One writer insists that the motion of those little members of the body,

the teeth, are very much in harmony with the operations of the mind;

and a very observing gentleman assures me that he can judge pretty

accurately of the temper, and indeed of the general character of a

_child_, by his manner of eating. And I have no doubt of the fact.

Nothing is more obvious than that the temper of the child who is so

greedy as to swallow down his food habitually, without masticating it,

must be very different from that of him who habitually eats slowly.

Hunger, I know, will quicken the jaws in either case, but I am

supposing them on an equal footing in this respect.

Another mark of industry is, a _quick step_, and a somewhat _heavy

tread_, showing that the foot comes down with a _hearty good will_. If

the body lean a little forward, and the eyes keep steadily in the same

direction, while the feet are going, so much the better, for these

discover _earnestness_ to arrive at the intended point. I do not like,

and I _never_ liked, your _sauntering_, soft-stepping girls, who move

as if they were perfectly indifferent as to the result. And, as to the

_love_ part of the story, who ever expects ardent and lasting affection

from one of these sauntering girls, will, when too late, find his

mistake. The character is much the same throughout; and probably no man

ever yet saw a sauntering girl, who did not, when married, make an

indifferent wife, and a cold-hearted mother; cared very little for,

either by husband or children; and, of course, having no store of those

blessings which are the natural resources to apply to in sickness and

in old age.

8. EARLY RISING.

_Early rising_ is another mark of industry; and though, in the higher

stations of life, it may be of no importance in a mere pecuniary point

of view, it is, even there, of importance in other respects; for it is

rather difficult to keep love alive towards a woman who never sees the

_dew_, never beholds the rising _sun_, and who constantly comes

directly from a reeking bed to the breakfast table, and there chews,

without appetite, the choicest morsels of human food. A man might,

perhaps, endure this for a month or two, without being disgusted; but

not much longer.

As to people in the middle rank of life, where a living and a provision

for children is to be sought by labor of some sort or other, late

rising in the wife is certain ruin; and rarely will you find an

early-rising wife, who had been a late-rising girl. If brought up to

late rising, she will like it; it will be her _habit_; she will, when

married, never want excuses for indulging in the habit. At first she

will be indulged without bounds; and to make a _change_ afterwards will

be difficult, for it will be deemed a _wrong_ done to her; she will

ascribe it to diminished affection. A quarrel must ensue, or, the

husband must submit to be ruined, or, at the very least, to see half

the fruit of his labor snored and lounged away.

And, is this being unreasonably harsh or severe upon woman? By no

means. It arises from an ardent desire to promote the happiness, and to

add to the natural, legitimate, and salutary influence of the female

sex. The tendency of this advice is to promote the preservation of

their health; to prolong the duration of their beauty; to cause them to

be loved to the last day of their lives; and to give them, during the

whole of those lives, that weight and consequence, and respect, of

which laziness would render them wholly unworthy.

9. FRUGALITY.

This means the contrary of extravagance. It does not mean _stinginess_;

it does not mean _pinching_; but it means an abstaining from all

unnecessary expenditure, and all unnecessary use of goods of any and of

every sort. It is a quality of great importance, whether the rank in

life be high or low.

Some people are, indeed, so rich, they have such an over-abundance of

money and goods, that how to get rid of them would, to a spectator,

seem to be their only difficulty. How many individuals of fine estates,

have been ruined and degraded by the extravagance of their wives! More

frequently by their _own_ extravagance, perhaps; but, in numerous

instances, by that of those whose duty it is to assist in upholding

their stations by husbanding their fortunes.

If this be the case amongst the opulent, who have estates to draw upon,

what must be the consequences of a want of frugality in the middle and

lower ranks of life? Here it must be fatal, and especially among that

description of persons whose wives have, in many cases, the receiving

as well as the expending of money. In such a case, there wants nothing

but extravagance in the wife to make ruin as inevitable as the arrival

of old age.

To obtain security against this is very difficult; yet, if the lover be

not quite _blind_, he may easily discover a propensity towards

extravagance. The object of his addresses will, nine times out of ten,

never be the manager of a house; but she must have her _dress_, and

other little matters under her control. If she be costly in these; if,

in these, she step above her rank, or even to the top of it; if she

purchase all she is able to purchase, and prefer the showy to the

useful, the gay and the fragile to the less sightly and more durable,

he may be sure that the disposition will cling to her through life. If

he perceive in her a taste for costly food, costly furniture, costly

amusements: if he find her love of gratification to be bounded only by

her want of means; if he find her full of admiration of the trappings

of the rich, and of desire to be able to imitate them, he may be pretty

sure that she will not spare his purse, when once she gets her hand

into it; and, therefore, if he can bid adieu to her charms, the sooner

he does it, the better.

Some of the indications of extravagance in a lady are ear-rings,

broaches, bracelets, buckles, necklaces, diamonds, (real or mock,) and

nearly all the ornaments which women put upon their persons.

These things may be more proper in _palaces_, or in scenes resembling

palaces; but, when they make their appearance amongst people in the

middle rank of life, where, after all, they only serve to show that

poverty in the parties which they wish to disguise; when the mean,

tawdry things make their appearance in this rank of life, they are the

sure indications of a disposition that will always be straining at what

it can never attain.

To marry a girl of this disposition is really self-destruction. You

never can have either property or peace. Earn her a horse to ride, she

will want a gig: earn the gig, she will want a chariot: get her that,

she will long for a coach and four: and, from stage to stage, she will

torment you to the end of her or your days; for, still there will be

somebody with a finer equipage than you can give her; and, as long as

this is the case, you will never have rest. Reason would tell her, that

she could never be at the _top_; that she must stop at some point short

of that; and that, therefore, all expenses in the rivalship are so much

thrown away. But, reason and broaches and bracelets seldom go in

company. The girl who has not the sense to perceive that her person is

disfigured and not beautified by parcels of brass and tin, or even gold

and silver, as well to _regret_, if she dare not _oppose_ the tyranny

of absurd fashions, is not entitled to a full measure of the confidence

of any individual.

10. PERSONAL NEATNESS.

There never yet was, and there never will be sincere and ardent love,

of long duration, where personal neatness is wholly neglected. I do not

say that there are not those who would live peaceably and even

contentedly in these circumstances. But what I contend for is this:

that there never can exist, for any length of time, ardent _affection_,

in any man towards a woman who neglects neatness, either in her person,

or in her house affairs.

Men may be careless as to their own person; they may, from the nature

of their business, or from their want of time to adhere to neatness in

dress, be slovenly in their own dress and habits; but, they do not

relish this in their wives, who must still have _charms_; and charms

and neglect of the person seldom go together. I do not, of course,

approve of it even in men.

We may, indeed, lay it down as a rule of almost universal application,

that supposing all other things to be equal, he who is most guilty of

personal neglect; will be the most ignorant and the most vicious. _Why_

there should be, universally, a connection between slovenliness,

ignorance, and vice, is a question I have no room in this work to

discuss.

I am well acquainted with one whole family who neglect their persons

from principle. The gentleman, who is a sort of new light in religious

concerns, will tell you that the true Christian _should_ 'slight the

hovel, as beneath his care.' But there is a want of intelligence, and

even common refinement in the family, that certainly does not and

_cannot_ add much to their own happiness, or recommend religion--aside

from the fact that it greatly annoys their neighbors. And though the

head of the family observes many external duties with Jewish

strictness, neither he nor any of its members are apt to bridle their

tongues, or remember that on _ordinary_ as well as _special_ occasions

they are bound to 'do all to the glory of God.' As to the connection of

mind with matter--I mean the dependence of mind and soul on body, they

are wholly ignorant.

It is not dress that the husband wants to be perpetual: it is not

finery; but _cleanliness_ in every thing. Women generally dress enough,

especially when they _go abroad_. This _occasional_ cleanliness is not

the thing that a husband wants: he wants it always; in-doors as well as

out; by night as well as by day; on the floor as well as on the table;

and, however he may complain about the trouble and the 'expense' of it,

he would complain more if it were neglected.

The indications of female neatness are, first, a clean _skin_. The

hands and face will usually be clean, to be sure, if there be soap and

water within reach; but if on observing other parts of the head besides

the face, you make discoveries indicating a different character, the

sooner you cease your visits the better. I hope, now, that no young

woman who may chance to see this book, will be offended at this, and

think me too severe on her sex. I am only telling that which all men

think; and, it is a decided advantage to them to be fully informed of

our thoughts on the subject. If any one, who reads this, shall find,

upon self-examination, that she is defective in this respect, let her

take the hint, and correct the defect.

In the _dress_, you can, amongst rich people, find little whereon to

form a judgment as to cleanliness, because they have not only the dress

prepared for them, but put upon them into the bargain. But, in the

middle ranks of life, the dress is a good criterion in two respects:

first, as to its _color_; for if the _white_ be a sort of _yellow_,

cleanly hands would have been at work to prevent that. A _white-yellow_

cravat, or shirt, on a man, speaks at once the character of his wife;

and, you may be assured, that she will not take with your dress pains

which she has never taken with her own.

Then, the manner of _putting on_ the dress, is no bad foundation for

judging. If this be careless, and slovenly, if it do not fit

properly,--no matter for its _mean quality_; mean as it may be, it may

be neatly and trimly put on--if it be slovenly put on, I say, take care

of yourself; for, you will soon find to your cost, that a sloven in one

thing, is a sloven in all things. The plainer people, judge greatly

from the state of the covering of the ankles; and, if that be not clean

and tight, they conclude that the rest is not as it ought to be. Look

at the shoes! If they be trodden on one side, loose on the foot, or run

down at the heel, it is a very bad _sign_; and as to going _slipshod_,

though at coming down in the morning, and even before daylight, make up

your mind to a rope, rather than live with a slipshod woman.

How much do women lose by inattention to these matters! Men, in

general, say nothing about it to their wives, but they _think_ about

it; they envy their more lucky neighbors, and in numerous cases,

consequences the most serious arise from this apparently trifling

cause. Beauty is valuable; it is one of the _ties_, and a _strong_ one

too; but it cannot last to old age; whereas the charm of cleanliness

never ends but with life itself. It has been said that the sweetest

flowers, when they really become putrid, are the most offensive. So the

most beautiful woman, if found with an uncleansed skin, is, in my

estimation, the most disagreeable.

11. A GOOD TEMPER.

This is a very difficult thing to ascertain beforehand. Smiles are

cheap; they are easily put on for the occasion; and, besides, the

frowns are, according to the lover's whim, interpreted into the

contrary. By 'good temper,' I do not mean an easy temper, a serenity

which nothing disturbs; for that is a mark of laziness. Sullenness, if

you be not too blind to perceive it, is a temper to be avoided by all

means. A sullen man is bad enough; what, then, must be a sullen woman,

and that woman a _wife_; a constant inmate, a companion day and night!

Only think of the delight of setting at the same table, and occupying

the same chamber, for a week, without exchanging a word all the while!

Very bad to be scolding for such a length of time; but this is far

better than 'the _sulks_.'

But if you have your eyes, and look sharp, you will discover symptoms

of this, if it unhappily exist. She will, at some time or other, show

it towards some one or other of the family; or, perhaps, towards

yourself; and you may be quite sure that, in this respect, marriage

will not mend her. Sullenness arises from capricious displeasure not

founded in reason. The party takes offence unjustifiably; is unable to

frame a complaint, and therefore expresses displeasure by silence. The

remedy for it is, to suffer it to take its _full swing_, but it is

better not to have the disease in your house; and to be _married to

it_, is little short of madness.

_Querulousness_ is a great fault. No man, and, especially, no _woman_,

likes to hear a continual plaintiveness. That she complain, and roundly

complain, of your want of punctuality, of your coolness, of your

neglect, of your liking the company of others: these are all very well,

more especially as they are frequently but too just. But an everlasting

complaining, without rhyme or reason, is a bad sign. It shows want of

patience, and, indeed, want of sense.

But the contrary of this, a cold _indifference_, is still worse. 'When

will you come again? You can never find time to come here. You like any

company better than mine.' These, when groundless, are very teasing,

and demonstrate a disposition too full of anxiousness; but, from a girl

who always receives you with the same civil smile, lets you, at your

own good pleasure, depart with the same; and who, when you take her by

the hand, holds her cold fingers as straight as sticks, I should say,

in mercy, preserve _me_!

_Pertinacity_ is a very bad thing in anybody, and especially in a young

woman; and it is sure to increase in force with the age of the party.

To have the last word, is a poor triumph; but with some people it is a

species of disease of the mind. In a wife it must be extremely

troublesome; and, if you find an ounce of it in the maid, it will

become a pound in the wife. A fierce _disputer_ is a most disagreeable

companion; and where young women thrust their _say_ into conversations

carried on by older persons, give their opinions in a positive manner,

and court a contest of the tongue, those must be very bold men who will

encounter them as wives.

Still, of all the faults as to _temper_, your melancholy ladies have

the worst, unless you have the same mental disease yourself. Many wives

are, at times, _misery-makers_; but these carry it on as a regular

trade. They are always unhappy about something, either past, present,

or to come. Both arms full of children is a pretty efficient remedy in

most cases; but, if these ingredients be wanting, a little want, a

little _real_ trouble, a little _genuine affliction_, often will effect

a cure.

12. ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

By accomplishments, I mean those things, which are usually comprehended

in what is termed a useful and polite education. Now it is not unlikely

that the fact of my adverting to this subject so late, may lead to the

opinion that I do not set a proper estimate on this female

qualification.

But it is not so. Probably few set too high an estimate upon it. Its

_absolute_ importance has, I am confident, been seldom overrated. It is

true I do not like a _bookish_ woman better than a bookish man;

especially a great devourer of that most contemptible species of books

with whose burden the press daily groans: I mean _novels_. But mental

cultivation, and even what is called _polite_ learning, along with the

foregoing qualifications, are a most valuable acquisition, and make

every female, as well as all her associates, doubly happy. It is only

when books, and music, and a taste for the fine arts are substituted

for other and more important things, that they should be allowed to

change love or respect to disgust.

It sometimes happens, I know, that two persons are, in this respect,

pretty equally yoked. But what of that? It only makes each party

twofold more the child of misfortune than before. I have known a couple

of intelligent persons who would sit with their 'feet in the ashes,' as

it were, all day, to read some new and bewitching book, forgetting

every want of the body; perhaps even forgetting that they _had_ bodies.

Were they therefore happy, or likely to be so?

Drawing, music, embroidery, (and I might mention half a dozen other

things of the same class) where they do not exclude the more useful and

solid matters, may justly be regarded as appropriate branches of female

education; and in some circumstances and conditions of life,

indispensable. Music,--vocal and instrumental--and drawing, to a

certain extent, seem to me desirable in all. As for dancing, I do not

feel quite competent to decide. As the world is, however, I am almost

disposed to reject it altogether. At any rate, if a young lady is

accomplished in every other respect, you need not seriously regret that

she has not attended to dancing, especially as it is conducted in most

of our schools.

CHAPTER VII.

Criminal Behavior.

SECTION I. _Inconstancy and Seduction._

In nineteen cases out of twenty, of illicit conduct, there is perhaps,

no seduction at all; the passion, the absence of virtue, and the crime,

being all mutual. But there are cases of a very different description.

Where a young man goes coolly and deliberately to work, first to gain

and rivet the affections of a young lady, then to take advantage of

those affections to accomplish that which he knows must be her ruin,

and plunge her into misery for life;--when a young man does this, I say

he must be either a selfish and unfeeling brute, unworthy of the name

of man, or he must have a heart little inferior, in point of obduracy,

to that of the murderer. Let young women, however, be aware; let them

be _well_ aware, that few, indeed, are the cases in which this apology

can possibly avail them. Their character is not solely theirs, but

belongs, in part, to their family and kindred. They may, in the case

contemplated, be objects of compassion with the world; but what

contrition, what repentance, what remorse, what that even the tenderest

benevolence can suggest, is to heal the wounded hearts of humbled,

disgraced, but still affectionate parents, brethren, and sisters?

In the progress of an intimate acquaintance, should it be discovered

that there are certain traits of character in one of the parties, which

both are fully convinced will be a source of unhappiness, through life,

there _may_ be no special impropriety in separating. And yet even then

I would say, avoid haste. Better consider for an hour than repent for a

year, or for life. But let it be remembered, that before measures of

this kind are even hinted at, there must be a full conviction of their

necessity, and the mutual and hearty concurrence of both parties. Any

steps of this kind, the reasons for which are not fully understood on

both sides, and mutually satisfactory, as well as easily explicable to

those friends who have a right to inquire on the subject, are

criminal;--nay more; they are brutal.

I have alluded to _indirect_ promises of marriage, because I conceive

that the frequent opinion among young men that nothing is binding but a

direct promise, in so many words, is not only erroneous, but highly

dishonorable to those who hold it. The strongest pledges are frequently

given without the interchange of words. Actions speak louder than

words; and there is an attachment sometimes formed, and a confidence

reposed, which would be, in effect, weakened by formalities. The man

who would break a silent engagement, merely because it is a silent one,

especially when he has taken a course of conduct which he knew would be

likely to result in such engagement, and which perhaps he even

designed, is deserving of the public contempt. He is even a monster

unfit to live in decent society.

But there are such monsters on the earth's surface. There are

individuals to be found, who boast of their inhuman depredations on

those whom it ought to be their highest happiness to protect and aid,

rather than injure. They can witness, almost without emotion, the

heavings of a bosom rent with pangs which themselves have inflicted.

They can behold their unoffending victim, as unmoved as one who views a

philosophical experiment;--not expiring, it is true, but despoiled of

what is vastly dearer to her than life--her reputation. They can

witness all this, I say, without emotion, and without a single

compunction of conscience. And yet they go on, sometimes with apparent

prosperity and inward peace. At any rate, they _live_. No lightning

blasts them; no volcano pours over them its floods of lava; no

earthquake engulfs them. They are permitted to fill up the measure of

their wickedness. Perhaps they riot in ease, and become bloated with

luxury. But let this description of beings--men I am almost afraid to

call them--remember that punishment, though long deferred, cannot be

always evaded. A day of retribution must and will arrive. For though

they may not be visited by what a portion of the community call special

'judgments,' yet their punishment is not the less certain. The wretch

who can commit the crime to which I have referred, against a fellow

being, and sport with those promises, which, whether direct or

indirect, are of all things earthly among the most sacred, will not,

unless he repents, rest here. He will go on from step to step in

wickedness. He will harden himself against every sensibility to the

woes of others, till he becomes a fiend accursed, and whether on this

side of the grave, or the other, cannot but be completely miserable. A

single sin may not always break in upon habits of virtue so as to ruin

an individual at once; but the vices go in gangs, or companies. One

admitted and indulged, and the whole gang soon follow. And misery must

follow sin, at a distance more or less near, as inevitably as a stone

falls to the ground, or the needle points to the pole.

Some young men reason thus with themselves. If doubts about the future

have already risen--if my affections already begin to waver at

times--what is not to be expected after marriage? And is it not better

to separate, even without a mutual concurrence, than to make others,

perhaps many others, unhappy for life?

In reply, I would observe, in the first place, that though this is the

usual reason which is assigned in such cases, it is not generally the

true one. The fact is, the imagination is suffered to wander where it

ought not; and the affections are not guarded and restrained, and

confined to their proper object. And if there be a diminution of

attachment, it is not owing to any change in others, but in ourselves.

If our affection has become less ardent, let us look within, for the

cause. Shall others suffer for our own fault?

But, secondly, we may do much to control the affections, even after

they have begun to wander. We still seek the happiness of the object of

our choice, more, perhaps, than that of any other individual. Then let

us make it our constant study to promote it. It is a law of our

natures, as irrevocable as that of the attraction of gravitation, that

doing good to others produces love to them. And for myself I do not

believe the affections of a young man _can_ diminish towards one whose

happiness he is constantly studying to promote by every means in his

power, admitting there is no obvious change in her character. So that

no young person of principle ought ever to anticipate any such result.

Nor has a man any right to _sport_ with the affections of a young

woman, in any way whatever. Vanity is generally the tempter in this

case; a desire to be regarded as being admired by the women; a very

despicable species of vanity, but frequently greatly mischievous,

notwithstanding. You do not, indeed, actually, in so many words,

promise to marry; but the general tenor of your language and deportment

has that meaning; you know that your meaning is so understood; and if

you have not such meaning; if you be fixed by some previous engagement

with, or greater liking for another; if you know you are here sowing

the seeds of disappointment; and if you persevere, in spite of the

admonitions of conscience, you are guilty of deliberate deception,

injustice and cruelty. You make to God an ungrateful return for those

endowments which have enabled you to achieve this inglorious and

unmanly triumph; and if, as is frequently the case, you _glory_ in such

triumph, you may have person, riches, talents to excite envy; but every

just and humane man will abhor your heart.

The most direct injury against the spiritual nature of a fellow being

is, by leading him into vice. I have heard one young man, who was

entrusted six days in the week to form the immortal minds and hearts of

a score or two of his fellow beings, deliberately boast of the number

of the other sex he had misled. What can be more base? And must not a

terrible retribution await such Heaven daring miscreants? Whether they

accomplish their purposes by solicitation, by imposing on the judgment,

or by powerful compulsion, the wrong is the same, or at least of the

same nature; and nothing but timely and hearty repentance can save a

wretch of this description from punishment, either here or hereafter.

'Some tempers,' says Burgh, (for nothing can be more in point than his

own words) 'are so impotently ductile, that they can refuse nothing to

repeated solicitation. Whoever takes the advantage of such persons is

guilty of the lowest baseness. Yet nothing is more common than for the

debauched part of our sex to show their heroism by a poor triumph, over

weak, easy, thoughtless woman!--Nothing is more frequent than to hear

them boast of the ruin of that virtue, of which they ought to have been

the defenders. "Poor fool! she loved me, and therefore could refuse me

nothing."--Base coward! Dost thou boast of thy conquest over one, who,

by thy own confession, was disabled for resistance,--disabled by her

affection for thy worthless self! Does affection deserve such a return

Is superior understanding, or rather deeper craft, to be used against

thoughtless simplicity, and its shameful success to be boasted of? Dost

thou pride thyself that thou hast had art enough to decoy the harmless

lamb to thy hand, that thou mightest shed its blood?'

And yet there are such monsters as Burgh alludes to. There are just

such beings scattered up and down even the fairest portions of the

world we live in, to mar its beauty. We may hope, for the honor of

human nature, they are few. He who can bring himself to believe their

number to be as great as one in a thousand, may well be disposed to

blush

'And hang his head, to own himself a man.'

I have sometimes wished these beings--_men_ they are not--would

_reflect_, if it were but for one short moment. They will not deny the

excellency of the golden rule, of doing to others as they wish others

to do by themselves. I say they will not deny it, in theory; why then

should they despise it in practice?

Let them _think_ a moment. Let them imagine themselves in the place of

the injured party. Could this point be gained; could they be induced to

reflect long enough to see the enormity of their guilt as it really is,

or as the Father in heaven may be supposed to see it, there might be

hope in their case. Or if they find it difficult to view themselves as

the injured, let them suppose, rather, a sister or a daughter. What

seducer is so lost to all natural affection as not to have his whole

soul revolt at the bare thought of having a beloved daughter experience

the treatment which he has inflicted? Yet the being whom he has ruined

had brothers or parents; and those brothers had a sister; and those

parents a daughter!

SECTION II. _Licentiousness._

I wish it were in my power to finish my remarks in this place, without

feeling that I had made an important omission. But such is the tendency

of human nature, especially in the case of the young and ardent, to

turn the most valuable blessings conferred on man into curses,--and

poison, at their very sources, the purest streams of human

felicity,--that it will be necessary to advert briefly but plainly to

some of the most frequent forms of youthful irregularity.

Large cities and thinly settled places are the _extremes_ of social

life. Here, of course, vice will be found in its worst forms. It is

more difficult to say which extreme is worst, among _an equal number of

individuals_; but probably the city; for in the country, vice is

oftener solitary, and less frequently social; while in the city it is

not only _social_ but also _solitary_.

A well informed gentleman from New Orleans, of whose own virtue by the

way, I have not the _highest_ confidence, expressed, lately the

strongest apprehension that the whole race of young men in our cities,

of the present generation, will be ruined. Others have assured me that

in the more northern cities, the prospect is little, if any, more

favorable.

It is to be regretted that legislators have not found out the means of

abolishing those haunts in cities which might be appropriately termed

schools of licentiousness, and thus diminishing an aggregate of

temptation already sufficiently large. But the vices, like their

votaries, go in companies. Until, therefore, the various haunts of

intemperance in eating and drinking, and of gambling and stage-playing,

can be broken up, it may be considered vain to hope for the

disappearance of those sties of pollution which are their almost

inevitable results. We might as well think of drying up the channel of

a mighty river, while the fountains which feed it continue to flow as

usual.

There is now in Pennsylvania,--it seems unnecessary to name the

place--a man thirty-five years old, with all the infirmities of 'three

score and ten.' Yet his premature old age, his bending and tottering

form, wrinkled face, and hoary head, might be traced to solitary and

social _licentiousness_.

This man is not alone. There are thousands in every city who are going

the same road; some with slow and cautious steps, others with a fearful

rapidity. Thousands of youth on whom high expectations have been

placed, are already on the highway that will probably lead down to

disease and premature death.

Could the multitude of once active, sprightly, and promising young men,

whose souls detested open vice, and who, without dreaming of danger,

only found their way occasionally to a lottery office, and still more

rarely to the theatre or the gambling house, until led on step by step

they ventured down those avenues which lead to the chambers of death,

from which few ever return, and none uninjured;--could the multitudes

of such beings, which in the United States alone, (though admitted to

be the paradise of the world,) have gone down to infamy through

licentiousness, be presented to our view, at once, how would it strike

us with horror! Their very numbers would astonish us, but how much more

their appearance! I am supposing them to appear as they went to the

graves, in their bloated and disfigured faces, their emaciated and

tottering frames, bending at thirty years of age under the appearance

of three or four score; diseased externally and internally; and

positively disgusting,--not only to the eye, but to some of the other

senses.

One such monster is enough to fill the soul of those who are but

moderately virtuous with horror; what then would be the effect of

beholding thousands? In view of such a scene, is there a young man in

the world, who would not form the strongest resolution not to enter

upon a road which ends in wo so remediless?

But it should be remembered that these thousands were once the

friends--the children, the brothers,--yes, sometimes the _nearer_

relatives of _other_ thousands. They had parents, sisters, brothers;

sometimes (would it were not true) wives and infants. Suppose the young

man whom temptation solicits, were not only to behold the wretched

thousands already mentioned, but the many more thousands of dear

relatives mourning their loss;--not by death, for that were

tolerable--but by an everlasting destruction from the presence of all

purity or excellence. Would he not shrink back from the door which he

was about to enter, ashamed and aghast, and resolve in the strength of

his Creator, never more to indulge a thought of a crime so disastrous

in its consequences?

And let every one remember that the army of ruined immortals which have

been here presented to the imagination, is by no means a mere fancy

sketch. There is a day to come which will disclose a scene of which I

have given but a faint picture. For though the thousands who have thus

destroyed their own bodies and souls, with their agonized friends and

relatives, are scattered among several millions of their fellow

citizens, and, for a time, not a few of them elude the public gaze, yet

their existence is much a reality, as if they were assembled in one

place.

'All this,' it may be said, 'I have often heard, and it may be true.

But it does not apply to me. I am in no danger. You speak of a path, I

have never entered; or if I have ever done so, I have no idea of

returning to it, habitually. I know my own strength; how far to go, and

when and where to stop.'

But is there one of all the miserable, in the future world, who did not

once think the same? Is there one among the thousands who have thus

ruined themselves and those who had been as dear to them as themselves,

that did not once feel a proud consciousness that he 'knew his own

strength?' Yet now where is he?

Beware, then. Take not the first step. Nay, indulge not for an instant,

the _thought_ of a first step. Here you are safe. Every where else is

danger. Take one step, and the next is more easy; the temptation harder

to resist.

Do you call this preaching? Be it so then. I feel, and deeply too, that

your immortal minds, those gems which were created to sparkle and shine

in the firmament of heaven, are in danger of having their lustre for

ever tarnished, and their brightness everlastingly hid beneath a

thicker darkness than that which once covered the land of Egypt.

C. S. was educated by New England parents, in one of the most

flourishing of New England villages. He was all that anxious friends

could hope or desire; all that a happy community could love and esteem.

As he rose to manhood he evinced a full share of 'Yankee' activity and

enterprise. Some of the youth in the neighborhood were traders to the

southern States, and C. concluded to try his fortune among the rest.

He was furnished with two excellent horses and a wagon, and every thing

necessary to ensure success. His theatre of action was the low country

of Virginia and North Carolina, and his head-quarters, N----, whither

he used to return after an excursion of a month or six week, to spend a

few days in that dissipated village.

Young C. gradually yielded to the temptations which the place afforded.

First, he engaged in occasional 'drinking bouts,' next in gaming;

lastly, he frequented a house of ill fame. This was about the year

1819.

At the end of the year 1820, I saw him, but--now changed! The eye that

once beamed with health, and vigor, and cheerfulness, was now dimmed

and flattened. The countenance which once shone with love and good-will

to man, was pale and suspicious, or occasionally suffused with

stagnant, and sickly, and crimson streams. The teeth, which were once

as white as ivory, were now blackened by the use of poisonous medicine,

given to counteract a still more poisonous and loathsome disease. The

frame, which had once been as erect as the stately cedar of Lebanon,

was, at the early age of thirty, beginning to bend as with years. The

voice, which once spoke forth the sentiments of a soul of comparative

purity, now not unfrequently gave vent to the licentious song, the

impure jest, and the most shocking oaths, and heaven-daring impiety and

blasphemy. The hands which were once like the spirit within, were now

not unfrequently joined in the dance, with the vilest of the vile!

I looked, too, at his external circumstances Once he had friends whom

he loved to see, and from whom he was glad to hear. Now it was a matter

of indifference both to him and them whether they ever saw each other.

The hopes of parents, and especially of 'her that bare him' were laid

in the dust; and to the neighborhood of which he had once been the

pride and the ornament, he was fast becoming as if he had never been.

He had travelled first with two horses, next with one; afterward on

foot with a choice assortment of jewelry and other pedlar's wares; now

his assortment was reduced to a mere handful. He could purchase to the

value of a few dollars, take a short excursion, earn a small sum, and

return--not to a respectable house, as once,--but to the lowest of

resorts, to expend it.

Here, in 1821, I last saw him; a fair candidate for the worst

contagious diseases which occasionally infest that region, and a pretty

sure victim to the first severe attack. Or if he should even escape

these, with the certainty before him of a very short existence, at

best.

This is substantially the history of many a young man whose soul was

once as spotless as that of C. S. Would that young men knew their

strength, and their dignity; and would put forth but half the energy

that God has given them. Then they would never approach the confines of

those regions of dissipation, for when they have once entered them, the

soul and the body are often ruined forever.

There are in every city hundreds of young men--I regret to say it,--who

should heed this warning voice. _Now_ they are happily situated,

beloved, respected. They are engaged in useful and respectable

avocations, and looking forward to brighter and better scenes. Let them

beware lest there should be causes in operation, calculated to sap the

foundations of the castle which fancy's eye has builded, (and which

might even be realized); and lest their morning sun, which is now going

forth in splendor, be not shrouded in darkness ere it has yet attained

its meridian height.

Every city affords places and means of amusement, at once rational,

satisfying, and improving. Such are collections of curiosities, natural

and artificial, lectures on science, debating clubs, lyceums, &c. Then

the libraries which abound, afford a source of never ending amusement

and instruction. Let these suffice. At least, 'touch not, handle not'

that which an accumulated and often sorrowful experience has shown to

be accursed.

Neither resort to _solitary_ vice. If this practice should not injure

your system immediately, it will in the end. I am sorry to be obliged

to advert to this subject; but I know there is occasion. Youth,

especially those who lead a confined life, seek occasional excitement.

Such sometimes resort to this lowest,--I may say most destructive of

practices. Such is the constitution of things, as the Author of Nature

has established it, that if every other vicious act were to escape its

merited punishment in this world, the one in question could not.

Whatever its votaries may think, it never fails, in a single instance,

to injure them, personally; and consequently their posterity, should

any succeed them.

It is not indeed true that the foregoing vices do of themselves,

produce all this mischief _directly_; but as Dr. Paley has well said,

_criminal intercourse_ 'corrupts and _depraves the mind_ more than any

single vice whatsoever.' It gradually benumbs the conscience, and leads

on, step by step, to those blacker vices at which the youth would once

have shuddered.

But debasing as this vice is, it is scarcely more so than solitary

gratification. The former is not always at hand; is attended, it may

be, with expense; and with more or less danger of exposure. But the

latter is practicable whenever temptation or rather imagination

solicits, and appears to the morbid eye of sense, to be attended with

no hazard. Alas! what a sad mistake is made here! It is a fact well

established by medical men, that every error on this point is

injurious; and that the constitution is often more surely or more

effectually impaired by causes which do not appear to injure it in the

least, than by occasional and heavier shocks, which rouse it to a

reaction. The one case may be compared to daily _tippling_, the other

to those _periodical_ drunken frolics, which, having an interval of

weeks or months between them, give the system time to recover, in part,

(but _in part only_) from the violence it had sustained.

I wish to put the younger portion of my readers upon their guard

against a set of wretches who take pains to initiate youth, while yet

almost children, into the practice of the vice to which I have here

adverted. Domestics--where the young are too familiar with them--_have_

been known to be thus ungrateful to their employers. There are,

however, people of several classes, who do not hesitate to mislead, in

this manner.

But the misfortune is, that this book will not be apt to fall into the

hands of those to whom _these_ remarks apply, till the ruinous habit is

already formed. And then it is that counsel sometimes comes too late.

Should these pages meet the eye of any who have been misled, let them

remember that they have begun a career which multitudes repent

bitterly; and from which few are apt to return. But there have been

instances of reform; therefore none ought to despair. 'What man has

done, man may do.'

They should first set before their minds the nature of the practice,

and the evils to which it exposes. But here comes the difficulty. What

_are_ its legitimate evils? They know indeed that the written laws of

God condemn it; but the punishment which those laws threaten, appears

to be remote and uncertain. Or if not, they are apt to regard it as the

punishment of _excess_, merely. _They_, prudent souls, would not, for

the world, plunge into excess. Besides, '_they_ injure none but

_themselves_,' they tell us.

Would it were true that they injured none but _themselves_! Would there

were no generations yet unborn to suffer by inheriting feeble

constitutions, or actual disease, from their progenitors!

Suppose, however, they really injured nobody but themselves. Have they

a right to do even this? They will not maintain, for one moment, that

they have a right to take away their own life. By what right, then, do

they allow themselves to shorten it, or diminish its happiness while it

lasts?

Here the question recurs again: _Does_ solitary gratification actually

shorten life, or diminish its happiness?

The very fact that the laws of God forbid it, is an affirmative answer

to this question. For nothing is more obvious than that all other vices

which that law condemns, stand in the way of our present happiness, as

well as the happiness of futurity. Is this alone an exception to the

general rule?

But I need not make my appeal to this kind of authority. You rely on

human testimony. You believe a thousand things which yourselves never

saw or heard. _Why_ do you believe them, _except_ upon testimony--I

mean given either verbally, or, what is the same thing, in books?

Now if the accumulated testimony of medical writers from the days of

Galen, and Celsus, and Hippocrates, to the present hour, could have any

weight with you, it would settle the point at once. I have collected,

briefly, the results of medical testimony on this subject, in the next

chapter; but if you will take my statements for the present, I will

assure you that I _have before me_ documents enough to fill half a

volume like this, from those who have studied deeply these subjects,

whose united language is, that the practice in question, indulged in

_any degree_, is destructive to body and mind; and that although, in

vigorous young men, no striking evil may for some time appear, yet the

punishment can no more be _evaded_, except by early death, than the

motion of the earth can be hindered. And all this, too, without taking

into consideration the terrors of a judgment to come.

But why, then, some may ask, are animal propensities given us, if they

are not to be indulged? The appropriate reply is, they _are_ to be

indulged; but it is only in accordance with the laws of God; never

otherwise. And the wisdom of these laws, did they not rest on other and

better proof, is amply confirmed by that great body of medical

experience already mentioned. God has delegated to man, a sort of

_subcreative_ power to perpetuate his own race. Such a wonderful work

required a wonderful apparatus. And such is furnished. The texture of

the organs for this purpose is of the most tender and delicate kind,

scarcely equalled by that of the eye, and quite as readily injured; and

this fact ought to be known, and considered. But instead of leaving to

human choice or caprice the execution of the power thus delegated, the

great Creator has made it a matter of _duty_; and has connected with

the lawful discharge of that duty, as with all others, _enjoyment_. But

when this enjoyment is sought in any way, not in accordance with the

laws prescribed by reason and revelation, we diminish (whatever giddy

youth may suppose,) the sum total of our own happiness. Now this is not

the cold speculation of age, or monkish austerity. It is sober matter

of fact.

It is said that young men are sometimes in circumstances which forbid

their conforming to these laws, were they disposed to do so.

Not so often however, as is commonly supposed. Marriage is not such a

mountain of difficulty as many imagine. This I have already attempted

to show. One circumstance to be considered, in connection with this

subject, is, that in any society, the more there is of criminal

indulgence, whether secret or social, the more strongly are excuses for

neglecting matrimony urged. Every step which a young man takes in

forbidden paths, affords him a plea in behalf of the next. The farther

he goes, the less the probability of his returning to the ways of

purity, or entering those of domestic felicity.

People in such places as London and Paris, marry much later in life,

upon the average, than in country places. And is not the cause obvious?

And is not the same cause beginning to produce similar effects in our

own American cities?

But suppose celibacy in some cases, to _be_ unavoidable, can a life of

continence, in the fullest sense of the term, be favorable to _health_?

This question is answered by those to whose writings I have already

referred, in the affirmative. But it is also answered by facts, though

from the nature of the case these facts are not always easy of access.

We have good reason to believe that Sir Isaac Newton and Dr.

Fothergill, never for once in their lives deviated from the strict laws

of rectitude on this point. And we have no evidence that they were

sufferers for their rigid course of virtue. The former certainly

enjoyed a measure of health and reached an age, to which few, in any

circumstances, attain; and the latter led an active and useful life to

nearly three-score and ten. There are living examples of the same

purity of character, but they cannot, of course, be mentioned in this

work.

Several erroneous views in regard to the animal economy which have led

to the very general opinion that a life of celibacy--strictly so, I

mean--cannot be a life of health, might here be exposed, did either the

limits or the nature of the work permit. It is not that a state of

celibacy--entirely so, I always mean--is positively _injurious_; but

that a state of matrimony is more _useful_; and, as a general rule,

attended with _more happiness_.

It is most ardently to be hoped, that the day is not far distant when

every young man will study the laws and functions of the human frame

for himself. This would do more towards promoting individual purity and

public happiness, than all the reasoning in the world can accomplish

without it. Men, old or young, must see for themselves how 'fearfully'

as well as 'wonderfully' they are made, before they can have a thorough

and abiding conviction of the nature of _disobedience_, or of the

penalties that attend, as well as follow it. And in proportion, as the

subject is studied and understood, may we not hope celibacy will become

less frequent, and marriage--honorable, and, if you please, _early_

marriage--be more highly estimated?

This work is not addressed to parents; but should it be read by any who

have sons, at an age, and in circumstances, which expose them to

temptation, and in a way which will be very apt to secure their fall,

let them beware.[14]

Still, the matter must be finally decided by the young themselves.

They, in short, must determine the question whether they will rise in

the scale of being, through every period of their existence, or sink

lower and lower in the depths of degradation and wo. They must be,

after all, the arbiters of their own fate. No influences, human or

divine, will ever _force_ them to happiness.

The remainder of this section will be devoted to remarks on the causes

which operate to form licentious feelings and habits in the young. My

limits, however, will permit me to do little more than mention them.

And if some of them might be addressed with more force to parents than

to young men, let it be remembered that the young _may be_ parents, and

if they cannot recall the past, and correct the errors in their own

education, they can, at least, hope to prevent the same errors in the

education of others.

[14] Parents who _inform_ their children on this subject,

generally begin too late. Familiar conversational explanation,

begun as soon as there is reason to apprehend danger, and

judiciously pursued, is perhaps the most successful method of

preventing evil.

1. FALSE DELICACY.

Too much of real delicacy can never be inculcated; but in our early

management, we seem to implant the _false_, instead of the true. The

language we use, in answering the curious questions of children, often

leads to erroneous associations of ideas; and it is much better to be

silent. By the falsehoods which we think it necessary to tell, we often

excite still greater curiosity, instead of satisfying that which

already exists. I will not undertake to decide what ought to be done;

but _silence_, I am certain, would be far better than falsehood.

There is another error, which is laid deeper still, because it begins

earlier. I refer to the half Mohammedan practice of separating the two

sexes at school. This practice, I am aware has strong advocates; but it

seems to me they cannot have watched closely the early operations of

their own minds, and observed how curiosity was awakened, and wanton

imaginations fostered by distance, and apparent and needless reserve.

2. LICENTIOUS BOOKS, PICTURES, &C.

This unnatural reserve, and the still more unnatural falsehoods already

mentioned, prepare the youthful mind for the reception of any thing

which has the semblance of information on the points to which curiosity

is directed. And now comes the danger. The world abounds in impure

publications, which almost all children, (boys especially,) at sometime

or other, contrive to get hold of, in spite of parental vigilance. If

these books contained truth, and nothing but truth, their clandestine

circulation would do less mischief. But they generally impart very

little information which is really valuable; on the contrary they

contain much falsehood; especially when they profess to instruct on

certain important subjects. Let me repeat it then, they cannot be

relied on; and in the language of another book, on another subject; 'He

that trusteth' to them, 'is a fool.'

The same remarks might be extended, and with even more justice, to

licentious paintings and engravings, which circulate in various ways.

And I am sorry to include in this charge not a few which are publicly

exhibited for sale, in the windows of our shops. You may sometimes find

obscene pictures under cover of a watch-case or snuff box. In short,

there would often seem to be a general combination of human and

infernal efforts to render the juvenile thoughts and affections impure;

and not a few parents themselves enter into the horrible league.

On this subject Dr. Dwight remarks; 'The numbers of the poet, the

delightful melody of song, the fascination of the chisel, and the spell

of the pencil, have been all volunteered in the service of Satan for

the moral destruction of unhappy man. To finish this work of malignity

the stage has lent all its splendid apparatus of mischief; the shop has

been converted into a show-box of temptations; and its owner into a

pander of iniquity.' And in another place; 'Genius, in every age, and

in every country, has, to a great extent, prostituted its elevated

powers for the deplorable purpose of seducing thoughtless minds to

_this sin_.' Are these remarks too sweeping? In my own opinion, not at

all. Let him, who doubts, take a careful survey of the whole of this

dangerous ground.

3. OBSCENE AND IMPROPER SONGS.

The prostitution of the melody of song, mentioned by Dr. Dwight,

reminds me of another serious evil. Many persons, and even not a few

intelligent parents, seem to think that a loose or immoral song cannot

much injure their children, especially if they express their

disapprobation of it afterwards. As if the language of the tongue could

give the lie to the language of the heart, already written, and often

deeply, in the eye and countenance. For it is notorious that a

considerable proportion of parents tolerate songs containing very

improper sentiments, and hear them with obvious interest, how much

soever they may wish their children to have a better and purer taste.

The common 'love songs' are little better than those already mentioned.

It is painful to think what errors on this subject are sometimes

tolerated even by decent society. I knew a schoolmaster who did not

hesitate to join occasional parties, (embracing, among others,

professedly Christian parents,) for the purpose of spending his long

winter evenings, in hearing songs from a very immoral individual, not a

few of which were adapted to the most corrupt taste, and unfit to be

heard in good society. Yet the community in which he taught was deemed

a religious community; and the teacher himself prayed in his school,

morning and evening! Others I have known to conduct even worse, though

perhaps not quite so openly.

I mention these things, not to reproach teachers,--for I think their

moral character, in this country, generally, far better than their

intellectual,--but as a specimen of perversion in the public sentiment;

and also as a hint to all who have the care of the young. Pupils at

school, cannot fail to make correct inferences from such facts as the

foregoing.

4. DOUBLE ENTENDRES.[15]

By this is meant seemingly _decent speeches, with double meanings_. I

mention these because they prevail, in some parts of the country, to a

most alarming degree; and because parents seem to regard them as

perfectly harmless. Shall I say--to show the extent of the evil--that

they are sometimes heard from both parents? Now no serious observer of

human life and conduct can doubt that by every species of impure

language, whether in the form of hints, innuendoes, double entendres,

or plainer speech, impure thoughts are awakened, a licentious

imagination inflamed, and licentious purposes formed, which would

otherwise never have existed. Of all such things an inspired writer has

long ago said--and the language is still applicable;--'Let them not be

so much as named among you.'

I have been in families where these loose insinuations, and coarse

innuendoes were so common, that the presence of respectable company

scarcely operated as a restraint upon the unbridled tongues, even of

the parents! Many of these things had been repeated so often, and under

such circumstances that the children, at a very early age, perfectly

understood their meaning and import. Yet had these very same children

asked for direct information, at this time, on the subjects which had

been rendered familiar to them thus incidentally, the parents would

have startled; and would undoubtedly have repeated to them part of a

string of falsehoods, with which they had been in the habit of

attempting to 'cover up' these matters; though with the effect, in the

end, of rendering the children only so much the more curious and

inquisitive.

But this is not all. The filling of the juvenile mind, long before

nature brings the body to maturity, with impure imaginations, not only

preoccupies the ground which is greatly needed for something else, and

fills it with shoots of a noxious growth, but actually induces, if I

may so say, a _precocious maturity_. What I mean, is, that there arises

a morbid or diseased state of action of the vessels of the sexual

system, which paves the way for premature physical developement, and

greatly increases the danger of youthful irregularity.

[15] Pronounced _entaunders_.

5. EVENING PARTIES.

One prolific source of licentious feeling and action may be found, I

think, in evening parties, especially when protracted to a late hour.

It has always appeared to me that the injury to health which either

directly or indirectly grows out of evening parties, was a sufficient

objection to their recurrence, especially when the assembly is crowded,

the room greatly heated, or when music and dancing are the

accompaniments. Not a few young ladies, who after perspiring freely at

the latter exercise, go out into the damp night air, in a thin dress,

contract consumption; and both sexes are very much exposed, in this

way, to colds, rheumatisms, and fevers.

But the great danger, after all, is to reputation and morals. Think of

a group of one hundred young ladies and gentlemen assembling at

evening, and under cover of the darkness, joining in conclave, and

heating themselves with exercise and refreshments of an exciting

nature, such as coffee, tea, wine, &c, and in some parts of our country

with diluted distilled spirit; and 'keeping up the steam,' as it is

sometimes called, till twelve or one o'clock, and frequently during the

greater part of the night. For what kind and degree of _vice_, do not

such scenes prepare those who are concerned in them?

Nothing which is here said is intended to be levelled against dancing,

in itself considered; but only against such a use, or rather _abuse_ of

it as is made to inflame and feed impure imaginations and bad passions.

On the subject of dancing as an amusement, I have already spoken in

another part of the work.

I have often wondered why the strange opinion has come to prevail,

especially among the industrious yeomanry of the interior of our

country, that it is economical to turn night into day, in this manner.

Because they cannot very well spare their sons or apprentices in the

daytime, as they suppose, they suffer them to go abroad in the evening,

and perhaps to be out all night, when it may justly be questioned

whether the loss of energy which they sustain does not result in a loss

of effort during one or two subsequent days, at least equal to the

waste of a whole afternoon. I am fully convinced, on my own part, that

he who should give up to his son or hired laborer an afternoon, would

actually lose a less amount of labor, taking the week together, than he

who should only give up for this purpose the hours which nature

intended should be spent in sleep.

But--I repeat it--the moral evil outweighs all other considerations. It

needs not an experience of thirty years, nor even of twenty, to

convince even a careless observer that no small number of our youth of

both sexes, have, through the influence of late evening parties, gone

down to the chambers of drunkenness and debauchery; and, with the young

man mentioned by Solomon, descended through them to those of death and

hell.

It may be worth while for those sober minded and, otherwise, judicious

Christians, who are in the habit of attending fashionable parties at

late hours, and taking their 'refreshments,' to consider whether they

may not be a means of keeping up, by their example, those more vulgar

assemblies, with all their grossness, which I have been describing. Is

it not obvious that what the _wine_, and the fruit, and the oysters,

are to the more refined and Christian circles, wine and fermented

liquors may be to the more blunt sensibilities of body and mind, in

youthful circles of another description? But if so, where rests the

guilt? Or shall we bless the fountains, while we curse the stream they

form?

SECTION III. _Diseases of Licentiousness_.

The importance of this and the foregoing section will be differently

estimated by different individuals. They were not inserted, however,

without consideration, nor without the approbation of persons who enjoy

a large measure of public confidence. The young ought at least to know,

briefly, to what a formidable host of maladies secret vice is exposed.

1. _Insanity._ The records of hospitals show that insanity, from

solitary indulgence, is common. Tissot, Esquirol, Eberle, and others,

give ample testimony on this point. The latter, from a careful

examination of the facts, assures us that in Paris the proportion of

insane persons whose diseases may be traced to the source in question,

is _one_ in from _fifty-one_ to _fifty-eight_, in the _lower classes_.

In the higher classes it is _one_ in _twenty-three_. In the insane

Hospital of Massachusetts--I have it from authority which I cannot

question,--the proportion is at least one in three or four. At present

there are about twenty cases of the kind alluded to.

2. _Chorea Sancti Viti_; or _St. Vitus's dance_. This strange disease,

in which the muscles of the body are not always at the command of the

patient, and in which the head, the arms, the legs, and indeed every

part which is made for muscular motion often jerks about in a very

singular manner, is sometimes produced in the same way. Insanity and

this disease are occasionally combined. I have known one young man in

this terrible condition, and have read authentic accounts of others.

3. _Epilepsy._ Epileptic or _falling sickness fits_, as they are

sometimes denominated, are another very common scourge of secret vice.

How much they are to be dreaded almost every one can judge; for there

are few who have not seen those who are afflicted with them. They

usually weaken the mind, and sometimes entirely destroy it. I knew one

epileptic individual who used to dread them more than death; and would

gladly have preferred the latter.

4. _Idiotism._ Epilepsy, as I have already intimated, often runs on to

idiotism; but sometimes the miserable young man becomes an idiot,

without the intervention of any other obvious disease.

5. _Paralysis_ or _Palsy_, is no uncommon punishment of this

transgression. There are, however, several forms of this disease.

Sometimes, a slight numbness of a single toe or finger is the first

symptom of its approach; but at others a whole hand, arm, or leg is

affected. In the present case, the first attacks are not very violent,

as if to give the offender opportunity to return to the path of

rectitude. Few, however, take the hint and return, till the chains of

their slavery are riveted, and their health destroyed by this or some

other form of disease. I have seen dissipated young men who complained

of the numbness of a finger or two and the corresponding portion of the

hand and wrist, who probably did not themselves suspect the cause; but

I never knew the disorder permanently removed, except by a removal of

the cause which produced it.

6. _Apoplexy._ This has occasionally happened; though more rarely.

7. _Blindness_, in some of its forms, especially of that form usually

called _gutta serena_, should also be added to our dark catalogue.

Indeed a weakness of sight is among the first symptoms that supervene

on these occasions.

8. _Hypochondria._ This is as much a disease by itself as the small

pox, though many regard it otherwise. The mind is diseased, and the

individual has many imaginary sufferings, it is true; but the

imagination would not be thus unnaturally awake, if there were no

accompanying disturbance in the bodily functions. Hypochondria, in its

more aggravated forms, is a very common result of secret vice.

9. _Phthisis_, or consumption, is still more frequently produced by the

cause we are considering, than any other disease I have mentioned. And

we know well the history of this disease; that, though slow in its

progress, the event is certain. In this climate, it is one of the most

destructive scourges of our race. If the ordinary diseases slay their

thousands, consumption slays its tens of thousands. Its approach is

gradual, and often unsuspected; and the decline to the grave sometimes

unattended by any considerable suffering. Is it not madness to expose

ourselves to its attacks for the shortlived gratifications of a moment?

There is indeed a peculiar form of this disease which, in the case in

question, is more commonly produced than any other. It is called, in

the language of physicians, _tabes dorsalis_, or _dorsal_ consumption;

because it is supposed to arise from the _dorsal_ portion of the spinal

marrow. This disease sometimes, it is true, attacks young married

people, especially where they go _beyond_ the bounds which the Author

of nature intended; and it is occasionally produced by other causes

entirely different; causes, too, which it would be difficult, if not

impossible to prevent. Generally, however, it is produced by _solitary

vice_.

The most striking symptom of this disease is described as being a

'sensation of ants, crawling from the head down along the spine;' but

this sensation is not always felt, for sometimes in its stead there is,

rather, a very great weakness of the small part of the back, attended

with pain. This is accompanied with emaciation, and occasionally,

though not always, with an irregular appetite. Indeed, persons affected

with this disease generally have a good appetite. There is usually

little fever, or at most only a slight heat and thirst towards evening,

with occasional flushings of the face; and still more rarely, profuse

perspirations in the latter part of the night. But the latter symptom

belongs more properly to common consumption. The sight, as I have

already mentioned, grows dim; they have pains in the head and sometimes

ringing in the ears, and a loss of memory. Finally, the legs become

weak, the kidneys and stomach suffer, and many other difficulties arise

which I cannot mention in this work, followed often by an acute fever;

and unless the abominable practice which produced all the mischief is

abandoned, death follows. But when many of the symptoms which I have

mentioned, are really fastened upon an individual, he has sustained an

injury which can never be wholly repaired. All he can hope is to

prolong his days, and lengthen out his life--often a distressing one. A

few well authenticated examples of persons who debased themselves by

secret vice, will, I hope, satisfy those who doubt the evils of this

practice.

One young man thus expressed his sufferings to his physician. 'My very

great debility renders the performance of every motion difficult. That

of my legs is often so great, that I can scarcely stand erect; and I

fear to leave my chamber. Digestion is so imperfect that the food

passes unchanged, three or four hours after it has been taken into the

stomach. I am oppressed with phlegm, the presence of which causes pain;

and the expectoration, exhaustion. This is a brief history of my

miseries. Each day brings with it an increase of all my woes. Nor do I

believe that any human creature ever suffered more. Without a special

interposition of Divine Providence, I cannot support so painful an

existence.'

Another thus writes; 'Were I not restrained by _sentiments_ of

_religion_,[16] I should ere this have put an end to my existence;

which is the more insupportable as it is caused by myself.'

'I cannot walk two hundred paces,' says another 'without resting

myself; my feebleness is extreme; I have constant pains in every part

of the body, but particularly in the shoulders and chest. My appetite

is good, but this is a misfortune, since what I eat causes pains in my

stomach, and is vomited up. If I read a page or two, my eyes are filled

with tears and become painful:--I often sigh involuntarily.'

A fourth says; 'I rest badly at night, and am much troubled with

dreams. The lower part of my back is weak, my eyes are often painful,

and my eyelids swelled and red. I have an almost constant cold; and an

oppression at the stomach. In short, I had rather be laid in the silent

tomb, and encounter that dreadful uncertainty, _hereafter_, than remain

in my present unhappy and degraded situation.'

The reader should remember that the persons whose miseries are here

described, were generally sufferers from _hypochondria_. They had not

advanced to the still more horrid stages of palsy, apoplexy, epilepsy,

idiotism, St. Vitus's dance, blindness, or insanity. But they had gone

so far, that another step in the same path, might have rendered a

return impossible.

The reader will spare me the pain of presenting, in detail, any more of

these horrid cases. I write for YOUNG MEN, the strength--the bone,

muscle, sinew, and nerve--of our beloved country. I write for those

who,--though some of them may have erred--are glad to be advised, and

if they deem the advice good, are anxious to follow it. I write, too,

in vain, if it be not for young men who will resolve on reformation,

when they believe that their present and future happiness is at stake.

And, lastly, I have not read correctly the pages in the book of human

nature if I do not write for those who can, with God's help, keep every

good resolution.

There are a few publications to which those who are awake to the

importance of this subject, might safely be directed. One or two will

be mentioned presently. It is true that their authors have, in some

instances, given us the details of such cases of disease as occur but

rarely. Still, what has happened, in this respect, may happen again.

And as no moderate drinker of fermented or spirituous liquors can ever

know, with certainty, that if he continues his habit, he may not

finally arrive at confirmed drunkenness, and the worst diseases which

attend it, so no person who departs but once from rectitude in the

matter before us, has any assurance that he shall not sooner or later

suffer all the evils which they so faithfully describe.

When a young man, who is pursuing an unhappy course of solitary vice,

threatened as we have seen by the severest penalties earth or heaven

can impose,--begins to perceive a loss or irregularity of his appetite;

acute pains in his stomach, especially during digestion, and constant

vomitings;--when to this is added a weakness of the lungs, often

attended by a dry cough, hoarse weak voice, and hurried or difficult

breathing after using considerable exertion, with a general relaxation

of the nervous system;--when these appearances, or symptoms, as

physicians call them, take place--let him _beware_! for punishment of a

severer kind cannot be distant.

I hope I shall have no reader to whom these remarks apply; but should

it be otherwise, happy will it be for him if he takes the alarm, and

walks not another step in the downward road to certain and terrible

retribution. Happiest, however, is he who has never erred from the

first; and who reads these pages as he reads of those awful scenes in

nature,--the devastations of the lightning, the deluge, the tornado,

the earthquake, and the volcano; as things to be lamented, and their

horrors if possible mitigated or averted, but with which he has little

personal concern.

Sympathizing, however, with his fellow beings--for though _fallen_,

they still belong to the same family--should any reader who sees this

work, wish to examine the subject still more intimately, I recommend to

him a Lecture to Young Men, lately published in Providence. I would

also refer him, to Rees' Cyclopedia, art. _Physical Education_.

The article last referred to is so excellent, that I have decided on

introducing, in this place, the closing paragraph. The writer had been

treating the subject, much in the manner I have done, only at greater

length, and had enumerated the diseases to which it leads, at the same

time insisting on the importance of informing the young, in a proper

manner, of their danger, wherever the urgency of the case required it.

After quoting numerous passages of Scripture, which, in speaking of

impurity, evidently include this practice, and denouncing it in severe

terms, he closes with the following striking remarks.

'There can be no doubt that God has forbidden it by the usual course of

providence. Its moral effects, in destroying the purity of the mind, in

swallowing up its best affections, and perverting its sensibilities

into this depraved channel, are among its most injurious consequences;

and are what render it so peculiarly difficult to eradicate the evil.

In proportion as the habit strengthens the difficulty of breaking it,

of course, increases; and while the tendency of the feelings to this

point increases, the vigor of the mind to effect the conquest of the

habit gradually lessens.

'We would tell him (the misguided young man) that whatever might be

said in newspapers respecting the power of medicine in such cases,

nothing could be done without absolute self-control; and that no

medicine whatever could retrieve the mischiefs which the want of it had

caused: and that the longer the practice was continued, the greater

would be the bodily and mental evils it would inevitably occasion.

'We would then advise him to avoid all situations in which he found his

propensities excited; and especially, as far as possible, all in which

they had been gratified; to check the thoughts and images which excited

them; to shun those associates, or at least that conversation, and

those books, which have the same effect; to avoid all stimulating food

and liquor; to sleep cool on a hard bed; to rise early, and at once;

and to go to bed when likely to fall asleep at once; to let his mind be

constantly occupied, though not exerted to excess; and to let his

bodily powers be actively employed, every day, to a degree which will

make a hard bed the place of sound repose.

'Above all, we would urge him to impress his mind (at times when the

mere thought of it would not do him harm) with a feeling of horror at

the practice; to dwell upon its sinfulness and most injurious effects;

and to cultivate, by every possible means, an habitual sense of the

constant presence of a holy and heart-searching God, and a lively

conviction of the awful effects of his displeasure.'

I should be sorry to leave an impression on any mind that other forms

of licentiousness are innocent, or that they entail no evils on the

constitution. I have endeavored to strike most forcibly, it is true, at

solitary vice; but it was for this plain reason, that few of the young

seem to regard it as any crime at all. Some even consider it

indispensable to health. This belief I have endeavored to shake; with

how much success, eternity only can determine.

Of the guilt of those forms of irregularity, in which _more_ than one

individual and sex are _necessarily_ concerned, many of the young are

already apprized. At least they are generally acquainted with the more

prominent evils which result from what they call excess. Still if

followed in what they deem moderation, and with certain precautions

which could be named, not a few are ready to believe, at least in the

moment of temptation, that there is no great harm in following their

inclinations.

Now in regard to what constitutes excess, every one who is not moved by

Christian principle, will of necessity, have his own standard, just as

it is in regard to solitary vice, or the use of ardent spirits. And

herein consists a part of the guilt. And it is not till this conviction

of our constant tendency to establish an incorrect standard for

ourselves, and to go, in the end, to the greatest lengths and depths

and heights of guilt, can be well established in our minds, that we

shall ever be induced to avoid the first steps in that road which may

end in destruction; and to take as the only place of safety, the high

ground of total abstinence.

But although the young are not wholly destitute of a sense of the evils

of what they call excess, and of the shame of what is well known to be

its frequent and formidable results,--so far as themselves are

concerned,--yet they seem wholly ignorant of any considerable danger

short of this. For so far are they from admitting that the force of

conscience is weakened by every repeated known and wilful

transgression, many think, (as I have already stated) promiscuous

intercourse, where no matrimonial rights are invaded, if it be so

managed as to exempt the parties immediately concerned from all

immediate suffering both moral and physical, can scarcely be called a

transgression, at all.

I wish it were practicable to extend these remarks far enough to show,

as plain as noon-day light can make it, that every criminal act of this

kind--I mean every instance of irregularity--not only produces evil to

society generally, in the present generation, but also inflicts evil on

those that follow. For to say nothing of those horrid cases where the

infants of licentious parents not only inherit vicious dispositions,

but ruined bodies--even to a degree, that in some instances excludes a

possibility of the child's surviving many days;--there are other forms

of disease often entailed on the young which as certainly consign the

sufferer to an early grave, though the passage thither may be more

tedious and lingering.

How must it wring the heart of a feeling young parent to see his first

born child, which for any thing he knows, might have been possessed of

a sound and vigorous body, like other children, enter the world with

incipient scrofula, diseased joints or bones, and eruptive diseases, in

some of their worst forms? Must not the sight sink him to the very

dust? And would he not give worlds--had he worlds to give--to reverse

those irreversible but inscrutable decrees of Heaven, which visit the

sins of parents upon their descendants--'unto the third and fourth

generation?'

But how easy is it, by timely reflection, and fixed moral principle, to

prevent much of that disease which 'worlds' cannot wholly cure, when it

is once inflicted!

I hazard nothing in saying, then--and I might appeal to the whole

medical profession to sustain me in my assertion--that no person whose

system ever suffers, once, from those forms of disease which approach

nearest to the character of special judgments of Heaven on sin or

shame, can be sure of ever wholly recovering from their effects on his

own person; and what is still worse, can ever be sure of being the

parent of a child whose constitution shall be wholly untainted with

disease, of one kind or another.

This matter is not often understood by the community generally;

especially by the young. I might tell them of the diseased eyesight;

the ulcerated--perhaps deformed--nose and ears, and neck; the

discoloration, decay, and loss of teeth; the destruction of the palate,

and the fearful inroads of disease on many other soft parts of the

body; besides the softening and ulceration and decay and eventual

destruction of the bones; and to crown all, the awfully offensive

breath and perspiration; and I might entreat them to abstain, in the

fear of God, from those abuses of the constitution which not

unfrequently bring down upon them such severe forms of punishment.

A thorough knowledge of the human system and the laws to which all

organized bodies are subjected, would, in this respect, do much in

behalf of mankind; for such would be the change of public sentiment,

that the sensual could not hold up their heads so boldly, as they now

do, in the face of it. Happy for mankind when the vicious shall be

obliged, universally, to pass in review before this enlightened

tribunal!

Young men ought to study physiology. It is indeed to be regretted that

there are so few books on this subject adapted to popular use. But in

addition to those recommended at page 346, there are portions of

several works which may be read with advantage by the young. Such are

some of the more intelligible parts of Richerand's Physiology, as at

page 38 of the edition with Dr. Chapman's notes; and of the 'Outlines

of Physiology,' and the 'Anatomical Class Book,' two works recently

issued in Boston. It must, however, be confessed, that none of these

works are sufficiently divested of technicalities, to be well adapted,

as a whole, to the general reader. Physiology is one of those fountains

at which it is somewhat dangerous to 'taste,' unless we 'drink deep;'

on account of the tendency of superficial knowledge to empiricism.

Still, I am fully of the opinion that even superficial knowledge, on

this long neglected topic, is less dangerous both to the individual and

to the community, than entire ignorance.

And after all, the best guides would be PARENTS. When will Heaven

confer such favors upon us? When will parents become parents indeed?

When will one father or mother in a hundred, exercise the true parental

prerogative, and point out to those whom God has given them, as

circumstances may from time to time demand, the most dangerous rocks

and whirlpools to which, in the voyage of life, they are exposed? When

will every thing else be done for the young rather than that which

ought never to be left undone?

Say not, young reader, that I am wandering. You may be a father. God

grant that if you are, you may also act the parent. Let me beg you to

resolve, and if necessary re-resolve. And not only resolve, but act. If

you are ready to pronounce me enthusiastic on this subject, let me beg

you to suspend your judgment till the responsibilities and the duties

and the anxieties of a parent thicken round you.

It is painful to see--every where--the most unquestionable evidence

that this department of education is unheeded. Do you ask how the

evidence is obtained? I answer by asking you how the physician can

discover,--as undoubtedly he can,--the progress of the drinker of

spirituous liquors, by his eye, his features, his breath, nay his very

perspiration. And do you think that the sons or daughters of

sensuality, in any of its forms, and at any of its stages, can escape

his observation?

But of what use is his knowledge, if he may not communicate it? What

person would endure disclosures of this kind respecting himself or his

nearest, perhaps his dearest and most valued friends? No! the

physician's lips must be sealed, and his tongue dumb; and the young

must go down to their graves, rather than permit him to make any effort

to save them, lest offence should be given!

The subject is, however, gaining a hold on the community, for which

none of us can be too thankful. I am acquainted with more than one

parent, who is a parent indeed; for there is no more reserve on these

subjects, than any other. The sons do not hesitate to ask parental

counsel and seek parental aid, in every known path of temptation.

Heaven grant that such instances may be speedily multiplied. A greater

work of reform can scarcely be desired or anticipated.

But I must draw to a close. Oh that the young 'wise,' and that they

would 'consider!' 'There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but

the end thereof is death.'

There is, then, but one course for the young. Let them do that which

they know to be right, and avoid not only that which they are sure is

wrong, but that also of which they have _doubts_. Let them do this,

moreover, in the fear and love of God. In the language of a great

statesman of the United States to his nephew, a little before his

death, let me exhort you, to 'Give up property, _give up every

thing--give up even life itself, rather than presume to do an immoral

act_.' Let me remind you too, of the declaration of that Wisdom which

is Infinite;--'HE THAT SINNETH AGAINST GOD, DESTROYETH HIS OWN SOUL.'

[16] What inadequate ideas are sometimes entertained by young

professors of religion, and even by those more advanced, in

regard to the purity of character which _is_ indispensable

to the enjoyment of a world of bliss--a world whose very source,

sum, end and essence, are _Infinite_ Purity itself!

Since the first edition of this work was published, I have

received several letters of thanks for having ventured upon

this long neglected, but important subject. Teachers, especially,

have acknowledged their obligations, both in person and by

correspondence. One teacher, in particular, a man of considerable

experience, writes as follows:--

'The last chapter of the book, is by no means, in my view, the

least important. I regret to say that many _religious_ young

men, through ignorance, are attached to the last mentioned vice.

I could wish that what you have written could be carefully read

by every _young_ man, at least, in our land. Alas, dear sir,

how little do mortals know, when they do not understand their

physical structure!'

AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER.

SECTION I. _Choice of Friends._

The importance, to a young man, of a few worthy female friends, has

been mentioned in Chapter V. But to him who aspires at the highest

possible degree of improvement or usefulness, a select number of

confidential friends of his own sex is scarcely less valuable.

Great caution is however necessary in making the selection. "A man is

known by the company he keeps," has long since passed into a proverb;

so well does it accord with universal experience. And yet many a young

man neglects or despises this maxim, till his reputation is absolutely

and irretrievably lost.

Lucius was a remarkable instance of this kind. Extremely diffident, he

was introduced to a neighborhood where every individual but one was an

entire stranger to him; and this person was one whose character was

despised. But what is life without associates? Few are wholly destitute

of sympathy, even brute animals. Lucius began to be found in the

company of the young man I have mentioned; and this too in spite of the

faithful and earnest remonstrances of his friends, who foresaw the

consequences. But, like too many inexperienced young men, conscious of

his own purity of intention, he thought there could surely be no harm

in occasional walks and conversations with even a bad man; and who

knows, he sometimes used to say, but I may do him good? At any rate, as

he was the only person with whom he could hold free conversation on

"things that were past," he determined occasionally to associate with

him.

But as it is with many a young lady who has set out with the belief

that a reformed rake makes the best husband, so it was with Lucius; he

found that the work of reforming the vicious was no easy task. Instead

of making the smallest approaches to success, he perceived at last,

when it was too late, that his familiarity with young Frederick had not

only greatly lowered him in the estimation of the people with whom he

now resided, but even in the estimation of Frederick himself; who was

encouraged to pursue his vicious course, by the consideration that it

did not exclude him from the society of those who were universally

beloved and respected.

This anecdote shows how cautious we ought to be in the choice of

friends. Had Lucius been a minister or reformer by profession, he could

have gone among the vicious to reclaim them, with less danger. The

Saviour of mankind ate and drank with "publicans and sinners;" but HE

was well _known_ as going among them to save them, though even he did

not wholly escape obloquy.

Few are aware, how much they are the creatures of imitation; and how

readily they catch the manners, habits of expression, and even modes of

thinking, of those whose company they keep. Let the young remember,

then, that it is not from the remarks of others, alone, that they are

likely to suffer; but that they are _really_ lowered in the scale of

excellence, every time they come in unguarded contact with the vicious.

It is of the highest importance to seek for companions those who are

not only _intelligent_ and _virtuous_, in the common acceptation of the

term, but, if it were possible, those who are a little above them,

especially in _moral excellence_.

Nor is this so difficult a task as many suppose. There are in every

community, a few who would make valuable companions. Not that they are

perfect,--for perfection, in the more absolute sense of the term,

belongs not to humanity; but their characters are such, that they would

greatly improve yours. And remember, that it is by no means

indispensable that your circle of intimate friends be very large. Nay,

it is not even desirable, in a world like this. You may have many

acquaintances, but I should advise you to have but few near friends. If

you have one, who is what he should be, you are comparatively happy.

SECTION II. _Rudeness of Manners._

By rudeness I do not mean mere coarseness or rusticity, for that were

more pardonable; but a want of civility. In this sense of the term, I

am prepared to censure one practice, which in the section on

_Politeness_, was overlooked. I refer to the practice so common with

young men in some circumstances and places, of wearing their hats or

caps in the house;--a practice which, whenever and wherever it occurs,

is decidedly reprehensible.

Most of us have probably seen state legislatures in session with their

hats on. This does not look well for the representatives of the most

civil communities in the known world; and though I do not pretend that

in this respect they fairly represent their constituents, yet I do

maintain that the toleration of such a practice implies a dereliction

of the public sentiment.

That the practice of uncovering the head, whenever we are in the house,

tends to promote health, though true, I do not at this time affirm. It

is sufficient for my present purpose, if I succeed in showing that the

contrary practice tends to vice and immorality.

Who has not seen the rudeness of a company of men, assembled perhaps in

a bar-room--with their hats on; and also witnessed the more decent

behavior of another similar group, assembled in similar circumstances,

without perceiving at once a connection between the hats and the

rudeness of the one company, as well as between the more orderly

behavior and the uncovered heads of the other?

To come to individuals. Attend a party or concert--no matter about the

name;--I mean some place where it is pardonable, or rather _deemed_

pardonable, to wear the hat. Who behave in the most gentle, christian

manner,--the few who wear their hats or those who take them off? In a

family or school, which are the children that are most civil and well

behaved? Is it not those who are most scrupulous, always, to appear

within the house with their heads uncovered? Nay, in going out of

schools, churches, &c., who are they that put on their hats first, as

if it was a work of self-denial to hold them in their hands, or even

suffer them to remain in their place till the blessing is pronounced,

or till the proper time has arrived for using them?

Once more. In passing through New England or any other part of the

United States, entering into the houses of the people, and seeing them

just as they are, who has not been struck with the fact that where

there is the most of wearing hats and caps in the house, there is

generally the most of ill manners, not to say of vicious habits and

conduct.

Few are sufficiently aware of the influence of what they often affect

to despise as little things. But I have said enough on this point in

its proper place. The great difficulty is in carrying the principles

there inculcated into the various conditions of life, and properly

applying them.

SECTION III. _Self-praise._

Some persons are such egotists that rather than not be conspicuous,

they will even speak _ill_ of themselves. This may seem like a

contradiction; but it is nevertheless a truth.

Such conduct is explicable in two ways. Self condemnation may be merely

an attempt to extort praise from the bystanders, by leading them to

deny our statements, or defend our conduct. Or, it may be an attempt to

set ourselves off as abounding in self knowledge; a kind of knowledge

which is universally admitted to be difficult of attainment. I have

heard people condemn their past conduct in no measured terms, who would

not have borne a tithe of the same severity of remark from others.

Perhaps it is not too much to affirm that persons of this description

are often among the vainest, if not the proudest of the community.

In general, it is the best way to say as little about ourselves, our

friends, our books, and our circumstances as possible. It is soon

enough to speak of ourselves when we are compelled to do it in our own

defence.