The Wise Woman and the Foolish Woman
By Ina Wright Hanson
THE wise woman springs out of bed in her well-ventilated room, and takes a cold plunge and a few exercises. As she dresses, she reviews the duties of the day before her. “So many pleasant things to be done,” she says, while her eyes sparkle, and her cheeks glow with perfect health. The foolish woman, hollow eyed and sallow skinned, crawls out of bed. Her windows have been closed all night, for “night air is poisonous, you know.” She bathes her face and hands in warm water,— she never takes a cold bath, for her system couldn’t stand the shock,— and as she dresses, she sighs, “O, the weary round of household cares!” The wise woman, if she happens not to be hungry, eats no breakfast, even though she prepares it for her family. The foolish woman is not hungry, and a disagreeable taste in her mouth ought to warn her that her stomach is not ready for food; but she “must eat to keep up her strength,” and what she half masticates, is washed down with strong, hot coffee. The wise woman goes about her work with a song in her heart, and the household machinery moves smoothly. She laughs as she sits down to the noon meal. “ ‘Hunger is the best sauce.’ I don’t have to tempt my appetite with delicacies.” Then she proceeds to eat slowly, and drink—nothing. The foolish woman was hungry when she began dinner, but “the smell of the cooking took away her appetite.” She wishes she could have a change of air, maybe it would make her feel better. Baby has been so cross, and “she is that nervous that she is ready to fly away with herself,” and all the time she is eating, eating, drinking, drinking. When the wise woman’s husband comes home at night, he is greeted by a cheerful wife. She has no tales to tell of annoyances, although she may have experienced some. Her mind dwells upon pleasant things, that she may attract to herself good and not evil. The children bubble over with good nature and fun. They are encouraged to talk of the day’s happiness, while their attention is deftly drawn away from unpleasant occurrences. The foolish woman’s husband comes home to racked nerves, scowls, complainings, perhaps tears. The children have caught the mother’s spirit, and they relate the partiality of the teacher, the impossibility of their tasks, and the misbehavior of their schoolmates. The heart of the wise woman’s husband “doth safely trust in her . . . Strength and honor are her clothing;” and she shall not only “rejoice in time to come,” but her joy is ever present. The foolish woman is small comfort to herself, or to those around her. But there is light ahead. The former class are receiving daily re-enforcements. Women all over this broad land are learning how to live; are choosing between beauty and ugliness, health and sickness, and are choosing wisely. Dumb-bells and cold baths are replacing drugs and potions. Shall we not all be wise, and not foolish?—Good Health.