Futility of the question whether woman is or is not inferior to man. Conversation as a means of improvement. Taciturnity and loquacity. Seven rules in regard to conversation. Reading another means of mental progress. Thoughts on a perverted taste. Choosing the evil and refusing the good. Advice of parents, teachers, ministers, &c. Advice of a choice friend. Young people reluctant to be advised. Set hours for reading. Reading too much. Reading but a species of talking. Composition. Common mistakes about composing. Attempt to set the matter right. Journalizing. How a journal should be kept. Music. Vocal music something more than a mere accomplishment. Lectures and concerts. Studies. Keys of knowledge.

Much has been said, incidentally, in the preceding chapters, of the importance of extended intellectual improvement. Besides, I have treated at large on this subject in another volume, [Footnote: See the Young Wife, chap. xxxiii. p. 292.] to which, as scarcely less adapted to the condition of young women than that of young wives, I must refer the reader. What I have to say in this work, will be little more than an introduction to the views there presented.

The long agitated question, whether woman is or is not equal to man in capacity for intellectual improvement, need not, surely, be discussed in this place. It is sufficient, perhaps, to know, that every young woman is capable of a much higher degree of improvement than she has yet attained, and to urge her forward to do all she can for herself, and to do it with all her might.

I have already mentioned, in preceding chapters, several sources of improvement—especially observation and reflection. But there are many sources of instruction accessible to those who are willing to be instructed; both external and internal. Some of these will now be made the subjects of a few passing remarks.

1. Conversation.—It is seldom, if ever, that we meet with an individual of either sex, whose conversational powers have been properly directed. To develope, cultivate and perfect these powers; seems hardly to be regarded as a part of education. We have left the tongue, like the rest of the frame to which it is attached, and of which it forms a component part, to go very much at random. In some, to be sure, it goes quite fast enough, and continues on the wing quite long enough; but it is too apt to go without rule, measure or profit—that is, comparatively so.

Now, to teach the tongue to go as it should—to teach it how to go, and how long, and when and where to make use of its power—is not, by any means, a small matter, or a very easy task. But ought not all this, and much more, to be done?

The old notion, that taciturnity is wisdom, is now very generally believed to be unfounded. These North American Indians who are most remarkable for this trait of character, are not found to be a whit wiser than other tribes who are more loquacious.

And what is found by observation to be true of nations or tribes, is equally true of individuals. One of the most taciturn persons I ever knew, and who passed with many for a very wise man, because he was very silent and grave, turned out, on a more intimate acquaintance, to be silent because he had nothing of importance to say.

Nor is loquacity uniformly a mark of wisdom. Some, indeed, talk a great deal, because they have a great deal to say: you will find a few such in a thousand. Others talk incessantly, either because they have nothing else to do, or will do nothing else. They do not, indeed, talk sense, or produce ideas; for sense and ideas they have not. At least, their sense is not common or sound sense: and as for their ideas, they are all superficial or borrowed.

Immense is the good which may be done in society, by conversation. There is hardly an art or a science, the elements of which, to say the least, may not be inculcated orally; that is, by conversation. But it is not necessary that our conversation, in order to be useful, should always be very scientific. There are a thousand topics of interest that have never yet been dignified with the name of science, which might yet be discussed in our familiar circles to a very great extent, and with both profit and pleasure.

When our conversation takes the form of story-telling, it is of still more absorbing interest, than when it is confined to mere ordinary colloquy. Here, again, a vast field of improvement opens upon our view. Few acquirements are more valuable to a young woman who expects ever to be at the head of a school or a family, than the art of relating a story well; and yet, owing to the neglect of this matter in education, no art, perhaps, is more uncommon.

A few leading principles, duly attended to, will, it is believed, enable those who have already had some teaching on this subject, to turn their conversation to better advantage; as well as aid, in the work of reformation, those who have not been duly instructed.

1. We should enunciate correctly, and speak distinctly. Few persons do this; and hence much of the pleasure which might otherwise be had, is lost.

2. We should endeavor, as far as in us lies, to speak with grammatical correctness. The custom of having two sorts of language—one for composition and the other for conversation—appears to me to have a very ill tendency. I would have no one converse in a language he does not understand; but I would have every one converse correctly.

3. We should endeavor to select such topics as are not only profitable to one party—either ourselves or those with whom we are conversing—but such also as are likely to be acceptable. It is of little use to force a topic, however great, in our judgment, may be its importance.

4. Conversation should be direct—though not confined too long to one point or topic. But while one subject is up, you should know how to keep it up; or if the thoughts of either party wander, you should know how to return to it, without too much apparent effort.

5. Conversation, like every thing else under the sun, should have its time and place. It is as wrong to converse when we ought to read, or study, or labor, or play, as it is to read or play when we ought to converse. Social life has a great many vacancies, as it were, which good, and sprightly, and well chosen conversation should fill up.

6. Conversation should be sprightly. If we converse not in this way, we might almost as well dispense with conversation entirely. We might nearly as well resort to the dead for society;—to the dead, I mean, who speak to us through the medium of their works. Of course I refer to conversation in general.

7. We should remember our responsibilities. "For every idle word that men speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment"—said He who is to preside at the dread tribunal of which he spake: and an apostle has told us, that "our conversation should be in heaven;" that is, as I understand it, should be heavenly in its nature.

II. Reading.—There are, as I suppose, few young women of the present day, who do not read more or less; and to whom reading is not, in a greater or less degree, a source of intellectual improvement. Their reading is, however, governed chiefly by whim, or fancy, or accident—or at most, by taste. Some read newspapers only; some read only novels; some read every thing, and therefore nothing: Each of these methods—if methods they can be called—is wrong.

But shall not a young woman be governed by her taste? Is that to be turned wholly out of doors?

My reply is, that though our taste is not to be turned out of doors, wholly, it is, nevertheless, a very imperfect guide, and needs correction. Our intellect, like our moral and physical likes and dislikes, is, as I have elsewhere said, perverted by the fall. I will not say that our moral, intellectual and physical tastes are perverted in an equal degree; for I do not think so. Still there is a perversion, greater or less, of the whole man—in all his functions, faculties and affections. As a general rule, when left to our own course, we choose that food, for body, mind and soul, which, though it may be pleasant at first, is bitter afterwards. "There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof is death."

Still it may be said—If our intellectual tastes are perverted, how are they to be set right? Why not, I ask, in the same way that our moral taste is—by the word and truth of God? "To the law and to the testimony."

The application of the doctrines I am now advocating, belongs, most properly, to parents and teachers; religious teachers, especially. Parents, aided by ministers of the gospel, and perhaps the family physician, should decide for the young, individually, what means of intellectual improvement are best for them, all things considered; what books, society, studies, &c. But I must confine my remarks to books and reading.

It is not difficult to decide what the tastes of a child shall be, in regard to reading. I will not, indeed, say that a parent may at once do every thing she desires; but she may do a great deal. The child's moral and intellectual tastes are about as fully at her command, as its physical ones; and who shall say that her power to the latter respect, is second to any but that of the Creator?

It is not for parents, however, that I am now writing; but for those whose taste, by the aid or neglect of parents, is already formed. If formed on the basis of the word and truth of God—if they are inclined to prefer the best books and reject the worst—then all is well but if not, then the work of self-education is, in this respect, to set that right which has hitherto been wrong.

Hardly any thing can be of greater importance in this matter, than the assistance of a friend, in whom we can confide, in making our selection. This is as necessary in regard to newspapers, as to books. She who reads newspapers, indiscriminately, will derive little benefit from them; as her head will be filled with such a mixture of truth and falsehood, and wisdom and folly, as will be likely to do her more harm than good.

Few will read to advantage, who have not their set hours for reading. It is true, that unforeseen circumstances may, at times, break in upon our arrangement, and impede our progress in knowledge; but if we have no arrangement or system at all, we shall find our progress impeded still more.

Do not read too much. The world is almost deluged with books. Not only see that your selection is as it should be, in regard to the character of the books, but beware of having too many of them. A few, well read and understood, will be more valuable.

The importance of sometimes reading aloud, has been mentioned. It has other advantages, however, than merely the exercise of the lungs. With a proper monitor at hand, it may be made a useful aid in correcting our enunciation, as well as in improving our conversational powers. Reading is but speaking the thoughts of others instead of our own; and she is the best reader—and indeed most likely to be made wiser by reading—who speaks the most naturally. Our reading should be such, generally, that a friend in an adjoining room would find it difficult to tell whether we are reading or conversing.

III. Composition.—Next to conversation and reading, as a means of intellectual improvement, I place composition. This is nothing, either more or less—at least it should not be—than talking on paper. As reading is merely talking over the thoughts of others—conversing in another's words—so composition is merely conversing with others through the medium of a piece of paper.

It is a most delightful consideration, that it has pleased God to secure to us a written language. Are we grateful enough for the gift? Do we think enough of the privilege of conversing in this way with friends in every quarter of the globe?

One of the most valuable kinds of composition is letter-writing, or epistolary correspondence. This, above all, should be in the style of familiar though well directed conversation.

I wish, with all my heart, that people could get rid of the idea, that there should be one style for conversation, and another for writing. Here is the stumbling-stone on which youth of both sexes have been stumbling, time immemorial; and on which, I fear, many will be likely to stumble for some time to come.

Could they get rid of this strange belief—could they perceive, most clearly, that composition is nothing more than putting our thoughts on paper, instead of delivering them by word of mouth—and that conversation is nothing less than composition, except that the words are written as it were in the air, instead of being placed on a sheet of paper—how soon would the complaints about the tediousness of composition cease to be heard. Some young women, of sixteen, or eighteen, or twenty years of age, appear to regard letter-writing as childish. They talk of having once been so foolish as to be addicted to the practice; but as having now outgrown it. Such persons have no conception of the vast importance of this species of composition, as an aid to correct thinking and correct writing. The more we think, the more and better we are able to think; and the more we write, the more thoughts we have which we wish to put down.

One valuable form of putting down thoughts—next to letter-writing—consists in keeping a journal. I often wonder why our families and schools should encourage almost every thing else, rather than letter-writing and journalizing. Our familiar letters to familiar friends, might often consist of extracts from our daily journals.

But here, again, there has been great error. Journals have usually consisted of the driest details, or exteriors of events. The young should be encouraged to record their feelings in them; their hopes and fears—their anticipations and their regrets—their joys and their sorrows—their repentances and their resolutions. Such journals, with old and young, could not fail to advance the intellect, even if they should not improve the heart.

IV. Music.—Attention to music-vocal music, especially-should always form a part of female education. The day is gone by, as I trust, when it was customary to say that none but the gifted could acquire this accomplishment. It is now, I believe, pretty well understood, that all persons may learn to sing, as well as to read. Not, of course, equally well, in either case; but all can make a degree of progress.

I have called singing an accomplishment; but it seems to me to be much more. Its bearing upon the health, and even upon the intellect, is very great. Even its moral tendency is by no means to be overlooked.

The value of music, to soothe the feelings and cast out the evil spirits which haunt the path of human life, has never yet received that measure of attention which it deserves. Even in those parts of continental Europe, where all the peasants sing, and are accustomed to fill the air with their cheerful and harmonious voices as they go forth to prosecute their daily tasks, no less than in their families—even there, I say, the full power and value of music are not understood. They make it, by far too much, a sort of sensual gratification. Let it be redeemed, for a better and a nobler purpose. Let it become a companion of science and literature, as well as of industry and of virtue—and of religion, still more than all.

V. Lectures and Concerts.—Lectures are often useful, even when they do no more than afford an agreeable means of passing an hour's time. They are not indispensable to those young women who love study; but are more useful as a means of exciting inquiry in those who have very little fondness for it. Besides, there are lectures, at times, on subjects which cannot be found in books; and in such cases they may be specially useful to all.

As for concerts, and parties of all sorts, attended as they usually are in the evening, there are many objections to them—though, as society is now regulated, it may not be best to denounce them altogether. Home is the proper place for young women, as well as for other honest people, after dark; at least this ought to be the general rule.

If lectures, concerts, &c., could be attended in the afternoon, there would be fewer objections to them. Even then, however, there would probably be more or less of intellectual dissipation connected with their attendance. It is to be regretted that time, which is so valuable, cannot be better employed, than in mere running abroad, because others are going.

VI. Studies.—If the young woman could have some judicious friend, male or female, to advise her what books to read, and what studies to pursue—and if the non-essentials in dress, &c., were discarded—I cannot help thinking that life is long enough, to give her an opportunity to become mistress of every thing which is usually thought to belong to a good English education. I will venture to say, that there is hardly a girl of twelve years of age, whose circumstances are so unfavorable, as to prevent her from thus acquiring the keys of knowledge by the time she is twenty-five years of age, could she be directed in a proper manner.

I have spoken of acquiring the keys of knowledge, as if this were the first object of a course of studies. And such I regard it. I know, indeed, that we reap some of the fruits of almost all our acquired knowledge, immediately: still, the greater part remains for years to come.

No young woman should fail to be thoroughly versed in spelling, reading, writing, composition, grammar, geography and arithmetic—and as much as possible, in anatomy, physiology, hygiene, chemistry, botany, natural history, philosophy, domestic and political economy, civil and ecclesiastical history, biography, and the philosophy of the Bible—to say nothing of geology, and the higher branches of mathematics.

One word more in regard to your handwriting. Nothing is more common, in these days, than to write in a most illegible manner—a mere scribble. Now, whatever young men may do in this respect, I beseech every young woman to avoid this wretched, slovenly habit. Hardly any thing appears more interesting to me, in a young woman, than a neat, delicate, and at the same time plain style of hand-writing.

Do not pursue too many studies at once: it is the most useless thing that can be done. Your knowledge, should you get any, would in that way be confused and indefinite, instead of being clear, and practical, and useful to you. I would never pursue more than one or two leading sciences at one time; and in general, I think that one is better than more. If you pursue more than one, let them be such as are related; as geography and history.

Let me say, in closing this chapter, that the great end of all intellectual culture, is to teach the art of thinking, and of thinking right. To learn to think, merely, is to rise only one degree above the brute creation. To learn to think well, however, is noble; worthy of the dignity of human nature, and of the Author of that nature.