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HINTS TO A LADY. 
 
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 HINTS 
 
 FASHIONABLE LADY. 
 
 BY A PHISICIAN. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 CHARLES S. FRANCIS — 252 BROADWAY. 
 MUNROE & FRANCIS, BOSTON. 
 
 1831. 
 
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 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in 1831, 
 
 By Charles S. Francis, 
 
 in the Clerks Office of the Southern District of New York- 
 
 f^a 
 
 Day & Evans, Printers, Chatham square, corner of Mott street. 
 
PREFACE* 
 
 Few individuals have so good an oppor- 
 tunity of observing the diversified shades of 
 human character, and the moral and physical 
 effects of education and early habits, as the 
 physician. It is one of the great studies of his 
 profession, to trace the connexion between 
 cause and effect — in detecting the often ob- 
 scure origin of human maladies, and to mark 
 the influence of the mind upon the body, and 
 the body upon the mind. Of course, he 
 necessarily becomes a close observer of 
 every thing that relates to man. The in- 
 fluences of climate, diet, and habits of life, 
 are not all that engage his attention. The 
 wide field of Nature, as well inanimate as 
 animate, demands his notice ; and even the 
 
mysterious connexion between spirit and 
 matter, escapes not his scrutiny. Every 
 patient who consults him, requires the most 
 careful investigation ; and the inducements 
 to faithfulness in discharging this duty, are 
 of the highest order — the life of a fellow- 
 creature, and his own responsibility. In one 
 instance, he sees a healthy frame gradually 
 wasted, and worn out by the secret workings 
 of an ambitious mind. In another, disease 
 of some important organ prostrating the 
 most powerful intellect. In another, hap- 
 piness annihilated, and the vital current 
 dried up by some withering calamity ; and 
 in another, the thoughtlessness of a single 
 moment, blasting all the blooming prospects 
 of life, and consigning the wretched being 
 to unceasing sufferings. The whole history 
 of man, from the cradle to the grave, is con- 
 stantly passing before him, and he becomes 
 intimately acquainted with all the machinery 
 that is employed behind the scenes in the 
 great drama of human existence. From his 
 efforts to check the progress of disease, and 
 alleviate corporeal suffering, he is naturally 
 
Vll 
 
 looked upon by his patients as a guardian 
 and friend — he is admitted into the sanctity 
 of domestic privacy — becomes the confi- 
 dential repository of feelings and events 
 which are carefully concealed from the world 
 at large, and sometimes from the nearest 
 relations ; and from seeing those who employ 
 him at all times, and under every variety of 
 circumstances, in sickness and in health — in 
 prosperity and adversity — in the moments of 
 gay festivity, as well as those of silent melan- 
 choly — in the studied exterior of fashionable 
 life, and in the unguardedness of retirement, 
 he is enabled to mark the workings of the 
 passions, and the hidden movements of the 
 heart ; and is undoubtedly better acquainted 
 than other men with the actual sum of human 
 happiness and misery. I would not intimate 
 that all who are called physicians, do in fact 
 peruse the book of Nature which is thus 
 spread open before them, or profit from 
 their opportunities as they might. Far from 
 it. Comparatively but few possess those 
 amiable virtues, combined with sufficient 
 abilities, and are so faithful in the discharge 
 
Vlll 
 
 of their duties as to acquire the entire con- 
 fidence of a considerable circle ; and very 
 many who are in full practice, and stand 
 high in the estimation of their employers, 
 have their eyes so intently fixed upon the 
 golden prospect of gain, that they are blind 
 to every thing else. Such men are seldom 
 zealous cultivators of the profession ; for 
 sordid avarice is as incompatible with an 
 ardent love of the sciences, as it is with the 
 finest and noblest emotions of the soul. A 
 man indeed may be conciliating in his man- 
 ners, and indefatigable in his attendance on 
 the sick, because it is his interest to be so ; 
 but he must be actuated by more generous 
 principles, to be in fact the good physician. 
 It is humanity that prompts him to sacrifice at 
 all times his own ease for that of his patient, 
 and to be ever ready to afford the resources 
 of his art ; or when his efforts are all in vain, 
 to linger around the couch of his expiring 
 charge, and with soothing language, and 
 kind offices, assuage the agonies of dis- 
 solving Nature, and smooth the rugged ave- 
 nues to the grave. Nor do these services 
 
pass unrewarded. He receives a larger 
 share of unaiFected gratitude than falls to 
 the lot of other men ; but above all, he has 
 the delightful consciousness of doing his 
 duty — a compensation not to be estimated 
 by the paltry currencies of this world. 
 
 I have said that few individuals have so 
 good an opportunity of observing the diver- 
 sified shades of human character, and the 
 moral and physical effects of education and 
 early habits, as the physician. Of course, 
 few can be as competent to give instruction 
 on a great variety of subjects, which affect 
 the lives and happiness of their fellow men, or 
 have it in their power to enforce their in- 
 structions with such a vast variety of exam- 
 ples, drawn from daily observation, and 
 scenes with which no one else can be as 
 conversant. 
 
 The importance of the subjects briefly 
 noticed in this little work has been strangely 
 impressed upon the author in the course of 
 his professional labors by a great variety of 
 occurrences, many of which were of the most 
 painful nature ; and he is confident that 
 
much good may be done by presenting them 
 to the female part of the community in their 
 true light. That the conduct of mani/ will 
 be essentially influenced by a perusal of 
 these pages, the author can hardly expect ; 
 but if they produce the effect intended in a 
 single instance, they will not have beeu 
 written in vain. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IMPORTANCE OF FEMALE HEALTH. 
 
 Advantage of being born of healthy parents— Hereditary dis- 
 eases—Sphere which Females are destined to fill in society, 
 and their influence— A Mother's duty to her daughters — Early 
 decay --• Page 14. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 RULEB FOR INVIGORATING THE CONSTITUTION. 
 
 Exercise— Diet — Dress — Hours of Study— Spartan Health- 
 Dancing — Definite Rules — Early Rising — Female Schools — 
 Pushing Genius — Miss A Nervous Lady, - - 26* 
 
 CHAPTER HL 
 
 MEANS OF PRESERVING HEALTH. 
 
 Beauty Desirable — Its Influence — Its Preservation — Personal 
 Cleanliness — Simplicity of Diet — Fresh Air. - - - 63. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DANGERS OF TOO EARLT INTRODUCTION TO SOCIETY. 
 
 Girls admitted into Society at an early period in America — 
 State of their System, and Efl*ects of immoderate mental 
 Excitement — Sketch of Early Life — Cruelty of abridging its 
 Pleasures — Winter Amusements — Their Eflects — Case of 
 MissK , 75' 
 
xu 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DRESS. 
 
 Importance of the Subject — Female Form and Fashionable 
 Figures— Phenomena of Respiration — Effects of Tight 
 Clothes— Diagrams of the Chest, and Explanation of the 
 Process of Breathing— Narrowing of the Chest— Quotation 
 from Dr. Godman — Effects of Pressure upon the Muscles of 
 the Back— Opinions of Messrs. Shaw and Bampfield— Com- 
 mon Excuse for wearing Stays — Singular Case at the Hotel 
 Dieu— The Fashionable Waist— Exposure of the Neck and 
 upper part of the Chest— Covering for the Feet— The Damp 
 Stockings— La Petite Parisienne. 93. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 EFFECTS OF EDUCATION AND EXAMPLE. 
 
 Influence of Education upon the Conduct— Danger of Extremea 
 of Restraint and Indulgence — The Clergyman's Son — The 
 Profligate— The Reformation — The Draught of Laudanum 
 —The Fatal Rencontre. 149. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 DEPRESSING PASSIONS. 
 
 Their Effects, and the necessity of Mental Discipline— Opin- 
 ions of Laonnec— Bursting of a Bloodvessel. - - - 181. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 IMPRUDENT MARRIAGES. 
 
 Readiness with which Parents bestow their Daughters upon 
 Thoughtless Young Men— The Young Englishman- The 
 Gamester. -.^••,^-- 201. 
 
HINTS 
 
 TO A 
 
 FASHIONABLE LADY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IMPORTANCE OF FEMALE HEALTH. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OP BEING BORN OF HEALTHY PARENTS 
 HEREDITARY DISEASES SPHERE WHICH FE- 
 MALES ARE DESTINED TO FILL IN SOCIETY, AND 
 
 THEIR INFLUEiXCE A MOTHER's DUTY TO HER 
 
 DAUGHTERS EARLY DECAY, 
 
 It is undoubtedly one of the greatest 
 blessings to be born of healthy parents ; in- 
 asmuch as the natural constitution of the 
 child depends in a great measure upon the 
 constitution of those who gave it being. We 
 often hear of hereditary diseases, as con- 
 sumption, gout and madness ; and it is a 
 vulgar notion that these commonly depend 
 upon some peculiar taint in the system. 
 This, however, when applied to the great 
 mass of persons, is unquestionably a mis- 
 taken idea. The strong predisposition to 
 many diseases, which we often observe in 
 B 
 
14 
 
 families, appears to depend upon the pecu- 
 liar constitution, or conformation of the 
 children, which commonly as strongly re- 
 sembles that of the parents, as do their 
 stature, features and complexion. Thus the 
 child of tall, dark complexioned, robust pa- 
 rents, naturally resembles them in these 
 respects ; while the child of small, fair 
 complexioned, feeble parents, as naturally 
 resembles them. The one, perhaps, may 
 be fitted to withstand the ordinary causes of 
 disease and death, till the age of three 
 score and ten ; the other may scarcely have 
 vital force enough to last out half that pe- 
 riod. The one shall be exposed to all the 
 vicissitudes of the seasons, and the influence 
 of a noxious climate, with impunity ; the 
 other shall fall a victim to a trifling change 
 of temperature, or to a current of cold 
 damp air. 
 
 The inattentive observer would not notice 
 the striking resemblance between the con- 
 stitutions of the child and parents before 
 puberty, because most of the diseases of in- 
 fancy are different from those of riper years : 
 but after maturity, it is easily discovered. 
 There is scarcely a complaint, excepting 
 febrile diseases, that is not frequently found 
 to afllict the different generations of the 
 same family in a remarkable degree. How 
 
15 
 
 often are we told by the mother of a young 
 man or young woman, suffering from peri- 
 odical headaches, fainting fits, palpitation of 
 the heart, weak eyes, weak stomach, and 
 a vast variety of other maladies, that either 
 she or her husband have been afflicted in the 
 same way. 
 
 But the evil does not stop here. The 
 predisposition to disease in the children of 
 unhealthy parents, brought up under similar 
 circumstances, is materially increased. I 
 have known five out of six children, who 
 were apparently healthy till after maturity, 
 to die before thirty-five, of a disease to which 
 one of the parents has showed a marked pre- 
 disposition, though they are both still alive. 
 This is but a solitary instance. How often 
 is the father seen bending with the weight 
 of years over the graves of a numerous 
 offspring, all deposited in the silent mansion 
 before him ? How often does the mother, 
 whose early life has been spent in rearing 
 her prattling charge, descend in her old age 
 childless and sorrowing to the tomb? I 
 have often contemplated, with feelings of 
 the most melancholy kind, these aged 
 persons, once happy in the society of a 
 respectable family, standing desolate and 
 alone in this pitiless world, like the oak of 
 
16 
 
 the forest, stript of its lofty branches, and 
 seared by the lightning's stroke. 
 
 It is not my object to enter into a long 
 discussion on this subject, but to draw your 
 attention to that part of it which may be 
 practically useful to you. I refer to the ev- 
 ident dependence of the constitution of the 
 child upon the health of the mother. That 
 the children of a feeble mother are very 
 apt to be delicate, cannot admit of a doubt. 
 It is confirmed by the observation of all 
 ages and of every country. It is not as- 
 serted that a feeble woman may never be 
 the mother of a robust child ; but that by 
 far the largest proportion of persons, born 
 of feeble mothers, are more or less in con- 
 stitution like them. This, however, is not 
 all : we have good reason to believe, that 
 the children of a naturally healthy mother, 
 born after she has become a decided in- 
 valid, are less likely to be robust, than those 
 born before her loss of health. It is the 
 opinion of several distinguished English 
 physicians, that persons who have broken 
 good constitutions by residing in the East 
 Indies, are likely to entail diseases on their 
 children born after their return. The im- 
 portance then of female health, is far from 
 being confined to the individual: it extends 
 
17 
 
 to her children, and to the community at 
 large. - 
 
 The Spartans were so sensible of this 
 fact, that the education of their females, 
 (which was under the control of the govern- 
 ment,) was in every respect calculated to 
 give them the firmest constitutions. But 
 among us, how entirely is the subject neg- 
 lected. Yet, can any thing be more plain, 
 if the health of children depends in a great 
 measure upon that of the mother, (and no 
 one, I believe, will attempt to disprove this 
 statement,; that it is a subject of immense 
 importance, and the first duty of the mo- 
 ther, to do every thing in her power 
 to invigorate her own system. If she 
 would see her offspring robust, she must 
 be healthy herself. But how severe must 
 be the retribution to her, who wantonly 
 wastes her strength in immoderate gaity, or 
 thoughtless dissipation. She may indeed 
 be surrounded by a numerous family, and 
 they may escape the dangers of infancy 
 and childhood ; and after they have become 
 her companions, and the promised solace of 
 her declining years, she may see them one 
 by one snatched from her, by the operation 
 of unavoidable causes upon their feeble 
 frames ; and at last, descend herself to the 
 grave, without a filial hand to soothe her 
 
18 
 
 expiring agonies, or the tears of one who 
 ' could call her mother, to bedew her lifeless 
 corse. 
 
 I have intimated that too little attention 
 is paid to the physical education of our 
 females; and the important sphere which 
 they are destined to fill in society, seems in 
 early life to be forgotten. And what are 
 the duties which devolve upon them ? Are 
 they beings merely subservient to the plea- 
 sures of the other sex ? Have they no part 
 of their own to perform in the great drama 
 of human existence ? If so, the Tu; ks are 
 the only people who duly estimate their 
 value, and the sooner we adopt Turkish 
 customs, and make them the indolent in- 
 mates of a harem, the better. But to 
 whom is man principally indebted for his 
 own physical character ? Unquestionably 
 to his mother. 1st. Because his constitu- 
 tion strongly partakes of hers. 2d. Be- 
 cause from her he derives the nutriment of 
 his infancy. 3d. Because his corporeal 
 vigor materially depends upon her manage- 
 ment of his early years. But to whom is 
 man principally indebted for his moral cha- 
 racter? Unquestionably to his mother. — 
 She it is who must watch the first dawnings 
 of intellect — instil into his mind the first 
 principles of honor, morality and virtue. 
 
19 
 
 She it is who must check the first buddings 
 of vice, and guide him through the fickle- 
 ness and waywardness of childhood, to the 
 stability and moral rectitude, which should 
 characterize the period of maturity. In 
 her alone are his earliest affections centred. 
 She administers to all his little wants, and 
 soothes every pain, and the fond name of 
 mother is the first he learns to lisp, and the 
 last to lose its magic influence over the 
 emotions of his heart. He implicitly fol- 
 lows the path she points out to him : at her 
 bidding, he burns with the patriot's noble 
 flame, and rushes with enthusiastic ardor 
 towards that steep 'Svhere fame's proud 
 temple shines afar," or grasps the assassin's 
 knife, and becomes the terror and detes- 
 tation of his species. At her reproof, he 
 sheds the tear of contrition for his faults, 
 and opens his bosom to the holy influence 
 of religion. 
 
 In society, the influence of a sensible, 
 well informed, virtuous woman is really in- 
 calculable ; and where is the man who is 
 wholly insensible of it, or can approach her 
 without rendering her that homage which 
 in all civilized countries she claims ? She 
 throws a magic circle around her, and ren- 
 ders all who enter it the subjects of her spell, 
 and man, with all his pride of heart, and 
 
20 
 
 with all his boasted philosophy, yields to her 
 attractions as the needle turns obedient to 
 the poles. Is this the effect of weakness ? 
 He proudly spurns the thought. Is it the 
 impulse of a law of nature which he finds 
 irresistible ? The conduct of the savage does 
 not prove this. Is it not rather the effect of 
 the earliest impressions of his infancy, cul- 
 tivated and matured by the moral influence 
 of civilization and refinement ? To whom 
 did he first learn obedience, but to that being 
 who hung over his cradle in his first con- 
 scious moments in all the fondness and ten- 
 derness of maternal love, and whose outline 
 is indelibly imprinted upon the tablet of his 
 heart ? Who gave that inclination and tone 
 to his character which distinguishes him 
 through life ? In a word, who taught him to 
 be a man ? A icoman. In seeking then her 
 society, and acknowledging her powers, he 
 shows himself not unmindful of the debt he 
 owes her ; while in striving to render himself 
 worthy of her esteem, the asperities of his 
 own character are rubbed off, and ho be- 
 comes more estimable in the eyes of his fel- 
 low men. '' Nothing," says Rosseau, who not- 
 withstanding his faults, was one of the most 
 elegant French writers, and whose opinions, 
 in matters like this, must be considered as 
 high authority, ''Nothing serves so much to 
 
21 
 
 cultivate and improve the mind of man, and 
 give it that tone and impulse which it re- 
 quires, as the society of well informed, intel- 
 liirent women." 
 
 Upon the wife, materially depend the con- 
 duct, happiness, and prosperity of her hus- 
 band; and upon the mother, depend the mo- 
 ral and physical character, and consequently 
 the life, health, and respectability in this 
 world, and may I not add the condition in 
 the next, of all the beings committed to her 
 charge ? 
 
 Here then is a hasty sketch of the impor- 
 tant part you are destined to perform. Need 
 I add how indispensibly necessary is mental 
 vigor to its accomplishment, or how much 
 that vigor must depend upon the health of 
 the body ? Do not the minds of the sickly 
 become wavering, irresolute, and often im- 
 becile ? Or do those who are invalids from 
 their infancy ever exhibit any thing like en- 
 ergy of character ? Some one talent, I ac- 
 knowledge, may now and then be fully de- 
 veloped, but the mind, considered as a whole, 
 seldom attains to the standard of perfection. 
 The ordinary saying, '' a weak minded, 
 sickly creature," is far from being arbitrary, 
 but founded, like many others, on common 
 observation. But if mental vigor could be 
 possessed without health, is not a good con- 
 
22 
 
 stitution all important to the female, that she 
 may impart it to her offspring, and be capa- 
 ble of performing the arduous task of nmse 
 and governess ? If she is sickly, she must be 
 both corporeally and mentally incompetent 
 to discharge her duties with honor and satis- 
 faction, and her children must be in a great 
 measure deprived of the benefits of a mother. 
 Their tenderest moments must be trusted 
 to others, and their early education left in 
 no small degree to chance. Of course she 
 loses the powerful ascendancy which, with 
 health, she might exercise over them, and 
 instead of being the sole idol of their hearts, 
 must be content with an humble place in their 
 affections. She only performs half a mo- 
 ther's office ; of course she can expect but 
 half a mother's reward. But this is not all, 
 for want of the care which she might have 
 given them, they may drop one by one into 
 an untimely grave, or what is far w^orse, she 
 may be doomed to see them grow up, foul 
 excrescences upon the face of society, at 
 last, perhaps, to be extirpated by the hand 
 of public justice. 
 
 One would think the foregoing considera- 
 tions sufficient to induce every mother to use 
 all possible means of invigorating her own 
 system, both on account of the health of her 
 children, and that she may be perfectly com- 
 
23 
 
 petent to discharge her duties to them. But 
 where is the mother, even though she may 
 be careless of her own health, so unmindful 
 of the happiness of her offspring, so lost to 
 all the best feelings of her nature, as to al- 
 low her daughters to grow up feeble and 
 sickly, for ^^ant of proper attention on her 
 part to their dress, food, habits of exercise, 
 and every thing else within her control 
 which can influence them. 
 
 We daily see the melancholy effects of 
 carelessness in these matters. Often, doubt- 
 less, it has arisen from ignorance, or mista- 
 ken notions of the animal machine, and the 
 operation of various causes upon it. And is not 
 this ignorance culpable, when every female 
 has it in her power to become enlighted on 
 this subject ? But are there not many mothers 
 who indulge their dauo^hters in habits which 
 they know to be hurtful to them, from a 
 fondness of seeing them enjoy the moment, 
 without any regard to consequences ? Does 
 not every physician declare dissipation and 
 bad hours to be pernicious in the highest de- 
 gree to young persons ? And does not every 
 woman, who has attained to the age of five- 
 and-twenty, know the same from her own 
 observation ? And yet how constantly are 
 young girls, ere their constitutions are fully 
 formed, permitted to waste their strength in 
 
24 
 
 midnight gaities, till the rose has given place 
 to the lily, and their thin, enervated forms 
 show the ruinous effects of amusements, 
 which even the most robust cannot long pur- 
 sue with impunity ? How is it possible that 
 a mother can reconcile such gross incon- 
 sistencies to her conscience ? You will tell 
 me, I suppose, that it is all from thought- 
 lessness. And will this plea ease her burst- 
 ing heart, when she sees the image of her- 
 self already arrived at the age of maturity, 
 and become her companion, breathing her 
 last — immolated at the shrine of that fell de- 
 stroyer of female loveliness — consumption? 
 As well might the plea of thoughtlessness 
 soothe her anguish, had she put into the hands 
 of her infant a pistol, with which it had 
 blown out its own brains. 
 
 All our travellers agree, that the females 
 of our large towns appear much less 
 healthy, and lose their beauty earlier, than 
 those of many other countries. Unrivaled 
 at the age of eighteen in delicacy of form, 
 and in the blooming loveliness of woman- 
 hood, they are scarcely mothers, when the 
 color leaves their cheeks ; and old age 
 shows its unwelcome tokens ere they have 
 arrived at forty. 
 
 It may reasonably be asked, what occa- 
 sions this premature decay ? Is it climate. 
 
25 
 
 or diet, or any peculiarity in our mode of 
 living ? I have no hesitation in answering : 
 it is a combination of causes which cannot 
 be explained in a single word, but of which 
 I shall endeavor in my subsequent remarks 
 to give you some idea. In the mean time, 
 taking it for granted that you are fully sen- 
 sible of the vast importance of this subject, 
 I shall proceed to lay down some simple 
 rules for improving female health. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 RULES FOR INVIGORATING THE CONSTITUTION. 
 
 EXERCISE DIET DRESS HOURS OF STUDY 
 
 SPARTAN HEALTH DANCING DEFINITE RULES 
 
 EARLY RISING FEMALE SCHOOLS PUSHING 
 
 GENIUS — MISS A NERVOUS LADY. 
 
 In laying down rules for preserving 
 health, and invigorating the system, the 
 physician, in one respect, resembles the 
 religious teacher. I refer to the very small 
 number who will actually profit by his in- 
 structions. He may indeed be listened to 
 by many, and the clearness of his reason- 
 ings may force from them an acknowledge- 
 ment of the truth of his doctrines ; but few, 
 very few, will adopt them ; and he will have 
 the painful reflection, that not only are his 
 efforts lost upon the majority, but that their 
 culpability is increased by their being made 
 acquainted with the correct road, and then 
 refusing to follow it. The sin of ignorance 
 may be winked at ; but those who are well 
 informed must be censurable indeed, if they 
 pursue not the right course. 
 
 I have already endeavored to point out 
 the immense importance of a high standard 
 of female health ; and that very much de- 
 
27 
 
 pends upon the manner in which girls are 
 brought up, I think you must be convinced. 
 The great question now is, what is the best 
 plan to be adopted ? This is easily an- 
 swered. Be guided by the simple dictates 
 of nature, and the experience of ages. 
 Think you the lamb would thrive and grow, 
 if shut up and deprived of the use of its 
 limbs by fetters ? Will not the most illite- 
 rate shepherd answer you that it would not ? 
 Nature requires that it should breathe the 
 fresh air, and nip the green grass while 
 moistened with dew, and that its limbs 
 should be strengthened by motion. Expe- 
 rience also teaches that it must be led away 
 from the noxious damps of marshy grounds, 
 and allowed to gambol among the rocks and 
 precipices of the mountains. But you will 
 ask me, perhaps, what resemblance is there 
 between a brute animal and a human being ? 
 I answer, as it respects their bodies, the 
 resemblance is, in many respects, very 
 great. Take, then, an example from our 
 own species : compare the female Indians 
 of our country, who roam through the for- 
 ests, as free from disease as the wild deer 
 that furnishes their food and clothing, with 
 the daughters of ease and luxury in our 
 cities : or, if you please, compare the rosy- 
 cheeked daughters of our farmers ; or even 
 
28 
 
 the accomplished, intellectual Di. Vernons 
 of England, with the delicate, nervous 
 misses of our large towns. What has oc- 
 casioned the difference ? Why, you will 
 unhesitatingly answer, the manner in which 
 they are brought up. And what have they 
 gained by the manner in which they have 
 been brought up? A tolerable knowledge 
 of several of the fine arts, music and dan- 
 cing, and a sufficiency of general learning, 
 together with refinement of manners, to fit 
 them for intercourse with well educated 
 persons, or to appear in polished society. 
 All this, I admit, is valuable; but what 
 have they lost ? That alone which can 
 make the above accomplishments a source 
 of pleasure to themselves and others — per- 
 fect health. And cannot this last be pre- 
 served at the same time that the mind is 
 cultivated ? Unquestionably it can ; and it 
 shall be my business to point out to you the 
 means of accomplishing both these objects. 
 In the first place, females, from their 
 earliest years, should be allowed those 
 sports and amusements in the open air, so 
 necessary to a proper development of their 
 bodies, and which are now confined entirely 
 to boys. Instead of being constrained to 
 walk demurely, with measured steps, like so 
 many matrons, they should be encouraged in 
 
29 
 
 running and romping at suitable times; and 
 that the motions of their limbs may be un- 
 constrained, their dress should be always 
 loose and easy. For instance, until they 
 are fourteen or fifteen years old, they should 
 be allowed to play in the open air at least 
 six hours every day, when the season and 
 weather wdll permit. They should be al- 
 lowed to run, leap, throw the ball, or play 
 at battle-door, as they please. All these 
 exercises call the different muscles into ac- 
 tion, strengthen the limbs, and impart a 
 healthy tone to the different organs ; the 
 blood circulates freely, the nervous system 
 is invigorated, and the redundant fluids are 
 driven off by perspiration. The most suit- 
 able dress is unquestionably that which is 
 called Turkish, consisting of trowsers, and 
 a short frock, and the covering for the head 
 should be light and cool : a straw hat an- 
 swers the purpose very well. They should 
 never be confined to their tasks to exceed 
 six hours a day, and I am confident they 
 will learn more in that time, if properly 
 managed, than they wdll in twelve, without 
 sufficient exercise. Make it your own 
 case : can you spend even eight hours a day 
 in study, to any profit ? I suspect not. The 
 mind becomes weary, and then nothing is 
 retained. How then can you suppose that 
 
30 
 
 the expanding faculties of children, can 
 be constantly exercised for that length of 
 time to advantage ? But admit that they 
 can be profitably kept upon the stretch for 
 twelve hours, and that the mental faculties 
 can be fully developed by this means at the 
 age of sixteen, and admit that the faculties 
 can not only be developed, but the mind 
 stored with a vast collection of useful 
 knowledge ; what will be the state of the 
 neglected corporeal part, the casket which 
 must contain this polished gem? Why, it 
 will be yet in its infancy, imperfect in its 
 form, and feeble for want of employment : 
 yet more — it will be the seat of disease, and 
 wear the undoubted marks of premature 
 decay. Depend upon it, too much attention 
 is paid to the culture of the minds of chil- 
 dren, and too little to that of their bodies. 
 Do not misunderstand me, or suspect me of 
 undervaluing the former, or of overrating 
 the latter. Certainly the first can never 
 make us happy in this world without the 
 second. I mean, simply, that parents are 
 too fond of forcing genius at an early age, 
 and thus ruining the health. Some parents 
 feel mortified, if their little ones cannot 
 read tolerably at six, and be well acquainted 
 with grammar and geography at ten; and 
 they seem to forget entirely that even if all 
 
31 
 
 this be accomplished, there is no probabihty 
 whatever of their being a single step in ad- 
 vance at the age of twenty-five, of those 
 who have not learned to reaii before eight, 
 or become acquainted with* grammar and 
 geography before twelve. I do not mention 
 this as an argument against commencing 
 their education in infancy ; far from it ; for 
 the intellect is improved and developed by 
 exercise, as I have already said, like the 
 body. I only wish to show that neither 
 should be neglected, and that the perfect 
 development of the one is not inconsistent 
 with that of the other. But I would go one 
 step further. Inasmuch as all enjoyment in 
 this life, and even the full force of the mind, 
 depend upon the entire health of the body, 
 it would be safer to direct the principle at- 
 tention to the latter, till it shall have arrived 
 at maturity, than to run the risk of its being 
 neglected in the cultivation of the former. 
 The mind can be brought to a high pitch of 
 excellence, even when the work is not com- 
 menced till the age of twenty ; but if the 
 body be neglected till this period, it is not 
 only incapable of acquiring its natural pow- 
 ers, but speedily suffers from disease. 
 
 It is a silly notion with some persons, that 
 if little girls are allowed to run and play at 
 the different games now principally confined 
 
32 
 
 to boys, they will necessarily become rude 
 and boisterous ; and so health must be sacri- 
 ficed to affected decorum. Far be it from 
 me to wish to encourage customs or habits 
 which would detract in the least from the 
 gentle and amiable manners for which my 
 fair countryw^omen are deservedly celebra- 
 ted. But I do insist upon it that they may 
 enjoy, if properly educated, a tolerable de- 
 gree of Spartan health without losing fe- 
 male gentleness, or acquiring the masculine 
 character of the Spartan females. It will 
 be recollected that I wish to give them the 
 healthful exercises of that hardy race with 
 the mental refinement of the moderns. The 
 Spartan women were accustomed almost 
 from infancy to run, wrestle, throw the dart, 
 and dance and sing. These invigorated 
 their bodies ; but then they were taught to 
 perform these exercises half naked, and in 
 the presence of the other sex, to which 
 may doubtless be attributed their want of 
 sensibility, and the masculine turn of mind 
 which characterized them. '' Les filles de 
 Sparte ne sont point elivees comme celles 
 d'Athenes : on ne leur present point de se 
 tenir renfermee de filer le laine, de s'abste- 
 nir du vin et d'une nourriture trop forte : 
 mais on leur apprend a danser, a chanter, a 
 luttcr entre elles, a courer legerement sur le 
 
33 
 
 sable, a lancer avec force le palet ou le jave- 
 lot, a faire tons leurs exercises sans vaile et 
 demi niies, en presence des Rois, des magis- 
 trals et de tons les citoyens, sans en excep- 
 ter meme les jeunes garcons." — Voyage du 
 Jeune AnacJiarsis. 
 
 Constant exercise and amusement in the 
 open air then, may be set down as the first 
 thing to be attended to in the physical edu- 
 cation of girls as well as boys, and when 
 they are confined to the house by inclement 
 weather, they should be allowed to enjoy 
 their sports in a large airy apartment ; and 
 here I will remark, that there is no in-door 
 exercise I can so strongly recommend as 
 dancing, for it imparts at the same time 
 strength to the body, and ease and graceful- 
 ness to its movements ; besides, as most 
 children who are taught dancing are very 
 fond of it, it encourages cheerfulness and 
 good humor, so conducive to their health, 
 and I cannot conceive a more rational or de- 
 lightful employment for a mother, when the 
 weather confines her little ones within doors, 
 than spending an hour or two each day at 
 the piano, while they with happy counte- 
 nances move around her in unison with the 
 music. An hour or two may be well em- 
 ployed in this way between breakfast and 
 dinner, and the same time in the evening. 
 
34 
 
 In order to derive the full benefit from this 
 delightful exercise, so suitable for the spring 
 time of our existence, it should be in a large 
 room, with the windows open in mild wea- 
 ther, and in one without a fire in it in winter, 
 for then your children will have fresh air, 
 and not become immoderately heated. 
 
 Thus far have I spoken in general terms, 
 but if I were to lay down definite rules, they 
 would be the following : Let your children 
 rise at sunrise in summer, and at break of 
 day in winter. This is what they are always 
 inclined to do if left to themselves, and their 
 habits are not vitiated. Let them be washed 
 all over with a little soap and soft water. 
 The water should be always of the tempera- 
 ture of the cistern or well from which it is 
 taken. This will purify the surface, and is 
 refreshing to the whole system in warm wea- 
 ther, and invigorating in cold. Let them 
 amuse themselves a little while before break- 
 fast, especially in the open air in summer, 
 but the breakfast must not be deferred too 
 long, as the appetite will become too keen, 
 and they will eat more than they require. 
 The breakfast should consist of milk, bread, 
 potatoes, and similar articles, to which may 
 be added a suitable quantity of butter and 
 molasses. Meats of all kinds, and coffee 
 and tea they should never taste. Between 
 
35 
 
 breakfast and dinner, three hours may be 
 given to study, and the rest devoted to active 
 sports. The dinner must not be at a fashion- 
 able hour, but from twelve to two o'clock ; 
 at all events it should not be so late as to 
 allow them to get excessively hungry, and 
 should be of the simplest fare — bread, all 
 kinds of cooked vegetables, and a very mo- 
 derate allowance of animal food. In hot 
 weather this last should be omitted alto- 
 gether, and milk substituted in its place. 
 After dinner, three hours may again be devo- 
 ted to study, and the rest of the day to active 
 amusements. The supper should be no- 
 thing more than bread and milk, rice and 
 milk, mush made of Indian corn and milk, 
 and food of a similar description. They 
 should not set up too long after supper, but 
 retire to bed as soon as they are sleepy. 
 This will commonly be at an early hour, (if 
 they rise when they ought to,) for young per- 
 sons require more sleep than those who have 
 arrived at maturity. They should never 
 sleep on feathers in summer, or be too 
 warmly covered at any time. A hair mat- 
 tress is probably the best bed the year round. 
 Their sleeping apartment should not be con- 
 fined, but airy, a^^d every thing belonging to 
 it should be kept in the neatest possible 
 manner. These rules I would not only en- 
 
36 
 
 force while children are very small, but till 
 they arrive at maturity. They are the means 
 of promoting health at eighteen as well as 
 at eight, and if properly followed up will 
 seldom fail of success. 
 
 I cannot leave this part of the subject 
 without adding something more on the prac- 
 tice of early rising. It is a mistaken idea 
 with many, that it isof no consequence what 
 time they retire to rest, or get up in the morn- 
 ing, provided they are not too long in bed; in 
 other words, it is all the same whether they 
 commence the day with the sun, or three or 
 four hours after him. Now these persons 
 are probably ignorant that light is a most 
 powerful stimulant to the whole vegetable 
 and animal creation, and that at its first 
 dawning in the east all nature bespeaks its 
 influence. It gives the vegetable world its 
 verdure — bids the flowers expand — calls 
 forth the notes of the feathered songsters, 
 and wakens all animated nature to a con- 
 sciousness of its existence. What can be 
 more beautiful than that description of sun- 
 rise and the influence of light, in the Sea- 
 sons : — 
 
 ** But yonder comes the powerful King of Day 
 Rejoicing in the east. The lessening clouds, 
 The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
 Illum'd with fluid gold. Lo, now apparent all 
 
37 
 
 Aslant the dew — bright earth and colored air, 
 
 He looks ID boundless majesty abroad, 
 
 And sheds the shining day — that burnished plays 
 
 On rocks and hills and towers and wandering streams, 
 
 High gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer, Light! 
 
 Of all material beings first and best! 
 
 Efflux divine." 
 
 There is also a freshness in the morning 
 air peculiarly conducive to health, and the 
 satisfaction which all experience from early 
 rising, who are accustomed to it, has the un- 
 doubted effect of promoting cheerfulness, 
 and that self-complacence which is produced 
 by a consciousness of fulfilling the high des- 
 tiny of our creation. 
 
 "Let me enquire," says an interesting 
 writer, '' what have been your feelings when 
 peculiar circumstances of business, or other 
 sufficiently strong inducements have led you 
 to rise earlier than usual ? Have you not 
 been surprised at your first insensibility 
 wdiich could suffer you to lose so much valu- 
 able time ^ Have you not despised yourself 
 for having yielded to what is generally called 
 an indulgence^ but what you have found to be 
 a complete obstacle to the most exquisite of 
 all indulgencies f Have you not, in spite of 
 your recollections of first habits, experienced 
 something like a sentiment of contempt for 
 those who were still immured in sleep, in- 
 stead of exerting the faculties with which 
 D 
 
38 
 
 nature has endowed them, who were '* toss- 
 ed in a sea of dreams" instead of employ- 
 ing their judgments at a time when they 
 are most capable of exercise ?" Early 
 rising then, is unquestionably conducive to 
 mental as well as corporeal vigor, and it is 
 the duty of every mother to teach her chil- 
 dren the impropriety of indulging in sleep, 
 when every other animal naturally obeys the 
 summons to activity. 
 
 *' Falsely luxurious — will not man awake, 
 
 And springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy 
 
 The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour 
 
 To meditation due, and sacred song? 
 
 For is there aught in sleep to charm the wise ? 
 
 To lie in dead oblivion — losing half 
 
 The fleeting moments of too short a life, 
 
 Total extinction of th' enlightened soul? 
 
 Or else to feverish vanity alive, 
 
 VVildered and tossing through distempered dreams? 
 
 Who could in such a gloomy state remain 
 
 Longer than nature craves?" 
 
 To every school for girls I would have at- 
 tached a large play ground, where they 
 should amuse themselves as they please for 
 five or six hours every day — six hours might 
 be closely applied to their studies and needle 
 work, &c. They should rise early, and go 
 to bed early, and their food should be of 
 the simplest kind. I am decidedly in favor 
 of Calisthenics, but exercises of this sort 
 
39 
 
 should never be insisted on when they grow 
 irksome. It is necessary that the exercises 
 should be relished, as are the ordinary 
 games, such as ball, battle-door, &c. or they 
 will do comparitively but little good. When 
 children are left to choose their own sports, 
 they enjoy them most. It is very common 
 for little girls who show any precocity of 
 talents, to be stimulated by every induce- 
 ment that can possibly be held out to them, 
 to extraordinary application to their studies, 
 and when they have a fondness for learning, 
 their health is not unfrequently sacrificed by 
 entirely neglecting the body for the embel- 
 lishment of the mind. I have often wit- 
 nessed the pride and satisfaction with which 
 parents have spoken of the intellectual ac- 
 quirements of a favorite daughter, when at 
 that moment, her whole appearance bespoke 
 to the observing eye, a constitution serious- 
 ly impaired by the unremitting labor those 
 acquirments had cost her. 
 
 In 182-, I was consulted respecting the 
 
 health of Miss . She had from the 
 
 age of six or seven, exhibited uncommon 
 abilities for a child, and though one of 
 a large family, was decidedly a favorite of 
 her father, who was a man of highly res- 
 pectable literary attainments. Conscious 
 as she must have been at an early period, of 
 
40 
 
 his fondness, it seemed the greatest pleasure 
 of her life, to merit his approving smile, 
 and as nothing pleased him so much as her 
 rapid progress in learning, she gave her 
 whole soul to her studies with a devotedness 
 truly astonishing. When eight years old, 
 the quantity of poetry (of which she was re- 
 markably fond) she had committed to memo- 
 ry, and rehearsed with a great deal of taste 
 and expression, was almost incredible, and 
 as she sat upon her father's knee, repeating 
 the sweet strains of Cowper, Mrs. Hemans, 
 and others, it was easy to see the mingled 
 emotions of pleasure and parental affection 
 which they excited. 
 
 I pass over several years with the bare 
 mention of her uniform success in obtaining 
 the first prizes at school, and come to a 
 period that has a more immediate bearing 
 
 on our subject. Miss had attained her 
 
 eighteenth year, was rather tall, but very 
 spare and delicate ; her complexion was fair, 
 and her large blue veins w ere very apparent 
 about her neck and arms; her eye was ani- 
 mated and full of expression ; her voice in 
 ordinary conversation was peculiarly soft and 
 melodious, and the remarkable sweetness 
 of her temper was perceptible at the first 
 glance. Her person I will not minutely des- 
 cribe — it would be dwelling too long upon 
 
41 
 
 the casket, when the gem it contains should 
 at once rivet the attention. 
 
 Her mind was truly a gem of the first 
 order, possessing those native qualities which 
 alone can give intrinsic value. It had re- 
 ceived all the improvement which the most 
 unwearied labor could bestow upon it, or 
 even a father's heart could desire, and now 
 shone forth in all the perfectness of its 
 splendor. But alas, it was like the meteor's 
 blaze, which appears for a moment, and then 
 vanishes forever. Her father had indeed 
 gained a prodigy, but lost a child. Need I 
 tell the sad sequel of her tale — it is what all 
 have witnessed, and what may be told of 
 thousands. A slight cough gave the first 
 warning of the impending calamity, but her 
 whole appearance exhibited to the practised 
 eye, a constitution ruined by neglect of ex- 
 ercise and incessant application to study, 
 and the advances of that relentless disease, 
 consumption, were indeed too visible ; but 
 assuming all the mildness and gentleness of 
 character for which its victim was remarka- 
 ble, it seemed to take from her all fears of its 
 certain consequences and final termination. 
 Still her fondness for those intellectual pur- 
 suits which had so much embellished the 
 spiritual part, while its frail covering had 
 been gradually fretted out, w^as unabated; 
 
42 
 
 still she seemed wrapt in a bright vision 
 that was erelong to be interrupted, and could 
 with difficulty be induced to pay any atten- 
 tion to her health. Why should she ? She 
 felt no pains, and she could discover in her- 
 self no indications of disease. A slight cold 
 would account for her cough — her appetite 
 was as usual — her spirits were undiminished 
 — and to convince her that a fatal disease 
 was already fastening upon her, was to con- 
 vince her against the evidence of her own 
 senses. 
 
 Still, however, the destroyer was gaining 
 ground, but so silently, so stealthy, that no 
 alarm was excited ; indeed, he seemed to 
 facinate the object of his wiles as the ser- 
 pent does the harmless bird that it decoys to 
 destruction, beguiling her with the mock 
 roses and lilies under which he lay concealed, 
 . till she should yield unhesitatingly lo his 
 deadly embrace. 
 
 Among all the diseases that prey upon 
 human life, none are so false and deceitful 
 as consumption. It singles out the fairest 
 and most delicate part of creation for its 
 victims, and alas, too often foils all the ex- 
 ertions and ingenuity of man to arrest its 
 progress. Inflammations, fevers, and a host 
 of other maladies, attack us openly, and with 
 a degree of boldness that at once puts us on 
 
43 
 
 our guard ; but consumption is a concealed 
 enemy, that silent and unsuspected gets 
 possession of the citadel, and slowly carries 
 on the work of destruction at the very seat 
 of life. 
 
 But I am wandering from my subject, and 
 fain would I leave the rest untold. Though 
 short, it is full of melancholy — though the 
 fate of thousands, it is not the less replete 
 with painful interest, for who can behold one 
 so young, so intellectual, and so lovely, 
 decked with false roses as for her bridal, and 
 calmly and unconcernedly descending step 
 by step, to the gloomy mansion, and not be 
 moved ? Suffice it to say, no human efforts 
 could delay the fatal moment, but her lovely 
 spirit shone brightly to the very last, and 
 when its frail tenement was no longer wor- 
 thy to retain it, it was gently released almost 
 without a struggle or a moan. 
 
 I have seen life suddenly extinguished by 
 some unforeseen event — I have seen it rush- 
 ing forth in a deluge of blood, and in infancy, 
 in the middle aged, and in the old have I 
 seen it long holding a fearful strife with an 
 overpowering disease, reluctant to yield 
 even when forced to do so ; but seldom have 
 I seen it so sweetly breathed out, if I may 
 so speak, as in this instance. 
 
 Before closing my remarks on the educa- 
 
44 
 
 tion of females, I will give you a case which 
 has appeared to me well calculated to show 
 the pernicious effects of misguided parental 
 affection, and the power of nature in repair- 
 ing in some measure the injury she has sus- 
 tained under certain circumstances. Such 
 cases are undoubtedly rare, for either the 
 health is irreparably destroyed by similar 
 treatment during childhood, or else the con- 
 dition of the individual prevents the appli- 
 cation of the only efficacious remedy. 
 
 Mrs. P was born of very respectable 
 
 parents, both of whom were remarkably 
 amiable, and she had the misfortune to be 
 the oldest of several children. Her mother 
 was one of those anxious, timid women, 
 always looking out for sickness and acci- 
 dents, and excessively alarmed at the most 
 trifling indication of disease, or the least 
 casualty. She early imbibed the idea that 
 her first-born, Fanny, had an excessively 
 delicate constitution, and would require all 
 the care and assiduity that could possibly be 
 bestowed upon her, to bring her to maturity. 
 This probably arose in some measure from 
 her being rather smaller than most children, 
 and from her having been occasionally vi- 
 sited by some of the complaints peculiar to 
 infancy. 
 
 If Fanny coughed or cried, or was disin- 
 
45 
 
 clined to eat, or was restless at night, her 
 mother was sure she w^as ill, and flew imme- 
 diately to the medicine chest for hive syrup, 
 paragoric, or castor oil, and if the child did 
 not soon appear entirely well in spite of 
 this dosing, the doctor was summoned 
 forthwith. She was not allowed to breathe 
 the fresh air, even in mild weather, for fear 
 of croup, and her stomach was kept so con- 
 stantly disturbed by some of the aforesaid 
 remedies, that nothing like healthy digestion 
 took place ; flatulence, acidity, and colic pains 
 were the consequence, and these were inva- 
 riably attributed to a naturally weak stomach, 
 forbiding the use of any thing but barley- 
 water and arrow-root. 
 
 In spite of all these hindrances she grew 
 up, but was in reality a very feeble girl. How 
 could she be otherwise ? But what is a little 
 remarkable is, that the mother so completely 
 concentrated all her anxious fears and un- 
 wearying attention in this first object of a 
 mother's affections, that her other children, 
 though brought up with sufficient care, com- 
 pletely escaped her pernicious officiousness, 
 and were comparatively robust. The mother 
 concluded from their general health that they 
 were blessed with good constitutions, and 
 required but little nursing, and as Fanny 
 was the idol to whom all her sacrifices were 
 
46 
 
 otfered, the younger sisters were early taught 
 to wait upon their elder, and being allowed 
 to exercise, eat, drink, and sleep something 
 as nature dictated, they grew up healthy 
 girls. 
 
 It is not a little surprising that with all this 
 petting, confinement, and dosing, which com- 
 monly sours the temper, poor Fanny sliould 
 have been tolerably good natured, not to say 
 amiable ; but she was really one of the most 
 kind-hearted, affectionate beings I ever saw, 
 and though her frame was very feeble, she 
 was perfectly free from any thing like dis- 
 ease. She was a living evidence of the 
 extent to which nature will be sometimes 
 thwarted in her purposes, though she is more 
 frequently quick to avenge man's mischiev- 
 ous interference in her works. Left to her- 
 self, she rarely fails to perfect what she has 
 commenced, but often interrupted, she in- 
 dignantly casts her task from her, as un- 
 worthy of being accomphshed. 
 
 At nineteen, Fanny was married to a man 
 of excellent character, who did all a kind 
 hearted husband could do to make her happy. 
 This, as will appear, was no easy matter. 
 When I became their physician, which was 
 at an early period of my practice, they 
 had two children, and Fanny was almost 
 constantly requiring my attendance. She 
 
47 
 
 was never in ray opinion dangerously ill, but 
 incessantly complaining. She was very thin, 
 pale, and feeble, and the least agitation 
 brought on the most distressing nervous at- 
 tacks, but I never could discover that she had 
 any fixed malady. She was often shut up in 
 her room for weeks together, with little or 
 no appetite, sleepless nights, and altogether, 
 in a most pitiable state of weakness. She 
 had at different times all the diseases which 
 ''flesh is heir to," (I mean in imagination,) 
 except perhaps small-pox, yellow fever, hy- 
 drophobia, and a few others, and often^ often 
 believed herself at the very point of death- 
 It would be utterly impossible for me to 
 enumerate the different times I have been 
 summoned to her, with an assurance on the 
 part of the messenger that she would not be 
 alive at my arrival unless I went with the 
 greatest possible despatch. But strange as 
 it may seem, in every instance I found her a 
 little relieved, though told that had I been a 
 few moments sooner I should have thought 
 her nearly in the last agonies. 
 
 The fact was, her nervous system was 
 so irritable, that the veriest trifle agita- 
 ted her, and then she would work herself 
 into the belief that her last moment had now 
 come. I am convinced it was no affecta- 
 tion or deception on her part, for nothing 
 
48 
 
 could be more foreign to her character than 
 to practice either. Her sufferings were all 
 real to her, for which reason I had patience 
 with her, and did all I could to calm and re- 
 lieve her, and her husband, good man, look- 
 ed upon her in exactly the same light that I 
 did, and instead of exercising any harshness, 
 did every thing in his power to please her, 
 for the least unkindness on his part operated 
 so excessively on her sensitive mind, that he 
 found it best as much as possible to avoid it. 
 
 All my arguments failed to induce her to 
 take regular exercise abroad, a thing indeed 
 that she never had done, and though I strong- 
 ly advised her not to drink tea, she found 
 such temporary satisfaction from it, that she 
 could not resolve to lay it aside. She told me 
 that she knew strong tea was poison to her, 
 and that if sufficiently strong, it would ren- 
 der her for a time, delirious, yet she insisted 
 that weak tea was not hurtful to her, and 
 furthermore, that she could not live with- 
 out it. 
 
 This was queer reasoning ; for according 
 to this principle a poisonous substance may 
 destroy life if taken in a certain quantity, 
 but habitually taken in minute doses, it is 
 not only harmless, but conducive to health. 
 
 Absurd as this may seem, it is just the way 
 some people reason on a thousand other sub- 
 
40 
 
 jects. How often have I been told that a 
 little brandy was useful to promote digestion, 
 and moderate lacing a support to the body ; 
 yet where is the person who will deny that 
 too much of either of them will destroy life* 
 1 know that it will be objected, that immo- 
 deration in any thing will do the same. I 
 grant it, but the point which I insist upon is 
 this ; the same course of reasoning will 
 not apply to the food and clothing which na- 
 ture, or common sense if you please, points 
 out as necessary, and to those things, the use 
 of which is entirely artificial ; a proper use 
 of the former is beneficial, any use what- 
 ever of the latter must be more or less 
 hurtful, and observation proves the correct- 
 ness of this position. 
 
 Fanny was a fond mother, and whenever 
 either of her children happened to be at all 
 indisposed, her fears were immediately 
 transferred from herself to them, and she 
 became really one of the most unhappy 
 beings imaginable. She could neither eat, 
 sleep, nor for a moment leave them, till she 
 fancied they were better, and then, exhaust- 
 ed by her anxiety and exertions, she inevita- 
 bly took to her bed, which she sometimes 
 could not leave again for weeks. 
 
 When consulted by her, the first question 
 she usually put to me was — '' Well, Doctor, 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 is it possible for me ever to recover ?" Ao 
 assurance from me that she was not in a dan- 
 gerous state, commonly produced the reply, 
 '* I have always been so feeble that I am sure 
 I cannot survive a great while, and it appears 
 to me that every ill turn is more severe than 
 that which preceded it." 
 
 She would sometimes ask me with the 
 greatest solemnity of manner, if I thought 
 she would live many days, and I have not 
 unfrequently found it very difficult to main- 
 tain my gravity in answering her. 
 
 To have lightly treated her fears, would 
 have been to wound her feelings, and irre- 
 trievably lose her confidence. Her mental 
 sufferings were exceedingly great, and know- 
 ing as I did, that they depended upon the 
 debility of the body, I had no disposition to 
 ridicule them, or think them undeserving of 
 attention and sympathy. 
 
 It was melancholy thus to see a young fe- 
 male deprived of health, and almost every 
 enjoyment of life, and dragging out a painful 
 existence in consequence of the misplaced 
 cares of one of the best disposed mothers, 
 and without any probability of her being es- 
 sentially benefitted by my prescriptions* 
 
 But at length a reverse of fortune, as 
 most persons would call it, proved to bo 
 any thing but a reverse to her, and did 
 
51 
 
 more than ^11 the medicines that could be 
 advised* 
 
 Her husband sustained some losses, and 
 was compelled to seek a less expensive 
 mode of living. He sold his property for 
 the benefit of his creditors, and with the 
 trifle which remained to him, went to a new 
 settlement not many miles off, purchased a 
 piece of land, erected a log house, into which 
 he moved his family, and applied himself to 
 the task of clearing up a new farm* 
 
 His wife saw the necessity of the change, 
 and did not murmur ; but it was hard for her 
 to leave the neighborhood of that affection- 
 ate mother to whom she thought she owed a 
 debt of gratitude she could never be able to 
 cancel, but to whom, in fact, she owed all 
 her sufferings. 
 
 To keep even a single servant now, was 
 out of the question, and she was com- 
 pelled by stern necessity, to make exertions 
 which she had never before attempted. The 
 affairs of her little log tenement were to be 
 managed by her, or not at all, and I must 
 do her the credit to say, considering the life 
 she had always lived, and the extreme deli- 
 cacy of her frame, she commenced her do- 
 mestic labors with a degree of fortitude that 
 was really surprising. At first she could do 
 but little at a time, without lying down to 
 
52 
 
 rest herself ; and many were the hours spent 
 in tears, and dark bodings of the future. 
 But her health and strength slowly improv- 
 ed, and though she now and then gave up 
 and took to her bed, the state of her house 
 soon forced her from it, and after struggling 
 on in this way for nearly two years, she at 
 length found herself sufficiently strong to 
 conduct her concerns with considerable ease, 
 and her husband discovering that her exer- 
 tions were doing her more good than all the 
 doctors, thought it most prudent not to ease 
 her burdens, except by kind and encourag- 
 ing language, and finally saw her in the en- 
 joyment of tolerable health, justly consider- 
 ing the loss of property and the hardships it 
 had brought upon them, the greatest blessing 
 he could have received. That bad health 
 in this instance was entirely the effect of 
 early habits, was fairly proved. 
 
CHAPTER IIL 
 
 MEANS OF PRESERVING HEALTH. 
 
 BEAUTY DESIRABLE ITS INFLUENCE ITS PRESER- 
 VATION PERSONAL CLEANLINESS SIMPLICITY 
 
 OF DIET FRESH AIR. 
 
 That beauty is desirable, and well worth 
 preserving by those who possess it, can- 
 not admit of a doubt. It is desirable for 
 the plain reason that every thing is desi- 
 rable that can make us pleasing to others, 
 and the longer it can be preserved, the more 
 lasting is the pleasure which w^e are ena- 
 bled to impart. 
 
 All men are more or less sensible to fe- 
 male beauty— of course she who possesses 
 it, has the means of powerfully influencing 
 them to the performance of good or bad ac- 
 tions. '' There is nothing" says Addison, 
 ''that makes its way more directly to the 
 soul than Beauty, which immediately diffu- 
 ses a secret satisfaction and complacency 
 through the imagination, and gives a finish- 
 ing to any thing that is great or uncommon. 
 The first discovery of it strikes the mind with 
 an inward joy, and spreads a cheerfulness 
 and delight through all its faculties." 
 
 In order to have its full effect, beauty must 
 
54 
 
 be natural, and connected with perfect 
 health. A fair skin and rosy cheek are cal- 
 culated to excite admiration — but if it be 
 discovered that they are entirely produced 
 by paint, that admiration becomes disgust, 
 or if owing to disease, it is changed to pity. 
 
 The grand preservatives of beauty, are 
 the means which impart health to the body. 
 To enter into a full examination of all these, 
 would lead me perhaps further than your 
 patience would follow. But two or three of 
 the most important, viz. personal cleanli- 
 ness, simplicity of diet, and fresh air, I will 
 take up a little in detail. 
 
 The inhabitants of different countries 
 have very different ideas of personal clean- 
 liness. In the United States and England, 
 it principally consists in frequent changes of 
 linen, while in France and Italy more atten- 
 tion is paid to purifying the skin by means 
 of the bath. But strict cleanliness cannot 
 exist without both of these. 
 
 The reasons are, that the skin is every 
 where, except on the palms of the hands or 
 soles of the feet, pierced by innumerable 
 little holes, which are the mouths of a set of 
 curious little organs, which pour out upon its 
 surface an unctuous or oily fluid, which lu- 
 bricates it, and renders it soft and shining. 
 These organs are entirely different from the 
 
55 
 
 pores through which the fluid of perspira- 
 tion passes, and it is because the skin is ren- 
 dered oily by them, that the perspiration 
 (which resembles water) in warm weather 
 collects in drops, as on oiled silk or on oiled 
 paper. They are particularly large about 
 the forehead and nose, and their mouths 
 may be easily seen with a magnifying glass. 
 In some persons, those about the face become 
 obstructed, from the fluid which they form 
 being too thick to flow out, and collecting as 
 in a little sack, which is gradually distended, 
 and its contents assume the appearance of 
 curd. That part of it which fills the mouth 
 of the organ, from being exposed to the air, 
 turns black, and the skin around it is some- 
 times slightly inflamed, forming a pimple. 
 AVhen this is pressed between the points of 
 the fingers, the curdy matter is forced out, in 
 appearance much resembling a small white 
 worm with a black head. In fact, ignorant 
 persons suppose them to be worms, but 
 a magnifying glass shows what they really 
 are. 
 
 The greatest quantity of this oily matter 
 is poured out upon the skin in warm wea- 
 ther, and gives it a decidedly greasy feel, 
 especially on the face, and if water be 
 sprinkled on any part of the skin, it will 
 he seen to stand in large drops, instead of 
 
56 
 
 spreading equally, as on paper or dry linen- 
 Unless removed from the surface from time 
 to time, it accumulates, and causes light dust 
 to adhere to it, and if long neglected, ob- 
 structs its healthy function. 
 
 We have then two kinds of fluid constant- 
 ly exuding from the surface of the body — 
 the one resembling oil, the other water, and 
 when there is not sufficient attention paid to 
 cleanliness, the matters accumulated on it, 
 become less rancid, and impart a peculiar 
 ly disagreeable odour. The surface of the 
 skin is well calculated to favor these accu- 
 mulations, for on closely examining it you 
 will find that it is not even, but groved in all 
 directions by minute fissures, leaving be- 
 tween them little points or eminences called 
 pupillae. On the points of the fingers, these 
 are arranged in a circular manner, and very 
 visible. Now if you allow ink to dry on the 
 tips of the fingers, and then attempt tp rub 
 it off with a damp cloth, you will find that 
 you succeed only in part, for the ink in the 
 grooves or fissures is scarcely touched by 
 the cloth. This little experiment will show 
 you the impossibility of cleansing any part 
 of the body by mere wiping or rubbing, and 
 as plain water makes little or no impression 
 on any thing greasy, you will perceive the 
 necessity of using soap. In fact without a 
 
57 
 
 frequent application of soap and water to 
 every part of the skin, it cannot be kept 
 clean. 
 
 By changing the linen often, much of 
 the impurities which accumulate on the 
 skin may be rubbed off, but enough will 
 be left to clog its pores and debilitate 
 its minute vessels. Now what must we 
 think of those genteel people who never use 
 the bath, or only once or twice a year wash 
 themselves all over, though they change 
 their linen daily ? Why that, in plain En- 
 glish, they are nothing more or less than very 
 filthy gentry ; and you will find, if your ol- 
 factories are at all sensitive, whenever you 
 happen to be near them, and their perspira- 
 tion is a little excited by exercise, that they 
 have a something about them which laven- 
 der water and burgamot do not entirely con- 
 ceal. And what is this something? Why it 
 is simply the odour occasioned by the fluids 
 which are naturally poured out upon the sur- 
 face having become rancid, as I hare just 
 mentioned. In some persons owing to some 
 peculiarity in their constitution, this odour is 
 far more noticeable than in others, but it is 
 discoverable in a greater or less degree in 
 all, when they are heated by execcise, who 
 do not use frequent ablutions. There is one 
 fact connected with this subject, which is 
 
58 
 
 worthy of notice, and that is, that those per- 
 sons who have enough of this odour about 
 them to be perceptible to others when very 
 near them, are often unconscious of it them- 
 selves, and this above all things, should put 
 ladies on their guard. 
 
 In one instance I knew the attachment of 
 a gentleman to be actually broken off by the 
 impression made upon his senses at different 
 times. He was a man of strong feelings 
 and acknowledged that it so far destroyed 
 the high notion he had formed of the lady's 
 perfect purity of body and mind, that he 
 could never love her afterward: and I have 
 known several other instances of gentlemen 
 taking an unconquerable dislike to females 
 of estimable character from exactly the same 
 cause. 
 
 In making these remarks, I feel that I am 
 treading upon dangerous ground, and I al- 
 most tremble least my motives should be 
 suspected ; and I should be charged with 
 attempting to detract from the personal 
 charms of my fair country-women, but con- 
 scious of the rectitude of my intentions, I 
 risk their resentment for the sake of being 
 useful to them, and throw myself upon their 
 generosity, trusting that they will give me 
 the credit of wishing to increase female 
 loveliness, by explaining the causes which 
 
59 
 
 may impair it, and the means of obviating 
 them. 
 
 There are many individuals, especially 
 men, whose feet have a very offensive odour 
 in warm weather. In all these cases the 
 feet perspire excessively, and consequently 
 become tender, and have a par-boiled ap- 
 pearance whenever a good deal of exer- 
 cise is taken. In them, the perspirations 
 of the feet appear to have become changed 
 from the natural state, for after washing the 
 feet clean and putting on clean stockings, 
 and then being heated for a few hours, they 
 will be found to have the peculiar odour on 
 taking off the shoes. I have often been 
 consulted for this peculiarly unpleasant and 
 troublesome complaint, and have always 
 found it removable by the following means : 
 Wash the feet regularly every morning in 
 water at the temperature of the weather in 
 summer, and in that which has stood in a 
 warm room during the night in winter. A 
 little soap should also be used. In very hot 
 weather they should be washed both morn- 
 ing and evening, and the stockings should 
 be changed at least twice a week in win- 
 ter, and three or four times in summer. 
 There will be no more danger of taking cold 
 after the practice is once well commenced, 
 than from washing the face and hands. Wool- 
 
60 
 
 len stockings should never be used in warm 
 weather. By these means the offensive 
 smell is entirely removed, and the feet are 
 hardened, so that they will not suffer from 
 heat and exercise. I have known several 
 persons, at times quite unable to walk from 
 this tenderness of the feet, to be entirely 
 cured by the foregoing plan. 
 
 From the earliest ages, Eastern nations 
 have considered the warm bath as one of the 
 greatest luxuries. But with them it does 
 not merely consist in remaining for a certain 
 length of time immersed in warm water. 
 A variety of rubbing and frictions which 
 tend to purify the surface are also indispen- 
 sible. That it is one of the most pleasant 
 modes of promoting cleanliness and health, 
 cannot be doubted ; but as in our country it 
 is often attended with considerable incon- 
 venience, a good substitute for it is certainly 
 a desideratum. This we have, and within 
 the reach of every one. It consists of a basin 
 of water, soap, a sponge, and coarse toweL 
 In winter the water may be warm ; in sum- 
 mer it will answer at the temperature of the 
 atmosphere. The body should be first rub- 
 bed over with soap, and then thoroughly 
 washed with the wet sponge. Lastly, wiped 
 dry, and friction applied with the towel. 
 This will take but a few minutes, and should 
 
61 
 
 be done eveiy day, at least in warm wea- 
 ther. By these means, the beauty and 
 softness of the skin is preserved — the minute 
 vessels of the surface invigorated — and the 
 liability to checks of perspiration, and va- 
 rious unpleasant cutaneous eruptions pre- 
 vented. 
 
 Perhaps nothing will so long maintain 
 the appearance of youth, and, under all 
 circumstances, keep at a distance the 
 marks of age, as a strict attention to the 
 skin. 
 
 There is an absurd notion among some per- 
 sons which rests wholly in ignorance, that 
 washing the face with water, and still more 
 with soap and water, will injure the complex- 
 ion, when in fact it is the very best means of 
 preserving it, by imparting vigor to the skin, 
 and preventing its secreting apparatus from 
 being clogged ; and I am fully convinced 
 that under similar circumstances, she who 
 daily washes her face with fine soap and soft 
 water will look fresh and blooming, when 
 the face that has been rubbed with spirits, 
 cologne-water, flour, hair-powder, &c. is 
 faded and wrinkled. This is not merely my 
 opinion, but that of all eminent physicians ; 
 and you can easily determine in your own 
 mind whether they are better acquainted 
 with the nature of the skin, and the best 
 F 
 
62 
 
 means of preserving its health and beauty 5^ 
 than those who protest against soap and 
 water* 
 
 It is a matter of atonishment to me, that 
 English women, with their refined notions of 
 neatness in every other respect, should be so 
 blind, as it must be admitted they are, to the 
 necessity of a frequent use of the bath, or 
 even of its substitute, a thorough ablution 
 of the whole body. They know the use of 
 soap and water to the neck and arms, but 
 do not apply them as generally as they 
 ought to. That our women, though they so 
 unformly adopt English customs, should imi- 
 tate them in this respect, is not a little sur- 
 prising, for the following reason : The heat 
 of a large portion of our year far exceeds that 
 of England. Of course, the secretions from 
 the skin are proportionably increased, and 
 from the high temperature more readily be- 
 come rancid. All this clearly shows the 
 greater necessity of frequent washings. In 
 winter they are also necessary, for though 
 the secretions are then not as copious, they 
 do not cease altogether, and if not regularly 
 washed away, render the skin unhealthy and 
 liable to checks of perspiration from every 
 change of temperature. 
 
 From considerable observation, I am fully 
 convinced that most persons peculiarly sub- 
 
63 
 
 ject to colds, but otherwise enjoying ordi- 
 nary health, may in a great measure pro- 
 tect diemselves from them, by daily sponging 
 all (5ver with cold water. 
 
 It is stated that Sir Astley Cooper, the 
 first surgeon in Great Britain, who still en- 
 joys remarkable health for his time of life, 
 has for more than thirty years practised 
 sponging himself with cold water every morn- 
 ing, and when he was a hospital surgeon, he 
 did not hesitate to walk across the hospital- 
 yard to his carriage, in silk stockings and 
 pumps in the cold damp winter evenings, 
 after having spent some time in the warm 
 atmosphere of the wards, and very rarely 
 caught cold. 
 
 But I would not insist on personal clean- 
 liness as a preserver of health and beauty 
 alone. There is no doubt that it has a sal- 
 utary influence upon the mind. 
 
 ** E'en from the body's purity, the mind 
 "Receives a secret sympathetic aid." 
 
 It promotes cheerfulness, and that satis- 
 faction with ourselves which we always ex- 
 perience from practising what reason points 
 out as proper or useful. That cleanliness 
 powerfully influences the temper and con- 
 duct of children is well known to every mo- 
 ther. How often does simply washing the 
 
64 
 
 face and hands, and a change of clothes put 
 them in good humor, when they have been 
 playing in the dust and heat till they are out 
 of temper, and there is no doubt that the 
 same thing has a similar effect on adults. 
 I recollect the case of an excessively irrita- 
 ble man, who managed to keep himself in a 
 tolerable humor by repeatedly changing his 
 linen every day. If any thing unpleasant 
 occurred, he would hurry off to his cham- 
 ber to change his linen before he got in a 
 passion. 
 
 In warm weather I have thousands of 
 times remarked the delightfully refreshing 
 effects of washing all over in cold water, 
 particularly on first rising after a sultry 
 night, and I can speak from several years 
 daily experience of the happy effects of these 
 ablutions upon the spirits. 
 
 If I have succeeded in convincing you of 
 the immense importance of personal clean- 
 liness in its strictest sense, especially to fe- 
 males, need I use any further arguments to 
 persuade the mother of several daughters to 
 impress the same upon their tender minds, 
 not only by precept, but by what is far more 
 efficacious — example ? 
 
 Diet. It is a common remark among peo- 
 plc,that such a thing is bad for the complex- 
 ion, and such a thing is bad for the teeth — but 
 
65 
 
 as far as I have observed, thes^ opinions are 
 very vague, and rarely founded on facts. 
 That different kinds of food and drink ex- 
 ercise a powerful influence in these respects, 
 there cannot be the least doubt. On this 
 point most medical men of eminence agree, 
 and I shall endeavor to lay before you a 
 few of the results of their observation. 
 
 In the first place, a healthy digestion is 
 absolutely necessary to a good complexion, 
 for whenever it is at all faulty, the skin im- 
 mediately shows it, though the individual 
 may not feel materially indisposed. 
 
 Too rich or too stimulating food invaria- 
 bly impairs the digestion, and consequently 
 injures the appearance of the skin. Now 
 the quality of the food required by every 
 individual, is indicated by his habits and em- 
 ployment. If accustomed to constant exercise 
 of the body, it should be nutricious. If sed- 
 entary and inactive, it should be much less 
 so. But young persons invariably do best 
 on the simplest and but moderately nutri- 
 tious fare. For instance — too large a pro- 
 portion of animal food and fatty substances 
 are pernicious to the complexion ; on the con- 
 trary, a diet principally vegetable, with the 
 luxuries of the diary, is most advantageous. 
 
 It has been observed by all travellers, that 
 no where are finer complexions to be found 
 
66 
 
 than in those parts of England, Ireland, 
 Scotland and Germany, where the living 
 is almost exclusively vegetable. Some, I 
 know, have attributed this entirely to cli- 
 mate; but an abundance of facts can be 
 produced, which prove that diet has also 
 considerable influence. 
 
 Opportunities are not wanting of mark- 
 ing the effects of certain modes of living 
 in our own country. I have known many 
 large families remarkable for the simplicity 
 of their food, whose clear skins and rosy 
 cheeks were the envy of all who saw them, 
 and I have seen complexions naturally good, 
 entirely spoiled by living too sumptuously. 
 An intimate friend of mine had a large 
 family of daughters whom he never in- 
 dulged in rich food, or in the use of cof- 
 fee or tea, and I have never seen finer 
 complexions or better teeth than theirs. 
 They are now, I believe, all married, and 
 have families, and they are still remarkable 
 for their health, and the retaining of their 
 freshness and youthful appearance. 
 
 A diet too rich or too stimulating, com- 
 monly renders the skin coarse, and subject 
 to pimples, and gives it a thick, rough and 
 greasy appearance. Sometimes, however, 
 it renders it pale, sallow and harsh. The 
 cheek may be red, but it is not the carnation 
 
67 
 
 tint of health — it more resembles the flush 
 of the dram-drinker, and arises from a sim- 
 ilar cause, viz. — too much stimulus. The 
 breath is apt to be offensive, and the teeth 
 bad. Those who eat immoderately of ani- 
 mal food, have almost invariably a disagree- 
 able breath, and even the perspiration from 
 every part of the body, has a heavy, un- 
 pleasant odour, while those who subsist en- 
 tirely on vegetable food have seldom if ever 
 a constantly bad breath, or offensive per- 
 spirations. 
 
 It has been ascertained that the teeth 
 are uniformly best in those countries where 
 the least animal food is eaten. In Ire- 
 land, Scotland, and some parts of Eng- 
 land and Germany, where the common 
 classes subsist almost entirely on bread, po- 
 tatoes, and other articles from the vegetable 
 kingdom, with milk and its products, they 
 have fine white teeth, and in districts in the 
 same countries, where any considerable 
 quantity of animal food is used, it is asserted 
 that the teeth are perceptibly less sound and 
 beautiful. 
 
 In no other civilized country is there any 
 thing like as much meat eaten as in our own, 
 and all agree that no other people have such 
 bad teeth as the Americans. I will not pre- 
 tend to say that this is entirely owing to our 
 
68 
 
 diet, but I have no doubt it may be princi- 
 pally attributed to it. I have often remark- 
 ed that a large proportion of Irish, on first 
 coming among us have good teeth, but after 
 residing here a few years, they turn yellow, 
 and decay nearly as much as our own. This 
 they commonly attribute to our climate, and 
 never suspect that a change from a diet of po- 
 tatoes and buttermilk to fresh meat three 
 times a day, can have any effect upon them. 
 
 I am fully convinced that the teeth are 
 far more influenced by diet than by cli- 
 mate. But to form an opinion from solitary 
 examples is the height of folly, or to sup- 
 pose that this or that mode of living is best 
 because certain individuals who have adopt- 
 ed it are healthy, is equally irrational. Just 
 conclusions can only be drawn from a great 
 mass of facts. Persons may be found who 
 have good teeth, and yet who eat little else 
 but animal food ; and others may be found 
 who have bad teeth, though they subsist en- 
 tirely on vegetables. This proves nothing. 
 But when you find the inhabitants of a sec- 
 tion of country who eat no meat, possessing 
 good teeth, and those of another who do eat 
 it, less favored in this respect, there is, to say 
 the least, a strong presumption that diet has 
 something to do with the difference. 
 
 It is supposed by many that sugar is inju- 
 
69 
 
 rious to the teeth, but I beHeve we have no 
 satisfactory evidence of its being so. This 
 notion has probably originated in the effect 
 of sugar on carious teeth, viz. — to produce 
 pain ; but upon this principle, cold water 
 must be bad also. It is not a little remark- 
 able, that nearly all warm blooded animals 
 appear to be fond of sacharine matter, and 
 thrive well on food containing a proportion 
 of it. 
 
 The blacks on the sugar plantations are 
 observed to grow rapidly fleshy, when the 
 season for grinding the corn arrives, and 
 those who have been sickly often recover 
 about the same time. That an immoderate 
 use of sugar, and food containing it, is un- 
 wholesome for delicate children, there can- 
 not be a doubt, for it tends to derange the 
 digestive organs ; but used in moderation, I 
 believe it to be perfectly innocent. It is pos- 
 sible, that loaf sugar and candies may some- 
 times injure the teeth by their hardness, 
 but in no other way, unless taken in such 
 large quantities as to derange the digestion. 
 
 All stimulating drinks, as wine, beer and 
 cider, (for I trust few girls among us ever 
 taste any thing stronger than these,) are 
 hurtful to the complexion, in a greater or less 
 degree ; but as the use of these articles is 
 comparatively trifling among our females, 
 
70 
 
 I leave them to speak of those, the effect?^ 
 of which are more to be dreaded. 
 
 I refer to tea and coffee — articles sanc- 
 tioned by established custom, and generally 
 supposed to be harmless. That they tend 
 to impair the digestive powers in persons of 
 inactive lives, is admitted by most physi- 
 cians, and I have already stated that nothing 
 ruins the complexion more surely than bad 
 digestion. But can you tell me what bene- 
 fit these two articles are to young persons ? 
 or why they use them ? I anticipate your 
 answer, for no other can be given. They 
 are of no benefit whatever, and are only 
 used because it is customary to drink them 
 twice a day, on the supposition that they are 
 not hurtful. But why indulge your children 
 in habits you admit to be useless, and which 
 very eminent men declare to be more or less 
 injurious ? Are you not the guardian of 
 their health? Have you not their future 
 happiness in your own hands, inasmuch 
 as their constitutions depend in a great 
 measure upon the manner in which you 
 bring them up ? And are you not accounta- 
 ble to them, to their oflfspring, and to your 
 Maker, for the manner in which you dis- 
 charge your duty to them ? It is not enough 
 that you guard them from apparent danger 
 — you must teach them to avoid those prac- 
 
71 
 
 tices that are even suspected of being dan- 
 gerous. 
 
 Now, inasmuch as tea and coffee are ad- 
 mitted on all hands to be useless for children, 
 and are strongly suspected, yes, even de- 
 clared by many of those most competent to 
 judge, to be hurtful to them, what excuse 
 can you have for allowing yours to drink 
 them? Perhaps you will ask me — What 
 shall I substitute in their place ? I answer, 
 a cup of milk, or a glass of water. These, 
 nature herself teaches, and experience con- 
 firms the same, are not useless but whole- 
 some. 
 
 Finally, what can you say to allowing 
 your children to indulge not only in tea and 
 coffee, but in the thousand high seasoned and 
 rich dishes which constantly appear on your 
 tables — the puddings, pies, and cakes, and 
 the sauces, sweetmeats and confectionary of 
 which they are so fond ? These you not 
 only know to be pernicious, but daily tell 
 them so while you permit them lo partake 
 of them. In doing so, you point out the 
 evil to them, at the same time you permit 
 them to fall into it. Can you acquit your- 
 self in this matter of gross inconsistency, 
 and of wantonly trifling with the health of 
 those w^ho should be dearer to you than life ? 
 
 How often have you said, when you were 
 
72 
 
 conscious you were doing wrong, *' Oh, let 
 them have a little of this or that," which 
 your good sense teaches you is unwholesome, 
 "I am sure it cannot hurt them," and '' they 
 are so fond of it." 
 
 I must confess I have no patience with 
 such childish management, and let me tell 
 you what you may calculate upon if you 
 persist in this course. First, repeated fits 
 of illness in your family, and long doctor's 
 bills. Second, feeble constitutions, and a 
 premature grave for some of them. Make 
 up your mind to spend anxious days and 
 sleepless nights, and months, and perhaps 
 years in mourning the untimely death of a 
 darling child. Will you then think me 
 harsh and unfeeling if I tell you, you have 
 brought all this suflfering upon yourself, and 
 upon the principles of retributive justice, 
 you richly merit it. Believe me, we are 
 oftener the immediate cause of the calami- 
 ties which come upon us, than we at all 
 suspect. 
 
 Fresh Air. Too much cannot be said in 
 favor of fresh air, as a means of preserving 
 beauty. In fact, it is as indispensibly ne- 
 cessary as proper food is to the maintenance 
 of health. But by fresh air I do not mean 
 that of the country only ; I use the ex- 
 pression in contradistinction to the con- 
 
73 
 
 fined air of close apartments, and of certain 
 situations. 
 
 It is very customary with many, to abuse 
 the air of the city, and to lay to its charge a 
 large share of our diseases. Some think 
 it unhealthy only duringthe summer months, 
 and others consider it but little better than 
 a slow poison the year round. These peo- 
 ple forget that the habits of the city are 
 widely different from those of the country, 
 that the living is more sumptuous, the exer- 
 cise less, and every species of dissipation 
 increased a thousand fold — and these are 
 not trifling differences; their operation is 
 far more general than would be at first 
 suspected, and is much oftener the cause 
 of disease than city air. 
 
 That the atmosphere of a large and pop- 
 ulous city is altogether less salubrious dur- 
 ing several months, than that of the coun- 
 try, there can be no doubt whatever ; but in 
 the winter, and a considerable part of the 
 fall and spring, I believe that in airy situa- 
 tions, it is nearly if not equally so. 
 
 One of the most apparent effects of fresh 
 air, is the ruddy tint w^iich it gives to the com- 
 plexion. To seclude a person from it, invari- 
 bly causes paleness. 
 
 Frequent changes from the atmosphere of 
 one place to that of another, have a marked 
 
 G 
 
74 
 
 influence upon the color of the face. It has 
 long been observed, that no class of men in 
 England have a more fresh, healthy appear- 
 ance than the stage-coachmen, who are con- 
 stantly passing from one part of the coun- 
 try to another, and no doubt this depends 
 in a great degree, upon frequent changes 
 of air. 
 
 Fresh air has a powerful operation upon the 
 skin, increasing the circulation of the blood, 
 in its minute vessels, and giving it that ver- 
 milion hue so necessary to beauty, and so in- 
 dicative of good health. 
 
 There is evidently a difference in the air 
 in this respect, at different periods within 
 the twenty-four hours. Early in the morn- 
 ing, it possesses a degree of purity and fresh- 
 ness that is very perceptible. A. morning's 
 walk for this reason, gives a brighter color to 
 the cheek than at any other time through 
 the day ; hence the propriety of those who 
 wish to look blooming being out early, and 
 borrowinjD^ their rou<]re from Dame Nature 
 herself. Certain it is, if this opportunity 
 be lost by indulgence in bed, the looks will 
 very soon show it. 
 
 In no other country do females fade at so 
 early an age as in ours, and no where do 
 they shut themselves uj) more the moment 
 they arc married. In their anxiety to be- 
 
75 
 
 come domestic, they forget the injury they 
 are doing to themselves and offspring, and 
 waste within doors that health and strength 
 which are indispensable to a proper discharge 
 of the duties of a mother. They evidently 
 dread being seen too often abroad, lest they 
 should be suspected of neglecting their fami- 
 lies, and they measure the extent to which 
 they discharge their duties by the number of 
 days or weeks since they have been from 
 home. Now this is not as it should be. — 
 The greatest benefit a mother can confer on 
 her children, is a good constitution, and she 
 cannot impart to them what she does not 
 possess herself; of course her first duty is 
 to preserve her own health, which she can- 
 not do in the confined air of two or three 
 apartments, and her example should teach 
 them the great importance of daily going 
 abroad, as a means of preserving both health 
 and beauty. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DANGERS OF TOO EARLY INTRODUCTION TO 
 SOCIETY. 
 
 GIRLS ADMITTED INTO SOCIETY AT AN EARLY PE- 
 RIOD IN AMERICA STATE OF THEIR SYSTEM, 
 
 AND EFFECTS OF IMMODERATE MENTAL EXCITE- 
 MENT SKETCH OF EARLY LIFE CRUELTY OF 
 
 ABRIDGING ITS PLEASURES WINTER AMUSE- 
 MENTS THEIR EFFECTS CASE OF MISS K . 
 
 It is a fact well known I believe to most 
 persons of tolerable information, that fe- 
 males are sooner introduced to society, and 
 contract earlier marriages in America than 
 in most other equally civilized countries. 
 At fifteen and sixteen they are often initiated 
 into all the mysteries of fashionable life. 
 At eighteen are belles, if ever ; and begin to 
 look forward with gloomy bodings of single 
 blessedness, if not married by twenty. 
 
 I need not mention that in France, Spain, 
 and Italy, the daughters of respectable per- 
 sons very commonly remain in a convent 
 prosecuting their studies till eighteen or nine- 
 teen; and in England, the period of entering 
 the gay world is seldom much before twenty. 
 Why it is they are considered women with 
 us so much sooner than abroad, is not my 
 
77 
 
 business to determine. But I shall attempt 
 to point out to you some of its consequen- 
 ces, at least as they have appeared to me, 
 and submit it to your good sense to decide 
 whether I am correct or not. 
 
 You must be aware that from the age of 
 fourteen to eighteen, is one of the most im- 
 portant periods in the life of the female. 
 The different parts of the body, as well as the 
 mental faculties, are then rapidly developing 
 themselves, and the nervous system shows a 
 greater degree of sensitiveness and irrita- 
 bility than at almost any other age. The 
 feelings are then easily wrought upon — the 
 passions readily excited — and the whole sys- 
 tem, both of body and mind, bespeaks the 
 great change which is taking place from 
 childhood to maturity. At such a period, 
 common sense would teach us the propriety 
 of carefully protecting the health from every 
 exposure, and above all things avoiding im- 
 moderate mental excitement. I do not say 
 the seclusion of a nunnery is necessary, but 
 I would insist upon the most perfect regu- 
 larity of habits, and entire seclusion from 
 every scene of gaiety and dissipation. The 
 innocent pleasures of their own fire-side, 
 under the watchful eye of a prudent mother, 
 are alone befitting such an age. 
 
 Examine for a moment the consequences 
 
78 
 
 of a premature introduction of these suscep- 
 tible beings to society. In the first place, 
 bad hours, the noxious atmosphere of crowd- 
 ed apartments, and the immoderate mental 
 excitement which is produced, are amply 
 sufficient, if often indulged in, to impair the 
 firmest health. Then what must be their 
 influence upon constitutions yet in a forming 
 state, and upon passions and faculties of the 
 mind just opening into existence ? I would 
 particularly direct your attention to immo- 
 derate mental excitement. I refer to its phy- 
 sical, and not to its moral effects. 
 
 Have you not seen your children lose their 
 appetite, when awaiting the moment of some 
 anticipated pleasure, and rise pale and lan- 
 guid after passing a sleepless night, prece- 
 ding a promised holiday ? These are but 
 simple instances; yet they show the opera- 
 tion of the mind upon the body, and believe 
 me, the excitement which a tender girl 
 at sixteen experiences in preparing for a 
 fashionable party, in entering the brilliant 
 circle, in receiving the bows and smiles, and 
 listening to the compliments of admirers, 
 in treading the mazy dance, while the eyes 
 of the crowd are fixed upon her ; in fact, in 
 all she says or does, must have the most in- 
 jurious effect upon lier sensitive frame, and 
 if too often repeated, infallibly produce that 
 
79 
 
 nervous irritability and weakness of the 
 whole system, so incompatible with health, 
 and so strongly characteristic of an immense 
 proportion of our fashionable women. 
 
 Sure I am that no mothers love their 
 children more fondly, more dotingly, than 
 those of my country, and lam equally sure, 
 that if they suspected even half of the dan- 
 ger and suffering to which they expose their 
 daughters by a premature introduction to 
 society, they would cheerfully sacrifice their 
 own pleasure for their good, and in the calm 
 retirement of domestic privacy, make it their 
 great study to give strength and energy to 
 their bodies and minds, and thus fit them 
 for the important parts they have to per- 
 form amid the trying realities of life. 
 
 When a young lady once commences the 
 fashionable career, she commonly makes no 
 farther progress in those studies which are 
 deemed necessary to fit her for society ; and 
 I appeal to your decision, whether a girl at 
 sixteen has usually acquired all that it is de- 
 sirable for her to know. The moment she 
 is admitted to society, her head is filled with 
 a thousand things no way connected with the 
 improvement of her mind ; new ideas, new 
 hopes, and new desires to attract attention, 
 now take the lead ; new passions are awa- 
 kened, vanity, envy, and an immoderate 
 
80 
 
 ambition to outshine others, are the natural 
 consequences ; for the mind cannot yet have 
 acquired strength sufficient to rise above 
 all these childish emotions, and the ner- 
 vous system, far from having acquired its 
 full tone, necesssarily suffers, — yes, sus- 
 tains irreparable injury, from the impulse 
 of passions prematurely called forth. 
 
 A healthy body is necessary to a sound 
 mind, and a mind properly disciplined un- 
 doubtedly has an invigorating effect upon 
 the body ; and further, we know that a dis- 
 ordered mind soon disorders the body, and 
 disorders of the body as soon deranges the 
 mind. Of course, immoderate mental ex- 
 citement must injure the health, and then 
 the mind must in its turn be the sufferer. 
 
 The plan of pushing children forward in 
 the world at an early period, is both unnatu- 
 ral and unkind. Look at them while they 
 are yet in the nursery, in all the mirthful in- 
 nocence of the spring time of their exis- 
 tence, frolicsome as the tender lamb, and 
 just as thoughtless of to-morrow's cares. 
 The heart o'erflows with gladness — to them 
 all nature seems to smile — the present is all 
 joy, the future anticipated bliss — and the 
 young imagination wrapt in enchanting 
 dreams, has never once sketched the faintest 
 shadow of life's cold realities. The feelings 
 
81 
 
 are all tender, the sensibilities easily awak- 
 ened, tears and smiles succeed each other 
 like April's sun and showers, love holds un- 
 rivalled empire in the breast, and the dire 
 train of dark unholy passions, as hatred, en- 
 vy and jealousy, have scarcely yet had birth. 
 Their hopes are bright, their friends sincere, 
 their pleasures unalloyed, and withering dis- 
 appointment that dries up the genial cur- 
 rent of the blood, and palsies all the move- 
 ments of the soul, is not so much as feared. 
 The animal machine, fresh from the hand 
 of Him who made it, most curious of all his 
 works, now perfect in every part, moves on 
 in matchless order if undisturbed by the offi- 
 cious arts of man. The appetite is keen, 
 and gives a delicious relish to the simplest 
 fare ; the sleep like that of angels, if angels 
 need repose ; the limbs just strong for ac- 
 tion, are only wearied by restraint ; the 
 heart beats light ; the eye is clear ; the ear 
 acute, and all the movements of this won- 
 derous frame are like the accordant vibra- 
 tions of the well tuned harp. No lingering 
 pains harass the nerves ; no chronic mala- 
 dies tease the half worn out organs ; nor 
 black despair, nor death-wooing melancholy 
 brood o'er the distempered brain. But joy 
 succeeds to joy in swift progression, and 
 pleasures once grown tame quickly give 
 
82 
 
 •9 
 
 place to those more fresh and fair. Say, 
 would you abridge this blissful period, would 
 you strike off a single year, or month, or 
 day, or yet an hour from life's only truly 
 happy stage ? Why then so soon compel 
 those lovely images of yourself to quit their 
 childish sports, their guileless joys, for the 
 less pleasing scenes of formal womanhood ? 
 Believe me, their merry dreams will soon 
 enough be broken ; yes, soon enough they 
 will feel the pains and cares with which the 
 world is filled. Let them dream on then 
 while the bright vision lasts, until the youth- 
 ful mind gets strength by age, to bear the 
 ills to which mortality is heir. Do you love 
 them ? I know you do. Would you save 
 them from every pain, that can be avoided ? 
 I know you would. Let them be children 
 then, while childhood lasts. Rob them not 
 of the little pleasure this life affords, nor 
 prematurely let them feel its countless woes. 
 To take them from the nursery to the draw- 
 ing room at fifteen ; expose them at sixteen 
 to the fawning lover's breath, that turns 
 their brain, destroys their health in anxious 
 flutterings, and makes them old before their 
 time, and wed them at eighteen, to load 
 them with a mother's cares, when they 
 should yet be in girlish loveliness, stran- 
 gers to the fire of love, is to rob them of 
 
83 
 
 years of innocent enjoyment, to shorten 
 the brief span of human happiness, and 
 often to sacrifice health and length of days 
 to the absurd, yes, barbarous custom of the 
 day, or to a mother's vanity in exhibiting a 
 daughter's precocity to the gazing world ? 
 Is this highly wrought? Does it border on 
 extravagance ? I leave it to your own ob- 
 servation and good sense to decide. 
 
 Perhaps there is no step a man can take 
 more likely to displease his friends than that 
 of condemning their social amusements. 
 Most persons will admit that drunkenness 
 will destroy the health, and gambling ruin 
 the estate ; but when you attempt to dissuade 
 them from amusements which they deem 
 innocent, you are interfering with what re- 
 lates to their happiness, and are apt to draw 
 upon yourself the epithet of Cynic. Before, 
 therefore, I go further, let me disclaim all 
 wish to diminish the social amusements of 
 any one, to mar a single moment that is de- 
 voted to rational pleasure, or to pluck a soli- 
 tary garland from the brow of happiness — 
 for heaven knows there is enough of sor- 
 row and care in this life, and the means of 
 beguiling them are few enough. 
 
 Rational amusements are conducive to 
 the health of both body and mind. They 
 refresh the weary frame, calm the ruffled 
 
84 
 
 passions, and make us more contented with 
 ourselves, and better satisfied with those 
 around us. To enjoy the society of our 
 friends may be counted one of the greatest 
 blessings of life, and he who cannot parti- 
 cipate in it, must be set down as one of the 
 most unfortunate of his species. But when 
 dissipation takes the place of reasonable in- 
 dulgence, the scene is changed, and both bo- 
 dy and mind must suffer. 
 
 In most of our large towns, the com- 
 mencement of winter is the beginning of the 
 season of gaity ; and for several months, 
 parties, bails and assemblies, constitute the 
 grand business of an immence proportion 
 of our fashionable females. To mention 
 how much time is spent with the mantua- 
 maker, how much is taken up in making ar- 
 rangements, and how much is devoted to 
 recounting all that has occurred, would be to 
 tell you what you already know ; but I will 
 endeavor to point out the effects of all this 
 upon your daughters, w^hich may have escap- 
 ed your notice, and from which, perhaps, 
 you may draw a useful lesson. 
 
 In the fall, when you return from the 
 country, observe the appearance of those 
 blooming girls, of whom I say, vt^ithout 
 flattery, you have reason to be proud; marl, 
 the rosy cheeks, the sparkhng eyes, theeA.u 
 
85 
 
 berant spirits, the ease and sprightliness of 
 all their movements, the fine appetite, and 
 the pkmipness and activity of health. The 
 first invitation which they receive to a large 
 party, puts them upon the tiptoe of expec- 
 tation. For several days all is bustle and 
 preparation. Nothing is thought of but 
 the dress that shall be worn, and the plea- 
 sures which will be realized. The meals 
 are almost forgotten, and the nights are 
 sleepless. At length the evening arrives, 
 and they are dressed, and so dressed — 
 pardon me if I say it — as efiectually to 
 prevent the natural respiration, for com- 
 fort at such a time must not for a mo- 
 ment be placed in competition w^ith appear- 
 ance. They enter the fashionable crowd ; 
 dancing and heated apartments give a 
 fresher bloom to their cheeks, and augment 
 the already immoderate mental excitement. 
 At midnight, the supper table makes its 
 appearance, and oysters, blanc mange, and 
 jellies are followed by nuts, dried fruits, 
 and wine, or a tolerable allowance of ice 
 cream. These things are eaten, but not 
 digested — for mental excitement in a great 
 measure suspends the digestion; and after 
 breathing an atmosphere polluted by breaths 
 and lamp smoke till 2 o'clock, they return 
 home. They retire to their beds, but do they 
 
 H 
 
86 
 
 sleep? No! The remainder of the niglil 
 is spent in restless tossing from side to side^ 
 and when they appear in the morning, they 
 are rather dull — have a slight head-ach — are 
 at little pale — have no appetite for breakfast, 
 and are really, to use a common expression, 
 good for nothing all day. Now^ it requires^ 
 no great penetration to discover that the last 
 night's amusement has not been conducive 
 to healthy to say the least ; and I think I 
 shall not be charged with exaggeration if I 
 assert that commonly two or three days are 
 required to do away entirely its effects. 
 
 But let us go on. They shall attend one 
 party a week through the winter, (and I be- 
 lieve that would not be called extravagant, 
 for a lady told me not long since, that she had 
 attended five in eight days;) and when the 
 spring arrives, compare your daughters with 
 what they were last fall. You find them 
 paler and thinner, and their appetites bad- 
 Is this owing to the cold weather ? It is ex- 
 actly the season that people who are not in 
 fashionable life have the best appetite, and 
 acquire flesh and color. They are languid 
 — their hands tremble, and their hearts pal- 
 pitate from the smallest exertion. They 
 are disposed to keep about the fire, and shi- 
 ver from the smallest exposure to cold air. 
 Their spirits are low, and they are inclined 
 
87 
 
 to be fretful, and your physician will tell you 
 that their pulse is quick and weak, their 
 tongue slightly coated, and the feeling of the 
 skin unnatural. Their systems are now, in 
 fact, in that weak and irritable state, in 
 which almost any disease may be produced 
 from very slight causes. 
 
 Here then, we have the physical effects 
 of a winter's dissipation. The city is next 
 condemned as an unhealthy place — the at- 
 mosphere pronounced to be actually noxious, 
 and nothing is heard of but the preparation 
 for escape to the country. I need not ask 
 you whether you think Ncav York less heal- 
 thy from November to June than the country, 
 but I wd!l unhesitatingly say, I believe it is not. 
 During the hot months, the air is contami- 
 nated by a vast variety of causes, but dur- 
 ing the winter, it appears to me as whole- 
 some as any village in the interior. 
 
 But to return to our subject. Your daugh- 
 ters hurry off to Catskill Mountains, Saratoga 
 Springs and the Falls, as soon as the roads 
 are good, and spend the summer in travel- 
 ling from place to place, admiring the works 
 of nature, and engaging in rural amuse- 
 ments, the great object being to repair the 
 injury their health has sustained during the 
 winter. But during this period is any atten- 
 tion paid to cultivating the mind by study? 
 
88 
 
 Oh no ! — there is no time for that ; so it may 
 justly be said, that both summer and winter 
 are spent in dissipation. The latter most 
 injurious to the health, but both operating 
 unfavorably upon the mind. Is it any won- 
 der, that a young lady at twenty, who has 
 passed her last four years as I have de- 
 scribed, should be incapable of conversing 
 about any thing else than the latest fashions, 
 the last novel, the bloods she has seen at the 
 
 Springs, Mrs. 's squeeze, &:c.; or be 
 
 only fit for the society of the insipid cox- 
 comb, whose head is as empty as her own? 
 In the fall she returns to the city with re- 
 newed health, and after another winter's 
 gaity, is in a condition to be benefitted by 
 another excursion to the country. 
 
 Now I wish you to answer me this one 
 question candidly : — Do you believe this 
 kind of life calculated to make good consti- 
 tutions? Can you for a moment suppose 
 that a jaunt during the warm months will 
 entirely remove the pernicious effects of dis- 
 sipation during the cold ones ? Though it 
 appears to, let me assure you it is far from 
 doing it. It may, indeed, postpone the in- 
 jurious tendency, but after a few years, it 
 loses in a great measure its marked effects, 
 and then you will see your children what 
 thousands around them are — weak, nervous. 
 
89 
 
 dyspeptic women, but illy calculated to per- 
 form the active duties of a wife, or the more 
 arduous ones of a mother. Look at their 
 emaciated forms, their faded complexions, 
 their bad teeth, and their feeble, listless mo- 
 tions, and tell me, yes, as their mother tell 
 me, who has brought upon them this prema- 
 ture decay ; who but that being, who, above 
 all others, should have guided them through 
 the years of thoughtlessness and inexperi- 
 ence, and have led them by precept and ex- 
 ample in that path which alone can ensure 
 entire health and happiness. 
 
 Call me not visionary, or attempt to meet 
 me with the stale excuses of " being in the 
 world," and the necessity of " doing as oth- 
 ers do;" these will never satisfy the upbraid- 
 ings of nature, when the picture I have 
 drawn shall be placed before you in reality, 
 and you are made wretched yourself after 
 having rendered those who should be dearer 
 to you than life, unspeakably so. 
 
 In the spring of 18 — , Miss K. came from 
 
 to for the improvement of her 
 
 health, in the family of her uncle. She 
 was about twenty, rather tall, but finely 
 formed, and very graceful in her manners. 
 She had large, expressive black eyes, a pro- 
 fusion of jet black hair, and what may be 
 called a clear brunette complexion. 
 
90 
 
 I mention her hair and eyes in particular, 
 for when she first arrived, the contrast be- 
 tween them, and her perfectly colorless face 
 and neck, was very striking ; and taken to- 
 gether with her exceedingly emaciated form, 
 gave her an expression that was singularly 
 interesting. I say singularly interesting — 
 for I would have defied the most careless 
 observer to have barely seen her for a mo- 
 ment, without a strong inclination to enquire 
 who she was, where she was from, and what 
 was the matter with her. 
 
 The cause of her bad health may be told 
 in a few words. She had lived too fashion- 
 ably. During the past winter, she had com- 
 monly spent two or three nights each week 
 at a party, or at the theatre, had risen late, 
 taken strong coffee for her breakfast, lunched 
 at one on a piece of cake and a glass of wine, 
 dined at three on all the dainties of the sea- 
 son, supper at ten or eleven, and devoted 
 all her evenings to amusement at home or 
 abroad. 
 
 She was now weak and nervous, and her 
 spirits depressed ; was more or less fever- 
 ish a great part of the time, had constant 
 headachs, and hysterical attacks from the 
 most trifling causes, slept badly at night, 
 and was heavy and languid throughout the 
 day. 
 
91 
 
 Her aunt, who was a very sensible and 
 discreet woman, was requested to indulge 
 her in every thing at first, but gradually to 
 break in upon all her bad habits. For a 
 time, she did very much as she had been 
 accustomed to do at home, with the excep- 
 tion of eating suppers. But she gradually 
 came down to a simple breakfast and plain 
 dinner, and the lunch of cake and wine was 
 supplied by a roasted apple. She went to 
 bed in season, and rose early in the morning, 
 and by fall, she could breakfast, dine and 
 sup on bread and milk and baked apples, 
 had forgot all her complaints, and had ac- 
 quired many pounds of flesh; and when she 
 came in from a long stroll across the fields, 
 blooming w^ith health, and in exhuberant 
 spirits, you would little suspect that she 
 was the tall, pale, languid girl, Avho four 
 or five months before had so forcibly at- 
 tracted your attention, and awakened your 
 sympathy. 
 
 She remained some time longer with her 
 uncle, and had so won the hearts of all who 
 knew her, and became so attached to the 
 spot which had restored her' health, that she 
 received the summons of her parents to re- 
 turn home, with a flood of tears. 
 
 As her health was now excellent, she 
 entered into all the gaities of the town with 
 
92 
 
 a high relish, and returned to her former 
 course of Hfe again. 
 
 About a year after she left the country, her 
 uncle visited on business, and was shock- 
 ed to find her health rapidly declining again. 
 She wept like a child when she saw him, and 
 expressed the greatest desire to accompany 
 him home; but a variety of domestic cir- 
 cumstances prevented this measure for a 
 time, and when it was possible for her to 
 leave town, her physicians declared that she 
 was too weakto travel. Disease of the lungs 
 had evidently taken place, and she speedily 
 sunk into an untimely grave. 
 
 Who can contemplate a scene of this sort 
 without shedding a tear over misguided 
 youth, or witness the agony of the bereaved 
 parents, without recollecting that their sacri- 
 fices to the Juggernaut of fashion and mis- 
 taken indulgence, has brought bitterness and 
 desolation to their own souls, and blotted 
 from the page of human existence, the 
 name of one of the fairest of nature's works. 
 The error may be seen when it is, alas, too 
 late, but it should be an awful monition to 
 others. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 DRESS. 
 
 IMPORTANCE OP THE SUBJECT FEMALE FORM AND 
 
 FASHIONABLE FIGURES PHENOMENA OF RESPI- 
 RATION — EFFECTS OF TIGHT CLOTHES — DIAGRAMS 
 OF THE CHEST, AND EXPLANATION OF THE PRO- 
 CESS OF BREATHING NARROWING OF THE CHEST 
 
 QUOTATION FROM DR, GODMAN EFFECTS OF 
 
 PRESSURE UPON THE MUSCLES OF THE BACK 
 
 OPINIONS OF MESSRS. SHAW AND BAMPFIELD 
 
 COMMON EXCUSE FOR WEARING STAYS SINGU- 
 LAR CASE AT THE HOTEL DIEU THE FASHION- 
 ABLE WAIST EXPOSURE OF THE NECK AND UP- 
 PER PART OF THE CHEST COVERING FOR THE 
 
 FEET THE DAMP STOCKINGS LA PETITE PA- 
 
 RISIENNE. 
 
 I AM thoroughly convinced that no one 
 subject relating' to young females is of more 
 importance than that of dress. For regula- 
 ted as it is by the fashions of the day, (which 
 are often at v£iriance with strict prudence,) it 
 is constantly undergoing a revolution which 
 may be uncomfortable, or even dangerous, 
 if followed out in all their extravigances. 
 Among the many improprieties which might 
 be noticed under this head, that of confining 
 the movements of the chest by what is ter- 
 med tight lacing, deserves your most serious 
 
94 
 
 attention, as it is unquestionably a cause of 
 more female suffering than can possibly be 
 conceived by any but those who have daily 
 opportunity of witnessing its effects. And 
 here let me disclaim all wish to join in the 
 popular hue and cry against corsets, merely 
 because it has become fashionable with some 
 to denounce them, or to dissuade from due 
 attention to personal appearance. 
 
 No one admires the symmetry of a well 
 formed woman more than I do ; nor would 
 I wish to see our females undervalue grace- 
 ful proportions. The human form possesses 
 beauties as captivating to the beholder as the 
 features of the face, and much, very much 
 can be done, while it is being developed, 
 to increase its perfectness. Of course, it is 
 a matter that should deeply interest at least 
 every mother. 
 
 When I speak of graceful proportions, I 
 mean those which nature gives to the most 
 perfect of her works, when uninterrupted 
 by the ofHciousness of man, or early ha- 
 bits. Look at the best representations of 
 that inimitable copy of a perfect female 
 form, the Venus de Medicis, which, though 
 they give you but a faint representation 
 of that matchless statue, (with the enchan- 
 ting loveliness of w^hich the eye never be- 
 comes satiated,) will enable you to form 
 
95 
 
 an idea of its outline. Compare the shoul- 
 ders, waist, and hips, with what you too 
 often meet in Broadway, and other fashion- 
 able places, and tell me if there is no gross 
 inconsistency in joining the upper and lower 
 parts of the body by an isthmus, that bears 
 no faint resemblance to that of the wasp ? 
 Do you look with disgust upon a distorted 
 limb, or the bulging head of a rickety child, 
 and can you bestow ev en a smile upon these 
 would-be monstrocities ? What if the neck 
 could be contracted by some process to the 
 size of the wrist — would not the sight of it 
 shock you ? And yet you daily see the waist 
 greatly narrowed, and the disproportion 
 increased by the clothing with unconcern. 
 Such is the force of habit, and the tyranny 
 of fashion. 
 
 Without longer discussing the question of 
 correct taste, I will endeavor to explain to 
 you some of the inevitable effects of dres- 
 sing too tightly. In the first place, I beg 
 you to place before you one of your young 
 children, with the upper parts of the body 
 uncovered, and carefully attend to the fol- 
 lowing phenomena : When the breathing is 
 deep and full, the chest is expanded, and 
 rises, and the stomach is protruded during 
 inspiration, while the chest falls and con- 
 tracts, and the stomach recedes during ex- 
 
96 
 
 piration. Now what must be the effect of 
 preventing these movements of the chest 
 and stomach by means of a tight bandage ? 
 Why the lungs can be distended no longer 
 with air, the breathing becomes hurried by 
 the least exertion, the natural functions of 
 the organs occupying the interior of the body, 
 are hindered, and the free circulation of the 
 blood impeded, constituting, all together, 
 ample causes of disease. 
 
 When the chest is scientifically laced as 
 tight as can be borne, it often causes the 
 blood to rush to the face, neck, and arms, 
 on taking exercise or remaining in a hea- 
 ted room. I have often seen young ladies 
 at parties with these parts so suffused Avith 
 blood from this cause, thatthey had much of 
 the appearance of a washer-woman actively 
 engaged over a tub of hot suds. 
 
 Another visible effect of too tight dress- 
 ing, is the heaving of the bosom, like the 
 panting of a dying bird, from the least ex- 
 ertion. Indeed, I have repeatedly been al- 
 most in an agony to see young ladies who 
 were dressed too tightly, attempt to sing, for 
 singing requires full inspirations, which they 
 are entirely unable to take. If they expe- 
 rience half of the inconvenience at such 
 times from their clothmg which they appear 
 to, it must be intolerable. Oh ! thou tyrant 
 
97 
 
 fashion ! to what tortures are thy slaves sub- 
 jected ! More slow than the Russian knaut, 
 or the infernal engines of the bloody Inqui- 
 sition — but equally dreadful in their effects. 
 The latter are comparatively but momen- 
 tary, and may soon be unheeded by the 
 senseless victim ; but when the former have 
 been borne for years, they give place to dis- 
 eases which prey with insatiate violence up- 
 on the acutely sensitive frame, and delight 
 in protracting human suffering till the last 
 fibre has been broken. Perhaps a flame 
 is kindled in the lungs that gradually con- 
 sumes the vital principle. Perhaps dis- 
 ease of the heart is destined to wear out 
 the wretched sufferer with horrid palpita- 
 tions and hourly expectation of sudden dis- 
 solution — or perhaps the thousand maladies 
 that affect the nerves are commissioned to 
 keep poor nature upon the rack, till she sinks 
 exhausted by pains no medicines can cure, 
 no sympathy assuage. The scourge, and 
 mortifying abstinence of Romish zeal are 
 contemplated with disgust, and the bloody 
 hooks, the wheels of Juggernaut, and the 
 blazing pile of Hindoo fanaticism fill the 
 soul with horror. Yet how many are immo- 
 lated at the shrine of fashion ! How many 
 voluntarily suffer tortures more severe than 
 I 
 
98 
 
 any ever imposed upon the devotees of a 
 heathen deity ! 
 
 But I will examine the subject of tight 
 lacing a little more in detail, and in order 
 to make you fully acquainted w^ith its effects^ 
 shall endeavor to give you a more perfect 
 idea of the conformation of the chest, by 
 means of diagrams ; for it is desirable that 
 the correctness of my remarks should be 
 made evident, if possible, to the senses. 
 
 Fig. 1. 
 
 Fig. 2. 
 
 E-^i 
 
 Fig. 1st represents a lateral section of 
 the chest. 
 
 A The sides of the chest (formed by the 
 ribs,) contracted as during expiration. 
 
 B Cavity of the chest which contains 
 the lungs, heart, and large blood-vessels. 
 
 C The diaphragm or partition which di- 
 vides the chest from the abdomen D, in 
 
99 
 
 which are contained the stomach, liver, 
 bowels, &c. 
 
 E E Dotted lines, showing the distance 
 to which the w^alls of the chest A are ex- 
 panded in inspiration. 
 
 Fig. 2d, is a side view of the chest. 
 
 A The spine, or back bone. 
 
 B The breast bone. 
 
 C The cavity of the chest. 
 
 D The Diaphragm. 
 
 E The cavity of the abdomen. 
 
 F State of the chest during expiration. 
 
 G Its state during inspiration. 
 
 The ribs, as you well know, are long, 
 slender bones, which form the lateral walls 
 of the chest. They have one end fastened 
 by a joint to the spine, and as they are not 
 long enough to reach from the spine to the 
 breast bone, they are eked out by pieces 
 of elastic gristle, of the size and shape of 
 the ribs, called cartilages, which easily bend 
 and allow the ribs to move up and down in 
 breathing. 
 
 There arise from the ribs and breast 
 bone, a great many strips of flesh called 
 muscles, which are fastened at the other end 
 to the shoulders and upper part of the spine 
 and head, and by contracting, draw the ribs 
 "upward, which expands the chest. This 
 takes place every time we draw in our breath. 
 
100 
 
 At the same instant that the ribs are drawn 
 up, the muscles of the diaphragm contract, 
 which draws it straighter, or more flat; of 
 course its arch descends, and then it des- 
 cribes the line K, fig. 2d. This forces the 
 stomach forward as shown by the dotted 
 line, G, and renders the cavity of the chest 
 deeper. 
 
 Now, the lungs are quiescent spongy bo- 
 dies, which receive the air, when the chest 
 is enlarged by the muscles as described — 
 for the fresh air rushes in to prevent the 
 vacuum which would be otherwise formed 
 in exactly the same simple manner that it is 
 drawn in by a pair of bellows, so that the 
 lungs have nothing to do with drawing in or 
 expelling the air, as is commonly supposed; 
 but it rushes in mechanically, through the 
 nostrils and breath pipe, as I said, to pre- 
 vent a vacuum whenever the cavity of the 
 chest is enlarged. It is forced out in the 
 following manner : — You see by fig. 2, that 
 the descent of the diaphragm, when we take 
 a full breath, forces the stomach forward to 
 G, and as all the fore part of the trunk of 
 the body below the breast bone and ribs, is 
 composed of large strong muscles, they are 
 consequently put upon the stretch. They 
 are thus excited to contract at the same 
 moment that the diaphragm and muscles 
 
101 
 
 which draw up the ribs, become relaxed, and 
 thus force back the stomach, carrying the 
 diaphragm up again to D, and pulling down 
 the ribs to F. This, consequently diminishes 
 the cavity of the chest, and forces the air 
 out again, which, in fact, is what we term 
 expiration. Thus, you see, when one set of 
 muscles contract, the chest is enlarged and 
 the air rushes in ; and when the other con- 
 tracts, the chest is diminished, and the air 
 forced out. Breathing, then, I repeat again, 
 depends entirely upon the muscles. 
 
 I feel particularly anxious that you should 
 give attention to this explanation of the pro- 
 cess of breathing, that you may fully under- 
 stand the force of my remarks on dress, and 
 not be governed by my assertions without 
 sufficient evidence of their truth, for I know 
 that if you are once entirely convinced of a 
 fact, your own good sense will suggest the 
 proper conclusions to be drawn from it. 
 
 Dr. Herbert, of Gottengen, has ascer- 
 tained by some interesting experiments, that 
 a person can inhale nearly twice as much 
 air when undressed, as when dressed tightly. 
 
 Now, suppose that, by regular tight dress- 
 ing from the age of ten years, the chest 
 can be contracted to the dotted lines X X, 
 fig. 1st, (which can be easily accomplished 
 at this early period, and without perhaps 
 
102 
 
 any very great suffering,) what must be the 
 effect upon the organs contained in the cavi- 
 ties B and D, fig. 1st. No great penetra- 
 tion is necessary to discover that it must be 
 highly injurious. I said that the chest could 
 be easily narrowed to the extent above allu- 
 ded to, while the person is still growing, and 
 perhaps without any very great immediate 
 suffering, for nature will often permit her- 
 self to be most impiously outraged for a 
 time, though she is sure to take vengeance 
 in the end, and when her indignation is once 
 roused, she is implacable and remorseless. 
 Thus the consequences of an early fault, 
 are sometimes not perceived till many years 
 after. 
 
 You are already well aware of the abso- 
 lute necessity of a proper supply of air being 
 received into the lungs in order to maintain 
 health, and I have attempted to explain to 
 you how this supply is taken in, entirely by 
 the power of the muscles of respiration. 
 You will, therefore, immediately perceive 
 the consequences of a material diminution 
 or loss of power in any of these important 
 agents. 
 
 The strength and motions of the limbs 
 depend upon their muscles, and the muscles 
 require constant employment in order to re- 
 tain their full force. 
 
103 
 
 When we apply bandages to a limb, and 
 for a considerable time restrain, or alto- 
 gether hinder the action of the muscles, we 
 find when the bandages are removed, that 
 the limb has lost a great deal of its strength 
 and activity. But if the bandages are con- 
 tinued beyond a certain time, the muscles 
 will not only be found to have lost strength, 
 but to be actually greatly diminished in size. 
 Indeed, they may be wasted in this way to 
 mere strips of flesh, that have little or no 
 contractility whatever. 
 
 In like manner the muscles of respira- 
 tion, by being long compressed and restrain- 
 ed in their action by well adjusted stays, be- 
 come so debilitated and wasted as to per- 
 form their office but feebly, and some of 
 them may even cease to do so altogether. 
 The consequences are, first, weak respira- 
 tion, breathlessness from trifling exercises, 
 fainting fits, palpitations, &c. and those dis- 
 eases whose course is indescribable suffering, 
 and whose certain termination is the grave. 
 
 It is not possible to give a more just de- 
 lineation of the effects of tight lacing than 
 has been given by that accomplished anato- 
 mist, the lamented Dr. Godman, and I hope 
 you will excuse a long quotation from his 
 writings on this interesting subject. 
 
 " As all the parts described (those con- 
 
104 
 
 cerned in forming and filling up the chest,) 
 are flexible and moveable from their pecu- 
 liar nature and construction, it is obvious 
 that the first effect of any tightness or con- 
 striction will be to impede their proper mo- 
 tions, and thrust them out of their natural 
 position. Thus, the corset being laced 
 tightest at the part of the chest having the 
 shortest ribs, the longest and most flexible 
 cartilages, and the most extensive motion, 
 produces narrowing of the chest, renders 
 its free movements impossible, and perma- 
 nently deforms it, by doubling the cartilages 
 inward, near their juncture with the breast 
 bone." 
 
 "As if this mischief was not great enough, 
 another instrument of torture is added in 
 the form of a steel or hickory husk^ which 
 is pushed into its sheath in the already too 
 tight corset, immediately over, and extend- 
 ing along the whole length of the breast 
 bone. This busk is to keep the body from 
 bending forward in the centre, and to pre- 
 vent the dress and corset from ' hooping up,' 
 as it is called. As the body cannot possibly 
 be prevented from leaning forward to a 
 certain degree, the consequence is, that the 
 whole weight of the superior part is sus- 
 tained upon the lower part of the breast 
 bone, which leans directly against the busk, 
 
105 
 
 at a point where it is least supported by 
 the attachment of the cartelages of the ribs* 
 The point thus injuriously pressed upon is 
 nearly opposite the lesser end of the sto- 
 mach, and most of those who habitually 
 lace tight, have a depression here which 
 would contain the size of half an egg. 
 Either a constant feeling of aching and 
 soreness is experienced at this point, or when 
 the busk is taken out it is so severe and 
 painful, that the individual cannot bear the 
 slightest pressure without an exclamation 
 of distress." 
 
 ''We have then among the first effects of 
 tight lacing and pressure of the busk, im- 
 pairment of motion, and deformity of the 
 chest, accompanied by a constant soreness 
 and irritation over the stomach, whose un- 
 disturbed action is one of the greatest essen- 
 tials to health. If this was the sum of the 
 evil, we might regard it as tolerable, being 
 apparently external. But when the lower 
 part of the chest is compressed, the liver is 
 by the same force squeezed upwards and in- 
 wards, and being a large aijd solid body, it 
 pushes before it the diaphragm, and forcibly 
 prevents its descent in the act of breathing, 
 while on the other side, the spleen and sto- 
 mach are forced upwards, producing a simi- 
 lar effect upon the diaphragm, and the func- 
 
106 
 
 tions of all these organs, the liver, stomach, 
 and spleen must be impaired in proportion 
 to the pressure and displacement their deli- 
 cate nerves and vessels suffer." 
 
 '^ In addition to these greater or more ob- 
 vious injuries to the functions of individual 
 organs, we may now add the evils caused to 
 the great vital functions. The same pres- 
 sure which forces the liver inwards and up- 
 wards by squeezing the texture of the or- 
 gans together, prevents the free entrance 
 of the blood into them, being thrust firmly 
 back against the spine and lower part of the 
 diaphragm, they compress the openings by 
 which the blood passes to and from the heart 
 through the great vein and artery." 
 
 '' The consequence of this damming up the 
 vital current, is the gradual development of 
 irregularity of action in the heart, palpita- 
 tions, tendency to faint, violent throbbings, 
 and in some cases organic alterations in the 
 heart itself. This same tightening of the 
 lower part of the chest, and prevention of 
 the enlargement of its cavity by stopping 
 the descent of. the diaphragm, acts with 
 equal injury on the blood which should de- 
 scend from the great veins of the head and 
 arms to the heart at each breathing. The 
 proper quantity of blood cannot be delivered 
 therefrom for want of proper dilation of the 
 
107 
 
 chest, and the individual is subject to vio- 
 lent headachs, dullness, low spirits, extreme 
 paleness, or leaden hue of countenance." 
 
 " These readily observable consequences 
 are but the commencement of ills from this 
 source. The lunflfs beintr withheld from their 
 proper action by not being sufficiently dila- 
 ted, the air cannot get access to the blood, 
 and the blood cannot receive that purifica- 
 tion or elaboration which renders it fit to 
 sustain the body in health. Its watery, car- 
 bonaceous, and other impurities are retained 
 instead of being thrown ofi", and in place of 
 a brilliant vermillion colored fluid being 
 sent to the left side of the heart for the gen- 
 eral system, it returns of a dark or bluish 
 red, scarcely better -than when it entered 
 the lungs, and almost utterly unfit for any 
 of the purposes of life." 
 
 *' This condition if kept up is soon made 
 sensible by defective energy in all parts of 
 the body, by various local diseases and slight 
 morbid changes sufficient to render life irk- 
 some. Cold extremities, pale visages, trou- 
 bled sleep, excessive mobility of system, 
 commonly called nervousness, evinced by 
 great agitation from any inadequate causes, 
 ifcc, are among the most general obvious 
 consequences of such impairments of func- 
 tion." 
 
108 
 
 " To say nothing further of the actual mis- 
 chiefs which tight lacing produces, the influ- 
 ence it exerts on all the motions of the body, 
 is entirely disadvantageous. Can any thing 
 on earth be more ungraceful than the gait, 
 the walk of a female who is extremely cor- 
 seted ? From the shoulders down as stiffly 
 inflexible as the parlor tongs, she can only 
 advance by a sidelong shuffle of the feet, 
 which appear to get forward by stealth, in- 
 stead of moving the body with that elastic 
 mobility characteristic of its unrestrained na- 
 tural condition. Instead of the easy, grace- 
 ful inclination of a flexible form, we have an 
 awkward, ungainly attempt to balance the 
 body on the limbs, the shoulders stiffened 
 backwards as if shackled with iron, the 
 chest girded in till breath can scarcely be 
 drawn, and the trunk of the body as rigid as 
 if carved in wood — the figure looking like 
 a caricature upon nature, ease and grace. 
 When ladies in this trim enter a room, 
 especially after walking, they can scarcely 
 speak for several minutes, and their bosoms 
 heave with an unnatural agitation. If the 
 busk be of the fashionable length, it is im- 
 possible for them to sit comfortably in a 
 chair ; they must perch on its outer edge, to 
 prevent the busk from being pushed towards 
 the chin, <fcc. All this torture, uneasiness 
 
109 
 
 and inconvenience is patiently endured ; and 
 for what ? Because it is fashionable ! Grace, 
 ease, elegance, and comfort, are alike immo- 
 lated to this Moloch, who spares none who 
 pretend to the rank o? fashionable.'^'^ 
 
 "In persons of a somewhat more robust 
 frame, the use of tight corsets is followed 
 by a very severe pain, which is experienced 
 at the time of taking them off, and rather dif- 
 ferent in kind from what we have mentioned 
 as occurring to delicate females. The pain in 
 this case is caused by the return of the blood 
 to the parts which have been violently com- 
 pressed by the corsets, and enjoyed bui a par- 
 tial circulation w^hile they were worn. It is 
 exceedingly acute, and requires the corset to 
 be very gradually loosened. Some idea of 
 it may be formed by those who have occa- 
 sionally taken off a very tight garter or other 
 ligature which has been worn for some hours. 
 We feel less commiseration for such suffer- 
 ers, who have not the shadow of excuse 
 which is offered by the delicate. They do 
 not need support, and are merely solicitous 
 to make a ' figure.' " 
 
 u Very probably it may be urged that the 
 evils we have indicated are confined to a 
 com])aratively small number, and that a 
 much greater proportion of females wear 
 corsets without suffering these inconvenien- 
 K " 
 
110 
 
 ces or injuries. However true it may be 
 that some persons use corsets with impunity, 
 it does not in the least diminish the force of 
 the well founded objections made to them 
 in the preceding observations. It may be 
 said with equal truth that numerous indi- 
 viduals use spiritous liquors or amuse them- 
 selves by occasional gaming without injury, 
 but we know that the vast majority of man- 
 kind are but too prone to pass from the use 
 to the abuse of both the latter, and as in 
 the use of spiritous liquors the transition 
 from the use to the abuse is frequently so 
 gradual as to be nearly imperceptible, until 
 the severest evils are produced, so it is most 
 probable, especially in young persons, that 
 the use of corsets and busk will speedily and 
 imperceptibly advance to their abuse." 
 
 The next effect of a constant use of stiff 
 stays worthy of your attention is that which 
 they have upon the muscles of the back. I 
 have explained to you how their pressure 
 may impair the power of the muscles of 
 respiration, and you will readily perceive 
 that they must operate in the same way up- 
 on those of the back. Now the capability 
 of maintaining ourselves in an erect posi- 
 tion, depends upon the muscles which lie up 
 and down the back, and which are every 
 where attached to the bones of which the 
 
Ill 
 
 spine is composed. If the muscles on one 
 side become palsied, or in any way lose 
 their power, the consequence is, that the 
 muscles of the opposite side contiliuing to 
 act, draw the trunk to that side, forming a 
 curve, and if all the muscles are weakened, 
 the person has more or less difficulty in sup- 
 porting the body erect. When this is the 
 case, permanent curvatures of the spine are 
 very apt to take place. 
 
 I have heretofore intimated that the size 
 and strength of the muscles depend upon the 
 extent to which they are used. For instance, 
 the right arm of a blacksmith is usually 
 much larger and stronger than the left, be- 
 cause he is constantly swinging a heavy 
 hammer with it, while the left is only em- 
 ployed in holding the iron on the anvil. The 
 arms and shoulders of boatmen who are 
 constantly at the oar are disproportionately 
 large when compared with the lower extre- 
 mities, and the legs of great walkers some- 
 times bear the same relation to their arms. 
 
 This points out the proper mode of re- 
 storing strength to any part, viz : by giving 
 employment to its muscles ; and proves in- 
 contestibly that the rational means of pre- 
 venting debility of any set of muscles, is to 
 be found in free motion. 
 
 If you compress the muscles of the back, 
 
112 
 
 and take from them the necessity of keep- 
 ing the body erect by stiff stays, they will 
 soon lose their power, and curvatures of the 
 spine may ensue. 
 
 I cannot refrain from giving you some 
 quotations in this place from the writings of 
 a late eminent anatomist, Mr. Shaw, and 
 from an Essay on curvatures of the spine, 
 by Mr. Bampfield, for which he obtained the 
 Fothergillian gold medal from the Medical 
 Society of London. 
 
 *^If we consider," says Mr. Shaw, " the 
 manner in which young ladies are brought 
 up from the age of ten to sixteen, and keep 
 this principle in view, we shall, perhaps, be 
 able to discover the cause why they are 
 more frequently deformed in a particular 
 manner, than those of any other climate, or 
 even than the poorer classes in their own 
 country. As long as a child continues in a 
 state of nature, that is, while it is permitted 
 to run freely about, and before it arrives at 
 that age when the parent is induced to pay 
 particular attention to its figure, the form is 
 fine and perfect ; but about the age of nine 
 or ten, what may often be truly called its 
 miseries commence, education is seriously 
 begun, and the girl is no longer permitted 
 to indulge in that playfulness which is not 
 objected to in boys. Indeed, it often hap- 
 
113 
 
 pens, that the first lesson a young lady re- 
 ceives, is an admonition that she is not a 
 boy. When she walks or when she sits, 
 particular attention is paid to her manner, 
 and the point most generally insisted on is, 
 that she shall keep herself quite erect. For 
 this purpose, or to give the chest a certain 
 form, she is encased in a pair of stiff stays. 
 Girls are thus early put under restraints not 
 natural to their age. This, in some degree, 
 renders them artificial, which is increased 
 by the restrictions which are unavoidable in 
 the acquirement of certain necessary ac- 
 complishments." 
 
 After some further remarks, he says — 
 ^* Perhaps the reader is now prepared to ad- 
 mit the following view of causes of the com- 
 mon slight curvation when it occurs in a 
 girl, who, although not of a bad constitution, 
 is listless, easily fatigued, and unwilling to 
 take active exercise. The first cause which 
 I would assign, is the want of sufficient gen- 
 eral exercise, and especially of that which 
 acts more immediately on the muscles of 
 the back ; the second, on the almost neces- 
 sary yielding of the lumber portion of the 
 spine to the weight of the upper part of the 
 body, if the girl be allowed to set at work or 
 practice at the piano for hours, without any 
 artificial support," (i.e. from a chair with a 
 
 K* 
 
114 
 
 back.) ^' The third cause I would name, is 
 the habit of lounging, or balancing the body 
 on one leg ; the fourth, the habit of sitting 
 awry while writing or drawing ; the fifth, 
 the habit of sleeping on a soft bed, and with 
 a high pillow ; the sixth, the more frequent 
 use of the right than of the left arm ; and, 
 lastly, I would assign as a cause of curva- 
 tion, most of tlie attempts that are made to 
 correct the figure^ or to model it into a certain 
 form.'^'* 
 
 Mr. Shaw expressly says of stays, that 
 **the tighter they are, the more do they act 
 as compressing bandages, which not only 
 prevent the natural play of the muscles, and 
 thus not only weaken them, but even waste 
 and lessen their size. That such may be 
 the effect of pressure is often seen in the 
 wasted leg of the mendicant, which, through 
 tight bandaging alone, can be reduced to 
 that condition which excites our commisse- 
 ration." 
 
 The following are Mr. Bampfield's opin- 
 ions of the effects of the fashionable mode 
 of educating females, upon the muscles of 
 the back: — ''Thus the spinal muscles of 
 young females are doomed to inaction by 
 the trunks of their bodies being imprisoned 
 in stiff stays, or their movements abridged 
 and confined by the use of collars, braces, 
 
115 
 
 back boards, or by being stretched motion- 
 less on reclining boards or school room 
 floors ; or they are subjected to long con- 
 tinued exertion, and the use of one posture, 
 which all our muscles abhor, and soon be- 
 come weary of; by being placed in educa- 
 tion chairs or stools, the long form of school 
 rooms, or on the round stool, to practice for 
 hours on the piano-forte or harp, with strict 
 injunction to keep the body quite upright, 
 and menaces of punishment if they stoop or 
 bend in the least. But the muscles must 
 sometimes obey divine instead of human 
 laws, and when fatigued or weary in the 
 erect posture, must gradually follow the 
 Creator's law, and seek repose by allowing 
 the body to sink into an inclination to one 
 side or the other, and by laying the basis of 
 lateral curvature, produce the reverse of 
 what human wisdom intended." *' Without 
 digressing further, I would observe, instead 
 of stiff stays, back boards, reclining boards, 
 education chairs without backs, military 
 marching, &c., let the boys and girls have 
 no clothes or aparatus to limit their move- 
 ments, and when weary, let them set down 
 on chairs with proper backs, to support the 
 spine, or lay down for rest, or, in fact, seek 
 repose as they find most agreeable, when 
 they are fatigued or can no longer maintain 
 
116 
 
 an erect attitude conveniently. Let the girls 
 have a large jield or })]ay ground. Let the 
 boys also have the range of the country 
 within the sound of the school bell. Let 
 the girls engage in the games of battle- 
 door and shuttlecock, skipping, dancing, and 
 all that they can play at.''^ 
 
 I should have given some portions of the 
 above quotations when speaking of female 
 education, in a previous chapter, but I pre- 
 ferred giving them entire in this place. 
 
 The most common excuse which we hear 
 urged by ladies for v/earing stays, is, that 
 they are weak, and cannot hold themselves 
 erect without them, which is unquestionably 
 the case. And do you know the real cause 
 of this weakness ? Why, it is the long use 
 of the identical articles of dress which they 
 employ to remedy it. It is, that their stays 
 have deprived the muscles of their strength, 
 as has been fully explained. Do you sup- 
 pose that a healthy girl, brought up in the 
 country, who has perhaps never seen a fash- 
 ionable corset, feels this inability of holding 
 herself erect ? No, not in the least ; and 
 you will see her walk, ride, or sit with per- 
 fect ease, and with the body as upright as 
 you could desire. 
 
 I am not arguing to induce you to lay 
 aside your stays; your habits are formed, 
 
117 
 
 and you have fortunately escaped the dan- 
 gers of early life, and are now past the pe- 
 riod most obnoxious to the diseases com- 
 monly produced by improprieties in dress of 
 this sort. But you have daughters — I need 
 say no more. 
 
 Perhaps you will ask me whether I would 
 really advise you to allow your daughters to 
 grow" up without using any of the ordinary 
 means for improving their forms ; an act at 
 once in direct violation of all modern cus- 
 toms and refined taste. Simply and plainly 
 I answer — if you would have them healthy, 
 and capable of fulfilling the great objects 
 of their existence, the companions of your 
 life, and the solace and support of your de- 
 clining years, leave them exactly as the God 
 of nature made them. Rely upon it. He 
 ^^ never made his works" (and above all, the 
 most beautiful and lovely of all his earthly 
 works,) '' for man to mend." 
 
 If you allow them while young to wear 
 corsets, and their heads to be filled with the 
 absurd notions of " slender waists," and 
 ''pretty forms," you may be sure they will 
 make a bad use of them. You know they 
 have little or no discretion, and though you 
 may tell them a thousand times not to lace 
 themselves too tight, depend upon it, nine 
 times out of ten they will do so, and that, 
 
118 
 
 perhaps, without the least intention of diso- 
 beying you. 
 
 It is easier to avoid temptation than to 
 resist it. If you would keep your son from 
 drunkenness, never set spirits before him ; 
 and if you would hinder your daughter from 
 marring the fair form which her Creator 
 has given her. and drawing down His just 
 judgments, see that she has not the means 
 of doing so from your hands, and early teach 
 her the danger, impropriety, and I will add 
 impiety of such conduct. 
 
 Cases are frequently occurring w^hich 
 show the dreadful effects of too tight lacing. 
 Not long since a girl of eighteen was under 
 the care of M. Breschet, at the Hotel Dieu, 
 at Paris, who had on the right side of her 
 throat a tumor, which at times was nearly 
 as large as one's fist. It reached from the 
 collar bone high up the neck, and could 
 be entirely pushed into the chest. It was 
 soft and elastic, and largest when the chest 
 w^as tightly laced in corsets. By applying 
 the ear to it, respiration could be distinctly 
 heard in it, and it proved to be a portion of 
 the lungs, which, by being powerfully com- 
 pressed, had forced its way from the chest 
 up into the neck. 
 
 How this unfortunate being could have 
 endured the lacing which thus forced a pas- 
 
119 
 
 sage for the lungs through the upper part 
 of the chest, can scarcely be conceived by 
 those who knov/ nothing of the all-power- 
 ful influence of fashion. That her delicate 
 frame could have so long withstood such 
 violence, proves how much nature will some- 
 times sustain. 
 
 One morning in the spring of 182-, Mr. 
 
 E , whom I had occasionally seen, 
 
 called on me, accompanied by a young lady, 
 whose personal appearance immediately ar- 
 rested my attention. Her features were 
 regular, her complexion fair, and her figure 
 w^hat the fashionable world would term 
 exquisitely beautiful. She appeared to be 
 about two or three-and-tw enty, and notwith- 
 standing a considerable emaciation, a pearly 
 whiteness of the eye, and an unnatural trans- 
 parency of the skin, would have been pro- 
 nounced by most judges a fine looking w^o- 
 
 man. Mr. E introduced her as his 
 
 daughter, Mrs. C , and added, we have 
 
 come to consult you about her health. A 
 flush suff*used her cheeks as he pronounced 
 the last words, and she appeared a little 
 agitated, probably on account of consulting 
 a stranger. I begged them to be seated 
 and spoke of the fineness of the morning, 
 and other common topics, in order to place 
 her at her ease, and to give myself an op- 
 
120 
 
 portunity of examining her appearance a 
 little more at leisure. 
 
 This you will probably suppose arose from 
 the same curiosity with which men in gene- 
 ral notice the exterior of an interesting fe- 
 male ; but my motive was entirely profes- 
 sional. It was to study her countenance^ 
 and mark any peculiar expression, to ob- 
 serve her breathing, her attitude, and many 
 other apparently trifling circumstances from 
 which the practised eye is often enabled to 
 draw much valuable information. 
 
 She conversed with ease, and her man- 
 ners were graceful and pleasing, and she 
 soon lost the slight perturbation w^hich our 
 first meeting had occasioned. She did not 
 cough, nor was her breathing perceptibly 
 affected, and yet the appearance of her eyes 
 and skin, and the color of her cheek, which 
 many would have mistaken for the carmine 
 of health, plainly told that the destroying 
 worm Avas ah^eady reveling at her vitals. 
 
 I now made the necessary inquiries re- 
 specting her health, and the account she 
 gave of herself fully confirmed the opinion I 
 had at first formed. She spoke of having suf- 
 fered much from mental anxiety, and said 
 something about domestic troubles, which of 
 course I did not comprehend, and did not feel 
 myself at liberty to enquire into at that time 
 
121 
 
 I advised such remedies as I thought applica- 
 bJe to her case, and promised to see her again 
 soon, but her person, her manners, and the 
 ease and propriety of her conversation, in- 
 terested me so much, that 1 determined, 
 when they had left me, to embrace the first 
 opportunity of learning more about her, and 
 soon after obtained her history in full from 
 an acquaintance. It was simply this : 
 
 Her parents were of humble origin, and 
 had commenced the world without educa- 
 tion, and pennyless. By industry and good 
 management, they had acquired sufficient 
 property to render them quite independent, 
 and were desirous that their children should 
 have advantages which they themselves had 
 never enjoyed. 
 
 My patient had grown up a beautiful girl, 
 and was tolerably educated, at least so far 
 as it related to the instructions she had de- 
 rived from different teachers, and posses- 
 sing a pleasing address, had excited very 
 general admiration in the circle in w^hich 
 she moved. She was exceedingly fond of 
 dress, and not having the advantage of a 
 well-informed and careful mother, was left 
 in this respect entirely to her own discretion, 
 or perhaps, more properly speaking, to her 
 own indiscretion^ 
 
 From au early period she had paid great 
 
 L 
 
122 
 
 attention to improving the delicacy of her 
 form, and employed all the usual methods of 
 diminishing the size of the waist. By a regu- 
 lar system of tight dressing, she had indeed 
 wonderfully succeeded in this respect, but 
 the sculptor or painter would not have ad- 
 mired her proportions. Even those who 
 cannot boast of the artist's discernment, but 
 who are not blinded by the false lustre of 
 fashion, would immediately have discovered 
 a want of symmetry in the shoulders, waist, 
 and hips, though the first and last were cer- 
 tainly sufficiently delicate. 
 
 From the age of sixteen she was quite the 
 belle, and had a great number of suitors, 
 among whom were several young men of 
 highly respectable families ; but she did not 
 bestow herself upon any one till between 
 nineteen and twenty, when she became ac- 
 quainted with a dashing young fellow of ra- 
 ther profligate habits, but pleasing exterior, 
 to whom she was married after a very short 
 courtship, and soon removed with him to a 
 neighboring town where he resided. 
 
 Her husband, as I have intimated, was a 
 man of loose morals, not in the least degree 
 susceptible of fine feelings, or capable of 
 forming a delicate attachment. He had 
 married her for her personal charms alone,, 
 with little or no attention to her mental qual 
 
123 
 
 ifications ; of course, after the novelty had 
 ceased, was just as likely to be displeased 
 as pleased with her, to say the least* 
 
 He possessed but limited means for indul- 
 ging her fondness for dress and fashionable 
 life, which, to her, was soon a cause of com- 
 plaint : and not long after their marriage, 
 he began to exhibit his real character ; 
 first, by inattention, and then by unkind- 
 ness. The consequences may be antici- 
 pated. A woman who had always been ac- 
 customed to indulgerhce and caresses would 
 not tamely brook such a change of conduct ; 
 and not possessing herself those mild and 
 amiable virtues, which would lead her to 
 yield and conciliate when she could not go- 
 vern, dissentions and broils soon took place, 
 and increased so much in frequency and vio- 
 lence, that at the end of two years she 
 was one of the most unhappy beings in 
 existence. 
 
 She found herself tied to a man she did 
 not love, and by whom she was not loved ; 
 and instead of endeavoring to make the 
 best of a bad bargain, she gave herself up 
 to the extravagance of her undisciplined pas- 
 sions ; passing alternately from taunts and 
 reproaches to lamentations and tears. 
 
 Her health now began to fail, and her 
 
124 
 
 father seeing no prospect of a favorable 
 change in her situation, determined to take 
 her home again. 
 
 As she had no children to hinder this ar- 
 rangement, and her husband did not oppose 
 it, it took place immediately, and soon after 
 her arrival, I was consulted as before-men- 
 tioned. 
 
 The change in her condition — the absence 
 of the causes of anxiety, and chagrin from 
 w^hich she had suffered, and the affectionate 
 assiduities of her family produced for a time 
 a considerable abatement of her complaints, 
 and her friends flattered themselves that she 
 would be entirely restored. But they were 
 ere long to be undeceived, for her disease 
 had taken too deep root ever to be removed. 
 
 For several months she continued able to 
 ride about; but at length her cough assumed 
 a more serious aspect — her strength wasted, 
 and she was constrained to confine herself 
 to her room. My daily attendance was now 
 required, and I had a more full opportunity 
 of becoming acquainted with the extent of 
 her malady, and observing the charcter of 
 her mind. 
 
 She was really a spoiled child, and inca- 
 pable of controlling her passions. She was 
 naturally not uuamiable, but her temper 
 
125 
 
 was not at all improved by education, and 
 had been soured by constant vexations since 
 her marriage ; yet she bore her bad health 
 with more patience than might have been 
 expected, and usually appeared cheerful and 
 sanguine of an entire recovery. As is com- 
 mon with lingering complaints, she was 
 alternately better and Avorse ; and though she 
 was perceptibly declining, her hopes always 
 brightened wath the least alleviation of her 
 sufferings, and were not materially abated by 
 any little aggravation of them. If comfort- 
 able to day, she would talk of being well ; 
 and if more ill than yesterday, she was sure 
 of being better to-morrow. Yet copious 
 expectorations indicated the progress of tte 
 destructive process in the lungs, and a pe- 
 culiar irritability of the stomach afforded 
 grounds for suspicion that that organ also 
 was implicated in diseased action. 
 
 She was still able to sit up a considerable 
 portion of the day, when I was taken very 
 ill, and confined to my room for several 
 weeks. During this time, she was attended 
 
 by my friend, Dr. . Her father 
 
 called occasionally to inform me that she 
 was gradually sinking, that she had become 
 much alarmed at her condition, and was 
 exceedingly anxious to see me, still confi- 
 
12G 
 
 dent that she should be benefitted by my 
 prescriptions. 
 
 As soon as my strength would permit, I 
 visited her ; but alas, how changed ! She 
 was literally reduced to a skeleton, and her 
 features were those of death itself, with the 
 exception of her eye, which had not yet lost 
 all its animation. She was lying bolstered 
 up in bed, with a rapid, small pulse, difficult 
 breathing, a cough which at times almost 
 threatened suffocation, and entire inability 
 of retaining, even for a few minutes, the 
 blandest nutriment upon the stomach. 
 
 The condition of the stomach was un- 
 doubtedly the cause of this extreme emacia- 
 lion ; for though this is a common effect of 
 protracted consumptions, it is rarely so great 
 as in those cases of diseased stomachs in 
 which little or no nutriment can be taken 
 into the system. 
 
 Her countenance lighted up as I entered the 
 room, and I fancied from its expression that 
 the fond hope of recovery had not entirely 
 forsaken her. Oh Hope ! thou sweet enchan- 
 tress ; how wretched indeed would be the 
 fate of us all, if it were not for thy sooth- 
 ing influence. Not only would the slave and 
 prisoner sink without thy support — not only 
 would the destitute and oppressed cease to 
 struggle on with the ills which they sustain, 
 
this wide world itself would become dark 
 and cheerless without thy light, and eternity 
 an abyss more horrible to contemplate than 
 annihilation. 
 
 I took her hand, which she feebly raised 
 from the bed, and enquired how she was. 
 ' Very low,' said she, ' very low.' At the same 
 time, her eyes rested upon my wasted fea- 
 tures, for a violent fever had left its pallid 
 traces there. She paused for a moment, and 
 then continued; 'you have been very ill — 
 are you quite recovered ?' ' Quite recovered,' 
 I replied. She paused again, and her coun- 
 tenance brightened. I saw the cause. Hope 
 still flattered her that she too might yet 
 recover. You do not know how anxious I 
 have been to see you, she said, for I have 
 fancied that you perhaps might help me. I 
 am very ill, but others have recovered who 
 have been as low as I am. I made no reply, 
 though I perceived that her last words were 
 pronounced with the expectation of drawing 
 from me some little encouragement. Her 
 case was evidently hopeless. Nothing could 
 be done to avert the fatal stroke. Those or- 
 gans necessary to vitality were unquestion- 
 ably rendered nearly useless from disease, 
 and must soon cease to perform their office. 
 
 Though our science possesses immense 
 powers in preserving life, while every part 
 
128 
 
 of the animal machine retains its integrity^ 
 we cannot, Hke the machinist, when a wheel 
 is broken, substitute another in its place. 
 No. Whenever *' the cord be loosed, or the 
 golden bowl he broken, or the pitcher be bro- 
 ken^ or the wheel be broken at the cistern, 
 then shall the dust return to the earth as it 
 was, and the spirit shall return unto God 
 who gave it." 
 
 She perceived from my looks that I could 
 not encourage her with the prospect of reco- 
 vering, and after a little time, and an effort 
 to appear composed, she said, " Doctor, 
 what do you really think of my case ? I want 
 your candid opinion." At first I hesitated. 
 My situation was painful. I knew her last, 
 faint h^pe of recovery rested upon my efforts, 
 and to tell her that I could do no more, 
 would be to take from her the frail reed 
 with which she was struggling to support 
 herself, and give her up to despair. — 
 What was to be done ? Could I conscien- 
 tiously amuse her with the flattering pros- 
 pect of health, when she was rapidly advan- 
 cing toward the grave ? No. I had long 
 since determined never knowingly to rob 
 a patient by encouraging language, when 
 there is no ground for hope, of the last 
 few remaining moments of existence, which 
 should be entirely devoted to the preparation 
 
129 
 
 for an untried scene. I hesitated. Her eyes 
 were anxiously fixed upon me, and my words 
 almost stuck in my throat. But I felt it my 
 duty to be plain, and at length said, '* It is 
 painful for me to tell you that I am unable 
 to give you the least encouragement." She 
 heaved a deep sigh, which seemed to sever 
 the last tie that bound her to life, but made 
 no reply. 
 
 After a little time she said — *' Oh! why 
 should I wish to live ? This world has af- 
 forded me but very little real satisfaction ; it 
 is, indeed, all vanity." I remarked that death 
 is the portion of us all, and that it is of far 
 more importance that we should be prepared 
 for another state of existence, than that we 
 should live long — for the longest life is but a 
 moment compared to eternity. She said 
 — '' I am fully sensible of the correctness of 
 what you say, and I feel the infinite impor- 
 tance of a due preparation for the last hour." 
 I suggested the propriety of her seeing Mr. 
 
 , a pious clergyman who resided near, 
 
 and she replied — " he has already visited me, 
 and I hope I shall profit by his instructions." 
 From this time she gave her whole attention 
 to her spiritual concerns, and exhibited that 
 sincere penitence and Christian resignation, 
 which, of all things, is most valuable at such 
 a time, and v/hich was highly satisfactory to 
 
130 
 
 her friends, and the good clergyman who 
 frequently visited her. While she was in 
 this frame of mind, her husband hearing 
 that she could not long survive, and feeling 
 no doubt, some compunction for many things 
 that had passed between them, came to see 
 her ; and the consequence was, full forgive- 
 ness on her part, and a perfect reconcilia- 
 tion. She did not reproach him for any of 
 his misconduct, but acknowledged that she 
 had been wrong in many things, and begged 
 him to forgive her. It may be supposed 
 that this had a powerful effect upon his 
 feelings, especially as he was undoubtedly 
 most in fault ; but it w^as far from being 
 great or lasting, for he was a man destitute 
 of much sensibility. 
 
 She did not survive many days after this 
 reconciliation, but paid the last debt in 
 the perfect possession of her faculties, and 
 with entire composure and resignation. 
 
 In examining the body after death, (which 
 some peculiarities in her symptoms rendered 
 desirable,) the shape of the chest appeared 
 very remarkable. As has heretofore been 
 explained, the chest of a w^ell formed person 
 is conical ; that is, larger at its lower than 
 at its upper part, and the ribs which form the 
 principal portion of its walls, do not reach 
 themselves to the breast bone, but are eked 
 
131 
 
 out by pliable cartilages which are joined to 
 the breast bone. 
 
 In this instance, however, the low^er part 
 of the chest was surprisingly narrow, and 
 the cartilages of which I have spoken, 
 w^ere bent in, in a peculiar manner, so as to 
 allow the ends of the ribs in front to approx- 
 imate toward each other. By this confor- 
 mation, the stomach must have been pressed 
 by the ribs and their cartilages, and the 
 lungs forced into the upper part of the chest, 
 and greatly confined in their action. Both 
 the lungs and stomach were extensively dis- 
 eased. 
 
 The question may arise, whether this 
 alteration in the natural formation of the 
 chest, was the entire cause of disease and 
 death ? May not mental causes, during the 
 time she resided with her husband, have had 
 much to do in bringing on the fatal malady ? 
 These are questions that cannot be posi- 
 tively answered ; but the anatomist will tell 
 you, that a chest thus artificially narrowed, 
 is quite sufficient to produce the most melan- 
 choly consequences; and if it is not the only 
 cause of death, is unquestionably the most 
 powerful in its operation, and materially 
 assists the action of all other causes. 
 
 The limbs may be distorted in every pos- 
 sible manner, or cut off without interfering 
 
132 
 
 with the functions essential to life ; and even 
 the trunk itself, when all the bones are sof- 
 tened by rickets, may undergo astonishing 
 changes, without greatly embarrassing the 
 vital organs ; for then, if one part is pressed 
 in, another is consequently pressed out — so 
 that the actual space which the organs 
 occupy, may not be considerably diminished. 
 But it must be recollected, that when the 
 lower part of the chest of a healthy person 
 is artificially contracted, the bones of the 
 upper part are not soft and disposed to yield, 
 but firm and resisting ; of course the organs 
 contained in the chest must suffer. Let any 
 rational being examine this subject for once, 
 in its true light, and I am sure that the folly 
 and madness of the present system of tight 
 lacing must be apparent. 
 
 If the eastern notions, that w^omen are 
 not accountable beings, and that their lives 
 and health are at their own disposal, were 
 correct, still what fools they must be to sub- 
 ject themselves to disease and suffering, for 
 fashion's sake, or the pitiful vanity of attract- 
 ing the gaze of stupid admiration. That it 
 is their principal desire to render themselves 
 interesting, in every sense of the word, they 
 all admit ; and that it is no small part of their 
 study to merit the approbation of the other 
 sex, we all know ; and I am bold to assert, that 
 
133 
 
 if they suspected even the half of the con- 
 tempt and pity with which men of sense look 
 upon a female who has tortured herself into 
 the resemblance of a wasp, or otherwise 
 marred the symmetry and loveliness of na- 
 ture's chef d'oeu vre, by her dress, they would 
 be effectually prevented from extravagances 
 of this sort. 
 
 Imprudent exposure of the neck and upper 
 part of the chest is also a subject of serious 
 importance. Laennec, w^ho has done more 
 than any other individual toward disclosing 
 the actual nature and causes of consumption, 
 declares it to be his opinion that exposure 
 of these parts is one cause of females oftener 
 suffering from this awful malady than males. 
 
 It is very generally supposed that con- 
 stantly exposing any part of the body to the 
 air, hardens it, as it is termed, so that it is 
 not effected by changes of temperature ; 
 and, to a certain extent, this is undoubtedly 
 correct. Persons who have always had the 
 neck uncovered, are certainly not as liable 
 to take cold in that particular part, as those 
 who suddenly lay aside a covering for it 
 which they have long been accustomed to 
 wear. 
 
 There are parts of the body which seem 
 calculated by nature to be always uncovered, 
 as the face and hands ; and they are abun» 
 
 M 
 
134 
 
 dantly supplied with blood which enables 
 them to bear changes of temperature with 
 impunity. But the same cannot be said of 
 the trunk of the body, which is evidently 
 intended to be protected from cold by suita- 
 ble garments, as it contains important or- 
 gans which are powerfully influenced by the 
 application of cold to the surface, and none 
 more than the lungs ; of course, the farther 
 man departs from the hardy state of the 
 savage, the more it becomes necessary to 
 guard his trunk from inclemencies of wea- 
 ther. But I shall not go farther into this 
 subject, or attempt to decide on the propri- 
 ety or impropriety of female dress as it 
 respects the neck. I will only caution you 
 against a practice which is fraught with 
 danger, and not unfrequently gives rise to 
 diseases which are often fatal. I refer to 
 the habit among some females of keeping 
 the neck covered in winter with a warm 
 shawl or some other article during the morn- 
 ing, and when not in full dress, and laying 
 it aside in the evening, or while at a party. 
 This is a most certain way to take severe 
 colds, and is altogether more dangerous 
 than exposing the neck at all times, as you 
 can at once imagine. I have known a lovely 
 girl of seventeen or eighteen to be seized, 
 in consequence of such imprudence, with an 
 
135 
 
 inflammation of the lungs terminating in 
 consumption, which in less than six weeks 
 hurried her from all the gaieties and plea- 
 sures of the brightest period of human 
 existence, to the awful realities of another 
 world. I repeat again and again, nature 
 will not be too far tempted with impunity. 
 Much she often will put up with, but there 
 are bounds beyond which we cannot pass 
 without paying the ruinous price of our 
 folly. 
 
 The next point to which I would direct 
 your attention, is the clothing for the feet. 
 It has long been observed that exposure of 
 the lower extremities to cold and moisture, 
 is a common cause of colds ; and almost 
 every physician will tell you that females 
 are much more liable to suffer from such 
 exposure than males. The reason of this 
 greater liability it is unnecessary to explain, 
 as it is sufficient that the fact is generally 
 admitted. Is it not reasonable, then, that 
 the feet of females should at least be as 
 carefully protected from cold and moisture, 
 as those of the other sex ? But are they in 
 fact ? Look at the thousands you daily meet 
 in the streets during the cold seasons of the 
 year, muffled up in a warm cloak and their 
 heads protected by a padded hood, with 
 either silk or cotton stockings and prunella 
 
136 
 
 shoes, the bottoms of which, are frequently 
 but little thicker than paper ; while the 
 feet and ancles of gentlemen are effectu- 
 ally guarded by substantial leather. Here 
 the order of things is completely reversed J 
 the robust are covered and the delicate 
 exposed — and this, let me tell you, is no 
 unfrequent cause of coughs and consump- 
 tions, not to mention a host of minor mala- 
 dies, originating in the same thing. 
 
 The explanation of this is not difficult. — 
 By exposing the lower extremities to cold, 
 while the upper parts of the body are kept 
 warm, the blood is driven in an undue quan- 
 tity to the chest and head, and predisposes 
 to inflammation in these parts. But this is 
 not all ; females suffer far more from this 
 unequal distribution of blood than men ; of 
 course it is little less than madness to expose 
 their feet as they do. 
 
 It is always painful to me to admit that 
 our females are in any respect behind those 
 of any other equally civilized country ; but 
 considerable observation compels me to ac- 
 knowledge that in consulting their own 
 health and comfort as regards their feet, 
 they are far behind almost every other. In 
 meeting ladies in our streets in chilly, damp 
 weather, I have often drawn a humiliating 
 comparison between their flimsy shoes and 
 
137 
 
 the more substantial ones worn by ladies ill 
 Edinburgh, London, and Paris. Besides, 
 when the pavements are at all damp, you 
 seldom see the latter without pattens or 
 clogs. 
 
 Now almost every traveller will tell you 
 that the females of the last mentioned pla- 
 ces, are decidedly more healthy than our 
 own — of course better fitted to bear expo- 
 sure with impunity ; and yet you see them 
 carefully guarding extremities, which the 
 delicate, fragile beings among us seem to 
 delight in exposing with the merest apology 
 for a covering. There is scarcely a medical 
 man who has not seen, alas, in too many 
 instances, the fatal effects of this gross im- 
 prudence. I will relate a single instance or 
 two of the evident effects of cold and mois- 
 ture to the lower extremities. 
 
 In the winter of 18 — , Miss P. came to 
 
 , to spend several months with her 
 
 uncle's family. She was scarcely eighteen, 
 rather tall, but finely formed, with regular 
 features, a remarkably pleasing expression 
 of countenance, and a great deal of that 
 natural ruddiness, indicative of perfect 
 health, so common to the young ladies of a 
 salubrious section of country where she had 
 resided from her infancy. 
 
 It was very gay that winter at , and 
 
 M* 
 
138 
 
 Miss P. entered into all the mirthful scenes of 
 the season with the enthusiastic ardor pecu- 
 liar to her age and sex. She sung well ; 
 she danced elegantly — an amusement of 
 which she was immoderately fond ; in fact, 
 she was the animating spirit of every circle 
 she entered, and the admiration of all. 
 There was a degree of artlessness and 
 childish ingenousness in all she said or did; 
 a playfulness and thoughtlessness of manner, 
 that immediately won the affections of those 
 of her age, while they drew the kind and in- 
 dulgent smile from those of riper years. She 
 appeared innocent as the sportive lamb, and 
 
 **Like the gay birds, 
 
 Content and careless of to-morrow's fare.'' 
 
 Toward the close of winter, there was to 
 be a large ball, at which all the beauty and 
 fashion of were to be present. Con- 
 siderable efforts were made to render this 
 more brilliant than any thing that had pre- 
 ceded it, as it would probably be the last of 
 the season, and was to serve as a sort of 
 climax to the winter festivities. 
 
 For several days previous to the ball. Miss 
 P. had been constantly engaged in arrang- 
 ing her dress, and for as many nights she had 
 slept but a few hours, her mind was so filled 
 with delightful anticipations. Indeed, the 
 
139 
 
 excitement had been so great, that on the 
 morning of the wished for day she looked 
 so pale as to attract ths attention of her 
 aunt, who said she \srs confident she was 
 not well, and entreated her not to go to the 
 ball. To this, however, slie would not listen, 
 and assured her aunt tlat she never was 
 better. After breakfast, she was less pale, 
 but during the day her looks continued to 
 awaken the fears of the family, who endea- 
 vored, m vain, to persuade her to remain at 
 home. 
 
 Early in the evenmg she went to her 
 chamber to dress herself, T^ith the assistance 
 of a servant maid, who went to a large 
 drawer to get her stockings, into which, 
 by some unaccountable mistake, a large 
 quantity of wet linen had aeen placed. She 
 immediately exclaimed, " Miss P. you cannot 
 wear these stockings, for a'l the wet things 
 have been lying upon them." When the 
 above mentioned articles were produced, 
 they proved to be very damp, and the 
 maid proposed carrying thein down and dry- 
 ing them by the fire, to which Miss P. ob- 
 jected, saying, that if her aunt should dis- 
 cover that they were damp, she would not 
 let her wear them, and furthermore, that 
 there was not time ; and saying she knew 
 
140 
 
 they would not hurt her, and telling the girl 
 not to mention it, she put them on. 
 
 When she first altered the gay circle that 
 evening, her cheeks were glowing with 
 excitement, and she never appeared more 
 lovely and interesting. Dancing did not 
 immediately commence, and she was seated 
 beside several of her companions at some 
 little distance from the fire. The night was 
 very cold, and the room was not suflSciently 
 warm. In a short time, the color had faded 
 perceptibly from her cheek, and she com- 
 plained of feeling very languid and chilly. 
 She took a seat near the fire, but could not 
 get warm. Her altered appearance now 
 attracted general attention, and as severe 
 pains began to shoot through her back 
 and limbs, she could no longer conceal the 
 fact that she was very unwell. At first, 
 some cordials irere given her to restore 
 warmth, but she grew rapidly worse, and 
 was soon after taken home to her uncle's. 
 
 My friend. Dr. was sent for, and the 
 
 whole matter now came out. She had been 
 so much excited for several days previous, 
 that her system had been enfeebled by it, 
 and while in this state, the damp stockings 
 had produced a cold of no ordinary violence. 
 An inflammatory fever, which seemed to vent 
 
141 
 
 its whole fury upon the left hip joint, was 
 the consequence. 
 
 She was copiously blcrl, and took the most 
 ictive medicines with bat partial relief, and 
 lier sufferings became excruciating. So 
 nuch so, indeed, that her screams were 
 often heard at a coisiderable distance from 
 the house. It is difficult to conceive the 
 torture which this ineresting creature under- 
 went for many da;s, in spite of powerful 
 anodynes, or that he constitution could have 
 sustained so much. When I first saw her 
 the disease had sper its violence, but it was 
 found that the thigh one had been dislocated 
 upward, by the inflarmation and subsequent 
 alteration of its soket, and it became a 
 painful duty to infori the connexions of this 
 once blooming and ative girl, that she must 
 be a cripple for life. 
 
 Of course she w^asiot made acquaintecl 
 with her real condibn till she was able 
 to leave the room, ith the assistance of 
 crutches. She then fmd that the left limb 
 was some inches sh*ter than the right, 
 but w4ien she was at ist informed that it 
 would probably neve be restored to its 
 original length, the lental agony which 
 it occasioned, was incfecribable. In time, 
 however, she became iconciled to her fate, 
 but her gay spirit was bken ; she could no 
 
142 
 
 longer join in the mazy dance, or participate 
 with her wonted pleasure in the amusements 
 of her age. She knew that a single impro- 
 priety had brought an awful calamity upon 
 her, and dashed from her youthful imagina- 
 tion, the bright visions of her early years; 
 and when any act of warked imprudence 
 was mentioned, she would cast her eyes 
 mournfully upon her diftorted hmb, and a 
 deep sigh would escape her, that told how 
 bitterly she felt the meancholy consequen- 
 ces of her own thoughtessness. 
 
 This is only a solitay case ; but I leave 
 you to draw your own iferences from it, and 
 I call upon you as a mcher to examine this 
 subject in its true light and as you value 
 your own happiness an that of your daugh- 
 ters, to enforce upon tem, both by precept 
 and example, the rjcessity of studying 
 health and comfort mfe than appearances, 
 in the covering of th^ feet. 
 
 During my resideie in Paris, I became 
 accidentally acquaintl with a very respect- 
 able young man, wl kept a fancy good 
 store in the Palais loyal ; and during my 
 occasional evening unge in this world-in- 
 miniature, sometim^ stopped at his bou- 
 tique to chat about t^ news of the day, or 
 the peculiarities of n own immense country 
 so much admired a* talked of by all the 
 
143 
 
 well-informed French. He had taken con- 
 siderable pains to store his mind with useful 
 knowledge, and was far from being a novice 
 in the history and present condition of Ame- 
 rica. His manners were mild and amiable, 
 3ut less sprightly and vivacious than many 
 3f his countrymen, and his brow wore the 
 appearance of thoughtfulness, bordering at 
 :imes perhaps on melancholy, which had a 
 :endency to excite my curiosity, though I 
 brbore to enquire the cause. Perhaps it 
 vas from the impressions of his infancy, for 
 lis father perished in the sanguinary strug- 
 gle between the Parisians and the allied 
 brces on the heights of Montmartre, and 
 lis mother who had been deprived of almost 
 5very connexion during the awful period of 
 I revolution, whose horrors are unparalleled 
 n the pages of history, had sunk into the 
 ^rave from a lingering illness sometime 
 ifter the restoration of the Bourbons. 
 
 But his boutique had other attractions 
 )eside its interesting master, and the splen- 
 lid wares with which it was filled. He 
 lad a sister who assisted him behind the 
 ;ounter, as is so customary in the French 
 'apital, who excited a far more lively 
 nterest in the passing beholder, than all the 
 mostly articles with which she was sur- 
 
144 
 
 rounded. She was eighteen or nineteen, 
 rather under size, with pleasing features, 
 brunette complexion, an abundance of na- 
 tural color, and sparkling black eyes that 
 beamed with all the cheerfulness and gaiety 
 of her nation. In a word, she was what 
 they appropriately call une hrune piquante. 
 Her manners were of that gentle and win- 
 ning character for which the Parisian women 
 are justly celebrated ; and in conversation 
 she possessed a large share of the spright- 
 liness and volubility peculiar to her sex. 
 
 I knew nothing of them except what 1 
 saw, but was disposed as a traveller to cul- 
 tivate an agreeable acquaintance, merely 
 because I found it afforded me a momentary 
 pleasure : but in the end I was convinced 
 that they were not unworthy of my friend- 
 ship. In one respect they differed materi- 
 ally from the mass of Parisians. The} 
 were Protestants ; and to their mother thej 
 were indebted for a very pious education 
 which I have no doubt had its full influence 
 upon them. They regularly attended at th( 
 Oritoire on Sunday, (the church of the elo- 
 quent Massillon, which since the restoratior 
 has been given to the Protestants,) and al 
 ways spoke of things of a religious nature 
 in a manner that indicated any thing bu; 
 cold indifilireuce. 
 
145 
 
 That they were very fond of each other 
 no one could doubt ; and as he was several 
 years older than his sister, he seemed to 
 consider her as his charge ; and even in his 
 moments of seriousness, little short of sad- 
 ness judging from his countenance, he would 
 listen to her pretty chit-chat and frequent 
 sallies of innocent wit, with a sort of parental 
 kindness which plainly showed the gentle- 
 ness and excellence of his heart. 
 
 There is a degree of playfulness and evi- 
 dent desire to please in the conversation of 
 French women, which has been noticed, I 
 believe, by most travellers; and it is granted 
 on all hands, that no language is better 
 adapted to their use, or is so full of neat 
 little expressions, and will admit of talking 
 so long W' ithout actually saying any thing %m 
 Uieiif mvm It seems to be the great study 
 of their lives to render themselves aimdble 
 or pleasing to the other sex ; and their whole 
 deportment forms a striking contrast to the 
 apparent coldness and stateliness of English 
 women, though I am free to acknowledge 
 that in my estimation the former are com- 
 monly much less lovely than the latter (I 
 mean to the reflecting man,) inasmuch as 
 they are far more frivolous and heartless. 
 But to return to the Palais Royal. For 
 
 N 
 
146 
 
 some time I had seen nothing of my friend 
 and his sister, when one evening as I was 
 passing the door of his boutique, I met him 
 standing near the iron raihng which sepa- 
 rates the shops from the gardens, looking 
 mournfully at the water that was playing in 
 the fountain, for the glittering drops as they 
 fell back into the basin were strongly illu- 
 minated by a clear moon light, producing a 
 most pleasing effect. As I accosted him 
 with the usual '*bon soir," he turned and 
 exclaimed, *' Ah, Monsieur, ma soeur est 
 ittorte !" ''Dead!" said I, repeating the 
 words after him. " Oh, how sudden ! what 
 was the cause of it?" " Oui Monsieur," 
 said he, " elle est morte ; si jeune et si 
 amiable !" In a moment he spoke freely on 
 tlie subject, (for the French in affliction 
 are not like the English in abstaining, as. 
 much as possible from all mention of the 
 cause of their grief,) and I drew from him 
 the following particulars : 
 
 About two weeks previous, she had been 
 as usual on Sunday to the Oritoire. The 
 day was wet and the water was running like 
 a river in the middle of the Rue St. Ilonore, 
 and notwithstanding her feet were protected 
 by a species of wooden over-shoes, much 
 worn by the Parisians, they had become 
 
147 
 
 very wet from the splashing of the carriages ; 
 and sitting with them upon the cold marble 
 pavement of the church during the service, 
 she had taken a severe cold which brought 
 on inflammation of the bowels, rapidly ter- 
 minating in mortification and death. 
 
 Thus had this unfortunate young man 
 been suddenly deprived of his last near con- 
 nexion, by the application of cold and mois- 
 ture to the feet ; and the rose and honey- 
 suckle now bloom at Pere la Chaise, where 
 repose the ashes of this once gay and inter- 
 esting creature. 
 
 Never shall I forget the melancholy tone 
 with which he repeated the words, " si jeune 
 et si aim able !" and the deep sighs which 
 followed. 
 
 The French are accused of want of sen- 
 sibility, because their grief is not of that 
 silent, gloomy cast like our own. But this is 
 a harsh decision. That their sorrow differs 
 somewhat from ours, I admit, for they are 
 more willing that it should be assuaged, and 
 generally speak more freely about it. But 
 I have witnessed the interments at Pere la 
 Chaise, and the torrents of unfeigned tears 
 shed over a lifeless friend too often, to 
 believe that their feelings are not intense at 
 such a moment. That they are not forget- 
 ful of the deceased, the diversified nionu- 
 
148 
 
 ments, from^he simple slab to the richly 
 decorated temple, and the shrubs and flowers, 
 cultivated with great care, attest in that 
 most charming of all receptacles for the 
 dead — Pere la Chaise. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 EFFECTS OF EDUCATION AND EXAMPLE. 
 
 INFLUENCE OP EDUCATION UPON THE CONDUCT — - 
 DANGER OF EXTREMES OF RESTRAINT AND IN- 
 DULGENCE THE CLERv:jYMAN's SON THE PRO- 
 FLIGATE THE REFORMATION THE DRAUGHT OF 
 
 LAUDANUM — THE FATAL RENCONTRE. 
 
 It has often been a subject of surprise to 
 me, when I have seen the children of well- 
 informed persons bring disgrace upon them- 
 selves and family, that the real cause of 
 their conduct, viz : a bad education, has not 
 been at all suspected by their parents. The 
 reason probably is, that we are never w illing 
 to believe that the misdeeds of others can 
 in any respect depend upon ourselves ; yet 
 I am convinced that the grand reason why a 
 large proportion of children disappoint the 
 expectations of their friends, is the manner 
 in which they have been brought up ; and I 
 daily see fresh proofs of the correctness of 
 the saying of the wise man, '*' train up a 
 child in the way he should go, and when he 
 is old he will not depart from it." Com- 
 mon sense and experience teach us that 
 this consists neither in going to the extreme 
 
 N* 
 
150 
 
 of indulgence on the one hand or of severity 
 on the other. 
 
 It is a common remark that such and 
 such persons, who have fallen into great 
 errors, were born of respectable parents, 
 and have been well educated. Of course, 
 their conduct is attributed to natural weak- 
 ness or vicious propensities, when, if you 
 could go into their families, and be intimately 
 acquainted with all the particulars of their 
 early life, you would find a sufficient explan- 
 ation for their conduct without going further. 
 Something, I grant, depends upon natural 
 propensities ; but far less, perhaps, than is 
 commonly supposed. 
 
 That those who have been properly 
 brought up may sometimes be led astray by 
 vicious companions after they are beyond 
 parental control, there is no doubt ; but it 
 is one of the most valuable effects of a good 
 education to guard one from seductions of 
 this kind. Is a young man temperate and 
 virtuous from principle, he is not apt to 
 choose the drunkard or libertine for his as- 
 sociate. Has he always found happiness 
 in the bosom of his family, he will rarely 
 seek the haunts of dissipation to kill time or 
 brutalize himself by midnight debaucheries. 
 The first step towards gross vices will be 
 painful to him, and he will involuntarily turn 
 
151 
 
 back to the innocent pleasures which bind 
 his heart to the scenes of his childhood. 
 The instructions of his parents will be a 
 mentor within his bosom, always ready to 
 reprove him if he yields to temptation, and 
 to renew to his recollection the pure joys of 
 virtuous actions. A combination of circum- 
 stances may involve such a man in vicious 
 habits, but cases of the kind are, I believe, 
 very rare ; and prove more the frailty of 
 human nature than the inefRcacy of proper 
 education. 
 
 An argument often raised against the 
 opinion just advanced, is that the sons of 
 the most religious people, and even of cler- 
 gymen, now and then turn out badly. To 
 this I can reply, that I have seen several 
 remarkable instances of this sort, in every 
 one of which lam fully persuaded the fault 
 was still in a great measure that of edu- 
 cation. It was not that moral principles 
 w^ere not early and zealously inculcated — it 
 was not that a pattern of strict morality was 
 
 wanting before them ; but it was the austere 
 
 • • • 1 
 
 manner in which those principles were incul- 
 cated, and the marked desire of the parents 
 to put old heads on young shoulders — to dis- 
 countenance all the innocent amusements of 
 youth, and instead of participating in their 
 little pleasures, and bestowing an approving 
 
152 
 
 smile upon their childish pastimes, treating 
 them with decided disapprobation, and keep- 
 ing the thoughtless beings at an awful dis- 
 tance from them. Children may fear, but 
 they will never really respect or esteem those 
 who are a damper to their mirthful moments, 
 or venerate principles which apparently ren- 
 der those who are governed by them less 
 cheerful and happy. 
 
 I cannot forbear mentioning two instan- 
 ces in confirmation of these remarks which 
 occurred in my native place, and immedi- 
 ately under my own eye. 
 
 The first was the only son of a clergyman, 
 of distinguished learning and talents, and 
 an arduous teacher of what he considered to 
 be the truths of Christianity. That he was 
 a good man, no one doubted ; but his mind 
 was strongly tinctured with some peculiar 
 doctrines, which seemed to influence his 
 whole character and conduct. One of the 
 most remarkable of these was, that we 
 ought to be perfectly willing to suffer eter- 
 nal punishment, if the justice of heaven 
 required it. 
 
 There is a degree of absurdity in this 
 doctrine that is really astonishing. That 
 any rational being should so entirely lose 
 sight of his own happiness, and the inten- 
 tions of the great Author of his existence, as 
 
153 
 
 to be willing to be banished from all that is 
 perfectly holy, and to take up his abode 
 among damned spirits, appears as repug- 
 nant to every principle of nature and com- 
 mon sense, as it is inconsistent with the pre- 
 cepts of Christianity. 
 
 But to proceed — he was exceedingly grave 
 in his deportment, and seemed to think every 
 thing gay and thoughtless as awfully pro- 
 fane. His family (for he had several daugh- 
 ters,) assumed the most studied sobriety in 
 his presence ; not a loud laugh or a merry 
 saying was heard, and the looks of all be- 
 spoke how little his company was desirable. 
 It could not be said of him, 
 
 ** He still remembered that he once was young, 
 Kis easy presence checked eo decent joy." 
 
 His children read the bible, repeated their 
 catechism, and said their prayers with the 
 most rigid exactness, though it was not diffi- 
 cult to perceive how little these tasks were 
 relished; and many persons would have 
 thought, that if the father did not expect 
 them to perform works of supererrogation, 
 he was at least determined to lead them 
 to Heaven, whether they would or no* 
 The effect of all this was, to make them 
 hypocrites at a very early age, for they 
 could assume a most sanctimonious length 
 of face in the presence of their father, but 
 
154 
 
 were, when out of his reach, or from home, 
 proverbially the wildest children in the place! 
 
 In their infancy they had sustained an 
 irreparable loss in the death of an amiable 
 and excellent mother, and were thus de- 
 prived of the invaluable instructions and 
 kind admonitions which none but a mother 
 can give. 
 
 The son, at a very early age, exhibited 
 the pernicious effects of the rigid system I 
 have described. Deception appeared to be 
 the first lesson he had well learned ; and he 
 knew how to practice it with remarkable 
 adroitness whenever it suited his conven- 
 ience. He was a notorious liar, was several 
 times guilty of petty theft, and, as mav be 
 supposed, grew up with the most marked 
 dislike to every thing of a religious nature. 
 But I will dwell no longer upon his char- 
 acter. Suffice it to say, he did not disap- 
 point the expectations of those who believe 
 that 
 
 •* Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined." 
 
 and unless he is completely reformed since I 
 have lost sight of him, he is neither a comfort 
 to his family, nor an honor to his species. 
 
 The second instance was that of the son 
 of a very pious and worthy man, whose 
 religious creed was not unlike that of the 
 
155 
 
 clergyman of whom I have just spoken, and 
 who acted up to it in all matters, with the 
 most scrupulous exactness. He was not a 
 man of remarkably strong mind, but deserv- 
 edly respected for his conscientious life. 
 The subject of my remarks was the eldest 
 of several sons, and it was the sincere de- 
 sire of his father, to make him a paragon 
 of sobriety and virtue. He was educated 
 in the strictest way, heard nothing from 
 morning till night but dissertations upon the 
 great wickedness and folly of youth, the 
 corruption of the world, the vanity of all 
 sublunary enjoyments, the awful denun- 
 ciations against sin, the torments of the 
 damned, &c. 
 
 He was cautiously hindered from associ- 
 ating with others of his age, and debarred 
 all their allowable amusements ; in fact, 
 every method that the most misguided ima- 
 gination could invent, was adopted to make 
 him all that his father could desire. But 
 alas, the vanity of human hopes ! He was 
 destined to be a disgrace and a curse to his 
 family, and almost to bring down his pa- 
 rent's grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. 
 As soon as he was old enough to think and 
 act for himself, he evinced the most uncon- 
 querable aversion to the religious opinions 
 of his father, spurned from him all parental 
 
156 
 
 restraint, and, us if to avenge himself for 
 the pleasures of early life, of which he had 
 been deprived, plunged headlong into every 
 species of dissipation and extravagance. 
 The excesses of which he was guilty, 1 
 shall not describe, and will only remark, 
 that he never listened, for a moment, to the 
 admonitions of his father, but when he had 
 need of fresh supplies — or gave him a pro- 
 mise of reformation, but for the sake of 
 forcing from him the means of indulging his 
 desires. Had not his health given way in 
 the midst of his career, I hav^ no doubt he 
 would have brought ruin, as well as wretch- 
 edness upon his family; but he sunk, at the 
 age of four-and-twenty, into a premature 
 grave, the victim, as I firmly believe, of mis- 
 guided zeal and parental austerity. 
 
 I will now give you one or two exam- 
 ples of the effects of education of a different 
 kind. 
 
 Mr. ■ commenced the world poor, but 
 
 by great success in commercial transactions, 
 rapidly acquired an enormous fortune. He 
 married early, but his wife died, leaving him 
 two daughters^ neither of whom was yet ten 
 years old. Sometime after her death, he 
 took an unprincipled woman into his house, 
 with whom he lived several years, and began 
 to drink immoderately. He had an iron 
 
157 
 
 constitution, and as spirits lost their effect 
 upon him, he increased the quantity, till 
 at last he regularly drank more than a 
 quart of brandy a day, without erer entirely 
 losing the use of his limhr, or his mental 
 faculties. 
 
 In order to prevent the injurious influence 
 of this quantity of liquid fire upon his health, 
 he constantly mixed it with milk, and, 
 finally, with the exception of crackers, took 
 very little else for nourishment. 
 
 His morals were as depraved as his habits. 
 He lost no opportunity of overreaching and 
 oppressing his neighbors ; was shockingly 
 profane, and grossly vulgar and indecent 
 even in the presence of his children. Indeed, 
 I never knew a man of his wealth and infor- 
 mation who so justly merited the appellation 
 of " brute beastj^^ or whose conduct was 
 more disgusting. 
 
 Imagine to yourself the probable cflects 
 of such an example upon his daughters* 
 When the elder of the two had attained the 
 age of sixteen, she received the addresses of 
 a young lawyer, whose only object, I have 
 no doubt, was money, for he left her on her 
 father's refusing to make a settlement upon 
 her; and she, determined to consult her own 
 inclination, fell in love with the coachman, 
 and ran off with him. The father gave him- 
 o 
 
158 
 
 iself no further trouble about her than to pro- 
 nounce upon her the most awful maledic- 
 tions, and declare that she should never 
 have a shilling from him. 
 
 About this time, he was suddenly attacked 
 with an alarming hemorrhage, which seemed 
 to baffle every effort that could be made to 
 entirely suppress it. The quantity of blood 
 he lost, both by bleedings from the arm and 
 the disease, is almost incredible ; and though 
 the hemorrhage was checked when he had 
 apparently no more blood to loose, the small- 
 est quantity of food or drink w^ould renew it. 
 It appeared that the blood-vessels, which 
 he had so long immoderately excited by his 
 enormous potations of brandy, had at length 
 completely lost their tone, and very little 
 hope was entertained of his recovery. His 
 mental agony was now truly awful, for he 
 had been informed of his real condition, 
 and its cause, and was in almost hourly 
 expectation of the last fatal struggle, which 
 he knew was the consequence of his own 
 guilt and folly. 
 
 At length the returns of hemorrhage be- 
 came less frequent, and there appeared some 
 chance of his life being prolonged a little : 
 but still the smallest quantity of food or 
 rdink occasioned such a distressing sense of 
 fullness of the blood-vessels, that he was iiji 
 
159 
 
 constant dread of being carried off by a gush 
 of blood. Death, in fact, seemed constantly 
 staring him in the face, and the fears with 
 which the awful prospect filled him, together 
 with the bitter remorse for his past life, ren- 
 dered his condition truly pitiable. 
 
 While in this frame of mind, he sent for a 
 preacher of universal salvation, and offered 
 him a large sum of money if he would con- 
 vince him of the truth of his doctrine, and 
 kept him in his house expounding the scrip- 
 tures to him for a considerable time. But 
 whether this botcher of wounded consciences 
 despaired of making an entire proselyte, or 
 doubted the fulfilment of the promise should 
 he succeed, I cannot say ; but he thought best 
 to imitate the children of this world in secu- 
 ring to himself the mammon of unrighteous- 
 ness while he had an opportunity, for he took 
 advantage of his situation of spiritual teacher 
 to appropriate to himself a considerable 
 amount of his pupil's temporalities, through 
 
 the unsuspecting character of Mr. 's 
 
 clerk, and suddenly disappeared. 
 
 Here then, my patient was not only stop- 
 ped short in the work of quieting his con- 
 science with the gratifying doctrine of all hap- 
 piness and no punishment hereafter, but also 
 not a little vexed at being grossly imposed 
 upon and defrauded by his favorite teacher. 
 
160 
 
 Soon after this occurrence, he had a long 
 interview with an old friend and companion 
 of his boyhood ; a man who for many years 
 had given abundant evidence of the strictest 
 integrity and undoubted piety, and the con- 
 sequence was, that he became fully convinced 
 of the folly of his pursuit after mental peace 
 without sincere repentance. He unhesi- 
 tatingly confessed the wickedness of his life, 
 and showed an earnest desire to make repa- 
 ration for his misdeeds. His jfirst step was 
 to put away the woman he had for years 
 kept in his house, v^ith a comfortable main- 
 tenance for life; and his next, to bring 
 home his runaway daughter, of whom I have 
 spoken. 
 
 She had gone with her lover to a retired 
 
 place, at a considerable distance from , 
 
 where he had taken a small new farm to 
 cultivate. They lived in a little log cabin, 
 and had felt the hard hand of want with 
 its full force. The romantic ideas of love 
 and a cottage, had been exchanged for the 
 less romantic sensations of limbs aching 
 from toil, and empty stomachs ; and in addi- 
 tion, they had both been attacked with the 
 slow-remitting fever, so common to new set- 
 tlements, which had reduced them to mere 
 shadows of mortality. 
 
 When the daughter was brought home, 
 
161 
 
 and led with faultering steps into the apart- 
 ment of her father, he burst into tears, and 
 throwing his feeble arms around her ema- 
 ciated form, said, with groans and sobs, 
 ** It is all my fault, my child, and it shall be 
 my business, so far as it is possible, to repair 
 the evil I have done." He saw, with a pa- 
 rent's anguish, a child led far astray, for 
 want of parental instruction, and he vowed 
 in the bitterness of his grief, if his life should 
 be spared, to make ample atonement. The 
 coachman, too, who was now made legally 
 his son-in-law, and who was, in the main, a 
 deserving young' man, though he had been 
 guilty of a serious error, received full par- 
 don, and an assurance of favor, of which, I 
 believe, he has ever since shown by the cor- 
 rectness of his life, he was not unworthy. 
 
 Mr. now began to take gentle exer- 
 cise in his carriasfe, and to the astonishment 
 of all who knew him, by total abstinence 
 from all stimulating drinks, and strict atten- 
 tion to diet, made gradual advances tow^ard 
 health, thus proving the fallacy of the state- 
 ment, that a life of systematic intemperance 
 cannot be suddenly and entirely abandoned 
 with safety. 
 
 Several years have now elapsed since the 
 
 period of which I speak, and Mr. , w4io 
 
 enjoys remarkably good health for one of 
 
162 
 
 his age, continues to bear the undoubted 
 fruits of an entire reformation. He is rigidly 
 temperate, sober and exemplary in his de- 
 portment, and a constant attendant on reli- 
 gious Vvorship, to the support of which he 
 liberally contributes, and I am happy to say, 
 his example has had the most salutary effect 
 upon his family. 
 
 His second daughter is respectably mar- 
 ried, and he is surrounded with several 
 grand-children, who are the solace of his 
 age, and stand a much better chance of 
 being properly educated than did their mo- 
 thers. 
 
 If he brought disgrace upon himself, and 
 dishonor upon his house, by his early life, 
 he has now proved both the good and harm 
 that may be done by parental example, and 
 has given a lesson, more convincing of the 
 salutary influence of the Christian religion, 
 than the classic lectures of Blair, or the 
 reasonings of Paley. 
 
 The eflrects of education were strikingly 
 exhibited in the following case : 
 
 Miss was the only daughter of a 
 
 respectable merchant, who, as w^ell as his 
 wife, had a remarkably good constitution. 
 Indeed, I believe neither of them had ever 
 had a severe illness, or been much in the 
 hands of the doctor. 
 
163 
 
 They were decidedly people of the world 
 — immoderately fond of the theatre, a game 
 of whist, and a good supper — went to church 
 occasionally for the sake of appearances 
 — ridiculed the saints^ and always encou- 
 raged a joke, even if it required a downright 
 falsehood to make it take. 
 
 Miss was scarce ten years old 
 
 when ^he was regularly taken to the play, 
 for her father then resided in town ; and 
 though she was sent to very good schools, 
 knew more of Shakspeare and the comedies 
 of the day, at sixteen, than she did of gram- 
 mar and geography, not to mention history 
 and the higher branches of learning. She | 
 
 commonly made one at the supper table, - 
 
 and was pointed out by both parents as a 
 very shrewd and sensible girl. I perfectly 
 recollect one or two anecdotes of her, which 
 were related to me by her mother, as in- 
 stances of her remarkable cleverness. 
 
 When ten or eleven years old, she went 
 to a fruit store to purchase some apples, the 
 proprietor of which was often spoken of in 
 her hearing, as excessively close, and even 
 mean in his dealings. He asked two cents 
 a piece for the apples, and she took half-a- 
 dozen, giving him a piece of twelve-and-a- 
 half cents in payment. But as she saw that 
 he was a gainer of half a cent by the bargain. 
 
164 
 
 she managed to steal another apple while 
 his back was turned, to make the accoant 
 even, and told her mother of it as a good 
 trick. 
 
 At another time, a neighboring lady saw 
 her going out, and requested her to call at 
 the confectioners, and buy a quarter of a 
 pound of lemon candy for her, giving her at 
 the same time what she supposed it would 
 cost. When she had made the purchase, 
 she found that she had several cents more 
 than the price of the quarter of candy ; so 
 she laid them out in the same way, and ap- 
 propriated the proceeds to herself. When 
 she came home, she told her mother how 
 she had taken pay, as she termed it, for 
 executing the commission. 
 
 Both of these acts, instead of being pun- 
 ished as their dishonesty deserved, excited a 
 laugh, at what was called her cleverness in 
 taking care of number one ; and her mother, 
 when speaking of these '^ childish pranks" in 
 her presence, frequently added, addressing 
 herself to the daughter, '* good-for-nothing 
 creature" — '^ I wonder they did not choke 
 you" — " how dare you do so ?" &c. 
 
 While she was at school, I have been told 
 by her mates, that she was a notorious liar — 
 though her fiimily only believed her capable 
 of telling white lies ; and her whole moral 
 
165 
 
 education was of a piece with what I have 
 described. 
 
 At the age of eighteen, she was well 
 formed, and certainly fine looking, without 
 being beautiful — was acquainted with a good 
 deal of light reading, and to most observers, 
 of easy and agreeable manners ; but to the 
 more penetrating, she possessed a degree of 
 self-possession and disguised subtlety, alto- 
 gether inconsistent with the natural diffi- 
 dence and ingenuousness peculiar to her age, 
 which would involuntarily lead one to the 
 conclusion, that she was in a great measure 
 destitute of those fine sensibilities which ren- 
 der the sex so lovely in the eyes of men of 
 good principles, and that high-toned virtue 
 which shrinks from the very shadow of vice 
 or immorality. 
 
 About this time she received the addresses 
 of a young gentleman of highly respectable 
 connexions, and whose circuinstances, in 
 many respects, rendered him a very desira- 
 ble match. After a short time, they were 
 engaged, and the day fixed for the nup- 
 tials. 
 
 In the mean time, his business compelled 
 him to be absent for several months, and an 
 intercourse was kept up by frequent letters. 
 Now it was that her real character began to 
 develope itself, and her fondness for strata- 
 
166 
 
 gem and intrigue to get the ascendency over 
 her prudence and cunning. 
 
 How often do such persons, from a mere 
 love of dissimulation, and that restless spirit 
 which must always be playing at some game 
 or other, set a trap into which their own 
 sagacity does not prevent their falling ? 
 
 In order to increase her value in the esti- 
 mation of her lover, she had the folly to 
 represent to him that another gentleman 
 had recently become enamoured of her, and 
 that he daily haunted her wherever she 
 went. False as this tale was, she had the 
 indelicacy and vanity to embellish it with 
 numerous little accounts of the interesting 
 looks and tender speeches of her pre- 
 tended admirer — the pains he had taken to 
 meet her in the streets — to see her at her 
 window, &c. 
 
 All this had the effect of rendering her 
 intended very uneasy, and he requested the 
 name of his rival. This, however, she de- 
 clined giving, from a feigned compassion for 
 the unfortunate youth. 
 
 As may be supposed, such a want of confi- 
 dence was not altogether satisfactory, and 
 when Mr. returned, he took consi- 
 derable pains to obtain from her associates 
 and persons living in the neighborhood, such 
 information as might unravel the mystery. 
 
167 
 
 The result was, he came to the conclusion 
 that it was all a fabrication. 
 
 At his next interview with Miss , he 
 
 again urged her with much Avarmth, to give 
 his rival's name, which of course she could 
 not do ; and to acknowledge that it was all a 
 trick to teaze him, appeared to her the only 
 get-off. This, however, did not have the 
 desired effect. He was a man of sense 
 and good feelings, and would never have fan- 
 cied her, had he known her real character. 
 
 Such an exhibition of heartlessness and 
 want of veracity, filled him with disgust, 
 and the consequence was, that he broke off 
 the engagement, and left her to repent of 
 her folly at her leisure. 
 
 This was a tremendous blow, and the 
 more hard to support that it was entirely 
 unexpected. In fact, her thoughtlessness 
 had sprung a mine of her own contriving, 
 that had suddenly blown up and laid her 
 fondest hopes in ruins. Bitterly as she 
 felt this disappointment, w^hich would have 
 crushed the heart of many of her sex, her 
 pride compelled her to conceal her feelings, 
 and she appeared gayer than ever, and en- 
 deavored, by her conduct, to convince those 
 around her that she had in reality discarded 
 Mr. . At the same time, she had re- 
 solved in her heart te avenge herself for her 
 
168 
 
 disappointment, by marrying the first per- 
 son who should offer himself to her. 
 
 Mad as such a resolution may appear to 
 the reflecting mind, I believe cases in 
 which it is taken are not very unfrequent, 
 at least, several have come within my lim- 
 ited sphere of observation. It strongly re- 
 sembles the desperation of the gamester, 
 who is reduced to his last dollar ; or perhaps 
 more strongly, the fury of the savage, who 
 has been known to stab himself, when he 
 has found it impossible to destroy his anta- 
 gonist. 
 
 Not long after the event I have just 
 
 related, a young comedian came to , 
 
 to spend some time with one of his con- 
 nexions, for the improvement of his health. 
 His person was diminutive, and his coun- 
 tenance any thing but pleasing ; but he 
 took great pains to give himself all the ex- 
 ternal elegance which the tailor can bestow 
 — in a word, he was a great dandy, and evi- 
 dently desirous of impressing upon 'Others 
 the worth of the man, by the quality of his 
 wardrobe. He was excessively profligate, 
 and probably addicted to all the vices justly 
 laid to the charge of by far the greatest 
 portion of his profession. 
 
 By some accidental circumstances, he met 
 Miss , and in half an hour formed au 
 
169 
 
 acquaintance with her that was to termi- 
 nate in her wretchedness. 
 
 With the sagacity of a professed liber- 
 tine, he at once saw the possibility of pos- 
 sessing himself, by a little management, of 
 her person, and perhaps had some faint ex- 
 pectation of obtaining from her father some- 
 thing to support, for a time, his extrava- 
 gance, should he be obliged to marry her 
 to accomplish his wishes. At all events, 
 he determined upon the undertaking, and 
 prosecuted it with a systematic perseve- 
 rance, that is but too often successful. 
 
 From time to time they had clandestine 
 meetings, till at length, the intimacy was dis- 
 covered by her parents. It is unnecessary 
 to say that the pride of her family was ex- 
 cessively hurt by that discovery, and instead 
 of kindly admonition, her father loaded her 
 with abuse, and her mother attempted to 
 reform her by alternate coaxing and threat- 
 ening. All this she met with remarkable 
 nonchalance, and finally, by affected regret 
 for her conduct, and repeated assurances that 
 
 she had not the least partiality for Mr. , 
 
 succeeded in quieting the fears of her pa- 
 rents, while, at the same time, she was 
 firmly resolved to follow her own inclination, 
 and continued to see him almost nightly. 
 
 Mr, was made acquainted with all 
 
170 
 
 that had passed, and thought best to pro- 
 pose an immediate marriage, which took 
 place without being at all suspected by her 
 friends, for she continued at home as usuaL 
 
 Soon after this, her parents ascertained 
 that the intimacy still existed, and again 
 called her to an account. Dreading to let 
 the truth come out, she succeeded in con- 
 vincing them, strange as it may seem, that 
 their suspicions were groundless. She even 
 went so far as to represent the object of their 
 fears as a profligate fellow, whom she really 
 detested, and demanded of them whether 
 they had so degraded an opinion of their 
 daughter, as to suppose she would throw 
 herself away upon a worthless playactor. 
 They were completely deceived by her ap- 
 parent candor, and again became easy. 
 
 How long she would have played this 
 unaccountable game, had she been left to 
 her own way, it is difficult to imagine, for 
 she was so thoroughly practised in decep- 
 tion, that it had become a second nature to 
 her. But the time had now arrived that the 
 truth would out. Her husband was tired 
 of visiting her by stealth. The first grati- 
 fication of his conquest had worn off*, and he 
 at length declared that she was his wife. 
 
 To save herself from the disagreeable 
 scenes which the denouement would probably 
 
171 
 
 occasion, she considered it most safe to leave 
 home instantly, and took up her abode at 
 her husband's lodgings. 
 
 Nothing could equal the first burst of 
 feelings, when her parents were made ac- 
 quainted with what had taken place. It was 
 not the grief her death v/ould have pro- 
 duced ; it was a mixture of indignation, 
 rage, disappointment, offended pride and 
 sorrow, and, in the bitterness and extra- 
 vagance of the moment, they cursed their 
 child for her black deception ; for w^antonly 
 breaking every tie of nature ; for throwing 
 herself away — in a word, for acting up to 
 the principles they themselves had taught 
 her, and being what her education had made 
 her. 
 
 She heard of all this with perfect indif- 
 ference, and coolly replied, ''I guess they 
 will get over it." In fact, the strange in- 
 fatuatiiDn which had governed her conduct, 
 seemed to have destroyed all the ordinary 
 affections of a child, when placed in opposi- 
 tion to the indulgence of her capricious de- 
 sires. 
 
 Females are sometimes led into very great 
 errors by mere thoughtlessness, and that 
 alone is some palhation in their case ; but 
 thoughtlessness was not so much a charac- 
 teristic of Miss J as a determination to 
 
172 
 
 follow her own inclinations, and to make 
 every thing else bend to them. Was this 
 owing to her natural disposition, or was it 
 that she had been spoiled by indulgence ? 
 It is my full belief that it was 'principally 
 owing to the latter. 
 
 Previous to her marriage, I had been se- 
 veral times consulted on account of her 
 health, which, for two or three years, had 
 been growing decidedly delicate. She had 
 no fixed disease, but was feeble and nervous, 
 with occasional slight feverish attacks, and 
 a variety of symptoms which I do not hesi 
 tate to ascribe to the pernicious effects of 
 bad hours, hearty suppers, and immoderate 
 mental excitement, upon a forming consti- 
 tution. 
 
 I have said before, that her parents were 
 remarkably healthy, and, during her early 
 years, she had scarcely had a day's illness; 
 of course it is reasonable to conclude, that 
 had she been always led in the plain road 
 which common sense indicates, she would 
 have possessed an excellent constitution. 
 
 Very soon after she left the paternal roof, 
 her health became altogether worse. She 
 had now time to reflect coolly upon the step 
 she had taken, and she saw herself wholly 
 discarded by her parents, shunned by her 
 brothers, and the wife of a man as unprin- 
 
173 
 
 cipled as herself. The mortifying degrada^ 
 tion of her case, with perhaps some remorse 
 of conscience, operated powerfully on her 
 imdisciplincd spirit, and materially impaired 
 the powers of her system. 
 
 A few wrecks had passed on in this way, 
 when her husband, who had become tired of 
 her, told her one morning, that he was going 
 to a town ten miles off, and must take his 
 trunk with him. Not suspecting he would 
 remain long absent, she did not oppose him. 
 He had taken care, however, to pack up all 
 his best clothes the day before, and bidding 
 her a hasty good morning, he got into the 
 stage coach, and before the next day at 
 evening, was more than a hundred miles 
 from his wife, whom he left to pay the last 
 month's bill. 
 
 When she found she was forsaken, she 
 became perfectly frantic. She had forfeited 
 all claims upon her friends for the sake of a 
 scoundrel, and he had cast her from him as 
 a worthless burthen. She happened to have 
 a vial of laudanum in her possession, and in 
 the moment of desperation, drank it all. — 
 She had taken it but a short time, when the 
 rash act was discovered ; and then every 
 effort w^as made to save her from its effects. 
 
 Language cannot depict the condition of 
 this wretched female. Their apartment was 
 p* 
 
174 
 
 in utter confusion ; the drawers of a bureau 
 were half open, with their contents lying in 
 disorder, as if she had been searching for 
 her husband's linen — a trunk open in the 
 same condition — the table covered with a 
 variety of things, and articles of female 
 dress scattered about the floor — the bed had 
 not been made, and on a stand by the side 
 of it was a tumbler of water and a vial 
 which had contained the fatal draught — she 
 was pale and emaciated from bad health 
 and chagrin, and all attention to her per- 
 sonal appearance was neglected — her long 
 hair was confusedly scattered about her 
 neck and face, and she had thrown herself 
 in a half dressed state upon the bed, while 
 the laudanum, beginning to have its effect, 
 gave to her features, distorted with phrensy, 
 the most unearthly appearance. 
 
 But I will dwell no longer upon this pic- 
 ture of folly and desperation ; sufiice it to 
 say, an emetic dislodged the greater part of 
 the poison, and though she sunk into a state 
 of perfect insensibility, she ultimately awoke 
 like one come again from the dead, to all 
 the poignancy of keen disappointment and 
 an upbraiding conscience. 
 
 Was the punishment she had drawn upon 
 herself great ? Her guilt also was great : 
 yet far greater was the guilt of those who 
 
175 
 
 had given her being, and whose duty it was 
 to give her proper principles, but who had 
 spoiled her in bringing her up, and were 
 thus the undoubted cause of all her miscon- 
 duct and misery. 
 
 There is one reason why parents should 
 endeavor to educate their children properly ; 
 which, though entirely of a selfish nature, 
 one would thmk would be all-powerful if 
 viewed in its true light. I refer to the fact 
 that those w^ho fall into great errors in con- 
 sequence of neglect in this respect, seldom, 
 if ever, have any real affection, not to men- 
 tion tender attachment, for their parents. 
 The worst of parents expect that their chil- 
 dren will love them ; this is natural — and 
 nothing touches what sensibility they may 
 have so deeply — nothing so bitterly harrows 
 up the soul, as to find themselves entirely 
 disappointed. Ingratitude to the authors of 
 one's being, is condemned by all as the 
 blackest offence ; but when they have vio- 
 lated the bond of nature, by casting forth 
 their offspring upon a wicked world, without 
 imparting those principles which alone can 
 save from vice and afford the means of hap- 
 piness, they have forfeited their claim to 
 gratitude, and should not be surprised if 
 their children curse them for giving them 
 being, without giving them also that which 
 
176 
 
 alone can render it desirable. The natural 
 tendency of vicious habits, is to destroy all 
 fine feelings — and on the other hand, nothing 
 promotes them more than the practice of 
 virtue ; of course, children virtuously brought 
 up, must respect and love their parents. — 
 But as it is impossible to love what w^e do 
 not respect, those parents who, by their con- 
 duct lose the respect of their children, can- 
 not reasonably calculate upon their love ; 
 and those who, by their own immoral or dis- 
 solute lives, alienate their affections, must 
 unquestionably answer for much of their 
 consequent misconduct. In ordinary cases 
 it is often difficult or impossible to trace the 
 connexion betwixt cause and effect ; but 
 now and then we see instances where this 
 connexion is very apparent. 
 
 While I was spending the winter of 182- 
 
 in Paris, I became acquaint ed with Mr. , 
 
 who was the son of one of the most extensive 
 
 land proprietors in the province of . 
 
 His mother died in his infancy, and his 
 father took a female into his establishment 
 as a housekeeper, with whom he was on 
 such terms of intimacy as to disgrace him- 
 self in the estimation of the moral part of 
 society, and to forfeit all claims to the 
 respect of his children. 
 
 Wben but a lad, with a moderate edu- 
 
177 
 
 cation, Mr. left the place of his nati- 
 vity and engaged as a clerk to the North 
 West Fur Company, under Lord Selkirk, 
 where he was likely to acquire habits 
 and modes of thinking, better fitted for a 
 savage than a civilized life. 
 
 While in this employment, he had a trifling 
 quarrel with one of his comrades, and ac- 
 cording to the rules of honor was compelled 
 to accept his challenge, though, it is said, 
 with reluctance. They met, and he shot 
 his antagonist dead upon the spot. He was 
 next engaged in the rencontre which took 
 place between a party of Lord S.'s people, 
 and a party of the other company, com- 
 manded by Lord Semple, in which the latter 
 with several of his men, was killed. Some 
 of the leaders in this affair were tried for 
 
 murder at York, U. C. and Mr. fled to 
 
 the United States for safety, and resided for 
 several years in New York and Philadelphia, 
 living upon an allowance from his father, 
 without engaging in any business, but de- 
 voting his whole time to amusement. 
 
 After the affairs of the two fur companies 
 were settled, he returned home; but taking 
 the liberty on a particular occasion of expos- 
 tulating with his father, a quarrel ensued, 
 and he left him in disgust, with a deter- 
 mination to enter the Greek service. 
 
178 
 
 He arrived in France, and through the 
 intervention of a connexion in Paris, obtained 
 letters to Lord Cochrane, who was then about 
 to embark in the same cause. After an 
 interview with Lord C. he engaged his pas- 
 sage at Marseilles ; but in consequence of 
 various delays, and want of faith on the part 
 of the Greek agent, he became disgusted 
 with this undertaking, and returned to Paris. 
 
 I one day asked him how he could think of 
 engaging in the Greek service, in its present 
 condition. He replied he " would go to h — 
 for a profitable employment;" and to my 
 enquiry whether he thought of returning 
 home soon, he replied, no, " I shall never go 
 home again till the old man (meaning his 
 father) lays his head down." From this 
 remark, the light in which he viewed his 
 father may be easily perceived. 
 
 One morning, when seated at the ta- 
 ble of a cafe with some of his friends, 
 a person at another table took the liberty 
 of replying to some of their remarks in 
 English. Words ensued ; and finally the 
 stranger made an assault upon one of Mr. 
 
 's friends. He attempted to interpose; 
 
 a scuffle ensued, in which Mr. received 
 
 a fatal wound. 
 
 He was carried to a hotel, where he sur- 
 vived a few hours in dreadful sufferings, 
 
179 
 
 perfectly sensible of his fate, and was then 
 hurried to his account with scarcely an 
 opportunity of reflection or time for repent- 
 ance. 
 
 I cannot divest myself of the belief that 
 the singular life and untimely death of 
 this young man, depended in a great mea- 
 sure upon the manner in which he was 
 educated, and the conduct of his father. 
 That his natural disposition was not bad, I 
 am fully convinced from a great variety of 
 circumstances. He was frank, generous, 
 and remarkably disinterested in his inter- 
 course with his friends, considering the 
 rugged school into which he had entered at 
 an early period — the gloomy and savage 
 wilderness of the northwest, and the cha- 
 racter of his associates. He was gentle- 
 manly and amiable in his manners. Few 
 who have passed their whole life in the 
 circles of refinement and fashion, are so 
 easily moved by human suffering as he was, 
 or would so cheerfully share their last dollar 
 with the destitute. He had certainly re- 
 deeming qualities, and those of a capti- 
 vating nature. Though thoughtless, he was 
 not unfeeling — though reckless and impe- 
 tuous, he was brave and enterprising — and 
 his well-proportioned limbs and strongly 
 expressive features, bespoke him capable of 
 
180 
 
 those deeds of manly daring which, in the 
 estimation of many, cover a multitude of 
 faults: even the last act, which cost him his 
 life, was generous, in itself considered ; for 
 he threw himself between his friend, wha 
 was a weak man, and his more powerful 
 antagonist, voluntarily risking his own per- 
 son to defend that of another. His fate was 
 truly melancholy and awful — and though 
 immediately brought about by his own con- 
 duct, was unquestionably the remote conse- 
 quence of a bad education. 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 DEPRESSING PASSIONS. 
 
 THEIR EFFECTS, AND THE NECESSITY OF MENTAL 
 
 DISCIPLINE — OPINIONS OF LAENNEC BURSTING 
 
 OP A BLOODVESSEL. 
 
 The influence of the passions upon the 
 bodj, is altogether incalculable. Indeed, 
 the feeblest frame may be impelled by them 
 to inconceivable efforts, or the most robust 
 may be laid prostrate in the dust. This can 
 only be understood by considering the mys- 
 terious connexion between mind and mat- 
 ter, for it is the being within ourselves, that 
 
 ** Thrills with pleasure, or grows mad with pain, 
 And in its secret conclave, as it feels 
 The body's woes and joys ; this ruling power 
 Wields, at its will, the dull material world, 
 And is the body's health or malady.'' 
 
 Nothing so rapidly undermines the strength, 
 and lays open the system to the attacks of 
 disease, as the depressing passions — in the 
 front rank of which, may be placed, exces- 
 sive grief; but as it is not my intention to 
 enter into a full examination of this subject, 
 I shall only attempt to point out to you the 
 immense importance of that mental dis- 
 Q 
 
182 
 
 cipline, which will enable us to meet the ad- 
 verse scenes of this life without sinkhig un- 
 der them. 
 
 As females, from the higher sensibility 
 with which they are endowed, their life of 
 retirement and solitude when compared 
 with that of the other sex, and the abun- 
 dant opportunities which they possess of 
 indulging their feelings, while men are 
 forced into the noise and bustle of the world, 
 stand most in need of this mental discipline, 
 it should be carefully attended to in their 
 earliest moments. They should be taught to 
 familiarize themselves, to a certain extent, 
 with scenes of distress, and to contemplate 
 those events which may happen unto all — 
 adversities of fortune, the loss of friends, 
 &c. But above all, they should receive 
 those principles of virtue and piety, with a 
 full conviction of the justice and wisdom of 
 every dispensation of Providence, on which 
 alone, anything like proper mental discipline 
 must depend. All this must be of infinite 
 importance, if it is only to fit them the bet- 
 ter for this life. That it will be sufficient 
 to bear them uninjured above every afflic- 
 tion, can scarcely be expected ; for there 
 are those which crush the human heart at 
 once, the stroke of which may be compared 
 to the resistless thunderbolt. But far the 
 
183 
 
 greatest proportion of our calamities come 
 not without some premonition, and thus give 
 us a Uttle time, if I may so speak, for rally- 
 ing our powers to meet them. 
 
 There is one custom, (and, I regret to 
 say, it is, to a certain extent, fashionable,) 
 which is often attended with pernicious con- 
 sequences. I allude to that of ladies in 
 affliction, shutting themselves up in their 
 houses for a certain number of months, and 
 thus excluding themselves entirely from all 
 society. Now, this is only adding gloom 
 and melancholy to grief, and should not be 
 encouraged. The duties we owe to our- 
 selves and those around us, are greater than 
 those we ow^e to the dead, and should prompt 
 us to every exertion to surmount our feel- 
 ings. We should imitate the King of Israel, 
 after the death of a favorite child, rather 
 than sacrifice the interests of our famiHes, 
 and our own health, by immoderate grief. 
 
 One of the most common effects of the 
 depressing passions, is deranged digestion : 
 but they often lay the foundation of far more 
 dangerous maladies. 
 
 The celebrated Laennec says, *^ among 
 the occasional causes of phthisis, I know of 
 none of more assured operation than the 
 depressing passions, particularly if strong, 
 and of long continuance ; and it is worthy 
 
184 
 
 of remark, that it is the same cause which 
 seems to contribute most to the develop- 
 ment of cancers, and all other accidental 
 productions, which are not analogous to any 
 of the natural tissues. This is, perhaps, 
 the only cause of the greater frequency of 
 consumption in large cities. In these, the 
 single circumstance of the inhabitants hav- 
 ing more numerous relations with one ano- 
 ther, is, in itself, a cause of more frequent 
 and deeper vexation; while the greater 
 prevalence of immorality of every kind, is a 
 constant source of disappointment and mis- 
 ery, which no kind of consolation, and not 
 even time itself can effectually remove." 
 
 ''I had under my own eyes, during a pe- 
 riod of ten years, a most striking example 
 of the effect of the depressing passions, in 
 producing phthisis, in the case of a religious 
 association of women, of recent foundation, 
 which never obtained from the ecclesias- 
 tical authorities, any other than a provi- 
 sional toleration; on account of the extreme 
 severity of its rules. The diet of these per- 
 sons was certainly very austere, but it was, 
 by no means, beyond what nature could bear. 
 But the ascetic spirit which regulated their 
 minds, was such as to give rise to conse- 
 quences no less serious than surprising. Not 
 only was the attention of these women ha- 
 
185 
 
 bitually fixed on the most terrible truths of 
 religion, but it was the constant practice to 
 try them by every kind of contrariety and 
 opposition, in order to bring them, as soon as 
 possible, to an entire renouncement of their 
 own will." 
 
 He says the consequences were the same 
 in all, and after four or five months in the 
 establishment, consumption invariably mani- 
 fested itself. 
 
 ^^ As no vow was taken in this society, I 
 endeavored to prevail on the patients to 
 leave the house as soon as the consumptive 
 symptoms began to appear, and almost all 
 those who followed my advice were cured, 
 although some of them exhibited well 
 marked indications of the disease. During 
 the ten years that I was physician to this 
 association, I witnessed its entire renovation 
 two or three different times, owing to the 
 successive loss of all its members, with the 
 exception of a small number, consisting 
 chiefly of the superior, the grate-keeper, and 
 the sisters w^ho had charge of the garden, 
 kitchen and infirmary. It will be observed, 
 that these individuals were those who had 
 the most constant distraction from their re- 
 ligious tasks, and that they also went out 
 pretty often into the city, on business con- 
 nected with the establishment." 
 
186 
 
 Most physicians, I believe, have seen 
 cases which go to prove the correctness of 
 the opinions of Laennec, and now and then 
 they are called to witness those melancholy 
 instances to which I have alluded, in which 
 nature sinks at once under the suddenness 
 of the calamity, and either the mind is 
 forced from her seat, or the whole system 
 sustains a shock from which it never re- 
 covers. 
 
 In 182-, I was requested to attend Miss 
 Anna — — , aged about nineteen, rather 
 small, w^ith dark hair and eyes, an oval 
 face, and v/hat had been a beautiful pink and 
 white complexion. She was evidently la- 
 boring under confirmed consumption. Her 
 history, which I heard from her friends, was 
 to me replete with interest. 
 
 From the age of seventeen, an attach- 
 ment had existed between her and a Worthy 
 young man four or five years older than her- 
 self, which appeared so mutual, so tender, 
 so undivided, that it attracted the attention, 
 and was often the topic of conversation in 
 the whole neighborhood. 
 
 Her father, who was a respectable and in- 
 dependent farmer, lived in a very charming 
 but retired situation. His house was neat 
 and commodious, placed upon a pretty emi- 
 nence, in front of which was a broad and 
 
187 
 
 beautiful meadow, stretching about half a 
 mile to the right and left, here and there 
 interspersed with clumps of trees, and 
 through which a little rivulet flowed in 
 graceful meanderings. This meadow was 
 the bottom of a valley formed by gentle 
 hills on two sides, and was traversed near 
 the foot of one of these ranges, by an ex- 
 cellent road. It was not the property of a 
 single individual, but constituted a part of 
 several farms, and was abundantly irri- 
 gated by the rivulet. It w^as seldom that 
 any part of it required ploughing ; of course 
 from spring to autumn it presented a broad 
 expanse of the richest green. 
 
 In rear of the house was a considerable 
 ascent, constituting a part of the hills above 
 mentioned, and from its top, which was 
 covered with a grove of sugar maples, the 
 prospect was really delightful, taking in a 
 wide extent of the opposite hills, which were 
 principally devoted to tillage, with the mea- 
 dow forming a verdant carpet at their feet ; 
 numerous farm houses scattered here and 
 there ; a glimpse of the village church, a neat 
 white building in the distance ; and the back 
 ground was filled up by a range of higher 
 hills, whose tops were crowned with wood- 
 land. Few could visit this spot of a sum- 
 mer's day, when groups of cattle were seen 
 
188 
 
 peacefully grazing, or calmly reposing in the 
 shade ; the busy husbandman urging on his 
 lazy team, and the ripening grain°luxuri- 
 antly waving on the hills, while the stillness 
 of rural retirement was broken, from time 
 to time, by the lowing of herds, or the 
 cheerful hum of the distant laborers, with- 
 out msensibly falling, (if pensively inclined,) 
 into the most delightful reveries. 
 
 There is something in the quiet of a 
 country view that soothes the mind— though 
 I confess it often fills me with a sort of me- 
 lancholy, the cause of which would be diffi- 
 cult to explain. It is not that it brings up 
 unpleasant recollections— it is not that my 
 thoughts dwell with regret upon the unal- 
 loyed pleasures of my boyhood, spent amid 
 the lovely scenes of one of the most romantic 
 parts of the United States— it is not disap- 
 pointment— it is not the remembrance of 
 any severe affliction,— neither of these have 
 I known : it is probably from the communion 
 of the soul with nature herself, and the con- 
 sciousness of the mutability and constant 
 decay of all things, awakened by the recol- 
 lection, that a few days and the verdant 
 landscape shall be covered with hoar-frost 
 the foliage stript from the trees, and the 
 whole vegetable world clothed with mourn- 
 ing. I have spent much time in Westmin- 
 
189 
 
 ster Abbey and Pere la Chaise — I have lin- 
 gered about the unostentatious tombs of 
 Tasso and Virgil, and have leisurely con- 
 templated the Coliseum and the ruins of 
 Pompeii, but never have I felt the vanity of 
 human life, and the nothingness of every 
 thing terrestrial more fully , than when gazing 
 alone upon some of the sequestered scenes 
 of my native country. 
 
 Of the grove of sugar-maples, which I 
 
 have mentioned, Anna and Mr. were 
 
 very fond ; and often have they been seen 
 sitting upon the trunk of a fallen tree, en- 
 joying the cool shade *^for whispering lovers 
 made," and the wide extended view of the 
 valley below them, while the setting sun 
 threw his last, slanting rays from the west- 
 ern hills, and the gathering, shades of eve- 
 ning warned them of the hour for returning* 
 
 He visited her often, and it was their 
 regular custom to stroll across the fields 
 after the heat of the day had subsided, or 
 during the twilight. Her dress was always 
 simple, though scrupulously neat, commonly 
 a printed calico or white, and the profusion 
 of her dark, glossy tresses w^as but imper- 
 fectly concealed by a green silk sun-bonnet* 
 No one could see her so young, so unsus- 
 pecting and innocent, hanging on his arm, 
 while her soft, dark eyes frequently rested 
 
190 
 
 on his manly features, without exclaiming^j 
 this indeed is real attachment. Their souls 
 seemed united in one ; they lived, thej 
 breathed but for each other. In a few 
 months they were to have been united at 
 the altar. 
 
 One evening as they returned from their 
 walk, her brothers, with some of their com- 
 panions, were amusing themselves before 
 the door in leaping. In order to give greater 
 momentum to the body, they held in each 
 hand a heavy weight, which, by swinging 
 several times backward and forward before 
 leaping, enabled them to go farther than 
 without it. It will at once be perceived 
 that this is a very violent species of exercise, 
 not only for the lower limbs, but for the 
 arms and chest. From a fondness for ath- 
 letic exercises, Mr. was induced to 
 
 join them, and made several leaps without 
 the weights, but not coming up to the mark 
 of the others, he attempted with them ; but 
 in the act of jumping, something gave way 
 in his chest, and in an instant blood gushed 
 from his nose and mouth. He had burst a 
 blood vessel. 
 
 Poor Anna's feelings cannot be described, 
 when she saw him, pale and faint, led into 
 the house, and placed upon a bed. It was 
 one of those dreadful accidents that fill us 
 
191 
 
 with consternation at the moment, and with 
 alarming apprehensions for the future. It 
 fell like a thunderbolt upon her, and she 
 instantly saw all her bright visions dark- 
 ened, and the hope of earthly happiness 
 dashed from her forever. A moment before, 
 all nature was to her bedecked with smiles, 
 and her heart lightly responded to the plea- 
 sure every scene afforded. But now how 
 changed, and but for one faint hope, all 
 would have been to her a 
 
 *' Total eclipse — do sun, no moon — 
 ** All dark amid the blaze of noon." 
 
 I shall not dwell upon particulars. The 
 imagination can easily paint what language 
 cannot describe. Suffice it to say, he sur- 
 vived but a few days, and during that time 
 Anna scarcely left his side. To the last 
 moment he had all his faculties clear and 
 undisturbed, and clasping both her hands in 
 his, and looking a last farewell when his 
 tongue had refused its office, he expired 
 without a groan. 
 
 Anna's exhausted strength now entirely 
 left her, and she sunk senseless beside his 
 lifeless body. Her weak nature could sus- 
 tain no more, and for a time total forgetful- 
 ness relieved her of all her pains. But she 
 
192 
 
 at length revived to all the bitterness of her 
 pitiable lot. 
 
 Some weeks after this heart-rending event, 
 she had recovered sufficient strength to walk 
 about. But oh! how changed. Instead of 
 the blooming, smiling, happy girl, instantly 
 winning the hearts of all who saw her, she 
 was but the shadow of what she had been, 
 and grief was stamped upon every linea- 
 ment of her face. Nor v/as this common 
 grief. Not a tear bedewed her long, soft 
 eye-lashes— not a groan escaped her. She 
 was calm, silent, and composed ; but from 
 her blanched features, and an occasional 
 deep sigh, it was easy to perceive that the 
 heart was gathering about the citadel of 
 life every drop of the vital current, and must 
 ultimately burst in the struggle to reUeve 
 itself. 
 
 While her strength permitted, she would 
 almost daily wander to the little grove, and 
 sit for hours on the fallen trunk, where so 
 often their mutual vows had been repeated^ 
 and even when the cold winds of autumn 
 whistled through the leafless trees, and the 
 faded loveliness of nature was shrouded in 
 an icy pall, she was occasionally seen at the 
 hallowed spot. As the cold weather ad- 
 vanced, she began to suifer from pains in 
 the side, and cough, which demanded me- 
 
193 
 
 dical assistance. She cheerfully submitted 
 to be bled and blistered, which, with other 
 remedies, afforded considerable temporary 
 relief. But her disease silently advanced, 
 and the hectic flush upon her cheeks, that 
 now mocked the rose's hue, told but too 
 plainly that this lovely flower was decked 
 with unwonted bloom, as a token of its 
 speedy decay. 
 
 She passed the winter, however, without 
 great corporeal suftering, though her health 
 continued to decline, and in May, w^as still 
 able to sit up a large part of the day. She 
 conversed with considerable cheerfulness, 
 and spoke of her declining strength without 
 the least apparent emotion. She was all 
 gentleness to those who attended her, and 
 never did I see a frown upon her counte- 
 nance, or hear an unkind word escape her. 
 Her manner, though pensive, was not at all 
 gloomy, and it was evident that she regarded 
 her approaching dissolution without the least 
 dread. Nor was this the efiect of the apathy 
 sometimes observed in consumption. It was 
 undoubtedly owing to a perfect resignation 
 to the will of Providence, and the sustaining 
 power of a mind deeply imbued with early 
 piety. Life had evidently lost its attractions 
 for her, and death was divested of all its 
 terrors. 
 
 II 
 
194 
 
 I sometimes spoke of the genial influence 
 of the approaching warm weather upon her 
 complaint, and the possibility of her reco- 
 vering ; but a pensive smile, and a look of 
 entire incredulity, told how far she was from 
 flattering herself with any hopes of that 
 kind. In fact, she seemed to look for- 
 ward with pleasure to the moment that 
 should unite her to the one she had loved 
 more than all other earthly beings. 
 
 In her dress, she continued what she had 
 always been — scrupulously neat, but per- 
 fectly simple. Indeed, this was the natural 
 effect'of the spotless purity of her mind, and 
 arose entirely from a sense of propriety, and 
 not from vanity. She was a child of Nature, 
 and had always looked with the rapture of 
 a child upon Nature's works. Of plants and 
 flowers she was particularly fond, and was 
 seldom without some of them about her; 
 and v*^hen the first wild flowers of spring had 
 made their appearance, she had them placed 
 in water near her, and would often gaze 
 upon them till the tears glistened in her 
 eyes ; and though it was easy to guess what 
 was passing in her mind, she rarely gave 
 her thoughts utterance. It was evident that 
 her tears were not those of ordinary grief; 
 they were called forth by the language of 
 the flowers, soothin£: her wounded feelinsrs. 
 
195 
 
 as those of a child are excited by a tender 
 tale. 
 
 I have no doubt that the mind owes much 
 of its pecidiar character to the scenes with 
 which our infancy has been conversant. 
 Hence the inhabitants of mountainous coun- 
 tries, as Switzerland, are reputed brave and 
 generous. The grandeur and sublimity of 
 the inaccessible Alps, must tend to fill the 
 soul with lofty emotions, while the softened 
 beauties of Italian scenery — the matchless 
 sky — the balmy mildness of the air — the 
 luxuriant carpet on which Nature seems to 
 repose in voluptuous ease, all tend to pro- 
 duce fondness for poetry and music. Even 
 the language of mild latitudes, flow s in me- 
 lodious sweetness, when compared with the 
 harsh, dissonant dialects of the cold and 
 rugged north. In rural retirement, we often 
 meet a strong enthusiastic admiration of the 
 works of Nature, of which those who have 
 always resided in a city, though they '' may 
 babble about green fields," commonly know 
 but little ; and I am much inclined to believe 
 that the mind of Anna had drawn much of 
 its peculiar character from the calm, seques- 
 tered, romantic views on which her infant 
 eyes had first gazed. 
 
 One mild sunny morning in June, I called 
 to see her, and found her bolstered up on 
 
196 
 
 a light cot opposite a window, that com-l 
 manded an extensive prospect of the broadl 
 meadow, which was now clothed in all the II 
 verdant freshness of the season. The airP 
 was balmy and soft, and all nature seemed 
 to smile. She had been contemplating the 
 lovely scene, and probably contrasting her 
 present state with the bright visions that a 
 twelve-month since flitted across her brain, 
 when a long prospect of undisturbed felicity 
 seemed extended before her, and time be- 
 guiled by ** love's young dream," passed un- 
 heeded on. Yet her eyes were lighted up 
 with unusual brightness, though her soft 
 eye-lashes had been evidently moistened by 
 tears ; and her cheeks resembled the petals 
 of the rose, placed among those of the ex- 
 panded lilly. She had on a plain white robe, 
 with ruffles about the neck and wrists. Her 
 dark locks were simply parted on her fore- 
 head, and retained by a neat cap ; and the 
 pearly whiteness of her hands and neck 
 seemed to rival that of her dress. Bj her 
 side lay a pocket edition of the New Tes- 
 tament, with her name on the cover ; and 
 as the clasp was open, she had probably 
 been reading it. I had often seen it lying 
 on her pillow, or on the stand by her bed, 
 and have no doubt, from the value she ap- 
 peared to place upon it, that it was one of 
 
197 
 
 the first tokens of her lover's attachment. 
 I had also noticed that she always wore a 
 small breast-pin, with a lock of hair in it, 
 which was almost the only ornament of the 
 kind I ever saw upon her person ; and often 
 have I seen her eyes rest upon it for a mo- 
 ment, and then a suppressed sigh would 
 escape her, which plainly told that this, too, 
 was an early pledge of the most undivided 
 affection. Instead of its being in her dress 
 as usual, I now perceived that she had it in 
 her hand. 
 
 Never did I contemplate a more inte- 
 resting picture, or one more calculated to 
 fill me with melancholy emotions. Oh ! 
 there is a lovehness about that ruthless dis- 
 ease, that seems to rob itof half its terrors ; 
 and its descent to the grave is often so slow^, 
 so gentle, so imperceptible, as to despoil it 
 of half its gloom. 
 
 To my enquiry how she found herself, 
 she answered with an angelic smile, ^'1 shall 
 soon be well; my sufferings are nearly over." 
 I was prepared for this, for she had been 
 religiously brought up, and had evinced that 
 fervent piety which alone renders a death- 
 bed happy. She seemed aware that she 
 w^ould not survive the day out. 
 
 I am not superstitious, nor do I credit all 
 that has been told about different persons 
 
198 
 
 predicting their own death ; but I have more 
 than once witnessed in my course of atten- 
 dance upon the sick, this presentiment of 
 approaching dissohition* I am at a loss to 
 what cause to attribute it, unless it be a sort 
 of consciousness of our nature, if I may so 
 speak — of the inability to resist any longer 
 the progress of the disease. Of one fact I 
 am certain ; that death is very apt to take 
 place when there is a full conviction that it 
 is inevitable. Indeed, this has been ob- 
 served even among people who are but par- 
 tially civilized. An acquaintance of mine, 
 who had been a physician in the East India 
 Company's service, has told me, that when 
 the natives were attacked with any of the 
 diseases of that country, and declared that 
 they should not recover, as was frequently 
 the case, it was almost invariably a fatal 
 symptom. 
 
 There was nothing in Anna's appearance 
 in the morning calculated to excite alarm. 
 She seemed as she. had for many days past, 
 and had the perfect possession of her facul- 
 ties ; but towards evening, her breathing 
 became laborious, and she felt that her end 
 was near, and deliberately prepared to meet 
 it. She addressed her younger sister in the 
 most endearing terms ; calmly pointed out 
 to her the vanity of youthful hopes, and en- 
 
199 
 
 treated her to consider her own premature 
 end as a solemn admonition. She besought 
 her disconsolate parents not to weep for her, 
 but assured them that she should soon enjoy 
 the full fruition of the blest. Her manner 
 was so mild and meek, her language so per- 
 suasive and eloquent, from a consciousness 
 of its being her last address, together with 
 the calm and subdued, though heart-rending 
 affliction of her family, rendered it a scene 
 which can be conceived, but which it is im- 
 possible to depict. She took an affectionate 
 leave of all, and in kissing her mother for 
 the last time, she put into her hands the Tes- 
 tament and breast-pin, saying with an en- 
 treating look, '^ dear mother, will you take 
 care of these ?" She had kept them till the 
 last moment, with that fondness peculiar to 
 the sex, and had seemed to look at them 
 again and again with renewed pleasure, 
 though they constantly brought to her mind 
 the fatal event that annihilated all her 
 earthly hopes, and had, alas ! so soon 
 opened to her the portals of the grave! 
 The embrace was long and tender, and when 
 she leaned back on the pillow again, her 
 feeble nature seemed entirely exhausted, 
 and she sunk into a calm slumber, as peace- 
 ful as that of the child, wearied out with its 
 own Uttle cares. It was the last long sleep, 
 
200 
 
 from which frail mortality was no more to 
 be roused ; and her meek spirit took its 
 flight so quietly, so gently, that those who 
 stood by knew not that it had departed, till 
 respiration had entirely ceased for some 
 moments. Not a muscle was moved — not a 
 feature was distorted, and the expression of 
 her sweet countenance was as placid as the 
 calmest repose. Never was death more per- 
 fectly robbed of its horrors. Never was 
 that fair fabric, the last and most perfect of 
 all of Nature's works, more lovely, more 
 beautiful, after the bright emanation from 
 the Deity — '' the breath of life," which once 
 quickened and animated it, had quit its tene- 
 ment, to be united to the great source from 
 which it sprung. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IMPRUDENT MARRIAGES. 
 
 READINESS WITH WHICH PARENTS BESTOW THEIR 
 
 DAUGHTERS UPON THOUGHTLESS YOUNG MEN 
 
 THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN THE GAMESTER. 
 
 I HAVE often been surprised at the readi- 
 ness with which a great majority of parents 
 allow their daughters to inarry gay, thought- 
 less young men, who have never given any 
 evidence of established habits, or exhibited 
 the stability of character necessary to con- 
 duct with propriety the affairs of a family. 
 Respectable parentage, the prospect of a 
 tolerable support, and the absence of any 
 glaring vices, are considered sufficient. If 
 a young man be a little wild, we are told he 
 will become steady as soon as he is married. 
 If he be fond of the midnight revel, and now 
 and then requires the assistance of a friend 
 to get him home, we are assured that a wife 
 will immediately render him domestic ; and 
 if profane and irreligious now, he is to be- 
 come moral, if not religious, when a hus- 
 band. Thus virtue is augured from present 
 vice, sobriety from irregularity, and tem- 
 perance from dissipation ; and a daughter 
 
202 
 
 possessing perhaps every qualification ne- 
 cessary to make herself and others happy, is | 
 trusted to one who must become altered in 
 ^every respect, before he can be in reality 
 a good husband. 
 
 Now do we reason in a similar way in other 
 matters ? Do we expect good to come out of 
 evil ? Is it not then more rational to sup- 
 pose that a wild, giddy young man is more 
 likely to make a bad husband than a good 
 one ? In truth may matrimony be called a 
 lottery, when it is thus imprudently entered 
 into ; and one, it strikes me, in which there 
 are far more blanks than prizes. 
 
 That matches are too often made up from 
 sordid motives, and human happiness thus 
 bartered for dollars and cents, I need not 
 tell you ; and that the respectability of a 
 man's connexions is often a passport to 
 the hand of a lovely female, when he has 
 scarcely a personal qualification to recom- 
 mend him, you well know. With a portion 
 of the world, this has always been the case, 
 and, probably, always will be. Do you ask 
 what is to be done ? Are we to refuse the 
 oflfers of young men of family and fortune, 
 because they are rather wild ? If you do 
 not choose to risk the happiness of your 
 daughters, most certainly you will. 
 
 Americans commonly marry too early — 
 
203 
 
 much earlier than the people of other coun- 
 tries. Would it not be better for them to 
 wait till they have acquired steady habits, 
 which is ordinarily by twenty-eight or thirty? 
 If their gaiety is only the effervescence of 
 youth, wait till it has subsided. But above 
 all things, think not of allowing a daughter 
 to attempt the romantic task of reforming a 
 rake. 
 
 There are many advantages in a man's 
 not marrying before thirty. His character 
 is then established — his mind sufficiently 
 matured — a tolerable opinion can be formed 
 of him as a man, and he is more competent 
 to judge of the female suitable for him. In- 
 stead of boyish fancy, you will then have a 
 more rational love ; the risk to the female 
 will be greatly diminished, and the proba- 
 bility of domestic happiness proportionally 
 increased. But perhaps it is useless to 
 spend much time in arguments on this sub- 
 ject, for if they could be adduced as clear as 
 the noon-day sun, and as convincing as holy 
 writ, most persons would still be governed 
 by their own inclination, or rather, I should 
 say, the no less powerful inclinations of their 
 children. 
 
 I have often witnessed the unhappy con- 
 sequences of imprudent, early marriages* 
 I have seen female loveliness blasted, ere 
 
204 
 
 it was yet fully expanded ; a being calcu- 
 lated for happiness rendered unspeakably 
 wretched ; and children born in affluence 
 cast fatherless and destitute upon a pitiless 
 world. I have seen the wife possessing every 
 virtue that could endear her to a rational 
 man, and render her the object of his ten- 
 derest cares, driven distracted by the wild 
 extravagances of him who had sworn to be 
 her protector ; I have seen the bloom and 
 cheerfulness of youth prematurely give place 
 to the pallid wrinkles of anxious age ; the 
 bridal ornaments exchanged for widow's 
 weeds ; and the form, yet scarcely perfected, 
 bowing with sorrow over the grave of a hus- 
 band, who had wantonly destroyed himself 
 by dissipation, and embittered the existence 
 of her whose happiness he was bound to 
 promote. Ah! devoted woman ! how often is 
 thy heart entrusted to an unworthy keeper, 
 like the lamb entrusted to the wolf? — 
 How often is he who has gained thy affec- 
 tions, and led thee away from all the loved 
 scenes of thy childhood, the author of all thy 
 woes ! 
 
 I said, I have often witnessed the unhappy 
 consequences of imprudent early marriages, 
 and I now recollect no one instance which 
 more deeply interested my feelings, or was 
 more strikingly in confirmation of the truth 
 
205 
 
 of the remarks I have just made, than the 
 following : 
 
 Emma was the daughter of a highly- 
 respectable merchant, who possessed a hand- 
 some property, and had always moved in the 
 first circles. He was a prudent man in his 
 commercial transactions — seldom embarked 
 in any doubtful speculations, or ran any 
 great risks, but generally managed to re- 
 alize a tolerable per centage on his capital. 
 He spared no expense in the education of 
 his children ; of course, his daughters had 
 all the advantage that wealth and acquain- 
 tance with the best society could give them. 
 
 Emma, at the age of seventeen, was 
 rather below the medium stature, but her 
 figure, though slight, was exceedingly grace- 
 ful and elegant. She had very expressive 
 blue eyes, brown hair, a fine complexion, 
 regular features, and without being what 
 w^ould be called by nice judges, really beau- 
 tiful, was admitted, by every one, to be a 
 fine looking girl. This was probably not 
 so much to be attributed to any peculiarity 
 of features, as to the animation and intelli- 
 gence with which they were lighted up, and 
 which at once indicated great quickness of 
 perception, strong feelings, and a highly 
 cultivated and refined mind, while all her 
 movements possessed that quickness and 
 
206 
 
 elasticity which we generally find associ- 
 ated with a vigorous and active intellect. 
 Her manners, though rather distant and re- 
 tiring to the stranger, bespoke great sin- 
 cerity and ingenuousness of character, and 
 her conversation, which exhibited talents of 
 no ordinary stamp, was strongly tinctured 
 with that enthusiasm which often borders on 
 the romantic, and which indicated a soul 
 susceptible of deep toned sentiment. 
 
 It is unnecessary to say she was the idol 
 of her father ; for where is the father who 
 would not idolize such a daughter. She 
 was much admired by men of sense of all 
 ages, though she was no favorite with the 
 exquisite, who was forced to consider her as 
 a being above his sphere, as quite too intel- 
 lectual, and on whom his insipid remarks 
 were entirely lost. 
 
 Before she was eighteen, she became ac- 
 quainted with Charles , a young En- 
 glishman of family and fortune, who had 
 been educated for the army, but had never 
 taken a commission, in consequence of the 
 early death of his father, and his being thus 
 left in possession of his fortune. He was 
 one-and-twenty, tall, and remarkably well 
 made, with large black eyes, dark hair, high 
 manly forehead, and large, but regular fea- 
 tures. Without going farther in describing 
 
207 
 
 his features, I will barely remark, that when 
 I first saw him, he was one of the most ele- 
 gant men I have ever met — nor were his 
 manners less strikingly pleasing than his 
 person. Whatever he said or did, bespoke 
 courtly refinement ; his voice Avas manly and 
 harmonious, and his conversation w^as so in- 
 termingled with strokes of wit and good 
 humor, that it could not fail to be agreeable, 
 while the frankness and carelessness with 
 which he spoke, had a tendency to convince 
 one of his honesty of heart, and entire want 
 of dissimulation. He was generous to his 
 friends, and liberal in his expenditures to 
 an extent that must be censured by the more 
 prudent, as it not unfrequently bordered on 
 extravagance, and his whole deportment be- 
 spoke the man of the world and the gentle- 
 man. But his fondness for pleasure, or ra- 
 ther the amusements of fashionable life, was 
 excessive. He kept fine horses and dogs, 
 rode uncommonly well, was an excellent 
 shot, and had spent much time in field 
 sports. All this was no more than might 
 be expected in a young man of fortune, and 
 at his age, and could hardly be considered 
 censurable ; but he did not stop here. In 
 consequence of his great wit and polished 
 manners, his society was much courted by 
 the gay and dissipated, and a great propor- 
 
208 
 
 tion of his nights was spent amid those 
 scenes of conviviality and debauchery, so 
 common in large towns. As these deeds 
 of darkness seldom come to the knowledge 
 of respectable females, his profligate habits 
 were but little suspected by them ; and they 
 only saw in him, a young man of elegant 
 person, captivating manners, and a noble 
 heart ; in fine, without a single fault, except 
 those, if faults they could be called, which 
 arise from the thoughtlessness and inexpe- 
 rience of his age. 
 
 Few men could be more successful in win- 
 ning a lady's aflfections than Charles, for he 
 appeared all that she could admire, love and 
 esteem; of course, wherever he turned his 
 eyes, they encountered nought but smiles of 
 approbation ; and he saw himself the very 
 sovereign of hearts. But the once pure 
 current of his own breast was already poi- 
 soned. Young as he was, his excessive in- 
 dulgences among profligate females had 
 completely blunted all the delicate and re- 
 fined emotions of the soul, and he looked 
 upon a lovely woman, whose greatest love- 
 liness consists in the spotless purity of her 
 mind, only as a being capable of adminis- 
 tering to sensual enjoyments. 
 
 Emma's father was pleased with Charles, 
 though his good sense told him that his ini- 
 
209 
 
 moderate love of pleasure was decidedly 
 dangerous. He thought, however, as peo- 
 ple tliink in similar circumstances but too 
 frequently, that Charles would become more 
 steady with years, especially if married. 
 
 Need I repeat, how often has this false 
 reasoning consigned a daughter to WTetch- 
 edness and misery, and brought down a pa- 
 rent's grey hairs with sorrow to the grave f 
 
 He considered an alliance with Charles as 
 very desh'able, and, as a commercial man, 
 could not look with indifference on his for- 
 tune, which had been greatly overrated. 
 
 As to Emma, she believed Charles to be 
 every thing worthy of a woman's love — in- 
 deed, he was to her the beau ideal of manly 
 excellence. 
 
 Her father soon discovered her attach- 
 ment, and used all prudent measures to 
 promote his daughter's wishes. He treated 
 Charles with marked attentions — invited 
 him often to his house, and cautiously seized 
 opportunities of placing Emma's interesting 
 character before him, in the most pleasing 
 points of view. 
 
 Charles was pleased with Emma, but he 
 felt nothing of the pure flame that was 
 glowing in her bosom, and he was too dis- 
 cerning not to see through the father's civi- 
 lities, and to read the secret of the daugh- 
 
210 
 
 ter's heart. He had, in reahty, na wish to 
 marry; but he was, at times, half indined 
 to offer himself to Emma, perhaps, in part, 
 from a love of novelty, and in part, with a 
 good natured desire to gratify her family. 
 
 As may be supposed, his conduct was any 
 thing but steady and unwavering. At length, 
 after much trifling and delay, after having 
 wrought up the poor girl's feelings almost 
 to a pitch of distraction, by at one time 
 appearing the ardent lover, and at another, 
 flirting with some one else — -by now calHng 
 daily, and then staying away for weeks with- 
 out any just cause, he offered himself, and 
 they were married. 
 
 Emma now thought her happiness com- 
 plete. Her attachment to her husband was 
 not only of the purest description — she 
 adored him as a being more than human, 
 who was all her own ; and attributing to 
 him all the excellencies of her own charac- 
 ter, her devotedness would have led her to 
 sacrifice every enjoyment but that of his 
 society, every friend on earth but him, and 
 even life itself, for his sake. 
 
 I am confident this is no exaggeration — a 
 most intimate acquaintance with them for 
 several years, afforded me abundant proofs 
 of the correctness of what I have asserted. 
 Alas ! little did she anticipate the trials that 
 
211 
 
 awaited her, or hov/ very soon her golden 
 dreams were to bo broken. 
 
 They had not been long married, when it 
 became evident that ^Charles' propensities 
 were not altogether changed, or his fondness 
 for the society of his gay companions and his 
 midnight revels at all abated, by being a 
 husband ; for he did not hesitate to be out all 
 night, occasionally, and to spend days toge- 
 ther from home, in amusements in which his 
 w^ife could not participate. The fact was, 
 that instead of that ardent attachment which 
 would have induced him to consult her hap- 
 piness in every thing, he loved her only as 
 he had loved his mistresses, and never hesi- 
 tated a moment between his own gratification 
 and her feelings. 
 
 I will dwell no longer on this part of their 
 history, but pass directly" to that period 
 which, to me, was most interesting. 
 
 They had been married about five years, 
 and Emma was the mother of two children, 
 the elder a girl, and the younger a boy ; and 
 more lovely children I never beheld. To 
 an inattentive observer, she had not mate- 
 rially changed ; her countenance still beamed 
 with intelligence, still charmed the beholder, 
 though not unfrequently a cloud flitted across 
 it, which told the discerning eye, that all 
 was not tranquillity within. 
 
212 
 
 But Charles was changed — yes, sadly 
 changed. Instead of the erect, active man 
 he was five years before, he stooped a great 
 deal, and his movements were languid and 
 feeble. He had lost much flesh, and his 
 hand trembled at times. His fine features, 
 which once no one could behold without ad- 
 miration, then blooming with health, and 
 beaming with smiles, w ere now shrunk, pale, 
 and indicative of great irritability, and dis- 
 relish for every pleasure. 
 
 Need I tell the cause ? From the occa- 
 sional immoderate use of Champaigne and 
 Madeira, when surrounded by his associ- 
 ates, he had gradually advanced to the more 
 potent stimulus of gin and brandy; and 
 not only employed it now as a spur to con- 
 viviality, but poured it out profusely in se- 
 cret libations to that god, whose smiles are 
 disease, whose special favor, death. 
 
 His patrimony, too, had imperceptibly 
 melted away, and he began to be annoyed 
 by bills and duns which he had not the 
 means of satisfying, and already felt, in 
 anticipation, the inconveniences of want. 
 In addition to all this, his health began to 
 break down from the repeated violent shocks 
 it had sustained, and symptoms indicative 
 of incipient disease of the lungs w^ere ra- 
 pidly developing themselves. 
 
213 
 
 As he now began to suffer considerable 
 pain and shortness of breath, he was per- 
 suaded to abstain entirely from all stimu- 
 lating drinks, and to adopt a course of reme- 
 dies, and a regimen suitable to his case. 
 For several weeks he steadily adhered to 
 this plan, and the alteration for the better, 
 in his appearance, was truly remarkable. 
 His friends had strong hopes of an amend- 
 ment in his life, and poor Emma was again 
 all smiles and cheerfulness. 
 
 He was permitted to leave the house and 
 take exercise in the open air, with quite 
 the appearance of returning health — when, 
 one morning he received an invitation from 
 some of his friends, to a little anniversary 
 dinner. 
 
 He was sitting, at the moment, on one 
 end of the sofa, with a newspaper in his 
 hand, and his wife, in a neat morning dress, 
 was seated on the other end, sewing a bit of 
 ribband upon one of her children's frocks, 
 with her work basket at her feet. The 
 younger child was asleep in the cradle, and 
 the older one was on the floor near it, play- 
 ing with a favorite dog. The whole would 
 have made a pretty group for the pencil, and 
 might have been taken for a representation 
 of domestic felicity. 
 
 Alas, how false are appearances ! How 
 
214 
 
 often does the giddy world mistake ease 
 and apparent comfort, for happiness ! and 
 how often are individuals supposed to be 
 free from care and solicitude, when the head 
 never presses the pillow but with some pain- 
 ful emotion, and the eye never rests upon 
 the fair face of Nature, smiling in all the 
 loveliness its great Creator has imparted to 
 it, but it is dimmed by some gloomy recol- 
 lection. The treasures of the east may 
 surround you, and the world may spread all 
 its alluring and gilded charms before you, 
 but if the canker worm lies concealed at the 
 heart, you will turn from them with sick- 
 ening disgust, and justly envy the quiet joys 
 of the humblest peasant, who eats at night 
 the hard-earned fruits of the day, and then 
 gives himself up to the kind solace of repose, 
 undisturbed by the feverish restlessness of 
 ambitious desires, the silent anguish of con- 
 cealed regret, or the ceaseless corrodings of 
 insatiate remorse. 
 
 ** Charles," said his wife, '' you will not 
 go, 1 am sure," in a half enquiring tone. 
 <'\Vhy not?" said he. ''Because it will 
 expose your health," was the reply. " Non- 
 sense," said he, ''I am perfectly well, and 
 I know it will not hurt me." 
 
 A variety of arguments were next em- 
 ployed on her part, to turn him from his pur- 
 
215 
 
 pose, without avail, and my advice was met 
 with '' dont try to frighten me, my dear doc- 
 tor — thanks to your skill, I feel myself quite 
 well, and there can be no harm in going, as 
 I am determined to be prudent." 
 
 I have said that Emma possessed remark- 
 able talents — indeed, she was gifted far 
 above the majority of her sex in the skilful 
 management of an argument, and when 
 considerably interested, was really eloquent. 
 On this occasion, all her fears for her hus- 
 band were awakened ; his life appeared to 
 her to be at stake, and with it her own hap- 
 piness, and that of her children ; and never 
 did I see her so earnest, so happy in the ex- 
 pression of her feelings, so irresistable in 
 her reasoning — in a word, never did I see 
 her to such advantage, and I could not re- 
 frain from thinking that, had she married 
 a man whose mind was elevated and en- 
 riched like her own, who was calculated for 
 domestic enjoyments, and could have re- 
 turned all her devotedness and affection, 
 with the fondness and constancy which it 
 merited, she might have been not only one 
 of the most charming and intellectual of her 
 sex, but one of the happiest. 
 
 Yet w^hat anxiety and distress had she al- 
 ready suffered, and was still to suffer, in 
 
216 
 
 consequence of having entrusted her happi- 
 ness to a thoughtless young man. 
 
 When Emma saw that he was resolved, 
 and that all she said did not move him, she 
 threw herself on her knees, at his feet, and 
 pointing to her children, while the tears fell 
 in torrents, said, ''I entreat you, as you value 
 the happiness of these darlings, and of your 
 wife, do not go." This put his sensibility 
 to the test, for the man who could have seen 
 unmoved, such loveliness and worth in tears, 
 at his feet, must have had the heart of a' 
 tyger ; and one would think, that howevef 
 far gone he might have been in the ruinous 
 course of intemperance, and its attendant 
 vices, a scene like this must have forced 
 from his trembling grasp the poisoned gob- 
 let, and awakened in his boson those slum- 
 bering sensibilities which would have re- 
 sistlessly turned him from his mad career. 
 But man, when he has once tasted the 
 deadly draught, and yielded his soul to its 
 accursed spell, is more persevering than the 
 devils themselves, and even the arm of om- 
 nipotent vengeance scarcely turns him from 
 his course. 
 
 Charles raised his wife, and said kindly, 
 ^* don't be childish ; I will see about it, and 
 shall not go if it will make you unhappy ;" 
 
217 
 
 at the same time I plainly saw that he did 
 not, in the least, relinquish his first deter- 
 mination. After some time, by promising 
 to return early, and to taste nothing but a 
 little claret, he managed partially to quiet 
 his wife's fears, and to wring from her a re- 
 luctant consent to his going. 
 
 The moment he was gone, her fears re- 
 vived afresh, and she reproached herself for 
 having consented to what he would unques- 
 tionably have done, had she opposed him to 
 the last. During the evening it w as difficult 
 for her to control her feelings. Midnight 
 came* and Charles did not return ; and the 
 hours rolled heavily on till morning, each 
 only increasing her anxiety. Her mental 
 agony can now be more easily imagined 
 than described : she paced the room, pressed 
 her little ones to her bosom, rung her hands, 
 and seemed already to anticipate what she 
 was shortly to realise. Eight o'clock came. 
 Could it be possible he would not come home 
 to breakfast ! What was to be done ? Had 
 any accident happened to him ? That could 
 not be. Might not a servant be sent to in- 
 form him that breakfast was waiting ? Few, 
 w^ho knew Charles' temper at such times, 
 w^ould think of this. At last, between twelve 
 1 and one, he came home. He walked with- 
 out difficulty, for he rarely became so over- 
 
218 
 
 powered with drink as to be unable to 
 walk ; though others, who had taken no 
 more than he had, were under the table. 
 
 He had what is called a strong head, and 
 could drink an enormous quantity without 
 being actually drunk. 
 
 As he entered the door, Emma gave a 
 faint scream, and became nearly senseless. 
 His looks gave the finishing stroke to 
 the dreadful picture her excited imagina- 
 tion had sketched, and she gazed upon 
 him as upon one returned from the grave. 
 His look was haggard and deadly pale — for 
 the intoxicating draught had ceased to^drive 
 the crimson current to his face. His lungs 
 w^ere now the enfeebled parts, and the out- 
 raged heart seemed to avenge itself, by dri- 
 ving with fury all the vital fluid to these 
 organs. His eye was wild, and his whole 
 visage wore an unearthly smile, that seemed 
 to say, for the last time, I have had my 
 way. 
 
 Wretched man ! He had drained with 
 insatiate thirst the cup of pleasure to the 
 very dregs. He had exchanged the pure 
 bliss, which his own fireside might have im- 
 parted, for the bacchanahan mirth, and 
 had left the embraces of an angelic wife and 
 her lovely children, for the loathsome breath 
 of bloated debauchery. 
 
219 
 
 Ah ! tender, unsuspecting woman ! how 
 often does he, to whom the God of Nature 
 has given thee, to be the companion of his 
 joys and the solace of his cares, not only 
 violate the divine injunction to cherish and 
 protect thee, but wantonly bruise and crush 
 thy devoted heart by unkindness and neglect, 
 and send thee to an untimely grave by his 
 own unbridled folly. But the day of retri- 
 bution will come, when he who has misused 
 the talent that was entrusted to him, and 
 appears unrepentant before the awful tri- 
 bunal, shall receive the merited award of 
 his guilt. 
 
 Charles went directly to bed, and after a 
 short, heavy slumber, was awakened by a 
 deluge of blood from his lungs. All were 
 seized with consternation except Charles, 
 who appeared but little agitated. The 
 bleeding was soon stopped, but now his case 
 was considered as nearly or quite hopeless. 
 
 For a time, remedies alleviated in some 
 measure his symptoms, but nothing more. 
 He had given the last blow to an excellent 
 constitution, and was now speedily to pay 
 the price of his folly. 
 
 It was unnecessary to inform him that his 
 case was desperate, he felt within himself 
 that it was so ; and, strange as it may seem, 
 did not appear to regret it. He was evi- 
 
220 
 
 ilently sated with pleasure, and had very 
 little reluctance at leaving a world that 
 could no longer excite his desires. 
 
 For several weeks he gradually wasted 
 away, in spite of every effort to retard the 
 progress of his disease. During this time, 
 nothing could equal the devotedness of his 
 wife. She hung over him like a minis- 
 tering angel, without being conscious of fa- 
 tigue, or thinking of repose. She was evi- 
 dently not without hopes of his recovery; 
 and when any thing occurred to place before 
 her the possibility of losing him, her whole 
 conduct seemed to say, it must not, it could 
 not be. She anxiously watched every change 
 in his countenance, and her expressive eyes 
 either beamed with hope, or were dimmed 
 with tears, as he looked cheerful or sad. 
 
 He, too, for the first time in his life, be- 
 came conscious what a treasure he possessed 
 in that inestimable wife ; and would often 
 say to me when alone, '' do not say any 
 thing, doctor, in Emma's presence, to ex- 
 cite her fears. Poor thing, it will be hard 
 for her." He constantly put the best face 
 upon his complaints, in order to quiet her 
 anxious mind ; and occasionally spoke of 
 the advantage he might derive from riding 
 out, as soon as his strength would admit of 
 it. This was mere talk, for I cannot think 
 
221 
 
 he exi3€cted ever to be stronger, when he 
 felt that he was daily sinking. 
 
 One morning, as I was sitting with him 
 alone, the conversation, which had been on 
 general topics, flagged a little, when he 
 looked at me attentively for a moment, and 
 said, ''you appear to enjoy excellent health, 
 doctor." I replied, " my health is uni- 
 formly good, though my constitution was 
 never robust." 
 
 He paused for a short time, and then con- 
 tinued : " I have had a constitution of iron, 
 
 but I have been a d d fool, and have 
 
 destroyed it. A few years ago, I could bear 
 any thing : up every night in the week — 
 exposure of every kind — all sorts of irregu- 
 larities, and hard drinking, scarcely affected 
 
 me at all. While I lived at , in 
 
 Devonshire, I was one of a wild set. We 
 were not far from the same age, and stopped 
 at nothing. Day after day, for weeks to- 
 gether, we spent in different field sports, — 
 dined at six and drank till ten — and often 
 have they all been carried to bed drunk but 
 myself. I could put them all under the 
 table, without losing myself. But it was 
 all folly — worse than madness. Several of 
 them have gone off in a hurry, within these 
 last few years ; and it will not be long be- 
 
222 
 
 fore I — " He paused, and looked serious, 
 and something like a sigh escaped him. 
 
 " And then we had such mad frolics now 
 and then, some of which cost me a great 
 deal. None of them had more cash at their 
 disposal than I had, and some of them were 
 hard run at times. Of course, I often paid 
 for them. And what did I ever get for it 
 all f Why the name of a good fellow, and 
 not so much as thank ye besides. Ah, boys 
 had better be without money, than have too 
 much of it. None of my school-mates have 
 turned out well, except those who were 
 poor ; and but few of those who were very 
 rich, are now alive." 
 
 Wishing to hear still more of what he 
 thought of the course he had run, I said, 
 " no doubt you enjoyed yourself very much." 
 
 *' Enjoyed myself!" said he, "what kind 
 of enjoyment was it ? To be sure, I went 
 all lengths — was first in every thing, and 
 quite the admiration of my companions. — 
 But how little did it satisfy ! It docs not 
 bear thinking of. It was a sort of delirium 
 — -mad, stark mad. But it was more the 
 manner in which I was brought up — the ex- 
 pectation of a large fortune, and the society 
 into which I was early thrown, than any na- 
 tural propensity in me. Probably, had I 
 
223 
 
 been born poor, I should have been a steady 
 fellow: I might have risen to respectability 
 in the world. But it was not my lot — and 
 temptations are not easily resisted by those 
 who have all the means of indulgence within 
 their reach. I was flattered by those who 
 were as mad as myself ; was proud of always 
 leading the way, and before I was aware of 
 it, that cursed habit of drinking was firmly 
 fastened on me, and now I feel the effects 
 of it. 
 
 *^ And then,'' said he, "I was fool enough 
 to get married. What the devil did I want 
 of a wife ?" 
 
 I replied, ^' I suppose you were in love, 
 and could not resist." 
 
 *' Not a bit of it," said he ; ** it was all a 
 boyish business. Emma was certainly a 
 charming girl, and very fond of me, and her 
 father was evidently anxious it should take 
 place. 
 
 '' This is eiitre nous,^^ he continued, low- 
 ering his voice, '* poor thing, I have given 
 her a great deal of uneasiness." 
 
 This last remark showed that he did not 
 regret having married so much on his own 
 account, as that of his wife, whom he had 
 cost so many hours of anxiety and grief. 
 
 I inquired if he had never felt disposed to 
 rid himself of his bad habits f 
 
224 
 
 " Oh yes," said he, '* a thousand times, 
 but I had not fortitude sufficient. I saw, 
 plainly, that I had got into the whirlpool, 
 and knew where it would bring me up at 
 last ; but I found it easier to give up to it 
 than to extricate myself; and to say the 
 truth, I had had so much of pleasure and 
 dissipation that I was sick of it, and sick of 
 the world — at least, I did not care a d — m 
 what became of me. 
 
 '^ This may seem strange to a man of 
 your habits and modes of thinking, doctor, 
 but it is as true as the gospel." 
 
 I was in the habit of regularly visiting 
 him, morning and evening, and could per- 
 ceive that his cough and shortness of breath- 
 ing were daily getting worse. 
 
 As he felt his end approaching, he be- 
 gan to feel the importance of a preparation 
 for another state of existence, and had lat- 
 terly received the very frequent visits of 
 Mr. , (the clergyman.) 
 
 At length these interviews had become 
 very interesting, and altogether satisfactory 
 to Charles' friends, who found his mind in 
 a widely different state from that in which 
 it had been previous to his illness. 
 
 If he had formerly looked upon death 
 with a sort of reckless indifference, I believe 
 he now contemplated it as a great and dread- 
 
225 
 
 ful change, but with entire composure. He 
 expressed no wish to recover, for he evi- 
 dently dreaded the danger of falling into his 
 former errors again ; and he felt that his 
 untimely fate, as brought about by his own 
 conduct, was strictly just, of course submit- 
 ted to it with entire resignation. 
 
 The last morning I visited him I shall 
 long remember. It was early in the fall, 
 but a frost, uncommonly hard for the season, 
 had given the autumnal hues to the foliage 
 of the trees, and had fallen with such unre- 
 lenting severity upon vegetation in general, 
 that it seemed as if the gloom of winter 
 was about to succeed, at once, to the bright 
 and verdant beauties of summer. The sun 
 was shining brightly, but instead of enli- 
 vening the prospect, it rendered the more 
 perceptible the destructive effects of the late 
 cold, and the faded appearance of expiring 
 vegetation, (always sufficient in itself to fill 
 a sensitive mind with melancholy,) when as- 
 sociated with a similar change which I ex- 
 pected very soon to witness in my patient, 
 had a tendency to give to my reflections a 
 peculiar sadness. 
 
 As I crossed the little court yard in front 
 of Charles' house, my attention was first 
 arrested, for a moment, by the seared leaves 
 of the shrubbery, and next by the lifeless 
 
226 
 
 geraniums and other choice plants which 
 Emma had cuhivated with great care, but 
 which, in her anxiety for her husband, had 
 been neglected and destroyed. 
 
 I entered the parlor where Charles was 
 sitting, as usual, bolstered up on the sofa. 
 
 His wife was sitting on a low seat close 
 to him, and had one of his hands clasped in 
 her's. I plainly saw the impress of death 
 upon his countenance. 
 
 To my inquiry '' how he found himself," 
 he shook his head, and after a short pause 
 said, " doctor, it will soon be over with me." 
 
 Emma exclaimed, ^' my dear Charles, 
 why will you talk so — you are not worse 
 than you have been — do you think he is, 
 doctor ? 
 
 This she repeated with that sort of tone 
 which showed that she expected a confirma- 
 tion of what she had said. 
 
 I examined his pulse — it was excessively 
 rapid and small, and I noticed that his 
 breathing was very laborious. 
 
 While I was making these observations, 
 Emma kept her eyes fixed upon me in al- 
 most breathless suspense, and again repeat- 
 ed her enquiry with considerable agitation. 
 
 My reply was, '' I fear he is worse," and 
 directly asked if the clergyman had called 
 in that morning. 
 
227 
 
 On being answered in the negative, 1 ad- 
 vised sending for him immediately. 
 
 Emma instantly perceived from this, what 
 I thought of her husband, and said, with a 
 despairing look, " do you really think him 
 so dangerous ?" 
 
 Charles now collected his strength, and 
 said in a firm and perfectly calm voice, 
 *' Emma, compose yourself — do not distract 
 me at this moment — I shall not live to see 
 the sun set." 
 
 The effect of this declaration upon the 
 wretched wife, I will not attempt to des- 
 cribe. Suffice it to say, she appeared nearly 
 frantic. 
 
 In a short time, the clergyman came 
 in, and Charles, who was now removed 
 to bed, requested that there might be 
 prayers, in which he joined with great 
 fervor. They were almost interrupted at 
 times by Emma's sobs and groans, which, 
 together w ith the deep, solemn tones of Mr, 
 
 , the earnestness of his supplications, 
 
 and the frequent and fervent responses of 
 the dying man, rendered it a scene that no 
 one, however lost to the ordinary feelings of 
 humanity, could have contemplated without 
 emotion. 
 
 Charles now embraced his children, and 
 
228 
 
 took an affectionate leave of those around 
 him^ To his repeated requests to his wife 
 that she would compose herself, she only 
 returned groans and looks of unutterable 
 anguish ; when, grasping her hand in his, he 
 calmly sunk back upon his pillow, and qui- 
 etly expired. 
 
 When she saw that he was actually gone 
 — that he no longer answered to her wild 
 entreaties to speak to her once more, or give 
 her one more look, she shed not a tear. A 
 maniacal smile distorted her features, and 
 she was carried from the room in a state of 
 perfect insanity. 
 
 I shall give you only one other instance 
 of the effects of an imprudent marriage. 
 
 While I resided at , Mr. B. came 
 
 there to establish himself in business. He 
 was an American by birth, but had passed 
 many years in French society, had acquired 
 French habits and manners, and his mind had 
 become strongly tinctured with what is com- 
 monly called French philosophy. In other 
 words, he had imbibed many of the notions 
 on moral and religious subjects, so widely 
 propagated in continental Europe, by the 
 writings of Rousseau and Voltaire. He was 
 good looking, and his address decidedly 
 pleasing, though he had a slight lameness of 
 
229 
 
 one leg, which was the consequence of s 
 personal rencontre, and which always com- 
 pelled him to use a cane. 
 
 When I first knew him, he could not have 
 been much past thirty, though his hair had 
 become extremely thin on the top of his 
 head, exposing a high and finely formed 
 forehead. 
 
 He had been married a short time to a 
 young lady of seventeen or eighteen, who 
 was a native of Ireland. 
 
 She was neither beautiful nor ugly ; but 
 possessed the power of pleasing almost every 
 one, by the modesty and gentleness of her 
 deportment, and a remarkable degree of 
 native simplicity, and ingenuousness of man* 
 iier. She was one of those persons who are 
 not remarkably captivating at first sight, but 
 become agreeable on acquaintance, and rise 
 higher and higher in your estimation the 
 more they are known. 
 
 To the inattentive observer, she would be 
 eclipsed by very many of her sex. Indeed, 
 in the crowd she might pass entirely unno- 
 ticed, for her worth was wholly intrinsic, 
 and depended alone on the excellence of 
 her character. You w^ould expect to find in 
 her, perfect sincerity, undivided aflfection and 
 unwavering devotedness ; and you would act 
 be disappointed. 
 
 V 
 
230 
 
 It had been her lot to be left by the death 
 of her father, dependent upon her friends, a 
 condition far from agreeable to a person of 
 much sensibility ; and this was, probably, the 
 cause of her accepting what appeared a 
 very favorable opportunity of changing her 
 situation. 
 
 Her acquaintance with Mr. B. was very 
 short, thus precluding the possibility of her 
 learning his real character ; but as he was 
 pleased with her almost from the first time 
 he saw her, he pressed his suit with con- 
 siderable earnestness : she looked upon the 
 bright side, and confident of her own capa- 
 bility of patiently and perseveringly studying 
 to promote happiness, by doing much, and 
 enduring, if necessary, still more, she soon 
 consented to become his wife. 
 
 Probably a large proportion of females in 
 similar circumstances, would have done the 
 same thing ; yet it was casting adrift the 
 little bark of her happiness upon a wild and 
 tempestuous ocean, exposed to the fury of 
 the winds and rude conflict of the waves, and 
 entrusted to a pilot of whose skill or pru- 
 dence she knew nothing. 
 
 She had been religiously brought up ; but 
 had united her destiny with one who 
 despised all religion, or affected to do so ; 
 
231 
 
 and whose avowed creed was not dissimilar 
 to that of Thomas Paine. 
 
 I believe Mr. B. seldom spoke on this 
 subject, even in private ; and his good 
 breeding prevented his ever expressing his 
 sentiments in the presence of those to whom 
 he knew they were offensive. 
 
 His wife was one of those beings who are 
 made to love, and who must place their affec- 
 tions on some one object or other, and as her 
 husband had the highest claims upon her in 
 this way, she gave her heart to him with a 
 devotedness that could not be doubted by any 
 one. On the other hand, his anxious at-*^ 
 tentions to all her little w^ants and comforts, 
 proved that he was not insensible of her 
 worth, or undervalued her fondness fofr him. 
 
 Yet his life was to her a constant cause 
 of pain and anxiety, for he was immode- 
 rately addicted to play, and spent much of 
 his time in the society of those men whom 
 he would have been reluctant to introduce 
 to his family. 
 
 Thus far he had been generally fortunate ; 
 but every effort which his wife could make 
 to induce him to leave off gambling, (and 
 I have reason to believe that she spared 
 no pains to accomplish this object) had been 
 unavailing. 
 
 They had but one child, which was a 
 
232^ 
 
 lovely daughter, of whom he appeared do* 
 tingly fond ; and much as it might have 
 been supposed that this little being would 
 have increased his wife's influence over him, 
 it was not sufiicient to alter his course. 
 
 In the eyes of the world, there was 
 nothing to mar the happiness of this little 
 family, though there were causes which 
 were gradually destroying it. 
 
 It was well known that Mr. B. had latterly 
 sustained very heavy losses at play. In 
 order to destroy the disagreeable recol- 
 lection of which, instead of renouncing his 
 worthless associates, and complying with 
 the anxious solicitations of his wife, to spend 
 his leisure hours in the bosom of his family ; 
 he sought a temporary forgetfulness in the 
 intoxicating draught, under the influence of 
 which he had forined the desperate reso- 
 lution of winning back what he had lost, or 
 losing still more in the enterprise. 
 
 But fortune continued against him, in con- 
 sequence of which his mind became more 
 and more disturbed, and he drank deeper and 
 deeper, with the determination of drowning 
 his bitter regrets. 
 
 Notwithstanding the enormous quantities 
 he daily drank, I never saw him actually 
 intoxicated ; but his bloated face, his heavy, 
 lack-lustre eyes, and his general deportment 
 
233 
 
 convinced me of the excesses iiito which he 
 had fallen. 
 
 He neglected his business — avoided those 
 whose looks he felt as a reproof — lost all 
 relish for the pleasures of his home ; and 
 from an attentive husband and a fond pa- 
 rent, became transformed to a capricious 
 tyrant, regardless of the ties of Nature. 
 
 It is difficult to conceive what would have 
 been the final consequences of the career he 
 was now running, had nothing interrupted 
 it. But he was suddenly attacked in the 
 midst of it, by a violent inflammation of the 
 lungs. 
 
 This disease, so far as I have seen, is 
 one of the most frequent among the intem- 
 perate ; and often the most intractable of 
 all those to which their habits expose themr 
 It is a disease that commonly requires a 
 great loss of blood to check it ; and as all 
 the blood of the system must pass through 
 the lungs, to be renovated by the action of 
 the air we breathe, its progress becomes ob- 
 structed by the change which inflammation 
 produces in these organs, and the heart is 
 roused to violent eftorts to drive forw ard the 
 vital current. Of course, we bleed copiously 
 in order to relieve the heart's action, and 
 lessen the quantity of blood passing through 
 the lungs. 
 
234 
 
 Bat above all men, those who are intem- 
 perate, bear a great loss of blood the worst ; 
 consequently, their chance of recovery from 
 a disease that absolutely requires it, is ma- 
 terially diminished. 
 
 Mr. B. experienced so much relief from 
 the first bleeding, and other remedies em- 
 ployed, that he flattered himself with a 
 speedy recovery. Next morning, however, 
 I found that his disease had been checked, 
 but not subdued ; and I again had recourse 
 to active treatment. In the evening he was 
 so much better^ that he spoke of being out 
 again in a day or two, but early on the fol- 
 lowing morning I was sent for, and found 
 the complaint had returned with redoubled 
 violence. 
 
 His breathing was very difficult, and his 
 fever excessive, and there was some reason 
 to think that he had been taking some stimu- 
 lating drink during the night, without the 
 knowledge of his wife. 
 
 He seemed now somewhat alarmed, and 
 said, '' I am very ill, doctor, I have passed 
 a wretched night ; I am sure I must lose 
 more blood." 
 
 I replied, '^ You are indeed, very ill." For 
 I saw that his case was now extremely dan- 
 gerous, to say the least, and while I bound 
 up his arm to bleed him, I requested that 
 
235 
 
 my friend doctor , naight be called in 
 
 -consultation. 
 
 At this request he seemed fully to under^ 
 stand my opinion of his case, and said, with 
 considerable agitation, '* What ! am I really 
 in a dangerous condition ? Has it in fact, 
 come to this?" He appeared thoughtful, 
 and his agitation increased. 
 
 In a short time doctor came, and it 
 
 was decided that nothing but the most vigo- 
 rous measures could give him any chance 
 for his life. 
 
 After giving the necessary directions, 
 we left him for a short time, but when I 
 returned, he was no better ; the disease 
 seemed unconquerable. 
 
 As I have before remarked, inflammation 
 of the lungs, in intemperate persons, often 
 baffles the most prompt treatment, even 
 when employed at the very onset ; w^iile in 
 the temperate it yields, in a large proportion 
 of cases, to less active measures. 
 
 In the case of Mr. B. the system of hard- 
 drinking had goaded on the vital powers to 
 the most desperate movements ; and when 
 inflammatory action was once set up in 
 organs indispensably necessary to life, it 
 could be smothered for a time, but nothing 
 more — and it v/as at last, like the bursting 
 forth of a volcano, sudden and overwhelming. 
 
236 
 
 As I entered the room, he said, with a 
 look that cannot be described, so full of 
 bitter self-reproach and horrid apprehen- 
 sions of the future, at the same time strug- 
 gling to force a smile, in order to conceal 
 his emotion and appear undisturbed, but 
 which was a sort of convulsive movement 
 of the muscles of the face, that gave him 
 the most frightful expression ; indeed, it 
 made my blood chill in my veins at the mo- 
 ment, and has never since been called to 
 mind without something of the same sensa- 
 tion, — ^' Well, doctor, I am no better. It is 
 a gone case with me." 
 
 He paused for a moment, and then asked 
 me if I did not think so. 
 
 I examined his pulse. It vibrated under 
 my finger one hundred and forty in the mi- 
 nute. 
 
 " I fear," said I, '' your condition is des- 
 perate." Although he appeared to have 
 made up his mind for this reply, it evidently 
 shocked him. 
 
 He could coolly say himself that his dis- 
 ease was fatal ; but to hear the same thing 
 from the mouth of his physician, was quite 
 different in its effects, and shows how ready 
 we are to represent our condition to our 
 friends, far worse than we really believe it 
 to be. 
 
237 
 
 After a little time he continued, *'well, 
 we must all come to it at last, but that is 
 the end of it." 
 
 Poor wretch ! how impossible was it for 
 him to appear unconcerned. It was plain 
 that a voice within him, which he could not 
 stifle, proclaimed to him that it was not 
 *Hhe end of it," and that eternity should 
 not be '* the end of it." 
 
 I hesitated a little, and then remarked, 
 that *'the prospect of death was calculated 
 to fill most of us with concern." 
 
 *' Yes," said he, coolly, ''that is natural. 
 The mind shrinks from the agony of that 
 moment, for few of us have philosophy 
 enough to bear pain with perfect indiffer- 
 ence. But after all it is a natural process. 
 It is only obeying the laws which govern 
 all organized matter." 
 
 He became more calm, as he thus be- 
 guiled his thoughts from resting upon him- 
 self by these specious arguments, and con- 
 tinued, ''excepting the short struggle, death 
 should give us no uneasiness." 
 
 I replied, " I believe it is the change to 
 another state of existence, that most men 
 dread, more than the bodily suffering." 
 
 "Oh," said he, "that we know nothing 
 about. That we have been created by some 
 great power, we have reason to believe, and 
 
238 
 
 that we must all die, we know — but it is not 
 very likely that we were made to occupy 
 two worlds." 
 
 '^Nevertheless," said I, ''that has been 
 the opinion of most men in every age and 
 country of the world." 
 
 " I know it," said he, and his counte- 
 nance appeared anxious. 
 
 After a pause, he said, " but they are all 
 as likely to be wrong as right." 
 
 I felt reluctant to say more, but as he 
 seemed quite as much disposed to converse, 
 though he did it with some difficulty, as to 
 be occupied with his ov^^^n thoughts, I added, 
 " the Bible has much evidence in support of 
 its divine origin, and that makes man im- 
 mortal." 
 
 " Ah ! the Bible," said he, " is an in- 
 genious work, but only fit to be read by 
 those who have been taught to believe it." 
 
 This was said in that sort of significant 
 manner, which plainly showed that he re- 
 ferred to what he would call the influence 
 of priestcraft. 
 
 Not wishing to take his meaning, I en- 
 quired if he had not " been brought up by 
 Christian parents ?" 
 
 This question was like an electric shock, 
 and doubtless called up all those early im- 
 pressions which he had received from a 
 
239 
 
 pious mother, and which, though he had 
 managed to smother, had been too deep and 
 lasting ever to be entirely eiFaced. A shght 
 shudder ran over him, for he was forced to 
 yield to one of the strongest laws which go- 
 vern us — the influence of early education — 
 and a groan involuntarily escaped him. 
 
 He made me no answer, but as if unwilling 
 to show any marks of weakness, or to have 
 me think that the groan was produced by 
 what was passing in his mind, he immedi- 
 ately laid his hand on his breast, and said, 
 *'Oh! this pain!" 
 
 Perhaps it was in reality the pain, but I 
 doubt it. 
 
 His wife was at the time standing by his 
 side, but she uttered not a word. Tears 
 flowed in torrents, and her frame was 
 shaken by the violence of her grief. 
 
 She then left him for a short time, and as 
 if less ashamed of betraying weakness before 
 me, than before the companion of his bosom, 
 who had doubtless in vain exhausted all the 
 arguments which a devoted attachment 
 could suggest, to convince him of his dan- 
 gerous error. (Such is the foolish pride of 
 the human heart.) He said with peculiar 
 emphasis, *' this is a serious business after 
 all, doctor ; and if there be such a thing as 
 another world'' He stopped short, lest 
 
240 
 
 he might betray his fears ; but it could be 
 easily perceived how little, in fact, he relied 
 upon his avowed opinions. 
 
 I was at a loss what to say or do, in order 
 to be useful to him. To have exhorted him 
 to repentance, and faith in a Redeemer, 
 would in all probability have driven him to 
 his old arguments against Christianity, and 
 might have aroused his displeasure. 
 
 I knew that his pride was so deeply con- 
 cerned in sustaining to the last the doctrines 
 he had professed, that a single word was 
 sufficient to awaken it ; and thought on the 
 whole it might be safest to leave him to his 
 own reflections. 
 
 At this moment his wife entered the room 
 again, and for reasons above alluded to, to 
 think of his being benefitted by any thing I 
 could say in her presence, was out of the 
 question. 
 
 I then left the room, and soon after she 
 followed me, and entreated me to tell her if 
 his case was hopeless. I replied, ' I fear it is.' 
 
 ** Oh ! must he die in this state ?" she 
 exclaimed. *' Oh ! those impious books !" 
 (meaning the writings of Paine, Rousseau, 
 and Voltaire.) '' Must he die impenitent ?" 
 She seemed entirely to forget herself, her 
 child, and the bonds that were to be severed, 
 in her anxiety for his future condition. 
 
241 
 
 * Oh, will he not see Mr. ,' (the clergy- 
 man) she continued, ^ at this awful moment r' 
 
 She trembled at the thought of proposing 
 it to him, but summoning resolution, she 
 rushed into the sick room, and throwing 
 herself on her knees by the side of the bed, 
 and clasping one of his hands in both of hers, 
 begged to know if he would see Mr. — . 
 
 *' Do you think me a fool ?" he replied ; 
 probably referring to the inconsistency of 
 such a step with his avowed principles, and 
 then followed one of those ghastly attempts 
 to smile, which was so unearthly that his 
 wife could not look upon him ; but dropping 
 her head upon the bed, gave an hysterical 
 scream, followed by loud sobbing and groans. 
 
 The effect of this was very evident upon 
 Mr. B. ; and the effort which he made to 
 control his feelings in his debilitated state, 
 seemed to threaten immediate dissolution. 
 
 His features were now shrunk and deadly 
 pale ; his eyes glared wildly on those around 
 him, indicating approaching mental alien- 
 ation ; his breathing was short and convul- 
 sive, and his pulse could scarcely be counted. 
 
 At this time one of his boon companions 
 for many months past, came in to see him, 
 and was so struck with his appearance, that 
 he actually trembled and turned pale. 
 
 Mr. B. stretched out his hand to him, and 
 
242 
 
 spoke, but rather incoherently. It was plain 
 that he wandered. 
 
 Soon after he pointed to a decanter of 
 brandy on the table, and said, '' there, help 
 yourself." 
 
 His companion shook his head, and uttered 
 not a word ; but he continued, " yes, take a 
 drink." 
 
 He was now very restless, and muttered 
 occasionally, but could not be understood. 
 
 At length he said distinctly, " raise me 
 up ;" but it was scarcely done, when he gave 
 an awful struggle, and expired immediately. 
 
 Who could witness a scene like this with- 
 out emotion ? or who would wish to die such 
 a death ? If religion is all a delusion, it is 
 a very happy one ; and infinitely prefer- 
 able at such a moment to that cold-blooded 
 philosophy, which teaches that there is no 
 hereafter. 
 
 The Christian's prospect grows brighter 
 and brighter to the last. The Infidel be- 
 holds nothing but blackness and darkness 
 before him, which every moment grows 
 more awful ; and his soul shrinks within 
 him, while contemplating approaching anni- 
 hilation. But that of the Christian is 
 buoyed up by the cheering hope of eternal 
 felicity. 
 
 THE END. 
 
^.^S^v^ 
 
d^