Stray Thoughts for Girls | Page 7

the mark of a sensitive, high-bred,
refined nature to be unable to conquer fads, and fancies, and fears. You

hear them say, with an air of modest pride, "I _can't_ eat this or that;"
"I _can't_ touch spiders:" very likely they suffer if they do, and I do not
see that they need be always forcing themselves to do it, but they
should feel the power to do it _if need be_; if you are not master of
yourself, there is bad blood about you somewhere; noblesse oblige
applies preeminently to such things.
And I think noblesse oblige ought to teach us another lesson in this
matter of work. So many often say, or feel, "It's not my duty to do this
or that; why should I? it's just as much her business,--why shouldn't she
do the dirty work?" The true lady says, "Somebody must do the dirty
work, and why not I as well as another?" And so she worketh willingly
with her hands; for "common household service" is
"The wageless work of Paradise."
"She bringeth her food from afar." She is foreseeing and businesslike:
she is not obliged to get inferior articles because she is driven at the last
moment and cannot send to the best shop; she is never unable to match
her dress because she has not thought about new gloves till the very
afternoon that she wants them; she does not forget till half-past six that
dinner has not been ordered, and then, in despair, order in ready-cooked
things from a shop.
"She riseth while it is yet night." Early rising is a great trial to some, but
I think those who are conscientious often make a mistake between sloth
and conscientious care of health: and the Virtuous Woman should be
very careful of her health. Some girls think it fine not to be; they say,
"Oh, well, I shall only die the sooner! Better to wear out than rust out!"
and they feel--and so do some of their friends--that they are very noble
characters, and accordingly these tragedy queens stalk picturesquely
through wet grass when they could quite well keep on the gravel. I
hope none of you will develop into tragic heroines. I have no patience
when I see girls with perfectly prosperous lives inventing tragedies for
themselves. They have no right "to take in vain the sacred name of
grief." If there is nothing else to romance about, they fall back on being
"misunderstood," which generally means that their mother understands
them a great deal too well to please them. I dare say you will not see

this in yourselves or in your friends, but it will strike you very much in
your acquaintances, and you will, in time, recognize your own share of
human nature, for we all do, undoubtedly, enjoy being sorry for
ourselves, though I suspect life is much happier for all of us than we
deserve.
But to return to the question of health. If you could go out like the
flame of a candle, well and good! the world would probably be well rid
of you if you were going through life tragically, longing for death, but
you will not "wear out" in consequence of carelessness about wet feet
and want of sleep, and over-fatigue, and fancifulness about eating.
These things destroy, not your life, but your nerves and temper, and all
that makes your life a comfort to others; "wearing out" yourself means
that you will wear out others, and require from them much time and
nursing and good temper.
Now, sleep is a most important consideration in such a nervous
generation as ours: every woman ought to have eight hours' sleep, and
more if she needs it, but she should not wake up and then go to sleep
again; that second sleep, which is so pleasant, is the sleep of the
sluggard. I would like to give her "a chamber deaf to noise and blind to
light," and never let her be woke, but she should get up the moment she
wakes of her own accord, or, at most, spend ten minutes in the process
of waking.
"She planteth a vineyard." I should like my Virtuous Woman to be fond
of gardening, and at all events read in Bacon's Essays how God
Almighty first planted a garden.
"She strengthened her arms." This verse makes us fancy the Virtuous
Woman as being unpleasingly strong, but we should guard against
being purposely weak, with an idea of its being pleasing; Thackeray's
Amelia is hardly a good model, and Patient Grizzel did her husband an
infinity of harm!
"Her candle goeth not out by night." But the Virtuous Woman must be
self-denying in the matter of sitting up, now that modern life makes so
many more demands upon her brain.