'A face with gladness overspread!Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!And seemliness complete, that swaysThy courtesies, about thee plays!'"I have known few persons with as exquisite æsthetical perceptions as my lovely friend Minnie. So I promised myself great pleasure in taking her to see Cole's celebrated series of pictures—The Course of Time. It was soon after Cole's lamented death; and, as Minnie had been some time living where she was deprived of such enjoyments, she had never seen these fine pictures.As we drove along towards the Art Union Gallery, the fair enthusiast was all eager expectation. "How often my kind friend Mr. S—— B. R——, used to talk to me of Cole," said she, "and promise me the pleasure of knowing him. When he died I felt as though I had lost a dear friend, as I had indeed, for all who worship art, have a friend in each child of genius.""Cole was emphatically one of these," returned I, "as his conceptions alone prove.""Yes, indeed," replied Minnie, "I always think of him as thepoet-painter, since I saw his first series—the 'Progress of Empire.' Only a poet's imagination could conceive his subjects."I placed my sweet friend in the most favorable position for enjoying each picture in succession, and seated myself at her side, rather for the gratification of listening to the low murmurs of delight that should be breathed by her kindred soul, than to view the painter's skill, as that no longer possessed the attraction of novelty for me.We had just come to the sublime portraiture of "Manhood," and Minnie seemed wholly absorbed in her own thoughts and imaginings. Suddenly a silly giggle broke the charmed stillness. The Devotee of the Beautiful started, as if abruptly awakened from a dream, and a slight shiver ran through her sensitive frame.Turning, I perceived, standing close behind us, a group of young persons, chattering and laughing, and pointing to different parts of the picture before us. Their platitudes were not, perhaps, especially stupid, nor were they more noisy and rude than I have knownfree-born republicansbefore, under somewhat similar circumstances; but poor Minnie endured absolute torture; her idealized delight vanished before a coarse reality. I well remember the imploring and distressed look with which she whispered: "Let us go, dear Colonel;" and one glance at her pale face satisfied me that the spell was irrevocably broken for her, and that her long anticipated "joy," in beholding "a thing of beauty" had indeed been cruelly alloyed.If my memory serves me aright, I told you something, in a former letter, of an interesting lady, a friend of mine, whose husband was shot all to pieces in the Mexican War, and after lying for many months in an almost hopeless condition, finally so far recovered as to be removed to the sea-board, to take ship for New Orleans. When informed of this, his beautiful young wife—a belle, a beauty, and the petted idol of a large family circle before her marriage—set out, at mid-winter, accompanied by one of her brothers and taking with her the infant-child, whom its soldier-father had never seen, to meet her husband on his homeward route. This explanation will render intelligible the following incident, which she herself related to me."My brother remained with us some time at New Orleans," said the fair narrator; "but, as Ernest began to improve, I entreated him to return home, as both his business and his family demanded his attention; and you know, Colonel Lunettes," she added, with a sad smile, "that asoldier's wifemust learn to be brave, for her own sake as well as for his. Ernest had with him an excellent, faithful servant, who was fully competent to such service as I could not render, and my little boy's nurse was with me, of course. So we made our homeward journey by slow stages, but with less suffering to my husband than we could have hoped, and I grew strong as soon as we were re-united, and felt adequate to anything, almost."The fair young creature added the last word with the same mournful smile that had before flitted over her sweet face, and as if rather in reply to the doubtful expression she read in my countenance, than from any remembrance of having failed, in the slightest degree, in the task of which she spoke."On the night of our arrival at A——, however," pursued Mrs. V——, "we seemed to reach such a climax of fatigue and trial, as to make further endurance literally impossible for poor Ernest. Our little child had been taken ill the day before, so that I could not devote myself so entirely to him as I could have wished; and, as we drew near home, his impatience seemed to increase the pain of his wounds, so that, on this evening, he was almost exhausted both in body and mind. We stopped at the D—— House, as being nearest the depot, which was a great point with us; but such a comfortless, shiftless place!"——"An abominable hole!" I ejaculated; "one never gets anything fit to eat there!""That was the least of our difficulties," returned the lady, "as we had to leave our man-servant to look after our luggage, it was with great difficulty that my poor husband was assisted up stairs into the public parlor, and he almost fainted while I gave a few hurried directions about a room. Such a scene as it was! The poor baby, weary and sleepy, began to cry for mamma, and nurse had as much as she could do with the care of him. Ernest had sunkdown upon the only sofa in the room—a huge, heavy machine of a thing, that looked as though never designed to be moved from its place against the wall. I gave my husband a restorative, but in vain. He grew so ghastly pale that"——a sob here choked the utterance of the speaker."My dear child," said I, taking her hand, "do not say another word; I cannot forgive myself for asking you these particulars—all is well now—do not recall the past!""Excuse me, dear Colonel, Iwishto tell you, I want you to know, how we were treated by a brute in human form—to ask you whether you could have believed in the existence of such a being—so utterly destitute of common politeness, not to say humanity.""I hope no one who could aid you, in this extremity, failed to do so.""You shall hear. Ernest was shivering with cold, as well as exhaustion, and whispered to me that he would try to sit by the fire until the room was prepared. I looked round the place for an easy-chair; there was but one, and that was occupied by a man who was staring at us, as though we were curiosities exhibited for his especial benefit.""'Ernest,'said I aloud, 'you are too weak to sit in one of these chairs without arms, and with nothing to support your head.'"'I will try, love,' he replied, 'for I am so cold!'"'I will ask that man for hischair,' I whispered.Poor Ernest! his eyes flashed. 'No! No!' said he, 'if he has not the decency to offer it, you shall not speak to him!'"Of course, I would not irritate him by opposition, but placed an ordinary chair before the fire, and, supporting him into it, held his head on my shoulder, while I chafed his benumbed hands. In the meanwhile, the wail of the baby did not help to quiet us, nor to shorten the time of waiting; and it seemed as if John would never make his appearance, nor the room I had ordered be prepared. By my direction, nurse rang the bell. I inquired of the very placid individual who answered it, whether the room was ready for us, and upon being told that they were making the fire, entreated the emblem of serenity to hasten operations, and at once to bring me a cup of hot tea. Minutes seemed hours to me, as you may suppose, and the dull eyes that were fastened upon us from the centre of the stuffed chair, I so longed for, really made me nervous. I felt as though it might be some horrid ghoul, rather than anything human, thus looking upon our misery. 'Good G——, Lu!' said Ernest, at last, 'isn't the bed ready yet?'"I could bear it no longer. Gently withdrawing my support from the weary, weary head, I flew to my boy, snatched him from nurse, and signifying my design to her, we united our powers, and, laying baby on the sofa, we succeeded in pushing it up to the side of the fire-place. Then, while I hushed the child on my breast, we piled up our wrappings andplaced my husband upon the couch, so as to rest his poor wounded frame (you know, Colonel, his spine was injured). The groan, half of relief and half of torture, that broke from his lips, as he rested his head, was like to be the 'last straw' that broke my heart—but the soldier's wife! How often did I repeat to myself, during that long journey:'Remember thou'rt asoldier's wife,Those tears but ill become thee!'"Well! by this time, John made his appearance, and, consigning his master temporarily to his care, I took nurse with me, and went to see what a woman's ready hand could do in expediting matters elsewhere. When showed to the room we were expected to occupy, I found it so filled with smoke, and so dreadfully cold, as to be wholly uninhabitable, and in despair sent for the steward, or whoever he was, to whom I had given directions at first. No other room with two beds could be secured. By the glimmering light of the small lamp in the hand of the Irishman, who was laboring with the attempt at a fire, I investigated a little; the smouldering coals belched forth volumes of smoke into my face. Nothing daunted by this ('twas not the 'smoke of battle,' though I felt as though in the midst of a conflict of life and death), I bade the man remove the blower. Behold the draught closed by the strip of stone sometimes used for that purpose, after a hard coal fire is fully ignited! I think, Colonel, youwould have admired the laconic, imperiously cool tone and manner with which I speedily effected the removal of the entire mass of cold hard coal, substituted for it, light, dry wood, and covering up my boy, as he still rested in my arms, dissipated the smoke that contended with the close, shut-up sort of air in the room, for disagreeability, by opening the windows, had the most comfortable looking of the beds drawn near the fire, and opened to air and warm, ordered up the trunks we wanted, opened them, hung a warm flannel dressing-gown near the fire, placed his slippers and everything else Ernest would want justwherethey would be wanted, near the best chair I could secure, and the table that was to receive his supper when he should be ready for it, and, in shortput the matter through, as Ernest would say, with the speed of desperation. It was wonderful how quickly all this, and more, was effected by the people about me chiefly through my ability to tell them exactly what to do and how to do it. Excuse me if I boast; it was the deep calmness of despair that inspired me!NowI can smile at the look of blank amazement with which Paddy received my announcement of the necessity of taking out all the coals from the grate, before he could hope to kindle a fire, and the stare of theman of affairsfor the D—— House, as he entered upon the field of my efforts to say that tea was ready.""There is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous!" I exclaimed, laughing, in spite of mysympathy with my fair friend. "And what became of the barbarian in the large chair?""Oh, when I returned to the parlor to have Ernest removed to our own room, there he sat, still, lolling comfortably back in his chair, with his hat on, and his feet laid up before him, and apparently as much occupied as ever in staring at the strangers, and no more'On hospitable thoughts intent'than when I quitted the room, the horrid ghoul! I was so rejoiced to escape with my treasures safe from his blighting gaze! But now for themoralof my story, dear Colonel, for every story has its moral, I suppose,—John, Ernest's man, told nurse, who, by the way, was so highly indignant on the occasion, as to assure me afterwards, that if she had been a man, she'd have just pitched the selfish brute beast out of the chair, and taken it for Mr. V——, without so much as a 'by your leave.'"——I could not refrain from interrupting Mrs. —— to say that I thought I should have been sorely tempted to some such act myself, under the circumstances."Yes," pursued Mrs. V——, "nurse still recurs to that 'awful cold night in A——' with an invariable malediction upon the 'bad speretas kept the chair.' But, as I was saying, John told her afterwards that the ghoul asked him who that sick gentleman was, and said that his wife appeared to be in so much trouble that he should have offered to help her along a little, but hewasn't acquainted with her!""Uncle Hal, isn't an artista gentleman?" inquired Blanche of me one morning, during a recent visit to our great Commercial Metropolis, as the newspaper writers call it. "What do you mean, child," said I, "you cannot mean to ask whether artistsrank as gentlemenin society, for that does not admit of question." I saw there was something troubling her, the moment she came down, for she did not welcome her old uncle with her usual sparkling smile, though she snugged close up to me on the sofa, and kept my hand in both of hers, while we were arranging some matters about which I had called."Is not anengraveran artist?" she inquired, with increased earnestness of tone. "Does not an engraver who has a largeatelier, numbers ofemployés, and does all kinds of beautiful prints, heads, and landscapes, and elegant figures, take rank in social life with other gentlemen?""Certainly, my dear; but tell me what you are thinking of; what troubles you my child?""Well, you remember, dear uncle, perhaps, the young orphan boy in whom papa and all of us used to be so interested the summer you spent with us, long ago, when we were all children at home. He is now established in this city, after years of struggle with difficulties that would have crushed a less noble spirit, and his sisters, for whom he has always provided, in a great degree, though at the cost of almost incredible self-denial, as I happen to know, are now nearly prepared for teachers. We havealways retained our interest in them all; and they always make us a visit when they are at D——. Indeed, papa always says he knows few young men for whom he entertains so high a regard; and I am sure he is very good-looking, and though he may not be very fashionable,—you needn't smile, uncle Hal, I"——"My dear, I am charmed with your sketch, and shall go, at once, and have my old visage engraved by your handsome artist-friend; and when I publish my auto-biography, it shall be accompanied by a 'portrait of the author,' superbly engraved by a 'celebrated artist.'""Heiscelebrated, uncle, really; you have no idea of the vast number of orders he has from all parts of the country, nor how beautifully he gets up everything. But I must tell you," proceeded the sensitive little thing, with more cheerfulness, for I had succeeded in my design of cheering her up a little—"Mr. Zousky—Henry, as we always call him, has been engraving the head of one of our friends at home for a literary affair—some biographical book, or something of that sort, and he came up to show me one of the 'first impressions,' as I think he calls them, and to bring a message from his sister, last evening—wishing me to 'criticise,' he told me, as he had nothing but rather an indifferent daguerreotype to copy from. It was just before tea that he called—because he is busy all day, I suppose, and perhaps, he thought he should be sure of finding me, then. Indeed, he said something about fearing to intrude later, when there might be other visitors—he is the most sensitive and unobtrusive being! Well, just as we were having a nice little chat about old times at D——, cousin Charles came home and came into the parlor. Of course, he knows Henry very well, for he has seen him often and often at our house, when he used to be there in vacations with my brothers; and, indeed, once before Henry came here to live, was one of a party of us, who went to his little studio, to see his self-taught paintings and sketches. When he entered the room, I said, 'cousin Charles, our friend Mr. Zousky does not need an introduction to you, I am sure.' I cannot describe his manner. I did not so much mind its being cold and indifferent, but it was not that ofan equal—of one gentleman to another, and without sitting down, even for a moment, he walked back to the dining-room, and I heard him ask the servant whether tea was ready. Henry rose in a moment, and took my hand to say good-bye—oh, uncle, I cannot tell you how hurt I was! His voice was as low and gentle as ever, but his face betrayed him! I know he noticed cousin Charles' manner. I was determined that he should not go away so; so I didn't get up, but drew him to a seat by me on the sofa, and said that he must not go yet, unless he had an engagement, for that I had not half done telling him what I wished, and rattled on, hardly knowing what Ididsay, for I was so grieved and mortified. He said he would come again, as it was my tea-time, but I insisted that my tea was of no consequence, and that I much preferred talking to afriend—all the while hoping that either cousin Maria or cousin Charles would come and invite him to take tea. Presently I heard cousin Maria come down, and then the glass doors were closed between the rooms, and I knew they were at tea. Why, uncle Hal, papa would no more have done such a thing inhishouse, than he would have robbed some one! What! wound the feelings of any one for fear of not being 'genteel!' that's the word, I suppose—I hear cousin Maria use it very often! We were always taught by dear mamma, while she lived, to be particularly polite and attentive to those who might not be as happy or prosperous as ourselves. She used to say that fashionable and distinguished people were the least likely to observe those things, but that the sensitive and self-distrustful were apt to be almost morbidly alive to every indication of neglect. 'Never brush rudely by the human sensitive plant, my dears,' she used to say, 'lest you should bruise the tender leaves; and never forget that it most needs thesunshine of smiles!' Dear mamma! she used to be so polite to Henry—notpatronizing, but so friendly, so considerate—always she put him at ease when there was other company at our house (though he never came in when he knew there were other visitors), and she used to do so many kind things to assist his first efforts in his art! I only hope he understood thatIhave no rights here. I am sure Ifeelthat I have not! But I would rather be treated a hundred times over again as I was last night, myself, than tohave Henry's feelings wounded; still, I must say that I should not think, because she happened to be detained past the exact tea-hour, of sending away the tea-things and keeping cold slops in a pitcher for any guest inmyhouse, if I had one"——"Hush, Blanche! I never heard you talk so indiscreetly before!""Well, I don't care! Papamademe come here to stay, because he said they had visited us, and came out to Bel's wedding, and all; but I do so wish I was at the St. Nicholas with you and the Clarks, uncle, dear! Cousin Charles ain't like himself since he married his fashionable New York wife; even when he comes to pa's he isn't, thoughtherehe throws off his cold, ceremonious manner somewhat. But I really feel as if I was in a straight-jacket here!""Why, Blanche, what's the trouble? I am sure everything is very elegant and fashionable here!""Yes, too elegant and fashionable for poor little me! I am not used to that, and don't care for it. I'd rather have a little more friendliness and sociability than all the splendor. I am constantly reminded of my utter insignificance; and you know, uncle, poor Blanche is spoiled, as you often say, and not used to being reduced to a mere nonentity!"With this the silly child actually began to cry, and when I tried to soothe her, only sobbed out, in broken words: "I wouldn't be such a goose as to mind it, if Henry Zousky had not been treated so so, so—so—fash-ion-a-bly!"Looking over some letters from a sprightly correspondent of mine, the other day, I laid aside one from which I make the following extract, as apposite to my subject:"You asked me to give you some account of the social position, etc., and an idea of the husband of your former favorite, M—— S——. 'What is Dr. J—— like?' you inquire:—Like nothing in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, I answer; and, therefore, he might be worshipped without a violation of the injunction of the Decalogue! How such a vivacious creature as M—— S—— came to tie herself for life to such a mule, passes my powers of solution. Dr. J—— is very accomplished in his profession, for a young man, I hear, and much respected for his professional capacity—but socially he is—nothing!—the merest cipher conceivable! A man may bevery quietat home, now-a-days, and yet pass muster; but there are times when hemust act, as it seems to me; but M——'s husband seems to be aman of one idea, and that never, seemingly, suggests the duties of host. But you shall judge for yourself.—While I was in A——, we were all invited there one evening, to meet a bride, an old friend of M——'s, stopping in town on her marriage tour. M—— said it was too early in the season for a large party, and that we were expected quiteen famille; but it was, in reality, quite an occasion, nevertheless, as the bride and her party were fashionable Bostonians. I happened to be near the hostess, whentheguestsof the evening entered. She received them with her usualFrenchyease and playfulness of manner, and it seemed that the gentleman was an old friend of hers, but did not know her husband. He expressed the hope that Dr. J——'s professional duties would not deprive them of his society the whole evening, as he much desired the pleasure of his acquaintance. I saw, by the heightening of her color, that M——, woman of the world though she be, felt the unintended sarcasm of this polite language; for Dr. J. was calmly ensconced in the deep recess of a largefauteuilin the corner of the fire-place, apparently enjoying the glowing coal-fire that always adds its cheerful influence to the elegant belongings of M——'s splendid drawing-room. Throughout the entire evening our effigy of a host kept his post, where we found him on entering. People went to him, chatted a while, and moved away; we danced, refreshments were served, wine was quaffed,'All went merry as a marriage bell;'M—— glided about from group to group, with an appropriate word, or courteous attention for each one, and, in addition to the flowers that adorned the rooms, presented the bride of her old friend with an exquisite bouquet, saying, in her pretty way, that she would have been delighted to receive her in a bower of roses, when she learned from Mr. —— how much she liked flowers, but that Flora was in a pet with her since she had given up her old conservatoryat her father's. As the evening waned, I observed her weariness, despite the hospitable smile; and well she might be! Several times she slipped away to her babe; once, when I stood near her, she started slightly:'I thought I heard anursery-cry,' she whispered to me,'my little boy is not wellto-night;' and I missed her soon after. When I went away, I, of course, sought the master of the house to say good-night. He half rose, with a half smile, in recognition of my adieu, and re-settled himself, apparently wholly unconscious of any possible occasion for further effort! But the climax, in true epic style, was reserved for thefinale. It was a frightfully stormy night, and when we came down to the street door to go away, there stood M——, in her thin dress, the cold wind and sleet-rain rushing in when the door was opened, enough to carry away her fairy figure,seeing off her friend and his bride!""My dear Miss C——," exclaimed a gentleman after listening to the complaint of a lady who had just been charging the lords of creation with the habitual discourtesy of retaining their hats when speaking to ladies, in stores and shops, as well as in public halls and even in the drawing-room; "My dear Miss C——, don't you know that 'Young America'always wears his hat and boots whenever he can?""Does hesleep in them?" inquired the lady."Well, my dears," I overheard a high-bred and exceedingly handsome man inquiring of two lovely English girls, on board a steamer the other day, "how did you succeed in your efforts to dine to-day? I will not again permit you to be separated from your aunt and me, if we find the table ever so crowded.""But we had Charley, you know, sir," returned one of the fair interlocutors, with a smile worthy of Hebe herself."True, but Charley is only a child; and boys as well as women fare ill at public tables in this 'land of liberty and equality,' unless aided by some powerful assistant!""I thought we had found such a champion to-day," exclaimed the other lady, "in the person who sat next me at dinner. His hands were so nice that I should not have objected in the least to his offering me such dishes as were within his reach, especially as there seemed to be no servant to attend us, and we really sat half through the first course without bread or water. Having nothing else to do, for some time, I quietly amused myself with observing my courteous neighbor. So wholly absorbed did he seem in his own contemplations, so utterly oblivious of everything around him, except the contents of his heaped-up plate, that I soon became convinced that I had the honor to be in close proximity to a philosopher, at least, andprobably to some fixed star in the realms of science!""Oh, Clare! I am so sorry to tell you, but I learned afterwards, accidentally, that your profound-looking neighbor is—a dentist!""And, therefore, accustomed only to themost painful associations with the mouths of others!" chimed in the aristocrat, laughing in chorus: "Well, as our shrewd, sensible friend, the daughter of the Siddons, used to say, after her return from America, 'if the Americans profess to be allequal, they should beequally well bred!'"With a repetition of this doubly sarcastic apothegm, my dear friends, for the present,Adieu!Harry Lunettes.LETTER VII.HEALTH, THE TOILET, ETC.My dear Nephews:Sinceno man can fulfill his destiny as an actively-useful member of society withoutHealth, perhaps a few practical suggestions on this important subject may not be inconsistent with our present purpose.The only reliable foundation upon which to base the hope of securing permanent possession of this greatest of earthly blessings, is the early acquisition ofHabits of Temperance.In a proper sense of the word, Temperance is an all-inclusive term—it does not mean abstaining from strong drink, only, nor from over-eating, nor from any one form of self-indulgence or dissipation; but it requiresmoderation in all things, for its full illustration.It was this apprehension of the term that was truthfully exhibited in the long, useful, consistent life of our distinguished countryman, John Quincy Adams. Habits formed in boyhood, in strict accordance with this principle, and adhered to in every varying phase of circumstance throughout his prolonged existence, were the proximate cause of his successful and admirable career. And what a career! How triumphantly successful, how worthy of admiration! More than half a century did he serve his country, at home and abroad, dying at last, with his armor on,—a watchman, faithful, even unto death, upon the ramparts of the Citadel, where Justice, Truth, and Freedom have found a last asylum. Think you that the intellectual and moral purposes of his being could have been borne out by the most resolute exercise of will, but for the judicious training of thephysique? Or could the higher attributes of his nature have been developed, indeed, in conjunction with a body 'cabined, cribbed and confined' by the enervating influence of youthful self-indulgence? Born on—"Stern New-England's rocky shore,"no misnamed luxury shrouded his frame from the discipline of that Teacher, "around whose steps the mountain breezes blow, and from whose countenance all the virtues gather strength." You are, doubtless, all familiar with Mr. Adams' habits of early rising, bathing, etc. The latter, even, he maintained until within two years of his death, bathing in an open stream each morning, if his locality permitted the enjoyment, at a very early hour. I have his own authority for the fact that he, during the different periods of his public sojourn abroad, laved hisvigorous frame in almost every river of Europe! Franklin, too, ascribed his triumph over the obstacles that obstructed his early path to a strict adherence to the rules of Temperance. And so, indeed, with most of the truly great men whose names illumine the pages of our country's history:—I might multiply examples almostad infinitum, but your own reading will enable you to endorse the correctness of my assertion.Since we have, incidentally, alluded to theBath, in connection with the example of Mr. Adams, let us commence the consideration of personal habits, with this agreeable and essential accessory of Health.Though authorities may differ respecting some minor details with regard to bathing, I believe medical testimony all goes to sanction its adoption by all persons, in some one of its modifications. Constitutional peculiarities should always be consulted in the establishment of individual rules,—hence no general directions can be made applicable to all persons. The cold bath, though that most frequently adopted by persons in health, is, no doubt, injurious in some cases, and careful observation alone can enable each individual to establish the precise temperature at which his ablutions will be most beneficial.But, while the most scrupulous and unvarying regard for cleanliness should be considered of primary importance, the indiscreet use of the bath should be avoided with equal care. Bishop Heber, one of the best and most useful of men, sacrificedhimself in the midst of a career of eminent piety, to an imprudent use of this luxury, arising either from ignorance or inadvertency. After rising very early to baptize several native converts recently made in India, the field of his labors, he returned to his bungalow in a state of exhaustion from excitement and abstinence, and, without taking any nourishment, threw himself into a bath, and soon after expired!—No one can safely resort to the bath when the bodily powers are much weakened, by whatever cause; and though it is unwise to use it directly after taking a full meal, it should not immediately precede the chief meal of the day, if that be taken at a late hour, and after prolonged abstinence and exertion.Theart of swimmingearly acquired, affords the most agreeable and beneficial mode of bathing, not to dwell upon its numerous recommendations in other respects; but when this enjoyment cannot be secured, nor even the luxury of an immersion bath, luckily for health, comfort, and propriety, the means ofsponge bathingmay always be secured, at least in this country (wherever it has risen above barbarism), though I must say that frequently during my travels in England, and even through towns boasting good hotels, I found water and towels at a high premium, and very difficult of acquisition at that! Sponging the whole person upon rising, either in cold or tepid water, as individual experience proves best, with the use of the Turkish towel, or some similar mode of friction, is one of the best preparations for a day of useful exertion.This practice has collateral advantages, inasmuch as it naturally leads to attention to all the details of the toilet essentially connected with refinement and health—to proper care of the Hair, Teeth, Nails, etc.,—in short, to a neat and suitable arrangement of the dress before leaving one's apartment in the morning. To slippered age belongs the indulgence of a careless morning toilet; but with the morning of life we properly associate readiness for action in some pursuit demanding steady and prolonged exertion, early begun, and with every faculty and attribute in full exercise.Fashion sanctions so many varying modes of wearing or not wearing thehair, that no directions can be given in relation to it, except such as enjoin the avoidance of all fantastic dressing, and the observance of entire neatness with relation to it. Careful brushing, together with occasional ablutions, will best preserve this natural ornament; and I would, also, suggest the use of suchpomadesonly as are most delicately scented. No gentleman should go about like a walking perfumer's shop, redolent, not of—"Sabean odors from the spicy shoresOf Araby the Blest,"but of spirits of turpentine, musk, etc., 'commixed and commingled' in 'confusion worse confounded' to all persons possessed of a nicety of nervous organization. All perfumes for the handkerchiefs, or worn about the person, should be, not only of the most unexceptionable kind, but used in very moderatequantities. Their profuse use will ill supply the neglect of the bath, or of the proper care of the teeth and general toilet.TheTeethcannot be too carefully attended to by those who value good looks, as well as health. And nothing tends more towards their preservation than the habitual use of the brush, before retiring, as well as in the morning. The use of some simple uninjurious adjunct to the brush may be well; but pure water and the brush, faithfully applied, will secure cleanliness—the great preservative of these essential concomitants of manly beauty. If you use tobacco—(and I fervently hope none of you who have not the habit will ever allow yourselves to acquire it!)—but if you are, unfortunately, enslaved by the habit, never omit to rinse the mouth thoroughly after smoking (I will not admit the possibility, that anyyoung man, in this age of progressive refinement, is addicted to habitualchewing), and never substitute the use of a strong odor for this proper observance, especially when going into the society of ladies. Smoke dispellers must yield the palm to the purifying effects of the unadulterated element, after all.The utmost nicety in the care of theNails, is an indispensable part of a gentleman's toilet. They should be kept of a moderate length, as well as clean and smooth. Avoid all absurd forms, and inconvenient length, in cutting them, which you will find it easiest to do neatly while they are softened by washing, and the use of the nail-brush.Properly fitted boots and shoes, together with frequent bathing, will best securethe feetfrom the torturing excrescences by which poor mortals are so often afflicted. The addition ofsaltto the foot-bath, if persevered in, will greatly protect them from the painful effects of over-walking, etc.I think that under the head of Dress, in one of my earliest letters, I expressed my opinion regarding the essentials of refinement and comfort as connected with this branch of the toilet. I will only say, in this connection, that a liberal supply of linen, hosiery, etc., should be regarded as of more importance than outside display, and that the most enlightened economy suggests the employment of the best materials, the most skillful manufacturers, and the unrestrained use of these "aids and appliances" of gentleman-like propriety, comfort, and health.The best and surest mode of securing ample and certain leisure for needful attention to the minutiæ of the toilet isEarly Rising, a habit that, in addition to the healthful influence it exerts upon the physique, collaterally, promotes the minor moralities of life in a wonderful degree, and really is one of the fundamentals of success in whatever pursuit you may be engaged. Here, again, permit me to refer you to the examples of the truly great men of history—those of our own land will suffice—Washington, Franklin, Adams, and, though inconsistent with his habits in some other respects, Webster. Of the latter, it is well known, that he did not trim the midnight lampfor purposes of professional investigation or mental labor of any kind, but rose early to such tasks, with body and mind invigorated for ready and successful exertion. I have seen few things from his powerful pen, more pleasingly written than hisEulogy upon Morning, as it may properly be called, though I don't know that to be the title of an article written by him in favor of our present theme, in which erudition and pure taste contend for supremacy with convincing argument.But to secure the full benefit ofearly rising, my young friends, you must also, establish the habit ofretiring earlyand regularly. No one dogma of medical science, perhaps, is more fully borne out by universal experience than this, that "two hours' sleep before midnight is worth all obtained afterwards." To seek repose before the system is too far over-taxed for quiet, refreshing rest, and before the brain has been aroused from the quiescence natural to the evening hours, into renewed and unhealthy action, is most consistent with the laws of health. And, depend upon it, though the elasticity of youthful constitutions may, for a time, resist the pernicious effects of a violation of these laws, the hour will assuredly come, sooner or later, to all, when thelex talioniswill be felt in resistless power. Fashion and Nature are sadly at war on this point, as I am fully aware; but the edicts of the one are immutable, those of the other are proverbially fickle.Students, especially, should regard obedience tothe wiser of the two as imperative. The mental powers, as well as the physical, demand this—the "mind's eye" as well as the organs of outward vision, will be found, by experiment, to possess the clearer and quicker discernment during those hours when, throughout the domains of Nature, all is activity, healthfulness and visible beauty. And no peculiarity of circumstance or inclination will ever make that healthful which isunnatural. Hence the wisdom ofestablishing habitsconsistent with health, while no obstacle exists to their easy acquisition. There is an experiment on record made by two generals, each at the head of an army on march, in warm weather, over the same route. The one led on his troops by day, the other chose the cooler hours for advancing, and reposed while the sun was abroad. In all other respects, their arrangements were similar. At the end of ten or twelve days, the result convincingly proved that exertion even under mid-summer heat is most healthfully made while the stimulus of solar light sustains the system, and that sleep is most refreshing and beneficial in all respects when sought while the hush and obscurity of the outer world assist repose.But if, as the nursery doggerel wisely declares,"Early to bed and early to rise,Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,"there must be united with this rational habit, others each equally important to the full advantage to be derived from all combined.Among these,Exerciseholds a prominentrank. As with the bath, this is most effectually employed for health before the system is exhausted by mental labor.Among the numerous modes of exercise, none is so completely at command at all times and under all circumstances, aswalking. But the full benefit of this exercise, is not often enjoyed by the inhabitants of cities, by reason of the impure air that is almost necessarily inhaled in connection with it. Still, it is not impossible to obviate this difficulty by a little pains. Theearly riserand therapid pedestrianmay in general, easily secure time to seek daily one of the few and limited breathing-places that, though in this regard we are vastly inferior to Europeans in taste and good sense, even our American cities supply, either, like what they indeed are,lungs, in the very centre of activity, or at no unapproachable distance from it. Do not forget that vegetation, while it sends forth noxious influencesat night, exales oxygen and other needful food for vitality,in the morning, especially; nor that an erect carriage, which alone gives unobstructed play to the organs of respiration and digestion, is requisite, together with considerable activity of movement, to secure the legitimate results of walking.Students, and others whose occupations are of a sedentary character, sometimes adopt the practice of taking a long walk periodically. This is, no doubt, promotive of health, provided it is not at first carried to an extreme. All such habits should begradually formed, and their formation commenced and pursued with due respect for physiological rules. Mr. Combe, the distinguished phrenologist—in his "Constitution of Man," I think, relates an instance of a young person, in infirm health and unaccustomed to such exertion, who undertook a walk of twenty miles, to be accomplished without interruption. The first seven or eight miles were achieved with ease and pleasure to the pedestrian, but thenceforth discomfort and final exhaustion should have been a sufficient warning to the tyro to desist from his self-appointed task. A severe illness was the consequence and punishment of his ignorant violation of physiological laws.By the way, I cannot too strongly recommend to your careful perusal the various works of Dr. Andrew Combe, long the physician of the amiable King of Belgium, in relation to that and kindred subjects. His "Physiology as applied to Mental Health," is replete with practical suggestions and advice of the most instructive and important nature, as are also his "Dietetics," etc.Himself an incurable invalid, he maintained the vital forces through many years of eminent usefulness to others, only by dint of the most strenuous adherence to the strictest requirements of the Science of the Physique. The writings of his brother, Mr. George Combe, and especially the work I have just mentioned, the "Constitution of Man," also abound in lessons of practical usefulness, which may be adopted irrespective of his peculiar phrenologicalviews. In the multitude of newer publications these admirable books are already half-forgotten, but my limited reading has afforded me no knowledge of anything superior to them, as text-books for the young.Ridinganddrivingneed no recommendation to insure their popularity, as means of exercise. Both have many pleasure and health-giving attractions.Every young man should endeavor to acquire a thorough knowledge of both riding and driving, not from a desire to emulate the ignobleachievements of a horse-jockey, but as properaccomplishmentsfor a gentleman.The possession of a fine horse is a prolific source of high and innocent enjoyment, and may often be secured by those whose purses are not taxed forcigars and wine! Nothing can be more exhilarating than the successful management of this spirited and generous animal, whether under the saddle or in harness! Even plethoric, ponderous old Dr. Johnson, admitted that "few things are so exciting as to be drawn rapidly along in a post-chaise, over a smooth road, by a fine horse!"Let me repeat, however, that young men should be content to promote health and enjoyment by the moderate, gentleman-like gratification of the pride of skill, in this respect. Like many other amusements, though entirely innocent and unexceptionable when reasonably indulged in, its abuse leads inevitably to the most debasing consequences.—Our dusty high-roads very ill supply the place ofthe extensive public Parks and gardens that furnish such agreeable places of resort for both riding and driving, as well as for pedestrians, in most of the large cities of Europe, but one may, at least, secure better air and more freedom of space by resorting to them than to the streets, for every form of exercise. And as it is a well established fact that agreeable and novel associations for both the eye and the mind are essential concomitants of beneficial exercise, we have every practical consideration united to good taste in favor of eschewing the streets whenever fate permits.
'A face with gladness overspread!Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!And seemliness complete, that swaysThy courtesies, about thee plays!'"
'A face with gladness overspread!Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!And seemliness complete, that swaysThy courtesies, about thee plays!'"
I have known few persons with as exquisite æsthetical perceptions as my lovely friend Minnie. So I promised myself great pleasure in taking her to see Cole's celebrated series of pictures—The Course of Time. It was soon after Cole's lamented death; and, as Minnie had been some time living where she was deprived of such enjoyments, she had never seen these fine pictures.
As we drove along towards the Art Union Gallery, the fair enthusiast was all eager expectation. "How often my kind friend Mr. S—— B. R——, used to talk to me of Cole," said she, "and promise me the pleasure of knowing him. When he died I felt as though I had lost a dear friend, as I had indeed, for all who worship art, have a friend in each child of genius."
"Cole was emphatically one of these," returned I, "as his conceptions alone prove."
"Yes, indeed," replied Minnie, "I always think of him as thepoet-painter, since I saw his first series—the 'Progress of Empire.' Only a poet's imagination could conceive his subjects."
I placed my sweet friend in the most favorable position for enjoying each picture in succession, and seated myself at her side, rather for the gratification of listening to the low murmurs of delight that should be breathed by her kindred soul, than to view the painter's skill, as that no longer possessed the attraction of novelty for me.
We had just come to the sublime portraiture of "Manhood," and Minnie seemed wholly absorbed in her own thoughts and imaginings. Suddenly a silly giggle broke the charmed stillness. The Devotee of the Beautiful started, as if abruptly awakened from a dream, and a slight shiver ran through her sensitive frame.
Turning, I perceived, standing close behind us, a group of young persons, chattering and laughing, and pointing to different parts of the picture before us. Their platitudes were not, perhaps, especially stupid, nor were they more noisy and rude than I have knownfree-born republicansbefore, under somewhat similar circumstances; but poor Minnie endured absolute torture; her idealized delight vanished before a coarse reality. I well remember the imploring and distressed look with which she whispered: "Let us go, dear Colonel;" and one glance at her pale face satisfied me that the spell was irrevocably broken for her, and that her long anticipated "joy," in beholding "a thing of beauty" had indeed been cruelly alloyed.
If my memory serves me aright, I told you something, in a former letter, of an interesting lady, a friend of mine, whose husband was shot all to pieces in the Mexican War, and after lying for many months in an almost hopeless condition, finally so far recovered as to be removed to the sea-board, to take ship for New Orleans. When informed of this, his beautiful young wife—a belle, a beauty, and the petted idol of a large family circle before her marriage—set out, at mid-winter, accompanied by one of her brothers and taking with her the infant-child, whom its soldier-father had never seen, to meet her husband on his homeward route. This explanation will render intelligible the following incident, which she herself related to me.
"My brother remained with us some time at New Orleans," said the fair narrator; "but, as Ernest began to improve, I entreated him to return home, as both his business and his family demanded his attention; and you know, Colonel Lunettes," she added, with a sad smile, "that asoldier's wifemust learn to be brave, for her own sake as well as for his. Ernest had with him an excellent, faithful servant, who was fully competent to such service as I could not render, and my little boy's nurse was with me, of course. So we made our homeward journey by slow stages, but with less suffering to my husband than we could have hoped, and I grew strong as soon as we were re-united, and felt adequate to anything, almost."
The fair young creature added the last word with the same mournful smile that had before flitted over her sweet face, and as if rather in reply to the doubtful expression she read in my countenance, than from any remembrance of having failed, in the slightest degree, in the task of which she spoke.
"On the night of our arrival at A——, however," pursued Mrs. V——, "we seemed to reach such a climax of fatigue and trial, as to make further endurance literally impossible for poor Ernest. Our little child had been taken ill the day before, so that I could not devote myself so entirely to him as I could have wished; and, as we drew near home, his impatience seemed to increase the pain of his wounds, so that, on this evening, he was almost exhausted both in body and mind. We stopped at the D—— House, as being nearest the depot, which was a great point with us; but such a comfortless, shiftless place!"——
"An abominable hole!" I ejaculated; "one never gets anything fit to eat there!"
"That was the least of our difficulties," returned the lady, "as we had to leave our man-servant to look after our luggage, it was with great difficulty that my poor husband was assisted up stairs into the public parlor, and he almost fainted while I gave a few hurried directions about a room. Such a scene as it was! The poor baby, weary and sleepy, began to cry for mamma, and nurse had as much as she could do with the care of him. Ernest had sunkdown upon the only sofa in the room—a huge, heavy machine of a thing, that looked as though never designed to be moved from its place against the wall. I gave my husband a restorative, but in vain. He grew so ghastly pale that"——a sob here choked the utterance of the speaker.
"My dear child," said I, taking her hand, "do not say another word; I cannot forgive myself for asking you these particulars—all is well now—do not recall the past!"
"Excuse me, dear Colonel, Iwishto tell you, I want you to know, how we were treated by a brute in human form—to ask you whether you could have believed in the existence of such a being—so utterly destitute of common politeness, not to say humanity."
"I hope no one who could aid you, in this extremity, failed to do so."
"You shall hear. Ernest was shivering with cold, as well as exhaustion, and whispered to me that he would try to sit by the fire until the room was prepared. I looked round the place for an easy-chair; there was but one, and that was occupied by a man who was staring at us, as though we were curiosities exhibited for his especial benefit."
"'Ernest,'said I aloud, 'you are too weak to sit in one of these chairs without arms, and with nothing to support your head.'
"'I will try, love,' he replied, 'for I am so cold!'
"'I will ask that man for hischair,' I whispered.Poor Ernest! his eyes flashed. 'No! No!' said he, 'if he has not the decency to offer it, you shall not speak to him!'
"Of course, I would not irritate him by opposition, but placed an ordinary chair before the fire, and, supporting him into it, held his head on my shoulder, while I chafed his benumbed hands. In the meanwhile, the wail of the baby did not help to quiet us, nor to shorten the time of waiting; and it seemed as if John would never make his appearance, nor the room I had ordered be prepared. By my direction, nurse rang the bell. I inquired of the very placid individual who answered it, whether the room was ready for us, and upon being told that they were making the fire, entreated the emblem of serenity to hasten operations, and at once to bring me a cup of hot tea. Minutes seemed hours to me, as you may suppose, and the dull eyes that were fastened upon us from the centre of the stuffed chair, I so longed for, really made me nervous. I felt as though it might be some horrid ghoul, rather than anything human, thus looking upon our misery. 'Good G——, Lu!' said Ernest, at last, 'isn't the bed ready yet?'
"I could bear it no longer. Gently withdrawing my support from the weary, weary head, I flew to my boy, snatched him from nurse, and signifying my design to her, we united our powers, and, laying baby on the sofa, we succeeded in pushing it up to the side of the fire-place. Then, while I hushed the child on my breast, we piled up our wrappings andplaced my husband upon the couch, so as to rest his poor wounded frame (you know, Colonel, his spine was injured). The groan, half of relief and half of torture, that broke from his lips, as he rested his head, was like to be the 'last straw' that broke my heart—but the soldier's wife! How often did I repeat to myself, during that long journey:
'Remember thou'rt asoldier's wife,Those tears but ill become thee!'
'Remember thou'rt asoldier's wife,Those tears but ill become thee!'
"Well! by this time, John made his appearance, and, consigning his master temporarily to his care, I took nurse with me, and went to see what a woman's ready hand could do in expediting matters elsewhere. When showed to the room we were expected to occupy, I found it so filled with smoke, and so dreadfully cold, as to be wholly uninhabitable, and in despair sent for the steward, or whoever he was, to whom I had given directions at first. No other room with two beds could be secured. By the glimmering light of the small lamp in the hand of the Irishman, who was laboring with the attempt at a fire, I investigated a little; the smouldering coals belched forth volumes of smoke into my face. Nothing daunted by this ('twas not the 'smoke of battle,' though I felt as though in the midst of a conflict of life and death), I bade the man remove the blower. Behold the draught closed by the strip of stone sometimes used for that purpose, after a hard coal fire is fully ignited! I think, Colonel, youwould have admired the laconic, imperiously cool tone and manner with which I speedily effected the removal of the entire mass of cold hard coal, substituted for it, light, dry wood, and covering up my boy, as he still rested in my arms, dissipated the smoke that contended with the close, shut-up sort of air in the room, for disagreeability, by opening the windows, had the most comfortable looking of the beds drawn near the fire, and opened to air and warm, ordered up the trunks we wanted, opened them, hung a warm flannel dressing-gown near the fire, placed his slippers and everything else Ernest would want justwherethey would be wanted, near the best chair I could secure, and the table that was to receive his supper when he should be ready for it, and, in shortput the matter through, as Ernest would say, with the speed of desperation. It was wonderful how quickly all this, and more, was effected by the people about me chiefly through my ability to tell them exactly what to do and how to do it. Excuse me if I boast; it was the deep calmness of despair that inspired me!NowI can smile at the look of blank amazement with which Paddy received my announcement of the necessity of taking out all the coals from the grate, before he could hope to kindle a fire, and the stare of theman of affairsfor the D—— House, as he entered upon the field of my efforts to say that tea was ready."
"There is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous!" I exclaimed, laughing, in spite of mysympathy with my fair friend. "And what became of the barbarian in the large chair?"
"Oh, when I returned to the parlor to have Ernest removed to our own room, there he sat, still, lolling comfortably back in his chair, with his hat on, and his feet laid up before him, and apparently as much occupied as ever in staring at the strangers, and no more
'On hospitable thoughts intent'
than when I quitted the room, the horrid ghoul! I was so rejoiced to escape with my treasures safe from his blighting gaze! But now for themoralof my story, dear Colonel, for every story has its moral, I suppose,—John, Ernest's man, told nurse, who, by the way, was so highly indignant on the occasion, as to assure me afterwards, that if she had been a man, she'd have just pitched the selfish brute beast out of the chair, and taken it for Mr. V——, without so much as a 'by your leave.'"——
I could not refrain from interrupting Mrs. —— to say that I thought I should have been sorely tempted to some such act myself, under the circumstances.
"Yes," pursued Mrs. V——, "nurse still recurs to that 'awful cold night in A——' with an invariable malediction upon the 'bad speretas kept the chair.' But, as I was saying, John told her afterwards that the ghoul asked him who that sick gentleman was, and said that his wife appeared to be in so much trouble that he should have offered to help her along a little, but hewasn't acquainted with her!"
"Uncle Hal, isn't an artista gentleman?" inquired Blanche of me one morning, during a recent visit to our great Commercial Metropolis, as the newspaper writers call it. "What do you mean, child," said I, "you cannot mean to ask whether artistsrank as gentlemenin society, for that does not admit of question." I saw there was something troubling her, the moment she came down, for she did not welcome her old uncle with her usual sparkling smile, though she snugged close up to me on the sofa, and kept my hand in both of hers, while we were arranging some matters about which I had called.
"Is not anengraveran artist?" she inquired, with increased earnestness of tone. "Does not an engraver who has a largeatelier, numbers ofemployés, and does all kinds of beautiful prints, heads, and landscapes, and elegant figures, take rank in social life with other gentlemen?"
"Certainly, my dear; but tell me what you are thinking of; what troubles you my child?"
"Well, you remember, dear uncle, perhaps, the young orphan boy in whom papa and all of us used to be so interested the summer you spent with us, long ago, when we were all children at home. He is now established in this city, after years of struggle with difficulties that would have crushed a less noble spirit, and his sisters, for whom he has always provided, in a great degree, though at the cost of almost incredible self-denial, as I happen to know, are now nearly prepared for teachers. We havealways retained our interest in them all; and they always make us a visit when they are at D——. Indeed, papa always says he knows few young men for whom he entertains so high a regard; and I am sure he is very good-looking, and though he may not be very fashionable,—you needn't smile, uncle Hal, I"——
"My dear, I am charmed with your sketch, and shall go, at once, and have my old visage engraved by your handsome artist-friend; and when I publish my auto-biography, it shall be accompanied by a 'portrait of the author,' superbly engraved by a 'celebrated artist.'"
"Heiscelebrated, uncle, really; you have no idea of the vast number of orders he has from all parts of the country, nor how beautifully he gets up everything. But I must tell you," proceeded the sensitive little thing, with more cheerfulness, for I had succeeded in my design of cheering her up a little—"Mr. Zousky—Henry, as we always call him, has been engraving the head of one of our friends at home for a literary affair—some biographical book, or something of that sort, and he came up to show me one of the 'first impressions,' as I think he calls them, and to bring a message from his sister, last evening—wishing me to 'criticise,' he told me, as he had nothing but rather an indifferent daguerreotype to copy from. It was just before tea that he called—because he is busy all day, I suppose, and perhaps, he thought he should be sure of finding me, then. Indeed, he said something about fearing to intrude later, when there might be other visitors—he is the most sensitive and unobtrusive being! Well, just as we were having a nice little chat about old times at D——, cousin Charles came home and came into the parlor. Of course, he knows Henry very well, for he has seen him often and often at our house, when he used to be there in vacations with my brothers; and, indeed, once before Henry came here to live, was one of a party of us, who went to his little studio, to see his self-taught paintings and sketches. When he entered the room, I said, 'cousin Charles, our friend Mr. Zousky does not need an introduction to you, I am sure.' I cannot describe his manner. I did not so much mind its being cold and indifferent, but it was not that ofan equal—of one gentleman to another, and without sitting down, even for a moment, he walked back to the dining-room, and I heard him ask the servant whether tea was ready. Henry rose in a moment, and took my hand to say good-bye—oh, uncle, I cannot tell you how hurt I was! His voice was as low and gentle as ever, but his face betrayed him! I know he noticed cousin Charles' manner. I was determined that he should not go away so; so I didn't get up, but drew him to a seat by me on the sofa, and said that he must not go yet, unless he had an engagement, for that I had not half done telling him what I wished, and rattled on, hardly knowing what Ididsay, for I was so grieved and mortified. He said he would come again, as it was my tea-time, but I insisted that my tea was of no consequence, and that I much preferred talking to afriend—all the while hoping that either cousin Maria or cousin Charles would come and invite him to take tea. Presently I heard cousin Maria come down, and then the glass doors were closed between the rooms, and I knew they were at tea. Why, uncle Hal, papa would no more have done such a thing inhishouse, than he would have robbed some one! What! wound the feelings of any one for fear of not being 'genteel!' that's the word, I suppose—I hear cousin Maria use it very often! We were always taught by dear mamma, while she lived, to be particularly polite and attentive to those who might not be as happy or prosperous as ourselves. She used to say that fashionable and distinguished people were the least likely to observe those things, but that the sensitive and self-distrustful were apt to be almost morbidly alive to every indication of neglect. 'Never brush rudely by the human sensitive plant, my dears,' she used to say, 'lest you should bruise the tender leaves; and never forget that it most needs thesunshine of smiles!' Dear mamma! she used to be so polite to Henry—notpatronizing, but so friendly, so considerate—always she put him at ease when there was other company at our house (though he never came in when he knew there were other visitors), and she used to do so many kind things to assist his first efforts in his art! I only hope he understood thatIhave no rights here. I am sure Ifeelthat I have not! But I would rather be treated a hundred times over again as I was last night, myself, than tohave Henry's feelings wounded; still, I must say that I should not think, because she happened to be detained past the exact tea-hour, of sending away the tea-things and keeping cold slops in a pitcher for any guest inmyhouse, if I had one"——
"Hush, Blanche! I never heard you talk so indiscreetly before!"
"Well, I don't care! Papamademe come here to stay, because he said they had visited us, and came out to Bel's wedding, and all; but I do so wish I was at the St. Nicholas with you and the Clarks, uncle, dear! Cousin Charles ain't like himself since he married his fashionable New York wife; even when he comes to pa's he isn't, thoughtherehe throws off his cold, ceremonious manner somewhat. But I really feel as if I was in a straight-jacket here!"
"Why, Blanche, what's the trouble? I am sure everything is very elegant and fashionable here!"
"Yes, too elegant and fashionable for poor little me! I am not used to that, and don't care for it. I'd rather have a little more friendliness and sociability than all the splendor. I am constantly reminded of my utter insignificance; and you know, uncle, poor Blanche is spoiled, as you often say, and not used to being reduced to a mere nonentity!"
With this the silly child actually began to cry, and when I tried to soothe her, only sobbed out, in broken words: "I wouldn't be such a goose as to mind it, if Henry Zousky had not been treated so so, so—so—fash-ion-a-bly!"
Looking over some letters from a sprightly correspondent of mine, the other day, I laid aside one from which I make the following extract, as apposite to my subject:
"You asked me to give you some account of the social position, etc., and an idea of the husband of your former favorite, M—— S——. 'What is Dr. J—— like?' you inquire:—Like nothing in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, I answer; and, therefore, he might be worshipped without a violation of the injunction of the Decalogue! How such a vivacious creature as M—— S—— came to tie herself for life to such a mule, passes my powers of solution. Dr. J—— is very accomplished in his profession, for a young man, I hear, and much respected for his professional capacity—but socially he is—nothing!—the merest cipher conceivable! A man may bevery quietat home, now-a-days, and yet pass muster; but there are times when hemust act, as it seems to me; but M——'s husband seems to be aman of one idea, and that never, seemingly, suggests the duties of host. But you shall judge for yourself.—While I was in A——, we were all invited there one evening, to meet a bride, an old friend of M——'s, stopping in town on her marriage tour. M—— said it was too early in the season for a large party, and that we were expected quiteen famille; but it was, in reality, quite an occasion, nevertheless, as the bride and her party were fashionable Bostonians. I happened to be near the hostess, whentheguestsof the evening entered. She received them with her usualFrenchyease and playfulness of manner, and it seemed that the gentleman was an old friend of hers, but did not know her husband. He expressed the hope that Dr. J——'s professional duties would not deprive them of his society the whole evening, as he much desired the pleasure of his acquaintance. I saw, by the heightening of her color, that M——, woman of the world though she be, felt the unintended sarcasm of this polite language; for Dr. J. was calmly ensconced in the deep recess of a largefauteuilin the corner of the fire-place, apparently enjoying the glowing coal-fire that always adds its cheerful influence to the elegant belongings of M——'s splendid drawing-room. Throughout the entire evening our effigy of a host kept his post, where we found him on entering. People went to him, chatted a while, and moved away; we danced, refreshments were served, wine was quaffed,
'All went merry as a marriage bell;'
M—— glided about from group to group, with an appropriate word, or courteous attention for each one, and, in addition to the flowers that adorned the rooms, presented the bride of her old friend with an exquisite bouquet, saying, in her pretty way, that she would have been delighted to receive her in a bower of roses, when she learned from Mr. —— how much she liked flowers, but that Flora was in a pet with her since she had given up her old conservatoryat her father's. As the evening waned, I observed her weariness, despite the hospitable smile; and well she might be! Several times she slipped away to her babe; once, when I stood near her, she started slightly:'I thought I heard anursery-cry,' she whispered to me,'my little boy is not wellto-night;' and I missed her soon after. When I went away, I, of course, sought the master of the house to say good-night. He half rose, with a half smile, in recognition of my adieu, and re-settled himself, apparently wholly unconscious of any possible occasion for further effort! But the climax, in true epic style, was reserved for thefinale. It was a frightfully stormy night, and when we came down to the street door to go away, there stood M——, in her thin dress, the cold wind and sleet-rain rushing in when the door was opened, enough to carry away her fairy figure,seeing off her friend and his bride!"
"My dear Miss C——," exclaimed a gentleman after listening to the complaint of a lady who had just been charging the lords of creation with the habitual discourtesy of retaining their hats when speaking to ladies, in stores and shops, as well as in public halls and even in the drawing-room; "My dear Miss C——, don't you know that 'Young America'always wears his hat and boots whenever he can?"
"Does hesleep in them?" inquired the lady.
"Well, my dears," I overheard a high-bred and exceedingly handsome man inquiring of two lovely English girls, on board a steamer the other day, "how did you succeed in your efforts to dine to-day? I will not again permit you to be separated from your aunt and me, if we find the table ever so crowded."
"But we had Charley, you know, sir," returned one of the fair interlocutors, with a smile worthy of Hebe herself.
"True, but Charley is only a child; and boys as well as women fare ill at public tables in this 'land of liberty and equality,' unless aided by some powerful assistant!"
"I thought we had found such a champion to-day," exclaimed the other lady, "in the person who sat next me at dinner. His hands were so nice that I should not have objected in the least to his offering me such dishes as were within his reach, especially as there seemed to be no servant to attend us, and we really sat half through the first course without bread or water. Having nothing else to do, for some time, I quietly amused myself with observing my courteous neighbor. So wholly absorbed did he seem in his own contemplations, so utterly oblivious of everything around him, except the contents of his heaped-up plate, that I soon became convinced that I had the honor to be in close proximity to a philosopher, at least, andprobably to some fixed star in the realms of science!"
"Oh, Clare! I am so sorry to tell you, but I learned afterwards, accidentally, that your profound-looking neighbor is—a dentist!"
"And, therefore, accustomed only to themost painful associations with the mouths of others!" chimed in the aristocrat, laughing in chorus: "Well, as our shrewd, sensible friend, the daughter of the Siddons, used to say, after her return from America, 'if the Americans profess to be allequal, they should beequally well bred!'"
With a repetition of this doubly sarcastic apothegm, my dear friends, for the present,
Adieu!Harry Lunettes.
HEALTH, THE TOILET, ETC.
My dear Nephews:
Sinceno man can fulfill his destiny as an actively-useful member of society withoutHealth, perhaps a few practical suggestions on this important subject may not be inconsistent with our present purpose.
The only reliable foundation upon which to base the hope of securing permanent possession of this greatest of earthly blessings, is the early acquisition ofHabits of Temperance.
In a proper sense of the word, Temperance is an all-inclusive term—it does not mean abstaining from strong drink, only, nor from over-eating, nor from any one form of self-indulgence or dissipation; but it requiresmoderation in all things, for its full illustration.
It was this apprehension of the term that was truthfully exhibited in the long, useful, consistent life of our distinguished countryman, John Quincy Adams. Habits formed in boyhood, in strict accordance with this principle, and adhered to in every varying phase of circumstance throughout his prolonged existence, were the proximate cause of his successful and admirable career. And what a career! How triumphantly successful, how worthy of admiration! More than half a century did he serve his country, at home and abroad, dying at last, with his armor on,—a watchman, faithful, even unto death, upon the ramparts of the Citadel, where Justice, Truth, and Freedom have found a last asylum. Think you that the intellectual and moral purposes of his being could have been borne out by the most resolute exercise of will, but for the judicious training of thephysique? Or could the higher attributes of his nature have been developed, indeed, in conjunction with a body 'cabined, cribbed and confined' by the enervating influence of youthful self-indulgence? Born on—
"Stern New-England's rocky shore,"
no misnamed luxury shrouded his frame from the discipline of that Teacher, "around whose steps the mountain breezes blow, and from whose countenance all the virtues gather strength." You are, doubtless, all familiar with Mr. Adams' habits of early rising, bathing, etc. The latter, even, he maintained until within two years of his death, bathing in an open stream each morning, if his locality permitted the enjoyment, at a very early hour. I have his own authority for the fact that he, during the different periods of his public sojourn abroad, laved hisvigorous frame in almost every river of Europe! Franklin, too, ascribed his triumph over the obstacles that obstructed his early path to a strict adherence to the rules of Temperance. And so, indeed, with most of the truly great men whose names illumine the pages of our country's history:—I might multiply examples almostad infinitum, but your own reading will enable you to endorse the correctness of my assertion.
Since we have, incidentally, alluded to theBath, in connection with the example of Mr. Adams, let us commence the consideration of personal habits, with this agreeable and essential accessory of Health.
Though authorities may differ respecting some minor details with regard to bathing, I believe medical testimony all goes to sanction its adoption by all persons, in some one of its modifications. Constitutional peculiarities should always be consulted in the establishment of individual rules,—hence no general directions can be made applicable to all persons. The cold bath, though that most frequently adopted by persons in health, is, no doubt, injurious in some cases, and careful observation alone can enable each individual to establish the precise temperature at which his ablutions will be most beneficial.
But, while the most scrupulous and unvarying regard for cleanliness should be considered of primary importance, the indiscreet use of the bath should be avoided with equal care. Bishop Heber, one of the best and most useful of men, sacrificedhimself in the midst of a career of eminent piety, to an imprudent use of this luxury, arising either from ignorance or inadvertency. After rising very early to baptize several native converts recently made in India, the field of his labors, he returned to his bungalow in a state of exhaustion from excitement and abstinence, and, without taking any nourishment, threw himself into a bath, and soon after expired!—No one can safely resort to the bath when the bodily powers are much weakened, by whatever cause; and though it is unwise to use it directly after taking a full meal, it should not immediately precede the chief meal of the day, if that be taken at a late hour, and after prolonged abstinence and exertion.
Theart of swimmingearly acquired, affords the most agreeable and beneficial mode of bathing, not to dwell upon its numerous recommendations in other respects; but when this enjoyment cannot be secured, nor even the luxury of an immersion bath, luckily for health, comfort, and propriety, the means ofsponge bathingmay always be secured, at least in this country (wherever it has risen above barbarism), though I must say that frequently during my travels in England, and even through towns boasting good hotels, I found water and towels at a high premium, and very difficult of acquisition at that! Sponging the whole person upon rising, either in cold or tepid water, as individual experience proves best, with the use of the Turkish towel, or some similar mode of friction, is one of the best preparations for a day of useful exertion.
This practice has collateral advantages, inasmuch as it naturally leads to attention to all the details of the toilet essentially connected with refinement and health—to proper care of the Hair, Teeth, Nails, etc.,—in short, to a neat and suitable arrangement of the dress before leaving one's apartment in the morning. To slippered age belongs the indulgence of a careless morning toilet; but with the morning of life we properly associate readiness for action in some pursuit demanding steady and prolonged exertion, early begun, and with every faculty and attribute in full exercise.
Fashion sanctions so many varying modes of wearing or not wearing thehair, that no directions can be given in relation to it, except such as enjoin the avoidance of all fantastic dressing, and the observance of entire neatness with relation to it. Careful brushing, together with occasional ablutions, will best preserve this natural ornament; and I would, also, suggest the use of suchpomadesonly as are most delicately scented. No gentleman should go about like a walking perfumer's shop, redolent, not of—
"Sabean odors from the spicy shoresOf Araby the Blest,"
"Sabean odors from the spicy shoresOf Araby the Blest,"
but of spirits of turpentine, musk, etc., 'commixed and commingled' in 'confusion worse confounded' to all persons possessed of a nicety of nervous organization. All perfumes for the handkerchiefs, or worn about the person, should be, not only of the most unexceptionable kind, but used in very moderatequantities. Their profuse use will ill supply the neglect of the bath, or of the proper care of the teeth and general toilet.
TheTeethcannot be too carefully attended to by those who value good looks, as well as health. And nothing tends more towards their preservation than the habitual use of the brush, before retiring, as well as in the morning. The use of some simple uninjurious adjunct to the brush may be well; but pure water and the brush, faithfully applied, will secure cleanliness—the great preservative of these essential concomitants of manly beauty. If you use tobacco—(and I fervently hope none of you who have not the habit will ever allow yourselves to acquire it!)—but if you are, unfortunately, enslaved by the habit, never omit to rinse the mouth thoroughly after smoking (I will not admit the possibility, that anyyoung man, in this age of progressive refinement, is addicted to habitualchewing), and never substitute the use of a strong odor for this proper observance, especially when going into the society of ladies. Smoke dispellers must yield the palm to the purifying effects of the unadulterated element, after all.
The utmost nicety in the care of theNails, is an indispensable part of a gentleman's toilet. They should be kept of a moderate length, as well as clean and smooth. Avoid all absurd forms, and inconvenient length, in cutting them, which you will find it easiest to do neatly while they are softened by washing, and the use of the nail-brush.
Properly fitted boots and shoes, together with frequent bathing, will best securethe feetfrom the torturing excrescences by which poor mortals are so often afflicted. The addition ofsaltto the foot-bath, if persevered in, will greatly protect them from the painful effects of over-walking, etc.
I think that under the head of Dress, in one of my earliest letters, I expressed my opinion regarding the essentials of refinement and comfort as connected with this branch of the toilet. I will only say, in this connection, that a liberal supply of linen, hosiery, etc., should be regarded as of more importance than outside display, and that the most enlightened economy suggests the employment of the best materials, the most skillful manufacturers, and the unrestrained use of these "aids and appliances" of gentleman-like propriety, comfort, and health.
The best and surest mode of securing ample and certain leisure for needful attention to the minutiæ of the toilet isEarly Rising, a habit that, in addition to the healthful influence it exerts upon the physique, collaterally, promotes the minor moralities of life in a wonderful degree, and really is one of the fundamentals of success in whatever pursuit you may be engaged. Here, again, permit me to refer you to the examples of the truly great men of history—those of our own land will suffice—Washington, Franklin, Adams, and, though inconsistent with his habits in some other respects, Webster. Of the latter, it is well known, that he did not trim the midnight lampfor purposes of professional investigation or mental labor of any kind, but rose early to such tasks, with body and mind invigorated for ready and successful exertion. I have seen few things from his powerful pen, more pleasingly written than hisEulogy upon Morning, as it may properly be called, though I don't know that to be the title of an article written by him in favor of our present theme, in which erudition and pure taste contend for supremacy with convincing argument.
But to secure the full benefit ofearly rising, my young friends, you must also, establish the habit ofretiring earlyand regularly. No one dogma of medical science, perhaps, is more fully borne out by universal experience than this, that "two hours' sleep before midnight is worth all obtained afterwards." To seek repose before the system is too far over-taxed for quiet, refreshing rest, and before the brain has been aroused from the quiescence natural to the evening hours, into renewed and unhealthy action, is most consistent with the laws of health. And, depend upon it, though the elasticity of youthful constitutions may, for a time, resist the pernicious effects of a violation of these laws, the hour will assuredly come, sooner or later, to all, when thelex talioniswill be felt in resistless power. Fashion and Nature are sadly at war on this point, as I am fully aware; but the edicts of the one are immutable, those of the other are proverbially fickle.
Students, especially, should regard obedience tothe wiser of the two as imperative. The mental powers, as well as the physical, demand this—the "mind's eye" as well as the organs of outward vision, will be found, by experiment, to possess the clearer and quicker discernment during those hours when, throughout the domains of Nature, all is activity, healthfulness and visible beauty. And no peculiarity of circumstance or inclination will ever make that healthful which isunnatural. Hence the wisdom ofestablishing habitsconsistent with health, while no obstacle exists to their easy acquisition. There is an experiment on record made by two generals, each at the head of an army on march, in warm weather, over the same route. The one led on his troops by day, the other chose the cooler hours for advancing, and reposed while the sun was abroad. In all other respects, their arrangements were similar. At the end of ten or twelve days, the result convincingly proved that exertion even under mid-summer heat is most healthfully made while the stimulus of solar light sustains the system, and that sleep is most refreshing and beneficial in all respects when sought while the hush and obscurity of the outer world assist repose.
But if, as the nursery doggerel wisely declares,
"Early to bed and early to rise,Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,"
"Early to bed and early to rise,Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,"
there must be united with this rational habit, others each equally important to the full advantage to be derived from all combined.
Among these,Exerciseholds a prominentrank. As with the bath, this is most effectually employed for health before the system is exhausted by mental labor.
Among the numerous modes of exercise, none is so completely at command at all times and under all circumstances, aswalking. But the full benefit of this exercise, is not often enjoyed by the inhabitants of cities, by reason of the impure air that is almost necessarily inhaled in connection with it. Still, it is not impossible to obviate this difficulty by a little pains. Theearly riserand therapid pedestrianmay in general, easily secure time to seek daily one of the few and limited breathing-places that, though in this regard we are vastly inferior to Europeans in taste and good sense, even our American cities supply, either, like what they indeed are,lungs, in the very centre of activity, or at no unapproachable distance from it. Do not forget that vegetation, while it sends forth noxious influencesat night, exales oxygen and other needful food for vitality,in the morning, especially; nor that an erect carriage, which alone gives unobstructed play to the organs of respiration and digestion, is requisite, together with considerable activity of movement, to secure the legitimate results of walking.
Students, and others whose occupations are of a sedentary character, sometimes adopt the practice of taking a long walk periodically. This is, no doubt, promotive of health, provided it is not at first carried to an extreme. All such habits should begradually formed, and their formation commenced and pursued with due respect for physiological rules. Mr. Combe, the distinguished phrenologist—in his "Constitution of Man," I think, relates an instance of a young person, in infirm health and unaccustomed to such exertion, who undertook a walk of twenty miles, to be accomplished without interruption. The first seven or eight miles were achieved with ease and pleasure to the pedestrian, but thenceforth discomfort and final exhaustion should have been a sufficient warning to the tyro to desist from his self-appointed task. A severe illness was the consequence and punishment of his ignorant violation of physiological laws.
By the way, I cannot too strongly recommend to your careful perusal the various works of Dr. Andrew Combe, long the physician of the amiable King of Belgium, in relation to that and kindred subjects. His "Physiology as applied to Mental Health," is replete with practical suggestions and advice of the most instructive and important nature, as are also his "Dietetics," etc.
Himself an incurable invalid, he maintained the vital forces through many years of eminent usefulness to others, only by dint of the most strenuous adherence to the strictest requirements of the Science of the Physique. The writings of his brother, Mr. George Combe, and especially the work I have just mentioned, the "Constitution of Man," also abound in lessons of practical usefulness, which may be adopted irrespective of his peculiar phrenologicalviews. In the multitude of newer publications these admirable books are already half-forgotten, but my limited reading has afforded me no knowledge of anything superior to them, as text-books for the young.
Ridinganddrivingneed no recommendation to insure their popularity, as means of exercise. Both have many pleasure and health-giving attractions.
Every young man should endeavor to acquire a thorough knowledge of both riding and driving, not from a desire to emulate the ignobleachievements of a horse-jockey, but as properaccomplishmentsfor a gentleman.
The possession of a fine horse is a prolific source of high and innocent enjoyment, and may often be secured by those whose purses are not taxed forcigars and wine! Nothing can be more exhilarating than the successful management of this spirited and generous animal, whether under the saddle or in harness! Even plethoric, ponderous old Dr. Johnson, admitted that "few things are so exciting as to be drawn rapidly along in a post-chaise, over a smooth road, by a fine horse!"
Let me repeat, however, that young men should be content to promote health and enjoyment by the moderate, gentleman-like gratification of the pride of skill, in this respect. Like many other amusements, though entirely innocent and unexceptionable when reasonably indulged in, its abuse leads inevitably to the most debasing consequences.—Our dusty high-roads very ill supply the place ofthe extensive public Parks and gardens that furnish such agreeable places of resort for both riding and driving, as well as for pedestrians, in most of the large cities of Europe, but one may, at least, secure better air and more freedom of space by resorting to them than to the streets, for every form of exercise. And as it is a well established fact that agreeable and novel associations for both the eye and the mind are essential concomitants of beneficial exercise, we have every practical consideration united to good taste in favor of eschewing the streets whenever fate permits.