I have already spoken of the importance of letter writing. The keeping

of a journal is scarcely less so, provided it be done in a proper

manner. I have seen journals, however, which, aside from the fact that

they improve the _handwriting_, and encourage _method_, could have been

of very little use. A young agriculturist kept a journal for many

years, of which the following is a specimen.

1813.

July 2. Began our haying. Mowed in the forenoon, and raked in the

afternoon. Weather good.

3. Continued haying. Mowed. Got in one load. Cloudy.

4. Independence. Went, in the afternoon, to ----.

5. Stormy. Did nothing out of doors.

This method of keeping a journal was continued for many years; and only

discontinued, because it was found useless. A better and more useful

sort of journal for these four days, would have read something like the

following.

1813.

July 2. Our haying season commenced. How fond I am of this

employment! How useful an article hay is, too, especially in this

climate, during our long and cold winters! We have fine weather to

begin with, and I hope it will continue.

I think a very great improvement might be made in our rakes. Why

need they be so heavy for light raking? We could take up the

heavier ones when it became necessary.

July 3. To-day I have worked rather too hard in order to get in

some of our hay, for there is a prospect of rain. I am not quite

sure, however, but I hurt myself more by drinking too much cold

water than by over-working. Will try to do better to-morrow.

4. Have heard a few cannon fired, and a spouting oration delivered,

and seen a few toasts drank; and what does it all amount to? Is

this way of keeping the day of independence really useful? I doubt

it. Who knows but the value of the wine which has been drank,

expended among the poor, would have done more towards _real_

independence, than all this parade?

5. Rainy. Would it not have been better had I staid at home

yesterday, while the weather was fair, and gone on with haying?

Several acres of father's grass want cutting very much. I am more

and more sick of going to independence. If I live till another

year, I hope I shall learn to 'make hay while the sun shines.'

I selected a common agricultural employment to illustrate my subject,

first, because I suppose a considerable proportion of my readers are

farmers, and secondly, because it is an employment which is generally

supposed to furnish little or nothing worth recording. The latter,

however, is a great mistake. Besides writing down the real incidents

that occur, many of which would be interesting, and some of them highly

important facts, the _thoughts_, which the circumstances and incidents

of an agricultural life are calculated to elicit, are innumerable. And

these should always be put down. They are to the mere detail of facts

and occurrences, what leaves and fruit are to the dry trunk and naked

limbs of a tree. The above specimen is very dry indeed, being intended

only as a hint. Pages, instead of a few lines, might sometimes be

written, when our leisure permitted, and thoughts flowed freely.

One useful method of improving the mind, and preparing ourselves for

usefulness, would be, to carry a small blank book and pencil in our

pockets, and when any interesting fact occurred, embrace the first

spare moment to put it down, say on the right hand page; and either

then, or at some future time, place on the left hand page, our own

reflections about it. Some of the most useful men in the world owe much

of their usefulness to a plan like this, promptly and perseveringly

followed. Quotations from books or papers might also be preserved in

the same manner.[10]

Perhaps it may be thought, at first, that this advice is not in keeping

with the caution formerly given, not to read as we travel about; but if

you reflect, you will find it otherwise. Reading as we travel, and at

meals, and the recording of facts and thoughts which occur, are things

as different as can well be conceived. The latter creates and

encourages a demand for close observation, the former discourages and

even suppresses it.

11. PRESERVATION OF BOOKS AND PAPERS.

Let books be covered as soon as bought. Never use them without clean

hands. They show the dirt with extreme readiness, and it is not easily

removed. I have seen books in which might be traced the careless thumbs

and fingers of the last reader, for half a dozen or a dozen pages in

succession.

I have known a gentleman--quite a literary man, too--who, having been

careful of his books in his earlier years, and having recently found

them occasionally soiled, charged the fault on those who occasionally

visited his library. At last he discovered that the coal dust (for he

kept a coal fire) settled on his hands, and was rubbed off upon his

book leaves by the slight friction of his fingers upon the leaves in

reading.

Never wet your finger or thumb in order to turn over leaves. Many

respectable people are addicted to this habit, but it is a vulgar one.

Besides, it is entirely useless. The same remarks might be applied to

the habit of suffering the corners of the leaves to turn up, in 'dog's

ears.' Keep every leaf smooth, if you can. Never hold a book very near

the fire, nor leave it in the hot sun. It injures its cover materially,

and not a few books are in one or both of these ways entirely ruined.

It is a bad practice to spread out a book with the back upwards. It

loosens the leaves, and also exposes it in other respects. You will

rarely find a place to lay it down which is _entirely_ clean, and the

least dust on the leaves, is readily observed.

The plan of turning down a leaf to enable us to remember the place, I

never liked. It indulges the memory in laziness. For myself, if I take

much interest in a book, I can remember where I left off and turn at

once to the place without a mark. If a mark must be used at all,

however, a slip of paper, or a piece of tape or ribbon is the best.

When you have done using a book for the time, have a place for it, and

put it in its place. How much time and patience might be saved if this

rule were universally followed! Many find it the easiest thing in the

world to have a place for every book in their library, and to keep it

in its place. They can put their hands upon it in the dark, almost as

well as in the light.

Never allow yourselves to use books for any other purpose but reading.

I have seen people recline after dinner and at other times, with books

under their heads for a pillow. Others will use them to cover a

tumbler, bowl, or pitcher. Others again will raise the window, and set

them under the sash to support it; and next, perhaps, the book is wet

by a sudden shower of rain, or knocked out of the window, soiled or

otherwise injured, or lost. I have seen people use large books, such as

the family-bible, or encyclopedia, to raise a seat, especially for a

child at table.

[10] Some persons always read with a pen or pencil in hand, and

when a thought occurs, note it in a little book, kept for the

purpose.

CHAPTER V.

Social and Moral Improvement.

SECTION I. _Of Female Society, in general._

No young man is fully aware how much he is indebted to female influence

in forming his character. Happy for him if his mother and sisters were

his principal companions in infancy. I do not mean to exclude the

society of the father, of course; but the father's avocations usually

call him away from home, or at least from the immediate presence of his

children, for a very considerable proportion of his time.

It would be easy to show, without the possibility of mistake, that it

is those young men who are shut out either by accident or design, from

female society, that most despise it. And on this account, I cannot but

regret the supposed necessity which prevails of having separate schools

for the two sexes; unless it were _professional_ ones--I mean for the

study of law, medicine, &c. There is yet too much practical

Mohammedanism and Paganism in our manner of educating the young.

If we examine the character and conduct of woman as it now is, and as

history shows it to have been in other periods of the world, we shall

see that much of the good and evil which has fallen upon mankind has

been through her influence. We may see that man has often been

influenced _directly_ by the soft warning words, or the still more

powerful weapons--tears--of woman, to do that to which whole legions of

soldiers never could have driven him.

Now the same influence which is exerted by mothers and wives is also

exerted, in a smaller degree, by sisters; and indeed by the female sex

generally. When, therefore, I find a young man professing a disregard

for their society, or frequenting only the worst part of it, I always

expect to find in him a soul which would not hesitate long, in the day

of temptation, to stoop to vicious if not base actions. Who would

despise the fountain at which he is refreshed daily? Above all, who

would willingly contaminate it? But how much better than this is it to

show by our language, as well as deeds, that we hold this portion of

the world in disdain; and only meet with them, if we meet them at all,

to comply with custom, or for purposes still more unworthy; instead of

seeking their society as a means of elevating and ennobling the

character?

When, therefore, a young man begins to affect the _wit_, and to utter

sarcasms against the female character, it may be set down as a mark,

either of a weak head, or a base heart; for it cannot be good sense or

gratitude, or justice, or honorable feeling of any kind. There are

indeed nations, it is said, where a boy, as soon as he puts off the

dress of a child, beats his mother, to show his manhood. These people

live in the interior of Africa, and there let them remain. Let us be

careful that we do not degrade the sex, in the same manner, by

disrespectful language, or actions, or _thoughts_. We should '_think_

no evil,' on this subject; for let it never be forgotten, that our own

happiness and elevation of character must ever be in exact proportion

to that of females. Degrade _them_, and we degrade ourselves; neglect

to raise their moral and intellectual condition as much as possible,

and you neglect the readiest and most certain means of promoting, in

the end, your own comfort and happiness.

If any of your elder associates defame the sex, you can hardly be

mistaken when you suspect them of having vitiated their taste for what

is excellent in human character by improper intimacies, or still more

abominable vices. The man who says he has never found a virtuous female

character, you may rely upon it, cannot himself be virtuous.

In civilized society much of our time must _necessarily_ be spent among

females. These associations will have influence upon us. Either they

are perpetually improving our character, or, on the other hand, by

increasing our disregard or disgust, debasing it. Is it not wisdom,

then, to make what we can of the advantages and opportunities which

their society affords us?

The very presence of a respectable female will often restrain those

from evil whose hearts are full of it. It is not easy to talk or to

look obscenely, or even to behave with rudeness and ill manners under

such restraint. Who has not seen the jarring and discordant tones of a

company of rude men and boys hushed at once by the sudden arrival of a

lady of dignified manners and appearance?

The frequent, the habitual society of one whom a youth respects, must

have a happy tendency to make him love honorable conduct; and restrain

his less honorable feelings. Frequent restraint tends to give the

actual mastery; therefore every approach towards this must be of great

value. There is a delicacy, too, in female society, which serves well

to check the boisterous, to tame the brutal, and to embolden the timid.

Whatever be the innate character of a youth, it may be polished, and

exalted, by their approbation. He must be unusually hardened that can

come from some shameful excess, or in a state of inebriety, into the

company of the ladies.

Sometimes a diffident youth has been taken under the _protection_, if

it may be so called, of a considerate and respectable woman. A woman of

proper dignity of manners and character, especially with a few years'

advantage, can do this without the least injury to herself, and without

stepping a hair's breadth beyond the bounds which should surround her

sex. Happy is the young man who enjoys a fostering care so important;

he may learn the value of the sex; learn to discriminate among them, to

esteem many of them, and prize their approbation; and in time, deserve

it. It is obvious that the favor of silly, flirting girls, (and there

are some such) is not what I am here recommending.

Where the character of such society is pure, where good sense,

cultivation, intellect, modesty, and superior age, distinguish the

parties, it is no small honor to a young man to enjoy it. Should he be

conscious that epithets of a different and of a contrary quality belong

to them, it is no honor to him to be their favorite. He must be _like_

them, in some degree, or they would not approve him.

SECTION II. _Advice and Friendship of Mothers._

When you seek female society for the sake of improvement, it is proper

you should begin where nature begun with you. You have already been

encouraged to respect your mother; I go a step farther; and say, Make

her your friend. Unless your own misconduct has already been very

great, she will not be so far estranged from you, as not to rejoice at

the opportunity of bestowing that attention to you which the warmest

wishes for your welfare would dictate. If your errors _have_, on the

contrary, created a wide distance between you, endeavor to restore the

connection as soon as possible. I do not undervalue a father's counsel

and guidance; yet however excellent his judgment may be, your mother's

opinion is not only a help to your own; but as a _woman's_, it has its

peculiar character, and may have its appropriate value. _Women_

sometimes see at a glance, what a _man_ must go round through a train

of argument to discover. Their _tact_ is delicate, and therefore

quicker in operation. Sometimes, it is true, their judgment will not

only be prompt, but premature. Your _own_ judgment must assist you

here. Do not, however, proudly despise your mother's;--but examine it.

It will generally well repay the trouble; and the habit of consulting

her will increase habits of consideration, and self command; and

promote propriety of conduct.

If a mother be a woman of sense, why should you not profit by her long

exercised intelligence? Nay, should she even be deficient in

cultivation, or in native talent, yet her experience is something, and

her love for you will, in part, make up for such deficiency. It cannot

be worthiness to despise, or wisdom to neglect your mother's opinion.

SECTION III. _Society of Sisters._

Have you a sister?--Have you several of them? Then you are favorably

situated; especially if one of them is older than yourself. She has

done playing with dolls, and you with bats and balls. She is more

womanly; her carriage becomes dignified. Do not oblige her, by your

boyish behavior, to keep you at a distance. Try to deserve the

character of her friend. She will sometimes look to you for little

services, which require strength and agility; let her look up to you

for judgment, steadiness, and counsel too. You may be mutually

beneficial. Your affection, and your intertwining interest in each

other's welfare, will hereby be much increased.

A sister usually present, is that sort of second conscience, which,

like the fairy ring, in an old story, pinches the wearer whenever he is

doing any thing amiss. Without occasioning so much awe as a mother, or

so much reserve as a stranger, her sex, her affection, and the

familiarity between you will form a compound of no small value in

itself, and of no small influence, if you duly regard it, upon your

growing character. Never for one moment suppose _that_ a good joke at

which a sister blushes, or turns pale, or even looks anxious. If you

should not at first perceive what there is in it which is amiss, it

will be well worth your while to examine all over again. Perhaps a

single glance of her eye will explain your inconsiderateness; and as

you value consistency and propriety of conduct, let it put you on your

guard.

There is a sort of attention due to the sex which is best attained by

practising at home. Your mother may sometimes require this attention,

your sisters still oftener. Do not require calling, or teasing, or even

persuading to go abroad with them when their safety, their comfort, or

their respectability require it. It is their due; and stupid or unkind

is he who does not esteem it so. In performing this service, you are

only paying a respect to yourself. Your sister could, indeed, come home

alone, but it would be a sad reflection on you were she obliged to do

so. Accustom yourself, then, to wait upon her; it will teach you to

wait upon others by and by; and in the meantime, it will give a

graceful polish to your character.

It will be well for you, if your sisters have young friends whose

acquaintance with them may bring you sometimes into their society. The

familiarity allowable with your sisters, though it may well prepare you

to show suitable attention to other ladies, yet has its disadvantages.

You need sometimes to have those present who may keep you still more

upon your guard; and render your manners and attention to them still

more respectful.

SECTION IV. _General Remarks and Advice._

Never seek, then, to avoid respectable female society. Total privation

has its dangers, as well as too great intimacy. One of the bad results

of such a privation, is, that you run the risk of becoming attached to

unworthy objects because they first fall in your way. Human nature is

ever in danger of perversion. Those passions which God has given you

for the wisest and noblest purposes may goad you onward, and, if they

do not prove the occasion of your destruction in one way, they may in

another. If you should be preserved in solitude, you will not be quite

safe abroad. Having but a very imperfect conception of the different

shades of character among the sex, you will be ready to suppose all are

excellent who appear fair and all good who appear gentle.

I have alluded to the dangers of too great intimacy. Nothing here

advanced is intended to make you a mere trifler, or to sink the dignity

of your own sex. Although you are to respect females because of their

sex, yet there are some who bestow upon them a species of attention

extremely injurious to themselves, and unpleasant and degrading to all

sensible ladies.

There is still another evil sometimes resulting from too great

intimacy. It is that you lead the other party to mistake your object.

This mistake is easily made. It is not necessary, to this end, that you

should make any professions of attachment, in word or deed. Looks, nay

even something less than this, though it may be difficult to define it,

may indicate that sort of preference for the society of a lady, that

has sometimes awakened an attachment in her which you never suspected

or intended. Or what is a far less evil, since it falls chiefly on

yourself, it may lead her and others to ridicule you for what they

suppose to be the result, on your part, of intention.

Let me caution you, then, if you would obey the golden rule of doing to

others as you would wish others should do to you, in the same

circumstances, and if you value, besides this, your own peace, to

beware of injuring those whom you highly esteem, by leading them by

words, looks, or actions, to that misapprehension of your meaning which

may be the means of planting thorns in their bosoms, if not in your

own.

There is another error to which I wish to call your attention, in this

place, although it might more properly be placed under the head,

_Seduction_. I allude to the error of too great familiarity with

others, after your heart is already pledged to a particular favorite.

Here, more, if possible, than in the former case, do you need to set a

guard over all your ways, words, and actions; and to resolve, in the

strength, and with the aid of Divine grace, that you will never deviate

from that rule of conduct toward others,--which Divine Goodness has

given, as the grand text to the book of human duty.

The general idea presented in the foregoing sections, of what a woman

ought to be, is sufficient to guide you, with a little care in the

application. Such as are forward, soon become tedious. Their character

is what no man of taste will bear. Some are even anglers, aiming to

catch gudgeons by every look; placing themselves in attitudes to allure

the vagrant eye. Against such it is quite unnecessary that I should

warn you; they usually give you sufficient notice themselves. The

trifler can scarcely amuse you for an evening. The company of a lady

who has nothing to say but what is commonplace, whose inactive mind

never for once stumbles upon an idea of its own, must be dull, as a

matter of course. You can learn nothing from her, unless it be the

folly of a vacant mind. Come away, lest you catch the same disorder.

The artful and manoeuvring, on the contrary, will, at a glance,

penetrate your inmost mind, and become any thing which they perceive

will be agreeable to you.

Should your lot be cast where you can enjoy the society of a few

intelligent, agreeable, and respectable females, remember to prize the

acquisition. If you do not derive immense advantage from it, the fault

must be your own. If, in addition to the foregoing qualifications,

these female friends happen to have had a judicious and useful, rather

than a merely polite education, your advantages are doubly valuable.

The genial influence of such companions must unavoidably be on the side

of goodness and propriety. Loveliness of mind will impart that

agreeableness of person which recommends to the heart every sentiment,

gives weight to every argument, justifies every opinion, and soothes to

recollection and recovery those who, were they reproved by any other

voice, might have risen to resistance, or sunk into despair. The only

necessary caution in the case is, 'Beware of _idolatry_.' Keep yourself

clear from fascination, and call in the aid of your severest judgment

to keep your mind true to yourself, and to principle.

SECTION V. _Lyceums and other Social Meetings._

The course of my remarks has given occasion, in several instances, to

speak of the importance of lyceums as a means of mental and social

improvement. It will not be necessary therefore, in this place, to

dwell, at _length_, on their importance. My principal object will be to

call your attention to the subject in general, and urge it upon your

consideration. I hope no young person who reads these pages, will

neglect to avail himself of the advantages which a good lyceum affords;

or if there are none of that character within his reach, let him make

unremitting efforts till one exists.

Although these institutions are yet in their infancy, and could hardly

have been expected to accomplish more within the same period than they

have, it is hoped they will not hereafter confine their inquiries so

exclusively to matters of mere intellect, as has often been done. There

are other subjects nearer home, if I may so say, than these. How

strangely do mankind, generally, stretch their thoughts and inquiries

abroad to the concerns of other individuals, states and nations, and

forget themselves, and the objects and beings near by them, and their

mutual relations, connections, and dependencies!

Lyceums, when they shall have obtained a firmer footing among us, may

become a most valuable means of enlightening the mass of the community,

in regard to the structure and laws of the human body, and its relation

to surrounding objects; of discussing the philosophy of dress, and its

different materials for different seasons; of food, and drink, and

sleep and exercise; of dwellings and other buildings; of amusements and

employments;--in short, of the ten thousand _little things_, as many

call them, which go to make up human life, with its enjoyments or

miseries. These things have been surprisingly overlooked by most men,

for the sake of attending to others, whose bearing on human happiness,

if not often questionable, is at least more remote.

In some of our larger cities there are respectable courses of useful

lectures established during the months of winter, and sometimes

throughout the year. Added to this are reading-rooms, and various sorts

of libraries, which are accessible for a small sum, and sometimes for

almost nothing. There have been three valuable courses of Franklin

Lectures delivered in Boston, during the three last winters, of twenty

lectures each, for only fifty cents a course. In most large towns,

benevolent and spirited individuals might establish something of the

same kind, at least every winter.

SECTION VI. _Moral Instruction._

It was not my intention, at first, to say a single word, directly, on

the subject of religion, but I should leave this chapter very

incomplete indeed, as well as do violence to my own feelings, should I

say nothing at all of Bible classes, and other means of religious

instruction, with which the age, and especially this part of the

country abounds, not only on Sundays, but during the long evenings of

leisure which, for a part of the year, many young men enjoy.

Viewed merely as a means of improving the _mind_, and acquiring much

authentic historical information to be found nowhere else, the study of

the Bible is a most valuable exercise, and ought to be encouraged. To

adults who labor, a walk to church, and prompt attention to the Bible

lesson, is happily adapted to the health of the body, no less than to

intellectual improvement; and whatever objections might be urged

against subjecting infants and young children who attend other schools

during the week, to the present routine of Sabbath instruction, I am

quite sure that the class of young persons for whom I am writing, would

derive the most lasting benefit from studying the Bible.

I have made these remarks on the presumption that they were to derive

no _moral_ improvement from Bible instruction. However, I see not how

these schools can be long attended by ingenuous minds without inspiring

a _respect_, at the least, for that book which is superior to all other

books, and for that religion which it inculcates; which is above all

sect, and beyond all price.

SECTION VII. _Of Female Society in reference to Marriage._

It is now time to consider the subject of female society in reference

to matrimony. I shall find it necessary, however, to make a division of

my subject, reserving a more _complete_ view of female qualifications

for a succeeding chapter.

Whatever advice may be given to the contrary by friends or foes, it is

my opinion that you ought to keep matrimony steadily in view. For this

end, were it for no other, you ought to mingle much in society. Never

consider yourself complete without this other half of yourself. It is

too much the fashion among young men at the present day to make up

their minds to dispense with marriage;--an unnatural, and therefore an

unwise plan. Much of our character, and most of our comfort and

happiness depend upon it. Many have found this out too late; that is,

after age and fixed habits had partly disqualified them for this

important duty.

All that has been hitherto said of female influence bears upon this

point. According to the character of the person you select, in a

considerable degree, will be your own. Should a mere face fascinate you

to a _doll_, you will not need much mental energy to please her; and

the necessity of exertion on this account being small, your own self

will sink, or at least not rise, as it otherwise might do.

But were I personally acquainted with you, and should I perceive an

_honorable_ attachment taking possession of your heart, I should regard

it as a happy circumstance. Life then has an object. The only thing to

be observed is that it be managed with prudence, honor, and good sense.

The case of John Newton is precisely in point. In very early life this

man formed a strong attachment to a lady, under circumstances which did

not permit him to make it known; which was probably well for both

parties. It did not diminish _her_ happiness, so long as she remained

in ignorance on the subject; and in scenes of sorrow, suffering, and

temptation, the hope of one day obtaining her soothed him, and kept him

from performing many dishonorable actions. 'The bare possibility,' he

says, 'of seeing her again, was the only obvious means of restraining

me from the most horrid designs, against myself and others.'

The wish to marry, if _prudently_ indulged, will lead to honest and

persevering exertions to obtain a reasonable income--one which will be

satisfactory to the object of your hopes, as well as to her friends. He

who is determined on living a single life, very naturally contracts his

endeavors to his own narrow personal wants, or else squanders freely,

in the belief that he can always procure enough to support himself.

Indeed it cannot have escaped even the careless observer that in

proportion as an individual relinquishes the idea of matrimony, just in

the same proportion do his mind and feelings contract. On the contrary,

that hope which aims at a beloved partner--a family--a fireside,--will

lead its possessor to activity in all his conduct. It will elicit his

talents, and urge them to their full energy, and probably call in the

aid of economy; a quality so indispensable to every condition of life.

The single consideration, 'What would she think were she now to see

me?' called up by the obtrusion of a favorite image,--how often has it

stimulated a noble mind and heart to deeds which otherwise had never

been performed!

I repeat it, I am aware that this advice is liable to abuse. But what

shall be done? Images of some sort will haunt the mind more or

less--female influence in some shape or other will operate. Is it not

better to give the imagination a virtuous direction than to leave it to

range without control, and without _end_?

I repeat it, nothing is better calculated to preserve a young man from

the contamination of low pleasures and pursuits, than frequent

intercourse with the more refined and virtuous of the other sex.

Besides, without such society his manners can never acquire the true

polish of a gentleman,--general character, dignity, and

refinement;--nor his mind and heart the truest and noblest sentiments

of a man. Make it an object then, I again say, to spend some portion of

every week of your life in the company of intelligent and virtuous

ladies. At all events, flee solitude, and especially the exclusive

society of your own sex. The doctrines even of Zimmerman, the great

apostle of solitude, would put to shame many young men, who seldom or

never mix in female society.

If you should be so unfortunate as not to have among your acquaintance

any ladies whose society would, in these points of view, be profitable

to you, do not be in haste to mix with the ignorant and vulgar; but

wait patiently till your own industry and good conduct shall give you

admission to better circles; and in the meantime cultivate your mind by

reading and thinking, so that when you actually gain admission to good

society, you may know how to prize and enjoy it. Remember, too, that

you are not to be so selfish as to think nothing of contributing to the

happiness of others. It is blessed to _give_ as well as to _receive_.

When you are in the company of ladies, beware of silliness. It is true

that they will sooner forgive foolishness than ill manners, but you

will, of course, avoid both. I know one young gentleman of great

promise, who adopted the opinion that in order to qualify himself for

female society, he had only to become as foolish as possible, while in

their presence. That young man soon lost the favor of all whose

friendship might have operated as a restraint; but unwilling to

associate with the despicable, and unable to live in absolute solitude,

he chose the bottle for his companion; and made himself, and the few

friends he had, miserable.

Nothing, unless it be the coarsest flattery, will give more offence, in

the end, than to treat ladies as mere playthings or children. On the

other hand, do not become pedantic, and lecture them on difficult

subjects. They readily see through all this. Neither is it good manners

or policy to talk much of yourself. They can penetrate this also; and

they despise the vanity which produces it. In detecting deception, they

are often much quicker than we apprehend.

A young gentleman, in one of the New England States, who had assumed

the chair of the pedagogue, paid his addresses to the beautiful and

sensible daughter of a respectable farmer. One day, as she was present

in his school, he read to her a hymn, which he said was from his own

pen. Now it was obvious to this lady, and even to some of the pupils,

that the hymn was none other than that usually known by the name of the

'Harvest Hymn,' modified by the change of a few words only. How much

effect this circumstance might have had I cannot say with certainty;

but I know it disgusted _one_, at least, of the pupils; and I know,

too, that his addresses to the lady were soon afterwards discontinued.

A young man who would profit from the society of young ladies, or

indeed from any society, must preserve a modest and respectful spirit;

must seek to conciliate their good will by quiet and unostentatious

attentions, and discover more willingness to avail himself of their

stock of information, than to display his own knowledge or abilities.

He should observe, and learn to admire, that purity and ignorance of

evil, which is the characteristic of well-educated young ladies, and

which, while we are near them, raises us above those sordid and sensual

considerations which hold such sway over _men_, in their intercourse

with each other. He should treat them as spirits of a purer sphere, and

try to be as innocent, if not as ignorant of evil as they are;

remembering that there is no better way of raising himself in the scale

of intellectual and moral being. But to whatever degree of intimacy he

may arrive, he should never forget those little acts of courtesy and

kindness, as well as that respect, and self-denial, which lend a charm

to every kind of polite intercourse, and especially to that of which I

am now speaking.

Whenever an opportunity occurs, however, it is the duty of a young man

to introduce topics of conversation which are decidedly favorable to

mental and moral improvement. Should he happen to be attending to the

same study, or reading the same book with a female acquaintance, an

excellent opportunity will be afforded for putting this rule in

practice.

CHAPTER VI.

Marriage.

SECTION I. _Why Matrimony is a Duty._

Matrimony is a subject of high importance and interest. It is

_important_, because it was among the earliest institutions of the

great Creator; because it has always existed in some form or other, and

must continue to exist, or society cannot be sustained; and because in

proportion as the ends of the Creator are answered by its

establishment, just in the same proportion does the happiness of

society rise or fall. It points out the condition of society in this

respect as accurately as a thermometer shows the temperature of the

surrounding atmosphere. I might even go farther, and say, that in

proportion as the original and real ends of marriage are answered, do

the interests of religion also rise or sink.[11]

This institution is peculiarly interesting from the fact that it

involves so many items of human happiness. We often speak of the value

of _friendship_. What friendship like that which results from a happy

union of the sexes? We talk of _education_. What school so favorable to

improvement as the domestic circle may be rendered? Whether we consider

education in a physical, mental or moral point of view, all its plans

are imperfect without this. No man or woman is, as a general rule,

fully prepared for the humblest sphere of action on earth, without the

advantages which are peculiar to this institution. Nor has any man done

his whole duty to God, who has left this subject out of consideration.

It has sometimes been said, and with much truth, that 'no unmarried

person was ever thoroughly and completely educated.' It appears to me

that were we to consider the intellectual and physical departments of

education, merely, this would be true; but how much more so when we

take in morals? Parents,--teachers,--what are they? Their labors are

indeed of infinite value, in themselves considered; but it is only in a

state of matrimony, it is only when we are called to the discharge of

those multiplied duties which are involved in the endearing relations

of husband, wife, parent and guardian, that our characters are fully

tested and established. Late in life as these relations commence, the

circumstances which they involve are so peculiar that they modify the

character of the parties much more than has usually been considered.

I am fond, therefore, of contemplating the married state as a

school;--not merely for a short term, but for _life_;--not one whose

teachers are liable to be changed once or twice a year to the great

disadvantage of all who are concerned, but whose instructors are as

permanent as the school itself. It is true, that like other schools, it

may result in the formation of bad character; but in proportion to its

power to accomplish either good or bad results, will be its value, if

wisely improved.

It is not to be denied that this view of the subject is in favor of

_early_ marriage. And I can truly say, indeed, that every thing

considered, early marriage does appear to me highly desirable. And it

would require stronger arguments than any which I have yet seen

adduced, even by some of our political economists, to make me surrender

this opinion.

The only serious objection, of a popular kind, to early marriage,

arises from the difficulty of supporting a family. But the parties

themselves must be supported at all events, whether married or single.

'But the consequences'--And what are the consequences? An _earlier_

family, indeed; but not of necessity a larger. I believe that facts

will bear me out in stating that the sum total of the progeny of every

thousand families who commence at from twenty-five to thirty, is as

great as that of one thousand who begin at from twenty to twenty-five.

I have even seen pretty large families where the eldest was thirty-five

years younger than both the parents; and one or two instances of

numerous families where marriage did not take place till the age of

forty. Physiologists have long observed this singular fact, and it has

sometimes been explained by saying, if indeed it be an explanation,

that Nature, in these cases, unwilling to be cheated out of her rights,

endeavors to make up in energy and activity what has been lost in time.

The question, however, will recur, whether families, though equally

large, cannot be better maintained when marriage is deferred to a later

period. And it certainly is a question of immense importance; For

nothing is more painful than to see large families, whose parents,

whether young or more advanced, have not the means of educating them

properly. It is also not a little painful to find instances of poverty

so extreme that there is absolute suffering, for want of food and

clothing.

But the question must be determined by facts. And it would be greatly

aiding the cause of humanity if extensive comparisons were made between

the pecuniary condition of those who marry early and those who defer

the subject to a later period. But from my own limited observation I am

fully of opinion that the result of the comparison would be greatly in

favor of early marriages. Should this prove to be true, the position

which I have assumed is, I think, established; for it appears to me

that no other argument for delay has any claim to our notice.

On the other hand, the following, among other evils, are the results of

deferring marriage.

1. The temper and habits of the parties become stiff and unyielding

when advanced in life, and they learn to adapt themselves to each other

with difficulty. In the view which I have taken above they become

miserable as teachers, and still more miserable as scholars.

2. Youth are thus exposed to the danger of forming habits of criminal

indulgence, as fatal to the health and the character, as they are

ruinous to the soul.

3. Or if they proceed not so far, they at least acquire the habit of

spending time in vain or pernicious amusements. All mankind must and

will seek for gratifications of some sort or other. And aside from

religious principle, there is no certain security against those

amusements and indulgences which are pernicious and destructive, but

early and virtuous attachments, and the pleasures afforded by domestic

life. He can never want for amusement or rational gratification who is

surrounded by a rising family for whom he has a genuine affection.

4. Long continued celibacy _contracts_ the mind, if it does not

enfeeble it. For one openhearted liberal old bachelor, you will find

ten who are parsimonious, avaricious, cold-hearted, and too often

destitute of those sympathies for their fellow beings which the married

life has a tendency to elicit and perpetuate.[12]

5. Franklin says that late marriages are attended with another

inconvenience, viz.; that the chance of living to see our children

educated, is greatly diminished.

6. But I go much farther than I have hitherto done, and insist that

other things being equal, the young married man has the advantage in a

_pecuniary_ point of view. This is a natural result from the fact that

he is compelled to acquire habits of industry, frugality, and economy;

and is under less temptation to waste his time in trifling or

pernicious amusements. But I may appeal to facts, even here. Look

around you in the world, and see if out of a given number of single

persons, say one thousand, of the age of thirty-five, there be not a

greater number in poverty, than of the same number who settled in life

at twenty.

Perhaps I ought barely to notice another objection to these views. It

is said that neither the mind nor the body come to full maturity so

early as we are apt to suppose. But is complete maturity of body or

mind indispensable? I am not advocating the practice of marrying in

childhood. It takes sometime for the affections toward an individual to

ripen and become settled. This is a matter involving too high

responsibilities to justify haste. The consequences, speaking

generally, are not confined to this life; they extend to eternity.

[11] Some of the topics of this section have been anticipated, in

part, in a previous chapter; but their importance entitles them

to a farther consideration.

[12] I know this principle is sometimes disputed. A late English

writer, in a Treatise on Happiness, at page 251 of Vol. II,

maintains the contrary. He quotes from Lord Bacon, that

'Unmarried men are the best friends, best masters, and best

servants,' and that 'The best _works_, and of greatest merit for

the public, have proceeded from unmarried or childless men.' He

also introduces Jeremy Taylor, as saying that 'Celibacy, like a

fly in the heart of an apple, dwells in perpetual sweetness.'

In commenting upon these remarks, this writer says, 'One half of

the most eminent persons that have ever lived in the world of

science and literature, have remained unmarried,' and 'in the

connubial state, too frequently, the sympathies are connected

within the family circle, while there is little generosity or

philanthropy beyond.' And lastly, that 'Unmarried men possess

many natural excellences, which if not engrossed by a family will

be directed towards their fellow creatures.'

Now it is admitted that many eminent men, especially in science

and literature, have been bachelors; and that among them were

Newton and Locke. But this only proves that while thousands and

tens of thousands of their fellow beings spent their lives in

insignificance, for want of a definite object to live for, these

men, having an _object_ before them, _accomplished_ something.

And if you could induce _one_ single man in a _thousand_, nay,

one in ten thousand, to make a similar use of his exemption from

the cares of a family, much might be expected from celibacy; or

at least, the results of their labors might be a partial

compensation to society for the evil tendency of their example.

For marriage cannot be denied to be an institution of God, and

indispensable to the existence of society. And who can say that

he has purchased an indulgence to disobey a law which is in some

respects paramount to every other, however great the price he may

have paid?

That marriage tends to concentrate our sympathies within the

family circle, I do not believe. A proper investigation of the

subject will, I am certain, prove this assumption unfounded.

Facts do _not_ show unmarried men to be 'best friends, masters,

servants' &c.; and I am sorry to find such a _theory_ maintained

by any sensible writer. Some of the illustrious examples of

celibacy which are usually brought, were by no means estimable

for their social feelings or habits. What would become of

mankind, if they were all to immure themselves in dungeons, or

what is nearly the same thing to social life, among books and

papers? Better, by far, to remain in ignorance of the material

laws which govern the universe, than to become recluses in a

world like this. Better even dispense with some of the lights

which genius has struck out to enable us to read suns and stars,

than to understand attraction in the material world, while we are

insensible to all attractions of a moral and social kind. God has

made us to _feel_, to _sympathize_, and to _love_,--as well as to

_know_.

SECTION II. _General Considerations._

We are now to enter on a most important part of our subject. Hitherto

it had been my object to point out the proper course for you to pursue

in reference to yourself, your own improvement, and consequent

usefulness. In the remarks of the preceding chapter, and in those which

follow, you are regarded as seeking a _companion_; as anxious to assume

new relations, such as involve new duties and new responsibilities.

If you are successful, instead of educating yourself alone, you are to

be concerned in improving the mental, moral, and social condition of

two persons; and in the end, perhaps _others_. You are to be a

_teacher_; you cannot avoid this station if you would. But you are also

to be a _learner_. Dr. Rush says we naturally imitate the manners, and

gradually acquire the tempers of persons with whom we live, provided

they are objects of our affection and respect. 'This,' he adds, 'has

been observed in husbands and wives who have lived long and happily

together; and even in servants.' And nothing can be more true.

Not only your temper and that of your companion, but your whole

character, considered as physical, mental, and moral beings, will be

mutually improved or injured through life. You will be placed, as I

have already intimated, at a school of mutual instruction, which is to

continue without vacation or change of monitors,--perhaps half a

century;--during every one of the earliest years of which, your

character will be more really and more permanently modified than in the

same amount of time at any prior period of your education, unless it

were in the veriest infancy.

Surely then it is no light affair to make preparation for a school like

this. There is no period in the life of a young man so important; for

there is none on which his happiness and the happiness of others so

essentially depend.

Before I advert to the particular qualifications which it is necessary

for you to seek in so intimate a friend, I shall mention a few

considerations of a general nature.

Settle it, in the first place, that absolute perfection is not to be

found. There are not a few young men of a romantic turn of mind,

fostered and increased by reading the fictitious writings of the day,

who have pictured to themselves for companions in life unreal forms and

angelic characters, instead of beings who dwell in 'houses of clay,'

and are 'crushed before the moth.' Such 'exalted imaginations' must

sooner or later be brought down: happy will it be with those who are

chastened in due season.

In the second place, resolve never to be misled by any adventitious

circumstances. Wealth, beauty, rank, friends, &c, are all proper

considerations, but they are not of the _first_ importance. They are

merely secondary qualifications. Marriage must never be a matter of

bargain and sale; for

In the third place, no marriage engagement should ever be thought of

unless there is first a genuine and rational attachment. No cold

calculations of profit or loss, no hereditary estates or other

adventitious circumstances, though they were equivalent to a peerage,

or a realm, should ever, for one moment, even in thought, be

substituted for love. It is treason to Him who ordained this most

blessed institution.

But fourthly, though wealth, however valuable in itself, is by no means

a recommendation in the present case, yet the means of a comfortable

support are certainly to be regarded. It is painful to see a very young

couple, with a large family, and destitute of the means of support.

In the fifth place, a _suitable age_ is desirable.

When we consider the varying tastes, habits and feelings of the same

person at different periods of his life, is it not at once obvious

that, other things being equal, those persons are most likely to find

that happiness which is sought in matrimony, by associating with those

whose age does not differ greatly from their own? It is true, some of

the happiest human connexions that ever were formed were between

persons of widely differing ages; but is this the general rule? Would

not those who have found happiness under other circumstances, have been

_still happier_, had their ages been more nearly equal?

There is little doubt that a person advanced in life may lengthen his

days by a connection with a person much younger than himself. Whether

the life of the other party is not shortened, in an equal degree, at

the same time, and by the same means, remains to be determined; but

probably it is so.

Some men and women are as old, in reality, whatever their _years_ may

indicate, at twenty, as others at twenty-five. The matrimonial

connection then may be safely formed between parties whose ages differ

a few years; but I think that as a general rule, the ages of the

parties ought to be nearly equal.

Lastly, it was believed by a great observer of human nature, the late

Dr. Spurzheim, that no person was fit for the domestic relations who

had not undergone trials and sufferings. The gay reader may smile at

this opinion, but I can assure him that many wise men besides Spurzheim

have entertained it. Chateaubriand, among others, in his 'Genius of

Christianity,' advances the same opinion. Some, as we have seen, hold

that no person can be well educated without suffering. Such persons,

however, use the term education as meaning something more than a little

scientific instruction;--as a means of forming _character_. In this

point of view no sentiment can be more true. Even the Bible confirms

it, when it assures us, that the 'Captain of our Salvation was made

perfect through sufferings.'

SECTION III. _Female Qualifications for Marriage._

1. MORAL EXCELLENCE.

The highest as well as noblest trait in female character, is love to

God. When we consider what are the tendencies of Christianity to

elevate woman from the state of degradation to which she had, for ages,

been subjected--when we consider not only what it has done, but what it

is destined yet to do for her advancement,--it is impossible not to

shrink from the presence of an impious, and above all an unprincipled

atheistical female, as from an ungrateful and unnatural being.

Man is under eternal obligations to Christianity and its Divine Author,

undoubtedly; but woman seems to be more so.

That charge against females which in the minds of some half atheistical

men is magnified into a stigma on Christianity itself, namely that they

are more apt to become religious than men; and that we find by far the

greater part of professing Christians to be females, is in my own view

one of the highest praises of the sex. I rejoice that their hearts are

more susceptible than ours, and that they do not war so strongly

against that religion which their nature demands. I have met with but

one female, whom I knew to be an avowed atheist.

Indeed there are very few men to be found, who are skeptical

themselves, who do not prefer pious companions of the other sex. I will

not stop to adduce this as an evidence of the truth of our religion

itself, and of its adaptation to the wants of the human race, for

happily it does not need it. Christianity is based on the most abundant

evidence, of a character wholly unquestionable. But this I do and will

say, that to be consistent, young men of loose principles ought not to

rail at females for their piety, and then whenever they seek for a

constant friend, one whom they can love,--for they never really love

the abandoned--always prefer, other things being equal, the society of

the pious and the virtuous.

2. COMMON SENSE.

Next on the list of particular qualifications in a female, for

matrimonial life, I place COMMON SENSE. In the view of some, it ought

to precede moral excellence. A person, it is said, who is deficient in

common sense, is, in proportion to the imbecility, unfit for _social_

life, and yet the same person might possess a kind of negative

excellency, or perhaps even a species of piety. This view appears to

me, however, much more specious than sound.

By _common sense_, as used in this place, I mean the faculty by means

of which we see things _as they_ really are. It implies judgment and

discrimination, and a proper sense of propriety in regard to the common

concerns of life. It leads us to form judicious plans of action, and to

be governed by our circumstances in such a way as will be generally

approved. It is the exercise of reason, uninfluenced by passion or

prejudice. To man, it is nearly what instinct is to brutes. It is very

different from genius or talent, as they are commonly defined; but much

better than either. It never blazes forth with the splendor of noon,

but shines with a constant and useful light. To the housewife--but,

above all, to the mother,--it is indispensable.

3. DESIRE FOR IMPROVEMENT.

Whatever other recommendations a lady may possess, she should have an

inextinguishable thirst for improvement. No sensible person can be

truly happy in the world, without this; much less qualified to make

others happy. But the genuine spirit of improvement, wherever it

exists, atones for the absence of many qualities which would otherwise

be indispensable: in this respect resembling that 'charity' which

covers 'a multitude of sins.' Without it, almost everything would be of

little consequence,--with it, every thing else is rendered doubly

valuable.

One would think that every sensible person, of either sex, would aspire

at improvement, were it merely to avoid the shame of being stationary

like the brutes. Above all, it is most surprising that any lady should

be satisfied to pass a day or even an hour without mental and moral

progress. It is no discredit to the lower animals that--'their little

all flows in at once,' that 'in ages they no more can know, or covet or

enjoy,' for this is the legitimate result of the physical constitution

which God has given them. But it is far otherwise with the masters and

mistresses of creation; for

'Were man to live coeval with the sun,

The patriarch pupil _should_ be learning still,

And dying, leave his lessons half unlearnt.'

There are,--I am sorry to say it--not a few of both sexes who never

appear to breathe out one hearty desire to rise, intellectually or

morally, with a view to the government of themselves or others. They

love themselves supremely--their friends subordinately--their

neighbors, perhaps not at all. But neither the love they bear to

themselves or others ever leads them to a single series of any sort of

action which has for its ultimate object the improvement of any thing

higher than the condition of the mere animal. Dress, personal

appearance, equipage, style of a dwelling or its furniture, with no

other view, however, than the promotion of mere physical enjoyment, is

the height of their desires for improvement!

Talk to them of elevating the intellect or improving the heart, and

they admit it is true; but they go their way and pursue their

accustomed round of folly again. The probability is, that though they

assent to your views, they do not understand you. It requires a stretch

of charity to which I am wholly unequal, to believe that beings who

ever conceived, for one short moment, of the height to which their

natures may be elevated, should sink back without a single struggle, to

a mere selfish, unsocial, animal life;--to lying in bed ten or twelve

hours daily, rising three or four hours later than the sun, spending

the morning in preparation at the glass, the remainder of the time till

dinner in unmeaning calls, the afternoon in yawning over a novel, and

the evening in the excitement of the tea table and the party, and the

ball room, to retire, perhaps at midnight, with the mind and body and

soul in a feverish state, to toss away the night in vapid or

distressing dreams.

How beings endowed with immortal souls can be contented to while away

precious hours in a manner so useless, and withal so displeasing to the

God who gave them their time for the improvement of themselves and

others, is to me absolutely inconceivable! Yet it is certainly done;

and that not merely by a few solitary individuals scattered up and down

the land; but in some of our most populous cities, by considerable

numbers.

A philanthropic individual not long since undertook with the aid of

others, to establish a weekly or semi-weekly gazette in one of our

cities, for almost the sole purpose, as I have since learned, of

rousing the drones among her sex to benevolent action in some form or

other, in behalf of members of their families, their friends or their

neighbors. She hoped, at first, to save them from many hours of ennui

by the perusal of her columns; and that their _minds_ being opened to

instruction, and their _hearts_ made to vibrate in sympathy with the

cries of ignorance, poverty, or absolute distress, their _hands_ might

be roused to action. But alas, the articles in the paper were _too

long_, or _too dry_. They could not task their minds to go through with

an argument.

Should the young man who is seeking an 'help meet,' chance to fall in

with such _beings_ as these--and some we fear there are in almost every

part of our land,--let him shun them as he would the 'choke damp' of

the cavern.

Their society would extinguish, rather than fan the flame of every

generous or benevolent feeling that might be kindling in his bosom.

_With_ the fond, the ardent, the never failing desire to improve,

physically, intellectually, and morally, there are few females who may

not make tolerable companions for a man of sense;--_without_ it, though

a young lady were beautiful and otherwise lovely beyond comparison,

wealthy as the Indies, surrounded by thousands of the most worthy

friends, and even talented, let him beware! Better remain in celibacy a

thousand years (could life last so long) great as the evil may be, than

form a union with such an object. He should pity, and seek her

reformation, if not beyond the bounds of possibility; but love her he

should not! The penalty will be absolutely insupportable.

One point ought to be settled,--I think unalterably settled--before

matrimony. It ought indeed so be settled in early life, but it is

better late, perhaps, than never. Each of the parties should consider

themselves as sacredly pledged, in all cases, to yield to conviction. I

have no good opinion of the man who expects his wife to yield her

opinion to his, on every occasion, unless she is convinced. I say on

_every occasion_; for that she sometimes ought to do so, seems to be

both scriptural and rational. It would be very inconvenient to call in

a third person as an umpire upon every slight difference of opinion

between a young couple, besides being very humiliating. But if each

maintain, with pertinacity, their opinion, what can be done? It does

seem to me that every sensible woman, who feels any good degree of

confidence in her husband, will perceive the propriety of yielding her

opinion to his in such cases, where the matter is of such a nature that

it cannot be delayed.

But there are a thousand things occurring, in which there is no

necessity of forming an immediate opinion, or decision, except from

conviction. I should never like the idea of a woman's conforming to her

husband's views to please him, merely, without considering whether they

are correct or not. It seems to me a sort of treason against the God

who gave her a mind of her own, with an intention that she should use

it. But it would be higher treason still, in male, or female, not to

yield, when actually convinced.

4. FONDNESS FOR CHILDREN.

Few traits of female character are more important than this. Yet there

is much reason to believe that, even in contemplating an engagement

that is expected to last for life, it is almost universally overlooked.

Without it, though a woman should possess every accomplishment of

person, mind, and manners, she would be poor indeed; and would probably

render those around her miserable. I speak now generally. There may be

exceptions to this, as to other general rules. A dislike of children,

even in men, is an unfavorable omen; in woman it is insupportable; for

it is grossly unnatural. To a susceptible, intelligent, virtuous mind,

I can scarcely conceive of a worse situation in this world or any

other, than to be chained for life to a person who hates children. You

can purchase, if you have the pecuniary means, almost every thing but

_maternal love_. This no gold can buy. Wo to the female who is doomed

to drag out a miserable existence with a husband who 'can't bear

children;' but thrice miserable is the doom of him who has a wife and a

family of children, but whose children have no _mother_! If there be

orphans any where in the wide world, they are these.[13]

The more I reflect on the four last mentioned traits of female

character, the more they rise in my estimation, eclipsing all others;

unless perhaps, a good temper.

It is said that after every precaution, the choice of a wife is like

buying a ticket in a lottery. If we were absolutely deaf and blind in

the selection, and were so from necessity, the maxim might be just. But

this is not so. We shut our eyes and stop our ears voluntarily, and

then complain of the imperfection of our means of forming a judgment.

In truth we impeach the goodness of Him who was the author of the

_institution_.

No young man is worthy of a wife who has not sense enough to determine,

even after a few interviews, what the bent of a lady's mind

is;--whether she listens with most pleasure to conversation which is

wholly unimproving, or whether she gladly turns from it, when an

opportunity offers, to subjects which are above the petty chit-chat or

common but fashionable scandal of the day; and above all, avoids

_retailing_ it. He knows, or _may_ know, without a 'seven years'

acquaintance, whether she spends a part of her leisure time in reading,

or whether the whole is spent in dressing, visiting, or conversing

about plays, actors, theatres, &c. And if she reads a part of the time,

the fault must be his own, if he does not know whether she relishes any

thing but the latest novel, or the most light--not to say

empty--periodical. Let it be remembered, then, by every young man that

the fault is his own, if he do not give himself time, before he forms

an engagement that is to last for life, to ascertain whether his

friendship is to be formed with a person who is desirous of

improvement, or with one who, living only for pleasure, is 'dead while

she liveth.'

You will say it is difficult to ascertain whether she is fond of

children or not. But I doubt it. Has she then no young brothers, or

sisters, or cousins? Are there no children in the neighborhood? For if

there are,--if there is but one, and she sees that individual but once

a week,--the fact may easily be ascertained. If she loves that child,

the child will love her; and its eye will brighten when it sees her, or

hears her name mentioned. Children seldom fail to keep debt and credit

in these matters, and they know how to balance the account, with great

ingenuity.

These remarks are made, not in the belief that they will benefit those

who are already blinded by fancy or passion, but with the hope that

some more fortunate reader may reflect on the probable chances of

happiness or misery, and pause before he leaps into the vortex of

matrimonial discord. No home can ever be a happy one to any of its

inmates, where there is no maternal love, nor any desire for mental or

moral improvement. But where these exist, in any considerable degree,

and the original attachment was founded on correct principles, there is

always hope of brighter days, even though clouds at present obscure the

horizon. No woman who loves her husband, and desires to make continual

improvement, will long consent to render those around her unhappy.

[13] It is worthy of remark, as a well established fact, that the

Chinese have an _Isan-mon_ or _mother_, to their silkworms! Her

duty is, not to attend to the eggs and the hatching, for nature

has made provision for that; but to take possession of the

chamber where the young are deposited; to see that it be free

from 'noisome smells, and all noises;' to attend to its

temperature, and to 'avoid making a smoke, or raising a dust.'

She must not enter the room till she is perfectly clean in person

and dress, and must be clothed in a very plain habit; and in

order to be more sensible to the temperature of the place, her

dress must contain no lining.

Now although every mother of children does not have the care

of silkworms, yet she has the care of beings who are in some

respects equally susceptible. And I trust no person who knows the

importance of temperature, ventilation, &c. especially to the

tender infant, will be ashamed to derive an important lesson from

the foregoing.

5. LOVE OF DOMESTIC CONCERNS.

Without the knowledge and the love of domestic concerns, even the wife

of a peer, is but a poor affair. It was the fashion, in former times,

for ladies to understand a great deal about these things, and it would

be very hard to make me believe that it did not tend to promote the

interests and honor of their husbands.

The concerns of a great family never can be _well_ managed, if left

_wholly_ to hirelings; and there are many parts of these affairs in

which it would be unseemly for husbands to meddle. Surely, no lady can

be too high in rank to make it proper for her to be well acquainted

with the character and general demeanor of all the female servants. To

receive and give character is too much to be left to a servant, however

good, whose service has been ever so long, or acceptable.

Much of the ease and happiness of the great and rich must depend on the

character of those by whom they are assisted. They live under the same

roof with them; they are frequently the children of their tenants, or

poorer neighbors; the conduct of their whole lives must be influenced

by the examples and precepts which they here imbibe; and when ladies

consider how much more weight there must be in one word from them, than

in ten thousand words from a person who, call her what you like, is

still a _fellow servant_, it does appear strange that they should

forego the performance of this at once important and pleasing part of

their duty.

I am, however, addressing myself, in this work, to persons in the

middle ranks of life; and here a knowledge of domestic affairs is so

necessary in every wife, that the lover ought to have it continually in

his eye. Not only a knowledge of these affairs--not only to know how

things _ought to be done_, but how to _do them_; not only to know what

ingredients ought to be put into a pie or a pudding, but to be able _to

make_ the pie or the pudding.

Young people, when they come together, ought not, unless they have

fortunes, or are to do unusual business, to think about _servants_!

Servants for what! To help them eat, and drink, and sleep? When they

have children, there must be some _help_ in a farmer's or tradesman's

house, but until then, what call is there for a servant in a house, the

master of which has to _earn_ every mouthful that is consumed?

Eating and drinking come _three times every day_; they must come; and,

however little we may, in the days of our health and vigor, care about

choice food and about cookery, we very soon get _tired_ of heavy or

burnt bread, and of spoiled joints of meat. We bear them for once or

twice perhaps; but about the third time, we begin to lament; about the

fifth time, it must be an extraordinary affair that will keep us from

complaining; if the like continue for a month or two, we begin to

_repent_; and then adieu to all our anticipated delights. We discover,

when it is too late, that we have not got a helpmate, but a burden;

and, the fire of love being damped, the unfortunately educated

creature, whose parents are more to blame than she is, unless she

resolve to learn her duty, is doomed to lead a life very nearly

approaching to that of misery; for, however considerate the husband, he

never can esteem her as he would have done, had she been skilled in

domestic affairs.

The mere _manual_ performance of domestic labors is not, indeed,

absolutely necessary in the female head of the family of professional

men; but, even here, and also in the case of great merchants and of

gentlemen living on their fortunes, surely the head of the household

ought to be able to give directions as to the purchasing of meal,

salting meat, making bread, making preserves of all sorts; and ought to

see the things done.

The lady ought to take care that food be well cooked; that there be

always a sufficient supply; that there be good living without waste;

and that in her department, nothing shall be seen inconsistent with the

rank, station, and character of her husband. If he have a skilful and

industrious wife, he will, unless he be of a singularly foolish turn,

gladly leave all these things to her absolute dominion, controlled only

by the extent of the whole expenditure, of which he must be the best

judge.

But, in a farmer's or a tradesman's family, the manual performance is

absolutely necessary, whether there be domestics or not. No one knows

how to teach another so well as one who has done, and can do, the thing

himself. It was said of a famous French commander, that, in attacking

an enemy, he did not say to his men '_go_ on,' but '_come_ on;' and,

whoever has well observed the movements of domestics, must know what a

prodigious difference there is in the effect of the words, _go_ and

_come_.

A very good rule would be, to have nothing to eat, in a farmer's or

mechanic's house, that the mistress did not know how to prepare and to

cook; no pudding, tart, pie or cake, that she did not know how to make.

Never fear the toil to her: exercise is good for health; and without

health there is no beauty. Besides, what is the labor in such a case?

And how many thousands of ladies, who idle away the day, would give

half their fortunes for that sound sleep which the stirring housewife

seldom fails to enjoy.

Yet, if a young farmer or mechanic _marry_ a girl, who has been brought

up only to '_play music_;' to _draw_, to _sing_, to waste paper, pen

and ink in writing long and half romantic letters, and to see shows,

and plays, and read novels;--if a young man do marry such an

unfortunate young creature, let him bear the consequences with temper.

Let him be _just_. Justice will teach him to treat her with great

indulgence; to endeavor to persuade her to learn her business as a

wife; to be patient with her; to reflect that he has taken her, being

apprized of her inability; to bear in mind, that he was, or seemed to

be, pleased with her showy and useless acquirements; and that, when the

gratification of his passion has been accomplished, he is unjust, and

cruel, and unmanly, if he turn round upon her, and accuse her of a want

of that knowledge, which he well knew, beforehand, she did not possess.

For my part, I do not know, nor can I form an idea of, a more

unfortunate being than a girl with a mere boarding school education,

and without a fortune to enable her to keep domestics, when married. Of

what _use_ are _her_ accomplishments? Of what use her music, her

drawing, and her romantic epistles? If she should chance to possess a

sweet disposition, and good nature, the first faint cry of her first

babe drives all the tunes and all the landscapes, and all the imaginary

beings out of her head for ever.

The farmer or the tradesman's wife has to _help earn_ a provision for

her children; or, at the least, to help to earn a store for sickness or

old age. She ought, therefore, to be qualified to begin, at once, to

assist her husband in his earnings. The way in which she can most

efficiently assist, is by taking care of his property; by expending his

money to the greatest advantage; by wasting nothing, but by making the

table sufficiently abundant with the least expense.

But how is she to do these things, unless she has been _brought up_ to

understand domestic affairs? How is she to do these things, if she has

been taught to think these matters beneath her study? How is the man to

expect her to do these things, if she has been so bred, as to make her

habitually look upon them as worthy the attention of none but low and

ignorant women?

_Ignorant_, indeed! Ignorance consists in a want of knowledge of those

things which your calling or state of life naturally supposes you to

understand. A ploughman is not an ignorant man because he does not know

how to read. If he knows how to plough, he is not to be called an

ignorant man; but a wife may be justly called an ignorant woman, if she

does not know how to provide a dinner for her husband. It is cold

comfort for a hungry man, to tell him how delightfully his wife plays

and sings. _Lovers_ may live on very aerial diet, but husbands stand in

need of something more solid; and young women may take my word for it,

that a constantly clean table, well cooked victuals, a house in order,

and a cheerful fire, will do more towards preserving a husband's heart,

than all the 'accomplishments' taught in all the 'establishments' in

the world without them.

6. SOBRIETY.

Surely no reasonable young man will expect sobriety in a companion,

when he does not possess this qualification himself. But by _sobriety_,

I do not mean a habit which is opposed to _intoxication_, for if that

be hateful in a man, what must it be in a woman? Besides, it does seem

to me that no young man, with his eyes open, and his other senses

perfect, needs any caution on that point. Drunkenness, downright

drunkenness, is usually as incompatible with _purity_, as it is with

_decency_.

Much is sometimes said in favor of a little wine or other fermented

liquors, especially at dinner. No young lady, in health, needs any of

these stimulants. Wine, or ale, or cider, at dinner! I would as soon

take a companion from the _streets_, as one who must habitually have

her glass or two of wine at dinner. And this is not an opinion formed

prematurely or hastily.

But by the word SOBRIETY in a young woman, I mean a great deal more

than even a rigid abstinence from a love of drink, which I do not

believe to exist to any considerable degree, in this country, even in

the least refined parts of it. I mean a great deal _more_ than this; I

mean sobriety of conduct. The word _sober_ and its derivatives mean

_steadiness_, _seriousness_, _carefulness_, _scrupulous propriety of

conduct_.

Now this kind of sobriety is of great importance in the person with

whom we are to live constantly. Skipping, romping, rattling girls are

very amusing where all consequences are out of the question, and they

may, perhaps, ultimately become _sober_. But while you have no

certainty of this, there is a presumptive argument on the other side.

To be sure, when girls are mere children, they are expected to play and

romp _like_ children. But when they are arrived at an age which turns

their thoughts towards a situation for life; when they begin to think

of having the command of a house, however small or poor, it is time for

them to cast away, not the cheerfulness or the simplicity, but the

_levity_ of the child.

'If I could not have found a young woman,' says a certain writer, 'who

I was not sure possessed _all_ the qualities expressed by that word

_sobriety_, I should have remained a bachelor to the end of life.

Scores of gentlemen have, at different times, expressed to me their

surprise that I was "_always in spirits_; that nothing _pulled me

down_;" and the truth is, that throughout nearly forty years of

troubles, losses, and crosses, assailed all the while by numerous and

powerful enemies, and performing, at the same time, greater mental

labors than man ever before performed; all those labors requiring

mental exertion, and some of them mental exertion of the highest order,

I have never known a single hour of _real anxiety_; the troubles have

been no troubles to me; I have not known what _lowness of spirits_

meant; and have been more gay, and felt less care than any bachelor

that ever lived. "You are always in spirits!" To be sure, for why

should I not be so? Poverty, I have always set at defiance, and I

could, therefore, defy the temptations to riches; and as to _home_ and

_children_, I had taken care to provide myself with an inexhaustible

store of that "sobriety" which I so strongly recommend to others.

'This sobriety is a title to trustworthiness; and this, young man, is

the treasure that you ought to prize above all others. Miserable is the

husband who, when he crosses the threshold of his house, carries with

him doubts, and fears, and suspicions. I do not mean suspicions of the

_fidelity_ of his wife; but of her care, frugality, attention to his

interests, and to the health and morals of his children. Miserable is

the man who cannot leave all unlocked; and who is not _sure_, quite

_certain_, that all is as safe as if grasped in his own hand.

'He is the happy husband who can go away at a moment's warning, leaving

his house and family with as little anxiety as he quits an inn, no more

fearing to find, on his return, any thing wrong, than he would fear a

discontinuance of the rising and setting of the sun; and if, as in my

case, leaving books and papers all lying about at sixes and sevens,

finding them arranged in proper order, and the room, during the lucky

interval, freed from the effects of his and his ploughman's or

gardener's dirty shoes. Such a man has no _real cares--no troubles_;

and this is the sort of life I have led. I have had all the numerous

and indescribable delights of home and children, and at the same time,

all the bachelor's freedom from domestic cares.

'But in order to possess this precious _trustworthiness_, you must, if

you can, exercise your _reason_ in the choice of your partner. If she

be vain of her person, very fond of dress, fond of _flattery_ at all,

given to gadding about, fond of what are called _parties of pleasure_,

or _coquetish_, though in the least degree,--she will never be

trustworthy; she cannot change her nature; and if you marry her, you

will be unjust, if you expect trustworthiness at her hands. But on the

other hand, if you find in her that innate _sobriety_ of which I have

been speaking, there is required on your part, and that at once, too,

confidence and trust without any limit. Confidence in this case is

nothing, unless it be reciprocal. To have a trustworthy wife, you must

begin by showing her, even before marriage, that you have no

suspicions, fears, or doubts in regard to her. Many a man has been

discarded by a virtuous girl, merely on account of his querulous

conduct. All women despise jealous men, and if they marry them, their

motive is other than that of affection.'

There is a tendency, in our very natures, to become what we are taken

to be. Beware then of suspicion or jealousy, lest you produce the very

thing which you most dread. The evil results of suspicion and jealousy

whether in single or married, public or private life, may be seen by

the following fact.

A certain professional gentleman had the misfortune to possess a

suspicious temper. He had not a better friend on the earth than Mr. C.,

yet by some unaccountable whim or other, he began of a sudden to

suspect he was his enemy;--and what was at first at the farthest

possible remove from the truth, ultimately grew to be a reality. Had it

not have been for his jealousy, Mr. C. might have been to this hour one

of the doctor's warmest and most confidential friends, instead of being

removed--and in a great measure through _his_ influence--from a useful

field of labor.

'Let any man observe as I frequently have,' says the writer last

quoted, 'with delight, the excessive fondness of the laboring people

for their children. Let him observe with what care they dress them out

on Sundays with means deducted from their own scanty meals. Let him

observe the husband, who has toiled, like his horse, all the week,

nursing the babe, while the wife is preparing dinner. Let him observe

them both abstaining from a sufficiency, lest the children should feel

the pinchings of hunger. Let him observe, in short, the whole of their

demeanor, the real mutual affection evinced, not in words, but in

unequivocal deeds.

'Let him observe these things, and having then cast a look at the lives

of the great and wealthy, he will say, with me, that when a man is

choosing his partner for life, the dread of poverty ought to be cast to

the winds. A laborer's cottage in a cleanly condition; the husband or

wife having a babe in arms, looking at two or three older ones, playing

between the flower borders, going from the wicket to the door, is,

according to my taste, the most interesting object that eyes ever

beheld; and it is an object to be seen in no country on earth but

England.'

It happens, however, that the writer had not seen all the countries

upon earth, nor even all in the interior of United America. There are

as moving instances of native simplicity and substantial happiness here

as in any other country; and occasionally in even the higher classes.

The wife of a distinguished lawyer and senator in Congress, never left

the society of her own children, to go for once to see her friends

abroad, in _eleven years_! I am not defending the conduct of the

husband who would doom his wife to imprisonment in his own house, even

amid a happy group of children, for eleven years; but the example

shows, at least, that there are women fitted for domestic life in other

countries besides England.

Ardent young men may fear that great sobriety in a young woman argues a

want of that warmth which they naturally so much desire and approve.

But observation and experience attest to the contrary. They tell us

that levity is ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the companion of a

_want_ of ardent feeling. But the _licentious_ never _love_. Their

passion is chiefly animal. Even better women, if they possess light and

frivolous minds, have seldom any ardent passion.

I would not, however, recommend that you should be too severe in

judging, when the conduct does not go beyond mere _levity_, and is not

bordering on _loose_ conduct; for something certainly depends here on

constitution and animal spirits, and something on the manners of the

country.

If any person imagine that the sobriety I have been recommending would

render young women moping or gloomy, he is much mistaken, for the

contrary is the fact. I have uniformly found--and I began to observe it

in my very childhood--that your jovial souls, men or women, except when

over the bottle, are of all human beings the most dull and insipid.

They can no more exist--they may _vegetate_--but they can no more

_live_ without some excitement, than a fish could live on the top of

the Alleghany. If it be not the excitement of the bottle, it must be

that of the tea or the coffee cup, or food converted into some

unwholesome form or other by condiments; or if it be none of these,

they must have some excitement of the intellect, for intemperance is

not confined to the use of condiments and poisons for the body; there

are condiments and poisons to mind and heart. In fact, they usually

accompany each other.

Show me a person who cannot live on plain and simple food and the only

drink the Creator ever made, and as a general rule you will show me a

person to whom the plain and the solid and the useful in domestic,

social, intellectual, and moral life are insipid if not disgusting.

'They are welcome to all that sort of labor,' said one of these

creatures--not rationals--this very day, to me, in relation to plain

domestic employments.--Show me a female, as many, alas! very many in

fashionable life are now trained, and you show me a person who has none

of the qualities that fit her to be a help meet for man in a life of

simplicity. She could recite well at the high school, no doubt; but the

moment she leaves school, she has nothing to do, and is taught to do

nothing. I have seen girls, of this description, and they may be seen

by others.

But what is such a female--one who can hardly help herself--good for,

at home or abroad; married, or single? The moment she has not some

feast, or party, or play, or novel, or--I know not what--something to

keep up a fever, the moment I say that she has not something of this

sort to anticipate or enjoy, that moment she is miserable. Wo to the

young man who becomes wedded for life to a creature of this

description. She may stay at home, for want of a better place, and she

may add one to the national census every ten years, but a companion, or

a mother, she cannot be.

I should dislike a moping melancholy creature as much as any man,

though were I tied to such a thing, I could live with her; but I never

could enjoy her society, nor but half of my own. He is but half a man

who is thus wedded, and will exclaim, in a literal sense, 'When shall I

be delivered from the body of this death?'

One hour, an _animal_ of this sort is moping, especially if nobody but

her husband is present; the next hour, if others happen to be present,

she has plenty of smiles; the next she is giggling or capering about;

and the next singing to the motion of a lazy needle, or perhaps weeping

over a novel. And this is called sentiment! _She_ is a woman of feeling

and good taste!

7. INDUSTRY.

Let not the individual whose eye catches the word _industry_, at the

beginning of this division of my subject, condemn me as degrading

females to the condition of mere wheels in a machine for money-making;

for I mean no such thing. There is nothing more abhorrent to the soul

of a sensible man than female _avarice_. The 'spirit of a man' may

sustain him, while he sees avaricious and miserly individuals among his

own sex, though the sight is painful enough, even here; but a female

miser, 'who can bear?'

Still if woman is intended to be a 'help meet,' for the other sex, I

know of no reason why she should not be so in physical concerns, as

well as mental and moral. I know not by what rule it is that many

resolve to remain for ever in celibacy, unless they believe their

companion can 'support' them, without labor. I have sometimes even

doubted whether any person who makes these declarations can be sincere.

Yet when I hear people, of both sexes, speak of poverty as a greater

calamity than death, I am led to think that this dread of poverty does

really exist among both sexes. And there are reasons for believing that

some females, bred in fashionable life, look forward to matrimony as a

state, of such entire exemption from care and labor, and of such

uninterrupted ease, that they would prefer celibacy and even death to

those duties which scripture, and reason, and common sense, appear to

me to enjoin.

Such persons, whatever may be their other qualifications, I call upon

every young man to avoid, as he would a pestilence. If they are really

determined to live and act as mere drones in society, let them live

alone. Do not give them an opportunity to spread the infection of so

wretched a disease, if you can honestly help it.

The woman who does not actually prefer action to inaction--industry to

idleness--labor to ease--and who does not steadfastly resolve to labor

moderately as long as she lives, whatever may be her circumstances, is

unfit for life, social or domestic. It is not for me to say, in what

_form_ her labor shall be applied, except in rearing the young. But

labor she ought--all she is able--while life and health lasts, at

something or other; or she ought not to complain if she suffers the

_natural penalty_; and she ought to do it with cheerfulness.

I like much the quaint remark of a good old lady of ninety. She was

bred to labor, had labored through the whole of her long and eventful

life, and was still at her 'wheel.' 'Why,' said she, 'people ought to

strain _every nerve_ to get property, as a matter of Christian duty.'

I should choose to modify this old lady's remark, and say that, people

ought to do all they can _without straining_ their _muscles_ or

_nerves_; not to get property, but because it is at once, their duty

and their happiness.

The great object of life is to do good. The great object of society is

to increase the power to good. Both sexes should aim, in matrimony, at

a more extended sphere of usefulness. To increase an estate, merely, is

a low and unworthy aim, from which may God preserve the rising

generation. Still I must say, that I greatly prefer the avaricious

being--a monster though she might be--to the stupid soul who would not

lift a finger if she could help it, and who determines to fold her arms

whenever she has a convenient opportunity.

If a female be lazy, there will be lazy domestics, and, what is a great

deal worse, children will acquire this habit. Every thing, however

necessary to be done, will be put off to the last moment, and then it

will be done badly, and, in many cases, not at all. The dinner will be

too late; the journey or the visit will be tardy; inconveniences of all

sorts will be continually arising. There will always be a heavy arrear

of things unperformed; and this, even among the most wealthy, is a

great evil; for if they have no business imposed upon them by

necessity, they _make_ business for themselves. Life would be

intolerable without it; and therefore an indolent woman must always be

an evil, be her rank or station what it may.

But, _who is to tell_ whether a girl will make an industrious woman?

How is the pur-blind lover especially, to be able to ascertain whether

she, whose smiles and dimples and bewitching lips have half bereft him

of his senses; how is he to be able to judge, from any thing that he

can see, whether the beloved object will be industrious or lazy? Why,

it is very difficult; it is a matter that reason has very little to do

with. Still there are indications which enable a man, not wholly

deprived of the use of his reason, to form a pretty accurate judgment

in this matter.

It was a famous story some years ago, that a young man, who was

courting one of three sisters, happened to be on a visit to her, when

all the three were present, and when one said to the others, 'I

_wonder_ where _our_ needle is.' Upon which he withdrew, as soon as was

consistent with the rules of politeness, resolving to think no more of

a girl who possessed a needle only in partnership, and who, it

appeared, was not too well informed as to the place where even that

share was deposited.

This was, to be sure, a very flagrant instance of a want of industry;

for, if the third part of the use of a needle satisfied her, when

single, it was reasonable to anticipate that marriage would banish that

useful implement altogether. But such instances are seldom suffered to

come in contact with the eyes and ears of the lover. There are,

however, as I have already said, certain _rules_, which, if attended to

with care, will serve as pretty sure guides.

And, first, if you find the tongue lazy, you may be nearly certain that

the hands and feet are not very industrious. By laziness of the tongue

I do not mean silence; but, I mean, a _slow_ and _soft_ utterance; a

sort of _sighing_ out of the words, instead of _speaking_ them; a sort

of letting the sounds fall out, as if the party were sick at stomach.

The pronunciation of an industrious person is generally _quick_, and

_distinct_; the voice, if not strong, _firm_ at the least. Not

masculine, but as feminine as possible; not a _croak_ nor a _bawl_, but

a quick, distinct, and sound voice.