The Young Woman's Guide

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To see woman denied, daily, by Fashion's nonsensical decrees, the pleasure which every healthy person feels in the use of his limbs, with their hundreds of muscles and tendons, and kept not only inactive, but almost secluded from air and light—who is not almost ashamed that he belongs to the same species? Yet such things are quite common among as, and they are constantly becoming more so.

CHAPTER XXI

REST AND SLEEP

Why rest and sleep are needed. Sleep a condition. We should sleep in the night. Moral tendency of not doing so. Is there any moral character in such things? Of rest without sleep. Good habits in regard to sleep. Apartments for sleep. Air. Bed. Covering. Temperature. Night clothing. Advice of Macnish on the number of persons to a bed. Preparation for sleep. Suppers. The more we indulge in sleep, the more sleep we seem to require. The reader indulged to study laws of rest and sleep. An appeal.

The moving powers of the human body are so constructed by the grand Mover of all things, that they require rest as well as action. And of the many hundreds of muscles and tendons in the living system, it is not known that there is one which could continue its action, uninterruptedly, for any considerable time, without serious injury. Even the muscular fibres of the heart rest a part of the time, between the beats and pulsations. Whether the brain—which is of course without muscular fibres—can act incessantly in the production of thought, is a question which I believe is not yet settled by meta-physicians. One thing we do know, however, which is, that if the other organs suffer for want of rest, we soon find that by the law of sympathy and otherwise, the brain and nervous system suffer along with them; and if our wakefulness is greatly protracted, they sometimes suffer very severely.

I have said that all the moving powers of the body require rest. They do; and in the young, a good deal of it. It is in vain for mankind—the young especially—to abridge their hours of sleep, whether for selfish or benevolent purposes. Sleep is made by the Creator a condition of our being and happiness; and he who complies not with this condition, is unworthy of the boon.

Sleep, moreover, should be had at the right season. It is useless to think of sleeping during the day-time, and keeping awake during the night, with impunity. For many facts are on record, showing in vivid colors the mischiefs which result, sooner or later, from thus turning day into night, and night into day. Need I present these facts? They are found, in greater or less numbers, in almost every work on health or physiology. I will present but one. It is from Valangin.

Two colonels in the French army, sometime ago, had a dispute whether it was most safe to march in the heat of the day, or in the evening. To ascertain this point, they obtained permission of the commanding officer to put their respective plans into execution. Accordingly, the one with his division marched during the day, although it was in the heat of summer, and rested all night. The other, with his men, slept in the day-time, and marched during the evening and part of the night. The result was, that the first performed a journey of six hundred miles without losing a single man or horse; while the latter lost most of his horses, and several of his men.

Of course, the inference from this, and other similar facts, is, that night is the time for sleep, and not day. Is it said that every person knows this? But every person does not practise accordingly. There are those who either do not know the fact—and not a few young women, too; may be found among the number—or who, knowing it, do not act according to their knowledge. Is it not more charitable to conclude they do not know the fact?

Franklin, indeed, once undertook to show, in his humorous way, that the inhabitants of Paris did not know that the sun gave light at its first rising. Whether they did know it or not—or whether or not they were culpable for their ignorance, provided it was voluntary—shall hold my readers to be as truly guilty of doing that wrong which is the result of their own voluntary ignorance, as if their minds were really enlightened. The young woman who goes to bed so late that she cannot wake till it has been day for some time—or who darkens her room on purpose that the day-light may not interrupt her repose when it comes—and who knows, at the same time, that it is wrong to sleep by day-light, except from the most absolute necessity—is as truly guilty, as if she slept by day-light with her windows open.

I believe the night is long enough for sleep in any latitude not higher than fifty degrees; and comparatively few of the human family reside much farther than this towards the poles.

The young woman who finds herself inclined to sleep after day-light, should resolve to break the habit as soon as possible. In order to do this, however, she should believe herself able to do it.

Here it will be rational to ask whether, after all, there is any moral character in the error, if it be one, of sitting up an hour later than usual, and then making it up by sleeping an hour after the arrival of day-light;—whether it is not a matter of propriety, merely, rather than a question of positive right or wrong in the sight of Heaven.

This question I have answered in the chapter on Conscientiousness—to which, in order to prevent repetition, I might refer the reader. If there be a sort of actions to which no character, good or bad, can justly be attached, then what did the apostle mean in requiring that whatever we do should be done to the glory of God? and where is the line to be drawn between those actions which are too small or too trifling to be worthy of having any right or wrong attached to them, and those which are not? But if every thing we do is either right or wrong, then there is a right and a wrong in regard to the particular class of actions of which I am just now treating.

The object of sleep should be to restore us, and fit us for renewed action. We may rest, to some extent, without sleep; as when we throw ourselves upon a sofa, or sit in an easy chair. Indeed, there is no hour of the day in which some portions of the moving powers are not resting, more or less. Still we cannot be wholly restored, in body and mind, without the soothing influence of

"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep."

Every young woman should regulate her habits in regard to sleep and rest—not less than all her other habits—in such a way as will tend most to the good of her whole nature and as will consequently tend most to the glory of God. In other words, every person should be governed, in this matter, by true philosophy and Christian principle. This would lead to the following axioms or conclusions, every one of which is sustained by high authority.

Apartments for sleep should, if possible, be large and airy—and not on a ground floor, or in too dark a corner of the building.

The air of the room should circulate freely; although it is not considered safe to be exposed to currents of air. To this end, the bed should be rather large and loose; and should stand out from the all, and from the corners of the room; and should be without curtains, even in the coldest weather.

The bed ought to be rather hard; but it should, at any rate, be cool. Soft, yielding feather beds, in which the body sinks deeply, are very injurious, on account of the unnatural heat and perspiration they are sure to induce. It is of little consequence what the material of your bed is, if it be light, dry and porous, and not too soft. Straw, grass, husks, hair, and a great variety of other things, have been employed. Almost any thing—I repeat it—is better than feathers. The same remarks will apply to pillows.

We should sleep with as little covering as we can, and not actually feel cold and chilly. Most persons sleep under a great deal too much clothing. We require more in cold than in warm weather. We also require more on first going to bed, than when we get fairly warm but as it usually happens that we get warm and go to sleep at nearly the same time, it follows, that the clothing which was only sufficient to warm us, remains on the bed all night. We ought not to put on so much clothing as we are apt to do when we first go to bed—and then we shall not be likely to sleep all night under too much clothing, and wake up in the morning weakened by it.

The temperature of the room must never be overlooked. It should be as cold as it can well be made, and not be absolutely uncomfortable.

One reason for this is, that the oxygen, or vital principle of the air, which is more abundant in a given volume of cool air than in an equal amount of that which is warmer, will last longer when the room is cool, and the room will thus remain free from impurity.

Another reason is, that ratified air not only contains less oxygen in a given volume, as I have already said, but also appears to admit more readily of the admixture and thorough diffusion of bad gases. The carbonic acid gas which is formed by breathing, settles the more readily towards the floor, in proportion to the general density of the atmosphere of the room; and if the bed-room be large, so that it does not accumulate in such a quantity as to rise higher than the bedstead, it is less likely to be breathed over again, than if the atmosphere were more rare.

But there is still another reason for having our bed-clothes cool—though it is substantially the same with that mentioned in a preceding paragraph for having light rooms, beds, and light covering. We are greatly debilitated by sleeping unnecessarily warm. Our vital powers should be trained to generate a good deal of heat; and what they have been trained to do, they should continue to perform. All the heat, I say, therefore, which the body will manufacture for itself, readily, it should be permitted to do. But the moment we depend, unnecessarily, on external means of warmth—as too much or too soft and warm bed clothing, and too warm an atmosphere—that moment our internal organs begin to be enervated, in a greater or less degree, whether we are sensible of it or not.

We should not sleep in the clothes we have worn during the day. This is not on account of the heat it may induce, but on account of the bad air which our clothing confines. By having extra clothes for the night, and those very few indeed, and taking a little pains with those we have worn during the day—to hang them up and air them properly—we may do much towards keeping the pores of our bodies open, and preserving the skin in a clean state, and in a condition to perform its accustomed work.

We should also avoid damp clothing about our beds or bed-rooms. A healthy person may get slightly wet in the early part of the day, and even remain wet for a short time, especially if he continues in action, without injury: but it is by no means safe to sit down, or lie down, in wet or damp clothing; and it is more unsafe to do so at the close of the day, than it is in the morning. A vast amount of disease—colds, rheumatism, fever and consumption—is generated or aggravated in this way.

What I have here said of the conditions of sleep, is sustained, as I have already informed the reader, by high authority; I mean that of Macnish. He says, further, that "the practice of having two or three beds in one room, and two or three individuals in each bed, must be deleterious;" and that wherever it is necessary for more than one person to sleep in a single bed, "they should take care to place themselves in such a position as not to breathe in each others' faces." He also alludes to the custom of covering the head with the bedclothes—and calls it, as he ought to do, "a dangerous custom."

Macnish also gives the following directions on this subject:

"Before going to bed, the body should be brought into that state, which gives us the surest chance of dropping speedily asleep. If too hot, its temperature ought to be reduced by cooling drinks, [Footnote: By cooling drinks. Macnish cannot surely mean drinks of a low temperature, for these would be somewhat injurious in the evening. He means by cooling, not heating or irritating.] exposure to the open air, sponging, or even the cold bath. If too cold, it must be brought into a comfortable state by warmth. For both cold and heat act as stimuli, and their removal is necessary before sleep can ensue.

"A full stomach, also, though it sometimes promotes, generally prevents sleep; consequently, supper ought to be dispensed with, except by those who, having been long used to this meal, cannot do without it. As a general rule, the person who eats nothing for two or three hours before going to rest, will sleep better than he who eats a late supper. His sleep will also be more refreshing; and his sensations upon awaking, much more gratifying."

The cold bath at going to bed, taken to reduce our heat, because we are too warm, is of rather doubtful utility. Some may use it with entire safety; but to the feeble, or those who have been greatly over-heated or over-fatigued, it would be hazardous.

By supper, Macnish means, no doubt, that fourth meal so common in fashionable life, and not the usual third meal at six o'clock Those who never heard of a fourth, have no occasion for caution on this subject, except it be in regard to quantity. This third meal, however, even when it is eaten three hours before going to bed, should be light.

In order to sleep properly, let all the conditions which I have mentioned be faithfully observed. Then to these let there be added a most strict and conscientious regard for the rule which I have suggested in the beginning of this chapter—which is, to rise early. Let no young woman be found in bed after day-light, in the longest days; nor in the winter, after four o'clock.

Some will say, that at this rate they should not get sleep enough during the night; and should, as a consequence, either be dull during their waking hours, or be obliged to take a nap in the day-time. But if our hard-laboring people who rise at four o'clock in the summer, find time enough to sleep—most of them—without a nap in the day-time, surely they whose labor is not so hard, can do it. They cannot, I well know, if they sit up till ten or eleven o'clock at night.

If any one desires to glorify God in every thing she does, let her attend to the conditions I have mentioned. If she finds that in rising at daylight she does not get sleep enough, let her go to bed a little earlier. We ought to sleep about as much before midnight as after; and she who goes to bed at eight, and rises at four, will be pretty sure to get sleep enough. Few if any persons over twelve years of age, need more than eight hours sleep; and the greater proportion not so much.

Here I will mention one thing which does not seem to be generally known. The more we sleep, if we increase our sleep by degrees, the more we may. How far the time for sleep may be thus extended, I do not know. There are, indeed, circumstances which may make the same individual require less or more sleep, independent of the habit of indulgence: still it is true, as a general fact, that we may sleep as much or as little as we please.

When we increase the hours of sleep, however, it does not follow that we actually sleep more in the same proportion. Let an active individual, who has been accustomed to six hours, suddenly confine herself to four. Will her actual sleep be abridged one third? By no means. Nature will endeavor to make up for the loss of time by inducing sounder sleep.

In this, however, she is only in part successful. For those who sleep so very soundly, often sleep too sound. We are sometimes conscious, when we awake from an over-sound sleep, that we are not well refreshed; but whether conscious of it or not, it is so. Macnish says—"That sleep from which we are easily roused, is the healthiest; very profound slumber partakes of the nature of apoplexy."

A person who, having been in the habit of sleeping six hours in twenty-four, suddenly reduces the number to four, will, probably, for a time, sleep as much in four hours as she slept before in about five, or five and a half. But the quality of these five or five and a half hours' sleep will be inferior, and continue so, unless she arouses herself to an increased activity of her intellectual powers, and reduces the quantity of her food and drink.

I have supposed it to be generally known, that we need the more sleep, or seem to need it, in proportion as our minds are less active, and our bodily appetites hold us more in subjection. The individual, male or female, who approaches most nearly to the more stupid lower animals in point of intelligence, activity and general habits, will actually seem to require the most sleep; and, on the contrary, in proportion as an individual rises above all this, and becomes exceedingly active in mind, body and spirit, will the necessity for sleep be greatly diminished. Some of the most elevated of the human race, in point of intelligence, benevolence, and benevolent activity or spirituality have required but very little sleep. Of this number were Wesley, Matthew Hale, Alfred the Great, Jeremy Taylor, Baxter, Bishops Jewel and Burnet, Dr. John Hunter, Dr. Priestly, and Sobieski—as well as Frederick the Great, Gen. Elliot, Lord Wellington, and Napoleon. Of the same number, too, are some of our modern missionaries—to say nothing of several distinguished statesmen, among whom is Lord Brougham.

In view of these considerations, is there one of my readers, who, while she endeavors to sleep enough to answer every valuable purpose of her existence, on penalty of more or less suffering, will not guard, with the same assiduity, against sleeping too much? Aware that the more she indulges herself, the more she may, because she will become by so much the more stupid—and that the more she denies herself sleep, provided it is not to such an extent that her sleep becomes apoplectic, the more will her intellectual powers be developed and acquire the ascendency, and her animal nature be brought into subjection—will she not exert herself to the utmost, and pray for aid from on high, in striving to gain the victory over herself—her lower self—her animal self—and thus increase the duration and value of her existence?

I do not urge the consideration of the great amount of time, merely, which may be saved by rising early. Some have attempted to show that they who rise two hours earlier every morning than usual, gain an amount of time in sixty years—viz., from the age of ten to that of seventy—equal to about seven years of active life. Is it not obvious that there may be mistake here? For if she who rises two hours earlier, goes to bed as much earlier at right, no time is saved at all. And if without going to bed any earlier, she is rendered so much more dull or sleepy during the day, that she loses two hours, or even one, this will form a proportional deduction from her supposed gain. It is she only, who, while she sleeps all which her nature really demands, and takes care not to exceed the demand, succeeds also in lessening the demand itself, that is the real gainer.