s with the heat turned on in her room. She complains all
day of cold when not complaining of other things. She puts such a
strain on her stomach that it takes all of her vitality to look after
her food; therefore she has no vitality left with which to resist the
cold. Of course she resists the idea of a good brisk walk in the fresh
air, and yet, if she took the walk and enjoyed it, it would start up
her circulation, give her blood more oxygen, and help her stomach to go
through all its useless labor better.

When a woman disobeys all the laws of nervous health how can she expect
not to have her nerves rebel? Nerves in themselves are exquisitely
sensitive--with a direct tendency toward health.

"Don't give me such unnecessary work," the stomach cries. "Don't stuff
me full of the wrong things. Don't put a bulk of food into me, but chew
your food, so that I shall not have to do my own work and yours, too,
when the food gets down here."

And there is the poor stomach, a big nervous centre in close
communication with the brain, protesting and protesting, and its owner
interprets all these protestations into: "I am so unhappy. I have to
work so much harder than I ought. Nobody loves me. Oh, why am I so
nervous?"

The blood also cries out: "Give me more oxygen. I cannot help the lungs
or the stomach or the brain to do their work properly unless you take
exercise in the fresh air that will feed me truly and send me over the
body with good, wholesome vigor."

Now there is another thing that is sadly evident about the young woman
who will not take fresh air, nor eat the right food, nor masticate
properly the food that she does eat. When she goes out for a walk she
seems to fight the fresh air; she walks along full of resistance and
contraction, and tightens all her muscles so that she moves as if she
were tied together with ropes. The expression of her face is one of
miserable strain and endurance; the tone of her voice is full of
complaint. In eating either she takes her food with the appearance of
hungry grabbing, or she refuses it with a fastidious scorn. Any nervous
woman who really wants to find herself out, in order to get well and
strong, and contented and happy, will see in this description a
reflection of herself, even though it may be an exaggerated reflection.

Did you ever see a tired, hungry baby fight his food? His mother tries
to put the bottle to his mouth, and the baby cries and cries, and turns
his head a