The Young Woman's Guide

3. The employment is a pleasant one. It has at once all the advantages of a shelter from the severe cold of the winter, and of seclusion from the sultry sun of summer, and the storms of winter and summer both. [Footnote: Perhaps it may be said, that woman actually suffers more from the extremes of heat and cold, than man, notwithstanding her seclusion, This may be true; but I still think her constitution is not quite as liable to injury, from the weather, as that of man; besides which, she is rather less liable to accidents.] And not only is the house-keeper favored in these respects, but in many others. A pleasant, well ordered home, is perhaps the most perfect representation of the felicity of the heaven above, which the earth affords. At any rate, it is a source of very great happiness; and woman, when she is what she should be, is thus made a conspicuous agent in communicating that happiness.

Are not, then, home, and the domestic concerns of home, desirable? Are they not agreeable? Or if not, should not every young woman strive to make them so? How then does it happen that an idea of meanness is attached to them? How does it happen that almost every young woman who can, gets rid of them—as almost every young man does of farming and other manual labor.

4. Home affords to young women the means and opportunities of intellectual improvement. I do not mean to affirm, that the progress they can make in mere science, amid domestic concerns, will be quite as great in a given time—say one year—as it might be in many of our best schools. But I do mean to say, that it might be rapid enough for every practical purpose. I might say, also, that young women who study a little every day under the eye of a judicious mother, and teach that little to their brothers and sisters, will be more truly wise at the end of their pupilage, than they who only study books in the usual old fashioned—I might say, rather, new fashioned—manner. It is in these circumstances more strikingly true than elsewhere, that

"Teaching, we give; and giving, we retain."

5. But once more. She who is employed in the domestic circle, is more favorably situated—I mean, if the domestic circle is what it should be—for social improvement, than she could be elsewhere. She may not, it is true, hold so much converse on the fashions—or be a means of inventing, or especially of retailing, so much petty scandal—as in some other situation, or in other circumstances. Still, the society of home will be better and more truly refined, than if it were more hollow, and affected, and insincere—in other words, made up of more fashionable materials. If to be fashionable is to distort nature as much as possible—and if the most fashionable society is that which is thus distorted in the highest degree—then it must be admitted that home cannot always be the best place for the education of young women.

6. But, lastly, young women should love domestic life, and the care and society of the young, because it is, without doubt, the intention of Divine Providence that they should do so; and because home, and the concerns of home, afford the best opportunities and means of moral improvement.

The prerogative of woman—the peculiar province which God in nature has assigned her—has been already alluded to with sufficient distinctness. Let every reader, then, follow out the hint, and ask herself whether it is not important that she should love the place and circumstances thus assigned her; and whether she who hates them, is likely to derive from them the great moral lessons they are eminently designed to inculcate.

Is it asked what moral lessons, so mightily important, can be learned in the nursery and in the kitchen? In return, I may ask, what lessons of instruction are there which may not, be learned there, and what moral virtues may not there be cultivated? Each family is a world in miniature; and all the necessary trials of the temper and of the character, are usually found within its circle.

Are we the slaves of appetite? Here is the place for learning the art of self-government. Are we fretful? Here we may learn patience: for a great fund of patience is often demanded; and the more so as we are apt, here, to be off our guard, and to yield to our unhappy feelings.

There are thousands who succeed very well in governing themselves—their temper and their passions—while the eye of the world is upon them, who, nevertheless, fail most culpably in this respect, when at home, secluded, as they seem to think themselves, from observation. Hence the importance of great effort to keep ourselves in subjection in these circumstances; and hence, too, the value of a well ordered and happy home.

Are we over-fond of excitement? Home is a sufficient cure for this—or may be made so to those who ardently desire that it should be. Are we desirous of forming our character upon the model of heaven? We are assured, from the Author of Holy Writ, that the kingdom of heaven consists in that simplicity, confidence, faith and love, which distinguish the child.

In short—to repeat the sentence—there is no place on earth so nearly resembling the heaven above, as a well ordered and happy family. If your lot is cast in such a family, young reader, be thankful for the favor, and strive to make the most of it. Not merely as a preparation for standing at the head of such a family yourself; not merely as a preparation for the work of teaching—although for this avocation I know of nothing better; not merely because it is your duty, and you feel that you must do it; but because it is for your happiness—yes, even for your life.

All character is formed in the school of trial; all good or valuable character, especially. And—I repeat the sentiment—in no place or department of this school are circumstances so favorable for such a purpose, as what may, emphatically, be termed the home department. The family and the church are God's own institutions. All else, is more or less of human origin: not, therefore, of necessity, useless—but more or less imperfect. She who would obey the will of God in forming herself according to the divine mode, must learn to value those institutions, in some measure, as they are valued by Him, and love them with a degree of the same love wherewith He loves them.

It will here be seen that I value domestic avocations so highly—giving them, as I do, the preference over all other female employments—not as an end, but as a means. It is because they secure, far better—other things being alike—the grand result at which every female should perpetually aim—the attainment of excellence. It is because they educate us far better, physically, socially and morally—and with proper pains and right management, they might do so intellectually—than any other employment, for the great future, towards which we are every day hastening.

This home school is—after all which has been said of schools and education—not only the first and best school, especially for females, but emphatically the school. It is the nursery from which are to be transplanted, by and by, the plants which are to fill, and beautify, and perfect—if any perfection in the matter is attained—all our gardens and fields, and render them the fields and gardens of the Lord. Ton much has not been—too much cannot be—said, it appears to me, in favor of this home department of female education—especially as a means of religious improvement.

Young women thus trained, would not only be most fitly prepared for the employment which, as a general rule, they are to follow for life, but for every other employment to which they can, in the good providence of God, ever be called. No matter what is to be their situation—no matter even if it is merely mechanical, as in some factory, or as an amanuensis—this apprenticeship in the family is not only highly useful, but, as it seems to me, indispensable. Is not mind, and health, and self-government—yes, and self-knowledge, too—as indispensable to the individual who is confined to a bench or desk, as to any person who is more active? Nay, are they not even much more so—since sedentary employments have, in themselves, as respects mind and character, a downward, and narrowing, and contracting tendency?

CHAPTER XVII

FRUGALITY AND ECONOMY

Economy becoming old fashioned. The Creator's example. Frugality and economy should be early inculcated. Spending two pence to save one, not always wrong. Examples of disregarding economy. Wasting small things. Good habits as well as bad ones, go by companies. This chapter particularly necessary to the young. Frugality and economy of our grand-mothers.

Economy is another old fashioned word, which, like the thing for which it stands, is fast going into disrepute; and in these days, it will require no little moral courage in him who has any thing of reputation at stake, to commend it—and above all, to commend it to young women. What have they to do with economy? thousands might be disposed to ask, were the subject urged upon their attention.

"Is there not something connected with the idea of economy, which tends, necessarily, to narrow the mind and contract the heart?" This question, too, is often asked, even by those whom age and experience should have taught better things.

I am pained to find the rising generation so prone to discard both frugality and economy, and to regard them as synonymous with narrowness, and meanness, and stinginess. There cannot possibly be a greater mistake.

May I not ask, without incurring the charge of irreverence, if there is any thing more obvious, in the works of the Creator, than his wonderful frugality and good economy? Where, in his domain, is any thing wasted? Where, indeed, is not every thing saved and appropriated to the best possible purpose? And will any one presume to regard his operations as narrow, or mean, or stingy?

What can be more abundant, for example, than air and water? Yet is there one particle too much of either of them? Is there one particle more than is just necessary to render the earth what it was designed to be? Such a thing may be said, I acknowledge, by the ignorant, and short-sighted, and incautious. They vent their occasional complaints, even against the Ruler of the skies, because the windows of heaven are, for a time, shut up, and the rain falls not; and yet these very persons are constrained to admit, in their more sober moments, that all is ordered about right.

Be this as it may, however, there can be no doubt that a just measure of frugality and economy is a cardinal virtue, and should be early inculcated, even though it cost us some time and effort.

A great deal has been said, and no small number of words wasted, in endeavoring to show the folly of spending two pence to save one; whereas, to do so, in some circumstances, may be our highest wisdom. If it be important to learn the art of saving—the art of being frugal—then the art should be acquired, even if it costs something in the acquisition. No one thinks of reaping the full reward of adult labor in any occupation, the moment he begins to put his hand to it, as a mere apprentice. Does he not thus, in learning his occupation or trade—especially during the first years—spend two pence to save one? Does not all preparation for the future, obviously involve the same necessity?

I do not, certainly undertake to say that it is always proper—or indeed, that it is often so—to spend more, in order to save less. I only contend that it is sometimes so; and that to do so, may not only be a matter of propriety, but also a duty.

Let me give an example. Young women are sometimes apt to acquire a habit of being wasteful in regard to small things, such as pins, needles, &c. Yet, to teach them, in these days of refinement, always to pick up pins when they see them lying before them on the floor or elsewhere, and put them into a pin-cushion, or in some suitable place, would no doubt be considered as quite unreasonable.

But would not such a habit be exceedingly useful? Am I to be told that it would be a great waste, since the value of the time consumed in thus picking up pins and needles, would be more than twice the value of the articles saved? Am I to be told that this is not only spending two pence to save one, but that it is actually wicked? If so, by what art shall a wasteful young woman be taught good habits?

I would certainly urge a young girl who was careless about pins, needles, &c., to form the habit of picking up every one she found. I would do so, to prevent her prodigal habits from extending to other matters, and affecting and injuring her whole character. But I would also do so, to cure the bad habit already existing. More than even this; I advise every young woman who finds herself addicted to habits which are opposed to a just frugality and economy, to begin the work of eradicating them, without waiting for the promptings of her mother and friends. Nor let her, for a moment, fear the imputation of meanness; it is sufficient for her that she is doing what she knows to be right.

Good habits, as well as bad ones, like virtues and vices, are apt to go in company. If one is allowed, others are apt to follow. First, those most nearly related; next, those more remotely so; and finally, perhaps, the whole company.

I would not dwell long on a subject like this, in a book for young women, were I not assured that the case requires it. I see young women every where, especially among the middling and higher classes, and in great numbers too, exceedingly improvident; and not a few of them, wasteful. The world seems to be regarded as a great store-house which can never be exhausted, let them be as extravagant as they may. They forget, entirely, the vulgar but correct adage, that "always taking out of the meal tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom"-and seem to take it for granted there is no bottom to their resources.

Our grand-mothers—our great grand-mothers, rather—were not ashamed of frugality or economy. They were neither afraid nor unwilling to do what they knew to be right, simply because it happened to be unfashionable. I am not, indeed, either constitutionally or by age, one of those who place the golden age exclusively in the past. I can see errors in the conduct of our grand-mothers. But I also see in them excellencies; many virtues of the sterner, more sober sort, which have been bartered for modern customs—not to say vices—at a very great loss by the exchange. What we have thus lost, I should be glad, were it possible, to restore.

CHAPTER XVIII

SYSTEM

General neglect of system in families. Successful efforts of a few schools. Why the effects they produce a not permanent. Importance of right education. Here and there system may be found. Blessedness of having a mother who systematic. Let no person ever despair of reformation. How to begin the work.

There is hardly any thing which the majority of our young women hate—frugality and economy, and the study of themselves, perhaps, excepted—so much as system. In this respect a few of our best schools have, within a few years, attempted something; and, in a few instances, with success. I could mention several schools for females, whose teachers have done much more good by the habits of order and system they have inculcated and endeavored to form, than by the sciences they have taught.

The tendency of this excellent feature of a few of our institutions is, however, pretty effectually counteracted by the general feeling of the public, that the school is but a place of painful though necessary restraint; and that when it is over, study is over—and with it, all the system which had been either inculcated or practised. And though not a few who have been thus compelled to live by system, for two or three years, see plainly its excellent effects, and both they and their parents acknowledge them, still the school is no sooner terminated, than every thing of the kind is very likely to become as though it had never been.

So long, however, as home is home, and all the associations therewith are as delightful as they now are—and so long as the greater number of our families live at random, regarding order as constraint, and method and system as slavery—just so long will the feelings of the young of each rising generation, revolt at every thing like order and system; and though for the sake of peace, as well as other and various reasons, they may be willing to conform to both, for a time, yet will they sigh, internally, for the hour when their bondage shall cease, and the day of their emancipation arrive. It is not in human nature, to look back to the scenes, and customs, and methods—if methods they deserve to be called, where all is at random—of early life, without a fondness for, and an inward desire to return to them; and there are few so hardened as not to do it whenever an opportunity occurs. How important, then—how supremely so—is right education! How important to sow, in the earliest years, the seeds of a love of order and system! How important to young women, especially, that this work should not be deferred; since if it is so, it is most likely to be deferred forever.

I know, full well, that here and there a house-keeper, convinced in her conscience that she can do vastly more for herself and others, as well as do it better, by means of system, than without it, attempts something like innovation upon the usual random course which prevails about her. She resolves to have her hours of labor, her hours of recreation, and her hours of reading and visiting. She believes life is long enough for all the purposes of life. She is resolved to be systematic on Sabbath and on week days; in the common details of the family; in dress; and in regard to the hours of rising, meals and rest. But she has a herculean task to accomplish—no small part of which is, to bring her husband and the other members of her family to co-operate with her. Yet, amid every discouragement, she perseveres, and at length succeeds. Is not such a victory worth securing?

Let the young woman who has such a person as I have just described, for her mother, rejoice in it. She can never be too grateful, not only to her mother, but to God. Her life is likely to be of thrice the usual value. Our daughters who are blessed with such mothers, may become as polished corner stones in a temple—worthy of themselves, of those who educate them, and of God.

But let not those who have been less fortunate, in respect to maternal training and influence, utterly despair. Convinced of the general correctness of the views here advanced, and desirous of entering on the work of reform, let them take courage, and begin it immediately. Though the mother, by her influence in the early formation of character, is almost omnipotent, she is not quite so. Though the Ethiopian cannot change his skin, nor the leopard his spots, still it is not utterly impossible for those to do well who have been long accustomed to do evil. "What has been done," you know, "can be done." Make this maxim your motto, and go forward in the work of self-education. But remember to begin, in the first place, with the smaller matters of life; and to conquer in one point or place of action, before you begin with another. And, lastly, remember not to rely wholly on your own strength. You are, indeed, to work—and to work with all your might; but it is always God that worketh in you, when any thing effectual is accomplished, in the way of improvement.

CHAPTER XIX

PUNCTUALITY

Evil of being one minute too late. Examples to illustrate the importance of punctuality. Case of a mother at Lowell. Her adventure. General habits which led to such a disaster. Condition of a family trained to despise punctuality.

No system can be carried on without both order and punctuality. I have already said something, incidentally, on both of these topics; but their importance entitles them to a separate consideration.

The importance of strict punctuality could be shown by appealing to hundreds of authorities; but I prefer an appeal to the good sense of my readers.

How painful it is, in a thousand instances of life, to be but one minute too late; and how much evil it may, indeed, often does occasion, both to ourselves and others!

"Think of the difference," says a spirited writer, "between arriving with a letter one minute before the post-office is closed, and arriving one minute after; between being at the stage-office a quarter of an hour too soon, and reaching there a quarter of an hour too late; between shaking a friend heartily by the hand as he steps on board his vessel bound to the Indies, and arriving at the pier when the vessel is under weigh, and stretching her wide canvass to the winds! Think of this, and a thousand such instances, and be determined, through life, to be in time."

Allow me to illustrate the important subject of which I am now treating, by the case of a young mother. She wishes to go from Boston to Lowell. She leaves Boston in the cars which go at eleven, and reach Lowell soon after twelve. She goes to spend the afternoon with a sick friend there, resolving to return at five—the hour when the last cars leave Lowell for Boston. Her infant is left, for the time, in the hands of a maiden sister—the husband being engaged in his shop, and hardly knowing of her departure.

She spends the afternoon with her friend, and her services are very acceptable. But ere she is aware, the bell at the railroad depot rings for passengers to Boston. A few moments are spent in getting ready and in exchanging the parting salutation with those friends who, though aware of the danger of her being left, have not the honest plainness to urge her to make speed. She is, at length, under way; but on arriving at the depot, lo! the cars have started, and are twenty or thirty rods distant.

What can she do? "Time and tide," and railroad cars, "wait for none." It is in vain that she waves her handkerchief; the swift-footed vehicles move on, and are soon out of sight! She returns, much distressed, to the house of her sick friend, unfit to render her any further service-to say nothing of the mischief she is likely to do by exciting her painful sympathies.

But how and when is she to get home? There are no public means of conveyance back to the city till to-morrow morning, and the expense of a private conveyance seems to her quite beyond her means.

How could I be so late? she says to herself. How could I run the risk of being thus left? Why was I not in season? What will my husband think—especially as I came off without saying any thing to him about coming? But this, though much to distress her, is not all, nor the most. Her poor bade! what will become of that? Her friends endeavor to soothe her by diverting her mind—but to no purpose, or nearly none: she is half distracted, and can do nothing but mourn over her folly in being so late.

But the weather is mild, and all is propitious without, except that it is likely to be rather dark; and by means of the efforts of thoughtful friends, a coach is fitted out with a careful driver, to carry her home this very evening. It will take five hours in all; and as it is now six, she will reach home at about eleven. The infant will not greatly suffer before that time.

Finding herself fairly on the road, her feelings are somewhat composed, and she just now begins to think what her husband will do, when he comes from the shop at seven, and finds she has not arrived. She is afraid he will be at the extra pains and expense to come after her; and perhaps in the darkness pass by her, and go on to Lowell.

And her fears are partly realized. After much anxiety and some complaining—which, however, I will not undertake to justify—the husband is on the road with a vehicle, going to Lowell to assist her in getting home. They meet about half way from place to place, and the drivers recognize each other—though rather more than, in the darkness, could have been expected. The coach from Lowell returns, and that from Boston, taking in both passengers, wheels them back in haste to their home. In their joy to find matters no worse, they forget to recriminate each other, and think only of the timid sister with whom the infant was left in charge: for in the hurry of getting off, the husband had made no provision for quieting her fears of being alone. She passes the time, however, in much less mental agitation than might have been expected, and takes as good care as she can, of a fretful, crying, half-starved babe. As the clock strikes one, the family are all quiet in bed, and endeavoring to sleep.