiences of the day in order to learn the lessons
they teach, and thereby to avoid to-morrow the mistakes of to-day.
These same young men also said that the complexions of some girls
suggested the idea of too little fresh air and too much candy. This,
they agreed, it was impossible to hide with powder. So we see that the
care of the skin is quite important if one would have the respect and
the admiration of her associates.
The skin is a very beautiful, complex and delicate covering of the
body. It consists of six layers, and contains arteries, capillaries,
lymphatics, nerves, sweat glands, sebaceous glands, pigment, etc. So
you see that the care of the skin involves much. One writer has said,
"At the skin man ends and the outlying universe begins."
The skin, filled with nerves, is continually reporting to the brain
concerning what is the condition of all parts of the body. The
condition of the skin reflects the condition of the digestive organs.
Many girls are trying to cure pimples on the face by the use of salves
and lotions, when in all probability all that they would need to do to
gain a good complexion is to pay attention to diet, to quit eating
between meals, and not to eat so much pastry, pickles or sweetmeats.
Our athletes and pugilists are learning that they must take care of
the skin if they would keep in good condition, and they are what in
horses would be called well groomed. The skin is rubbed, cared for,
kept active, because it is understood that it is an organ of
sensation, of secretion, of excretion, of absorption, and of
respiration. More solid matter is thrown out from the skin than from
the lungs, in the proportion of eleven to seven. It is even more than
the excretion from the bowels.
The skin is an organ of breathing. This seems strange to us, but it
really does take up oxygen and give out carbonic acid, so upon the
condition of the skin will depend very largely the condition of the
general health. We can detect a constipated condition of the bowels
through the color and odor of the skin.
Many girls feel that it is more delicate to neglect the care of the
bowels than to attend to a daily evacuation, but if they would
remember that it is just as indelicate to carry effete or dead matter
about in the bowels as it would be to carry it upon the person in any
other way, they would realize that it is only politeness and
refinement to see that this part of their bodily housekeeping is duly
attended to. If the bowels do not do their work the skin will be
obliged to take extra labor upon itself; so, as we have said, by the
odor of the skin we can detect the fact that the skin is doing the
work that should be done by the bowels. When a person is sick the
condition of the internal organs is shown in the complexion, and
nothing more clearly indicates health than the condition of the skin.
If this is so important, how shall we care for the skin? First, by
bathing. The tin bath-tub of the Englishman accompanies him in all his
travels, and has penetrated even to the jungles of Africa. Bathing
appliances are marks of civilization, and the bath-room is becoming a
necessity. Where the bath-room does not exist it is easy to bathe
thoroughly and completely. A wash-basin of water, with a sponge and
towel, furnish all that is absolutely necessary. A most convenient
bath is the portable thermal bath, an arrangement of rubber cloth that
can be opened out to form a square enclosure in which the person sits,
with the head in the free outside air, the body enveloped in steam
generated by an alcohol lamp. This, followed by a quick sponge-bath of
cool water, is a most efficient way of cleansing the skin; and this
bath may be used in any room, no matter how beautifully furnished,
without soiling the carpet or furniture in the least.
One great secret of healthful bathing is, when warm or hot water is
used, to follow it by an immediate application of cold water, which
leaves the skin in a tonic condition. In preparation for going out in
cold weather, nothing is so efficient a protection from the cold as a
foot-bath. Soak the feet for a few minutes in water as warm as is
comfortable, then plunge them into cold water and remove immediately,
or throw cold water over them, wipe them thoroughly dry, rub them with
a little olive oil, draw on a pair of clean, warm hose, and the feet
are not only warmed, but are protected against cold and will stay
warm. These precautions will prevent one taking cold from the
foot-bath. Care of the feet is a great necessity not only for health,
for equalizing the circulation, but for the prevention of unpleasant
odors.
As to time of bathing, I suppose that the body is at its highest point
of vital power at about ten o'clock in the morning, but this is, for
most people, the most inconvenient time for a bath. The circumstances
of the individual are to be consulted, and also the effect of bathing.
There are those who are made nervous by taking a bath, consequently
they will not be benefited by taking one just before going to bed. In
other cases the bath conduces to slumber. This depends very largely
upon the amount of blood in the brain. A person with an anæmic brain
will not be benefited by the bath at bedtime, but the person whose
brain is overcharged with blood will find the evening bath quieting.
I would not advise everybody to take a daily bath. There are those who
are benefited by it; there are others who might be injured by it. It
is best to study personal peculiarities and to watch the effect of the
bath. If, within a few hours, or the next day, there is great
exhaustion, one might naturally conclude that the bath was not
altogether beneficial. There are those in such delicate health that a
cold bath at any time does not seem desirable; but constant attention
will secure perfect cleanliness, as the arms and chest can be bathed
one day, the abdomen and back another, the lower extremities still
another day, and so the whole body be compassed twice or more in the
space of a week.
In regard to the use of soap for bathing purposes, the finest, purest
soaps should be used, and these alone. It is generally supposed that
pure, white castile soap is the best. Various soaps are widely
advertised, while some that claim to be of the very best are not
always up to the requisite standard. Yet one can tell by a little
experience what soap is of pure quality, and such soap can be applied
even to the face without injury.
In washing the face the hand is probably the best instrument, with the
thumb under the chin, the fingers turned toward the upper part of the
face. The manipulation should be against the direction of forming
wrinkles, wherever there is a tendency for wrinkles to appear. They
can be held in check by the judicious manipulation of the fingers in
the opposite direction. Wrinkles are created by obliterating the
capillary circulation of the skin. The manipulation increases the
circulation, and so tends to overcome wrinkles. The expression of the
face may form wrinkles. I saw a girl the other day on a street-car who
continually held her eyebrows elevated, forming longitudinal lines
across her forehead, which had become as fixed in her youthful face as
if she had been seventy years of age. This was a lack of care in the
governing of the expression of the face, and also a lack in keeping up
the capillary circulation.
The care of the hands may be considered also while discussing the
question of bathing. The hands should be kept clean, the finger-nails
particularly cared for, as much of the beauty of the hands depends
upon the delicate appearance of the finger-nails. The manicure sets,
which are at the disposal of almost every young woman of the present
day, are a very great addition to toilet appurtenances. The curved
scissors, the polisher, the blunt ivory instrument for pushing back
the fold of skin from the root of the nail, all of these used but a
few moments in the day will conduce to great beauty in the hands, even
for those who are doing housework.
PART II.
NEED OF SPECIAL KNOWLEDGE; SOME FORMS OF AVOIDABLE DISEASE, THEIR
REMEDY AND PREVENTION.