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Title: American Woman's Home: Or, Principles of Domestic Science;

Author: Catharine Esther Beecher
Harriet Beecher Stowe

Release date: September 1, 2004 [eBook #6598]
Most recently updated: December 29, 2020

Language: English

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Credits: Produced by Steve Schulze, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN
WOMAN'S HOME: OR, PRINCIPLES OF DOMESTIC SCIENCE; ***

Produced by Steve Schulze, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

AMERICAN WOMAN'S HOME:
OR, PRINCIPLES OF
DOMESTIC SCIENCE;
BEING A GUIDE TO THE FORMATION AND MAINTENANCE OF
ECONOMICAL, HEALTHFUL, BEAUTIFUL, AND CHRISTIAN
HOMES.

BY CATHERINE E. BEECHER AND HARRIET BEECHER STOWE

TO THE WOMEN OF AMERICA, IN WHOSE HANDS REST THE REAL DESTINIES OF
THE REPUBLIC, AS MOULDED BY THE EARLY TRAINING AND PRESERVED AMID
THE MATURER INFLUENCES OF HOME, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY
INSCRIBED.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION.

The chief cause of woman's disabilities and sufferings, that women are
not trained, as men are, for their peculiar duties—Aim of this volume to
elevate the honor and remuneration of domestic employment—Woman's
duties, and her utter lack of training for them—Qualifications of the writers
of this volume to teach the matters proposed—Experience and study of
woman's work—Conviction of the dignity and importance of it—The great
social and moral power in her keeping—The principles and teachings of
Jesus Christ the true basis of woman's rights and duties.

I.

THE CHRISTIAN FAMILY.

Object of the Family State—Duty of the elder and stronger to raise the
younger, weaker, and more ignorant to an equality of advantages—
Discipline of the family—The example of Christ one of self-sacrifice as
man's elder brother—His assumption of a low estate—His manual labor—
His trade—Woman the chief minister of the family estate—Man the out-
door laborer and provider—Labor and self-denial in the mutual relations of
home-life, honorable, healthful, economical, enjoyable, and Christian.

II.

A CHRISTIAN HOUSE.

True wisdom in building a home—Necessity of economizing time, labor,
and expense, by the close packing of conveniences—Plan of a model
cottage—Proportions—Piazzas—Entry—Stairs and landings—Large room
—Movable Screen—Convenient bedsteads—A good mattress—A cheap
and convenient ottoman—Kitchen and stove-room—The stove-room and its
arrangements—Second or attic story—Closets, corner dressing-tables,
windows, balconies, water and earth-closets, shoe-bag, piece-bag—
Basement, closets, refrigerator, washtubs, etc.—Laundry—General wood-
work—Conservatories-Average estimate of cost.

III.

A HEALTHFUL HOME.

Household murder—Poisoning and starvation the inevitable result of bad
air in public halls and private homes—Good air as needful as good food—
Structure and operations of the lungs and their capillaries and air-cells—
How people in a confined room will deprive the air of oxygen and overload
it with refuse carbonic acid-Starvation of the living body deprived of
oxygen—The skin and its twenty-eight miles of perspiratory tubes—
Reciprocal action of plants and animals—Historical examples of foul-air
poisoning—Outward effects of habitual breathing of bad air—Quotations
from scientific authorities.

IV.

SCIENTIFIC DOMESTIC VENTILATION.

An open fireplace secures due ventilation—Evils of substituting air-tight
stoves and furnace heating—Tendency of warm air to rise and of cool air to
sink—Ventilation of mines—Ignorance of architects—Poor ventilation in

most houses—Mode of ventilating laboratories—Creation of a current of
warm air in a flue open at top and bottom of the room—Flue to be built into
chimney: method of utilizing it.

V. STOVES, FURNACES, AND CHIMNEYS.

The general properties of heat, conduction, convection, radiation,
reflection—Cooking done by radiation the simplest but most wasteful
mode: by convection (as in stoves and furnaces) the cheapest—The range—
The model cooking-stove—Interior arrangements and principles—
Contrivances for economizing heat, labor, time, fuel, trouble, and expense
—Its durability, simplicity, etc.—Chimneys: why they smoke and how to
cure them—Furnaces: the dryness of their heat—Necessity of moisture in
warm air—How to obtain and regulate it.

VI.

HOME DECORATION.

Significance of beauty in making home attractive and useful in education
—Exemplification of economical and tasteful furniture—The carpet,
lounge, lambrequins, curtains, ottomans, easy-chair, centre-table—Money
left for pictures—Chromes—Pretty frames— Engravings—Statuettes—
Educatory influence of works of art—Natural adornments—Materials in the
woods and fields—Parlor-gardens—Hanging baskets—Fern-shields—Ivy,
its beauty and tractableness—Window, with flowers, vines, and pretty
plants—Rustic stand for flowers—Ward's case—How to make it
economically—Bowls and vases of rustic work for growing plants—Ferns,
how and when to gather them—General remarks.

VII.

THE CARE OF HEALTH.

Importance of some knowledge of the body and its needs—Fearful
responsibility of entering upon domestic duties in ignorance—The
fundamental vital principle—Cell-life—Wonders of the microscope —Cell-
multiplication—Constant interplay of decay and growth necessary to life—
The red and white cells of the blood—Secreting and converting power—
The nervous system—The brain and the nerves—Structural arrangement
and functions—The ganglionic system—The nervous fluid—Necessity of
properly apportioned exercise to nerves of sensation and of motion—Evils
of excessive or insufficient exercise—Equal development of the whole.

VIII.

DOMESTIC EXERCISE.

Connection of muscles and nerves—Microscopic cellular muscular fibre
—Its mode of action—Dependence on the nerves of voluntary and
involuntary motion—How exercise of muscles quickens circulation of the
blood which maintains all the processes of life—Dependence of equilibrium
upon proper muscular activity—Importance of securing exercise that will
interest the mind.

IX.

HEALTHFUL FOOD.

Apportionment of elements in food: carbon, nitrogen, phosphorus,
calcium, iron, silicon, etc.—Large proportion of water in the human body—
Dr. Holmes on the interchange of death and life—Constituent parts of a
kernel of wheat—Comparison of different kinds of food—General
directions for diet—Hunger the proper guide and guard of appetite—Evils
of over-eating—Structure and operations of the stomach—Times and
quantity for eating—Stimulating and nourishing food—Americans eat too

much meat—Wholesome effects of Lenten fasting—Matter and manner of
eating—Causes of debilitation from misuse of food.

X.

HEALTHFUL DRINKS.

Stimulating drinks not necessary—Their immediate evil effects upon the
human body and tendency to grow into habitual desires—The arguments for
and against stimulus—Microscopic revelations of the effects of alcohol on
the cellular tissue of the brain—Opinions of high scientific authorities
against its use—No need of resorting to stimulants either for refreshment,
nourishment, or pleasure—Tea and coffee an extensive cause of much
nervous debility and suffering—Tend to wasteful use in the kitchen—Are
seldom agreeable at first to children—Are dangerous to sensitive, nervous
organizations, and should be at least regulated—Hot drinks unwholesome,
debilitating, and destructive to teeth, throat, and stomach—Warm drinks
agreeable and not unhealthful—Cold drinks not to be too freely used during
meals—Drinking while eating always injurious to digestion.

XI.

CLEANLINESS.

Health and comfort depend on cleanliness—Scientific treatment of the
skin, the most complicated organ of the body—Structure and arrangement
of the skin, its layers, cells, nerves, capillaries, absorbents, oil-tubes,
perspiration-tubes, etc.—The mucous membrane—Phlegm—The secreting
organs—The liver, kidney, pancreas, salivary and lachrymal glands—
Sympathetic connection of all the bodily organs—Intimate connection of
the skin with all the other organs—Proper mode of treating the skin—
Experiment showing happy effects of good treatment.

XII.

CLOTHING.

Fashion attacks the very foundation of the body, the bones—Bones
composed of animal and mineral elements—General construction and
arrangement—Health of bones dependent on nourishment and exercise of
body—Spine—Distortions produced by tight dressing—Pressure of interior
organs upon each other and upon the bones—Displacement of stomach,
diaphragm, heart, intestines, and pelvic or lower organs—Women liable to
peculiar distresses—A well-fitted jacket to replace stiff corsets, supporting
the bust above and the under skirts below—Dressing of young children—
Safe for a healthy child to wear as little clothing as will make it thoroughly
comfortable—Nature the guide—The very young and the very old need the
most clothing.

XIII.

GOOD COOKING.

Bad cooking prevalent in America-Abundance of excellent material—
General management of food here very wasteful and extravagant—Five
great departments of Cookery—Bread-What it should be, how to spoil and
how to make it—Different modes of aeration—Baking—Evils of hot bread.
—Butter-Contrast between the butter of America and of European
countries-How to make good butter.—Meat-Generally used too newly
killed—Lack of nicety in butcher's work—Economy of French butchery,
curving, and trimming—Modes of cooking meats—The frying-pan—True
way of using it—The French art of making delicious soups and stews—
Vegetables—Their number and variety in America—The potato—How to
cook it, a simple yet difficult operation—Roasted, boiled, fried.—Tea—

Warm table drinks generally—Coffee—Tea— Chocolate.—Confectionery
—Ornamental cookery—Pastry, ices, jellies.

XIV.

EARLY RISING. A virtue peculiarly American and democratic—In
aristocratic countries, labor considered degrading—The hours of sunlight
generally devoted to labor by the working classes and to sleep by the
indolent and wealthy—Sunlight necessary to health and growth whether of
vegetables or animals—Particularly needful for the sick—Substitution of
artificial light and heat, by night, a great waste of money—Eight hours'
sleep enough—Excessive sleep debilitating—Early rising necessary to a
well-regulated family, to the amount of work to be done, to the community,
to schools, and to all classes in American society.

XV.

DOMESTIC MANNERS.

Good manners the expression of benevolence in personal intercourse—
Serious defects in manners of the Americans-Causes of abrupt manners to
be found in American life—Want of clear discrimination between men—
Necessity for distinctions of superiority: and subordination—Importance
that young mothers should seriously endeavor to remedy this defect, while
educating their children—Democratic principal of equal rights to be
applied, not to our own interests but to those of others—The same courtesy
to be extended to all classes—Necessary distinctions arising from mutual
relations to be observed—The strong to defer to the weak—Precedence
yielded by men to women in America—Good manners must be cultivated in
early life—Mutual relations of husband and wife—Parents and children—
The rearing of children to courtesy—De Tocqueville on American manners.

XVI.

GOOD TEMPER IN THE HOUSEKEEPER.

Easier for a household under the guidance of an equable temper in the
mistress—-Dissatisfied looks and sharp tones destroy the comfort of
system, neatness, and economy—Considerations to aid the housekeeper—
Importance and dignity of her duties—Difficulties to be overcome—Good
policy to calculate beforehand upon the derangement of well-arranged plans
—Object of housekeeping, the comfort and well-being of the family—The
end should not be sacrificed to secure the means—Possible to refrain from
angry tones—Mild speech most effective—Exemplification—Allowances
to be made for servants and children—Power of religion to impart dignity
and importance to the ordinary and petty details of domestic life.

XVII.

HABITS OF SYSTEM AND ORDER.

Relative importance and difficulty of the duties a woman is called to
perform—Her duties not trivial—A habit of system and order necessary—
Right apportionment of time—General principles— Christianity to be the
foundation—Intellectual and social interests to be preferred to gratification
of taste or appetite—Neglect of health a sin in the sight of God—Regular
season of rest appointed by the Creator—Divisions of time—Systematic
arrangement of house articles and other conveniences—Regular
employment for each member of a family—Children—Family work—
Forming habits of system—Early rising a very great aid—Due
apportionment of time to the several duties.

XVIII.

GIVING IN CHARITY.

No point of duty more difficult to fix by rule than charity—First
consideration—Object for which we are placed in this world—Self-
denying Benevolence.—Second consideration—Natural principles not to be
exterminated, but regulated and controlled.—Third consideration—
Superfluities sometimes proper, and sometimes not—Fourth consideration
—No rule of duty right for one and not for all—The opposite of this
principle tested—Some use of superfluities necessary—Plan for keeping an
account of necessities and superfluities—Untoward results of our actions do
not always prove that we deserve blame—General principles to guide in
deciding upon objects of charity—Who are our neighbors—The most in
need to be first relieved—Not much need of charity for physical wants in
this country—Associated charities—Indiscriminate charity—Impropriety of
judging the charities of others.

XIX.

ECONOMY OF TIME AND EXPENSES

Economy, value, and right apportionment of time—Laws appointed by
God for the Jews—Christianity removes the restrictions laid on the Jews,
but demands all our time to be devoted to our own best interests and the
good of our fellow-men—Enjoyment connected with every duty—Various
modes of economizing time—System and order—Uniting several objects in
one employment—Odd intervals of time—Aiding others in economizing
time—Economy in expenses—Contradictory notions—General principles
in which all agree—Knowledge of income and expenses—Evils of want of
system and forethought—Young ladies should early learn to be systematic
and economical.

XX.

HEALTH OF MIND.

Intimate connection between the body and mind—Brain excited by
improper stimulants taken into the stomach—Mental faculties then affected
—Causes of mental disease—Want of oxygenized blood—Fresh air
absolutely necessary—Excessive exercise of the intellect or feelings—Such
attention to religion as prevents the performance of other duties, wrong—
Unusual precocity in children usually the result of a diseased brain—Idiocy
often the result, or the precocious child sinks below the average of mankind
—This evil yet prevalent in colleges and other seminaries—A medical man
necessary in every seminary—Some pupils always needing restraint in
regard to study—A third cause of mental disease, the want of appropriate
exercise of the various faculties of the mind—Extract from Dr. Combe—
Beneficial results of active intellectual employments—Indications of a
diseased mind.

XXI.

THE CARE OF INFANTS.

Herbert Spencer on the treatment of offspring—Absurdity of undertaking
to rear children without any knowledge of how to do it—Foolish
management of parents generally the cause of evils ascribed to Providence
—Errors of management during the first two years—Food of child and of
mother—Warning as to use of too much medicine—Fresh air— Care of the
skin—Dress—Sleep—Bathing—Change of air—Habits—Dangers of the
teething period—Constipation—Diarrhea—Teething—How to relieve its
dangers—Feverishness—Use of water.

XXII.

THE MANAGEMENT OF YOUNG CHILDREN.

Physical education of children—Animal diet to be avoided for the very
young—Result of treatment at Albany Orphan Asylum—Good ventilation

of nurseries and schools—Moral training to consist in forming habits of
submission, self-denial, and benevolence-General suggestions—Extremes
of sternness and laxity to be avoided—Appreciation of childish desires and
feelings—Sympathy—Partaking in games and employments—Inculcation
of principles preferable to multiplication of commands—Rewards rather
than penalties—Severe tones of voice—Children to be kept happy—
Sensitive children—Self-denial—Deceit and honesty—Immodesty and
delicacy—Dreadful penalties consequent upon youthful impurities—
Religious training.

XXIII.

DOMESTIC AMUSEMENTS AND SOCIAL DUTIES.

Children need more amusement than older persons—Its object, to afford
rest and recreation to the mind and body—Example of Christ—No
amusements to be introduced that will tempt the weak or over-excite the
young—Puritan customs—Work followed by play—Dramatic exercises,
dancing, and festivity wholesomely enjoyed—The nine o'clock bell—The
drama and the dance—Card-playing—Novel-reading—Taste for solid
reading—Cultivation of fruits and flowers—Music—Collecting of shells,
plants, and minerals—Games—Exercise of mechanical skill for boys—
Sewing, cutting, and fitting—General suggestions—Social and domestic
duties—Family attachments—Hospitality.

XXIV.

CARE OF THE AGED.

Preservation of the aged, designed to give opportunity for self-denial and
loving care—Patience, sympathy, and labor for them to be regarded as
privileges in a family—The young should respect and minister unto the
aged—Treating them as valued members of the family—Engaging them in

domestic Games and sports—Reading aloud-Courteous attention to their
opinions—Assistance in retarding decay of faculties by helping them to
exercise—Keeping up interest of the infirm in domestic affairs—Great care
to preserve animal heat—Ingratitude to the aged, its baseness—Chinese
regard for old age.

XXV.

THE CARE OF SERVANTS.

Origin of the Yankee term "help"—Days of good health and intelligent
house-keeping—Growth of wealth tends to multiply hired service—
American young women should be trained in housekeeping for the
guidance of ignorant and shiftless servants—Difficulty of teaching servants
—Reaction of society in favor of women's intellectuality, in danger of
causing a new reaction—American girls should do more work—Social
estimate of domestic service—Dearth of intelligent domestic help—Proper
mode of treating servants—General rules and special suggestions—Hints
from experience—Woman's first "right," liberty to do what she can—
Domestic duties not to be neglected for operations in other spheres—
Servants to be treated with respect—Errors of heartless and of too indulgent
employers—Mistresses of American families necessarily missionaries and
instructors.

XXVI.

CARE Of THE SICK.

Prominence given to care and cure of the sick by our Saviour—Every
woman should know what to do in the case of illness—Simple remedies
best—Fasting and perspiration—Evils of constipation—Modes of relieving
it—Remedies for colds—Unwise to tempt the appetite of the sick—

Suggestion for the sick-room—Ventilation—Needful articles—The room,
bed, and person of the patient to be kept neat—Care to preserve animal
warmth—The sick, the delicate, the aged—Food always to be carefully
prepared and neatly served—Little modes of refreshment— Implicit
obedience to the physician—Care in purchasing medicines— Exhibition of
cheerfulness, gentleness, and sympathy—Knowledge and experience of
mind—Lack of competent nurses—Failings of nurses— Sensitiveness of
the sick—"Sisters of Charity," the reason why they are such excellent
nurses—Illness in the family a providential opportunity of training children
to love and usefulness.

XXVII.

ACCIDENTS AND ANTIDOTES.

Mode of treating cuts, wounds, severed arteries—Bad bruises to be
bathed In hot water—Sprains treated with hot fomentation and rest—Burns
cured by creosote, wood-soot, or flour—Drowning; most approved mode of
treatment—Poisons and their antidotes—Soda, saleratus, potash, sulphuric
or oxalic acid, lime or baryta, iodine or iodide of potassium, prussic acid,
antimony, arsenic, lead, nitrate of silver, phosphorus, alcohol, tobacco,
opium, strychnia—Bleeding at the lungs, stomach, throat, nose—Accidents
from lightning— Stupefaction, from coal-gas or foul air—Fire—Fainting—
Coolness and presence of mind.

XXVIII.

SEWING, CUTTING, AND MENDING.

Different kinds of Stitch—Overstitch—Hems—Tucks—Fells—Gores—
Buttonholes—Whipping—Gathering—Darning—Basting—Sewing—
Work- baskets—To make a frock—Patterns—Fitting—Lining—Thin Silks
— Fitted and plain silks—Plaids—Stripes—Linen and Cotton—How to

buy—Shirts—Chemises—Night-gowns—Under-skirts—Mending—Silk
dresses—Broadcloth—Hose—Shoes, etc.—Bedding—Mattresses—
Sheeting—Bed-linen.

XXIX.

FIRES AND LIGHTS.

Wood fires—Shallow fireplaces—Utensils—The best wood for fires
—How to measure a load—Splitting and piling—Ashes—Cleaning up—
Stoves and grates—Ventilation—Moisture—Stove-pipe thimbles—
Anthracite coal—Bituminous coal—Care to be used in erecting stoves
and pipes—Lights—Poor economy to use bad light—Gas—Oil—Kerosene
—
Points to be considered: Steadiness, Color, Heat—Argand burners—
Dangers of kerosene—Tests of its safety and light-giving qualities—
Care of lamps—Utensils needed—Shades—Night-lamps—How to make
candles—Moulded—Dipped—Rush-lights.

XXX.

THE CARE OF ROOMS.

Parlors—Cleansing—Furniture—Pictures—Hearths and jambs—Stains
in marble—Carpets—Chambers and bedrooms—Ventilation—How to
make a bed properly—Servants should have single beds and comfortable
rooms—Kitchens—Light—Air—Cleanliness—How to make a cheap oil-
cloth—The sink—Washing dishes—Kitchen furniture—Crockery—
Ironware—Tinware—Basketware—Other articles—Closets—Cellars—
Dryness and cleanliness imperative necessities—Store-rooms—Modes of
destroying insects and vermin.

XXXI.

THE CARE OF YARDS AND GARDENS.

Preparation of soil for pot-plants—For hot-beds—For planting flower
seeds—For garden seeds—Transplanting—To re-pot house plants—The
laying out of yards and gardens—Transplanting trees—The care of house
plants.

XXXII.

THE PROPAGATION OF PLANTS.

Propagation of bulbous roots—Propagation of plants by shoots—By
layers-Budding and grafting—The outer and inner bark—Detailed
description of operations—Seed-fruit—Stone-fruit—Rose hushes—
Ingrafting—Stock grafting—Pruning—Perpendicular shoots to be taken
out, horizontal or curved shoots retained—All fruit-buds coming out after
midsummer to be rubbed off—Suckers—Pruning to be done after sap is in
circulation.—Thinning—Leaves to be removed when they shade fruit near
maturity—Fruit to be removed when too abundant for good quality—How
to judge.

XXXIII.

THE CULTIVATION OF FRUIT.

A pleasant, easy, and profitable occupation—Soil for a nursery—
Planting of seeds—Transplanting—Pruning—Filberts—Figs—Currants—
Gooseberries—Raspberries—Strawberries—Grapes—Modes of preserving
fruit trees—The yellows—Moths—Caterpillars—Brulure-Curculio—
Canker- worm.

XXXIV.

THE CARE OF DOMESTIC ANIMALS.

Interesting association of animals with man, from childhood to age—
Domestic animals apt to catch the spirit of their masters— Important
necessities—Good feeding—Shelter—Cleanliness—Destruction of
parasitic vermin—Salt and water—Light—Exercise—Rule for breeding—
Care of Horses: feeding, grooming, special treatment—Cows: stabling,
feed, calving, milking, tethering—Swine: naturally cleanly, breeding, fresh
water, charcoal, feeding—Sheep: winter treatment—Diet —Sorting—Use
of sheep in clearing land-Pasture—Hedges and fences—Poultry—Turkeys
—Geese—Ducks—Fowls—Dairy work generally—Bees—Care of
domestic animals, occupation for women.

XXXV.

EARTH-CLOSETS.

Deodorization and preservation of excrementitious matter—The earth-
closet—Waring's pamphlet—The agricultural argument—Necessity of
returning to the soil the elements taken from it—Earth-closet based on
power of clay and inorganic matter to absorb and retain odors and fertilizing
matter—Its construction—Mode of use—The ordinary privy—The
commode or portable house-privy—Especial directions: things to be
observed—Repeated use of earth—Other advantages—Sick-rooms—
House-labor—Cleanliness—Economy.

XXXVI.

WARMING AND VENTILATION.

Open fireplace nearest to natural mode by which earth is warmed and
ventilated—Origin of diseases—Necessity of pure air to life —Statistics—
General principles of ventilation—Mode of Lewis Leeds—Ventilation of
buildings planned in this work—The pure-air conductor—The foul-air
exhausting-flue—Stoves—Detailed arrangements—Warming—Economy of

time, labor, and expense in the cottage plan—After all schemes, the open
fireplace the best.

XXXVII.

CARE OF THE HOMELESS, THE HELPLESS, AND THE VICIOUS.

Recommendations of the Massachusetts Board of State Charities—
Pauper and criminal classes should be scattered in Christian homes instead
of gathered into large institutions—Facts recently published concerning the
poor of New-York—Sufferings of the poor, deterioration of the rich—
Christian principles of benevolence—Plan for a Christian city house—
Suggestions to wealthy and unoccupied women—Roman Catholic works—
Protestant duties—The highest mission of woman. XXXVIII.

THE CHRISTIAN NEIGHBORHOOD.

Spirit of Christian Missions—Present organizations under church
direction too mechanical—Christian family influence the true instrument of
Gospel propagation—Practical suggestions for gathering a Christian family
in neglected neighborhoods—Plan of church, school-house, and family-
dwelling in one building—Mode of use for various purposes—Nucleus and
gathering of a family—Christian work for Christian women—Children—
Orphans—Servants—Neglected ones—Household training—Roman
Catholic Nuns—The South—The West—The neglected interior of older
States—Power of such examples—Rapid spread of their influence—
Anticipation of the glorious consummation to be hoped for—Prophecy in
the Scriptures—Cowper's noble vision of the millennial glory.

APPEAL TO AMERICAN WOMEN.

GLOSSARY OF WORDS AND REFERENCES

INTRODUCTION.

The authors of this volume, while they sympathize with every honest effort
to relieve the disabilities and sufferings of their sex, are confident that the
chief cause of these evils is the fact that the honor and duties of the family
state are not duly appreciated, that women are not trained for these duties as
men are trained for their trades and professions, and that, as the
consequence, family labor is poorly done, poorly paid, and regarded as
menial and disgraceful.

To be the nurse of young children, a cook, or a housemaid, is regarded as
the lowest and last resort of poverty, and one which no woman of culture
and position can assume without loss of caste and respectability.

It is the aim of this volume to elevate both the honor and the
remuneration of all the employments that sustain the many difficult and
sacred duties of the family state, and thus to render each department of
woman's true profession as much desired and respected as are the most
honored professions of men.

When the other sex are to be instructed in law, medicine, or divinity, they
are favored with numerous institutions richly endowed, with teachers of the
highest talents and acquirements, with extensive libraries, and abundant and
costly apparatus. With such advantages they devote nearly ten of the best
years of life to preparing themselves for their profession; and to secure the

public from unqualified members of these professions, none can enter them
until examined by a competent body, who certify to their due preparation
for their duties.

Woman's profession embraces the care and nursing of the body in the
critical periods of infancy and sickness, the training of the human mind in
the most impressible period of childhood, the instruction and control of
servants, and most of the government and economies of the family state.
These duties of woman are as sacred and important as any ordained to man;
and yet no such advantages for preparation have been accorded to her, nor
is there any qualified body to certify the public that a woman is duly
prepared to give proper instruction in her profession.

This unfortunate want, and also the questions frequently asked
concerning the domestic qualifications of both the authors of this work,
who have formerly written upon such topics, make it needful to give some
account of the advantages they have enjoyed in preparation for the
important office assumed as teachers of woman's domestic duties.

The sister whose name is subscribed is the eldest of nine children by her
own mother, and of four by her step-mother; and having a natural love for
children, she found it a pleasure as well as a duty to aid in the care of
infancy and childhood. At sixteen, she was deprived of a mother, who was
remarkable not only for intelligence and culture, but for a natural taste and
skill in domestic handicraft. Her place was awhile filled by an aunt
remarkable for her habits of neatness and order, and especially for her
economy. She was, in the course of time, replaced by a stepmother, who had
been accustomed to a superior style of housekeeping, and was an expert in
all departments of domestic administration.

Under these successive housekeepers, the writer learned not only to
perform in the most approved manner all the manual employments of

domestic life, but to honor and enjoy these duties.

At twenty-three, she commenced the institution which ever since has
flourished as "The Hartford Female Seminary," where, at the age of twelve,
the sister now united with her in the authorship of this work became her
pupil, and, after a few years, her associate. The removal of the family to the
West, and failure of health, ended a connection with the Hartford Seminary,
and originated a similar one in Cincinnati, of which the younger authoress
of this work was associate principal till her marriage.

At this time, the work on Domestic Economy, of which this volume may
be called an enlarged edition, although a great portion of it is entirely new,
embodying the latest results of science, was prepared by the writer as a part
of the Massachusetts School Library, and has since been extensively
introduced as a text-book into public schools and higher female seminaries.
It was followed by its sequel, The Domestic Receipt-Book, widely
circulated by the Harpers in every State of the Union.

These two works have been entirely remodeled, former topics rewritten,
and many new ones introduced, so as to include all that is properly
embraced in a complete Encyclopedia of Domestic Economy.

In addition to the opportunities mentioned, the elder sister, for many
years, has been studying the causes and the remedies for the decay of
constitution and loss of health so increasingly prevalent among American
women, aiming to promote the establishment of endowed institutions, in
which women shall be properly trained for their profession, as both
housekeepers and health-keepers. What advantages have thus been received
and the results thus obtained will appear in succeeding pages.

During the upward progress of the age, and the advance of a more
enlightened Christianity, the writers of this volume have gained more

elevated views of the true mission of woman—of the dignity and
importance of her distinctive duties, and of the true happiness which will be
the reward of a right appreciation of this mission, and a proper performance
of these duties.

There is at the present time an increasing agitation of the public mind,
evolving many theories and some crude speculations as to woman's rights
and duties. That there is a great social and moral power in her keeping,
which is now seeking expression by organization, is manifest, and that
resulting plans and efforts will involve some mistakes, some collisions, and
some failures, all must expect.

But to intelligent, reflecting, and benevolent women—whose faith rests
on the character and teachings of Jesus Christ—there are great principles
revealed by Him, which in the end will secure the grand result which He
taught and suffered to achieve. It is hoped that in the following pages these
principles will be so exhibited and illustrated as to aid in securing those
rights and advantages which Christ's religion aims to provide for all, and
especially for the most weak and defenseless of His children.

CATHARINE E. BEECHER.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER I.
THE CHRISTIAN FAMILY.

It is the aim of this volume to elevate both the honor and the
remuneration of all employments that sustain the many difficult and varied
duties of the family state, and thus to render each department of woman's
profession as much desired and respected as are the most honored
professions of men.

What, then, is the end designed by the family state which Jesus Christ
came into this world to secure?

It is to provide for the training of our race to the highest possible
intelligence, virtue, and happiness, by means of the self-sacrificing labors of
the wise and good, and this with chief reference to a future immortal
existence. The distinctive feature of the family is self-sacrificing labor of
the stronger and wiser members to raise the weaker and more ignorant to
equal advantages. The father undergoes toil and self-denial to provide a
home, and then the mother becomes a self-sacrificing laborer to train its
inmates. The useless, troublesome infant is served in the humblest offices;
while both parents unite in training it to an equality with themselves in
every advantage. Soon the older children become helpers to raise the

younger to a level with their own. When any are sick, those who are well
become self-sacrificing ministers. When the parents are old and useless, the
children become their self-sacrificing servants.

Thus the discipline of the family state is one of daily self-devotion of the
stronger and wiser to elevate and support the weaker members. Nothing
could be more contrary to its first principles than for the older and more
capable children to combine to secure to themselves the highest advantages,
enforcing the drudgeries on the younger, at the sacrifice of their equal
culture.

Jesus Christ came to teach the fatherhood of God and consequent
brotherhood of man. He came as the "first-born Son" of God and the Elder
Brother of man, to teach by example the self-sacrifice by which the great
family of man is to be raised to equality of advantages as children of God.
For this end, he "humbled himself" from the highest to the lowest place. He
chose for his birthplace the most despised village; for his parents the lowest
in rank; for his trade, to labor with his hands as a carpenter, being "subject
to his parents" thirty years. And, what is very significant, his trade was that
which prepares the family home, as if he would teach that the great duty of
man is labor—to provide for and train weak and ignorant creatures. Jesus
Christ worked with his hands nearly thirty years, and preached less than
three. And he taught that his kingdom is exactly opposite to that of the
world, where all are striving for the highest positions. "Whoso will be great
shall be your minister, and whoso will be chiefest shall be servant of all."

The family state then, is the aptest earthly illustration of the heavenly
kingdom, and in it woman is its chief minister. Her great mission is self-
denial, in training its members to self-sacrificing labors for the ignorant and
weak: if not her own children, then the neglected children of her Father in
heaven. She is to rear all under her care to lay up treasures, not on earth, but

in heaven. All the pleasures of this life end here; but those who train
immortal minds are to reap the fruit of their labor through eternal ages.

To man is appointed the out-door labor—to till the earth, dig the mines,
toil in the foundries, traverse the ocean, transport merchandise, labor in
manufactories, construct houses, conduct civil, municipal, and state affairs,
and all the heavy work, which, most of the day, excludes him from the
comforts of a home. But the great stimulus to all these toils, implanted in
the heart of every true man, is the desire for a home of his own, and the
hopes of paternity. Every man who truly lives for immortality responds to
the beatitude, "Children are a heritage from the Lord: blessed is the man
that hath his quiver full of them!" The more a father and mother live under
the influence of that "immortality which Christ hath brought to light," the
more is the blessedness of rearing a family understood and appreciated.
Every child trained aright is to dwell forever in exalted bliss with those that
gave it life and trained it for heaven.

The blessed privileges of the family state are not confined to those who
rear children of their own. Any woman who can earn a livelihood, as every
woman should be trained to do, can take a properly qualified female
associate, and institute a family of her own, receiving to its heavenly
influences the orphan, the sick, the homeless, and the sinful, and by
motherly devotion train them to follow the self-denying example of Christ,
in educating his earthly children for true happiness in this life and for his
eternal home.

And such is the blessedness of aiding to sustain a truly Christian home,
that no one comes so near the pattern of the All-perfect One as those who
might hold what men call a higher place, and yet humble themselves to the
lowest in order to aid in training the young, "not as men-pleasers, but as
servants to Christ, with good-will doing service as to the Lord, and not to

men." Such are preparing for high places in the kingdom of heaven.
"Whosoever will be chiefest among you, let him be your servant."

It is often the case that the true humility of Christ is not understood. It
was not in having a low opinion of his own character and claims, but it was
in taking a low place in order to raise others to a higher. The worldling
seeks to raise himself and family to an equality with others, or, if possible, a
superiority to them. The true follower of Christ comes down in order to
elevate others.

The maxims and institutions of this world have ever been antagonistic to
the teachings and example of Jesus Christ. Men toil for wealth, honor, and
power, not as means for raising others to an equality with themselves, but
mainly for earthly, selfish advantages. Although the experience of this life
shows that children brought up to labor have the fairest chance for a
virtuous and prosperous life, and for hope of future eternal blessedness, yet
it is the aim of most parents who can do so, to lay up wealth that their
children need not labor with the hands as Christ did. And although exhorted
by our Lord not to lay up treasure on earth, but rather the imperishable
riches which are gained in toiling to train the ignorant and reform the sinful,
as yet a large portion of the professed followers of Christ, like his first
disciples, are "slow of heart to believe."

Not less have the sacred ministries of the family state been undervalued
and warred upon in other directions; for example, the Romish Church has
made celibacy a prime virtue, and given its highest honors to those who
forsake the family state as ordained by God. Thus came great communities
of monks and nuns, shut out from the love and labors of a Christian home;
thus, also, came the monkish systems of education, collecting the young in
great establishments away from the watch and care of parents, and the

healthful and self-sacrificing labors of a home. Thus both religion and
education have conspired to degrade the family state.

Still more have civil laws and social customs been opposed to the
principles of Jesus Christ. It has ever been assumed that the learned, the
rich, and the powerful are not to labor with the hands, as Christ did, and as
Paul did when he would "not eat any man's bread for naught, but wrought
with labor, not because we have not power "[to live without hand-work,]"
but to make ourselves an example."(2 Thess. 3.)

Instead of this, manual labor has been made dishonorable and unrefined
by being forced on the ignorant and poor. Especially has the most important
of all hand-labor, that which sustains the family, been thus disgraced; so
that to nurse young children, and provide the food of a family by labor, is
deemed the lowest of all positions in honor and profit, and the last resort of
poverty. And so our Lord, who himself took the form of a servant, teaches,
"How hardly shall they that have riches enter the kingdom of heaven!"—
that kingdom in which all are toiling to raise the weak, ignorant, and sinful
to such equality with themselves as the children of a loving family enjoy.
One mode in which riches have led to antagonism with the true end of the
family state is in the style of living, by which the hand-labor, most
important to health, comfort, and beauty, is confined to the most ignorant
and neglected members of society, without any effort being made to raise
them to equal advantages with the wise and cultivated.

And, the higher civilization has advanced, the more have children been
trained to feel that to labor, as did Christ and Paul, is disgraceful, and to be
made the portion of a degraded class. Children, of the rich grow up with the
feeling that servants are to work for them, and they themselves are not to
work. To the minds of most children and servants, "to be a lady," is almost
synonymous with "to be waited on, and do no work," It is the earnest desire

of the authors of this volume to make plain the falsity of this growing
popular feeling, and to show how much happier and more efficient family
life will become when it is strengthened, sustained, and adorned by family
work.

II.

A CHRISTIAN HOUSE.

In the Divine Word it is written, "The wise woman buildeth her house."
To be "wise," is "to choose the best means for accomplishing the best end."
It has been shown that the best end for a woman to seek is the training of
God's children for their eternal home, by guiding them to intelligence,
virtue, and true happiness. When, therefore, the wise woman seeks a home
in which to exercise this ministry, she will aim to secure a house so planned
that it will provide in the best manner for health, industry, and economy,
those cardinal requisites of domestic enjoyment and success. To aid in this,
is the object of the following drawings and descriptions, which will
illustrate a style of living more conformed to the great design for which the
family is instituted than that which ordinarily prevails among those classes
which take the lead in forming the customs of society. The aim will be to
exhibit modes of economizing labor, time, and expenses, so as to secure
health, thrift, and domestic happiness to persons of limited means, in a
measure rarely attained even by those who possess wealth.

At the head of this chapter is a sketch of what may be properly called a
Christian house; that is, a house contrived for the express purpose of
enabling every member of a family to labor with the hands for the common
good, and by modes at once healthful, economical, and tasteful. Of course,

much of the instruction conveyed in the following pages is chiefly
applicable to the wants and habits of those living either in the country or in
such suburban vicinities as give space of ground for healthful outdoor
occupation in the family service, although the general principles of house-
building and house-keeping are of necessity universal in their application—
as true in the busy confines of the city as in the freer and purer quietude of
the country. So far as circumstances can be made to yield the opportunity, it
will be assumed that the family state demands some outdoor labor for all.
The cultivation of flowers to ornament the table and house, of fruits and
vegetables for food, of silk and cotton for clothing, and the care of horse,
cow, and dairy, can be so divided that each and all of the family, some part
of the day, can take exercise in the pure air, under the magnetic and
healthful rays of the sun. Every head of a family should seek a soil and
climate which will afford such opportunities. Railroads, enabling men
toiling in cities to rear families in the country, are on this account a special
blessing. So, also, is the opening of the South to free labor, where, in the
pure and mild climate of the uplands, open-air labor can proceed most of
the year, and women and children labor out of doors as well as within.

In the following drawings are presented modes of economizing time,
labor, and expense by the close packing of conveniences. By such methods,
small and economical houses can be made to secure most of the comforts
and many of the refinements of large and expensive ones. The cottage at the
head of this chapter is projected on a plan which can be adapted to a warm
or cold climate with little change. By adding another story, it would serve a
large family.

[Illustration: Fig. 1.]

Fig. 1 shows the ground-plan of the first floor. On the inside it is forty-
three feet long and twenty-five wide, excluding conservatories and front

and back projections. Its inside height from floor to ceiling is ten feet. The
piazzas each side of the front projection have sliding-windows to the floor,
and can, by glazed sashes, be made green-houses in winter. In a warm
climate, piazzas can be made at the back side also.

In the description and arrangement, the leading aim is to show how time,
labor, and expense are saved, not only in the building but in furniture and its
arrangement. With this aim, the ground-floor and its furniture will first be
shown, then the second story and its furniture, and then the basement and its
conveniences. The conservatories are appendages not necessary to
housekeeping, but useful in many ways pointed out more at large in other
chapters.

[Illustration: Fig. 2]

The entry has arched recesses behind the front doors, (Fig. 2,) furnished
with hooks for over-clothes in both—a box for over-shoes in one, and a
stand for umbrellas in the other. The roof of the recess is for statuettes,
busts, or flowers. The stairs turn twice with broad steps, making a recess at
the lower landing, whore a table is set with a vase of flowers, (Fig. 3.) On
one side of the recess is a closet, arched to correspond with the arch over
the stairs. A bracket over the first broad stair, with flowers or statuettes, is
visible from the entrance, and pictures can be hung as in the illustration.

The large room on the left can be made to serve the purpose of several
rooms by means of a movable screen. By shifting this rolling screen from
one part of the room to another, two apartments are always available, of any
desired size within the limits of the large room. One side of the screen
fronts what may be used as the parlor or sitting-room; the other side is
arranged for bedroom conveniences. Of this, Fig. 4 shows the front side;—
covered first with strong canvas, stretched and nailed on. Over this is pasted
panel-paper, and the upper part is made to resemble an ornamental cornice

by fresco-paper. Pictures can be hung in the panels, or be pasted on and
varnished with white varnish. To prevent the absorption of the varnish, a
wash of gum isinglass (fish-glue) must be applied twice.

[Illustration: Fig. 4. CLOSET, RECESS, STAIR LANDING.]

[Illustration: Fig 5.]

Fig. 5 shows the back or inside of the movable screen toward the part of
the room used as the bedroom. On one side, and at the top and bottom, it
has shelves with shelf-boxes, which are cheaper and better than drawers,
and much preferred by those using them. Handles are cut in the front and
back side, as seen in Fig. 6. Half an inch space must be between the box and
the shelf over it, and as much each side, so that it can be taken out and put
in easily. The central part of the screen's interior is a wardrobe.

[Image: Panel screens]

This screen must be so high as nearly to reach the ceiling, in order to
prevent it from overturning. It is to fill the width of the room, except two
feet on each side. A projecting cleat or strip, reaching nearly to the top of
the screen, three inches wide, is to be screwed to the front sides, on which
light frame doors are to be hung, covered with canvas and panel-paper like
the front of the screen. The inside of these doors is furnished with hooks for
clothing, for which the projection makes room. The whole screen is to be
eighteen inches deep at the top and two feet deep at the base, giving a solid
foundation. It is moved on four wooden rollers, one foot long and four
inches in diameter. The pivots of the rollers and the parts where there is
friction must be rubbed with hard soap, and then a child can move the
whole easily.

A curtain is to be hung across the whole interior of the screen by rings,
on a strong wire. The curtain should be in three parts, with lead or large
nails in the hems to keep it in place. The wood-work must be put together
with screws, as the screen is too large to pass through a, door.

[Illustration: Fig. 6.]
[Illustration: Fig. 7.]
[Illustration: Fig. 8.]

At the end of the room, behind the screen, are two couches, to be run one
under the other, as in Fig. 7. The upper one is made with four posts, each
three feet high and three inches square, set on casters two inches high. The
frame is to be fourteen inches from the floor, seven feet long, two feet four
inches wide, and three inches in thickness. At the head, and at the foot, is to
be screwed a notched two-inch board, three inches wide, as in Fig. 8. The
mortises are to be one inch wide and deep, and one inch apart, to revive
slats made of ash, oak, or spruce, one inch square, placed lengthwise of the
couch. The slats being small, and so near together, and running lengthwise,
make a better spring frame than wire coils. If they warp, they can be turned.
They must not be fastened at the ends, except by insertion in the notches.
Across the posts, and of equal height with them, are to be screwed head and
foot-boards.

The under couch is like the upper, except these dimensions: posts, nine
inches high, including castors; frame, six feet two inches long, two feet four
inches wide. The frame should be as near the floor as possible, resting on
the casters.

[Illustration: Fig. 9.]

The most healthful and comfortable mattress is made by a case, open in
the centre and fastened together with buttons, as in Fig. 9; to be filled with

oat straw, which is softer than wheat or rye. This can be adjusted to the
figure, and often renewed.

Fig. 10 represents the upper couch when covered, with the under couch
put beneath it. The coverlid should match the curtain of the screen; and the
pillows, by day, should have a case of the same.

[Illustration: Fig. 10.]
[Illustration: Fig. 11.]

Fig. 11 is an ottoman, made as a box, with a lid on hinges. A cushion is
fastened to this lid by strings at each corner, passing through holes in the
box lid and tied inside. The cushion to be cut square, with side pieces;
stuffed with hair, and stitched through like a mattress. Side handles are
made by cords fastened inside with knots. The box must be two inches
larger at the bottom than at the top, and the lid and cushion the same size as
the bottom, to give it a tasteful shape. This ottoman is set on casters, and is
a great convenience for holding articles, while serving also as a seat.

The expense of the screen, where lumber averages $4 a hundred, and
carpenter labor $3 a day, would be about $30, and the two couches about
$6. The material for covering might be cheap and yet pretty. A woman with
these directions, and a son or husband who would use plane and saw, could
thus secure much additional room, and also what amounts to two bureaus,
two large trunks, one large wardrobe, and a wash-stand, for less than $20—
the mere cost of materials. The screen and couches can be so arranged as to
have one room serve first as a large and airy sleeping-room; then, in the
morning, it may be used as sitting-room one side of the screen, and
breakfast-room the other; and lastly, through the day it can be made a large
parlor on the front side, and a sewing or retiring-room the other side. The
needless spaces usually devoted to kitchen, entries, halls, back-stairs,

pantries, store-rooms, and closets, by this method would be used in adding
to the size of the large room, so variously used by day and by night.

[Illustration: Fig. 12.]

Fig. 12 is an enlarged plan of the kitchen and stove-room. The chimney
and stove-room are contrived to ventilate the whole house, by a mode
exhibited in another chapter.

Between the two rooms glazed sliding-doors, passing each other, serve to
shut out heat and smells from the kitchen. The sides of the stove-room must
be lined with shelves; those on the side by the cellar stairs, to be one foot
wide, and eighteen inches apart; on the other side, shelves may be narrower,
eight inches wide and nine inches apart. Boxes with lids, to receive stove
utensils, must be placed near the stove.

On these shelves, and in the closet and boxes, can be placed every
material used for cooking, all the table and cooking utensils, and all the
articles used in house work, and yet much spare room will be left. The
cook's galley in a steamship has every article and utensil used in cooking
for two hundred persons, in a space not larger than this stove-room, and so
arranged that with one or two steps the cook can reach all he uses.

In contrast to this, in most large houses, the table furniture, the cooking
materials and utensils, the sink, and the eating-room, are at such distances
apart, that half the time and strength is employed in walking back and forth
to collect and return the articles used.

[Illustration: Fig. 13.]

Fig. 13 is an enlarged plan of the sink and cooking-form. Two windows
make a better circulation of air in warm weather, by having one open at top

and the other at the bottom, while the light is better adjusted for working, in
case of weak eyes.

The flour-barrel just fills the closet, which has a door for admission, and
a lid to raise when used. Beside it, is the form for cooking, with a
moulding-board laid on it; one side used for preparing vegetables and meat,
and the other for moulding bread. The sink has two pumps, for well and for
rain-water—one having a forcing power to throw water into the reservoir in
the garret, which supplies the water-closet and bath-room. On the other side
of the sink is the dish-drainer, with a ledge on the edge next the sink, to
hold the dishes, and grooves cut to let the water drain into the sink. It has
hinges, so that it can either rest on the cook-form or be turned over and
cover the sink. Under the sink are shelf-boxes placed on two shelves run
into grooves, with other grooves above and below, so that one may move
the shelves and increase or diminish the spaces between. The shelf-boxes
can be used for scouring-materials, dish-towels, and dish-cloths; also to
hold bowls for bits of butter, fats, etc. Under these two shelves is room for
two pails, and a jar for soap-grease.

Under the cook-form are shelves and shelf-boxes for unbolted wheat,
corn-meal, rye, etc. Beneath these, for white and brown sugar, are wooden
can-pails, which are the best articles in which to keep these constant
necessities. Beside them is the tin molasses-can with a tight, movable cover,
and a cork in the spout. This is much better than a jug for molasses, and also
for vinegar and oil, being easier to clean and to handle. Other articles and
implements for cooking can be arranged on or under the shelves at the side
and front. A small cooking-tray, holding pepper, salt, dredging-box, knife
and spoon, should stand close at hand by the stove, (Fig. 14.)

[Illustration: Fig. 14.]
[Illustration: Fig. 15.]

The articles used for setting tables are to be placed on the shelves at the
front and side of the sink. Two tumbler-trays, made of pasteboard, covered
with varnished fancy papers and divided by wires, (as shown in Fig. 15,)
save many steps in setting and clearing table. Similar trays, (Fig. 16,) for
knives and forks and spoons, serve the same purpose.

[Illustration: Fig. 16.]

The sink should be three feet long and three inches deep, its width
matching the cook-form.

[Illustration: Fig. 18.]

Fig. 17 is the second or attic story. The main objection to attic rooms is
their warmth in summer, owing to the heated roof. This is prevented by so
enlarging the closets each side that their walls meet the ceiling under the
garret floor, thus excluding all the roof. In the bed-chambers, corner
dressing-tables, as Fig. 18, instead of projecting bureaus, save much space
for use, and give a handsome form and finish to the room. In the bath-room
must be the opening to the garret, and a step-ladder to reach it. A reservoir
in the garret, supplied by a forcing-pump in the cellar or at the sink, must be
well supported by timbers, and the plumbing must be well done, or much
annoyance will ensue.

The large chambers are to be lighted by large windows or glazed sliding-
doors, opening upon the balcony. A roof can be put over the balcony and its
sides inclosed by windows, and the chamber extend into it, and be thus
much enlarged.

The water-closets must have the latest improvements for safe discharge,
and there will be no trouble. They cost no more than an out-door building,
and save from the most disagreeable house-labor. A great improvement,

called earth-closets, will probably take the place of water-closets to some
extent; though at present the water is the more convenient. A description of
the earth-closet will be given in another chapter relating to tenement-houses
for the poor in large cities.

The method of ventilating all the chambers, and also the cellar, will be
described in another chapter.

[Illustration: Fig. 19.]

Fig. 19 represents a shoe-bag, that can be fastened to the side of a closet
or closet-door.

[Illustration: Fig. 20.]

Fig. 20 represents a piece-bag, and is a very great labor and space-saving
invention. It is made of calico, and fastened to the side of a closet or a door,
to hold all the bundles that are usually stowed in trunks and drawers. India-
rubber or elastic tape drawn into hems to hold the contents of the bag is
better than tape-strings. Each bag should be labeled with the name of its
contents, written with indelible ink on white tape sewed on to the bag. Such
systematic arrangement saves much time and annoyance. Drawers or trunks
to hold these articles can not be kept so easily in good order, and moreover,
occupy spaces saved by this contrivance.

[Illustration: Fig. 21. Floor plan]

Fig. 21 is the basement. It has the floor and sides plastered, and is lighted
with glazed doors. A form is raised close by the cellar stairs, for baskets,
pails, and tubs. Here, also, the refrigerator can be placed, or, what is better,
an ice-closet can be made, as designated in the illustration. The floor of the
basement must be an inclined plane toward a drain, and be plastered with

water-lime. The wash-tubs have plugs in the bottom to let off water, and
cocks and pipes over them bringing cold water from the reservoir in the
garret and hot water from the laundry stove. This saves much heavy labor of
emptying tubs and carrying water.

The laundry closet has a stove for heating irons, and also a kettle on top
for heating water. Slides or clothes-frames are made to draw out to receive
wet clothes, and then run into the closet to dry. This saves health as well as
time and money, and the clothes are as white as when dried outdoors.

The wood-work of the house, for doors, windows, etc., should be oiled
chestnut, butternut, white-wood, and pine. This is cheaper, handsomer, and
more easy to keep clean than painted wood.

In Fig. 21 are planned two conservatories, and few understand their value
in the training of the young. They provide soil, in which children, through
the winter months, can be starting seeds and plants for their gardens find
raising valuable, tender plants. Every child should cultivate flowers and
fruits to sell and to give away, and thus be taught to learn the value of
money and to practice both economy and benevolence.

According to the calculation of a house-carpenter, in a place where the
average price of lumber is $4 a hundred, and carpenter work $3 a day, such
a house can be built for $1600. For those practicing the closest economy,
two small families could occupy it, by dividing the kitchen, and yet have
room enough. Or one large room and the chamber over it can be left till
increase of family and means require enlargement.

A strong horse and carryall, with a cow, garden, vineyard, and orchard,
on a few acres, would secure all the substantial comforts found in great
establishments, without the trouble of ill-qualified servants.

And if the parents and children were united in the daily labors of the
house, garden, and fruit culture; such thrift, health, and happiness would be
secured as is but rarely found among the rich.

Let us suppose a colony of cultivated and Christian people, having
abundant wealth, who now are living as the wealthy usually do, emigrating
to some of the beautiful Southern uplands, where are rocks, hills, valleys,
and mountains as picturesque as those of New England, where the
thermometer but rarely reaches 90 degrees in summer, and in winter as
rarely sinks below freezing-point, so that outdoor labor goes on all the year,
where the fertile soil is easily worked, where rich tropical fruits and flowers
abound, where cotton and silk can be raised by children around their home,
where the produce of vineyards and orchards finds steady markets by
railroads ready made; suppose such a colony, with a central church and
school-room, library, hall for sports, and a common laundry, (taking the
most trying part of domestic labor from each house,)—suppose each family
to train the children to labor with the hands as a healthful and honorable
duty; suppose all this, which is perfectly practicable, would not the
enjoyment of this life be increased, and also abundant treasures be laid up
in heaven, by using the wealth thus economized in diffusing similar
enjoyments and culture among the poor, ignorant, and neglected ones in
desolated sections where many now are perishing for want of such Christian
example and influences?

III.

A HEALTHFUL HOME.

When "the wise woman buildeth her house," the first consideration will
be the health of the inmates. The first and most indispensable requisite for
health is pure air, both by day and night.

If the parents of a family should daily withhold from their children a
large portion of food needful to growth and health, and every night should
administer to each a small dose of poison, it would be called murder of the
most hideous character. But it is probable that more than one half of this
nation are doing that very thing. The murderous operation is perpetrated
daily and nightly, in our parlors, our bed-rooms, our kitchens, our
schoolrooms; and even our churches are no asylum from the barbarity. Nor
can we escape by our railroads, for even there the same dreadful work is
going on.

The only palliating circumstance is the ignorance of those who commit
these wholesale murders. As saith the Scripture, "The people do perish for
lack of knowledge." And it is this lack of knowledge which it is woman's
special business to supply, in first training her household to intelligence as
the indispensable road to virtue and happiness.

The above statements will be illustrated by some account of the manner
in which the body is supplied with healthful nutriment. There are two
modes of nourishing the body, one is by food and the other by air. In the
stomach the food is dissolved, and the nutritious portion is absorbed by the
blood, and then is earned by blood-vessels to the lungs, where it receives
oxygen from the air we breathe. This oxygen is as necessary to the
nourishment of the body as the food for the stomach. In a full-grown man
weighing one hundred and fifty-four pounds, one hundred and eleven
pounds consists of oxygen, obtained chiefly from the air we breathe. Thus
the lungs feed the body with oxygen, as really as the stomach supplies the
other food required.

The lungs occupy the upper portion of the body from the collar-bone to
the lower ribs, and between their two lobes is placed the heart.

[Illustration: Fig. 22.]
[Illustration: Fig. 23.]
[Illustration: Fig. 24.]
[Illustration: Fig. 25.]
[Illustration: Fig. 26.]

Fig. 22 shows the position of the lungs, though not the exact shape. On
the right hand is the exterior of one of the lobes, and on the left hand are
seen the branching tubes of the interior, through which the air we breathe
passes to the exceedingly minute air-cells of which the lungs chiefly
consist. Fig. 23 shows the outside of a cluster of these air-cells, and Fig. 24
is the inside view. The lining membrane of each air-cell is covered by a
network of minute blood-vessels called capillaries which, magnified
several hundred times, appear in the microscope as at Fig. 25. Every air-cell
has a blood-vessel that brings blood from the heart, which meanders
through its capillaries till it reaches another blood-vessel that carries it back

to the heart, as seen in Fig. 26. In this passage of the blood through these
capillaries, the air in the air-cell imparts its oxygen to the blood, and
receives in exchange carbonic acid and watery vapor. These latter are
expired at every breath into the atmosphere.

By calculating the number of air cells in a small portion of the lungs,
under a microscope, it is ascertained that there are no less than eighteen
million of these wonderful little purifiers and feeders of the body. By their
ceaseless ministries, every grown person receives, each day, thirty-three
hogsheads of air into the lungs to nourish and vitalize every part of the
body, and also to carry off its impurities.

But the heart has a most important agency in this operation. Fig. 27 is a
diagram of the heart, which is placed between the two lobes of the lungs.
The right side of the heart receives the dark and impure blood, which is
loaded with carbonic acid. It is brought from every point of the body by
branching veins that unite in the upper and the lower vena cava, which
discharge into the right side of the heart. This impure blood passes to the
capillaries of the air-cells in the lungs, where it gives off carbonic acid, and,
taking oxygen from the air, then returns to the left side of the heart, from
whence it is sent out through the aorta and its myriad branching arteries to
every part of the body. When the upper portion of the heart contracts, it
forces both the pure blood from the lungs, and the impure blood from the
body, through the valves marked V, V, into the lower part. When the lower
portion contracts, it closes the valves and forces the impure blood into the
lungs on one side, and also on the other side forces the purified blood
through the aorta and arteries to all parts of the body.

As before stated, the lungs consist chiefly of air-cells, the walls of which
are lined with minute blood-vessels; and we know that in every man these
air-cells number eighteen millions.

Now every beat of the heart sends two ounces of blood into the minute,
hair-like blood-vessels, called capillaries, that line these air-cells, where the
air in the air-cells gives its oxygen to the blood, and in its place receives
carbonic acid. This gas is then expired by the lungs into the surrounding
atmosphere.

Thus, by this powerful little organ, the heart, no less than twenty-eight
pounds of blood, in a common-sized man, is sent three times every hour
through the lungs, giving out carbonic acid and watery vapor, and receiving
the life-inspiring oxygen.

Whether all this blood shall convey the nourishing and invigorating
oxygen to every part of the body, or return unrelieved of carbonic acid,
depends entirely on the pureness of the atmosphere that is breathed.

Every time we think or feel, this mental action dissolves some particles
of the brain and nerves, which pass into the blood to be thrown out of the
body through the lungs and skin. In like manner, whenever we move any
muscle, some of its particles decay and pass away. It is in the capillaries,
which are all over the body, that this change takes place. The blood-vessels
that convey the pure blood from the heart, divide into myriads of little
branches that terminate in capillary vessels like those lining the air-cells of
the lungs. The blood meanders through these minute capillaries, depositing
the oxygen taken from the lungs and the food of the stomach, and receiving
in return the decayed matter, which is chiefly carbonic acid.

This carbonic acid is formed by the union of oxygen with carbon or
charcoal, which forms a large portion of the body. Watery vapor is also
formed in the capillaries by the union of oxygen with the hydrogen
contained in the food and drink that nourish the body.

During this process in the capillaries, the bright red blood of the arteries
changes to the purple blood of the veins, which is carried back to the heart,
to be sent to the lungs as before described. A portion of the oxygen received
in the lungs unites with the dissolved food sent from the stomach into the
blood, and no food can nourish the body till it has received a proper supply
of oxygen in the lungs. At every breath a half-pint of blood receives its
needed oxygen in the lungs, and at the same time gives out an equal amount
of carbonic acid and water.

Now, this carbonic acid, if received into the lungs, undiluted by sufficient
air, is a fatal poison, causing certain death. When it is mixed with only a
small portion of air, it is a slow poison, which imperceptibly undermines the
constitution.

We now can understand how it is that all who live in houses where the
breathing of inmates has deprived the air of oxygen, and loaded it with
carbonic acid, may truly be said to be poisoned and starved; poisoned with
carbonic acid, and starved for want of oxygen.

Whenever oxygen unites with carbon to form carbonic acid, or with
hydrogen to form water, heat is generated Thus it is that a land of
combustion is constantly going on in the capillaries all over the body. It is
this burning of the decaying portions of the body that causes animal heat. It
is a process similar to that which takes place when lamps and candles are
burning. The oil and tallows which are chiefly carbon and hydrogen, unite
with the oxygen of the air and form carbonic acid and watery vapor,
producing heat during the process. So in the capillaries all over the body,
the carbon and hydrogen supplied to the blood by the stomach, unite with
the oxygen gained in the lungs, and cause the heat which is diffused all over
the body.

The skin also performs an office, similar to that of the lungs. In the skin
of every adult there are no less than seven million minute perspirating
tubes, each one fourth of an inch long. If all these were united in one length,
they would extend twenty-eight miles. These minute tubes are lined with
capillary blood-vessels, which are constantly sending out not only carbonic
acid, but other gases and particles of decayed matter. The skin and lungs
together, in one day and night, throw out three quarters of a pound of
charcoal as carbonic acid, beside other gases and water.

While the bodies of men and animals are filling the air with the
poisonous carbonic acid, and using up the life-giving oxygen, the trees and
plants are performing an exactly contrary process; for they are absorbing
carbonic acid and giving out oxygen. Thus, by a wonderful arrangement of
the beneficent Creator, a constant equilibrium is preserved. What animals
use is provided by vegetables, and what vegetables require is furnished by
animals; and all goes on, day and night, without care or thought of man.

The human race in its infancy was placed in a mild and genial clime,
where each separate family dwelt in tents, and breathed, both day and night,
the pure air of heaven. And when they became scattered abroad to colder
climes, the open fire-place secured a full supply of pure air. But civilization
has increased economies and conveniences far ahead of the knowledge
needed by the common people for their healthful use. Tight sleeping-rooms,
and close, air-tight stoves, are now starving and poisoning more than one
half of this nation. It seems impossible to make people know their danger.
And the remedy for this is the light of knowledge and intelligence which it
is woman's special mission to bestow, as she controls and regulates the
ministries of a home.

The poisoning process is thus exhibited in Mrs. Stowe's "House and
Home Papers," and can not be recalled too often:

"No other gift of God, so precious, so inspiring, is treated with such utter
irreverence and contempt in the calculations of us mortals as this same air
of heaven. A sermon on oxygen, if we had a preacher who understood the
subject, might do more to repress sin than the most orthodox discourse to
show when and how and why sin came. A minister gets up in a crowded
lecture-room, where the mephitic air almost makes the candles burn blue,
and bewails the deadness of the church—the church the while, drugged by
the poisoned air, growing sleepier and sleepier, though they feel dreadfully
wicked for being so.

"Little Jim, who, fresh from his afternoon's ramble in the fields, last
evening said his prayers dutifully, and lay down to sleep in a most Christian
frame, this morning sits up in bed with his hair bristling with crossness,
strikes at his nurse, and declares he won't say his prayers—that he don't
want to be good. The simple difference is, that the child, having slept in a
close box of a room, his brain all night fed by poison, is in a mild state of
moral insanity. Delicate women remark that it takes them till eleven or
twelve o'clock to get up their strength in the morning. Query, Do they sleep
with closed windows and doors, and with heavy bed-curtains?

"The houses built by our ancestors were better ventilated in certain
respects than modern ones, with all their improvements. The great central
chimney, with its open fire-places in the different rooms, created a constant
current which carried off foul and vitiated air. In these days, how common
is it to provide rooms with only a flue for a stove! This flue is kept shut in
summer, and in winter opened only to admit a close stove, which burns
away the vital portion of the air quite as fast as the occupants breathe it
away. The sealing up of fire-places and introduction of air-tight stoves may,
doubtless, be a saving of fuel; it saves, too, more than that; in thousands and
thousands of cases it has saved people from all further human wants, and
put an end forever to any needs short of the six feet of narrow earth which

are man's only inalienable property. In other words, since the invention of
air-tight stoves, thousands have died of slow poison.

"It is a terrible thing to reflect upon, that our northern winters last from
November to May, six long months, in which many families confine
themselves to one room, of which every window-crack has been carefully
calked to make it air-tight, where an air-tight stove keeps the atmosphere at
a temperature between eighty and ninety; and the inmates, sitting there with
all their winter clothes on, become enervated both by the heat and by the
poisoned air, for which there is no escape but the occasional opening of a
door.

"It is no wonder that the first result of all this is such a delicacy of skin
and lungs that about half the inmates are obliged to give up going into the
open air during the six cold months, because they invariably catch cold if
they do so. It is no wonder that the cold caught about the first of December
has by the first of March become a fixed consumption, and that the opening
of the spring, which ought to bring life and health, in so many cases brings
death.

"We hear of the lean condition in which the poor bears emerge from their
six months' wintering, during which they subsist on the fat which they have
acquired the previous summer. Even so, in our long winters, multitudes of
delicate people subsist on the daily waning strength which they acquired in
the season when windows and doors were open, and fresh air was a
constant luxury. No wonder we hear of spring fever and spring biliousness,
and have thousands of nostrums for clearing the blood in the spring. All
these things are the pantings and palpitations of a system run down under
slow poison, unable to get a step further.

"Better, far better, the old houses of the olden time, with their great
roaring fires, and their bed-rooms where the snow came in and the wintry

winds whistled. Then, to be sure, you froze your back while you burned
your face, your water froze nightly in your pitcher, your breath congealed in
ice-wreaths on the blankets, and you could write your name on the pretty
snow-wreath that had sifted in through the window-cracks. But you woke
full of life and vigor, you looked out into the whirling snow-storms without
a shiver, and thought nothing of plunging through drifts as high as your
head on your daily way to school. You jingled in sleighs, you snow-balled,
you lived in snow like a snow-bird, and your blood coursed and tingled, in
full tide of good, merry, real life, through your veins—none of the slow-
creeping, black blood which clogs the brain and lies like a weight on the
vital wheels!"

To illustrate the effects of this poison, the horrors of "the Black Hole of
Calcutta" are often referred to, where one hundred and forty-six men were
crowded into a room only eighteen feet square with but two small windows,
and in a hot climate. After a night of such horrible torments as chill the
blood to read, the morning showed a pile of one hundred and twenty-three
dead men and twenty-three half dead that were finally recovered only to a
life of weakness and suffering.

In another case, a captain of the steamer Londonderry, in 1848, from
sheer ignorance of the consequences, in a storm, shut up his passengers in a
tight room without windows. The agonies, groans, curses, and shrieks that
followed were horrible. The struggling mass finally burst the door, and the
captain found seventy-two of the two hundred already dead; while others,
with blood starting from their eyes and ears, and their bodies in
convulsions, were restored, many only to a life of sickness and debility.

It is ascertained by experiments that breathing bad air tends so to reduce
all the processes of the body, that less oxygen is demanded and less
carbonic acid sent out. This, of course, lessens the vitality and weakens the

constitution; and it accounts for the fact that a person of full health,
accustomed to pure air, suffers from bad air far more than those who are
accustomed to it. The body of strong and healthy persons demands more
oxygen, and throws off more carbonic acid, and is distressed when the
supply fails. But the one reduced by bad air feels little inconvenience,
because all the functions of life are so slow that less oxygen is needed, and
less carbonic acid thrown out. And the sensibilities being deadened, the evil
is not felt. This provision of nature prolongs many lives, though it turns
vigorous constitutions into feeble ones. Were it not for this change in the
constitution, thousands in badly ventilated rooms and houses would come to
a speedy death.

One of the results of unventilated rooms is scrofula, A distinguished
French physician, M. Baudeloque, states that:

"The repeated respiration of the same atmosphere is the cause of scrofula.
If there be entirely pure air, there may be bad food, bad clothing, and want
of personal cleanliness, but scrofulous disease can not exist. This disease
never attacks persons who pass their lives in the open air, and always
manifests itself when they abide in air which is unrenewed. Invariably it
will be found that a truly scrofulous disease is caused by vitiated air; and it
is not necessary that there should be a prolonged stay in such an
atmosphere. Often, several hours each day is sufficient. Thus persons may
live in the most healthy country, pass most of the day in the open air, and
yet become scrofulous by sleeping in a close room where the air is not
renewed. This is the case with many shepherds who pass their nights in
small huts with no opening but a door closed tight at night."

The same writer illustrates this, by the history of a French village where
the inhabitants all slept in close, unventilated houses. Nearly all were seized
with scrofula, and many families became wholly extinct, their last members

dying "rotten with scrofula." A fire destroyed a large part of this village.
Houses were then built to secure pure air, and scrofula disappeared from the
part thus rebuilt.

We are informed by medical writers that defective ventilation is one great
cause of diseased joints, as well as of diseases of the eyes, ears, and skin.

Foul air is the leading cause of tubercular and scrofulous consumption, so
very common in our country. Dr, Guy, in his examination before public
health commissioners in Great Britain, says: "Deficient ventilation I believe
to be more fatal than all other causes put together." He states that
consumption is twice as common among tradesmen as among the gentry,
owing to the bad ventilation of their stores and dwellings.

Dr. Griscom, in his work on Uses and Abuses of Air, says:

"Food carried from the stomach to the blood can not become nutritive till
it is properly oxygenated in the lungs; so that a small quantity of food, even
if less wholesome, may be made nutritive by pure air as it passes through
the lungs. But the best of food can not be changed into nutritive blood till it
is vitalized by pure air in the lungs."

And again:

"To those who have the care and instruction of the rising generation—the
future fathers and mothers of men—this subject of ventilation commends
itself with an interest surpassing every other. Nothing can more
convincingly establish the belief in the existence of something vitally
wrong in the habits and circumstances of civilized life than the appalling
fact that one fourth of all who are born die before reaching the fifth year,
and one half the deaths of mankind occur under the twentieth year. Let
those who have these things in charge answer to their own consciences how

they discharge their duty in supplying to the young a pure atmosphere,
which is the first requisite for healthy bodies and sound minds."

On the subject of infant mortality the experience of savages should teach
the more civilized. Professor Brewer, who traveled extensively among the
Indians of our western territories, states: "I have rarely seen a sick boy
among the Indians." Catlin, the painter, who resided and traveled so much
among these people, states that infant mortality is very small among them,
the reason, of course, being abundant exercise and pure air.

Dr. Dio Lewis, whose labors in the cause of health are well known, in his
very useful work, Weak Lungs and How to Make them Strong, says:

"As a medical man I have visited thousands of sickrooms, and have not
found in one in a hundred of them a pure atmosphere. I have often returned
from church doubting whether I had not committed a sin in exposing myself
so long to its poisonous air. There are in our great cities churches costing
$50,000, in the construction of which, not fifty cents were expended in
providing means for ventilation. Ten thousand dollars for ornament, but not
ten cents for pure air!

"Unventilated parlors, with gas-burners, (each consuming as much
oxygen as several men,) made as tight as possible, and a party of ladies and
gentlemen spending half the night in them! In 1861, I visited a legislative
hall, the legislature being in session. I remained half an hour in the most
impure air I ever breathed. Our school-houses are, some of them, so vile in
this respect, that I would prefer to have my son remain in utter ignorance of
books rather than to breathe, six hours every day, such a poisonous
atmosphere. Theatres and concert-rooms are so foul that only reckless
people continue to visit them. Twelve hours in a railway-car exhausts one,
not by the journeying, but because of the devitalized air. While crossing the
ocean in a Cunard steamer, I was amazed that men who knew enough to

construct such ships did not know enough to furnish air to the passengers.
The distress of sea-sickness is greatly intensified by the sickening air of the
ship. Were carbonic acid only black, what a contrast there would be
between our hotels in their elaborate ornament!"

"Some time since I visited an establishment where one hundred and fifty
girls, in a single room, were engaged in needle-work. Pale-faced, and with
low vitality and feeble circulation, they were unconscious that they were
breathing air that at once produced in me dizziness and a sense of
suffocation. If I had remained a week with, them, I should, by reduced
vitality, have become unconscious of the vileness of the air!"

There is a prevailing prejudice against night air as unhealthful to be
admitted into sleeping-rooms, which is owing wholly to sheer ignorance. In
the night every body necessarily breathes night air and no other. When
admitted from without into a sleeping-room it is colder, and therefore
heavier, than the air within, so it sinks to the bottom of the room and forces
out an equal quantity of the impure air, warmed and vitiated by passing
through the lungs of inmates. Thus the question is, Shall we shut up a
chamber and breathe night air vitiated with carbonic acid or night air that is
pure? The only real difficulty about night air is, that usually it is damper,
and therefore colder and more likely to chill. This is easily prevented by
sufficient bed-clothing.

One other very prevalent mistake is found even in books written by
learned men. It is often thought that carbonic acid, being heavier than
common air, sinks to the floor of sleeping-rooms, so that the low trundle-
beds for children should not be used. This is all a mistake; for, as a fact, in
close sleeping-rooms the purest air is below and the most impure above. It
is true that carbonic acid is heavier than common air, when pure; but this it
rarely is except in chemical experiments. It is the property of all gases, as

well as of the two (oxygen and nitrogen) composing the atmosphere, that
when brought together they always are entirely mixed, each being equally
diffused exactly as it would be if alone. Thus the carbonic acid from the
skin and lungs, being warmed in the body, rises as does the common air,
with which it mixes, toward the top of a room; so that usually there is more
carbonic acid at the top than at the bottom of a room. [Footnote: Prof.
Brewer, of the Tale Scientific School, says: "As a fact, often demonstrated
by analysis, there is generally more carbonic acid near the ceiling than near
the floor."] Both common air and carbonic acid expand and become lighter
in the same proportions; that is, for every degree of added heat they expand
at the rate of 1/480 of their bulk.

Here, let it be remembered, that in ill-ventilated rooms the carbonic acid
is not the only cause of disease. Experiments seem to prove that other
matter thrown out of the body, through the lungs and skin, is as truly
excrement and in a state of decay as that ejected from the bowels, and as
poisonous to the animal system. Carbonic acid has no odor; but we are
warned by the disagreeable effluvia of close sleeping-rooms of the other
poison thus thrown into the air from the skin and lungs. There is one
provision of nature that is little understood, which saves the lives of
thousands living in unventilated houses; and that is, the passage of pure air
inward and impure air outward through the pores of bricks, wood, stone,
and mortar. Were such dwellings changed to tin, which is not thus porous,
in less than a week thousands and tens of thousands would be in danger of
perishing by suffocation.

These statements give some idea of the evils to be remedied. But the
most difficult point is how to secure the remedy. For often the attempt to
secure pure air by one class of persons brings chills, colds, and disease on
another class, from mere ignorance or mismanagement.

To illustrate this, it must be borne in mind that those who live in warm,
close, and unventilated rooms are much more liable to take cold from
exposure to draughts and cold air than those of vigorous vitality accustomed
to breathe pure air.

Thus the strong and healthy husband, feeling the want of pure air in the
night, and knowing its importance, keeps windows open and makes such
draughts that the wife, who lives all day in a close room and thus is low in
vitality, can not bear the change, has colds, and sometimes perishes a victim
to wrong modes of ventilation.

So, even in health-establishments, the patients will pass most of their
days and nights in badly-ventilated rooms. But at times the physician, or
some earnest patient, insists on a mode of ventilation that brings more evil
than good to the delicate inmates.

The grand art of ventilating houses is by some method that will empty
rooms of the vitiated air and bring in a supply of pure air by small and
imperceptible currents.

But this important duty of a Christian woman is one that demands more
science, care, and attention than almost any other; and yet, to prepare her
for this duty has never been any part of female education. Young women are
taught to draw mathematical diagrams and to solve astronomical problems;
but few, if any, of them are taught to solve the problem of a house
constructed to secure pure and moist air by day and night for all its inmates.

The heating and management of the air we breathe is one of the most
complicated problems of domestic economy, as will be farther illustrated in
the succeeding chapter; and yet it is one of which, most American women
are profoundly ignorant.

IV.

SCIENTIFIC DOMESTIC VENTILATION.

We have seen in the preceding pages the process through which the air is
rendered unhealthful by close rooms and want of ventilation. Every person
inspires air about twenty times each minute, using half a pint each time. At
this rate, every pair of lungs vitiates one hogshead of air every hour. The
membrane that lines the multitudinous air-cells of the lungs in which the
capillaries are, should it be united in one sheet, would cover the floor of a
room twelve feet square. Every breath brings a surface of air in contact with
this extent of capillaries, by which the air inspired gives up most of its
oxygen and receives carbonic acid in its stead. These facts furnish a guide
for the proper ventilation of rooms. Just in proportion to the number of
persons in a room or a house, should be the amount of air brought in and
carried out by arrangements for ventilation. But how rarely is this rule
regarded in building houses or in the care of families by housekeepers!

The evils resulting from the substitution of stoves instead of the open
fireplace, have led scientific and benevolent men to contrive various modes
of supplying pure air to both public and private houses. But as yet little has
been accomplished, except for a few of the more intelligent and wealthy.
The great majority of the American people, owing to sheer ignorance, are,
for want of pure air, being poisoned and starved; the result being weakened
constitutions, frequent disease, and shortened life.

Whenever a family-room is heated by an open fire, it is duly ventilated,
as the impure air is constantly passing off through the chimney, while, to
supply the vacated space, the pure air presses in through the cracks of
doors, windows, and floors. No such supply is gained for rooms warmed by
stoves. And yet, from mistaken motives of economy, as well as from
ignorance of the resulting evils, multitudes of householders are thus
destroying health and shortening life, especially in regard to women and
children who spend most of their time within-doors.

The most successful modes of making "a healthful home" by a full
supply of pure air to every inmate, will now be described and illustrated.

It is the common property of both air and water to expand, become
lighter and rise, just in proportion as they are heated; and therefore it is the
invariable law that cool air sinks, thus replacing the warmer air below.
Thus, whenever cool air enters a warm room, it sinks downward and takes
the place of an equal amount of the warmer air, which is constantly tending
upward and outward. This principle of all fluids is illustrated by the
following experiment:

Take a glass jar about a foot high and three inches in diameter, and with a
wire to aid in placing it aright, sink a small bit of lighted candle so as to
stand in the centre at the bottom. (Fig. 28.) The candle will heat the air of
the jar, which will rise a little on one side, while the colder air without will
begin falling on the other side. These two currents will so conflict as finally
to cease, and then the candle, having no supply of oxygen from fresh air,
will begin to go out. Insert a bit of stiff paper so as to divide the mouth of
the jar, and instantly the cold and warm air are not in conflict as before,
because a current is formed each side of the paper; the cold air descending
on one aide and the warm air ascending the other side, as indicated by the
arrows. As long as the paper remains, the candle will burn, and as soon as it

is removed, it will begin to go out, and can be restored by again inserting
the paper.

[Illustration: Fig. 28]
[Illustration: Fig. 29]

This illustrates the mode by which coal-mines are ventilated when filled
with carbonic acid. A shaft divided into two passages, (Fig. 29,) is let down
into the mine, where the air is warmer than the outside air. Immediately the
colder air outside presses down into the mine, through the passage which is
highest, being admitted by the escape of an equal quantity of the warmer
air, which rises through the lower passage of the shaft, this being the first
available opening for it to rise through. A current is thus created, which
continues as long as the inside air is warmer than that without the mine, and
no longer. Sometimes a fire is kindled in the mine, in order to continue or
increase the warmth, and consequent upward current of its air.

This illustrates one of the cases where a "wise woman that buildeth her
house" is greatly needed. For, owing to the ignorance of architects, house-
builders, and men in general, they have been building school-houses,
dwelling-houses, churches, and colleges, with the most absurd and
senseless contrivances for ventilation, and all from not applying this simple
principle of science. On this point, Prof. Brewer, of the Scientific School of
Yale College, writes thus:

"I have been in public buildings, (I have one in mind now, filled with
dormitories,) which cost half a million, where they attempted to ventilate
every room by a flue, long and narrow, built into partition walls, and
extending up into the capacious garret of the fifth story. Every room in the
building had one such flue, with an opening into it at the floor and at the
ceiling. It is needless to say that the whole concern was entirely useless.

Had these flues been of proper proportions, and properly divided, the
desired ventilation would have been secured."

And this piece of ignorant folly was perpetrated in the midst of learned
professors, teaching the laws of fluids and the laws of health.

A learned physician also thus wrote to the author of this chapter: "The
subject of the ventilation of our dwelling-houses is one of the most
important questions of our times. How many thousands are victims to a
slow suicide and murder, the chief instrument of which is want of
ventilation! How few are aware of the fact that every person, every day,
vitiates thirty-three hogsheads of the air, and that each inspiration takes one
fifth of the oxygen, and returns as much carbonic acid, from every pair of
lungs in a room! How few understand that after air has received ten per cent
of this fatal gas, if drawn into the lungs, it can no longer take carbonic acid
from the capillaries! No wonder there is so much impaired nervous and
muscular energy, so much scrofula, tubercles, catarrhs, dyspepsia, and
typhoid diseases. I hope you can do much to remedy the poisonous air of
thousands and thousands of stove-heated rooms."

In a cold climate and wintry weather, the grand impediment to ventilating
rooms by opening doors or windows is the dangerous currents thus
produced, which are so injurious to the delicate ones that for their sake it
can not be done. Then, also, as a matter of economy, the poor can not afford
to practice a method which carries off the heat generated by their stinted
store of fuel. Even in a warm season and climate, there are frequent periods
when the air without is damp and chilly, and yet at nearly the same
temperature as that in the house. At such times, the opening of windows
often has little effect in emptying a room of vitiated air. The ventilating-
flues, such as are used in mines, have, in such cases, but little influence; for

it is only when outside air is colder that a current can be produced within by
this method.

The most successful mode of ventilating a house is by creating a current
of warm air in a flue, into which an opening is made at both the top and the
bottom of a room, while a similar opening for outside air is made at the
opposite side of the room. This is the mode employed in chemical
laboratories for removing smells and injurious gases.

The laboratory-closet is closed with glazed doors, and has an opening to
receive pure air through a conductor from without. The stove or furnace
within has a pipe which joins a larger cast-iron chimney-pipe, which is
warmed by the smoke it receives from this and other fires. This cast-iron
pipe is surrounded by a brick flue, through which air passes from below to
be warmed by the pipe, and thus an upward current of warm air is created.
Openings are then made at the top and bottom of the laboratory-closet into
the warm-air flue, and the gases and smells are pressed by the colder air
into this flue, and are carried off in the current of warm air.

The same method is employed in the dwelling-house shown in a
preceding chapter. A cast-iron pipe is made in sections, which are to be
united, and the whole fastened at top and bottom in the centre of the warm-
air flue by ears extending to the bricks, and fastened when the flue is in
process of building. Projecting openings to receive the pipes of the furnace,
the laundry stove, and two stoves in each story, should be provided, which
must be closed when not in use. A large opening is to be made into the
warm-air fine, and through this the kitchen stove-pipe is to pass, and be
joined to the cast-iron chimney-pipe. Thus the smoke of the kitchen stove
will warm the iron chimney-pipe, and this will warm the air of the flue,
causing a current upward, and this current will draw the heat and smells of
cooking out of the kitchen into the opening of the warm-air flue. Every

room surrounding the chimney has an opening at the top and bottom into
the warm-air Hue for ventilation, as also have the bathroom and water-
closets.

[Illustration: Fig. 30.]

The writer has examined the methods most employed at the present time,
which are all modifications of the two modes here described. One is that of
Robinson, patented by a Boston company, which is a modification of the
mining mode. It consists of the two ventilating tubes, such as are employed
in mines, united in one shaft with a roof to keep out rain, and a valve to
regulate the entrance and exit of air, as illustrated in Fig. 30. This method
works well in certain circumstances, but fails so often as to prove very
unreliable. Another mode is that of Ruttan, which is effected by heating air.
This also has certain advantages and disadvantages. But the mode adopted
for the preceding cottage plan is free from the difficulties of both the above
methods, while it will surely ventilate every room in the house, both by day
and night, and at all seasons, without any risk to health, and requiring no
attention or care from the family.

By means of a very small amount of fuel in the kitchen stove, to be
described hereafter, the whole house can be ventilated, and all the cooking
done both in warm and cold weather. This stove will also warm the whole
house, in the Northern States, eight or nine months in the year. Two
Franklin stoves, in addition, will warm the whole house during the three or
four remaining coldest months.

In a warm climate or season, by means of the non-conducting castings,
the stove will ventilate the house and do all the cooking, without imparting
heat or smells to any part of the house except the stove-closet.

At the close of this volume, drawings, prepared by Mr. Lewis Leeds, are
given, more fully to illustrate this mode of warming and ventilation, and in
so plain and simple a form that any intelligent woman who has read this
work can see that the plan is properly executed, even with workmen so
entirely ignorant on this important subject as are most house-builders,
especially in the newer territories. In the same article, directions are given
as to the best modes of ventilating houses that are already built without any
arrangements for ventilation.

V. THE CONSTRUCTION AND CARE OF
STOVES, FURNACES, AND CHIMNEYS.

If all American housekeepers could be taught how to select and manage the
most economical and convenient apparatus for cooking and for warming a
house, many millions now wasted by ignorance and neglect would be
saved. Every woman should be taught the scientific principles in regard to
heat, and then their application to practical purposes, for her own benefit,
and also to enable her to train her children and servants in this important
duty of home life on which health and comfort so much depend.

The laws that regulate the generation, diffusion, and preservation of heat
as yet are a sealed mystery to thousands of young women who imagine they
are completing a suitable education in courses of instruction from which
most that is practical in future domestic life is wholly excluded. We
therefore give a brief outline of some of the leading scientific principles
which every housekeeper should understand and employ, in order to
perform successfully one of her most important duties.

Concerning the essential nature of heat, and its intimate relations with the
other great natural forces, light, electricity, etc., we shall not attempt to
treat, but shall, for practical purposes, assume it to be a separate and
independent force. Heat or caloric, then, has certain powers or principles.
Let us consider them:

First, we find Conduction, by which heat passes from one particle to
another next to it; as when one end of a poker is warmed by placing the
other end in the fire. The bodies which allow this power free course are
called conductors, and those which do not are named non-conductors,
Metals are good conductors; feathers, wool, and furs are poor conductors;
and water, air, and gases are non-conductors.

Another principle of heat is Convection, by which water, air, and gases
are warmed. This is, literally, the process of conveying heat from one
portion of a fluid body to another by currents resulting from changes of
temperature. It is secured by bringing one portion of a liquid or gas into
contact with a heated surface, whereby it becomes lighter and expanded in
volume. In consequence, the cooler and heavier particles above pressing
downward, the lighter ones rise upward, when the former, being heated, rise
in their turn, and give place to others again descending from above. Thus a
constant motion of currents and interchange of particles is produced until,
as in a vessel of water, the whole body comes to an equal temperature. Air
is heated in the same way. In case of a hot stove, the air that touches it is
heated, becomes lighter, and rises, giving place to cooler and heavier
particles, which, when heated, also ascend. It is owing to this process that
the air of a room is warmest at the top and coolest at the bottom. It is owing
to this principle, also, that water and air can not be heated by fire from
above. For the particles of these bodies, being non-conductors, do not
impart heat to each other; and when the warmest are at the top, they can not
take the place of cooler and heavier ones below.

Another principle of heat (which it shares with light) is Radiation, by
which all things send out heat to surrounding cooler bodies. Some bodies
will absorb radiated heat, others will reflect it, and others allow it to pass
through them without either absorbing or reflecting Thus, black and rough
substances absorb heat, (or light,) colored and smooth articles reflect it,

while air allows it to pass through without either absorbing or reflecting. It
is owing to this, that rough and black vessels boil water sooner than smooth
and light-colored ones.

Another principle is Reflection, by which heat radiated to a surface is
turned back from it when not absorbed or allowed to pass through; just as a
ball rebounds from a wall; just as sound is thrown back from a hill, making
echo; just as rays of light are reflected from a mirror. And, as with light, the
rays of heat are always reflected from a surface in an angle exactly
corresponding to the direction in which it strikes that surface. Thus, if
heated are comes to an object perpendicularly—that is, at right angles, it
will be reflected back in the same line. If it strikes obliquely, it is reflected
obliquely, at an angle with the surface precisely the same as the angle with
which it first struck. And, of course, if it moves toward the surface and
comes upon it in a line having so small an angle with it as to be almost
parallel with it, the heated air is spread wide and diffused through a larger
space than when the angles are greater and the width of reflection less.

[Illustration: Fig. 31.]
[Illustration: Fig. 32.]
[Illustration: Fig. 33.]

The simplest mode of warming a house and cooking food is by radiated
heat from fires; but this is the most wasteful method, as respects time, labor,
and expense. The most convenient, economical, and labor-saving mode of
employing heat is by convection, as applied in stoves and furnaces. But for
want of proper care and scientific knowledge this method has proved very
destructive to health. When warming and cooking were done by open fires,
houses were well supplied with pure air, as is rarely the case in rooms
heated by stoves. For such is the prevailing ignorance on this subject that,
as long as stoves save labor and warm the air, the great majority of people,

especially among the poor, will use them in ways that involve debilitated
constitutions and frequent disease.

The most common modes of cooking, where open fires are relinquished,
are by the range and the cooking-stove. The range is inferior to the stove in
these respects: it is less economical, demanding much more fuel; it
endangers the dress of the cook while standing near for various operations;
it requires more stooping than the stove while cooking; it will not keep a
fire all night, as do the best stoves; it will not burn wood and coal equally
well; and lastly, if it warms the kitchen sufficiently in winter, it is too warm
for summer. Some prefer it because the fumes of cooking can be carried off;
but stoves properly arranged accomplish this equally well.

After extensive inquiry and many personal experiments, the author has
found a cooking-stove constructed on true scientific principles, which
unites convenience, comfort, and economy in a remarkable manner. Of this
stove, drawings and descriptions will now be given, as the best mode of
illustrating the practical applications of these principles to the art of
cooking, and to show how much American women have suffered and how
much they have been imposed upon for want of proper knowledge in this
branch of their profession. And every woman can understand what follows
with much less effort than young girls at high-schools give to the first
problems of Geometry—for which they will never have any practical use,
while attention to this problem of home affairs will cultivate the intellect
quite as much as the abstract reasonings of Algebra and Geometry.,

[Illustration: Fig. 34.]

Fig. 34 represents a portion of the interior of this cooking-stove. First,
notice the fire-box, which has corrugated (literally, wrinkled) sides, by
which space is economized, so that as much heating surface is secured as if
they were one third larger; as the heat radiates from every part of the

undulating surface, which is one third greater in superficial extent than if it
were plane. The shape of the fire-box also secures more heat by having
oblique sides—which radiate more effectively into the oven beneath than if
they were perpendicular, as illustrated below—while also it is sunk into the
oven, so as to radiate from three instead of from two sides, as in most other
stoves, the front of whose fire-boxes with their grates are built so as to be
the front of the stove itself.

[Illustration: Fig 35. Model Stove]
[Illustration: Fig 36. Ordinary Stove]

The oven is the space under and around the back and front sides of the
fire-box. The oven-bottom is not introduced in the diagram, but it is a
horizontal plate between the fire-box and what is represented as the "flue-
plate," which separates the oven from the bottom of the stove. The top of
the oven is the horizontal corrugated plate passing from the rear edge of the
fire-box to the back flues. These are three in number—the back centre-flue,
which is closed to the heat and smoke coming over the oven from the fire-
box by a damper—and the two back corner-flues. Down these two corner-
flues passes the current of hot air and smoke, having first drawn across the
corrugated oven-top. The arrows show its descent through these flues, from
which it obliquely strikes and passes over the flue-plate, then under it, and
then out through the centre back-flue, which is open at the bottom, up into
the smoke-pipe.

The flue-plate is placed obliquely, to accumulate heat by forcing and
compression; for the back space where the smoke enters from the corner-
flues is largest, and decreases toward the front, so that the hot current is
compressed in a narrow space, between the oven-bottom and the flue-plate
at the place where the bent arrows are seen. Here again it enters a wider
space, under the flue-plate, and proceeds to another narrow one, between

the flue-plate and the bottom of the stove, and thus is compressed and
retained longer than if not impeded by these various contrivances. The heat
and smoke also strike the plate obliquely, and thus, by reflection from its
surface, impart more heat than if the passage was a horizontal one.

The external radiation is regulated by the use of nonconducting plaster
applied to the flue-plate and to the sides of the corner-flues, so that the heat
is prevented from radiating in any direction except toward the oven. The
doors, sides, and bottom of the stove are lined with tin casings, which hold
a stratum of air, also a non-conductor. These are so arranged as to be
removed whenever the weather becomes cold, so that the heat may then
radiate into the kitchen. The outer edges of the oven are also similarly
protected from loss of heat by tin casings and air-spaces, and the oven-
doors opening at the front of the store are provided with the same
economical savers of heat. High tin covers placed on the top prevent the
heat from radiating above the stove. These are exceedingly useful, as the
space under them is well heated and arranged for baking, for heating irons,
and many other incidental necessities. Cake and pies can be baked on the
top, while the oven is used for bread or for meats. When all the casings and
covers are on, almost all the heat is confined within the stove, and whenever
heat for the room is wanted, opening the front oven-doors turns it out into
the kitchen.

Another contrivance is that of ventilating-holes in the front doors,
through which fresh air is brought into the oven. This secures several
purposes: it carries off the fumes of cooking meats, and prevents the mixing
of flavors when different articles are cooked in the oven; it drives the heat
that accumulates between the fire-box and front doors down around the
oven, and equalizes its heat, so that articles need not be moved while
baking; and lastly, as the air passes through the holes of the fire-box, it
causes the burning of gases in the smoke, and thus increases heat. When

wood or bituminous coal is used, perforated metal linings are put in the fire-
box, and the result is the burning of smoke and gases that otherwise would
pass into the chimney. This is a great discovery in the economy of fuel,
which can be applied in many ways.

Heretofore, most cooking-stoves have had dumping-grates, which are
inconvenient from the dust produced, are uneconomical in the use of fuel,
and disadvantageous from too many or too loose joints. But recently this
stove has been provided with a dumping-grate which also will sift ashes,
and can be cleaned without dust and the other objectionable features of
dumping-grates. A further account of this stove, and the mode of purchasing
and using it, will be given at the close of the book.

Those who are taught to manage the stove properly keep the fire going all
night, and equally well with wood or coal, thus saving the expense of
kindling and the trouble of starting a new fire. When the fuel is of good
quality, all that is needed in the morning is to draw the back-damper, snake
the grate, and add more fuel.

Another remarkable feature of this store is the extension-top, on which is
placed a water reservoir, constantly heated by the smoke as it passes from
the stove, through one or two uniting passages, to the smoke-pipe. Under
this is placed a closet for warming and keeping hot the dishes, vegetables,
meats, etc., while preparing for dinner. It is also very useful in drying fruit;
and when large baking is required, a small appended pot for charcoal turns
it into a fine large oven, that bakes as nicely as a brick oven.

Another useful appendage is a common tin oven, in which roasting can
be done in front of the stove, the oven-doors being removed for the purpose.
The roast will be done as perfectly as by an open fire.

This stove is furnished with pipes for heating water, like the water-back
of ranges, and these can be taken or left out at pleasure. So also the top
covers, the baking-stool and pot, and the summer-back, bottom, and side-
casings can be used or omitted as preferred.

[Illustration Fig 37]

Fig. 37 exhibits the stove completed, with all its appendages, as they
might be employed in cooking for a large number.

Its capacity, convenience, and economy as a stove may be estimated by
the following fact: With proper management of dampers, one ordinary-sized
coal-hod of anthracite coal will, for twenty-four hours, keep the stove
running, keep seventeen gallons of water hot at all hours, bake pies and
puddings in the warm closet, heat flat-irons under the back cover, boil tea-
kettle and one pot under the front cover, bake bread in the oven, and cook a
turkey in the tin roaster in front. The author has numerous friends, who,
after trying the best ranges, have dismissed them for this stove, and in two
or three years cleared the whole expense by the saving of fuel.

The remarkable durability of this stove is another economic feature. For
in addition to its fine castings and nice-fitting workmanship, all the parts
liable to burn out are so protected by linings, and other contrivances easily
renewed, that the stove itself may pass from one generation to another, as
do ordinary chimneys. The writer has visited in families where this stove
had been in constant use for eighteen and twenty years, and was still as
good as new. In most other families the stoves are broken, burnt-out, or
thrown aside for improved patterns every four, five, or six years, and
sometimes, to the knowledge of the writer, still oftener.

Another excellent point is that, although it is so complicated in its various
contrivances as to demand intelligent management in order to secure all its

advantages, it also can be used satisfactorily even when the mistress and
maid are equally careless and ignorant of its distinctive merits. To such it
offers all the advantages of ordinary good stoves, and is extensively used by
those who take no pains to understand and apply its peculiar advantages.

But the writer has managed the stove herself in all the details of cooking,
and is confident that any housekeeper of common sense, who is instructed
properly, and who also aims to have her kitchen affairs managed with strict
economy, can easily train any servant who is willing to learn, so as to gain
the full advantages offered. And even without any instructions at all, except
the printed directions sent with the stove, an intelligent woman can, by due
attention, though not without, both manage it, and teach her children and
servants to do likewise. And whenever this stove has failed to give the
highest satisfaction, it has been, either because the housekeeper was not
apprized of its peculiarities, or because she did not give sufficient attention
to the matter, or was not able or willing to superintend and direct its
management.

The consequence has been that, in families where this stove has been
understood and managed aright, it has saved nearly one half of the fuel that
would be used in ordinary stoves, constructed with the usual disregard of
scientific and economic laws. And it is because we know this particular
stove to be convenient, reliable, and economically efficient beyond ordinary
experience, in the important housekeeping element of kitchen labor, that we
devote to it so much space and pains to describe its advantageous points.

CHIMNEYS.

One of the most serious evils in domestic life is often found in chimneys
that will not properly draw the smoke of a fire or stove. Although chimneys
have been building for a thousand years, the artisans of the present day
seem strangely ignorant of the true method of constructing them so as

always to carry smoke upward instead of downward. It is rarely the case
that a large house is built in which there is not some flue or chimney which
"will not draw." One of the reasons why the stove described as excelling all
others is sometimes cast aside for a poorer one is, that it requires a properly
constructed chimney, and multitudes of women do not know how to secure
it. The writer in early life shed many a bitter tear, drawn forth by smoke
from an ill-constructed kitchen-chimney, and thousands all over the land
can report the same experience.

The following are some of the causes and the remedies for this evil.

The most common cause of poor chimney draughts is too large an
opening for the fireplace, either too wide or too high in front, or having too
large a throat for the smoke. In a lower story, the fireplace should not be
larger than thirty inches wide, twenty-five inches high, and fifteen deep. In
the story above, it should be eighteen inches square and fifteen inches deep.

Another cause is too short a flue, and the remedy is to lengthen it. As a
general rule, the longer the flue the stronger the draught. But in calculating
the length of a flue, reference must be had to side-flues, if any open into it.
Where this is the case, the length of the main flue is to be considered as
extending only from the bottom to the point where the upper flue joins it,
and where the lower will receive air from the upper flue. If a smoky flue
can not be increased in length, either by closing an upper flue or
lengthening the chimney, the fireplace must be contracted so that all the air
near the fire will be heated and thus pressed upward.

If a flue has more than one opening, in some cases it is impossible to
secure a good draught. Sometimes it will work well and sometimes it will
not. The only safe rule is to have a separate flue to each fire.

Another cause of poor draughts is too tight a room, so that the cold air
from without can not enter to press the warm air up the chimney. The
remedy is to admit a small current of air from without.

Another cause is two chimneys in one room, or in rooms opening
together, in which the draught in one is much stronger than in the other. In
this case, the stronger draught will draw away from the weaker. The remedy
is, for each room to have a proper supply of outside air; or, in a single room,
to stop one of the chimneys.

Another cause is the too close vicinity of a hill or buildings higher than
the top of the chimney, and the remedy for this is to raise the chimney.

Another cause is the descent, into unused fireplaces, of smoke from other
chimneys near. The remedy is to close the throat of the unused chimney.

Another cause is a door opening toward the fireplace, on the same side of
the room, so that its draught passes along the wall and makes a current that
draws out the smoke. The remedy is to change the hanging of the door so as
to open another way.

Another cause is strong winds. The remedy is a turn-cap on top of the
chimney.

Another cause is the roughness of the inside of a chimney, or projections
which impede the passage of the smoke. Every chimney should be built of
equal dimensions from bottom to top, with no projections into it, with as
few bends as possible, and with the surface of the inside as smooth as
possible.

Another cause of poor draughts is openings into the chimney of chambers
for stove-pipes. The remedy is to close them, or insert stove-pipes that are

in use.

Another cause is the falling out of brick in some part of the chimney so
that outer air is admitted. The remedy is to close the opening.

The draught of a stove may be affected by most of these causes. It also
demands that the fireplace have a tight fire-board, or that the throat he
carefully filled. For neglecting this, many a good stove has been thrown
aside and a poor one taken in its place.

If all young women had committed to memory these causes of evil and
their remedies, many a badly-built chimney might have been cured, and
many smoke-drawn tears, sighs, ill-tempers, and irritating words avoided.

But there are dangers in this direction which demand special attention.
Where one flue has two stoves or fireplaces, in rooms one above the other,
in certain states of the atmosphere, the lower room, being the warmer, the
colder air and carbonic acid in the room above will pass down into the
lower room through the opening for the stove or the fireplace.

This occurred not long since in a boarding-school, when the gas in a
room above flowed into a lower one, and suffocated several to death. This
room had no mode of ventilation, and several persons slept in it, and were
thus stifled. Professor Brewer states a similar case in the family of a
relative. An anthracite stove was used in the upper room; and on one still,
close night, the gas from this stove descended through the flue and the
opening into a room below, and stifled two persons to insensibility, though,
by proper efforts, their lives were saved. Many such cases have occurred
where rooms have been thus filled with poisonous gases, and servants and
children destroyed, or their constitutions injured, simply because
housekeepers are not properly instructed in this important branch of their
profession.

FURNACES.

There is no improved mechanism in the economy of domestic life requiring
more intelligent management than furnaces. Let us then consider some of
the principles involved.

The earth is heated by radiation from the sun. The air is not warmed by
the passage of the sun's heat through it, but by convection from the earth, in
the same way that it is warmed by the surfaces of stoves. The lower stratum
of air is warmed by the earth and by objects which have been warmed by
radiated heat from the sun. The particles of air thus heated expand, become
lighter, and rise, being replaced by the descent of the cooler and heavier
particles from above, which, on being warmed also rise, and give place to
others. Owing to this process, the air is warmest nearest the earth, and
grows cooler as height increases.

The air has a strong attraction for water, and always holds a certain
quantity as invisible vapor. The warmer the air, the more moisture it
demands, and it will draw it from all objects within reach. The air holds
water according to its temperature. Thus, at fifty-two degrees, Fahrenheit's
thermometer, it holds half the moisture it can sustain; but at thirty-six
degrees, it will hold only one eighty-sixth part. The earth and all plants and
trees are constantly sending out moisture; and when the air has received all
it can hold, without depositing it as dew, it is said to be saturated, and the
point of temperature at which dew begins to form, by condensation, upon
the surface of the earth and its vegetation, is called the dew-point. When air,
at a given temperature, has only forty per cent of the moisture it requires for
saturation, it is said to be dry. In a hot summer day, the air will hold far
more moisture than in cool days. In summer, out-door air rarely holds less
than half its volume of water. In 1838, at Cambridge, Massachusetts, and

New-Haven, Connecticut, at seventy degrees, Fahrenheit, the air held eighty
per cent of moisture.

In New Orleans, the air often retains ninety per cent of the moisture it is
capable of holding; and in cool days at the North, in foggy weather, the air
is sometimes wholly saturated.

When air holds all the moisture it can, without depositing dew, its
moisture is called 100. When it holds three fourths of this, it is said to be at
seventy-five per cent. When it holds only one half, it is at fifty per cent.
When it holds only one fourth, it is at twenty-five per cent, etc.

Sanitary observers teach that the proper amount of moisture in the air
ranges from forty to seventy per cent of saturation.

Now, furnaces, which are of course used only in winter, receive outside
air at a low temperature, holding little moisture; This it sucks up, like a
sponge, from the walls and furniture of a house. If it is taken into the human
lungs, it draws much of its required moisture from the body, often causing
dryness of lips and throat, and painfully affecting the lungs. Prof. Brewer,
of the Scientific School of New-Haven, who has experimented extensively
on this subject, states that, while forty per cent of moisture is needed in air
to make it healthful, most stoves and furnaces do not, by any contrivances,
supply one half of this, or not twenty per cent. He says most furnace-heated
air is dryer than is ever breathed in the hottest deserts of Sahara.

Thus, for want of proper instruction, most American housekeepers not
only poison their families with carbonic acid and starve them for want of
oxygen, but also diminish health and comfort for want of a due supply of
moisture in the air. And often when a remedy is sought, by evaporating
water in the furnace, it is without knowing that the amount evaporated
depends, not on the quantity of water in the vessel, but on the extent of

evaporating surface exposed to the air. A quart of water in a wide shallow
pan will give more moisture than two gallons with a small surface exposed
to heat.

There is also no little wise economy in expense attained by keeping a
proper supply of moisture in the air. For it is found that the body radiates its
heat less in moist than in dry air, so that a person feels as warm at a lower
temperature when the air has a proper supply of moisture, as in a much
higher temperature of dry air. Of course, less fuel is needed to warm a
house when water is evaporated in stove and furnace-heated rooms. It is
said by those who have experimented, that the saving in fuel is twenty per
cent when the air is duly supplied with moisture.

There is a very ingenious instrument, called the hygrodeik, which
indicates the exact amount of moisture in the air. It consists of two
thermometers side by side, one of which has its bulb surrounded by floss-
silk wrapping, which is kept constantly wet by communication with a cup
of water near it. The water around the bulb evaporates just in proportion to
the heat of the air around it. The changing of water to vapor draws heat
from the nearest object, and this being the bulb of the thermometer, the
mercury is cooled and sinks. Then the difference between the two
thermometers shows the amount of moisture in the air by a pointer on a
dial-plate constructed by simple mechanism for this purpose.

There is one very important matter in regard to the use of furnaces, which
is thus stated by Professor Brewer:

"I think it is a well-established fact that carbonic oxide will pass through
iron. It is always formed in great abundance in any anthracite fire, but
especially in anthracite stoves and furnaces. Moreover, furnaces always
leak, more or less; how much they leak depending on the care and skill with
which they are managed. Carbonic oxide is much more poisonous than

carbonic acid. Doubtless some carbonic oxide finds its way into all furnace-
heated houses, especially where anthracite is used; the amount varying with
the kind of furnace and its management. As to how much escapes into a
room, and its specific effect upon the health of its occupants, we have no
accurate data, no analysis to show the quantity, and no observations to show
the relation between the quantity inhaled and the health of those exposed;
all is mere conjecture upon this point; but the inference is very strong that it
has a very injurious effect, producing headaches, weariness, and other
similar symptoms.

"Recent pamphlets lay the blame of all the bad effects of anthracite
furnaces and stoves to the carbonic oxide mingled in the air. I think these
pamphlets have a bad influence. Excessive dryness also has bad effects. So
also the excessive heat in the evenings and coolness in the mornings has a
share in these evils. But how much in addition is owing to carbonic oxide,
we can not know, until we know something of the actual amount of this gas
in rooms, and as yet we know absolutely nothing definite. In fact, it will be
a difficult thing to prove."

There are other difficulties connected with furnaces which should be
considered. It is necessary to perfect health that an equal circulation of the
blood be preserved. The greatest impediment to this is keeping the head
warmer than the feet. This is especially to be avoided in a nation where the
brain is by constant activity drawing the blood from the extremities. And
nowhere is this more important than in schools, churches, colleges, lecture
and recitation-rooms, where the brain is called into active exercise. And yet,
furnace-heated rooms always keep the feet in the coldest air, on cool floors,
while the head is in the warmest air.

Another difficulty is the fact that all bodies tend to radiate their heat to
each other, till an equal temperature exists. Thus, the human body is

constantly radiating its heat to the walls, floors, and cooler bodies around.
At the same time, a thermometer is affected in the same way, radiating its
heat to cooler bodies around, so that it always marks a lower degree of heat
than actually exists in the warm air around it. Owing to these facts, the
injected air of a furnace is always warmer than is good for the lungs, and
much warmer than is ever needed in rooms warmed by radiation from fires
or heated surfaces. The cooler the air we inspire, the more oxygen is
received, the faster the blood circulates, and the greater is the vigor
imparted to brain, nerves, and muscles.

Scientific men have been contriving various modes of meeting these
difficulties, and at the close of this volume some results will be given to aid
a woman in selecting and managing the most healthful and economical
furnace, or in providing some better method of warming a house. Some
account will also be given of the danger involved in gas-stoves, and some
other recent inventions for cooking and heating.

VI.

HOME DECORATION.

Having duly arranged for the physical necessities of a healthful and
comfortable home, we next approach the important subject of beauty in
reference to the decoration of houses. For while the aesthetic element must
be subordinate to the requirements of physical existence, and, as a matter of
expense, should be held of inferior consequence to means of higher moral
growth; it yet holds a place of great significance among the influences
which make home happy and attractive, which give it a constant and
wholesome power over the young, and contributes much to the education of
the entire household in refinement, intellectual development, and moral
sensibility.

Here we are met by those who tell us that of course they want their
houses handsome, and that, when they get money enough, they intend to
have them so, but at present they are too poor, and because they are poor
they dismiss the subject altogether, and live without any regard to it.

We have often seen people who said that they could not afford to make
their houses beautiful, who had spent upon them, outside or in, an amount
of money which did not produce either beauty or comfort, and which, if
judiciously applied, might have made the house quite charming.

For example, a man, in building his house, takes a plan of an architect.
This plan includes, on the outside, a number of what Andrew Fairservice
called "curlywurlies" and "whigmaliries," which make the house neither
prettier nor more comfortable, and which take up a good deal of money. We
would venture to say that we could buy the chromo of Bierstadt's "Sunset in
the Yosemite Valley," and four others like it, for half the sum that we have
sometimes seen laid out on a very ugly, narrow, awkward porch on the
outside of a house. The only use of this porch was to cost money, and to
cause every body who looked at it to exclaim as they went by, "What ever
induced that man to put a thing like that on the outside of his house?"

Then, again, in the inside of houses, we have seen a dwelling looking
very bald and bare, when a sufficient sum of money had been expended on
one article to have made the whole very pretty: and it has come about in this
way.

We will suppose the couple who own the house to be in the condition in
which people generally are after they have built a house—having spent
more than they could afford on the building itself, and yet feeling
themselves under the necessity of getting some furniture. "Now," says the
housewife, "I must at least have a parlor-carpet. We must get that to begin
with, and other things as we go on." She goes to a store to look at carpets.
The clerks are smiling and obliging, and sweetly complacent. The
storekeeper, perhaps, is a neighbor or a friend, and after exhibiting various
patterns, he tells her of a Brussels carpet he is selling wonderfully cheap—
actually a dollar and a quarter less a yard than the usual price of Brussels,
and the reason is that it is an unfashionable pattern, and he has a good deal
of it, and wishes to close it off.

She looks at it and thinks it is not at all the kind of carpet she meant to
buy, but then it is Brussels, and so cheap! And as she hesitates, her friend

tells her that she will find it "cheapest in the end—that one Brussels carpet
will outlast three or four ingrains," etc., etc.

The result of all this is, that she buys the Brussels carpet, which, with all
its reduction in price, is one third dearer than the ingrain would have been,
and not half so pretty. When she comes home, she will find that she has
spent, we will say eighty dollars, for a very homely carpet whose greatest
merit it is an affliction to remember—namely, that it will outlast three
ordinary carpets. And because she has bought this carpet she can not afford
to paper the walls or put up any window-curtains, and can not even begin to
think of buying any pictures.

Now let us see what eighty dollars could have done for that room. We
will suppose, in the first place, she invests in thirteen rolls of wall-paper of
a lovely shade of buff, which will make the room look sunshiny in the day-
time, and light up brilliantly in the evening. Thirteen rolls of good satin
paper, at thirty-seven cents a roll, expends four dollars and eighty-one cents.
A maroon bordering, made in imitation of the choicest French style, which
can not at a distance be told from it, can be bought for six cents a yard. This
will bring the paper to about five dollars and a half; and our friends will
give a day of their time to putting it on. The room already begins to look
furnished.

Then, let us cover the floor with, say, thirty yards of good matting, at
fifty cents a yard. This gives us a carpet for fifteen dollars. We are here
stopped by the prejudice that matting is not good economy, because it wears
out so soon. We humbly submit that it is precisely the thing for a parlor,
which is reserved for the reception-room of friends, and for our own
dressed leisure hours. Matting is not good economy in a dining-room or a
hard-worn sitting-room; but such a parlor as we are describing is precisely
the place where it answers to the very best advantage.

We have in mind one very attractive parlor which has been, both for
summer and winter, the daily sitting-room for the leisure hours of a husband
and wife, and family of children, where a plain straw matting has done
service for seven years. That parlor is in a city, and these friends are in the
habit of receiving visits from people who live upon velvet and Brussels; but
they prefer to spend the money which such carpets would cost on other
modes of embellishment; and this parlor has often been cited to us as a very
attractive room.

And now our friends, having got thus far, are requested to select some
one tint or color which shall be the prevailing one in the furniture of the
room. Shall it be green? Shall it be blue? Shall it be crimson? To carry on
our illustration, we will choose green, and we proceed with it to create
furniture for our room. Let us imagine that on one side of the fireplace there
be, as there is often, a recess about six feet long and three feet deep. Fill this
recess with a rough frame with four stout legs, one foot high, and upon the
top of the frame have an elastic rack of slats. Make a mattress for this, or, if
you wish to avoid that trouble, you can get a nice mattress for the sum of
two dollars, made of cane-shavings or husks. Cover this with a green
English furniture print. The glazed English comes at about twenty-five
cents a yard, the glazed French at seventy-five cents a yard, and a nice
article of yard-wide French twill (very strong) is from seventy-five to eighty
cents a yard.

With any of these cover your lounge. Make two large, square pillows of
the same substance as the mattress, and set up at the back. If you happen to
have one or two feather pillows that you can spare for the purpose, shake
them down into a square shape and cover them with the same print, and you
will then have for pillows for your lounge—one at each end, and two at the
back, and you will find it answers for all the purposes of a sofa.

[Illustration: Fig. 38.]

It will be a very pretty thing, now, to cut out of the same material as your
lounge, sets of lambrequins (or, as they are called, lamberkins,) a land of
pendent curtain-top, as shown in the illustration, to put over the windows,
which are to be embellished with white muslin curtains. The cornices to
your windows can be simply strips of wood covered with paper to match
the bordering of your room, and the lambrequins, made of chintz like the
lounge, can be trimmed with fringe or gimp of the same color. The patterns
of these can be varied according to fancy, but simple designs are usually the
prettiest. A tassel at the lowest point improves the appearance.

The curtains can be made of plain white muslin, or some of the many
styles that come for this purpose. If plain muslin is used, you can ornament
them with hems an inch in width, in which insert a strip of gingham or
chambray of the same color as your chintz. This will wash with the curtains
without losing its color, or should it fade, it can easily be drawn out and
replaced.

The influence of white-muslin curtains in giving an air of grace and
elegance to a room is astonishing. White curtains really create a room out of
nothing. No matter how coarse the muslin, so it be white and hang in
graceful folds, there is a charm in it that supplies the want of multitudes of
other things.

Very pretty curtain-muslin can be bought at thirty-seven cents a yard.
It requires six yards for a window.

Let your men-folk knock up for you, out of rough, unplaned boards,
some ottoman frames, as described in Chapter II; stuff the tops with just the
same material as the lounge, and cover them with the self-same chintz.

[Illustration: Fig. 39.]

Now you have, suppose your selected color to be green, a green lounge in
the corner and two green ottomans; you have white muslin curtains, with
green lambrequins and borders, and your room already looks furnished. If
you have in the house any broken-down arm-chair, reposing in the oblivion
of the garret, draw it out—drive a nail here and there to hold it firm—stuff
and pad, and stitch the padding through with a long upholsterer's needle,
and cover it with the chintz like your other furniture. Presto—you create an
easy-chair.

Thus can broken and disgraced furniture reappear, and, being put into
uniform with the general suit of your room, take a new lease of life.

If you want a centre-table, consider this—that any kind of table, well
concealed beneath the folds of handsome drapery of a color corresponding
to the general hue of the room, will look well. Instead of going to the
cabinet-maker and paying from thirty to forty dollars upon a little, narrow,
cold, marble-topped stand, that gives just room enough to hold a lamp and a
book or two, reflect within yourself what a centre-table is made for. If you
have in your house a good, broad, generous-topped table, take it, cover it
with an ample cloth of green broadcloth. Such a cover, two and a half yards
square, of fine green broadcloth, figured with black and with a pattern-
border of grape-leaves, has been bought for ten dollars. In a room we wot
of, it covers a cheap pine table, such as you may buy for four or five dollars
any day; but you will be astonished to see how handsome an object this
table makes under its green drapery. Probably you could make the cover
more cheaply by getting the cloth and trimming its edge with a handsome
border, selected for the purpose; but either way, it will be an economical
and useful ornament. We set down our centre-table, therefore, as consisting
mainly of a nice broadcloth cover, matching our curtains and lounge.

We are sure that any one with "a heart that is humble" may command
such a centre-table and cloth for fifteen dollars or less, and a family of five
or six may all sit and work, or read, or write around it, and it is capable of
entertaining a generous allowance of books and knick-knacks.

You have now for your parlor the following figures:

Wall-paper and border,……………………………… $5.50
Thirty yards matting,………………………………. 15.00
Centre-table and cloth,…………………………….. 15.00
Muslin for three windows,……………………………. 6.75
Thirty yards green English chintz, at 25 cents,………… 7.50
Six chairs, at $2 each,…………………………….. 12.00

Total,…………………………………………….$61.75 Subtracted from
eighty dollars, which we set down as the price of the cheap, ugly Brussels
carpet, we have our whole room papered, carpeted, curtained, and
furnished, and we have nearly twenty dollars remaining for pictures.

As a little suggestion in regard to the selection, you can got Miss
Oakley's charming little cabinet picture of

"The Little Scrap-Book Maker" for…………………… $7 50
Eastman Johnson's "Barefoot Boy,"…………….. (Prang) 5 00
Newman's "Blue-fringed Gentians,"………………(Prang) 6 00
Bierstadt's "Sunset in the Yo Semite Valley,"……(Prang)12 00

Here are thirty dollars' worth of really admirable pictures of some of our
best American artists, from which you can choose at your leisure. By
sending to any leading picture-dealer, lists of pictures and prices will be
forwarded to you. These chromos, being all varnished, can wait for frames
until you can afford them. Or, what is better, because it is at once cheaper

and a means of educating the ingenuity and the taste, you can make for
yourselves pretty rustic frames in various modes. Take a very thin board, of
the right size and shape, for the foundation or "mat;" saw out the inner oval
or rectangular form to suit the picture. Nail on the edge a rustic frame made
of branches of hard, seasoned wood, and garnish the corners with some
pretty device; such, for instance, as a cluster of acorns; or, in place of the
branches of trees, fasten on with glue small pine cones, with larger ones for
corner ornaments. Or use the mosses of the wood or ocean shells for this
purpose. It may be more convenient to get the mat or inner moulding from a
framer, or have it made by your carpenter, with a groove behind to hold a
glass. Here are also picture-frames of pretty effect, and very simply made.
The one in Fig. 42 is made of either light or dark wood, neat, thin, and not
very wide, with the ends simply broken, off, or cut so as to resoluble a
rough break. The other is white pine, sawn into simple form, well
smoothed, and marked with a delicate black tracery, as suggested in Fig. 43.
This should also be varnished, then it will take a rich, yellow tinge, which
harmonizes admirably with chromos, and lightens up engravings to singular
advantage. Besides the American and the higher range of German and
English chromos, there are very many pretty little French chromos, which
can be had at prices from $1 to $5, including black walnut frames.

[Illustration: Fig. 40]
[Illustration: Fig. 41]
[Illustration: Fig. 42]
[Illustration: Fig. 43]

We have been through this calculation merely to show our readers how
much beautiful effect may be produced by a wise disposition of color and
skill in arrangement. If any of our friends should ever carry it out, they will
find that the buff paper, with its dark, narrow border; the green chintz
repeated in the lounge, the ottomans, and lambrequins; the flowing, white

curtains; the broad, generous centre-table, draped with its ample green
cloth, will, when arranged together, produce an effect of grace and beauty
far beyond what any one piece or even half a dozen pieces of expensive
cabinet furniture could. The great, simple principle of beauty illustrated in
this room is harmony of color.

You can, in the same way, make a red room by using Turkey red for your
draperies; or a blue room by using blue chintz. Let your chintz be of a small
pattern, and one that is decided in color.

We have given the plan of a room with matting on the floor because that
is absolutely the cheapest cover. The price of thirty yards plain, good
ingrain carpet, at $1.50 per yard, would be forty-five dollars; the difference
between forty-five and fifteen dollars would furnish a room with pictures
such as we have instanced. However, the same programme can be even
better carried out with a green ingrain carpet as the foundation of the color
of the room.

Our friends, who lived seven years upon matting, contrived to give their
parlor in winter an effect of warmth and color by laying down, in front of
the fire, a large square of carpeting, say three breadths, four yards long.
This covered the gathering-place around the fire where the winter circle
generally sits, and gave an appearance of warmth to the room.

If we add this piece of carpeting to the estimates for our room, we still
leave a margin for a picture, and make the programme equally adapted to
summer and winter.

Besides the chromos, which, when well selected and of the best class,
give the charm of color which belongs to expensive paintings, there are
engravings which finely reproduce much of the real spirit and beauty of the
celebrated pictures of the world. And even this does not exhaust the

resources of economical art; for there are few of the renowned statues,
whether of antiquity or of modern times, that have not been accurately
copied in plaster casts; and a few statuettes, costing perhaps five or six
dollars each, will give a really elegant finish to your rooms-providing
always that they are selected with discrimination and taste.

The educating influence of these works of art can hardly be over-
estimated. Surrounded by such suggestions of the beautiful, and such
reminders of history and art, children are constantly trained to correctness
of tote and refinement of thought, and stimulated—sometimes to efforts at
artistic imitation, always to the eager and intelligent inquiry about the
scenes, the places, the incidents represented. Just here, perhaps, we are met
by some who grant all that we say on the subject of decoration by works of
art, and who yet impatiently exclaim, "But I have no money to spare for any
thing of this sort. I am condemned to an absolute bareness, and beauty in
my case is not to be thought of."

Are you sure, my friend? If you live in the country, or can get into the
country, and have your eyes opened and your wits about you, your house
need not be condemned to an absolute bareness. Not so long as the woods
are full of beautiful ferns and mosses, while every swamp shakes and nods
with tremulous grasses, need you feel yourself an utterly disinherited child
of nature, and deprived of its artistic use.

For example: Take an old tin pan condemned to the retired list by reason
of holes in the bottom, get twenty-five cents' worth of green paint for this
and other purposes, and paint it. The holes in the bottom are a
recommendation for its new service. If there are no holes, you must drill
two or three, as drainage is essential. Now put a layer one inch deep of
broken charcoal and potsherds over the bottom, and then soil, in the
following proportions:

Two fourths wood-soil, such as you find in forests, under trees.

One fourth clean sand.

One fourth meadow-soil, taken from under fresh turf. Mix with this some
charcoal dust.

In this soil plant all sorts of ferns, together with some few swamp-
grasses; and around the edge put a border of money-plant or periwinkle to
hang over. This will need to be watered once or twice a week, and it will
grow and thrive all summer long in a corner of your room. Should you
prefer, you can suspend it by wires and make a hanging-basket.—Ferns and
wood-grasses need not have sunshine—they grow well in shadowy places.

On this same principle you can convert a salt-box or an old drum of figs
into a hanging-basket. Tack bark and pine-cones and moss upon the outside
of it, drill holes and pass wires through it, and you have a woodland
hanging-basket, which will hang and grow in any corner of your house.

We have been into rooms which, by the simple disposition of articles of
this kind, have been made to have an air so poetical and attractive that they
seemed more like a nymph's cave than any thing in the real world.

[Illustration: Fig. 44.]

Another mode of disposing of ferns is this: Take a flat piece of board
sawed out something like a shield, with a hole at the top for hanging it up.
Upon the board nail a wire pocket made of an ox-muzzle flattened on one
side; or make something of the kind with stiff wire. Line this with a sheet of
close moss, which appears green behind the wire net-work. Then you fill it
with loose, spongy moss, such as you find in swamps, and plant therein
great plumes of fern and various swamp-grasses; they will continue to grow

there, and hang gracefully over. When watering, set a pail under for it to
drip into. It needs only to keep this moss always damp, and to sprinkle these
ferns occasionally with a whisk-broom, to have a most lovely ornament for
your room or hall.

The use of ivy in decorating a room is beginning to be generally
acknowledged. It needs to be planted in the kind of soil we have described,
in a well-drained pot or box, and to have its leaves thoroughly washed once
or twice a year in strong suds made with soft-soap, to free it from dust and
scale-bug; and an ivy will live and thrive and wind about in a room, year in
and year out, will grow around pictures, and do almost any thing to oblige
you that you can suggest to it. For instance, in a March number of Hearth
and Home, [Footnote: A beautifully illustrated agricultural and family
weekly paper, edited by Donald G. Mitchell(Ik Marvel) and Mrs. H. B.
Stowe,] there is a picture of the most delightful library-window imaginable,
whose chief charm consists in the running vines that start from a
longitudinal box at the bottom of the window, and thence clamber up and
about the casing and across the rustic frame-work erected for its
convenience. On the opposite page we present another plain kind of
window, ornamented with a variety of these rural economical adornings.

[Illustration: Fig. 45.] In the centre is a Ward's case. On one side is a pot
of Fuchsia. On the other side is a Calla Lily. In the hanging-baskets and on
the brackets are the ferns and flowers that flourish in the deep woods, and
around the window is the ivy, running from two boxes; and, in case the
window has some sun, a Nasturtium may spread its bright blossoms among
the leaves. Then, in the winter, when there is less sun, the Striped Spider-
wort, the Smilax and the Saxifraga. Samantosa (or Wandering Jew) may be
substituted. Pretty brackets can be made of common pine, ornamented with
odd-growing twigs or mosses or roots, scraped and varnished, or in their
native state.

A beautiful ornament for a room with pictures is German ivy. Slips of
this will start without roots in bottles of water. Slide the bottle behind the
picture, and the ivy will seem to come from fairyland, and hang its verdure
in all manner of pretty curves around the picture. It may then be trained to
travel toward other ivy, and thus aid in forming green cornice along the
ceiling. We have seen some rooms that had an ivy cornice around the
whole, giving the air of a leafy bower.

There are some other odd devices to ornament a room. For example, a
sponge, kept wet by daily immersion, can be filled with flax-seed and
suspended by a cord, when it will ere long be covered with verdure and
afterward with flowers.

A sweet potato, laid in a bowl of water on a bracket, or still better,
suspended by a knitting-needle, run through or laid across the bowl half in
the water, will, in due time, make a beautiful verdant ornament. A large
carrot, with the smallest half cut off, scooped out to hold water and then
suspended with cords, will send out graceful shoots in rich profusion.

Half a cocoa-nut shell, suspended, will hold earth or water for plants and
make a pretty hanging-garden.

It may be a very proper thing to direct the ingenuity and activity of
children into the making of hanging-baskets and vases of rustic work. The
best foundations are the cheap wooden bowls, which are quite easy to get,
and the walks of children in the woods can be made interesting by their
bringing home material for this rustic work. Different colored twigs and
sprays of trees, such as the bright scarlet of the dog-wood, the yellow of the
willow, the black of the birch, and the silvery gray of the poplar, may be
combined in fanciful net-work. For this sort of work, no other investment is
needed than a hammer and an assortment of different-sized tacks, and
beautiful results will be produced. Fig. 46 is a stand for flowers, made of

roots, scraped and varnished. But the greatest and cheapest and most
delightful fountain of beauty is a "Ward case."

[Illustration: Fig 46.]

Now, immediately all our economical friends give up in despair. Ward's
cases sell all the way along from eighteen to fifty dollars, and are, like
every thing else in this lower world, regarded as the sole perquisites of the
rich.

Let us not be too sure. Plate-glass, and hot-house plants, and rare
patterns, are the especial inheritance of the rich; but any family may
command all the requisites of a Ward case for a very small sum. Such a case
is a small glass closet over a well-drained box of soil. You make a Ward
case on a small scale when you turn a tumbler over a plant. The glass keeps
the temperature moist and equable, and preserves the plants from dust, and
the soil being well drained, they live and thrive accordingly. The requisites
of these are the glass top and the bed of well-drained soil.

Suppose you have a common cheap table, four feet long and two wide.
Take off the top boards of your table, and with them board the bottom
across tight and firm; then line it with zinc, and you will have a sort of box
or sink on legs. Now make a top of common window-glass such as you
would get for a cucumber-frame; let it be two and a half feet high, with a
ridge-pole like a house, and a slanting roof of glass resting on this ridge-
pole; on one end let there be a door two feet square.

[Illustration: Fig. 47.]

We have seen a Ward case made in this way, in which the capabilities for
producing ornamental effect were greatly beyond many of the most
elaborate ones of the shops. It was large, and roomy, and cheap. Common

window-sash and glass are not dear, and any man with moderate ingenuity
could fashion such a glass closet for his wife; or a woman, not having such
a husband, can do it herself.

The sink or box part must have in the middle of it a hole of good size for
drainage. In preparing for the reception of plants, first turn a plant-saucer
over this hole, which may otherwise become stopped. Then, as directed for
the other basket, proceed with a layer of broken charcoal and pot-sherds for
drainage, two inches deep, and prepare the soil as directed above, and add
to it some pounded charcoal, or the scrapings of the charcoal-bin. In short,
more or less charcoal and charcoal-dust is always in order in the treatment
of these moist subjects, as it keeps them from fermenting and growing sour.

Now for filling the case.

Our own native forest-ferns have a period in the winter months when
they cease to grow. They are very particular in asserting their right to this
yearly nap, and will not, on any consideration, grow for you out of their
appointed season.

Nevertheless, we shall tell you what we have tried ourselves, because
greenhouse ferns are expensive, and often great cheats when you have
bought them, and die on your hands in the most reckless and shameless
manner. If you make a Ward case in the spring, your ferns will grow
beautifully in it all summer; and in the autumn, though they stop growing,
and cease to throw out leaves, yet the old leaves will remain fresh and green
till the time for starting the new ones in the spring.

But, supposing you wish to start your case in the fall, out of such things
as you can find in the forest; by searching carefully the rocks and clefts and
recesses of the forest, you can find a quantity of beautiful ferns whose
leaves the frost has not yet assailed. Gather them carefully, remembering

that the time of the plant's sleep has come, and that you must make the most
of the leaves it now has, as you will not have a leaf more from it till its
waking-up time in February or March. But we have succeeded, and you will
succeed, in making a very charming and picturesque collection. You can
make in your Ward case lovely little grottoes with any bits of shells, and
minerals, and rocks you may have; you can lay down, here and there,
fragments of broken looking-glass for the floor of your grottoes, and the
effect of them will be magical. A square of looking-glass introduced into the
back side of your case will produce charming effects.

The trailing arbutus or May-flower, if cut up carefully in sods, and put
into this Ward case, will come into bloom there a month sooner than it
otherwise would, and gladden your eyes and heart.

In the fall, if you can find the tufts of eye-bright or houstonia cerulia, and
mingle them in with your mosses, you will find them blooming before
winter is well over.

But among the most beautiful things for such a case is the partridge-
berry, with its red plums. The berries swell and increase in the moist
atmosphere, and become intense in color, forming an admirable ornament.

Then the ground pine, the princess pine, and various nameless pretty
things of the woods, all flourish in these little conservatories. In getting
your sod of trailing arbutus, remember that this plant forms its buds in the
fall. You must, therefore, examine your sod carefully, and see if the buds are
there; otherwise you will find no blossoms in the spring.

There are one or two species of violets, also, that form their buds in the
fall, and these too, will blossom early for you.

We have never tried the wild anemones, the crowfoot, etc.; but as they all
do well in moist, shady places, we recommend hopefully the experiment of
putting some of them in.

A Ward case has this recommendation over common house-plants, that it
takes so little time and care. If well made in the outset, and thoroughly
drenched with water when the plants are first put in, it will after that need
only to be watered about once a month, and to be ventilated by occasionally
leaving open the door for a half-hour or hour when the moisture obscures
the glass and seems in excess.

To women embarrassed with the care of little children, yet longing for the
refreshment of something growing and beautiful, this indoor garden will be
an untold treasure. The glass defends the plant from the inexpedient
intermeddling of little fingers; while the little eyes, just on a level with the
panes of glass, can look through and learn to enjoy the beautiful, silent
miracles of nature.

For an invalid's chamber, such a case would be an indescribable comfort.
It is, in fact, a fragment of the green woods brought in and silently growing;
it will refresh many a weary hour to watch it.

VII.
THE CARE OF HEALTH.

There is no point where a woman is more liable to suffer from a want of
knowledge and experience than in reference to the health of a family
committed to her care. Many a young lady who never had any charge of the
sick; who never took any care of an infant; who never obtained information

on these subjects from books, or from the experience of others; in short,
with little or no preparation, has found herself the principal attendant in
dangerous sickness, the chief nurse of a feeble infant, and the responsible
guardian of the health of a whole family.

The care, the fear, the perplexity of a woman suddenly called to these
unwonted duties, none can realize till they themselves feel it, or till they see
some young and anxious novice first attempting to meet such
responsibilities. To a woman of age and experience these duties often
involve a measure of trial and difficulty at times deemed almost
insupportable; how hard, then, must they press on the heart of the young
and inexperienced!

There is no really efficacious mode of preparing a woman to take a
rational care of the health of a family, except by communicating that
knowledge in regard to the construction of the body and the laws of health
which is the basis of the medical profession. Not that a woman should
undertake the minute and extensive investigation requisite for a physician;
but she should gain a general knowledge of first principles, as a guide to her
judgment in emergencies when she can rely on no other aid.

With this end in view, in the preceding chapters some portions of the
organs and functions of the human body have been presented, and others
will now follow in connection with the practical duties which result from
them.

On the general subject of health, one recent discovery of science may
here be introduced as having an important relation to every organ and
function of the body, and as being one to which frequent reference will be
made; and that is, the nature and operation of cell-life.

By the aid of the microscope, we can examine the minute construction of
plants and animals, in which we discover contrivances and operations, if not
so sublime, yet more wonderful and interesting, than the vast systems of
worlds revealed by the telescope.

By this instrument it is now seen that the first formation, as well as future
changes and actions, of all plants and animals are accomplished by means
of small cells or bags containing various kinds of liquids. These cells are so
minute that, of the smallest, some hundreds would not cover the dot of a
printed i on this page. They are of diverse shapes and contents, and perform
various different operations.

[Illustration: Fig 48.]

The first formation of every animal is accomplished by the agency of
cells, and may be illustrated by the egg of any bird or fowl. The exterior
consists of a hard shell for protection, and this is lined with a tough skin, to
which is fastened the yelk, (which means the yellow,) by fibrous strings, as
seen at a, a, in the diagram. In the yelk floats the germ-cell, b, which is the
point where the formation of the future animal commences. The yelk, being
lighter than the white, rises upward, and the germ being still lighter, rises in
the yelk. This is to bring both nearer to the vitalizing warmth of the
brooding mother.

New cells are gradually formed from the nourishing yelk around the
germ, each being at first roundish in shape, and having a spot near the
centre, called the nucleus. The reason why cells increase must remain a
mystery, until we can penetrate the secrets of vital force—probably forever.
But the mode in which they multiply is as follows: The first change noticed
in a cell, when warmed into vital activity, is the appearance of a second
nucleus within it, while the cell gradually becomes oval in form, and then is
drawn inward at the middle, like an hour-glass, till the two sides meet. The

two portions then divide, and two cells appear, each containing its own
germinal nucleus. These both divide again in the same manner, proceeding
in the ratio of 2, 4, 8, 16, and so on, until most of the yelk becomes a mass
of cells.

The central point of this mass, where the animal itself commences to
appear, shows, first, a round-shaped figure, which soon assumes form like a
pear, and then like a violin. Gradually the busy little cells arrange
themselves to build up heart, lungs, brain, stomach, and limbs, for which
the yelk and white furnish nutriment. There is a small bag of air fastened to
one end inside of the shell; and when the animal is complete, this air is
taken into its lungs, life begins, and out walks little chick, all its powers
prepared, and ready to run, eat, and enjoy existence. Then, as soon as the
animal uses its brain to think and feel, and its muscles to move, the cells
which have been made up into these parts begin to decay, while new cells
are formed from the blood to take their place. Time with life commences
the constant process of decay and renewal all over the body.

[Illustration: Fig. 49.]

The liquid portion of the blood consists of material formed from food,
air, and water. From this material the cells of the blood are formed: first, the
white cells, which are incomplete in formation; and then the red cells,
which are completed by the addition of the oxygen received from air in the
lungs. Fig. 49 represents part of a magnified blood-vessel, a, a, in which the
round cells are the white, and the oblong the red cells, floating in the blood.
Surrounding the blood- vessels are the cells forming the adjacent
membrane, bb, each having a nucleus in its centre.

Cells have different powers of selecting and secreting diverse materials
from the blood. Thus, some secrete bile to carry to the liver, others secrete
saliva for the mouth, others take up the tears, and still others take material

for the brain, muscles, and all other organs. Cells also have a converting
power, of taking one kind of matter from the blood, and changing it to
another kind. They are minute chemical laboratories all over the body,
changing materials of one kind to another form in which they can be made
useful.

Both animal and vegetable substances are formed of cells. But the
vegetable cells take up and use unorganized or simple, natural matter;
whereas the animal cell only takes substances already organized into
vegetable or animal life, and then changes one compound into another of
different proportions and nature.

These curious facts in regard to cell-life have important relations to the
general subject of the care of health, and also to the cure of disease, as will
be noticed in following chapters.

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.

There is another portion of the body, which is so intimately connected with
every other that it is placed in this chapter as also having reference to every
department in the general subject of the care of health.

The body has no power to move itself, but is a collection of instruments
to be used by the mind in securing various kinds of knowledge and
enjoyment. The organs through which the mind thus operates are the brain
and nerves. The drawing (Fig. 50) represents them.

[Illustration: Fig. 50.]

The brain lies in the skull, and is divided into the large or upper brain,
marked 1, and the small or lower brain, marked 2. From the brain runs the
spinal marrow through the spine or backbone. From each side of the spine

the large nerves run out into innumerable smaller branches to every portion
of the body. The drawing shows only some of the larger branches. Those
marked 3 run to the neck and organs of the chest; those marked 4 go to the
arms; those below the arms, marked 3, go to the trunk; and those marked 5
go to the legs.

The brain and nerves consist of two kinds of nervous matter—the gray,
which is supposed to be the portion that originates and controls a nervous
fluid which imparts power of action; and the white, which seems to conduct
this fluid to every part of the body.

The brain and nervous system are divided into distinct portions, each
having different offices to perform, and each acting independently of the
others; as, for example, one portion is employed by the mind in thinking,
and in feeling pleasurable or painful mental emotions; another in moving
the muscles; while the nerves that run to the nose, ears, eyes, tongue, hands,
and surface generally, are employed in seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting,
and feeling all physical sensations.

The back portion of the spinal marrow and the nerves that run from it are
employed in sensation, or the sense of feeling. These nerves extend over the
whole body, but are largely developed in the network of nerves in the skin.
The front portion of the spinal marrow and its branches are employed in
moving those muscles in all parts of the body which are controlled by the
will or choice of the mind. These are called the nerves of motion.

The nerves of sensation and nerves of motion, although they start from
different portions of the spine, are united in the same sheath or cover, till
they terminate in the muscles. Thus, every muscle is moved by nerves of
motion; while alongside of this nerve, in the same sheath, is a nerve of
sensation. All the nerves of motion and sensation are connected with those
portions of the brain used when we think, feel, and choose. By this

arrangement the mind knows what is wanted in all parts of the body by
means of the nerves of sensation, and then it acts by means of the nerves of
motion.

For example, when we feel the cold air on the skin, the nerves of
sensation report to the brain, and thus to the mind, that the body is growing
cold. The mind thus knows that more clothing is needed, and wills to have
the eyes look for it, and the hands and feet move to get it. This is done by
the nerves of sight and of motion.

Next are the nerves of involuntary motion, which move all those parts of
the head, face, and body that are used in breathing, and in other operations
connected with it. By these we continue to breathe when asleep, and
whether we will to do so or not. There are also some of the nerves of
voluntary motion that are mixed with these, which enable the mind to stop
respiration, or to regulate it to a certain extent. But the mind has no power
to stop it for any great length of time.

There is another large and important system of nerves called the
sympathetic or ganglionic system. It consists of small masses of gray and
white nervous matter, that seem to be small brains with nerves running from
them. These are called ganglia, and are arranged on each side of the spine,
while small nerves from the spinal marrow run into them, thus uniting the
sympathetic system with the nerves of the spine. These ganglia are also
distributed around in various parts of the interior of the body, especially in
the intestines, and all the different ganglia are connected with each other by
nerves, thus making one system. It is the ganglionic system that carries on
the circulation of the blood, the action of the capillaries, lymphatics,
arteries, and veins, together with the work of secretion, absorption, and
most of the internal working of the body, which goes forward without any
knowledge or control of the mind.

Every portion of the body has nerves of sensation coming from the spine,
and also branches of the sympathetic or ganglionic system. The object of
this is to form a sympathetic communication between the several parts of
the body, and also to enable the mind to receive, through the brain, some
general knowledge of the state of the whole system. It is owing to this that,
when one portion of the body is affected, other portions sympathize. For
example, if one part of the body is diseased, the stomach may so
sympathize as to lose all appetite until the disease is removed.

All the operations of the nervous system are performed by the influence
of the nervous fluid, which is generated in the gray portions of the brain and
ganglia. Whenever a nerve is cut off from its connection with these nervous
centres, its power is gone, and the part to which it ministered becomes
lifeless and incapable of motion.

The brain and nerves can be overworked, and can also suffer for want of
exercise, just as the muscles do. It is necessary for the perfect health of the
brain and nerves that the several portions he exercised sufficiently, and that
no part be exhausted by over-action. For example, the nerves of sensation
may be very much exercised, and the nerves of motion have but little
exercise. In this ease, one will be weakened by excess of work, and the
other by the want of it.

It is found by experience that the proper exercise of the nerves of motion
tends to reduce any extreme susceptibility of the nerves of sensation. On the
contrary, the neglect of such exercise tends to produce an excessive
sensibility in the nerves of sensation.

Whenever that part of the brain which is employed in thinking, feeling,
and willing, is greatly exercised by hard study, or by excessive care or
emotion, the blood tends to the brain to supply it with increased
nourishment, just as it flows to the muscles when they are exercised. Over-

exercise of this portion of the brain causes engorgement of the blood-
vessels. This is sometimes indicated by pain, or by a sense of fullness in the
head; but oftener the result is a debilitating drain on the nervous system,
which depends for its supply on the healthful state of the brain.

The brain has, as it were, a fountain of supply for the nervous fluid,
which flows to all the nerves, and stimulates them to action. Some brains
have a larger, and some a smaller fountain; so that a degree of mental
activity that would entirely exhaust one, would make only a small and
healthful drain upon another.

The excessive use of certain portions of the brain tends to withdraw the
nervous energy from other portions; so that when one part is debilitated by
excess, another fails by neglect. For example, a person may so exhaust the
brain power in the excessive use of the nerves of motion by hard work, as to
leave little for any other faculty. On the other hand, the nerves of feeling
and thinking may be so used as to withdraw the nervous fluid from the
nerves of motion, and thus debilitate the muscles.

Some animal propensities may be indulged to such excess as to produce a
constant tendency of the blood to a certain portion of the brain, and to the
organs connected with it, and thus cause a constant and excessive
excitement, which finally becomes a disease. Sometimes a paralysis of this
portion of the brain results from such an entire exhaustion of the nervous
fountain and of the overworked nerves.

Thus, also, the thinking portion of the brain may be so overworked as to
drain the nervous fluid from other portions, which become debilitated by
the loss. And in this way, also, the overworked portion may be diseased or
paralyzed by the excess.

The necessity for the equal development of all portions of the brain by an
appropriate exercise of all the faculties of mind and body, and the influence
of this upon happiness, is the most important portion of this subject, and
will be more directly exhibited in another chapter.

VIII.

DOMESTIC EXERCISE.

In a work which aims to influence women to train the young to honor
domestic labor and to seek healthful exercise in home pursuits, there is
special reason for explaining the construction of the muscles and their
connection with the nerves, these being the chief organs of motion.

The muscles, as seen by the naked eye, consist of very fine fibres or
strings, bound up in smooth, silky casings of thin membrane. But each of
these visible fibres or strings the microscope shows to be made up of still
finer strings, numbering from five to eight hundred in each fibre. And each
of these microscopic fibres is a series or chain of elastic cells, which are so
minute that one hundred thousand would scarcely cover a capital O on this
page.

[Illustration: Fig. 51.]
[Illustration: Fig. 52.]

The peculiar property of the cells which compose the muscles is their
elasticity, no other cells of the body having this property. At Fig. 51 is a
diagram representing a microscopic muscular fibre, in which the cells are
relaxed, as in the natural state of rest. But when the muscle contracts, each
of its numberless cells in all its small fibres becomes widened, making each

fibre of the muscle shorter and thicker, as at Fig. 52. This explains the cause
of the swelling out of muscles when they act.

Every motion in every part of the body has a special muscle to produce it,
and many have other muscles to restore the part moved to its natural state.
The muscles that move or bend any part are called flexors, and those that
restore the natural position are called extensors.

[Illustration: Fig. 53]

Fig. 53 represents the muscles of the arm after the skin and flesh are
removed. They are all in smooth silky cases, laid over each other, and
separated both by the smooth membranes that encase them and by layers of
fat, so as to move easily without interfering with each other. They are
fastened to the bones by strong tendons and cartilages; and around the wrist,
in the drawing, is shown a band of cartilage to confine them in place. The
muscle marked 8 is the extensor that straightens the fingers after they have
been closed by a flexor the other side of the arm. In like manner, each
motion of the arm and fingers has one muscle to produce it and another to
restore to the natural position.

The muscles are dependent on the brain and nerves for power to move. It
has been shown that the gray matter of the brain and spinal marrow
furnishes the stimulating power that moves the muscles, and causes
sensations of touch on the skin, and the other sensations of the several
senses. The white part of the brain and spinal marrow consists solely of
conducting tubes to transmit this influence. Each of the minute fibrils of the
muscles has a small conducting nerve connecting it with the brain or spinal
marrow, and in this respect each muscular fibril is separate from every
other.

When, therefore, the mind wills to move a flexor muscle of the arm, the
gray matter sends out the stimulus through the nerves to the cells of each
individual fibre of that muscle, and they contract. When this is done, the
nerve of sensation reports it to the brain and mind. If the mind desires to
return the arm to its former position, then follows the willing, and
consequent stimulus sent through the nerves to the corresponding muscle;
its cells contract, and the limb is restored.

When the motion is a compound one, involving the action of several
muscles at the same time, a multitude of impressions are sent back and forth
to and from the brain through the nerves. But the person acting thus is
unconscious of all this delicate and wonderful mechanism. He wills the
movement, and instantly the requisite nervous power is sent to the required
cells and fibres, and they perform the motions required. Many of the
muscles are moved by the sympathetic system, over which the mind has but
little control.

Among the muscles and nerves so intimately connected, run the minute
capillaries of the blood, which furnish nourishment to all.

[Illustration: Fig. 54]

Fig. 54 represents an artery a a, which brings pure blood to a muscle
from the heart. After meandering through the capillaries at c, to distribute
oxygen and food from the stomach, the blood enters the vein, b, loaded with
carbonic acid and water taken up in the capillaries, to be carried to the lungs
or skin, and thrown out into the air.

The manner in which the exercise of the muscles quickens the circulation
of the blood will now be explained. The veins abound in every part of every
muscle, and the large veins have valves which prevent the blood from
flowing backward. If the wrist is grasped tightly, the veins of the hand are

immediately swollen. This is owing to the fact that the blood is prevented
from flowing toward the heart by this pressure, and by the vein-valves from
returning into the arteries; while the arteries themselves, being placed
deeper down, are not so compressed, and continue to send the blood into the
hand, and thus it accumulates. As soon as this pressure is removed, the
blood springs onward from the restraint with accelerated motion. This same
process takes place when any of the muscles are exercised. The contraction
of any muscle presses some of the veins, so that the blood can not flow the
natural way, while the valves in the veins prevent its flowing backward.
Meantime the arteries continue to press the blood along until the veins
become swollen. Then, as soon as the muscle ceases its contraction, the
blood flows faster from the previous accumulation.

If, then, we use a number of muscles, and use them strongly and quickly,
there are so many veins affected in this way as to quicken the whole
circulation. The heart receives blood faster, and sends it to the lungs faster.
Then the lungs work quicker, to furnish the oxygen required by the greater
amount of blood. The blood returns with greater speed to the heart, and the
heart sends it out with quicker action through the arteries to the capillaries.
In the capillaries, too, the decayed matter is carried off faster, and then the
stomach calls for more food to furnish new and pure blood. Thus it is that
exercise gives new life and nourishment to every part of the body.

It is the universal law of the human frame that exercise is indispensable
to the health of the several parts. Thus, if a blood-vessel be tied up, so as
not to be used, it shrinks, and becomes a useless string; if a muscle be
condemned to inaction, it shrinks in size and diminishes in power; and thus
it is also with the bones. Inactivity produces softness, debility, and unfitness
for the functions they are designed to perform.

Now, the nerves, like all other parts of the body, gain and lose strength
according as they are exercised. If they have too much or too little exercise,
they lose strength; if they are exercised to a proper degree, they gain
strength. When the mind is continuously excited, by business, study, or the
imagination, the nerves of emotion and sensation are kept in constant
action, while the nerves of motion are unemployed. If this is continued for a
long time, the nerves of sensation lose their strength from over-action, and
the nerves of motion lose their power from inactivity. In consequence, there
is a morbid excitability of the nervous, and a debility of the muscular
system, which make all exertion irksome and wearisome.

The only mode of preserving the health of these systems is to keep up in
them an equilibrium of action. For this purpose, occupations must be sought
which exercise the muscles and interest the mind; and thus the equal action
of both kinds of nerves is secured. This shows why exercise is so much
more healthful and invigorating when the mind is interested, than when it is
not. As an illustration, let a person go shopping with a friend, and have
nothing to do but look on. How soon do the continuous walking and
standing weary! But, suppose one, thus wearied, hears of the arrival of a
very dear friend: she can instantly walk off a mile or two to meet her,
without the least feeling of fatigue. By this is shown the importance of
furnishing, for young persons, exercise in which they will take an interest.
Long and formal walks, merely for exercise, though they do some good, in
securing fresh air, and some exercise of the muscles, would be of triple
benefit if changed to amusing sports, or to the cultivation of fruits and
flowers, in which it is impossible to engage without acquiring a great
interest.

It shows, also, why it is far better to trust to useful domestic exercise at
home than to send a young person out to walk for the mere purpose of
exercise. Young girls can seldom be made to realize the value of health, and

the need of exercise to secure it, so as to feel much interest in walking
abroad, when they have no other object. But, if they are brought up to
minister to the comfort and enjoyment of themselves and others, by
performing domestic duties, they will constantly be interested and cheered
in their exercise by the feeling of usefulness and the consciousness of
having performed their duty.

There are few young persons, it is hoped, who are brought up with such
miserable habits of selfishness and indolence that they can not be made to
feel happier by the consciousness of being usefully employed. And those
who have never been accustomed to think or care for any one but
themselves, and who seem to feel little pleasure in making themselves
useful, by wise and proper influences can often be gradually awakened to
the new pleasure of benevolent exertion to promote the comfort and
enjoyment of others. And the more this sacred and elevating kind of
enjoyment is tasted, the greater is the relish induced. Other enjoyments
often cloy; but the heavenly pleasure secured by virtuous industry and
benevolence, while it satisfies at the time, awakens fresh desires for the
continuance of so ennobling a good.

IX.

HEALTHFUL FOOD.

The person who decides what shall be the food and drink of a family, and
the modes of its preparation, is the one who decides, to a greater or less
extent, what shall be the health of that family. It is the opinion of most
medical men, that intemperance in eating is one of the most fruitful of all
causes of disease and death. If this be so, the woman who wisely adapts the
food and cooking of her family to the laws of health removes one of the
greatest risks which threatens the lives of those under her care. But,
unfortunately, there is no other duty that has been involved in more doubt
and perplexity. Were one to believe all that is said and written on this
subject, the conclusion probably would be, that there is not one solitary
article of food on God's earth which it is healthful to eat. Happily, however,
there are general principles on this subject which, if understood and applied,
will prove a safe guide to any woman of common sense; and it is the object
of the following chapter to set forth these principles.

All material things on earth, whether solid, liquid, or gaseous, can be
resolved into sixty-two simple substances, only fourteen of which are in the
human body; and these, in certain proportions, in all mankind.

Thus, in a man weighing 154 lbs. are found, 111 lbs. oxygen gas, and 14
lbs. hydrogen gas, which, united, form water; 21 lbs. carbon; 3 lbs. 8 oz.

nitrogen gas; 1 lb. 12 oz. 190 grs. phosphorus; 2 lbs. calcium, the chief
ingredient of bones; 2 oz. fluorine; 2 oz. 219 grs. sulphur; 2 oz 47 grs.
chlorine; 2 oz. 116 grs. sodium; 100 grs. iron; 290 grs. potassium; 12 grs.
magnesium; and 2 grs. silicon.

These simple substances are constantly passing out of the body through
the lungs, skin, and other excreting organs.

It is found that certain of these simple elements are used for one part of
the body, and others for other parts, and this in certain regular proportions.
Thus, carbon is the chief element of fat, and also supplies the fuel that
combines with oxygen in the capillaries to produce animal heat. The
nitrogen which we gain from our food and the air is the chief element of
muscle; phosphorus is the chief element of brain and nerves; and calcium or
lime is the hard portion of the bones. Iron is an important element of blood,
and silicon supplies the hardest parts of the teeth, nails, and hair.

Water, which is composed of the two gases, oxygen and hydrogen, is the
largest portion of the body, forming its fluids; there is four times as much of
carbon as there is of nitrogen in the body; while there is only two per cent
as much phosphorus as carbon. A man weighing one hundred and fifty-four
pounds, who leads an active life, takes into his stomach daily from two to
three pounds of solid food, and from five to six pounds of liquid. At the
same time he takes into his lungs, daily, four or five thousand gallons of air.
This amounts to three thousand pounds of nutriment received through
stomach and lungs, and then expelled from the body, in one year; or about
twenty times the man's own weight.

The change goes on in every minute point of the body, though in some
parts much faster than in others; as set forth in the piquant and sprightly
language of Dr. O. W. Holmes [Footnote: Atlantic Almanac, 1869, p. 40.],

who, giving a vivid picture of the constant decay and renewal of the body,
says:

"Every organized being always lives immersed in a strong solution of its
own elements."

"Sometimes, as in the case of the air-plant, the solution contains all its
elements; but in higher plants, and in animals generally, some of the
principal ones only. Take our own bodies, and we find the atmosphere
contains the oxygen and the nitrogen, of which we are so largely made up,
as its chief constituents; the hydrogen, also, in its watery vapor; the carbon,
in its carbonic acid. What our air-bath does not furnish us, we must take in
the form of nourishment, supplied through the digestive organs. But the first
food we take, after we have set up for ourselves, is air, and the last food we
take is air also. We are all chameleons in our diet, as we are all salamanders
in our habitats, inasmuch as we live always in the fire of our own
smouldering combustion; a gentle but constant flame, fanned every day by
the same forty hogsheads of air which furnish us not with our daily bread,
which we can live more than a day without touching, but with our
momentary, and oftener than momentary, aliment, without which we can
not live five minutes."

"We are perishing and being born again at every instant. We do literally
enter over and over again into the womb of that great mother, from whom
we get our bones, and flesh, and blood, and marrow. 'I die daily' is true of
all that live. If we cease to die, particle by particle, and to be born anew in
the same proportion, the whole movement of life comes to an end, and
swift, universal, irreparable decay resolves our frames into the parent
elements."

"The products of the internal fire which consumes us over and over again
every year, pass off mainly in smoke and steam from the lungs and the skin.

The smoke is only invisible, because the combustion is so perfect. The
steam is plain enough in our breaths on a frosty morning; and an over-
driven horse will show us, on a larger scale, the cloud that is always arising
from own bodies."

"Man walks, then, not only in a vain show, but wrapped in an uncelestial
aureole of his own material exhalations. A great mist of gases and of vapor
rises day and night from the whole realm of living nature. The water and the
carbonic acid which animals exhale become the food of plants, whose
leaves are at once lungs and mouths. The vegetable world reverses the
breathing process of the animal creation, restoring the elements which that
has combined and rendered effete for its own purposes, to their original
condition. The salt-water ocean is a great aquarium. The air ocean in which
we live is a 'Wardian case,' of larger dimensions."

It is found that the simple elements will not nourish the body in their
natural state, but only when organized, either as vegetable or animal food;
and, to the dismay of the Grahamite or vegetarian school, it is now
established by chemists that animal and vegetable food contain the same
elements, and in nearly the same proportions.

Thus, in animal food, carbon predominates in fats, while in vegetable
food it shows itself in sugar, starch, and vegetable oils. Nitrogen is found in
animal food in the albumen, fibrin, and caseine; while in vegetables it is in
gluten, albumen, and caseine.

[Illustration: Fig. 55]

It is also a curious fact that, in all articles of food, the elements that
nourish diverse parts of the body are divided into separable portions, and
also that the proportions correspond in a great degree to the wants of the
body. For example, a kernel of wheat contains all the articles demanded for

every part of the body. Fig. 55 represents, upon an enlarged scale, the
position and proportions of the chief elements required. The white central
part is the largest in quantity, and is chiefly carbon in the form of starch,
which supplies fat and fuel for the capillaries. The shaded outer portion is
chiefly nitrogen, which nourishes the muscles, and the dark spot at the
bottom is principally phosphorus, which nourishes the brain and nerves.
And these elements are in due proportion to the demands of the body. A
portion of the outer covering of a wheat-kernel holds lime, silica, and iron,
which are needed by the body, and which are found in no other part of the
grain. The woody fibre is not digested, but serves by its bulk and
stimulating action to facilitate digestion. It is therefore evident that bread
made of unbolted flour is more healthful than that made of superfine flour.
The process of bolting removes all the woody fibre; the lime needed for the
bones; the silica for hair, nails, and teeth; the iron for the blood; and most of
the nitrogen and phosphorus needed for muscles, brain, and nerves.

Experiments on animals prove that fine flour alone, which is chiefly
carbon, will not sustain life more than a month, while unbolted flour
furnishes all that is needed for every part of the body. There are cases where
persons can not use such coarse bread, on account of its irritating action on
inflamed coats of the stomach. For such, a kind of wheaten grit is provided,
containing all the kernel of the wheat, except the outside woody fibre.

When the body requires a given kind of diet, specially demanded by
brain, lungs, or muscles, the appetite will crave food for it until the
necessary amount of this article is secured. If, then, the food in which the
needed aliment abounds is not supplied, other food will be taken in larger
quantities than needed until that amount is gained. For all kinds of food
have supplies for every want of the body, though in different proportions.
Thus, for example, if the muscles are worked a great deal, food in which
nitrogen abounds is required, and the appetite will continue until the

requisite amount of nitrogen is secured. If, then, food is taken which has not
the requisite quantity, the consequence is, that more is taken than the system
can use, while the vital powers are needlessly taxed to throw off the excess.

These facts were ascertained by Liebig, a celebrated German chemist and
physicist, who, assisted by his government, conducted experiments on a
large scale in prisons, in armies, and in hospitals. Among other results, he
states that those who use potatoes for their principal food eat them in very
much larger quantities than their bodies would demand if they used also
other food. The reason is, that the potato has a very large proportion of
starch that supplies only fuel for the capillaries and very little nitrogen to
feed the muscles. For this reason lean meat is needed with potatoes.

In comparing wheat and potatoes we find that in one hundred parts wheat
there are fourteen parts nitrogen for muscle, and two parts phosphorus for
brain and nerves. But in the potato there is only one part in one hundred for
muscle, and nine tenths of one part of phosphorus for brain and nerves.

The articles containing most of the three articles needed generally in the
body are as follows: for fat and heat-making—butter, lard, sugar, and
molasses; for muscle-making—lean meat, cheese, peas, beans, and lean
fishes; for brain and nerves—shell-fish, lean meats, peas, beans, and very
active birds and fishes who live chiefly on food in which phosphorus
abounds. In a meat diet, the fat supplies carbon for the capillaries and the
lean furnishes nutriment for muscle, brain, and nerves. Green vegetables,
fruits, and berries furnish the acid and water needed.

In grains used for food, the proportions of useful elements are varied;
there is in some more of carbon and in others more of nitrogen and
phosphorus. For example, in oats there is more of nitrogen for the muscles,
and less carbon for the lungs, than can be found in wheat. In the corn of the

North, where cold weather demands fuel for lungs and capillaries, there is
much more carbon to supply it than is found in the Southern corn.

From these statements it may be seen that one of the chief mistakes in
providing food for families has been in changing the proportions of the
elements nature has fitted for our food. Thus, fine wheat is deprived by
bolting of some of the most important of its nourishing elements, leaving
carbon chiefly, which, after supplying fuel fur the capillaries, must, if in
excess, be sent out of the body; thus needlessly taxing all the excreting
organs. So milk, which contains all the elements needed by the body, has
the cream taken out and used for butter, which again is chiefly carbon.
Then, sugar and molasses, cakes and candies, are chiefly carbon, and supply
but very little of other nourishing elements, while to make them safe much
exercise in cold and pure air is necessary. And yet it is the children of the
rich, housed in chambers and school-rooms most of their time, who are fed
with these dangerous dainties, thus weakening their constitutions, and
inducing fevers, colds, and many other diseases. The proper digestion of
food depends on the wants of the body, and on its power of appropriating
the aliment supplied. The best of food can not be properly digested when it
is not needed. All that the system requires will be used, and the rest will be
thrown out by the several excreting organs, which thus are frequently over-
taxed, and vital forces are wasted. Even food of poor quality may digest
well if the demands of the system are urgent. The way to increase digestive
power is to increase the demand for food by pure air and exercise of the
muscles, quickening the blood, and arousing the whole system to a more
rapid and vigorous rate of life.

Rules for persons in full health, who enjoy pure air and exercise, are not
suitable for those whose digestive powers are feeble, or who are diseased.
On the other hand, many rules for invalids are not needed by the healthful,
while rules for one class of invalids will not avail for other classes. Every

weak stomach has its peculiar wants, and can not furnish guidance for
others.

We are now ready to consider intelligently the following general
principles in regard to the proper selection of food:

Vegetable and animal food are equally healthful if apportioned to the
given circumstances.

In cold weather, carbonaceous food, such as butter, fats, sugar, molasses,
etc., can be used more safely than in warm weather. And they can be used
more safely by those who exercise in the open air than by those of confined
and sedentary habits.

Students who need food with little carbon, and women who live in the
house, should always seek coarse bread, fruits, and lean meats, and avoid
butter, oils, sugar, and molasses, and articles containing them.

Many students and women using little exercise in the open air, grow thin
and weak, because the vital powers are exhausted in throwing off excess of
food, especially of the carbonaceous. The liver is especially taxed in such
cases, being unable to remove all the excess of carbonaceous matter from,
the blood, and thus "biliousness" ensues, particularly on the approach of
warm weather, when the air brings less oxygen than in cold.

It is found, by experiment, that the supply of gastric juice, furnished from
the blood by the arteries of the stomach, is proportioned, not to the amount
of food put into the stomach, but to the wants of the body; so that it is
possible to put much more into the stomach than can be digested. To guide
and regulate in this matter, the sensation called hunger is provided. In a
healthy state of the body, as soon as the blood has lost its nutritive supplies,
the craving of hunger is felt, and then, if the food is suitable, and is taken in

the proper manner, this sensation ceases as soon as the stomach has
received enough to supply the wants of the system. But our benevolent
Creator, in this, as in our other duties, has connected enjoyment with the
operation needful to sustain our bodies. In addition to the allaying of
hunger, the gratification of the palate is secured by the immense variety of
food, some articles of which are far more agreeable than others.

This arrangement of Providence, designed for our happiness, has
become, either through ignorance, or want of self-control, the chief cause of
the many diseases and suffering which afflict those classes who have the
means of seeking a variety to gratify the palate. If mankind had only one
article of food, and only water to drink, though they would have less
enjoyment in eating, they would never be tempted to put any more into the
stomach than the calls of hunger require. But the customs of society, which
present an incessant change, and a great variety of food, with those various
condiments which stimulate appetite, lead almost every person very
frequently to eat merely to gratify the palate, after the stomach has been
abundantly supplied, so that hunger has ceased.

When too great a supply of food is put into the stomach, the gastric juice
dissolves only that portion which the wants of the system demand. Most of
the remainder is ejected, in an unprepared state; the absorbents take
portions of it into the system; and all the various functions of the body,
which depend on the ministries of the blood, are thus gradually and
imperceptibly injured. Very often, intemperance in eating produces
immediate results, such as colic, headaches, pains of indigestion, and
vertigo.

But the more general result is a gradual undermining of all parts of the
human frame; this imperceptibly shortening life, by so weakening the
constitution, that it is ready to yield, at every point, to any uncommon risk

or exposure. Thousands and thousands are parsing out of the world, from
diseases occasioned by exposures which a healthy constitution could meet
without any danger. It is owing to these considerations, that it becomes the
duty of every woman, who has the responsibility of providing food for a
family, to avoid a variety of tempting dishes. It is a much safer rule, to have
only one kind of healthy food, for each meal, than the too abundant variety
which is often met at the tables of almost all classes in this country. When
there is to be any variety of dishes, they ought not to be successive, but so
arranged as to give the opportunity of selection. How often is it the case,
that persons, by the appearance of a favorite article, are tempted to eat
merely to gratify the palate, when the stomach is already adequately
supplied. All such intemperance wears on the constitution, and shortens life.
It not infrequently happens that excess in eating produces a morbid appetite,
which must constantly be denied.

But the organization of the digestive organs demands, not only that food
should be taken in proper quantities, but that it be taken at proper times.

[Illustration: Fig. 56.]

Fig. 56 shows one important feature of the digestive organs relating to
this point. The part marked LM shows the muscles of the inner coat of the
stomach, which run in one direction, and CM shows the muscles of the
outer coat, running in another direction.

As soon as the food enters the stomach, the muscles are excited by the
nerves, and the peristaltic motion commences. This is a powerful and
constant exercise of the muscles of the stomach, which continues until the
process of digestion is complete. During this time the blood is withdrawn
from other parts of the system, to supply the demands of the stomach,
which is laboring hard with all its muscles. When this motion ceases, and
the digested food has gradually passed out, nature requires that the stomach

should have a period of repose. And if another meal be eaten immediately
after one is digested, the stomach is set to work again before it has had time
to rest, and before a sufficient supply of gastric juice is provided.

The general rule, then, is, that three hours be given to the stomach for
labor, and two for rest; and in obedience to this, five hours, at least, ought to
elapse between every two regular meals. In cases where exercise produces a
flow of perspiration, more food is needed to supply the loss; and strong
laboring men may safely eat as often as they feel the want of food. So,
young and healthy children, who gambol and exercise ranch and whose
bodies grow fast, may have a more frequent supply of food. But, as a
general rule, meals should be five hours apart, and eating between meals
avoided. There is nothing more unsafe, and wearing to the constitution, than
a habit of eating at any time merely to gratify the palate. When a tempting
article is presented, every person should exercise sufficient self-denial to
wait till the proper time for eating arrives. Children, as well as grown
persons, are often injured by eating between their regular meals, thus
weakening the stomach by not affording it any time for rest.

In deciding as to quantity of food, there is one great difficulty to be met
by a large portion of the community. The exercise of every part of the body
is necessary to its health and perfection. The bones, the muscles, the nerves,
the organs of digestion and respiration, and the skin, all demand exercise, in
order properly to perform their functions. When the muscles of the body are
called into action, all the blood-vessels entwined among them are frequently
compressed. As the veins have valves so contrived that the blood can not
run back, this compression hastens it forward toward the heart; which is
immediately put in quicker motion, to send it into the lungs; and they, also,
are thus stimulated to more rapid action, which is the cause of that panting
which active exercise always occasions. The blood thus courses with
greater celerity through the body, and sooner loses its nourishing properties.

Then the stomach issues its mandate of hunger, and a new supply of food
must be furnished.

Thus it appears, as a general rule, that the quantity of food actually
needed by the body depends on the amount of muscular exercise taken. A
laboring man, in the open fields, probably throws off from his skin and
lungs a much larger amount than a person of sedentary pursuits. In
consequence of this, he demands a greater amount of food and drink.

Those persons who keep their bodies in a state of health by sufficient
exercise can always be guided by the calls of hunger. They can eat when
they feel hungry, and stop when hunger ceases; and thus they will calculate
exactly right. But the difficulty is, that a large part of the community,
especially women, are so inactive in their habits that they seldom feel the
calls of hunger. They habitually eat, merely to gratify the palate. This
produces such a state of the system that they lose the guide which Nature
has provided. They are not called to eat by hunger, nor admonished, by its
cessation, when to stop. In consequence of this, such persons eat what
pleases the palate, till they feel no more inclination for the article. It is
probable that three fourths of the women in the wealthier circles sit down to
each meal without any feeling of hunger, and eat merely on account of the
gratification thus afforded them. Such persons find their appetite to depend
almost solely upon the kind of food on the table. This is not the case with
those who take the exercise which Nature demands. They approach their
meals in such a state that almost any kind of food is acceptable.

The question then arises, How are persons, who have lost the guide
which Nature has provided, to determine as to the proper amount of food
they shall take?

The best method is for several days to take their ordinary exercise and eat
only one or two articles of simple food, such as bread and milk, or bread

and butter with cooked fruit, or lean meat with bread and vegetables, and at
the same time eat less than the appetite demands. Then on the following two
days, take just enough to satisfy the appetite, and on the third day notice the
quantity which satisfies. After this, decide before eating that only this
amount of simple food shall be taken.

Persons who have a strong constitution, and take much exercise, may eat
almost any thing with apparent impunity; but young children who are
forming their constitutions, and persons who are delicate, and who take but
little exercise, are very dependent for health on a proper selection of food.

It is found that there are some kinds of food which afford nutriment to the
blood, and do not produce any other effect on the system. There are other
kinds, which are not only nourishing, but stimulating, so that they quicken
the functions of the organs on which they operate. The condiments used in
cookery, such as pepper, mustard, and spices, are of this nature. There are
certain states of the system when these stimulants may be beneficial; such
cases can only be pointed out by medical men.

Persons in perfect health, and especially young children, never receive
any benefit from such kind of food; and just in proportion as condiments
operate to quicken the labors of the internal organs, they tend to wear down
their powers. A person who thus keeps the body working under an unnatural
excitement, live faster than Nature designed, and the constitution is worn
out just so much the sooner. A woman, therefore, should provide dishes for
her family which are free from these stimulating condiments.

It is also found, by experience, that the lean part of animal food is more
stimulating than vegetable. This is the reason why, in cases of fevers or
inflammations, medical men forbid the use of meat. A person who lives
chiefly on animal food is under a higher degree of stimulus than if his food
was chiefly composed of vegetable substances. His blood will flow faster,

and all the functions of his body will be quickened. This makes it important
to secure a proper proportion of animal and vegetable diet. Some medical
men suppose that an exclusively vegetable diet is proved, by the experience
of many individuals, to be fully sufficient to nourish the body; and bring, as
evidence, the fact that some of the strongest and most robust men in the
world are those who are trained, from infancy, exclusively on vegetable
food. From this they infer that life will be shortened just in proportion as the
diet is changed to more stimulating articles; and that, all other things being
equal, children will have a better chance of health and long life if they are
brought up solely on vegetable food.

But, though this is not the common opinion of medical men, they all
agree that, in America, far too large a portion of the diet consists of animal
food. As a nation, the Americans are proverbial for the gross and luxurious
diet with which they load their tables; and there can be no doubt that the
general health of the nation would be increased by a change in our customs
in this respect. To take meat but once a day, and this in small quantities,
compared with the common practice, is a rule, the observance of which
would probably greatly reduce the amount of fevers, eruptions, headaches,
bilious attacks, and the many other ailments which are produced or
aggravated by too gross a diet.

The celebrated Roman physician, Baglivi, (who, from practicing
extensively among Roman Catholics, had ample opportunities to observe,)
mentions that, in Italy, an unusual number of people recover their health in
the forty days of Lent, in consequence of the lower diet which is required as
a religious duty. An American physician remarks, "For every reeling
drunkard that disgraces our country, it contains one hundred gluttons—
persons, I mean, who eat to excess, and suffer in consequence." Another
distinguished physician says, "I believe that every stomach, not actually
impaired by organic disease, will perform its functions, if it receives

reasonable attention; and when we perceive the manner in which diet is
generally conducted, both in regard to quantity and variety of articles of
food and drink, which are mixed up in one heterogeneous mass—instead of
being astonished at the prevalence of indigestion, our wonder must rather
be that, in such circumstances, any stomach is capable of digesting at all."

In regard to articles which are the most easily digested, only general rules
can be given. Tender meats are digested more readily than those which are
tough, or than many kinds of vegetable food. The farinaceous articles, such
as rice, flour, corn, potatoes, and the like, are the most nutritious, and most
easily digested. The popular notion, that meat is more nourishing than
bread, is a great mistake. Good bread contains more nourishment than
butcher's meat. The meat is more stimulating, and for this reason is more
readily digested.

A perfectly healthy stomach can digest almost any healthful food; but
when the digestive powers are weak, every stomach has its peculiarities,
and what is good for one is hurtful to another. In such cases, experiment
alone can decide which are the most digestible articles of food. A person
whose food troubles him must deduct one article after another, till he learns,
by experience, which is the best for digestion. Much evil has been done, by
assuming that the powers of one stomach are to be made the rule in
regulating every other.

The most unhealthful kinds of food are those which, are made so by bad
cooking; such as sour and heavy bread, cakes, pie-crust, and other dishes
consisting of fat mixed and cooked with flour. Rancid butter and high-
seasoned food are equally unwholesome. The fewer mixtures there are in
cooking, the more healthful is the food likely to be.

There is one caution as to the mode of eating which seems peculiarly
needful to Americans. It is indispensable to good digestion, that food be

well chewed and taken slowly. It needs to be thoroughly chewed and mixed
with saliva, in order to prepare it for the action of the gastric juice, which,
by the peristaltic motion, will be thus brought into contact with every one of
the minute portions.

It has been found that a solid lump of food requires much more time and
labor of the stomach for digestion than divided substances. It has also been
found, that as each bolus, or mouthful, enters the stomach, the latter closes,
until the portion received has had some time to move around and combine
with the gastric juice, and that the orifice of the stomach resists the entrance
of any more till this is accomplished. But, if the eater persists in swallowing
fast, the stomach yields; the food is then poured in more rapidly than the
organ can perform its duty of preparative digestion; and evil results are
sooner or later developed. This exhibits the folly of those hasty meals, so
common to travelers and to men of business, and shows why children
should be taught to eat slowly.

After taking a full meal, it is very important to health that no great bodily
or mental exertion be made till the labor of the stomach is over. Intense
mental effort draws the blood to the head, and muscular exertions draw it to
the muscles; and in consequence of this, the stomach loses the supply which
it requires when performing its office. When the blood with its stimulating
effects is thus withdrawn from the stomach, the adequate supply of gastric
juice is not afforded, and indigestion is the result. The heaviness which
follows a full meal is the indication which Nature gives of the need of quiet.
When the meal is moderate, a sufficient quantity of gastric juice is exuded
in an hour, or an hour and a half; after which, labor of body and mind may
safely be resumed.

When undigested food remains in the stomach, and is at last thrown out
into the bowels, it proves an irritating substance, producing an inflamed

state in the lining of the stomach and other organs.

It is found that the stomach has the power of gradually accommodating
indigestive powers to the food it habitually receives. Thus, animals which
live on vegetables can gradually become accustomed to animal food; and
the reverse is equally true. Thus, too, the human stomach can eventually
accomplish the digestion of some kinds of food, which, at first, were
indigestible.

But any changes of this sort should be gradual; as those which are sudden
are trying to the powers of the stomach, by furnishing matter for which its
gastric juice is not prepared.

Extremes of heat or cold are injurious to the process of digestion. Taking
hot food or drink, habitually, tends to debilitate all the organs thus
needlessly excited. In using cold substances, it is found that a certain degree
of warmth in the stomach is indispensable to their digestion; so that, when
the gastric juice is cooled below this temperature, it ceases to act. Indulging
in large quantities of cold drinks, or eating ice-creams, after a meal, tends to
reduce the temperature of the stomach, and thus to stop digestion. This
shows the folly of those refreshments, in convivial meetings, where the
guests are tempted to load the stomach with a variety such as would require
the stomach of a stout farmer to digest; and then to wind up with ice-
creams, thus lessening whatever ability might otherwise have existed to
digest the heavy load. The fittest temperature for drinks, if taken when the
food is in the digesting process, is blood heat. Cool drinks, and even ice,
can be safely taken at other times, if not in excessive quantity. When the
thirst is excessive, or the body weakened by fatigue, or when in a state of
perspiration, large quantities of cold drinks are injurious.

Fluids taken into the stomach are not subject to the slow process of
digestion, but are immediately absorbed and carried into the blood. This is

the reason why liquid nourishment, more speedily than solid food, restores
from exhaustion. The minute vessels of the stomach absorb its fluids, which
are carried into the blood, just as the minute extremities of the arteries open
upon the inner surface of the stomach, and there exude the gastric juice
from the blood.

When food is chiefly liquid, (soup, for example,) the fluid part is rapidly
absorbed. The solid parts remain, to be acted on by the gastric juice. In the
case of St. Martin, [Footnote: The individual here referred to—Alexis St.
Martin—was a young Canadian, eighteen years of age, of a good
constitution and robust health, who, in 1822, was accidentally wounded by
the discharge of a musket which: carried away a part of the ribs, lacerated
one of two lobes of the lungs, and perforated the stomach, making a large
aperture, which never closed; and which enabled Dr. Beaumont (a surgeon
of the American army, stationed at Michilimackanac, under whose care the
patient was placed) to witness all the processes of digestion and other
functions of the body for several years.] in fifty minutes after taking soup,
the fluids were absorbed, and the remainder was even thicker than is usual
after eating solid food. This is the reason why soups are deemed bad for
weak stomachs; as this residuum is more difficult of digestion than ordinary
food.

Highly-concentrated food, having much nourishment in a small bulk, is
not favorable to digestion, because it can not be properly acted on by the
muscular contractions of the stomach, and is not so minutely divided as to
enable the gastric juice to act properly. This is the reason why a certain bulk
of food is needful to good digestion; and why those people who live on
whale-oil and other highly nourishing food, in cold climates, mix
vegetables and even sawdust with it to make it more acceptable and
digestible. So in civilized lands, fruits and vegetables are mixed with more
highly concentrated nourishment. For this reason also, soups, jellies, and

arrow-root should have bread or crackers mixed with them. This affords
another reason why coarse bread, of unbolted wheat, so often proves
beneficial. Where, from inactive habits or other causes, the bowels become
constipated and sluggish, this kind of food proves the appropriate remedy.

One fact on this subject is worthy of notice. In England, under the
administration of William Pitt, for two years or more there was such a
scarcity of wheat that, to make it hold out longer, Parliament passed a law
that the army should have all their bread made of unbolted flour. The result
was, that the health of the soldiers improved so much as to be a subject of
surprise to themselves, the officers, and the physicians. These last came out
publicly and declared that the soldiers never before were so robust and
healthy; and that disease had nearly disappeared from the army. The civic
physicians joined and pronounced it the healthiest bread; and for a time
schools, families, and public institutions used it almost exclusively. Even
the nobility, convinced by these facts, adopted it for their common diet, and
the fashion continued a long time after the scarcity ceased, until more
luxurious habits resumed their sway.

We thus see why children should not have cakes and candies allowed
them between meals. Besides being largely carbonaceous, these are highly
concentrated nourishments, and should be eaten with more bulky and less
nourishing substances. The most indigestible of all kinds of food are fatty
and oily substances, if heated. It is on this account that pie-crust and articles
boiled and fried in fat or butter are deemed not so healthful as other food.

The following, then, may be put down as the causes of a debilitated
constitution from the misuse of food. Eating too much, eating too often,
eating too fast, eating food and condiments that are too stimulating, eating
food that is too warm or too cold, eating food that is highly concentrated,

without a proper admixture of less nourishing matter, and eating hot food
that is difficult of digestion.

X.

HEALTHFUL DRINKS.

There is no direction in which a woman more needs both scientific
knowledge and moral force than in using her influence to control her family
in regard to stimulating beverages.

It is a point fully established by experience that the full development of
the human body and the vigorous exercise of all its functions can be secured
without the use of stimulating drinks. It is, therefore, perfectly safe to bring
up children never to use them, no hazard being incurred by such a course.

It is also found by experience that there are two evils incurred by the use
of stimulating drinks. The first is, their positive effect on the human system.
Their peculiarity consists in so exciting the nervous system that all the
functions of the body are accelerated, and the fluids are caused to move
quicker than at their natural speed. This increased motion of the animal
fluids always produces an agreeable effect on the mind. The intellect is
invigorated, the imagination is excited, the spirits are enlivened; and these
effects are so agreeable that all mankind, after having once experienced
them, feel a great desire for their repetition.

But this temporary invigoration of the system is always followed by a
diminution of the powers of the stimulated organs; so that, though in all

cases this reaction may not be perceptible, it is invariably the result. It may
be set down as the unchangeable rule of physiology, that stimulating drinks
deduct from the powers of the constitution in exactly the proportion in
which they operate to produce temporary invigoration.

The second evil is the temptation which always attends the use of
stimulants. Their effect on the system is so agreeable, and the evils resulting
are so imperceptible and distant, that there is a constant tendency to
increase such excitement both in frequency and power. And the more the
system is thus reduced in strength, the more craving is the desire for that
which imparts a temporary invigoration. This process of increasing debility
and increasing craving for the stimulus that removes it, often goes to such
an extreme that the passion is perfectly uncontrollable, and mind and body
perish under this baleful habit.

In this country there are three forms in which the use of such stimulants
is common; namely, alcoholic drinks, opium mixtures, and tobacco. These
are all alike in the main peculiarity of imparting that extra stimulus to the
system which tends to exhaust its powers.

Multitudes in this nation are in the habitual use of some one of these
stimulants; and each person defends the indulgence by certain arguments:

First, that the desire for stimulants is a natural propensity implanted in
man's nature, as is manifest from the universal tendency to such
indulgences in every nation. From this, it is inferred that it is an innocent
desire, which ought to be gratified to some extent, and that the aim should
be to keep it within the limits of temperance, instead of attempting to
exterminate a natural propensity.

This is an argument which, if true, makes it equally proper for not only
men, but women and children, to use opium, brandy, or tobacco as

stimulating principles, provided they are used temperately. But if it be
granted that perfect health and strength can be gained and secured without
these stimulants, and that their peculiar effect is to diminish the power of
the system in exactly the same proportion as they stimulate it, then there is
no such thing as a temperate use, unless they are so diluted as to destroy
any stimulating power; and in this form they are seldom desired.

The other argument for their use is, that they are among the good things
provided by the Creator for our gratification; that, like all other blessings,
they are exposed to abuse and excess; and that we should rather seek to
regulate their use than to banish them entirely.

This argument is based on the assumption that they are, like healthful
foods and drinks, necessary to life and health, and injurious only by excess.
But this is not true; for whenever they are used in any such strength as to be
a gratification, they operate to a greater or less extent as stimulants; and to
just such extent they wear out the powers of the constitution; and it is
abundantly proved that they are not, like food and drink, necessary to
health. Such articles are designed for medicine and not for common use.
There can be no argument framed to defend the use of one of them which
will not justify women and children in most dangerous indulgences.

There are some facts recently revealed by the microscope in regard to
alcoholic drinks, which every woman should understand and regard. It has
been shown in a previous chapter that every act of mind, either by thought,
feeling, or choice, causes the destruction of certain cells in the brain and
nerves. It now is proved by microscopic science [Footnote: For those
statements the writer is indebted to Maudsley, a recent writer on
Microscopic Physiology.] that the kind of nutrition furnished to the brain by
the blood to a certain extent decides future feelings, thoughts, and volitions.
The cells of the brain not only abstract from the blood the healthful

nutrition, but also are affected in shape, size, color, and action by unsuitable
elements in the blood. This is especially the case when alcohol is taken into
the stomach, from whence it is always carried to the brain. The consequence
is, that it affects the nature and action of the brain-cells, until a habit is
formed which is automatic; that is, the mind loses the power of controlling
the brain, in its development of thoughts, feelings, and choices as it would
in the natural state, and is itself controlled by the brain. In this condition a
real disease of the brain is created, called oino-mania, (see Glossary,) and
the only remedy is total abstinence, and that for a long period, from the
alcoholic poison. And what makes the danger more fearful is, that the brain-
cells never are so renewed but that this pernicious stimulus will bring back
the disease in full force, so that a man once subject to it is never safe except
by maintaining perpetual and total abstinence from every kind of alcoholic
drink. Dr. Day, who for many years has had charge of an inebriate asylum,
states that he witnessed the dissection of the brain of a man once an
inebriate, but for many years in practice of total abstinence, and found its
cells still in the weak and unnatural state produced by earlier indulgences.

There has unfortunately been a difference of opinion among medical men
as to the use of alcohol. Liebig, the celebrated writer on animal chemistry,
having found that both sugar and alcohol were heat-producing articles of
food, framed a theory that alcohol is burnt in the lungs, giving off carbonic
acid and water, and thus serving to warm the body. But modern science has
proved that it is in the capillaries that animal heat is generated, and it is
believed that alcohol lessens instead of increasing the power of the body to
bear the cold. Sir John Koss, in his Arctic voyage, proved by his own
experience and that of his men that cold-water drinkers could bear cold
longer and were stronger than any who used alcohol.

Carpenter, a standard writer on physiology, says the objection to a
habitual use of even small quantities of alcoholic drinks is, that "they are

universally admitted to possess a poisonous character," and "tend to
produce a morbid condition of body;" while "the capacity for enduring
extremes of heat and cold, or of mental or bodily labor, is diminished rather
than increased by their habitual employment."

Prof. J. Bigelow, of Harvard University, says, "Alcohol is highly
stimulating, heating, and intoxicating, and its effects are so fascinating that
when once experienced there is danger that the desire for them may be
perpetuated."

Dr. Bell and Dr. Churchill, both high medical authorities, especially in
lung disease, for which whisky is often recommended, come to the
conclusion that "the opinion that alcoholic liquors have influence in
preventing the deposition of tubercle is destitute of any foundation; on the
contrary, their use predisposes to tubercular deposition." And "where
tubercle exists, alcohol has no effect in modifying the usual course, neither
does it modify the morbid effects on the system."

Prof. Youmans, of New-York, says: "It has been demonstrated that
alcoholic drinks prevent the natural changes in the blood, and obstruct the
nutritive and reparative functions." He adds, "Chemical experiments have
demonstrated that the action of alcohol on the digestive fluid is to destroy
its active principle, the _pepsin, thus confirming the observations of
physiologists, that its use gives rise to serious disorders of the stomach and
malignant aberration of the whole economy."

We are now prepared to consider the great principles of science, common
sense, and religion, which should guide every woman who has any kind of
influence or responsibility on this subject. It is allowed by all medical men
that pure water is perfectly healthful and supplies all the liquid needed by
the body; and also that by proper means, which ordinarily are in the reach
of all, water can be made sufficiently pure.

It is allowed by all that milk, and the juices of fruits, when taken into the
stomach, furnish water that is always pure, and that our bread and vegetable
food also supply it in large quantities. There are besides a great variety of
agreeable and healthful beverages, made from the juices of fruit, containing
no alcohol, and agreeable drinks, such as milk, cocoa, and chocolate, that
contain no stimulating principles, and which are nourishing and healthful.

As one course, then, is perfectly safe and another involves great danger, it
is wrong and sinful to choose the path of danger. There is no peril in
drinking pure water, milk, the juices of fruits, and infusions that are
nourishing and harmless. But there is great danger to the young, and to the
commonwealth, in patronizing the sale and use of alcoholic drinks. The
religion of Christ, in its distinctive feature, involves generous self-denial for
the good of others, especially for the weaker members of society. It is on
this principle that St. Paul sets forth his own example, "If meat make my
brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make
my brother to offend." And again he teaches, "We, then, that are strong
ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves."

This Christian principle also applies to the common drinks of the family,
tea and coffee.

It has been shown that the great end for which Jesus Christ came, and for
which he instituted the family state, is the training of our whole race to
virtue and happiness, with chief reference to an immortal existence. In this
mission, of which woman is chief minister, as before stated, the distinctive
feature is self-sacrifice of the wiser and stronger members to save and to
elevate the weaker ones. The children and the servants are these weaker
members, who by ignorance and want of habits of self-control are in most
danger. It is in this aspect that we are to consider the expediency of using
tea and coffee in a family.

These drinks are a most extensive cause of much of the nervous debility
and suffering endured by American women; and relinquishing them, would
save an immense amount of such suffering. Moreover, all housekeepers will
allow that they can not regulate these drinks in their kitchens, where the
ignorant use them to excess. There is little probability that the present
generation will make so decided a change in their habits as to give up these
beverages; but the subject is presented rather in reference to forming the
habits of children.

It is a fact that tea and coffee are at first seldom or never agreeable to
children. It is the mixture of milk, sugar, and water, that reconciles them to
a taste, which in this manner gradually becomes agreeable. Now suppose
that those who provide for a family conclude that it is not their duty to give
up entirely the use of stimulating drinks, may not the case appear different
in regard to teaching their children to love such drinks? Let the matter be
regarded thus: The experiments of physiologists all prove that stimulants
are not needful to health, and that, as the general rule, they tend to debilitate
the constitution. Is it right, then, for a parent to tempt a child to drink what
is not needful, when there is a probability that it will prove, to some extent,
an undermining drain on the constitution? Some constitutions can bear
much less excitement than others; and in every family of children, there is
usually one or more of delicate organization, and consequently peculiarly
exposed to dangers from this source. It is this child who ordinarily becomes
the victim to stimulating drinks. The tea and coffee which the parents and
the healthier children can use without immediate injury, gradually sap the
energies of the feebler child, who proves either an early victim or a living
martyr to all the sufferings that debilitated nerves inflict. Can it be right to
lead children where all allow that there is some danger, and where in many
cases disease and death are met, when, another path is known to be
perfectly safe?

The impression common in this country, that warm drinks, especially in
winter, are more healthful than cold, is not warranted by any experience,
nor by the laws of the physical system. At dinner, cold drinks are universal,
and no one deems them injurious. It is only at the other two meals that they
are supposed to be hurtful.

There is no doubt that warm drinks are healthful, and more agreeable
than cold, at certain times and seasons; but it is equally true that drinks
above blood-heat are not healthful. If a person should bathe in warm water
every day, debility would inevitably follow; for the frequent application of
the stimulus of heat, like all other stimulants, eventually causes relaxation
and weakness. If, therefore, a person is in the habit of drinking hot drinks
twice a day, the teeth, throat, and stomach are gradually debilitated. This,
most probably, is one of the causes of an early decay of the teeth, which is
observed to be much more common among American ladies, than among
those in European countries.

It has been stated to the writer, by an intelligent traveler who had visited
Mexico, that it was rare to meet an individual with even a tolerable set of
teeth, and that almost every grown person he met in the street had merely
remnants of teeth. On inquiry into the customs of the country, it was found
that it was the universal practice to take their usual beverage at almost the
boiling-point; and this doubtless was the chief cause of the almost entire
want of teeth in that country. In the United States, it can not be doubted that
much evil is done in this way by hot drinks. Most tea-drinkers consider tea
as ruined if it stands until it reaches the healthful temperature for drink.

The following extract, from Dr. Andrew Combe, presents the opinion of
most intelligent medical men on this subject. [Footnote: The writer would
here remark, in reference to extracts made from various authors, that, for
the sake of abridging, she has often left out parts of a paragraph, but never

so as to modify the meaning of the author. Some ideas, not connected with
the subject in hand, are omitted, but none are altered.]

"Water is a safe drink for all constitutions, provided it be resorted to in
obedience to the dictates of natural thirst only, and not of habit. Unless the
desire for it is felt, there is no occasion for its use during a meal."

"The primary effect of all distilled and fermented liquors is to stimulate
the nervous system and quicken the circulation. In infancy and childhood,
the circulation is rapid and easily excited; and the nervous system is
strongly acted upon even by the slightest external impressions. Hence,
slight causes of irritation readily excite febrile and convulsive disorders. In
youth, the natural tendency of the constitution is still to excitement, and
consequently, as a general rule, the stimulus of fermented liquors is
injurious."

These remarks show that parents, who find that stimulating drinks are not
injurious to themselves, may mistake in inferring from this that they will
not be injurious to their children.

Dr. Combe continues thus: "In mature age, when digestion is good, and
the system in full vigor, if the mode of life be not too exhausting, the
nervous functions and general circulation are in their best condition, and
require no stimulus for their support. The bodily energy is then easily
sustained by nutritious food and a regular regimen, and consequently
artificial excitement only increases the wasting of the natural strength."

It may be asked, in this connection, why the stimulus of animal food is
not to be regarded in the same light as that of stimulating drinks. In reply, a
very essential difference may he pointed out. Animal food furnishes
nutriment to the organs which it stimulates, but stimulating drinks excite the
organs to quickened action without affording any nourishment.

It has been supposed by some that tea and coffee have, at least, a degree
of nourishing power. But it is proved that it is the milk and sugar, and not
the main portion of the drink, which imparts the nourishment. Tea has not
one particle of nourishing properties; and what little exists in the coffee-
berry is lost by roasting it in the usual mode. All that these articles do, is
simply to stimulate without nourishing.

Although there is little hope of banishing these drinks, there is still a
chance that something may be gained in attempts to regulate their use by
the rules of temperance. If, then, a housekeeper can not banish tea and
coffee entirely, she may use her influence to prevent excess, both by her
instructions, and by the power of control committed more or less to her
hands.

It is important for every housekeeper to know that the health of a family
very much depends on the purity of water used for cooking and drinking.
There are three causes of impure and unhealthful water. One is, the
existence in it of vegetable or animal matter, which can be remedied by
filtering through sand and charcoal. Another cause is, the existence of
mineral matter, especially in limestone countries, producing diseases of the
bladder. This is remedied in a measure by boiling, which secures a deposit
of the lime on the vessel used. The third cause is, the corroding of zinc and
lead used in pipes and reservoirs, producing oxides that are slow poisons.
The only remedy is prevention, by having supply-pipes made of iron, like
gas-pipe, instead of zinc and lead; or the lately invented lead pipe lined with
tin, which metal is not corrosive. The obstacle to this is, that the trade of the
plumbers would be greatly diminished by the use of reliable pipes. When
water must be used from supply-pipes of lead or zinc, it is well to let the
water run some time before drinking it and to use as little as possible, taking
milk instead; and being further satisfied for inner necessities by the water
supplied by fruits and vegetables. The water in these is always pure. But in

using milk as a drink, it must be remembered that it is also rich food, and
that less of other food must be taken when milk is thus used, or bilious
troubles will result from excess of food.

The use of opium, especially by women, is usually caused at first by
medical prescriptions containing it. All that has been stated as to the effect
of alcohol in the brain is true of opium; while, to break a habit thus induced
is almost hopeless, Every woman who takes or who administers this drug, is
dealing as with poisoned arrows, whose wounds are without cure.

The use of tobacco in this country, and especially among young boys, is
increasing at a fearful rate. On this subject, we have the unanimous opinion
of all medical men; the following being specimens.

A distinguished medical writer thus states the case: "Every physician
knows that the agreeable sensations that tempt to the use of tobacco are
caused by nicotine, which is a rank poison, as much so as prussic acid or
arsenic. When smoked, the poison is absorbed by the blood of the mouth,
and carried to the brain. When chewed, the nicotine passes to the blood
through the mouth and stomach. In both cases, the whole nervous system is
thrown, into abnormal excitement to expel the poison, and it is this
excitement that causes agreeable sensations. The excitement thus caused is
invariably followed by a diminution of nervous power, in exact proportion
to the preceding excitement to expel the evil from the system."

Few will dispute the general truth and effect of the above statement, so
that the question is one to be settled on the same principle as applies to the
use of alcoholic drinks. Is it, then, according to the generous principles of
Christ's religion, for those who are strong and able to bear this poison, to
tempt the young, the ignorant, and the weak to a practice not needful to any
healthful enjoyment, and which leads multitudes to disease, and often to
vice? For the use of tobacco tends always to lessen nerve-power, and

probably every one out of five that indulges in its use awakens a morbid
craving for increased stimulus, lessens the power of self-control, diminishes
the strength of the constitution, and sets an example that influences the
weak to the path of danger and of frequent ruin.

The great danger of this age is an increasing, intense worldliness, and
disbelief in the foundation principle of the religion of Christ, that we are to
reap through everlasting ages the consequences of habits formed in this life.
In the light of his word, they only who are truly wise "shall shine as the
firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars, forever
and ever."

It is increased faith or belief in the teachings of Christ's religion, as to the
influence of this life upon the life to come, which alone can save our
country and the world from that inrushing tide of sensualism and
worldliness, now seeming to threaten the best hopes and prospects of our
race.

And woman, as the chief educator of our race, and the prime minister of
the family state, is bound in the use of meats and drinks to employ the
powerful and distinctive motives of the religion of Christ in forming habits
of temperance and benevolent self-sacrifice for the good of others.

XI.

CLEANLINESS.

Both the health and comfort of a family depend, to a great extent, on
cleanliness of the person and the family surroundings. True cleanliness of
person involves the scientific treatment of the skin. This is the most
complicated organ of the body, and one through which the health is affected
more than through any other; and no persons can or will he be so likely to
take proper care of it as those by whom its construction and functions are
understood.

[Illustration: Fig. 57.]

Fig. 57 is a very highly magnified portion of the skin. The layer marked 1
is the outside, very thin skin, called the cuticle or scarf skin. This consists of
transparent layers of minute cells, which are constantly decaying and being
renewed, and the white scurf that passes from the skin to the clothing is a
decayed portion of these cells. This part of the skin has neither nerves nor
blood-vessels.

The dark layer, marked 2, 7, 8, is that portion of the true skin which gives
the external color marking diverse races. In the portion of the dark layer
marked 3, 4, is seen a network of nerves which run from two branches of
the nervous trunks coming from the spinal marrow. These arc nerves of

sensation, by which the sense of touch or feeling is performed. Fig. 58
represents the blood-vessels, (intermingled with the nerves of the skin,)
which divide into minute capillaries that act like the capillaries of the lungs,
taking oxygen from the air, and giving out carbonic acid. At a, and b are
seen the roots of two hairs, which abound in certain parts of the skin, and
are nourished by the blood of the capillaries.

[Illustration: Fig. 58.]
[Illustration: Fig. 59.]

At Fig. 59 is a magnified view of another set of vessels, called the
lymphatics or absorbents. These are extremely minute vessels that interlace
with the nerves and blood-vessels of the skin. Their office is to aid in
collecting the useless, injurious, or decayed matter, and carry it to certain
reservoirs, from which it passes into some of the large veins, to be thrown
out through the lungs, bowels, kidneys, or skin. These absorbent or
lymphatic; vessels have mouths opening on the surface of the true skin, and,
though covered by the cuticle, they can absorb both liquids and solids that
are placed in close contact with the skin. In proof of this, one of the main
trunks of the lymphatics in the hand can be cut off from all communication
with other portions, and tied up: and if the hand is immersed in milk a given
time, it will be found that the milk has been, absorbed through the cuticle
and fills the lymphatics. In this way, long-continued blisters on the skin will
introduce the blistering matter into the blood through the absorbents, and
then the kidneys will take it up from the blood passing through them to
carry it out of the body, and thus become irritated and inflamed by it.

[Illustration: Fig. 60]

There are also oil-tubes, imbedded in the skin, that draw off oil from the
blood. This issues on the surface and spreads over the cuticle to keep it soft
and moist. But the most curious part of the skin is the system of

innumerable minute perspiration-tubes. Fig. 60 is a drawing of one very
greatly magnified. These tubes open on the cuticle, and the openings are
called pores of the skin. They descend into the true skin, and there form a
coil, as is seen in the drawing. These tubes are hollow, like a pipe-stem, and
their inner surface consists of wonderfully minute capillaries filled with the
impure venous blood. And in these small tubes the same process is going on
as takes places when the carbonic acid and water of the blood are exhaled
from the lungs. The capillaries of these tubes through the whole skin of the
body are thus constantly exhaling the noxious and decayed particles of the
body, just as the lungs pour them out through the mouth and nose.

It has been shown that the perspiration-tubes are coiled up into a ball at
their base. The number and extent of these tubes are astonishing. In a square
inch on the palm of the hand have been counted, through a microscope,
thirty-five hundred of these tubes. Each one of them is about a quarter of an
inch in length, including its coils. This makes the united lengths of these
little tubes to be seventy-three feet to a square inch. Their united length,
over the whole body is thus calculated to be equal to twenty-eight miles.
What a wonderful apparatus this! And what mischiefs must ensue when the
drainage from the body of such an extent as this becomes obstructed!

But the inside of the body also has a skin, as have all its organs. The
interior of the head, the throat, the gullet, the lungs, the stomach, and all the
intestines, are lined with a skin. This is called the mucous membrane,
because it is constantly secreting from the blood a slimy substance called
mucus. When it accumulates in the lungs, it is called phlegm. This inner
skin also has nerves, blood-vessels, and lymphatics. The outer skin joins to
the inner at the month, the nose, and other openings of the body, and there
is a constant sympathy between the two skins, and thus between the inner
organs and the surface of the body.

SECRETING ORGANS.

Those vessels of the body which draw off certain portions of the blood and
change it into a new form, to be employed for service or to be thrown out of
the body, are called secreting organs. The skin in this sense is a secreting
organ, as its perspiration-tubes secrete or separate the bad portions of the
blood, and send them off.

Of the internal secreting organs, the liver is the largest. Its chief office is
to secrete from the blood all matter not properly supplied with oxygen. For
this purpose, a set of veins carries the blood of all the lower intestines to the
liver, where the imperfectly oxidized matter is drawn off in the form of bile,
and accumulated in a reservoir called the gall-bladder. Thence it passes to
the place where the smaller intestines receive the food from the stomach,
and there it mixes with this food. Then it passes through the long intestines,
and is thrown out of the body through the rectum. This shows how it is, that
want of pure and cool air and exercise causes excess of bile, from lack of
oxygen. The liver also has arterial blood sent to nourish it, and
corresponding veins to return this blood to the heart. So there are two sets
of blood-vessels for the liver—one to secrete the bile, and the other to
nourish the organ itself.

The kidneys secrete from the arteries that pass, through them all excess
of water in the blood, and certain injurious substances. These are carried
through small tubes to the bladder, and thence thrown out of the body.

The pancreas, a whitish gland, situated in the abdomen below the
stomach, secretes from the arteries that pass through it the pancreatic juice,
which unites with the bile from the liver, in preparing the food for
nourishing the body.

There are certain little glands near the eyes that secrete the tears, and
others near the mouth that secrete the saliva, or spittle.

These organs all have arteries sent to them to nourish them, and also
veins to carry away the impure blood. At the same time, they secrete from
the arterial blood the peculiar fluid which it is their office to supply.

All the food that passes through the lower intestines which is not drawn
off by the lacteals or by some of these secreting organs, passes from the
body through a passage called the rectum.

Learned men have made very curious experiments; to ascertain how
much the several organs throw out of the body, It is found that the skin
throws off five out of eight pounds of the food and drink, or probably about
three or four pounds a day. The lungs throw off one quarter as much as the
skin, or about a pound a day. The remainder is carried off by the kidneys
and lower intestines.

There is such a sympathy and connection between all the organs of the
body, that when one of them is unable to work, the others perform the office
of the feeble one. Thus, if the skin has its perspiration-tubes closed up by a
chill, then all the poisonous matter that would have been thrown out
through them must be emptied out either by the lungs, kidneys, or bowels.

When all these organs are strong and healthy, they can bear this increased
labor without injury. But if the lungs are weak, the blood sent from the skin
by the chill engorges the weak blood-vessels, and produces an inflammation
of the lungs. Or it increases the discharge of a slimy mucous substance, that
exudes from the skin of the lungs. This fills up the air-vessels, and would
very soon end life, were it not for the spasms of the lungs, called coughing,
which throw off this substance.

If, on the other hand, the bowels are weak, a chill of the skin sends the
blood into all the blood-vessels of the intestines, and produces inflammation
there, or else an excessive secretion of the mucous substance, which is
called a diarrhea. Or if the kidneys are weak, there is an increased secretion
and discharge from them, to an unhealthy and injurious extent.

This connection between the skin and internal organs is shown, not only
by the internal effects of a chill on the skin; but by the sympathetic effect on
the skin when these internal organs suffer. For example, there are some
kinds of food that will irritate and influence the stomach or the bowels; and
this, by sympathy, will produce an immediate eruption on the skin. Some
persons, on eating strawberries, will immediately be affected with a nettle-
rash. Others can not eat certain shell-fish without being affected in this way.
Many humors on the face are caused by a diseased state of the internal
organs with which the skin sympathizes.

This short account of the construction of the skin, and of its intimate
connection with the internal organs, shows the philosophy of those modes
of medical treatment that are addressed to this portion of the body.

It is on this powerful agency that the steam-doctors rely, when, by
moisture and heat, they stimulate all the innumerable perspiration-tubes and
lymphatics to force out from the body a flood of unnaturally excited
secretions; while it is "kill or cure," just as the chance may meet or oppose
the demands of the case. It is the skin also that is the chief basis of medical
treatment in the Water Cure, whose slow processes are as much safer as
they are slower.

At the same time it is the ill-treatment or neglect of the skin which,
probably, is the cause of disease and decay to an incredible extent. The
various particulars in which this may be seen will now be pointed out. In

the management and care of this wonderful and complex part of the body,
many mistakes have been made.

The most common one is the misuse of the bath, especially since cold
water cures have come into use. This mode of medical treatment originated
with an ignorant peasant, amid a population where outdoor labor had
strengthened nerves and muscles and imparted rugged powers to every part
of the body. It was then introduced into England and America without due
consideration or knowledge of the diseases habits, or real condition of
patients, especially of women. The consequence was a mode of treatment
too severe and exhausting; and many practices were spread abroad not
warranted by true medical science.

But in spite of these mistakes and abuses, the treatment of the skin for
disease by the use of cold water has become an accepted doctrine of the
most learned medical practitioners. It is now held by all such that fevers can
be detected in their distinctive features by the thermometer, and that all
fevers can be reduced by cold baths and packing in the wet sheet, in the
mode employed in all water-cures. Directions for using this method will be
given in another place.

It has been supposed that large bath-tubs for immersing the whole person
are indispensable to the proper cleaning of the skin. This is not so. A wet
towel, applied every morning to the skin, followed by friction in pure air, is
all that is absolutely needed; although a full bath is a great luxury. Access of
air to every part of the skin when its perspiratory tubes are cleared and its
blood-vessels are filled by friction is the best ordinary bath.

In early life, children should be washed all over, every night or morning,
to remove impurities from the skin. But in this process, careful regard
should be paid to the peculiar constitution of a child. Very nervous children
sometimes revolt from cold water, and like a tepid bath. Others prefer a cold

bath; and nature should be the guide. It must be remembered that the skin is
the great organ of sensation, and in close connection with brain, spine, and
nerve-centres: so that what a strong nervous system can bear with
advantage is too powerful and exhausting for another. As age advances, or
as disease debilitates the body, great care should be taken not to overtax the
nervous system by sudden shocks, or to diminish its powers by withdrawing
animal heat to excess. Persons lacking robustness should bathe or use
friction in a warm room; and if very delicate, should expose only a portion
of the body at once to cold air.

Johnson, a celebrated writer on agricultural chemistry, tells of an
experiment by friction on the skin of pigs, whose skins are like that of the
human race. He treated six of these animals with a curry-comb seven
weeks, and left three other pigs untouched. The result was a gain of thirty-
three pounds more of weight, with the use of five bushels less of food for
those curried, than for the neglected ones. This result was owing to the fact
that all the functions of the body were more perfectly performed when, by
friction, the skin was kept free from filth and the blood in it exposed to the
air. The same will be true of the human skin. A calculation has been made
on this fact, by which it is estimated that a man, by proper care of his skin,
would save over thirty-one dollars in food yearly, which is the interest on
over five hundred dollars. If men will give as much care to their own skin,
as they give to currying a horse, they will gain both health and wealth.

XII.

CLOTHING.

There is no duty of those persons having control of a family where
principle and practice are more at variance than in regulating the dress of
young girls, especially at the most important and critical period of life. It is
a difficult duty for parents and teachers to contend with the power of
fashion, which at this time of a young girl's life is frequently the ruling
thought, and when to be out of the fashion, to be odd and not dress as all her
companions do, is a mortification and grief that no argument or instructions
can relieve. The mother is often so overborne that, in spite of her better
wishes, the daughter adopts modes of dress alike ruinous to health and to
beauty.

The greatest protection against such an emergency is to train a child to
understand the construction of her own body and to impress upon her, in
early days, her obligations to the invisible Friend and Guardian of her life,
the "Former of her body and the Father of her spirit," who has committed to
her care so precious and beautiful a casket. And the more she can be made
to realize the skill and beauty of construction shown in her earthly frame,
the more will she feel the obligation to protect it from injury and abuse.

It is a singular fact that the war of fashion has attacked most fatally what
seems to be the strongest foundation, and defense of the body, the bones.

For this reason, the construction and functions of this part of the body will
now receive attention.

The bones are composed of two substances, one animal, and the other
mineral. The animal part is a very fine network, called cellular membrane.
In this are deposited the harder mineral substances, which are composed
principally of carbonate and phosphate of lime. In very early life, the bones
consist chiefly of the animal part, and are then soft and pliant. As the child
advances in age, the bones grow harder, by the gradual deposition of the
phosphate of lime, which is supplied by the food, and carried to the bones
by the blood. In old age, the hardest material preponderates; malting the
bones more brittle than in earlier life.

The bones are covered with a thin skin or membrane, filled with small
blood-vessels which convey nourishment to them,

Where the hones unite with others to form joints, they are covered with
cartilage, which is a smooth, white, elastic substance. This enables the
joints to move smoothly, while its elasticity prevents injuries from sudden
jars.

The joints are bound together by strong, elastic bands called ligaments,
which hold them firmly and prevent dislocation.

Between the ends of the bones that unite to form joints are small sacks or
bags, that contain a soft lubricating fluid. This answers the same purpose fur
the joints as oil in making machinery work smoothly, while the supply is
constant and always in exact proportion to the demand.

If you will examine the leg of some fowl, you can see the cartilage that
covers the ends of the bones at the joints, and the strong white ligaments
that bind the joints together.

The health, of the bones depends on the proper nourishment and exercise
of the body as much as that of any other part. When a child is feeble and
unhealthy, or when it grows up without exercise, the bones do not become
firm and hard as they are when the body is healthfully developed by
exercise. The size as well as the strength of the bones, to a certain extent,
also depend upon exercise and good health.

[Illustration: Fig. 61]

The chief supporter of the body is the spine, which consists of twenty-
four small bones, interlocked or hooked into each other, while between
them are elastic cushions of cartilage which aid in preserving the upright,
natural position. Fig. 61 shows three of the spinal bones, hooked into each
other, the dark spaces showing the disks or flat circular plates of cartilage
between them.

The spine is held in its proper position, partly by the ribs, partly by
muscles, partly by aid of the elastic disks, and partly by the close packing of
the intestines in front of it.

The upper part of the spine is often thrown out of its proper position by
constant stooping of the head over books or work. This affects the elastic
disks so that they grow thick at the back side and thinner at the front side by
such constant pressure. The result is the awkward projection of the head
forward which is often seen in schools and colleges.

Another distortion of the spine is produced by tight dress around the
waist. The liver occupies the right side of the body and is a solid mass,
while on the other side is the larger part of the stomach, which is often
empty. The consequence of tight dress around the waist is a constant
pressure of the spine toward the unsupported part where the stomach lies.
Thus the elastic dials again are compressed; till they become thinner on one

side than the other, and harden into that condition. This produces what is
called the lateral curvature of the spine, making one shoulder higher than
the other.

The compression of the lower part of the waist is especially dangerous at
the time young girls first enter society and are tempted to dress according to
the fashion. Many a school-girl, whose waist was originally of a proper and
healthful size, has gradually pressed the soft bones of youth until the lower
ribs that should rise and fall with every breath, become entirely unused.
Then the abdominal breathing, performed by the lower part of the lungs,
ceases; the whole system becomes reduced in strength; the abdominal
muscles that hold up the interior organs become weak, and the upper ones
gradually sink upon the lower. This pressure of the upper interior organs
upon the lower ones, by tight dress, is increased by the weight of clothing
resting on the hips and abdomen. Corsets, as usually worn, have no support
from the shoulders, and consequently all the weight of dress resting upon or
above them presses upon the hips and abdomen, and this in such a way as to
throw out of use and thus weaken the most important supporting muscles of
the abdomen, and impede abdominal breathing.

The diaphragm is a kind of muscular floor, extending across the centre of
the body, on which the heart and lungs rest. Beneath it are the liver,
stomach, and the abdominal viscera, or intestines, which are supported by
the abdominal muscles, running upward, downward, and crosswise. When
these muscles are thrown out of use, they lose their power, the whole
system of organs mainly resting on them for support can not continue in
their naturally snug, compact, and rounded form, but become separated,
elongated, and unsupported. The stomach begins to draw from above
instead of resting on the viscera beneath. This in some cases causes dull and
wandering pains, a sense of pulling at the centre of the chest, and a drawing
downward at the pit of the stomach. Then as the support beneath is really

gone, there is what is often called "a feeling of goneness." This is
sometimes relieved by food, which, so long as it remains in a solid form,
helps to hold up the falling superstructure. This displacement of the
stomach, liver, and spleen interrupts their healthful functions, and dyspepsia
and biliary difficulties not unfrequently are the result.

As the stomach and its appendages fall downward, the diaphragm, which
holds up the heart and lungs, must descend also. In this state of things, the
inflation of the lungs is less and less aided by the abdominal muscles, and is
confined chiefly to their upper portion. Breathing sometimes thus becomes
quicker and shorter on account of the elongated or debilitated condition of
the assisting organs. Consumption not unfrequently results from this cause.

The heart also feels the evil. "Palpitations," "flutterings," "sinking
feelings," all show that, in the language of Scripture, "the heart trembleth,
and is moved out of its place."

But the lower intestines are the greatest sufferers from this dreadful abuse
of nature. Having the weight of all the unsupported organs above pressing
them into unnatural and distorted positions, the passage of the food is
interrupted, and inflammations, indurations, and constipation, are the
frequent result. Dreadful ulcers and cancers may be traced in some
instances to this cause.

Although these internal displacements are most common among women,
some foolish members of the other sex are adopting customs of dress, in
girding the central portion of the body, that tend to similar results.

But this distortion brings upon woman peculiar distresses. The pressure
of the whole superincumbent mass on the pelvic or lower organs induces
sufferings proportioned in acuteness to the extreme delicacy and
sensitiveness of the parts thus crushed. And the intimate connection of these

organs with the brain and whole nervous system renders injuries thus
inflicted the causes of the most extreme anguish, both of body and mind.
This evil is becoming so common, not only among married women, but
among young girls, as to be a just cause for universal alarm.

How very common these sufferings are, few but the medical profession
can realize, because they are troubles that must be concealed. Many a
woman is moving about in uncomplaining agony who, with any other
trouble involving equal suffering, would be on her bed surrounded by
sympathizing friends.

The terrible sufferings that are sometimes thus induced can never be
conceived of, or at all appreciated from, any use of language. Nothing that
the public can be made to believe on this subject will ever equal the reality.
Not only mature persons and mothers, but fair young girls sometimes, are
shut up for months and years as helpless and suffering invalids from this
cause. This may be found all over the land. And there frequently is a
horrible extremity of suffering in certain forms of this evil, which no
woman of feeble constitution can ever be certain may not be her doom. Not
that in all cases this extremity is involved, but none can say who will escape
it.

In regard to this, if one must choose for a friend or a child, on the one
hand, the horrible torments inflicted by savage Indians or cruel inquisitors
on their victims, or, on the other, the protracted agonies that result from
such deformities and displacements, sometimes the former would be a
merciful exchange.

And yet this is the fate that is coming to meet the young as well as the
mature in every direction. And tender parents are unconsciously leading
their lovely and hapless daughters to this awful doom.

There is no excitement of the imagination in what is here indicated. If the
facts and details could be presented, they would send a groan of terror all
over the land. For it is not one class, or one section, that is endangered. In
every part of our country the evil is progressing.

And, as if these dreadful ills were not enough, there have been added
methods of medical treatment at once useless, torturing to the mind, and
involving great liability to immoralities.

[Illustration: Fig. 62.]

In hope of abating these evils, drawings are given (Fig. 62 and Fig. 63) of
the front and back of a jacket that will preserve the advantages of the corset
without its evils. This jacket may at first be fitted to the figure with corsets
underneath it, just like the waist of a dress. Then, delicate whalebones can
be used to stiffen the jacket, so that it will take the proper shape, when the
corset may be dispensed with. The buttons below are to hold all articles of
dress below the waist by button-holes. By this method, the bust is supported
as well as by corsets, while the shoulders support from above, as they
should do, the weight of the dress below. No stiff bone should be allowed to
press in front, and the jacket should be so loose that a full breath can be
inspired with ease, while in a sitting position.

[Illustration: Fig. 63.]

The proper way to dress a young girl is to have a cotton or flannel close-
fitting jacket next the body, to which the drawers should be buttoned. Over
this, place the chemise; and over that, such a jacket as the one here drawn,
to which should be buttoned the hoops and other skirts. Thus every article
of dress will be supported by the shoulders. The sleeves of the jacket can be
omitted, and in that ease a strong lining, and also a tape binding, must
surround the arm-hole, which should be loose.

It is hoped that increase of intelligence and moral power among mothers,
and a combination among them to regulate fashions, may banish the
pernicious practices that have prevailed. If a school-girl dress without
corsets and without tight belts could be established as a fashion, it would be
one step gained in the right direction. Then if mothers could secure daily
domestic exercise in chambers, eating-rooms and parlors in loose dresses, a
still farther advance would be secured.

A friend of the writer informs her that her daughter had her wedding
outfit made up by a fashionable milliner in Paris, and every dress was
beautifully fitted to the form, and yet was not compressing to any part. This
was done too without the use of corsets, the stiffening being delicate and
yielding whalebones.

Not only parents but all having the care of young girls, especially those at
boarding-schools, have a fearful responsibility resting upon them in regard
to this important duty.

In regard to the dressing of young children, much discretion is needed to
adapt dress to circumstances and peculiar constitutions. The leading fact
must be borne in mind that the skin is made strong and healthful by
exposure to light and pure air, while cold air, if not excessive, has a tonic
influence. If the skin of infants is rubbed with the hand till red with blood,
and then exposed naked to sun and air in a well-ventilated room, it will be
favorable to health.

There is a constitutional difference in the skin of different children in
regard to retaining the animal heat manufactured within, so that some need
more clothing than others for comfort. Nature is a safe guide to a careful
nurse and mother, and will indicate by the looks and actions of a child when
more clothing is needful. As a general rule, it is safe for a healthful child to
wear as little clothing as suffices to keep it from complaining of cold. Fifty

years ago, it was not common for children to wear as much under-clothing
as they now do. The writer well remembers how even girls, though not of
strong constitutions, used to play for hours in the snow-drifts without the
protection of drawers, kept warm by exercise and occasional runs to an
open fire. And multitudes of children grew to vigorous maturity through
similar exposures to cold air-baths, and without the frequent, colds and
sicknesses so common among children of the present day, who are more
carefully housed and warmly dressed. But care was taken that the feet
should be kept dry and warmly clad, because, circulation being feebler in
the extremities, this precaution was important.

It must also be considered that age brings with it decrease in vigor of
circulation, and the consequent generation of heat, so that more warmth of
air and clothing is needed at an advanced period of life than is suitable for
the young.

These are the general principles which must be applied with modification
to each individual case. A child of delicate constitution must have more
careful protection from cold air than is desirable for one more vigorous,
while the leading general principle is retained that cold air is a healthful
tonic for the skin whenever it does not produce an uncomfortable chilliness.

XIII.

GOOD COOKING.

There are but a few things on which health, and happiness depend more
than on the manner in which food is cooked. You may make houses
enchantingly beautiful, hang them with pictures, have them clean and airy
and convenient; but if the stomach is fed with sour bread and burnt meats, it
will raise such rebellions that the eyes will see no beauty anywhere. The
abundance of splendid material we have in America is in great contrast with
the style of cooking most prevalent in our country. How often, in journeys,
do we sit down to tables loaded with material, originally of the very best
kind, winch has been so spoiled in the treatment that there is really nothing
to eat! Green biscuits with acrid spots of alkali; sour yeast-bread; meat
slowly simmered in fat till it seemed like grease itself, and slowly
congealing in cold grease; and above all, that unpardonable enormity,
strong butter! How one longs to show people what might have been done
with the raw material out of which all these monstrosities were concocted!

There is no country where an ample, well-furnished table is more easily
spread, and for that reason, perhaps, none where the bounties of Providence
are more generally neglected. Considering that our resources are greater
than those of any other civilized people, our results are comparatively
poorer.

It is said that a list of the summer vegetables which are exhibited on
New-York hotel-tables being shown to a French artiste, he declared that to
serve such a dinner properly would take till midnight. A traveler can not but
be struck with our national plenteousness, on returning from a Continental
tour, and going directly from the ship to a New-York hotel, in the bounteous
season of autumn. For months habituated to neat little bits of chop or
poultry, garnished with the inevitable cauliflower or potato, which seemed
to be the sole possibility after the reign of green peas was over; to sit down
all at once to such a carnival! to such ripe, juicy tomatoes, raw or cooked;
cucumbers in brittle slices; rich, yellow sweet-potatoes; broad lima-beans,
and beans of other and various names; tempting ears of Indian-corn
steaming in enormous piles; great smoking tureens of the savory succotash,
an Indian gift to the table for which civilization need not blush; sliced egg-
plant in delicate fritters; and marrow- squashes, of creamy pulp and
sweetness; a rich variety, embarrassing to the appetite, and perplexing to the
choice.

Verily, the thought must often occur that the vegetarian doctrine preached
in America leaves a man quite as much as he has capacity to eat or enjoy,
and that in the midst of such tantalizing abundance he has really lost the
apology, which elsewhere bears him out in preying upon his less gifted and
accomplished animal neighbors.

But with all this, the American table, taken as a whole, is inferior to that
of England or France. It presents a fine abundance of material, carelessly
and poorly treated. The management of food is nowhere in the world,
perhaps, more slovenly and wasteful. Every thing betokens that want of
care that waits on abundance; there are great capabilities and poor
execution. A tourist through England can seldom fail, at the quietest
country-inn, of finding himself served with the essentials of English table-
comfort—his mutton-chop done to a turn, his steaming little private

apparatus for concocting his own tea, his choice pot of marmalade or slice
of cold ham, and his delicate rolls and creamy butter, all served with care
and neatness. In France, one never asks in vain for delicious cafe-au-lait,
good bread and butter, a nice omelet, or some savory little portion of meat
with a French name. But to a tourist taking like chance in American
country-fare, what is the prospect? What is the coffee? what the tea? and the
meat? and above all, the butter?

In writing on cooking, the main topics should be first, bread; second,
butter; third, meat; fourth, vegetables; and fifth, tea—by which last is
meant, generally, all sorts of warm, comfortable drinks served out in tea-
cups, whether they be called tea, coffee, chocolate, broma, or what not.

If these five departments are all perfect, the great ends of domestic
cookery are answered, so far as the comfort and well-being of life are
concerned. There exists another department, which is often regarded by
culinary amateurs and young aspirants as the higher branch and very
collegiate course of practical cookery; to wit, confectionery, by which is
designated all pleasing and complicated compounds of sweets and spices,
devised not for health and nourishment, and strongly suspected of
interfering with both—mere tolerated gratifications of the palate, which we
eat, not with the expectation of being benefited, but only with the hope of
not being injured by them. In this large department rank all sorts of cakes,
pies, preserves, etc., whose excellence is often attained by treading under
foot and disregarding the five grand essentials.

There is many a table garnished with three or four kinds of well-made
cake, compounded with citron and spices and all imaginable good things,
where the meat was tough and greasy, the bread some hot preparation of
flour, lard, saleratus, and acid, and the butter unutterably detestable, where,
if the mistress of the feast had given the care, time, and labor to preparing

the simple items of bread, butter, and meat, that she evidently had given to
the preparation of these extras, the lot of her guests and family might be
much more comfortable. But she does not think of these common articles as
constituting a good table. So long as she has puff pastry, rich black cake,
clear jelly and preserves, she considers that such unimportant matters as
bread, butter, and meat may take care of themselves. It is the same
inattention to common things as that which leads people to build houses
with stone fronts, and window-caps and expensive front-door trimmings,
without bathing-rooms or fireplaces, or ventilators.

Those who go into the country looking for summer board in farm-houses
know perfectly well that a table where the butter is always fresh, the tea and
coffee of the best kinds and well made, and the meats properly kept,
dressed, and served, is the one table of a hundred, the fabulous enchanted
island. It seems impossible to get the idea into the minds of many people
that what is called common food, carefully prepared, becomes, in virtue of
that very care and attention, a delicacy, superseding the necessity of
artificially compounded dainties. To begin, then, with the very foundation
of a good table:

—Bread: What ought it to be?

It should be light, sweet, and tender. This matter of lightness is the
distinctive line between savage and civilized bread. The savage mixes
simple flour and water into balls of paste, which he throws into boiling
water, and which come out solid, glutinous masses, of which his common
saying is, "Man eat dis, he no die," which a facetious traveler who was
obliged to subsist on it interpreted to mean, "Dis no kill you, nothing will."
In short, it requires the stomach of a wild animal or of a savage to digest
this primitive form of bread, and of course more or less attention in all
civilized modes of bread-making is given to producing lightness. By

lightness is meant simply that in order to facilitate digestion the particles
are to be separated from each other by little holes or air-cells; and all the
different methods of making light bread are neither more nor less than the
formation of bread with these air-cells.

So far as we know, there are four practicable methods of aerating bread;
namely, by fermentation; by effervescence of an acid and an alkali; by
aerated egg, or egg which has been filled with air by the process of beating;
and lastly, by pressure of some gaseous substance into the paste, by a
process much resembling the impregnation of water in a soda-fountain. All
those have one and the same object—to give us the cooked particles of our
flour separated by such permanent air-cells as will enable the stomach more
readily to digest them.

A very common mode of aerating bread in America is by the
effervescence of an acid and an alkali in the flour. The carbonic acid gas
time formed products minute air-cells in the bread, or, as the cook says,
makes it light. When this process is performed with exact attention to
chemical laws, so that the acid and alkali completely neutralize each other,
leaving no overplus of either, the result is often very palatable. The
difficulty is, that this is a happy conjunction of circumstances which seldom
occurs. The acid most commonly employed is that of sour milk, and, as
milk has many degrees of sourness, the rule of a certain quantity of alkali to
the pint must necessarily produce very different results at different times.
As an actual fact where this mode of making bread prevails, as we lament to
say it does to a great extent in this country, one finds five cases of failure to
one of success.

It is a woeful thing that the daughters of our land have abandoned the old
respectable mode of yeast-brewing and bread-raising for this specious
substitute, so easily made, and so seldom well made. The green, clammy,

acrid substance, called biscuit, which many of our worthy republicans are
obliged to eat in these days, is wholly unworthy of the men and women of
the republic. Good patriots ought not to be put off in that way—they
deserve better fare.

As an occasional variety, as a household convenience for obtaining bread
or biscuit at a moment's notice, the process of effervescence may be
retained; but, we earnestly entreat American housekeepers, in scriptural
language, to stand in the way and ask for the old paths, and return to the
good yeast-bread of their sainted grandmothers.

If acid and alkali must be used, by all means let them be mixed in due
proportions. No cook should be left to guess and judge for herself about this
matter. There are articles made by chemical rule which produce very perfect
results, and the use of them obviates the worst dangers in making bread by
effervescence.

Of all processes of aeration in bread-making, the oldest and most time-
honored mode is by fermentation. That this was known in the days of our
Saviour is evident from the forcible simile in which he compares the silent
permeating force of truth in human, society to the very familiar household
process of raising bread by a little yeast.

There is, however, one species of yeast, much used in some parts of the
country, against which protest should be made. It is called salt-risings, or
milk-risings, and is made by mixing flour, milk, and a little salt together,
and leaving them to ferment. The bread thus produced is often, very
attractive, when new and made with great care. It is white and delicate, with
fine, even air-cells. It has, however, when kept, some characteristics which
remind us of the terms in which our old English Bible describes the effect
of keeping the manna of the ancient Israelites, which we are informed, in
words more explicit than agreeable, "stank, and bred worms." If salt-rising

bread does not fulfill the whole of this unpleasant description, it certainly
does emphatically a part of it. The smell which it has in baking, and when
more than a day old, suggests the inquiry, whether it is the saccharine or the
putrid fermentation with which it is raised. Whoever breaks a piece of it
after a day or two, will often see minute filaments or clammy strings
drawing out from the fragments, which, with the unmistakable smell, will
cause him to pause before consummating a nearer acquaintance.

The fermentation of flour by means of brewer's or distiller's yeast
produces, if rightly managed, results far more palatable and wholesome.
The only requisites for success in it are, first, good materials, and, second,
great care in small things. There are certain low-priced or damaged kinds of
flour which can never by any kind of domestic chemistry be made into good
broad; and to those persons whose stomachs forbid them to eat gummy,
glutinous paste, under the name of bread, there is no economy in buying
these poor brands, even at half the price of good flour.

But good flour and good yeast being supposed, with a temperature
favorable to the development of fermentation, the whole success of the
process depends on the thorough diffusion of the proper proportion of yeast
through the whole mass, and on stopping the subsequent fermentation at the
precise and fortunate point. The true housewife makes her bread the
sovereign of her kitchen—its behests must be attended to in all critical
points and moments, no matter what else be postponed.

She who attends to her bread only when she has done this, and arranged
that, and performed the other, very often finds that the forces of nature will
not wait for her. The snowy mass, perfectly mixed, kneaded with care and
strength, rises in its beautiful perfection till the moment comes for filling
the air-cells by baking. A few minutes now, and the acetous fermentation
will begin, and the whole result be spoiled. Many bread-makers pass in

utter carelessness over this sacred and mysterious boundary. Their oven has
cake in it, or they are skimming jelly, or attending to some other of the so-
called higher branches of cookery, while the bread is quickly passing into
the acetous stage. At last, when they are ready to attend to it, they find that
it has been going its own way,—it is so sour that the pungent smell is
plainly perceptible. Now the saleratus-bottle is handed down, and a quantity
of the dissolved alkali mixed with the paste—an expedient sometimes
making itself too manifest by greenish streaks or small acrid spots in the
bread. As the result, we have a beautiful article spoiled—bread without
sweetness, if not absolutely sour.

In the view of many, lightness is the only property required in this article.
The delicate refined sweetness which exists in carefully kneaded bread,
baked just before it passes to the extreme point of fermentation, is
something, of which they have no conception; and thus they will even
regard this process of spoiling the paste by the acetous fermentation, and
then rectifying that acid by effervescence with an alkali, as something
positively meritorious. How else can they value and relish bakers' loaves,
such as some are, drugged with ammonia and other disagreeable things;
light indeed, so light that they seem to have neither weight nor substance,
but with no more sweetness or taste than so much cotton wool?

Some persons prepare bread for the oven by simply mixing it in the mass,
without kneading, pouring it into pans, and suffering it to rise there. The air-
cells in bread thus prepared are coarse and uneven; the bread is as inferior
in delicacy and nicety to that which is well kneaded as a raw servant to a
perfectly educated and refined lady. The process of kneading seems to
impart an evenness to the minute air-cells, a fineness of texture, and a
tenderness and pliability to the whole substance, that can be gained in no
other way.

The divine principle of beauty has its reign over bread as well as over all
other things; it has its laws of aesthetics; and that bread which is so
prepared that it can be formed into separate and well-proportioned loaves,
each one carefully worked and moulded, will develop the most beautiful
results. After being moulded, the loaves should stand usually not over ten
minutes, just long enough to allow the fermentation going on in them to
expand each little air-cell to the point at which it stood before it was worked
down, and then they should be immediately put into the oven.

Many a good thing, however, is spoiled in the oven. We can not but
regret, for the sake of bread, that our old steady brick ovens have been
almost universally superseded by those of ranges and cooking-stoves,
which are infinite in their caprices, and forbid all general rules. One thing,
however, may be borne in mind as a principle—that the excellence of bread
in all its varieties, plain or sweetened, depends on the perfection of its air-
cells, whether produced by yeast, egg, or effervescence; that one of the
objects of baking is to fix these air-cells, and that the quicker this can be
done through the whole mass, the better will the result be. When cake or
bread is made heavy by baking too quickly, it is because the immediate
formation of the top crust hinders the exhaling of the moisture in the centre,
and prevents the air-cells from cooking. The weight also of the crust
pressing down on the doughy air-cells below destroys them, producing that
horror of good cooks, a heavy streak. The problem in baking, then, is the
quick application of heat rather below than above the loaf, and its steady
continuance till all the air-cells are thoroughly dried into permanent
consistency. Every housewife must watch her own oven to know how this
can be best accomplished.

Bread-making can be cultivated to any extent as a fine art—and the
various kinds of biscuit, tea-rusks, twists, rolls, into which bread may be
made, are much better worth a housekeeper's ambition than the getting-up

of rich and expensive cake or confections. There are also varieties of
material which are rich in good effects. Unbolted flour, altogether more
wholesome than the fine wheat, and when properly prepared more palatable
—rye-flour and corn-meal, each affording a thousand attractive possibilities
—all of these come under the general laws of bread-stuffs, and are worth a
careful attention.

A peculiarity of our American table, particularly in the Southern and
Western States, is the constant exhibition of various preparations of hot
bread. In many families of the South and West, bread in loaves to be eaten
cold is an article quite unknown. The effect of this kind of diet upon the
health has formed a frequent subject of remark among travelers; but only
those know the full mischiefs of it who have been compelled to sojourn for
a length of time in families where it is maintained. The unknown horrors of
dyspepsia from bad bread are a topic over which we willingly draw a veil.

Next to Bread comes Butter—on which we have to say, that, when we
remember what butter is in civilized Europe, and compare it with what it is
in America, we wonder at the forbearance and lenity of travelers in their
strictures on our national commissariat.

Butter, in England, France, and Italy, is simply solidified cream, with all
the sweetness of the cream in its taste, freshly churned each day, and
unadulterated by salt. At the present moment, when salt is five cents a
pound and butter fifty, we Americans are paying, at high prices, for about
one pound of salt to every ten of butter, and those of us who have eaten the
butter of France and England do this with rueful recollections.

There is, it is true, an article of butter made in the American style with
salt, which, in its own kind and way, has a merit not inferior to that of
England and France. Many prefer it, and it certainly takes a rank equally
respectable with the other. It is yellow, hard, and worked so perfectly free

from every particle of buttermilk that it might make the voyage of the world
without spoiling. It is salted, but salted with care and delicacy, so that it
may be a question whether even a fastidious Englishman might not prefer
its golden solidity to the white, creamy freshness of his own. But it is to be
regretted that this article is the exception, and not the rule, on our tables.

America must have the credit of manufacturing and putting into market
more bad butter than all that is made in all the rest of the world together.
The varieties of bad tastes and smells which prevail in it are quite a study.
This has a cheesy taste, that a mouldy, this is flavored with cabbage, and
that again with turnip, and another has the strong, sharp savor of rancid
animal fat. These varieties probably come from the practice of churning
only at long intervals, and keeping the cream meanwhile in unventilated
cellars or dairies, the air of which is loaded with the effluvia of vegetable
substances. No domestic articles are so sympathetic as those of the milk
tribe: they readily take on the smell and taste of any neighboring substance,
and hence the infinite variety of flavors on which one mournfully muses
who has late in autumn to taste twenty firkins of butter in hopes of finding
one which will simply not be intolerable on his winter table.

A matter for despair as regards bad butter is, that at the tables where it is
used it stands sentinel at the door to bar your way to every other kind of
food. You turn from your dreadful half-slice of bread, which fills your
mouth with bitterness, to-your beef-steak, which proves virulent with the
same poison; you think to take refuge in vegetable diet, and find the butter
in the string-beans, and polluting the innocence of early peas; it is in the
corn, hi the succotash, in the squash; the beets swim in it, the onions have it
poured over them. Hungry and miserable, you think to solace yourself at the
dessert; but the pastry is cursed, the cake is acrid with the same plague. You
are ready to howl with despair, and your misery is great upon you—
especially if this is a table where you have taken board for three months

with your delicate wife and four small children. Your case is dreadful, and it
is hopeless, because long usage and habit have rendered your host perfectly
incapable of discovering what is the matter. "Don't like the butter, sir? I
assure you I paid an extra price for it, and it's the very best in the market. I
looked over as many as a hundred tubs, and picked out this one." You are
dumb, but not less despairing.

Yet the process of making good butter is a very simple one. To keep the
cream in a perfectly pure, cool atmosphere, to churn while it is yet sweet, to
work out the buttermilk thoroughly, and to add salt with such discretion as
not to ruin the fine, delicate flavor of the fresh cream—all this is quite
simple, so simple that one wonders at thousands and millions of pounds of
butter yearly manufactured which are merely a hobgoblin bewitchment of
cream into foul and loathsome poisons.

The third head of my discourse is that of Meat, of which America
furnishes, in the gross material, enough to spread our tables royally, were it
well cared for and served.

The faults in the meat generally furnished to us are, first, that it is too
new. A beef steak, which three or four days of keeping might render
palatable, is served up to us palpitating with freshness, with all the
toughness of animal muscle yet warm.

In the next place, there is a woeful lack of nicety in the butcher's work of
cutting and preparing meat. Who that remembers the neatly trimmed
mutton-chop of an English inn, or the artistic little circle of lamb-chop fried
in bread-crumbs coiled around a tempting centre of spinach which may
always be found in France, can recognize any family resemblance to those
dapper, civilized preparations, in these coarse, roughly-hacked strips of
bone, gristle, and meat which are commonly called mutton-chop in
America? There seems to be a large dish of something resembling meat, in

which each fragment has about two or three edible morsels, the rest being
composed of dry and burnt skin, fat, and ragged bone.

Is it not time that civilization should learn to demand somewhat more
care and nicety in the modes of preparing what is to be cooked and eaten?
Might not some of the refinement and trimness which characterize the
preparations of the European market be with advantage introduced into our
own? The housekeeper who wishes to garnish her table with some of those
nice things is stopped in the outset by the butcher. Except in our large cities,
where some foreign travel may have created the demand, it seems
impossible to get much in this line that is properly prepared.

If this is urged on the score of aesthetics, the ready reply will be, "Oh! we
can't give time here in America to go into niceties and French whim-
whams!" But the French mode of doing almost all practical things is based
on that true philosophy and utilitarian good sense which characterize that
seemingly thoughtless people. Nowhere is economy a more careful study,
and their market is artistically arranged to this end. The rule is so to cut
their meats that no portion designed to be cooked in a certain manner shall
have wasteful appendages which that mode of cooking will spoil. The
French soup-kettle stands ever ready to receive the bones, the thin fibrous
flaps, the sinewy and gristly portions, which are so often included in our
roasts or broilings, which fill our plates with unsightly debris, and finally
make an amount of blank waste for which we pay our butcher the same
price that we pay for what we have eaten.

The dead waste of our clumsy, coarse way of cutting meats is immense.
For example, at the beginning of the season, the part of a lamb denominated
leg and loin, or hind-quarter, may sell for thirty cents a pound. Now this
includes, besides the thick, fleshy portions, a quantity of bone, sinew, and
thin fibrous substance, constituting full one third of the whole weight. If we

put it into the oven entire, in the usual manner, we have the thin parts over-
done, and the skinny and fibrous parts utterly dried up, by the application of
the amount of heat necessary to cook the thick portion. Supposing the joint
to weigh six pounds, at thirty cents, and that one third of the weight is so
treated as to become perfectly useless, we throw away sixty cents. Of a
piece of beef at twenty-five cents a pound, fifty cents' worth is often lost in
bone, fat, and burnt skin.

The fact is, this way of selling and cooking meat in large, gross portions
is of English origin, and belongs to a country where all the customs of
society spring from a class who have no particular occasion for economy.
The practice of minute and delicate division comes from a nation which
acknowledges the need of economy, and has made it a study. A quarter of
lamb in this mode of division would be sold in three nicely prepared
portions. The thick part would be sold by itself, for a neat, compact little
roast; the rib-bones would be artistically separated, and all the edible matter
would form those delicate dishes of lamb-chop, which, fried in bread-
crumbs to a golden brown, are so ornamental and palatable a side-dish; the
trimmings which remain after this division would be destined to the soup-
kettle or stew-pan.

In a French market is a little portion for every purse, and the far-famed
and delicately flavored soups and stews which have arisen out of French
economy are a study worth a housekeeper's attention. Not one atom of food
is wasted in the French modes of preparation; even tough animal cartilages
and sinews, instead of appearing burned and blackened in company with the
roast meat to which they happen to be related, are treated according to their
own laws, and come out either in savory soups, or those fine, clear meat-
jellies which form a garnish no less agreeable to the eye than palatable to
the taste.

Whether this careful, economical, practical style of meat-cooking can
ever to any great extent be introduced into our kitchens now is a question.
Our butchers are against it; our servants are wedded to the old wholesale
wasteful ways, which seem to them easier because they are accustomed to
them. A cook who will keep and properly tend a soup-kettle which shall
receive and utilize all that the coarse preparations of the butcher would
require her to trim away, who understands the art of making the most of all
these remains, is a treasure scarcely to be hoped for. If such things are to be
done, it must be primarily through the educated brain of cultivated women
who do not scorn to turn their culture and refinement upon domestic
problems.

When meats have been properly divided, so that each portion can receive
its own appropriate style of treatment, next comes the consideration of the
modes of cooking. These may be divided into two great general classes:
those where it is desired to keep the juices within the meat, as in baking,
broiling, and frying—and those whose object is to extract the juice and
dissolve the fibre, as in the making of soups and stews. In the first class of
operations, the process must be as rapid as may consist with the thorough
cooking of all the particles. In this branch of cookery, doing quickly is
doing well. The fire must be brisk, the attention alert. The introduction of
cooking-stoves offers to careless domestics facilities for gradually drying-
up meats, and despoiling them of all flavor and nutriment—facilities which
appear to be very generally accepted. They have almost banished the
genuine, old-fashioned roast-meat from our tables, and left in its stead dried
meats with their most precious and nutritive juices evaporated. How few
cooks, unassisted, are competent to the simple process of broiling a
beefsteak or mutton-chop! how very generally one has to choose between
these meats gradually dried away, or burned on the outside and raw within!
Yet in England these articles never come on the table done amiss; their
perfect cooking is as absolute a certainty as the rising of the sun.

No one of these rapid processes of cooking, however, is so generally
abused as frying. The frying-pan has awful sins to answer for. What untold
horrors of dyspepsia have arisen from its smoky depths, like the ghost from
witches' caldrons! The fizzle of frying meat is a warning knell on many an
ear, saying, "Touch not, taste not, if you would not burn and writhe!"

Yet those who have traveled abroad remember that some of the lightest,
most palatable, and most digestible preparations of meat have come from
this dangerous source. But we fancy quite other rites and ceremonies
inaugurated the process, and quite other hands performed its offices, than
those known to our kitchens. Probably the delicate cotelettes of France are
not flopped down into half-melted grease, there gradually to warm and soak
and fizzle, while Biddy goes in and out on her other ministrations, till
finally, when they are thoroughly saturated, and dinner-hour impends, she
bethinks herself, and crowds the fire below to a roaring heat, and finishes
the process by a smart burn, involving the kitchen and surrounding
precincts in volumes of Stygian gloom. From such preparations has arisen
the very current medical opinion that fried meats are indigestible. They are
indigestible, if they are greasy; but French cooks have taught us that a thing
has no more need to be greasy because emerging from grease than Venus
had to be salt because she rose from the sea.

There are two ways of frying employed by the French cook. One is, to
immerse the article to be cooked in boiling fat, with an emphasis on the
present participle—and the philosophical principle is, so immediately to
crisp every pore, at the first moment or two of immersion, as effectually to
seal the interior against the intrusion of greasy particles; it can then remain
as long as may be necessary thoroughly to cook it, without imbibing any
more of the boiling fluid than if it were inclosed in an egg-shell. The other
method is to rub a perfectly smooth iron surface with just enough of some
oily substance to prevent the meat from adhering, and cook it with a quick

heat, as cakes are baked, on a griddle. In both these cases there must be the
most rapid application of heat that can be made without burning, and by the
adroitness shown in working out this problem the skill of the cook is tested.
Any one whose cook attains this important secret will find fried things quite
as digestible, and often more palatable, than any other.

In the second department of meat-cookery, to wit, the slow and gradual
application of heat for the softening and dissolution of its fibre and the
extraction of its juices, common cooks are equally untrained. Where is the
so-called cook who understands how to prepare soups and stews? These are
precisely the articles in which a French kitchen excels. The soup-kettle,
made with a double bottom, to prevent burning, is a permanent, ever-
present institution, and the coarsest and most impracticable meats distilled
through that alembic come out again in soups, jellies, or savory stews. The
toughest cartilage, even the bones, being first cracked, are here made to
give forth their hidden virtues, and to rise in delicate and appetizing forms.

One great law governs all these preparations: the application of heat must
be gradual, steady, long protracted, never reaching the point of active
boiling. Hours of quiet simmering dissolve all dissoluble parts, soften the
sternest fibre, and unlock every minute cell in which Nature has stored
away her treasures of nourishment. This careful and protracted application
of heat and the skillful use of flavors constitute the two main points in all
those nice preparations of meat for which the French have so many names
—processes by which a delicacy can be imparted to the coarsest and
cheapest food superior to that of the finest articles under less philosophic
treatment.

French soups and stews are a study, and they would not be an
unprofitable one to any person who wishes to live with comfort and even
elegance on small means.

There is no animal fibre that will not yield itself up to long- continued,
steady heat. But the difficulty with almost any of the common servants who
call themselves cooks is, that they have not the smallest notion of the
philosophy of the application of heat. Such a one will complacently tell you
concerning certain meats, that the harder you boil them the harder they
grow—an obvious fact which, under her mode of treatment by an
indiscriminate galloping boil, has frequently come under her personal
observation. If you tell her that such meat must stand for six hours in a heat
just below the boiling point, she will probably answer, "Yes, ma'am," and
go on her own way. Or she will let it stand till it burns to the bottom of the
kettle—a most common termination of the experiment.

The only way to make sure of the matter is, either to obtain a French
kettle, or to fit into an ordinary kettle a false bottom, such as any tinman
may make, that shall leave a space of an inch or two between the meat and
the fire. This kettle may be maintained in a constant position on the range,
and into it the cook maybe instructed to throw all the fibrous trimmings of
meat, all the gristle, tendons, and bones, having previously broken up these
last with a mallet. Such a kettle, the regular occupant of a French cooking-
stove, which they call the pot au feu, will furnish the basis for clear, rich
soups, or other palatable dishes. This is ordinarily called "stock."

Clear soup consists of the dissolved juices of the meat and gelatine of the
bones, cleared from the fat and fibrous portions by straining. The grease,
which rises to the top of the fluid, may be easily removed when cold.

English and American soups are often heavy and hot with spices. There
are appreciable tastes in them. They burn your mouth with cayenne, or
clove, or allspice. You can tell at once what is in them, oftentimes to your
sorrow. But a French soup has a flavor which one recognizes at once as
delicious, yet not to be characterized as due to any single condiment; it is

the just blending of many things. The same remark applies to all their stews;
ragouts, and other delicate preparations. No cook will ever study these
flavors; but perhaps many cooks' mistresses may, and thus, be able to
impart delicacy and comfort to economy.

As to those things called hashes, commonly manufactured by unwatched,
untaught cooks out of the remains of yesterday's meal, let us not dwell too
closely on their memory—compounds of meat, gristle, skin, fat, and burnt
fibre, with a handful of pepper and salt flung at them, dredged with lumpy
flour, watered from the spout of the tea-kettle, and left to simmer at the
cook's convenience while she is otherwise occupied. Such are the best
performances a housekeeper can hope for from an untrained cook.

But the cunningly devised minces, the artful preparations choicely
flavored, which may be made of yesterday's repast—by these is the true
domestic artist known. No cook untaught by an educated brain ever makes
these, and yet economy is a great gainer by them.

As regards the department of Vegetables, their number and variety in
America are so great that a table might almost be furnished by these alone.
Generally speaking, their cooking is a more simple art, and therefore more
likely to be found satisfactorily performed, than that of meats. If only they
are not drenched with rancid butter, their own native excellence makes itself
known in most of the ordinary modes of preparation.

There is, however, one exception. Our staunch old friend, the potato, is to
other vegetables what bread is on the table. Like bread, it is held as a sort of
sine-qua-non; like that, it may be made invariably palatable by a little care
in a few plain particulars, through neglect of which it often becomes
intolerable. The soggy, waxy, indigestible viand that often appears in the
potato-dish is a downright sacrifice of the better nature of this vegetable.

The potato, nutritive and harmless as it appears, belongs to a family
suspected of very dangerous traits. It is a family connection of the deadly-
nightshade and other ill-reputed gentry, and sometimes shows strange
proclivities to evil—now breaking out uproariously, as in the noted potato-
rot, and now more covertly, in various evil affections. For this reason
scientific directors bid us beware of the water in which potatoes are boiled-
into which, it appears, the evil principle is drawn off; and they caution us
not to shred them into stews without previously suffering the slices to lie for
an hour or so in salt and water. These cautions are worth attention.

The most usual modes of preparing the potato for the table are by
roasting or boiling. These processes are so simple that it is commonly
supposed every cook understands them without special directions; and yet
there is scarcely an uninstructed cook who can boil or roast a potato.

A good roasted potato is a delicacy worth a dozen compositions of the
cook-book; yet when we ask for it, what burnt, shriveled abortions are
presented to us! Biddy rushes to her potato-basket and pours out two dozen
of different sizes, some having in them three times the amount of matter of
others. These being washed, she tumbles them into her oven at a leisure
interval, and there lets them lie till it is time to serve breakfast, whenever
that may be. As a result, if the largest are cooked, the smallest are presented
in cinders, and the intermediate sizes are withered and watery. Nothing is so
utterly ruined by a few moments of overdoing. That which at the right
moment was plump with mealy richness, a quarter of an hour later shrivels
and becomes watery— and it is in this state that roast potatoes are most
frequently served.

In the same manner we have seen boiled potatoes from an untaught cook
coming upon the table like lumps of yellow wax—and the same article,
under the directions of a skillful mistress, appearing in snowy balls of

powdery whiteness. In the one case, they were thrown in their skins into
water, and suffered to soak or boil, as the case might be, at the cook's
leisure, and after they were boiled to stand in the water till she was ready to
peel them. In the other case, the potatoes being first peeled were boiled as
quickly as possible in salted water, which the moment they were done was
drained off, and then they were gently shaken for a moment or two over the
fire to dry them still more thoroughly. We have never yet seen the potato so
depraved and given over to evil that it could not be reclaimed by this mode
of treatment.

As to fried potatoes, who that remembers the crisp, golden slices of the
French restaurant, thin as wafers and light as snow-flakes, does not speak
respectfully of them? What cousinship with these have those coarse, greasy
masses of sliced potato, wholly soggy and partly burnt, to which we are
treated under the name of fried potatoes in America? In our cities the
restaurants are introducing the French article to great acceptance, and to the
vindication of the fair fame of this queen of vegetables.

Finally, we arrive at the last great head of our subject, to wit— Tea—
meaning thereby, as before observed, what our Hibernian friend did in the
inquiry, "Will y'r honor take 'tay tay' or coffee tay?"

We are not about to enter into the merits of the great tea-and-coffee
controversy, further than in our general caution concerning them in the
chapter on Healthful Drinks; but we now proceed to treat of them as actual
existences, and speak only of the modes of making the best of them. The
French coffee is reputed the best in the world; and a thousand voices have
asked, What is it about the French coffee?

In the first place, then, the French coffee is coffee, and not chickory, or
rye, or beans, or peas. In the second place, it is freshly roasted, whenever
made—roasted with great care and evenness in a little revolving cylinder

which makes part of the furniture of every kitchen, and which keeps in the
aroma of the berry. It is never overdone, so as to destroy the coffee-flavor,
which is in nine cases out of tent the fault of the coffee we meet with. Then
it is ground, and placed in a coffee-pot with a filter through which, when it
has yielded up its life to the boiling water poured upon it, the delicious
extract percolates in clear drops, the coffee-pot standing on a heated stove
to maintain the temperature. The nose of the coffee-pot is stopped up to
prevent the escape of the aroma during this process. The extract thus
obtained is a perfectly clear, dark fluid, known as caf noir, or black coffee.
It is black only because of its strength, being in fact almost the very
essential oil of coffee. A table-spoonful of this in boiled milk would make
what is ordinarily called a strong cup of coffee. The boiled milk is prepared
with no less care. It must be fresh and new, not merely warmed or even
brought to the boiling-point, but slowly simmered till it attains a thick,
creamy richness. The coffee mixed with this, and sweetened with that
sparkling beet-root sugar which ornaments a French table, is the celebrated
cafe-au-lait, the name of which has gone round the world.

As we look to France for the best coffee, so we must look to England for
the perfection of tea. The tea-kettle is as much an English institution as
aristocracy or the Prayer-Book; and when one wants to know exactly how
tea should he made, one has only to ask how a fine old English house-
keeper makes it.

The first article of her faith is, that the water must not merely be hot, not
merely have boiled a few moments since, but be actually boiling at the
moment it touches the tea. Hence, though servants in England are vastly
better trained than with us, this delicate mystery is seldom left to their
hands. Tea-making belongs to the drawing-room, and high-born ladies
preside at "the bubbling and loud hissing urn," and see that all due rites and

solemnities are properly performed—that the cups are hot, and that the
infused tea waits the exact time before the libations commence.

Of late, the introduction of English breakfast-tea has raised a new sect
among the tea-drinkers, reversing some of the old canons. Breakfast-tea
must be boiled! Unlike the delicate article of olden time, which required
only a momentary infusion to develop its richness, this requires a longer
and severer treatment to bring out its strength—thus confusing all the
established usages, and throwing the work into the hands of the cook in the
kitchen. The faults of tea, as too commonly found at our hotels and
boarding-houses, are, that it is made in every way the reverse of what it
should be. The water is hot, perhaps, but not boiling; the tea has a general
flat, stale, smoky taste, devoid of life or spirit; and it is served usually with
thin milk, instead of cream. Cream is an essential to the richness of tea as of
coffee. Lacking cream, boiled milk is better than cold.

Chocolate is a French and Spanish article, and one seldom served on
American tables. We in America, however, make an article every way equal
to any which can be imported from Paris, and he who buys the best vanilla-
chocolate may rest assured that no foreign land can furnish any thing better.
A very rich and delicious beverage may be made by dissolving this in milk,
slowly boiled down after the French fashion.

A word now under the head of Confectionery, meaning by this the whole
range of ornamental cookery—or pastry, ices, jellies, preserves, etc. The art
of making all these very perfectly is far better understood in America than
the art of common cooking. There are more women who know how to make
good cake than good bread—more who can furnish you with a good ice-
cream than a well-cooked mutton-chop; a fair charlotte-russe is easier to
gain than a perfect cup of coffee; and you shall find a sparkling jelly to your

dessert where you sighed in vain for so simple a luxury as a well-cooked
potato.

Our fair countrywomen might rest upon their laurels in these higher
fields, and turn their great energy and ingenuity to the study of essentials.
To do common things perfectly is far better worth our endeavor than to do
uncommon things respectably. We Americans in many things as yet have
been a little inclined to begin making our shirt at the ruffle; but,
nevertheless, when we set about it, we can make the shirt as nicely as any
body; it needs only that we turn our attention to it, resolved that, ruffle or no
ruffle, the shirt we will have.

A few words as to the prevalent ideas in respect to French cookery.
Having heard much of it, with no very distinct idea of what it is, our people
have somehow fallen into the notion that its forte lies in high spicing—and
so when our cooks put a great abundance of clove, mace, nutmeg, and
cinnamon into their preparations, they fancy that they are growing up to be
French cooks. But the fact is, that the Americans and English are far more
given to spicing than the French. Spices in our made dishes are abundant,
and their taste is strongly pronounced. Living a year in France one forgets
the taste of nutmeg, clove, and allspice, which abounds in so many dishes in
America. The English and Americans deal in spices, the French in flavors—
flavors many and flue, imitating often in their delicacy those subtle
blendings which nature produces in high-flavored fruits. The recipes of our
cookery-books are most of them of English origin, coming down from the
times of our phlegmatic ancestors, when the solid, burly, beefy growth of
the foggy island required the heat of fiery condiments, and could digest
heavy sweets. Witness the national recipe for plum-pudding: which may be
rendered: Take a pound of every indigestible substance you can think of,
boil into a cannon-ball, and serve in flaming brandy. So of the Christmas
mince-pie, and many other national dishes. But in America, owing to our

brighter skies and more fervid climate, we have developed an acute,
nervous delicacy of temperament far more akin to that of France than of
England.

Half of the recipes in our cook-books are mere murder to such
constitutions and stomachs as we grow here. We require to ponder these
things, and think how we, in our climate and under our circumstances,
ought to live; and in doing so, we may, without accusation of foreign
foppery, take some leaves from many foreign books.

XIV.

EARLY RISING

There is no practice which has been more extensively eulogized in all
ages than early rising; and this universal impression is an indication that it
is founded on true philosophy. For it is rarely the case that the common
sense of mankind fastens on a practice as really beneficial, especially one
that demands self-denial, without some substantial reason.

This practice, which may justly be called a domestic virtue, is one which
has a peculiar claim to be styled American and democratic. The distinctive
mark of aristocratic nations is a disregard of the great mass, and a
disproportionate regard for the interests of certain privileged orders. All the
customs and habits of such a nation are, to a greater or less extent, regulated
by this principle. Now the mass of any nation must always consist of
persons who labor at occupations which demand the light of day. But in
aristocratic countries, especially in England, labor is regarded as the mark
of the lower classes, and indolence is considered as one mark of a
gentleman. This impression has gradually and imperceptibly, to a great
extent, regulated their customs, so that, even in their hours of meals and
repose, the higher orders aim at being different and distinct from those who,
by laborious pursuits, are placed below them. From this circumstance, while

the lower orders labor by day and sleep at night, the rich, the noble, and the
honored sleep by day, and follow their pursuits and pleasures by night.

It will be found that the aristocracy of London breakfast near midday,
dine after dark, visit and go to Parliament between ten and twelve at night,
and retire to sleep toward morning. In consequence of this, the subordinate
classes who aim at gentility gradually fall into the same practice. The
influence of this custom extends across the ocean, and here, in this
democratic land, we find many who measure their grade of gentility by the
late hour at which they arrive at a party. And this aristocratic folly is
growing upon us, so that, throughout the nation, the hours for visiting and
retiring are constantly becoming later, while the hours for rising correspond
in lateness.

The question, then, is one which appeals to American women, as a matter
of patriotism and as having a bearing on those great principles of
democracy which we conceive to be equally the principles of Christianity.
Shall we form our customs on the assumption that labor is degrading and
indolence genteel? Shall we assume, by our practice, that the interests of the
great mass are to be sacrificed for the pleasures and honors of a privileged
few? Shall we ape the customs of aristocratic lands, in those very practices
which result from principles and institutions that we condemn? Shall we not
rather take the place to which we are entitled, as the leaders, rather than the
followers, in the customs of society, turn back the tide of aristocratic
inroads, and carry through the whole, not only of civil and political but of
social and domestic life, the true principles of democratic freedom and
equality? The following considerations may serve to strengthen an
affirmative decision.

The first relates to the health of a family. It is a universal law of
physiology, that all living things flourish best in the light. Vegetables, in a

dark cellar, grow pale and spindling. Children brought up in mines are
always wan and stunted, while men become pale and cadaverous who live
under ground. This indicates the folly of losing the genial influence which
the light of day produces on all animated creation.

Sir James Wylie, of the Russian imperial service, states that in the
soldiers' barracks, three times as many were taken sick on the shaded side
as on the sunny side; though both sides communicated, and discipline, diet,
and treatment were the same. The eminent French surgeon, Dupuytren,
cured a lady whose complicated diseases baffled for years his own and all
other medical skill, by taking her from a dark room to an abundance of
daylight.

Florence Nightingale writes: "Second only to fresh air in importance for
the sick is light. Not only daylight but direct sunlight is necessary to speedy
recovery, except in a small number of cases. Instances, almost endless,
could be given where, in dark wards, or wards with only northern exposure,
or wards with borrowed light, even when properly ventilated, the sick could
not be, by any means, made speedily to recover."

In the prevalence of cholera, it was invariably the case that deaths were
more numerous in shaded streets or in houses having only northern
exposures than in those having sunlight. Several physicians have stated to
the writer that, in sunny exposures, women after childbirth gained strength
much faster than those excluded from sunlight. In the writer's experience,
great nervous debility has been always immediately lessened by sitting in
the sun, and still more by lying on the earth and in open air, a blanket
beneath, and head and eyes protected, under the direct rays of the sun.

Some facts in physiology and natural philosophy have a bearing on this
subject. It seems to be settled that the red color of blood is owing to iron
contained in the red blood-cells, while it is established as a fact that the

sun's rays are metallic, having "vapor of iron" as one element. It is also true
that want of light causes a diminution of the red and an increase of the
imperfect white blood-cells, and that this sometimes results in a disease
called leucoemia, while all who live in the dark have pale and waxy skins,
and flabby, weak muscles. Thus it would seem that it is the sun that imparts
the iron and color to the blood. These things being so, the customs of
society that bring sleeping hours into daylight, and working and study hours
into the night, are direct violations of the laws of health. The laws of health
are the laws of God, and "sin is the transgression of law."

To this we must add the great neglect of economy as well as health in
substituting unhealthful gaslight, poisonous, anthracite warmth, for the life-
giving light and warmth of the sun. Millions and millions would be saved to
this nation in fuel and light, as well as in health, by returning to the good
old ways of our forefathers, to rise with the sun, and retire to rest "when the
bell rings for nine o'clock."

The observations of medical men, whose inquiries have been directed to
this point, have decided that from six to eight hours is the amount of sleep
demanded by persons in health. Some constitutions require as much as
eight, and others no more than six hours of repose. But eight hours is the
maximum for all persons in ordinary health, with ordinary occupations. In
cases of extra physical exertions, or the debility of disease, or a decayed
constitution, more than this is required. Let eight hours, then, be regarded as
the ordinary period required for sleep by an industrious people like the
Americans.

It thus appears that the laws of our political condition, the laws ofthe
natural world, and the constitution of our bodies, alike demand that we rise
with the light of day to prosecute our employments, and that we retire in
time for the requisite amount of sleep.

In regard to the effects of protracting the time spent in repose, many
extensive and satisfactory investigations have been made. It has been shown
that, during sleep, the body perspires most freely, while yet neither food nor
exercise are ministering to its wants. Of course, if we continue our slumbers
beyond the time required to restore the body to its usual vigor, there is an
unperceived undermining of the constitution, by this protracted and
debilitating exhalation. This process, in a course of years, readers the body
delicate and less able to withstand disease, and in the result shortens life. Sir
John Sinclair, who has written a large work on the Causes of Longevity,
states, as one result of his extensive investigations, that he has never yet
heard or read of a single case of great longevity where the individual was
not an early riser. He says that he has found cases in which the individual
has violated some one of all the other laws of health, and yet lived to great
age; but never a single instance in which any constitution has withstood that
undermining consequent on protracting the hours of repose beyond the
demands of the system.

Another reason for early rising is, that it is indispensable to a systematic
and well-regulated family. At whatever hour the parents retire, children and
domestics, wearied by play or labor, must retire early. Children usually
awake with the dawn of light, and commence their play, while domestics
usually prefer the freshness of morning for their labors. If, then, the parents
rise at a late hour, they either induce a habit of protracting sleep in their
children and domestics, or else the family are up, and at their pursuits,
while their supervisors are in bed.

Any woman who asserts that her children and domestics, in the first
hours of day, when their spirits are freshest, will be as well regulated
without her presence as with it, confesses that which surely is little for her
credit. It is believed that any candid woman, whatever may be her excuse
for late rising, will concede that if she could rise early it would be for the

advantage of her family. A late breakfast puts back the work, through the
whole day, for every member of a family; and if the parents thus occasion
the loss of an hour or two to each individual who, but for their delay in the
morning, would be usefully employed, they alone are responsible for all this
waste of time.

But the practice of early rising has a relation to the general interests of
the social community, as well as to that of each distinct family. All that
great portion of the community who are employed in business and labor
find it needful to rise early; and all their hours of meals, and their
appointments for business or pleasure, must be accommodated to these
arrangements. Now, if a small portion of the community establish very
different hours, it makes a kind of jostling in all the concerns and interests
of society. The various appointments for the public, such as meetings,
schools, and business hours, must be accommodated to the mass, and not to
individuals. The few, then, who establish domestic habits at variance with
the majority, are either constantly interrupted in their own arrangements, or
else are interfering with the rights and interests of others. This is
exemplified in the case of schools. In families where late rising is practiced,
either hurry, irregularity, and neglect are engendered in the family, or else
the interests of the school, and thus of the community, are sacrificed. In this,
and many other matters, it can be shown that the well-being of the bulk of
the people is, to a greater or less extent, impaired by this self-indulgent
practice. Let any teacher select the unpunctual scholars—a class who most
seriously interfere with the interests of the school—and let men of business
select those who cause them most waste of time and vexation, by
unpunctuality; and it will be found that they are generally among the late
risers, and rarely among those who rise early. Thus, late rising not only
injures the person and family which indulge in it, but interferes with the
rights and convenience of the community; while early rising imparts
corresponding benefits of health, promptitude, vigor of action, economy of

time, and general effectiveness both to the individuals who practice it and to
the families and community of which they are a part.

CHAPTER XV.

DOMESTIC MANNERS.

Good manners are the expressions of benevolence in personal
intercourse, by which we endeavor to promote the comfort and enjoyment
of others, and to avoid all that gives needless uneasiness. It is the exterior
exhibition of the divine precept, which requires us to do to others as we
would that they should do to us. It is saying, by our deportment, to all
around, that we consider their feelings, tastes, and conveniences, as equal in
value to our own.

Good manners lead us to avoid all practices which offend the taste of
others; all unnecessary violations of the conventional rules of propriety; all
rude and disrespectful language and deportment; and all remarks which
would tend to wound the feelings of others.

There is a serious defect in the manners of the American people,
especially among the descendants of the Puritan settlers of New England,
which can never be efficiently remedied, except in the domestic circle, and
during early life. It is a deficiency in the free expression of kindly feelings
and sympathetic emotions, and a want of courtesy in deportment. The
causes which have led to this result may easily be traced.

The forefathers of this nation, to a wide extent, were men who were
driven from their native land by laws and customs which they believed to
be opposed both to civil and religious freedom. The sufferings they were
called to endure, the subduing of those gentler feelings which bind us to
country, kindred, and home; and the constant subordination of the passions
to stern principle, induced characters of great firmness and self-control.
They gave up the comforts and refinements of a civilized country, and came
as pilgrims to a hard soil, a cold clime, and a heathen shore. They were
continually forced to encounter danger, privations, sickness, loneliness, and
death; and all these their religion taught them to meet with calmness,
fortitude, and submission. And thus it became the custom and habit of the
whole mass, to repress rather than to encourage the expression of feeling.

Persons who are called to constant and protracted suffering and privation
are forced to subdue and conceal emotion; for the free expression of it
would double their own suffering, and increase the sufferings of others.
Those, only, who are free from care and anxiety, and whose minds are
mainly occupied by cheerful emotions, are at full liberty to unveil their
feelings.

It was under such stern and rigorous discipline that the first children in
New England were reared; and the manners and habits of parents are
usually, to a great extent, transmitted to children. Thus it comes to pass, that
the descendants of the Puritans, now scattered over every part of the nation,
are predisposed to conceal the gentler emotions, while their manners are
calm, decided, and cold, rather than free and impulsive. Of course, there are
very many exceptions to these predominating characteristics.

Other causes to which we may attribute a general want of courtesy in
manners are certain incidental results of our domestic institutions. Our
ancestors and their descendants have constantly been combating the

aristocratic principle which would exalt one class of men at the expense of
another. They have had to contend with this principle, not only in civil but
in social life. Almost every American, in his own person as well as in behalf
of his class, has had to assume and defend the main principle of democracy
—that every man's feelings and interests are equal in value to those of every
other man. But, in doing this, there has been some want of clear
discrimination. Because claims based on distinctions of mere birth, fortune,
or position, were found to be injurious, many have gone to the extreme of
inferring that all distinctions, involving subordinations, are useless. Such
would wrongfully regard children as equals to parents, pupils to teachers,
domestics to their employers, and subjects to magistrates—and that, too, in
all respects.

The fact that certain grades of superiority and subordination are needful,
both for individual and public benefit, has not been clearly discerned; and
there has been a gradual tendency to an extreme of the opposite view which
has sensibly affected our manners. All the proprieties and courtesies which
depend on the recognition of the relative duties of superior and subordinate
have been warred upon; and thus we see, to an increasing extent,
disrespectful treatment of parents, by children; of teachers, by pupils; of
employers, by domestics; and of the aged, by the young. In all classes and
circles, there is a gradual decay in courtesy of address.

In cases, too, where kindness is rendered, it is often accompanied with a
cold, unsympathizing manner, which greatly lessens its value; while
kindness or politeness is received in a similar style of coolness, as if it were
but the payment of a just due.

It is owing to these causes that the American people, especially the
descendants of the Puritans, do not do themselves justice. For, while those
who are near enough to learn their real character and feelings can discern

the most generous impulses, and the most kindly sympathies, they are often
so veiled behind a composed and indifferent demeanor, as to be almost
entirely concealed from strangers.

These defects in our national manners it especially falls to the care of
mothers, and all who have charge of the young, to rectify; and if they
seriously undertake the matter, and wisely adapt means to ends, these
defects will be remedied. With reference to this object, the following ideas
are suggested.

The law of Christianity and of democracy, which teaches that all men are
born equal in rights, and that their interests and feelings should be regarded
as of equal value, seems to be adopted in aristocratic circles, with exclusive
reference to the class in which the individual moves. The courtly gentleman
addresses all of his own class with politeness and respect; and in all his
actions, seems to allow that the feelings and convenience of these others are
to be regarded the same as his own. But his demeanor to those of inferior
station is not based on the same rule.

Among those who make up aristocratic circles, such as are above them
are deemed of superior, and such as are below of inferior, value. Thus, if a
young, ignorant, and vicious coxcomb happens to have been born a lord, the
aged, the virtuous, the learned, and the well-bred of another class must give
his convenience the precedence, and must address him in terms of respect.
So sometimes, when a man of "noble birth" is thrown among the lower
classes, he demeans himself in a style which, to persons of his own class,
would be deemed the height of assumption and rudeness.

Now, the principles of democracy require that the same courtesy which
we accord to our own circle shall be extended to every class and condition;
and that distinctions of superiority and subordination shall depend, not on
accidents of birth, fortune, or occupation, but solely on those mutual

relations which the good of all classes equally require. The distinctions
demanded in a democratic state are simply those which result from relations
that are common to every class, and are for the benefit of all.

It is for the benefit of every class that children be subordinate to parents,
pupils to teachers, the employed to their employers, and subjects to
magistrates. In addition to this, it is for the general well-being that the
comfort or convenience of the delicate and feeble should be preferred to
that of the strong and healthy, who would suffer less by any deprivation;
that precedence should be given to their elders by the young; and that
reverence should be given to the hoary head.

The rules of good-breeding, in a democratic state, must be founded on
these principles. It is indeed assumed that the value of the happiness of each
individual is the same as that of every other; but as there must be occasions
where there are advantages which all can not enjoy, there must be general
rules for regulating a selection. Otherwise, there would be constant
scrambling among those of equal claims, and brute force must be the final
resort; in which case, the strongest would have the best of every thing. The
democratic rule, then, is, that superiors in age, station, or office have
precedence of subordinates; age and feebleness, of youth and strength; and
the feebler sex, of more vigorous man. [Footnote: The universal practice of
this nation, in thus giving precedence to woman has been severely
commented on by foreigners, and by some who would transfer all the
business of the other sex to women, and then have them treated like men.
But we hope this evidence of our superior civilization and Christianity may
increase rather than diminish.]

There is, also, a style of deportment and address which is appropriate to
these different relations. It is suitable for a superior to secure compliance
with his wishes from those subordinate to him by commands; but a

subordinate must secure compliance with his wishes from a superior by
requests. (Although the kind and considerate manner to subordinates will
always be found the most effective as well as the pleasantest, by those in
superior station.) It is suitable for a parent, teacher, or employer to
admonish for neglect of duty; but not for an inferior to adopt such a course
toward a superior. It is suitable for a superior to take precedence of a
subordinate, without any remark; but not for an inferior, without previously
asking leave, or offering an apology. It is proper for a superior to use
language and manners of freedom and familiarity, which would be improper
from a subordinate to a superior.

The want of due regard to these proprieties occasions a great defect in
American manners. It is very common to hear children talk to their parents
in a style proper only between companions and equals; so, also, the young
address their elders; those employed, their employers; and domestics, the
members of the family and their visitors, in a style which is inappropriate to
their relative positions. But courteous address is required not merely toward
superiors; every person desires to be thus treated, and therefore the law of
benevolence demands such demeanor toward all whom we meet in the
social intercourse of life. "Be ye courteous," is the direction of the apostle
in reference to our treatment of all.

Good manners can be successfully cultivated only in early life and in the
domestic circle. There is nothing which depends so much upon habit as the
constantly recurring proprieties of good breeding; and if a child grows up
without forming such habits, it is very rarely the case that they can be
formed at a later period. The feeling that it is of little consequence how we
behave at home if we conduct ourselves properly abroad, is a very
fallacious one. Persons who are careless and ill-bred at home may imagine
that they can assume good manners abroad; but they mistake. Fixed habits
of tone, manner, language, and movements can not be suddenly altered; and

those who are ill-bred at home, even when they try to hide their bad habits,
are sure to violate many of the obvious rules of propriety, and yet be
unconscious of it.

And there is nothing which would so effectually remove prejudice
against our democratic institutions as the general cultivation of good-
breeding in the domestic circle. Good manners are the exterior of
benevolence, the minute and constant exhibitions of "peace and good-will;"
and the nation, as well as the individual, which most excels in the external
demonstration, as well as the internal principle, will be most respected and
beloved.

It is only the training of the family state according to its true end and aim
that is to secure to woman her true position and rights. When the family is
instituted by marriage, it is man who is the head and chief magistrate by the
force of his physical power and requirement of the chief responsibility; not
less is he so according to the Christian law, by which, when differences
arise, the husband has the deciding control, and the wife is to obey. "Where
love is, there is no law;" but where love is not, the only dignified and
peaceful course is for the wife, however much his superior, to "submit, as to
God and not to man."

But this power of nature and of religion, given to man as the controlling
head, involves the distinctive duty of the family state, self-sacrificing love.
The husband is to "honor" the wife, to love her as himself, and thus account
her wishes and happiness as of equal value with his own. But more than
this, he is to love her "as Christ loved the Church;" that is, he is to "suffer"
for her, if need be, in order to support and elevate and ennoble her. The
father then is to set the example of self-sacrificing love and devotion; and
the mother, of Christian obedience when it is required. Every boy is to be
trained for his future domestic position by labor and sacrifices for his

mother and sisters. It is the brother who is to do the hardest and most
disagreeable work, to face the storms and perform the most laborious
drudgeries. In the family circle, too, he is to give his mother and sister
precedence in all the conveniences and comforts of home life.

It is only those nations where the teachings and example of Christ have
had most influence that man has ever assumed his obligations of self-
sacrificing benevolence in the family. And even in Christian communities,
the duty of wives to obey their husbands has been more strenuously urged
than the obligations of the husband to love his wife "as Christ loved the
Church."

Here it is needful to notice that the distinctive duty of obedience to man
does not rest on women who do not enter the relations of married life. A
woman who inherits property, or who earns her own livelihood, can
institute the family state, adopt orphan children and employ suitable helpers
in training them; and then to her will appertain the authority and rights that
belong to man as the head of a family. And when every woman is trained to
some self-supporting business, she will not be tempted to enter the family
state as a subordinate, except by that love for which there is no need of law.

These general principles being stated, some details in regard to domestic
manners will be enumerated. In the first place, there should be required in
the family a strict attention to the rules of precedence, and those modes of
address appropriate to the various relations to be sustained. Children should
always be required to offer their superiors, in age or station, the precedence
in all comforts and conveniences, and always address them in a respectful
tone and manner. The custom of adding, "Sir," or "Ma'am," to "Yes," or
"No," is valuable, as a perpetual indication of a respectful recognition of
superiority. It is now going out of fashion, even among the most well bred
people; probably from a want of consideration of its importance. Every

remnant of courtesy of address, in our customs, should be carefully
cherished, by all who feel a value for the proprieties of good breeding.

If parents allow their children to talk to them, and to the grown persons in
the family, in the same style in which they address each other, it will be in
vain to hope for the courtesy of manner and tone which good breeding
demands in the general intercourse of society. In a large family, where the
elder children are grown up, and the younger are small, it is important to
require the latter to treat the elder in some sense as superiors. There are
none so ready as young children to assume airs of equality; and if they are
allowed to treat one class of superiors in age and character disrespectfully,
they will soon use the privilege universally. This is the reason, why the
youngest children of a family are most apt to be pert, forward, and
unmannerly.

Another point to be aimed at is, to require children always to
acknowledge every act of kindness and attention, either by words or
manner. If they are so trained as always to make grateful acknowledgments,
when receiving favors, one of the objectionable features in American
manners will be avoided.

Again, children should be required to ask leave, whenever they wish to
gratify curiosity, or use an article which belongs to another. And if cases
occur, when they can not comply with the rules of good-breeding, as, for
instance, when they must step between a person and the fire, or take the
chair of an older person, they should be taught either to ask leave, or to
offer an apology.

There is another point of good-breeding, which can not, in all cases, be
understood and applied by children in its widest extent. It is that which
requires us to avoid all remarks which tend to embarrass, vex, mortify, or in
any way wound the feelings of another. To notice personal defects; to allude

to others' faults, or the faults of their friends; to speak disparagingly of the
sect or party to which a person belongs; to be inattentive when addressed in
conversation; to contradict flatly; to speak in contemptuous tones of
opinions expressed by another; all these are violations of the rules of good-
breeding, which children should be taught to regard. Under this head comes
the practice of whispering and staring about, when a teacher, or lecturer, or
clergyman is addressing a class or audience. Such inattention is practically
saying that what the person is uttering is not worth attending to; and persons
of real good-breeding always avoid it. Loud talking and laughing in a large
assembly, even when no exercises are going on; yawning and gaping in
company; and not looking in the face a person who is addressing you, are
deemed marks of ill-breeding.

Another branch of good manners relates to the duties of hospitality.
Politeness requires us to welcome visitors with cordiality; to offer them the
best accommodations; to address conversation to them; and to express, by
tone and manner, kindness and respect. Offering the hand to all visitors at
one's own house is a courteous and hospitable custom; and a cordial shake
of the hand, when friends meet, would abate much of the coldness of
manner ascribed to Americans.

Another point of good breeding refers to the conventional rules of
propriety and good taste. Of these, the first class relates to the avoidance of
all disgusting or offensive personal habits: such as fingering the hair;
obtrusively using a toothpick, or carrying one in the mouth after the needful
use of it; cleaning the nails in presence of others; picking the nose; spitting
on carpets; snuffing instead of using a handkerchief, or using the article in
an offensive manner; lifting up the boots or shoes, as some men do, to tend
them on the knee, or to finger them: all these tricks, either at home or in
society, children should be taught to avoid.

Another topic, under this head, may be called table manners. To persons
of good-breeding, nothing is more annoying than violations of the
conventional proprieties of the table. Reaching over another person's plate;
standing up, to reach distant articles, instead of asking to have them passed;
using one's own knife and spoon for butter, salt, or sugar, when it is the
custom of the family to provide separate utensils for the purpose; setting
cups with the tea dripping from them, on the table-cloth, instead of the mats
or small plates furnished; using the table-cloth instead of the napkins; eating
fast, and in a noisy manner; putting large pieces in the mouth; looking and
eating as if very hungry, or as if anxious to get at certain dishes; sitting at
too great a distance from the table, and dropping food; laying the knife and
fork on the table-cloth, instead of on the edge of the plate; picking the teeth
at table: all these particulars children should be taught to avoid.

It is always desirable, too, to train children, when at table with grown
persons, to be silent, except when addressed by others; or else their
chattering will interrupt the conversation and comfort of their elders. They
should always be required, too, to wait in silence, till all the older persons
are helped.

When children are alone with their parents, it is desirable to lead them to
converse and to take this as an opportunity to form proper conversational
habits. But it should be a fixed rule that, when strangers are present, the
children are to listen in silence and only reply when addressed. Unless this
is secured, visitors will often be condemned to listen to puerile chattering,
with small chance of the proper attention due to guests and superiors in age
and station.

Children should be trained, in preparing themselves for the table or for
appearance among the family, not only to put their hair, face, and hands in

neat order, but also their nails, and to habitually attend to this latter
whenever they wash their hands.

There are some very disagreeable tricks which many children practice
even in families counted well-bred. Such, for example, are drumming with
the fingers on some piece of furniture, or humming a tune while others are
talking, or interrupting conversation by pertinacious questions, or whistling
in the house instead of out-doors, or speaking several at once and in loud
voices to gain attention. All these are violations of good-breeding, which
children should be trained to avoid, lest they should not only annoy as
children, but practice the same kind of ill manners when mature. In all
assemblies for public debate, a chairman or moderator is appointed whose
business it is to see that only one person speaks at a time, that no one
interrupts a person when speaking, that no needless noises are made, and
that all indecorums are avoided. Such an officer is sometimes greatly
needed in family circles.

Children should be encouraged freely to use lungs and limbs out-doors,
or in hours for sport in the house. But at other times, in the domestic circle,
gentle tones and manners should be cultivated. The words gentleman and
gentlewoman came originally from the fact that the uncultivated and
ignorant classes used coarse and loud tones, and rough words and
movements; while only the refined circles habitually used gentle tones and
gentle manners. For the same reason, those born in the higher circles were
called "of gentle blood." Thus it came that a coarse and loud voice, and
rough, ungentle manners, are regarded as vulgar and plebeian.

All these things should be taught to children, gradually, and with great
patience and gentleness. Some parents, with whom good manners are a
great object, are in danger of making their children perpetually
uncomfortable, by suddenly surrounding them with so many rules that they

must inevitably violate some one or other a great part of the time. It is much
better to begin with a few rules, and be steady and persevering with these,
till a habit is formed, and then take a few more, thus making the process
easy and gradual. Otherwise, the temper of children will be injured; or,
hopeless of fulfilling so many requisitions, they will become reckless and
indifferent to all.

If a few brief, well-considered, and sensible rules of good manners could
be suspended in every school-room, and the children all required to commit
them to memory, it probably would do more to remedy the defects of
American manners and to advance universal good-breeding than any other
mode that could be so easily adopted.

But, in reference to those who have enjoyed advantages for the
cultivation of good manners, and who duly estimate its importance, one
caution is necessary. Those who never have had such habits formed in
youth are under disadvantages which no benevolence of temper can
altogether remedy. They may often violate the tastes and feelings of others,
not from a want of proper regard for them, but from ignorance of custom, or
want of habit, or abstraction of mind, or from other causes which demand
forbearance and sympathy, rather than displeasure. An ability to bear
patiently with defects in manners, and to make candid and considerate
allowance for a want of advantages, or for peculiarities in mental habits, is
one mark of the benevolence of real good-breeding.

The advocates of monarchical and aristocratic institutions have always
had great plausibility given to their views, by the seeming tendencies of our
institutions to insubordination and bad manners. And it has been too
indiscriminately conceded, by the defenders of the latter, that such are these
tendencies, and that the offensive points in American manners are the
necessary result of democratic principles.

But it is believed that both facts and reasoning are in opposition to this
opinion. The following extract from the work of De Tocqueville, the great
political philosopher of France, exhibits the opinion of an impartial
observer, when comparing American manners with those of the English,
who are confessedly the most aristocratic of all people.

He previously remarks on the tendency of aristocracy to make men more
sympathizing with persons of their own peculiar class, and less so toward
those of lower degree; and he then contrasts American manners with the
English, claiming that the Americans are much the more affable, mild, and
social. "In America, where the privileges of birth never existed and where
riches confer no peculiar rights on their possessors, men acquainted with
each other are very ready to frequent the same places, and find neither peril
nor disadvantage in the free interchange of their thoughts. If they meet by
accident, they neither seek nor avoid intercourse; their manner is therefore
natural, frank, and open." "If their demeanor is often cold and serious, it is
never haughty or constrained." But an "aristocratic pride is still extremely
great among the English; and as the limits of aristocracy are still ill-defined,
every body lives in constant dread, lest advantage should be taken of his
familiarity. Unable to judge, at once, of the social position of those he
meets, an Englishman prudently avoids all contact with him. Men are
afraid, lest some slight service rendered should draw them into an
unsuitable acquaintance; they dread civilities, and they avoid the obtrusive
gratitude of a stranger, as much as his hatred."

Thus, facts seem to show that when the most aristocratic nation in the
world is compared, as to manners, with the most democratic, the judgment
of strangers is in favor of the latter. And if good manners are the outward
exhibition of the democratic principle of impartial benevolence and equal
rights, surely the nation which adopts this rule, both in social and civil life,
is the most likely to secure the desirable exterior. The aristocrat, by his

principles, extends the exterior of impartial benevolence to his own class
only; the democratic principle requires it to be extended to all.

There is reason, therefore, to hope and expect more refined and polished
manners in America than in any other land; while all the developments of
taste and refinement, such as poetry, music, painting, sculpture, and
architecture, it may be expected, will come to as high a state of perfection
here as in any other nation.

If this country increases in virtue and intelligence, as it may, there is no
end to the wealth which will pour in as the result of our resources of
climate, soil, and navigation, and the skill, industry, energy, and enterprise
of our countrymen. This wealth, if used as intelligence and virtue dictate,
will furnish the means for a superior education to all classes, and every
facility for the refinement of taste, intellect, and feeling.

Moreover, in this country, labor is ceasing to be the badge of a lower
class; so that already it is disreputable for a man to be "a lazy gentleman."
And this feeling must increase, till there is such an equalization of labor as
will afford all the time needful for every class to improve the many
advantages offered to them. Already through the munificence of some of
our citizens, there are literary and scientific advantages offered to all
classes, rarely enjoyed elsewhere. In most of our large cities and towns, the
advantages of education, now offered to the poorest classes, often without
charge, surpass what, some years ago, most wealthy men could purchase for
any price. And it is believed that a time will come when the poorest boy in
America can secure advantages, which will equal what the heir of the
proudest peerage can now command.

The records of the courts of France and Germany, (as detailed by the
Duchess of Orleans,) in and succeeding the brilliant reign of Louis the
Fourteenth—a period which was deemed the acme of elegance and

refinement—exhibit a grossness, a vulgarity, and a coarseness, not to be
found among the very lowest of our respectable poor. And the biography of
the English Beau Nash, who attempted to reform the manners of the gentry,
in the times of Queen Anne, exhibits violations of the rules of decency
among the aristocracy, which the commonest yeoman of this land would
feel disgraced in perpetrating.

This shows that our lowest classes, at this period, are more refined than
were the highest in aristocratic lands, a hundred years ago; and another
century may show the lowest classes, in wealth, in this country, attaining as
high a polish as adorns those who now are leaders of good manners in the
courts of kings.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE PRESERVATION OF GOOD TEMPER IN THE HOUSEKEEPER.

There is nothing which has a more abiding influence on the happiness of
a family than the preservation of equable and cheerful temper and tones in
the housekeeper. A woman who is habitually gentle, sympathizing,
forbearing, and cheerful, carries an atmosphere about her which imparts a
soothing and sustaining influence, and renders it easier for all to do right,
under her administration, than in any other situation.

The writer has known families where the mother's presence seemed the
sunshine of the circle around her; imparting a cheering and vivifying power,
scarcely realized till it was withdrawn. Every one, without thinking of it, or
knowing why it was so, experienced a peaceful and invigorating influence
as soon as he entered the sphere illumined by her smile, and sustained by
her cheering kindness and sympathy. On the contrary, many a good
housekeeper, (good in every respect but this,) by wearing a countenance of
anxiety and dissatisfaction, and by indulging in the frequent use of sharp
and reprehensive tones, more than destroys all the comfort which otherwise
would result from her system, neatness, and economy.

There is a secret, social sympathy which every mind, to a greater or less
degree, experiences with the feelings of those around, as they are
manifested by the countenance and voice. A sorrowful, a discontented, or an

angry countenance produces a silent, sympathetic influence, imparting a
sombre shade to the mind, while tones of anger or complaint still more
effectually jar the spirits.

No person can maintain a quiet and cheerful frame of mind while tones
of discontent and displeasure are sounding on the ear. We may gradually
accustom ourselves to the evil till it is partially diminished; but it always is
an evil which greatly interferes with the enjoyment of the family state.
There are sometimes cases where the entrance of the mistress of a family
seems to awaken a slight apprehension in every mind around, as if each felt
in danger of a reproof, for something either perpetrated or neglected. A
woman who should go around her house with a small stinging snapper,
which she habitually applied to those whom she met, would be encountered
with feelings very much like those which are experienced by the inmates of
a family where the mistress often uses her countenance and voice to inflict
similar penalties for duties neglected.

Yet there are many allowances to be made for housekeepers, who
sometimes imperceptibly and unconsciously fall into such habits. A woman
who attempts to carry out any plans of system, order, and economy, and
who has her feelings and habits conformed to certain rules, is constantly
liable to have her plans crossed, and her taste violated, by the inexperience
or inattention of those about her. And no housekeeper, whatever may be her
habits, can escape the frequent recurrence of negligence or mistake, which
interferes with her plans.

It is probable that there is no class of persons in the world who have such
incessant trials of temper, and temptations to be fretful, as American
housekeepers. For a housekeeper's business is not, like that of the other sex,
limited to a particular department, for which previous preparation is made.
It consists of ten thousand little disconnected items, which can never be so

systematically arranged that there is no daily jostling somewhere. And in
the best-regulated families, it is not unfrequently the case that some act of
forgetfulness or carelessness, from some member, will disarrange the
business of the whole day, so that every hour will bring renewed occasion
for annoyance. And the more strongly a woman realizes the value of time,
and the importance of system and order, the more will she be tempted to
irritability and complaint.

The following considerations may aid in preparing a woman to meet such
daily crosses with even a cheerful temper and tones.

In the first place, a woman who has charge of a large household should
regard her duties as dignified, important, and difficult. The mind is so made
as to be elevated and cheered by a sense of far-reaching influence and
usefulness. A woman who feels that she is a cipher, and that it makes little
difference how she performs her duties, has far less to sustain and
invigorate her, than one who truly estimates the importance of her station. A
man who feels that the destinies of a nation are turning on the judgment and
skill with which he plans and executes, has a pressure of motive and an
elevation of feeling which are great safeguards against all that is low, trivial,
and degrading.

So, an American mother and housekeeper who rightly estimates the long
train of influence which will pass down to thousands, whose destinies, from
generation to generation, will be modified by those decisions of her will
which regulate the temper, principles, and habits of her family, must be
elevated above petty temptations which would otherwise assail her.

Again, a housekeeper should feel that she really has great difficulties to
meet and overcome. A person who wrongly thinks there is little danger, can
never maintain so faithful a guard as one who rightly estimates the
temptations which beset her. Nor can one who thinks that they are trifling

difficulties which she has to encounter, and trivial temptations to which she
must yield, so much enjoy the just reward of conscious virtue and self-
control as one who takes an opposite view of the subject.

A third method is, for a woman deliberately to calculate on having her
best-arranged plans interfered with very often; and to be in such a state of
preparation that the evil will not come unawares. So complicated are the
pursuits and so diverse the habits of the various members of a family, that it
is almost impossible for every one to avoid interfering with the plans and
taste of a housekeeper, in some one point or another. It is, therefore, most
wise for a woman to keep the loins of her mind ever girt, to meet such
collisions with a cheerful and quiet spirit.

Another important rule is, to form all plans and arrangements in
consistency with the means at command, and the character of those around.
A woman who has a heedless husband, and young children, and
incompetent domestics, ought not to make such plans as one may properly
form who will not, in so many directions, meet embarrassment. She must
aim at just as much as she can probably attain, and no more; and thus she
will usually escape much temptation, and much of the irritation of
disappointment.

The fifth, and a very important consideration, is, that system, economy,
and neatness are valuable, only so far as they tend to promote the comfort
and well-being of those affected. Some women seem to act under the
impression that these advantages must be secured, at all events, even if the
comfort of the family be the sacrifice. True, it is very important that
children grow up in habits of system, neatness, and order; and it is very
desirable that the mother give them every incentive, both by precept and
example; but it is still more important that they grow up with amiable
tempers, that they learn to meet the crosses of life with patience and

cheerfulness; and nothing has a greater influence to secure this than a
mother's example. Whenever, therefore, a woman can not accomplish her
plans of neatness and order without injury to her own temper or to the
temper of others, she ought to modify and reduce them until she can.

The sixth method relates to the government of the tones of voice. In
many cases, when a woman's domestic arrangements are suddenly and
seriously crossed, it is impossible not to feel some irritation. But it is always
possible to refrain from angry tones. A woman can resolve that, whatever
happens, she will not speak till she can do it in a calm and gentle manner.
Perfect silence is a safe resort, when such control can not be attained as
enables a person to speak calmly; and this determination, persevered in, will
eventually be crowned with success.

Many persons seem to imagine that tones of anger are needful, in order to
secure prompt obedience. But observation has convinced the writer that
they are never necessary; that in all cases, reproof, administered in calm
tones, would be better. A case will be given in illustration.

A young girl had been repeatedly charged to avoid a certain arrangement
in cooking. On one day, when company was invited to dine, the direction
was forgotten, and the consequence was an accident, which disarranged
every thing, seriously injured the principal dish, and delayed dinner for an
hour. The mistress of the family entered the kitchen just as it occurred, and
at a glance, saw the extent of the mischief. For a moment, her eyes flashed,
and her cheeks glowed; but she held her peace. After a minute or so, she
gave directions in a calm voice, as to the best mode of retrieving the evil,
and then left, without a word said to the offender.

After the company left, she sent for the girl, alone, and in a calm and
kind manner pointed out the aggravations of the case, and described the
trouble which had been caused to her husband, her visitors, and herself. She

then portrayed the future evils which would result from such habits of
neglect and inattention, and the modes of attempting to overcome them; and
then offered a reward for the future, if, in a given time, she succeeded in
improving in this respect. Not a tone of anger was uttered; and yet the
severest scolding of a practiced Xantippe could not have secured such
contrition, and determination to reform, as were gained by this method.

But similar negligence is often visited by a continuous stream of
complaint and reproof, which, in most cases, is met either by sullen silence
or impertinent retort, while anger prevents any contrition or any resolution
of future amendment.

It is very certain, that some ladies do carry forward a most efficient
government, both of children and domestics, without employing tones of
anger; and therefore they are not indispensable, nor on any account
desirable.

Though some ladies of intelligence and refinement do fall unconsciously
into such a practice, it is certainly very unlady-like, and in very bad taste, to
scold; and the further a woman departs from all approach to it, the more
perfectly she sustains her character as a lady.

Another method of securing equanimity, amid the trials of domestic life
is, to cultivate a habit of making allowances for the difficulties, ignorance,
or temptations of those who violate rule or neglect duty. It is vain, and most
unreasonable, to expect the consideration and care of a mature mind in
childhood and youth; or that persons of such limited advantages as most
domestics have enjoyed should practice proper self-control and possess
proper habits and principles.

Every parent and every employer needs daily to cultivate the spirit
expressed in the divine prayer, "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive

those who trespass against us." The same allowances and forbearance which
we supplicate from our Heavenly Father, and desire from our fellow-men in
reference to our own deficiencies, we should constantly aim to extend to all
who cross our feelings and interfere with our plans.

The last and most important mode of securing a placid and cheerful
temper and tones is, by a constant belief in the influence of a superintending
Providence. All persons are too much in the habit of regarding the more
important events of life exclusively as under the control of Perfect Wisdom.
But the fall of a sparrow, or the loss of a hair, they do not feel to be equally
the result of his directing agency. In consequence of this, Christian persons
who aim at perfect and cheerful submission to heavy afflictions, and who
succeed to the edification of all about them, are sometimes sadly deficient
under petty crosses. If a beloved child be laid in the grave, even if its death
resulted from the carelessness of a domestic or of a physician, the eye is
turned from the subordinate agent to the Supreme Guardian of all; and to
him they bow, without murmur or complaint. But if a pudding be burnt, or a
room badly swept, or an errand forgotten, then vexation and complaint are
allowed, just as if these events were not appointed by Perfect Wisdom as
much as the sorer chastisement.

A woman, therefore, needs to cultivate the habitual feeling that all the
events of her nursery and kitchen are brought about by the permission of
our Heavenly Father, and that fretfulness or complaint in regard to these is,
in fact, complaining at the appointments of God, and is really as sinful as
unsubmissive murmurs amid the sorer chastisements of his hand. And a
woman who cultivates this habit of referring all the minor trials of life to
the wise and benevolent agency of a heavenly Parent, and daily seeks his
sympathy and aid to enable her to meet them with a quiet and cheerful
spirit, will soon find it the perennial spring of abiding peace and content.

The power of religion to impart dignity and importance to the ordinary
and seemingly petty details of domestic life, greatly depends upon the
degree of faith in the reality of a life to come, and of its eternal results. A
woman who is training a family simply with reference to this life may find
exalted motives as she looks forward to unborn generations whose temporal
prosperity and happiness are depending upon her fidelity and skill. But one
who truly and firmly believes that this life is but the beginning of an eternal
career to every immortal inmate of her home, and that the formation of
tastes, habits, and character, under her care, will bring forth fruits of good or
ill, not only through earthly generations, but through everlasting ages; such
a woman secures a calm and exalted principle of action, which no earthly
motives can impart.

CHAPTER XVII.

HABITS OF SYSTEM AND ORDER.

Any discussion of the equality of the sexes, as to intellectual capacity,
seems frivolous and useless, both because it can never be decided, and
because there would be no possible advantage in the decision. But one
topic, which is often drawn into this discussion, is of far more consequence;
and that is, the relative importance and difficulty of the duties a woman is
called to perform.

It is generally assumed, and almost as generally conceded, that a
housekeeper's business and cares are contracted and trivial; and that the
proper discharge of her duties demands far less expansion of mind and
vigor of intellect than the pursuits of the other sex. This idea has prevailed
because women, as a mass, have never been educated with reference to
their most important duties; while that portion of their employments which
is of least value has been regarded as the chief, if not the sole, concern of a
woman. The covering of the body, the convenience of residences, and the
gratification of the appetite, have been too much regarded as the chief
objects on which her intellectual powers are to be exercised.

But as society gradually shakes off the remnants of barbarism and the
intellectual and moral interests of man rise, in estimation, above the merely
sensual, a truer estimate is formed of woman's duties, and of the measure of

intellect requisite for the proper discharge of them. Let any man of sense
and discernment become the member of a large household, in which a well-
educated and pious woman is endeavoring systematically to discharge her
multiform duties; let him fully comprehend all her cares, difficulties, and
perplexities; and it is probable he would coincide in the opinion that no
statesman, at the head of a nation's affairs, had more frequent calls for
wisdom, firmness, tact, discrimination, prudence, and versatility of talent,
than such a woman.

She has a husband, to whose peculiar tastes and habits she must
accommodate herself; she has children whose health she must guard, whose
physical constitutions she must study and develop, whose temper and habits
she must regulate, whose principles she must form, whose pursuits she must
guide. She has constantly changing domestics, with all varieties of temper
and habits, whom she must govern, instruct, and direct; she is required to
regulate the finances of the domestic state, and constantly to adapt
expenditures to the means and to the relative claims of each department.
She has the direction of the kitchen, where ignorance, forgetfulness, and
awkwardness are to be so regulated that the various operations shall each
start at the right time, and all be in completeness at the same given hour.
She has the claims of society to meet, visits to receive and return, and the
duties of hospitality to sustain. She has the poor to relieve; benevolent
societies to aid; the schools of her children to inquire and decide about; the
care of the sick and the aged; the nursing of infancy; and the endless
miscellany of odd items, constantly recurring in a large family.

Surely, it is a pernicious and mistaken idea, that the duties which tax a
woman's mind are petty, trivial, or unworthy of the highest grade of intellect
and moral worth. Instead of allowing this feeling, every woman should
imbibe, from early youth, the impression that she is in training for the
discharge of the most important, the most difficult, and the most sacred and

interesting duties that can possibly employ the highest intellect. She ought
to feel that her station and responsibilities in the great drama of life are
second to none, either as viewed by her Maker, or in the estimation of all
minds whose judgment is most worthy of respect.

She who is the mother and housekeeper in a large family is the sovereign
of an empire, demanding more varied cares, and involving more difficult
duties, than are really exacted of her who wears a crown and professedly
regulates the interests of the greatest nation on earth.

There is no one thing more necessary to a housekeeper in performing her
varied duties, than a habit of system and order; and yet, the peculiarly
desultory nature of women's pursuits, and the embarrassments resulting
from the state of domestic service in this country, render it very difficult to
form such a habit. But it is sometimes the case that women who could and
would carry forward a systematic plan of domestic economy do not attempt
it, simply from a want of knowledge of the various modes of introducing it.
It is with reference to such, that various modes of securing system and
order, which the writer has seen adopted, will be pointed out.

A wise economy is nowhere more conspicuous, than in a systematic
apportionment of time to different pursuits. There are duties of a religious,
intellectual, social, and domestic nature, each having different relative
claims on attention. Unless a person has some general plan of apportioning
these claims, some will intrench on others, and some, it is probable, will be
entirely excluded. Thus, some find religious, social, and domestic duties so
numerous, that no time is given to intellectual improvement. Others find
either social, or benevolent, or religious interests excluded by the extent and
variety of other engagements.

It is wise, therefore, for all persons to devise a systematic plan, which
they will at least keep in view, and aim to accomplish; and by which a

proper proportion of time shall be secured for all the duties of life.

In forming such a plan, every woman must accommodate herself to the
peculiarities of her situation. If she has a large family and a small income,
she must devote far more time to the simple duty of providing food and
raiment than would be right were she in affluence, and with a small family.
It is impossible, therefore, to draw out any general plan, which all can
adopt. But there are some general principles, which ought to be the guiding
rules, when a woman arranges her domestic employments. These principles
are to be based on Christianity, which teaches us to "seek first the kingdom
of God," and to deem food, raiment, and the conveniences of life, as of
secondary account. Every woman, then, ought to start with the assumption,
that the moral and religious interests of her family are of more consequence
than any worldly concern, and that, whatever else may be sacrificed, these
shall be the leading object, in all her arrangements, in respect to time,
money, and attention.

It is also one of the plainest requisitions of Christianity, that we devote
some of our time and efforts to the comfort and improvement of others.
There is no duty so constantly enforced, both in the Old and New
Testament, as that of charity, in dispensing to those who are destitute of the
blessings we enjoy. In selecting objects of charity, the same rule applies to
others as to ourselves; their moral and religions interests are of the highest
moment, and for them, as well as for ourselves, we are to "seek first the
kingdom of God."

Another general principle is, that our intellectual and social interests are
to be preferred to the mere gratification of taste or appetite. A portion of
time, therefore, must be devoted to the cultivation of the intellect and the
social affections.

Another is, that the mere gratification of appetite is to be placed last in
our estimate; so that, when a question arises as to which shall be sacrificed,
some intellectual, moral, or social advantage, or some gratification of sense,
we should invariably sacrifice the last.

As health is indispensable to the discharge of every duty, nothing which
sacrifices that blessing is to be allowed in order to gain any other advantage
or enjoyment. There are emergencies, when it is right to risk health and life,
to save ourselves and others from greater evils; but these are exceptions,
which do not militate against the general rule. Many persons imagine that,
if they violate the laws of health, in order to attend to religious or domestic
duties, they are guiltless before God. But such greatly mistake. We directly
violate the law, "Thou shalt not kill," when we do what tends to risk or
shorten our own life. The life and happiness of all his creatures are dear to
our Creator; and he is as much displeased when we injure our own interests,
as when we injure those of others. The idea, therefore, that we are excusable
if we harm no one but ourselves, is false and pernicious. These, then, are
some general principles, to guide a woman in systematizing her duties and
pursuits.

The Creator of all things is a Being of perfect system and order; and, to
aid us in our duty in this respect, he has divided our time, by a regularly
returning day of rest from worldly business. In following this example, the
intervening six days maybe subdivided to secure similar benefits. In doing
this, a certain portion of time must be given to procure the means of
livelihood, and for preparing food, raiment, and dwellings. To these objects,
some must devote more, and others less, attention. The remainder of time
not necessarily thus employed, might be divided somewhat in this manner:
The leisure of two afternoons and evenings could be devoted to religious
and benevolent objects, such as religious meetings, charitable associations,
school visiting, and attention to the sick and poor. The leisure of two other

days might be devoted to intellectual improvement, and the pursuits of
taste. The leisure of another day might be devoted to social enjoyments, in
making or receiving visits; and that of another, to miscellaneous domestic
pursuits, not included in the other particulars.

It is probable that few persons could carry out such an arrangement very
strictly; but every one can make a systematic apportionment of time, and at
least aim at accomplishing it; and they can also compare with such a
general outline, the time which they actually devote to these different
objects, for the purpose of modifying any mistaken proportions.

Without attempting any such systematic employment of time, and
carrying it out, so far as they can control circumstances, most women are
rather driven along by the daily occurrences of life; so that, instead of being
the intelligent regulators of their own time, they are the mere sport of
circumstances. There is nothing which so distinctly marks the difference
between weak and strong minds as the question, whether they control
circumstances or circumstances control them.

It is very much to be feared, that the apportionment of time actually made
by most women exactly inverts the order required by reason and
Christianity. Thus, the furnishing a needless variety of food, the
conveniences of dwellings, and the adornments of dress, often take a larger
portion of time than is given to any other object. Next after this, comes
intellectual improvement; and, last of all, benevolence and religion.

It may be urged, that it is indispensable for most persons to give more
time to earn a livelihood, and to prepare food, raiment, and dwellings, than,
to any other object. But it may be asked, how much of the time, devoted to
these objects, is employed in preparing varieties of food not necessary, but
rather injurious, and how much is spent for those parts of dress and
furniture not indispensable, and merely ornamental? Let a woman subtract

from her domestic employments all the time given to pursuits which are of
no use, except as they gratify a taste for ornament, or minister increased
varieties to tempt the appetite, and she will find that much which she calls
"domestic duty," and which prevents her attention to intellectual,
benevolent, and religious objects, should be called by a very different name.

No woman has a right to give up attention to the higher interests of
herself and others, for the ornaments of person or the gratification of the
palate. To a certain extent, these lower objects are lawful and desirable; but
when they intrude on nobler interests, they become selfish and degrading.
Every woman, then, when employing her hands in ornamenting her person,
her children, or her house, ought to calculate whether she has devoted as
much time to the really more important wants of herself and others. If she
has not, she may know that she is doing wrong, and that her system for
apportioning her time and pursuits should be altered.

Some persons endeavor to systematize their pursuits by apportioning
them to particular hours of each day. For example, a certain period before
breakfast, is given to devotional duties; after breakfast, certain hours are
devoted to exercise and domestic employments; other hours, to sewing, or
reading, or visiting; and others, to benevolent duties. But in most cases, it is
more difficult to systematize the hours of each day, than it is to secure some
regular division of the week.

In regard to the minutia of family work, the writer has known the
following methods to be adopted. Monday, with some of the best
housekeepers, is devoted to preparing for the labors of the week. Any extra
cooking, the purchasing of articles to be used during the week, the assorting
of clothes for the wash, and mending such as would otherwise be injured—
these, and similar items, belong to this day. Tuesday is devoted to washing,
and Wednesday to ironing. On Thursday, the ironing is finished off, the

clothes are folded and put away, and all articles which need mending are put
in the mending-basket, and attended to. Friday is devoted to sweeping and
house-cleaning. On Saturday, and especially the last Saturday of every
month, every department is put in order; the casters and table furniture are
regulated, the pantry and cellar inspected, the trunks, drawers, and closets
arranged, and every thing about the house put in order for Sunday. By this
regular recurrence of a particular time for inspecting every thing, nothing is
forgotten till ruined by neglect. Another mode of systematizing relates to
providing proper supplies of conveniences, and proper places in which to
keep them. Thus, some ladies keep a large closet, in which are placed the
tubs, pails, dippers, soap-dishes, starch, blueing, clothes-lines, clothes-pins,
and every other article used in washing; and in the same, or another place,
is kept every convenience for ironing. In the sewing department, a trunk,
with suitable partitions, is provided, in which are placed, each in its proper
place, white thread of all sizes, colored thread, yarns for mending, colored
and black sewing-silks and twist, tapes and bobbins of all sizes, white and
colored welting-cords, silk braids and cords, needles of all sizes, papers of
pins, remnants of linen and colored cambric, a supply of all kinds of buttons
used in the family, black and white hooks and eyes, a yard measure, and all
the patterns used in cutting and fitting. These are done up in separate
parcels, and labeled. In another trunk, or in a piece-bag, such as has been
previously described, are kept all pieces used in mending, arranged in order.
A trunk, like the first mentioned, will save many steps, and often much time
and perplexity; while by purchasing articles thus by the quantity, they come
much cheaper than if bought in little portions as they are wanted. Such a
trunk should be kept locked, and a smaller supply for current use retained in
a work-basket.

A full supply of all conveniences in the kitchen and cellar, and a place
appointed for each article, very much facilitate domestic labor. For want of
this, much vexation and loss of time is occasioned while seeking vessels in

use, or in cleansing those employed by different persons for various
purposes. It would be far better for a lady to give up some expensive article
in the parlor, and apply the money thus saved for kitchen conveniences,
than to have a stinted supply where the most labor is to be performed, If our
countrywomen would devote more to comfort and convenience, and less to
show, it would be a great improvement. Expensive mirrors and pier-tables
in the parlor, and an unpainted, gloomy, ill-furnished kitchen, not
unfrequently are found under the same roof.

Another important item in systematic economy is, the apportioning of
regular employment to the various members of a family. If a housekeeper
can secure the cooperation of all her family, she will find that "many hands
make light work." There is no greater mistake than in bringing up children
to feel that they must be taken care of, and waited on by others, without any
corresponding obligations on their part. The extent to which young children
can be made useful in a family would seem surprising to those who have
never seen a systematic and regular plan for utilizing their services. The
writer has been in a family where a little girl, of eight or nine years of age,
washed and dressed herself and young brother, and made their small beds,
before breakfast; set and cleared all the tables for meals, with a little help
from a grown person in moving tables and spreading cloths; while all the
dusting of parlors and chambers was also neatly performed by her. A
brother of ten years old brought in and piled all the wood used in the
kitchen and parlor, brushed the boots and shoes, went on errands, and took
all the care of the poultry. They were children whose parents could afford to
hire servants to do this, but who chose to have their children grow up
healthy and industrious, while proper instruction, system, and
encouragement made these services rather a pleasure than otherwise, to the
children.

Some parents pay their children for such services; but this is hazardous,
as tending to make them feel that they are not bound to be helpful without
pay, and also as tending to produce a hoarding, money-making spirit. But
where children have no hoarding propensities, and need to acquire a sense
of the value of property, it may be well to let them earn money for some
extra services rather as a favor. When this is done, they should be taught to
spend it for others, as well as for themselves; and in this way, a generous
and liberal spirit will be cultivated.

There are some mothers who take pains to teach their boys most of the
domestic arts which their sisters learn. The writer has seen boys mending
their own garments and aiding their mother or sisters in the kitchen, with
great skill and adroitness; and, at an early age, they usually very much
relish joining in such occupations. The sons of such mothers, in their
college life, or in roaming about the world, or in nursing a sick wife or
infant, find occasion to bless the forethought and kindness which prepared
them for such emergencies. Few things are in worse taste than for a man
needlessly to busy himself in women's work; and yet a man never appears
in a more interesting attitude than when, by skill in such matters, he can
save a mother or wife from care and suffering. The more a boy is taught to
use his hands, in every variety of domestic employment, the more his
faculties, both of mind and body, are developed; for mechanical pursuits
exercise the intellect as well as the hands. The early training of New-
England boys, in which they turn their hand to almost every thing, is one
great reason of the quick perceptions, versatility of mind, and mechanical
skill, for which that portion of our countrymen is distinguished.

It is equally important that young girls should be taught to do some
species of handicraft that generally is done by men, and especially with
reference to the frequent emigration to new territories where well-trained
mechanics are scarce. To hang wall-paper, repair locks, glaze windows, and

mend various household articles, requires a skill in the use of tools which
every young girl should acquire. If she never has any occasion to apply this
knowledge and skill by her own hands, she will often find it needful in
directing and superintending incompetent workmen.

The writer has known one mode of systematizing the aid of the older
children in a family, which, in some cases of very large families, it may be
well to imitate. In the case referred to, when the oldest daughter was eight
or nine years old, an infant sister was given to her, as her special charge.
She tended it, made and mended its clothes, taught it to read, and was its
nurse and guardian, through all its childhood. Another infant was given to
the next daughter, and thus the children were all paired in this interesting
relation. In addition to the relief thus afforded to the mother, the elder
children, were in this way qualified for their future domestic relations, and
both older and younger bound to each other by peculiar ties of tenderness
and gratitude.

In offering these examples of various modes of systematizing, one
suggestion may be worthy of attention. It is not unfrequently the case, that
ladies, who find themselves cumbered with oppressive cares, after reading
remarks on the benefits of system, immediately commence the task of
arranging their pursuits, with great vigor and hope. They divide the day into
regular periods, and give each hour its duty; they systematize their work,
and endeavor to bring every thing into a regular routine. But, in a short
time, they find themselves baffled, discouraged, and disheartened, and
finally relapse into their former desultory ways, in a sort of resigned
despair.

The difficulty, in such cases, is, that they attempt too much at a time.
There is nothing which so much depends upon habit, as a systematic mode
of performing duty; and where no such habit has been formed, it is

impossible for a novice to start, at once, into a universal mode of
systematizing, which none but an adept could carry through. The only way
for such persons is to begin with a little at a time. Let them select some
three or four things, and resolutely attempt to conquer at these points. In
time, a habit will be formed, of doing a few things at regular periods, and in
a systematic way. Then it will be easy to add a few more; and thus, by a
gradual process, the object can be secured, which it would be vain to
attempt by a more summary course.

Early rising is almost an indispensable condition to success, in such an
effort; but where a woman lacks either the health or the energy to secure a
period for devotional duties before breakfast, let her select that hour of the
day in which she will be least liable to interruption, and let her then seek
strength and wisdom from the only true Source. At this time, let her take a
pen, and make a list of all the things which she considers as duties. Then, let
a calculation be made, whether there be time enough, in the day or the
week, for all these duties. If there be not, let the least important be stricken
from the list, as not being duties, and therefore to be omitted. In doing this,
let a woman remember that, though "what we shall eat, and what we shall
think, and wherewithal we shall be clothed," are matters requiring due
attention, they are very apt to obtain a wrong relative importance, while
intellectual, social, and moral interests receive too little regard.

In this country, eating, dressing, and household furniture and ornaments,
take far too large a place in the estimate of relative importance; and it is
probable that most women could modify their views and practice, so as to
come nearer to the Saviour's requirements. No woman has a right to put a
stitch of ornament on any article of dress or furniture, or to provide one
superfluity in food, until she is sure she can secure time for all her social,
intellectual benevolent, and religions duties. If a woman will take the

trouble to make such a calculation as this, she will usually find that she has
time enough to perform all her duties easily and well.

It is impossible for a conscientious woman to secure that peaceful mind
and cheerful enjoyment of life which all should seek, who is constantly
finding her duties jarring with each other, and much remaining undone,
which she feels that she ought to do. In consequence of this, there will be a
secret uneasiness, which will throw a shade over the whole current of life,
never to be removed, till she so efficiently defines and regulates her duties
that she can fulfill them all.

And here the writer would urge upon young ladies the importance of
forming habits of system, while unembarrassed with those multiplied cares
which will make the task so much, more difficult and hopeless. Every
young lady can systematize her pursuits, to a certain extent. She can have a
particular day for mending her wardrobe, and for arranging her trunks,
closets, and drawers. She can keep her work-basket, her desk at school, and
all her other conveniences, in their proper places, and in regular order. She
can have regular periods for reading, walking, visiting, study, and domestic
pursuits. And by following this method in youth, she will form a taste for
regularity and a habit of system, which will prove a blessing to her through
life.

XVIII.
GIVING IN CHARITY.

It is probable that there is no point of duty whereon conscientious
persons differ more in opinion, or where they find it more difficult to form
discriminating and decided views, than on the matter of charity. That we are

bound to give some of our time, money, and efforts, to relieve the destitute,
all allow. But, as to how much we are to give, and on whom our charities
shall be bestowed, many a reflecting mind has been at a loss. Yet it seems
very desirable that, in reference to a duty so constantly and so strenuously
urged by the Supreme Ruler, we should be able so to fix metes and bounds,
as to keep a conscience void of offense, and to free the mind from
disquieting fears of deficiency.

The writer has found no other topic of investigation so beset with
difficulty, and so absolutely without the range of definite rules which can
apply to all, in all circumstances. But on this, as on previous topics, there
seem to be general principles, by the aid of which any candid mind,
sincerely desirous of obeying the commands of Christ, however much self-
denial may be involved, can arrive at definite conclusions as to its own
individual obligations; so that when these are fulfilled, the mind may be at
peace.

But for a mind that is worldly, living mainly to seek its own pleasures
instead of living to please God, no principles can be so fixed as not to leave
a ready escape from all obligation. Such minds, either by indolence (and
consequent ignorance) or by sophistry, will convince themselves that a life
of engrossing self-indulgence, with perhaps the gift of a few dollars and a
few hours of time, may suffice to fulfill the requisitions of the Eternal
Judge.

For such minds, no reasonings will avail, till the heart is so changed that
to learn the will and follow the example of Jesus Christ become the leading
objects of interest and effort. It is to aid those who profess to possess this
temper of mind that the following suggestions are offered.

The first consideration which gives definiteness to this subject is a
correct view of the object for which we are placed in this world. A great

many, even of professed Christians, seem to be acting on the supposition
that the object of life is to secure as ranch as possible of all the various
enjoyments placed within reach. Not so teaches reason or revelation. From
these we learn that, though the happiness of his creatures is the end for
which God created and sustains them, yet this happiness depends not on the
various modes of gratification put within our reach, but mainly on
character. A man may possess all the resources for enjoyment which this
world can afford, and yet feel that "all is vanity and vexation of spirit," and
that he is supremely wretched. Another may be in want of all things, and yet
possess that living spring of benevolence, faith, and hope, which will make
an Eden of the darkest prison.

In order to be perfectly happy, man must attain that character which
Christ exhibited; and the nearer he approaches it, the more will happiness
reign in his breast.

But what was the grand peculiarity of the character of Christ? It was self-
denying benevolence. He came not to "seek his own;" He "went about doing
good," and this was his "meat and drink;" that is, it was this which sustained
the health and life of his mind, as food and drink sustain the health and life
of the body. Now, the mind of man is so made that it can gradually be
transformed into the same likeness. A selfish being, who, for a whole life,
has been nourishing habits of indolent self-indulgence, can, by taking Christ
as his example, by communion with him, and by daily striving to imitate his
character and conduct, form such a temper of mind that "doing good" will
become the chief and highest source of enjoyment. And this heavenly
principle will grow stronger and stronger, until self-denial loses the more
painful part of its character; and then, living to make happiness will be so
delightful and absorbing a pursuit, that all exertions, regarded as the means
to this end, will be like the joyous efforts of men when they strive for a
prize or a crown, with the full hope of success.

In this view of the subject, efforts and self-denial for the good of others
are to be regarded not merely as duties enjoined for the benefit of others,
but as the moral training indispensable to the formation of that character on
which depends our own happiness. This view exhibits the full meaning of
the Saviour's declaration, "How hardly shall they that have riches enter into
the kingdom of God!" He had before taught that the kingdom of heaven
consisted not in such enjoyments as the worldly seek, but in the temper of
self-denying benevolence, like his own; and as the rich have far greater
temptations to indolent self-indulgence, they are far less likely to acquire
this temper than those who, by limited means, are inured to some degree of
self-denial.

But on this point, one important distinction needs to be made; and that is,
between the self-denial which has no other aim than mere self-
mortification, and that which is exercised to secure greater good to
ourselves and others. The first is the foundation of monasticism, penances,
and all other forms of asceticism; the latter, only, is that which Christianity
requires.

A second consideration, which may give definiteness to this subject, is,
that the formation of a perfect character involves, not the extermination of
any principles of our nature, but rather the regulating of them, according to
the rules of reason and religion; so that the lower propensities shall always
be kept subordinate to nobler principles. Thus we are not to aim at
destroying our appetites, or at needlessly denying them, but rather so to
regulate them that they shall best secure the objects for which they were
implanted. We are not to annihilate the love of praise and admiration; but so
to control it that the favor of God shall be regarded more than the
estimation of men. We are not to extirpate the principle of curiosity, which
leads us to acquire knowledge; but so to direct it, that all our acquisitions
shall be useful and not frivolous or injurious. And thus with all the

principles of the mind: God has implanted no desires in our constitution
which are evil and pernicious. On the contrary, all our constitutional
propensities, either of mind or body, he designed we should gratify,
whenever no evils would thence result, either to ourselves or others. Such
passions as envy, selfish ambition, contemptuous pride, revenge, and
hatred, are to be exterminated; for they are either excesses or excrescences,
not created by God, but rather the result of our own neglect to form habits
of benevolence and self-control.

In deciding the rules of our conduct, therefore, we are ever to bear in
mind that the development of the nobler principles, and the subjugation of
inferior propensities to them, is to be the main object of effort both for
ourselves and for others. And in conformity with this, in all our plans we
are to place religious and moral interests as first in estimation, our social
and intellectual interests next, and our physical gratifications as subordinate
to all.

A third consideration is that, though the means for sustaining life and
health are to be regarded as necessaries, without which no other duties can
be performed, yet a very large portion of the time spent by most persons in
easy circumstances for food, raiment, and dwellings, is for mere
superfluities; which are right when they do not involve the sacrifice of
higher interests, and wrong when they do. Life and health can be sustained
in the humblest dwellings, with the plainest dress, and the simplest food;
and, after taking from our means what is necessary for life and health, the
remainder is to be so divided, that the larger portion shall be given to supply
the moral and intellectual wants of ourselves and others, together with the
physical requirements of the destitute, and the smaller share to procure
those additional gratifications of taste and appetite which are desirable but
not indispensable. Mankind, thus far, have never made this apportionment
of their means; although, just as fast as they have risen from a savage state,

mere physical wants have been made, to an increasing extent, subordinate
to higher objects.

Another very important consideration is that, in urging the duty of charity
and the prior claims of moral and religious objects, no rule of duty should
be maintained which it would not be right and wise for all to follow. And
we are to test the wisdom of any general rule by inquiring what would be
the result if all mankind should practice according to it. In view of this, we
are enabled to judge of the correctness of those who maintain that, to be
consistent, men believing in the perils of all those of our race who are not
brought under the influence of the Christian system should give up not
merely the elegancies but all the superfluities of life, and devote the whole
of their means not indispensable to life and health to the propagation of
Christianity.

But if this is the duty of any, it is the duty of all; and we are to inquire
what would be the result, if all conscientious persons gave up the use of all
superfluities. Suppose that two millions of the people of the United States
were conscientious persons, and relinquished the use of every thing not
absolutely necessary to life and health. Besides reducing the education of
the people in all the higher walks of intellectual, social, and even moral
development, to very narrow limits, it would instantly throw out of
employment one half of the whole community. The writers, book-makers,
manufacturers, mechanics, merchants agriculturists, and all the agencies
they employ, would be beggared, and one half of those not reduced to
poverty would be obliged to spend all their extra means in-simply supplying
necessaries to the other half. The use of superfluities, therefore, to a certain
extent, is as indispensable to promote industry, virtue, and religion, as any
direct giving of money or time; and it is owing entirely to a want of
reflection and of comprehensive views, that any men ever make so great a
mistake as is here exhibited.

Instead, then, of urging a rule of duty which is at once irrational and
impracticable, there is another course, which commends itself to the
understandings of all. For whatever may be the practice of intelligent men,
they universally concede the principle, that our physical gratifications
should always be made subordinate to social, intellectual, and moral
advantages. And all that is required for the advancement of our whole race
to the most perfect state of society is, simply, that men should act in
agreement with this principle. And if only a very small portion of the most
intelligent of our race should act according to this rule, under the control of
Christian benevolence, the immense supplies furnished for the general good
would be far beyond what any would imagine who had never made any
calculations on the subject. In this nation alone, suppose the one million and
more of professed followers of Christ should give a larger portion of their
means for the social, intellectual, and moral wants of mankind, than for the
superfluities that minister to their own taste, convenience, and appetite; it
would be enough to furnish all the schools, colleges, Bibles, ministers, and
missionaries, that the whole world could demand; or, at least, it would be
far more than properly qualified agents to administer it could employ.

But it may be objected that, though this view in the abstract looks
plausible and rational, not one in a thousand can practically adopt it. How
few keep any account, at all, of their current expenses! How impossible it is
to determine, exactly, what are necessaries and what are superfluities! And
in regard to women, how few have the control of an income, so as not to be
bound by the wishes of a parent or a husband!

In reference to these difficulties, the first remark is, that we are never
under obligations to do what is entirely out of our power; so that those
persons who can not regulate their expenses or their charities are under no
sort of obligation to attempt it. The second remark is that, when a rule of
duty is discovered, if we can not fully attain to it, we are bound to aim at it,

and to fulfill it just so far as we can. We have no right to throw it aside
because we shall find some difficult cases when we come to apply it. The
third remark is, that no person can tell how much can be done, till a faithful
trial has been made. If a woman has never kept any accounts, nor attempted
to regulate her expenditures by the right rule, nor used her influence with
those that control her plans, to secure this object, she has no right to say
how much she can or can not do, till after a fair trial has been made.

In attempting such a trial, the following method can be taken. Let a
woman, keep an account of all she spends, for herself and her family, for a
year, arranging the items under three general heads. Under the first, put all
articles of food, raiment, rent, wages, and all conveniences. Under the
second, place all sums paid in securing an education, and books, and other
intellectual advantages. Under the third head, place all that is spent for
benevolence and religion. At the end of the year, the first and largest
account will show the mixed items of necessaries and superfluities, which
can be arranged so as to gain some sort of idea how much has been spent
for superfluities and how much for necessaries. Then, by comparing what is
spent for superfluities, with what is spent for intellectual and moral
advantages, data will be gained for judging of the past and regulating the
future.

Does a woman say she can not do this? let her think whether the offer of
a thousand dollars, as a reward-for attempting it one year, would not make
her undertake to do it; and if so, let her decide, in her own mind, which is
most valuable, a clear conscience, and the approbation of God, in this effort
to do his will, or one thousand dollars. And let her do it, with this warning
of the Saviour before her eyes—"No man can serve two masters." "Ye can
not serve God and Mammon."

Is it objected, How can we decide between superfluities and necessities,
in this list? It is replied, that we are not required to judge exactly, in all
cases. Our duty is, to use the means in our power to assist us in forming a
correct judgment; to seek the divine aid in freeing our minds from
indolence and selfishness; and then to judge, as well as we can, in our
endeavors rightly to apportion and regulate our expenses. Many persons
seem to feel that they are bound to do better than they know how. But God
is not so hard a master; and after we have used all proper means to learn the
right way, if we then follow it according to our ability, we do wrong to feel
misgivings, or to blame ourselves, if results come out differently from what
seems desirable.

The results of our actions, alone, can never prove as deserving of blame.
For men are often so placed that, owing to lack of intellect or means, it is
impossible for them to decide correctly. To use all the means of knowledge
within our reach, and then to judge, with a candid and conscientious spirit,
is all that God requires; and when we have done this, and the event seems to
come out wrong, we should never wish that we had decided otherwise. For
this would be the same as wishing that we had not followed the dictates of
judgment and conscience. As this is a world designed for discipline and
trial, untoward events are never to be construed as indications of the
obliquity of our past decisions.

But it is probable that a great portion of the women of this nation can not
secure any such systematic mode of regulating their expenses. To such, the
writer would propose one inquiry: Can not you calculate how much time
and money you spend for what is merely ornamental, and not necessary, for
yourself, your children, and your house? Can not you compare this with the
time and money you spend for intellectual and benevolent purposes? and
will not this show the need of some change? In making this examination, is
not this brief rule, deducible from the principles before laid down, the one

which should regulate you? Every person does right in spending some
portion of time and means in securing the conveniences and adornments of
taste; but the amount should never exceed what is spent in securing our own
moral and intellectual improvement, nor what is spent in benevolent efforts
to supply the physical and moral wants of our fellow-men.

In making an examination on this subject, it is sometimes the case that a
woman will count among the necessaries of life all the various modes of
adorning the person or house, practiced in the circle in which she moves;
and, after enumerating the many duties which demand attention, counting
these as a part, she will come to the conclusion that she has no time, and but
little money, to devote to personal improvement or to benevolent
enterprises. This surely is not in agreement with the requirements of the
Saviour, who calls on us to seek for others, as well as ourselves, first of all,
"the kingdom of God, and his righteousness."

In order to act in accordance with the rule here presented, it is true that
many would be obliged to give up the idea of conforming to the notions and
customs of those with whom they associate, and compelled to adopt the
maxim, "Be not conformed to this world." In many cases it would involve
an entire change in the style of living. And the writer has the happiness of
knowing more cases than one, where persons who have come to similar
views on this subject, have given up large and expensive establishments,
disposed of their carriages, dismissed a portion of their domestics, and
modified all their expenditures, that they might keep a pure conscience, and
regulate their charities more according to the requirements of Christianity.
And there are persons, well known in the religious world, who save
themselves all labor of minute calculation, by devoting so large a portion of
their time and means to benevolent objects, that they find no difficulty in
knowing that they give more for religious, benevolent, and intellectual
purposes than for superfluities.

In deciding what particular objects shall receive our benefactions, there
are also general principles to guide us. The first is that presented by our
Saviour, when, after urging the great law of benevolence, he was asked,
"And who is my neighbor?" His reply, in the parable of "the Good
Samaritan," teaches us that any human being whose wants are brought to
our knowledge is our neighbor. The wounded man in that parable was not
only a stranger, but he belonged to a foreign nation, peculiarly hated; and he
had no claim, except that his wants were brought to the knowledge of the
wayfaring man. From this we learn that the destitute of all nations become
our neighbors, as soon as their wants are brought to our knowledge.

Another general principle is this, that those who are most in need must be
relieved in preference to those who are less destitute. On this principle it is,
that we think the followers of Christ should give more to supply those who
are suffering for want of the bread of eternal life, than for those who are
deprived of physical enjoyments. And another reason for this preference is
the fact that many who give in charity have made such imperfect advances
in civilization and Christianity that the intellectual and moral wants of our
race make but a feeble impression on the mind. Relate a pitiful tale of a
family reduced to live for weeks on potatoes only, and many a mind would
awake to deep sympathy and stretch forth the hand of charity. But describe
cases where the immortal mind is pining in stupidity and ignorance, or
racked with the fever of baleful passions, and how small the number so
elevated in sentiment and so enlarged in their views as to appreciate and
sympathize in these far greater misfortunes! The intellectual and moral
wants of our fellow-men, therefore, should claim the first place in general
Christian attention, both because they are most important, and because they
are most neglected; while it should not be forgotten, in giving personal
attention to the wants of the poor, that the relief of immediate physical
distress, is often the easiest way of touching the moral sensibilities of the
destitute.

Another consideration to be borne in mind is that, in this country, there is
much less real need of charity in supplying physical necessities than is
generally supposed by those who have not learned the more excellent way.
This land is so abundant in supplies, and labor is in such demand, that every
healthy person can earn a comfortable support. And if all the poor were
instantly made virtuous, it is probable that there would be few physical
wants which could not readily be supplied by the immediate friends of each
sufferer. The sick, the aged, and the orphan would be the only objects of
charity. In this view of the case, the primary effort in relieving the poor
should be to furnish them the means of earning their own support, and to
supply them with those moral influences which are most effectual in
securing virtue and industry.

Another point to be attended to is the importance of maintaining a system
of associated charities. There is no point in which the economy of charity
has more improved than in the present mode of combining many small
contributions, for sustaining enlarged and systematic plans of charity. If all
the half-dollars which are now contributed to aid in organized systems of
charity were returned to the donors, to be applied by the agency and
discretion of each, thousands and thousands of the treasures, now employed
to promote the moral and intellectual wants of mankind, would become
entirely useless in a democracy like ours, where few are very rich and the
majority are in comfortable circumstances, this collecting and dispensing of
drops and rills is the mode by which, in imitation of nature, the dews and
showers are to distill on parched and desert lands. And every person, while
earning a pittance to unite with many more, may be cheered with the
consciousness of sustaining a grand system of operations which must have
the most decided influence in raising all mankind to that perfect state of
society which Christianity is designed to bring about.

Another consideration relates to the indiscriminate bestowal of charity.
Persons who have taken pains to inform themselves, and who devote their
whole time to dispensing charities, unite in declaring that this is one of the
most fruitful sources of indolence, vice, and poverty. From several of these
the writer has learned that, by their own personal investigations, they have
ascertained that there are large establishments of idle and wicked persons in
most of our cities, who associate together to support themselves by every
species of imposition. They hire large houses, and live in constant rioting on
the means thus obtained. Among them are women who have or who hire the
use of infant children; others, who are blind, or maimed, or deformed, or
who can adroitly feign such infirmities; and, by these means of exciting
pity, and by artful tales of woe, they collect alms, both in city and country,
to spend in all manner of gross and guilty indulgences. Meantime many
persons, finding themselves often duped by impostors, refuse to give at all;
and thus many benefactions are withdrawn, which a wise economy in
charity would have secured. For this and other reasons, it is wise and
merciful to adopt the general rule, never to give alms till we have had some
opportunity of knowing how they will be spent. There are exceptions to
this, as to every general rule, which a person of discretion can determine.
But the practice so common among benevolent persons, of giving at least a
trifle to all who ask, lest perchance they may turn away some who are really
sufferers, is one which causes more sin and misery than it cures.

The writer has never known any system for dispensing charity so
successful as the one by which a town or city is divided into districts; and
each district is committed to the care of two ladies, whose duty it is, to call
on each family and leave a book for a child, or do some other deed of
neighborly kindness, and make that the occasion for entering into
conversation, and learning the situation of all residents in the district. By
this method, the ignorant, the vicious, and the poor are discovered, and their
physical, intellectual, and moral wants are investigated. In some places

where the writer has known this mode pursued, each person retained the
same district, year after year, so that every poor family in the place was
under the watch and care of some intelligent and benevolent lady, who used
all her influence to secure a proper education for the children, to furnish
them with suitable reading, to encourage habits of industry and economy,
and to secure regular attendance on public religious instruction. Thus, the
rich and the poor were brought in contact, in a way advantageous to both
parties; and if such a system could be universally adopted, more would be
done for the prevention of poverty and vice than all the wealth of the nation
could avail for their relief. But this plan can not be successfully carried out,
in this manner, unless there is a large proportion of intelligent, benevolent,
and self-denying persons, who unite in a systematic plan.

But there is one species of "charity" which needs especial consideration.
It is that spirit of kindly love which induces us to refrain from judging of
the means and the relative charities of other persons. There have been such
indistinct notions, and so many different standards of duty, on this subject,
that it is rare for two persons to think exactly alike, in regard to the rule of
duty. Each person is bound to inquire and judge for himself, as to his own
duty or deficiencies; but as both the resources and the amount of the actual
charities of others are beyond our ken, it is as indecorous as it is
uncharitable to sit in judgment on their decisions.

XIX.

ECONOMY OF TIME AND EXPENSES.

The value of time, and our obligation to spend every hour for some
useful end, are what few minds properly realize. And those who have the
highest sense of their obligations in this respect, sometimes greatly
misjudge in their estimate of what are useful and proper modes of
employing time. This arises from limited views of the importance of some
pursuits, which they would deem frivolous and useless, but which are in
reality necessary to preserve the health of body and mind and those social
affections which it is very important to cherish. Christianity teaches that, for
all the time afforded us, we must give account to God; and that we have no
right to waste a single hour. But time which is spent in rest or amusement is
often as usefully employed as if it were devoted to labor or devotion. In
employing our time, we are to make suitable allowance for sleep, for
preparing and taking food, for securing the means of a livelihood, for
intellectual improvement, for exercise and amusement, for social
enjoyments, and for benevolent and religious duties. And it is the right
apportionment of time, to these various duties, which constitutes its true
economy.

In deciding respecting the rectitude of our pursuits, we are bound to aim
at some practical good, as the ultimate object. With every duty of this life,
our benevolent Creator has connected some species of enjoyment, to draw

us to perform it. Thus, the palate is gratified, by performing the duty of
nourishing our bodies; the principle of curiosity is gratified in pursuing
useful knowledge; the desire of approbation is gratified, when we perform
general social duties; and every other duty has an alluring enjoyment
connected with it. But the great mistake of mankind has consisted in
seeking the pleasures connected with these duties, as the sole aim, without
reference to the main end that should be held in view, and to which the
enjoyment should be made subservient. Thus, men gratify the palate,
without reference to the question whether the body is properly nourished:
and follow after knowledge, without inquiring whether it ministers to good
or evil; and seek amusement without reference to results.

In gratifying the implanted desires of our nature, we are bound so to
restrain ourselves, by reason and conscience, as always to seek the main
objects of existence—the highest good of ourselves and others; and never to
sacrifice this for the mere gratification of our desires. We are to gratify
appetite, just so far as is consistent with health and usefulness; and the
desire for knowledge, just so far as will enable us to do most good by our
influence and efforts; and no farther. We are to seek social intercourse, to
that extent which will best promote domestic enjoyment and kindly feelings
among neighbors and friends; and we are to pursue exercise and
amusement, only so far as will best sustain the vigor of body and mind.

The laws of the Supreme Ruler, when he became the civil as well as the
religious Head of the Jewish theocracy, furnish an example which it would
be well for all attentively to consider, when forming plans for the
apportionment of time and property. To properly estimate this example, it
must be borne in mind, that the main object of God was, to set an example
of the temporal rewards that follow obedience to the laws of the Creator,
and at the same time to prepare religious teachers to extend the true religion
to the whole race of man.

Before Christ came, the Jews were not required to go forth to other
nations as teachers of religion, nor were the Jewish nation led to obedience
by motives of a life to come. To them God was revealed, both as a father
and a civil ruler, and obedience to laws relating solely to this life was all
that was required. So low were they in the scale of civilization and mental
development, that a system which confined them to one spot, as an
agricultural people, and prevented their growing very rich, or having
extensive commerce with other nations, was indispensable to prevent their
relapsing into the low idolatries and vices of the nations around them, while
temporal rewards and penalties were more effective than those of a life to
come.

The proportion of time and property, which every Jew was required to
devote to intellectual, benevolent, and religious purposes, was as follows:

In regard to property, they were required to give one tenth of all their
yearly income to support the Levites, the priests, and the religious service.
Next, they were required to give the first-fruits of all their corn, wine, oil,
and fruits, and the first-born of all their cattle, for the Lord's treasury, to be
employed for the priests, the widow, the fatherless, and the stranger. The
first-born, also, of their children, were the Lord's, and were to be redeemed
by a specified sum, paid into the sacred treasury. Besides this, they were
required to bring a free-will offering to God, every time they went up to the
three great yearly festivals. In addition to this, regular yearly sacrifices of
cattle and fowls were required of each family, and occasional sacrifices for
certain sins or ceremonial Impurities. In reaping their fields, they were
required to leave unreaped, for the poor, the corners; not to glean their
fields, oliveyards, or vineyards; and, if a sheaf was left by mistake, they
were not to return for it but leave it for the poor.

One twelfth of the people were set apart, having no landed property, to be
priests and teachers; and the other tribes were required to support them
liberally.

In regard to the time taken from secular pursuits, for the support of
education and religion, an equally liberal amount was demanded. In the first
place, one seventh part of their time was taken for the weekly sabbath,
when no kind of work was to be done. Then the whole nation were required
to meet at the appointed place three times a year, which, including their
journeys and stay there, occupied eight weeks, or another seventh part of
their time. Then the sabbatical year, when no agricultural labor was to be
done, took another seventh of their time from their regular pursuits, as they
were an agricultural people. This was the amount of time and property
demanded by God, simply to sustain education, religion, and morality
within the bounds of one nation. It was promised to this nation and fulfilled
by constant miraculous interpositions, that in this life, obedience to God's
laws should secure health, peace, prosperity, and long life; while for
disobedience was threatened war, pestilence, famine, and all temporal evils.
These promises were constantly verified, and in the day of Solomon, when,
this nation was most obedient, the whole world was moved with wonder at
its wealth and prosperity. But up to this time, no attempt was made by God
to govern the Israelites by the rewards and penalties of the world to come.

But "when the fullness of time had come," and the race of man was
prepared to receive higher responsibilities, Jesus Christ came and "brought
life and immortality to light" with a clearness never before revealed. At the
same time was revealed the fatherhood of God, not to the Jews alone, but to
the whole human race, and the consequent brotherhood of man; and these
revelations in many respects changed the whole standard of duty and
obligation.

Christ came as "God manifest in the flesh," to set an example of self-
sacrificing love, in rescuing the whole family of man from the dangers of
the unseen world, and also to teach and train his disciples through all time
to follow his example. And those who conform the most consistently to his
teachings and example will aim at a standard of labor and self-denial far
beyond that demanded of the Jews.

It is not always that men understand the economy of Providence, in that
unequal distribution of property which, even under the most perfect form of
government, will always exist. Many, looking at the present state of things,
imagine that the rich, if they acted in strict conformity to the law of
benevolence, would share all their property with their suffering fellow-men.
But such do not take into account the inspired declaration that "a man's life
consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth," or, in
other words, life is made valuable, not by great possessions, but by such a
character as prepares a man to enjoy what he holds. God perceives that
human character can be most improved by that kind of discipline which
exists when there is something valuable to be gained by industrious efforts.
This stimulus to industry could never exist in a community where all are
just alike, as it does in a state of society where every man sees possessed by
others enjoyments which he desires and may secure by effort and industry.
So, in a community where all are alike as to property, there would be no
chance to gain that noblest of all attainments, a habit of self-denying
benevolence which toils for the good of others, and takes from one's own
store to increase the enjoyments of another.

Instead, then, of the stagnation, both of industry and of benevolence,
which would follow the universal and equable distribution, of property,
some men, by superior advantages of birth, or intellect, or patronage, come
into possession of a great amount of capital. With these means they are
enabled, by study, reading, and travel, to secure expansion of mind and just

views of the relative advantages of moral, intellectual, and physical
enjoyments. At the same time, Christianity imposes obligations
corresponding with the increase of advantages and means. The rich are not
at liberty to spend their treasures chiefly for themselves. Their wealth is
given, by God, to be employed for the best good of mankind; and their
intellectual advantages are designed, primarily, to enable them to judge
correctly in employing their means most wisely for the general good.

Now, suppose a man of wealth inherits ten thousand acres of real estate;
it is not his duty to divide it among his poor neighbors and tenants. If he
took this course, it is probable that most of them would spend all in
thriftless waste and indolence, or in mere physical enjoyments. Instead,
then, of thus putting his capital out of his hands, he is bound to retain and so
to employ it as to raise his family and his neighbors to such a state of virtue
and intelligence that they can secure far more, by their own efforts and
industry, than he, by dividing his capital, could bestow upon them.

In this view of the subject, it is manifest that the unequal distribution of
property is no evil. The great difficulty is, that so large a portion of those
who hold much capital, instead of using their various advantages for the
greatest good of those around them, employ them for mere selfish
indulgences; thus inflicting as much mischief on themselves as results to
others from their culpable neglect. A great portion of the rich seem to be
acting on the principle that the more God bestows on them the less are they
under obligation to practice any self-denial in fulfilling his benevolent plan
of raising our race to intelligence and virtue.

But there are cheering examples of the contrary spirit and prejudice,
some of which will be here recorded to influence and encourage others.

A lady of great wealth, high position, and elegant culture, in one of our
large cities, hired and furnished a house adjacent to her own, and, securing

the aid of another benevolent and cultivated woman, took twelve orphan
girls, of different ages, and educated them under their joint care. Not only
time and money were given, but love and labor, just as if these were their
own children; and as fast as one was provided for, another was taken.

In another city, a young lady with property of her own hired a house and
made it a home for homeless and unprotected women, who paid board when
they could earn it, and found a refuge when out of employment.

In another city, the wife of one of its richest merchants, living in princely
style, took two young girls from the certain road to ruin among the vicious
poor. She boarded them with a respectable farmer, and sent them to school,
and every week went out, not only to supervise them, but to aid in training
them to habits of neatness, industry, and obedience, just as if they were her
own children. Next, she hired a large house near the most degraded part of
the city, furnished it neatly and with all suitable conveniences to work, and
then rented to those among the most degraded whom she could bring to
conform to a few simple rules of decency, industry, and benevolence—one
of these rules being that they should pay her the rent every Saturday night.
To this motley gathering she became chief counselor and friend, quieted
their brawls, taught them to aid each other in trouble or sickness, and strove
to introduce among them that law of patient love and kindness, illustrated
by her own example. The young girls in this tenement she assembled every
Saturday at her own house—taught them to sing, heard them recite their
Sunday-school lessons, to be sure these were properly learned; taught them
to make and mend their own clothing, trimmed their bonnets, and took
charge of their Sunday dress, that it might always be in order. Of course,
such benevolence drew a stream of ignorance and misery to her door; and
so successful was her labor that she hired a second house, and managed it
on the same plan. One hot day in August, a friend found her combing the
head of a poor, ungainly, foreign girl. She had persuaded a friend to take her

from compassion, and she was returned because her head was in such in a
state. Finding no one else to do it, the lady herself bravely met the
difficulty, and persevered in this daily ministry till the evil was remedied,
and the poor girl thus secured a comfortable home and wages.

A young lady of wealth and position, with great musical culture and taste,
found among the poor two young girls with fine voices and great musical
talent. Gaining her parents' consent, the young lady took one of them home,
trained her in music, and saw that her school education was secured, so that
when expensive masters and instruments were needed the girl herself
earned the money required, as a governess in a family of wealthy friends.
Then she aided the sister; and, as the result, one of them is married happily
to a man of great wealth, and the other is receiving a large income as a
popular musical artist.

Another young girl, educated as a fine musician by her wealthy parents,
at the age of sixteen was afflicted with weak eyes and a heart complaint.
She strove to solace herself by benevolent ministries. By teaching music to
children of wealthy friends she earned the means to relieve and instruct the
suffering, ignorant, and poor.

These examples may suffice to show that, even among the most wealthy,
abundant modes of self-denying benevolence may be found where there is a
heart to seek them.

There is no direction in which a true Christian economy of time and
money is more conspicuous than in the style of living adopted in the family
state.

Those who build stately mansions, and lay out extensive grounds, and
multiply the elegancies of life, to be enjoyed by themselves and a select
few, "have their reward" in the enjoyments that end in this life. But those

who with, equal means adopt a style that enables them largely to devote
time and wealth to the elevation and improvement of their fellow-men, are
laying up never-failing treasures in heaven.

XX.
HEALTH OF MIND.

There is such an intimate connection between the body and mind that the
health of one can not be preserved without a proper care of the other. And it
is from a neglect of this principle, that some of the most exemplary and
conscientious persons in the world suffer a thousand mental agonies from a
diseased state of body, while others ruin the health of the body by
neglecting the proper care of the mind.

When the mind is excited by earnest intellectual effort, or by strong
passions, the blood rushes to the head and the brain is excited. Sir Astley
Cooper records that, in examining the brain of a young man who had lost a
portion of his skull, whenever "he was agitated by some opposition to his
wishes," "the blood was sent with increased force to his brain," and the
pulsations "became frequent and violent." The same effect was produced by
any intellectual effort; and the flushed countenance which attends earnest
study or strong emotions of interest of any kind, is an external indication of
the suffused state of the brain from such causes.

In exhibiting the causes which injure the health of the mind, we shall find
them to be partly physical, partly intellectual, and partly moral.

The first cause of mental disease and suffering is not unfrequently in the
want of a proper supply of duly oxygenized blood. It has been shown that

the blood, in passing through the lungs, is purified by the oxygen of the air
combining with the superabundant hydrogen and carbon of the venous
blood, thus forming carbonic acid and water, which are expired into the
atmosphere. Every pair of lungs is constantly withdrawing from the
surrounding atmosphere its healthful principle, and returning one which is
injurious to human life.

When, by confinement and this process, the air is deprived of its
appropriate supply of oxygen, the purification of the blood is interrupted,
and it passes without being properly prepared into the brain, producing
languor, restlessness, and inability to exercise the intellect and feelings.
Whenever, therefore, persons sleep in a close apartment, or remain for a
length of time in a crowded or ill-ventilated room, a most pernicious
influence is exerted on the brain, and, through this, on the mind. A person
who is often exposed to such influences can never enjoy that elasticity and
vigor of mind which is one of the chief indications of its health. This is the
reason why all rooms for religious meetings, and all school-rooms and
sleeping apartments should be so contrived as to secure a constant supply of
fresh air from without. The minister who preaches in a crowded and ill-
ventilated apartment loses much of his power to feel and to speak, while the
audience are equally reduced in their capability of attending. The teacher
who confines children in a close apartment diminishes their ability to study,
or to attend to instructions. And the person who habitually sleeps in a close
room impairs mental energy in a similar degree. It is not unfrequently the
case that depression of spirits and stupor of intellect are occasioned solely
by inattention to this subject.

Another cause of mental disease is the excessive exercise of the intellect
or feelings. If the eye is taxed beyond its strength by protracted use, its
blood-vessels become gorged, and the bloodshot appearance warns of the
excess and the need of rest. The brain is affected in a similar manner by

excessive use, though the suffering and inflamed organ can not make its
appeal to the eye. But there are some indications which ought never to be
misunderstood or disregarded. In cases of pupils at school or at college, a
diseased state, from over-action, is often manifested by increased clearness
of mind, and temporary ease and vigor of mental action. In one instance,
known to the writer, a most exemplary and industrious pupil, anxious to
improve every hour and ignorant or unmindful of the laws of health, first
manifested the diseased state of her brain and mind by demands for more
studies, and a sudden and earnest activity in planning modes of
improvement for herself and others. When warned of her danger, she
protested that she never was better in her life; that she took regular exercise
in the open air, went to bed in season, slept soundly, and felt perfectly well;
that her mind was never before so bright and clear, and study never so easy
and delightful. And at this time, she was on the verge of derangement, from
which she was saved only by an entire cessation of all intellectual efforts.

A similar case occurred, under the eye of the writer, from over-excited
feelings. It was during a time of unusual religious interest in the
community, and the mental disease was first manifested by the pupil
bringing her hymn-book or Bible to the class-room, and making it her
constant resort, in every interval of school duty. It finally became
impossible to convince her that it was her duty to attend to any thing else;
her conscience became morbidly sensitive, her perceptions indistinct, her
deductions unreasonable; and nothing but entire change of scene and
exercise, and occupation of her mind by amusement, saved her. When the
health of the brain was restored, she found that she could attend to the "one
thing needful," not only without interruption of duty or injury to health, but
rather so as to promote both. Clergymen and teachers need most carefully to
notice and guard against the dangers here alluded to.