Storieta
English
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About this book

This work is a self‑help guide that blends practical hygiene advice with the rhetoric of early‑20th‑century physical‑education teaching. It opens with a lyrical appeal to rise with the birds, stretch like a herd, and inhale the morning air, then moves into a series of numbered chapters that promise a “short programme” of exercises, explanations of health “secrets,” and daily habits for work, play, and sleep. The author, Samuel Silas Curry, a voice‑teacher affiliated with the Boston School of Expression, grounds his claims in personal anecdotes, citing the poet Bryant’s added decade of life and his own three‑men workload despite physicians’ warnings, while insisting that true benefit comes from mental and emotional discipline as much as bodily movement.

Curry’s voice is earnest, almost devotional, mixing poetic flourishes with the didactic tone of a lecture hall. The prose reflects the optimism and moral earnestness of the Progressive Era, peppered with references to classical poetry and a belief in the transformative power of disciplined routine. Readers who enjoy historical health manuals, early wellness literature, or the moral‑inspirational style of turn‑of‑the‑century educators will find this book’s blend of poetry, pedagogy, and practical exercise both intriguing and motivating.

Who appears in this book

  • Samuel Silas CurryMiddle‑aged white man, dark hair, moustache, wearing a dark frock coat, tie, spectacles, holding a notebook
  • BryantElderly white poet, long white hair and beard, Victorian suit with waistcoat, holding a quill

The opening · free to read

Qui Transtulit Sustinet

As ancient exile at the close of day, Paused on his country's farthest hills to view Those valleys sinking in the distant blue Where all the joys and hopes of childhood lay; So now across the years our thoughts will stray To those whose hearts were ever brave and true, Who gave the hope and faith from which we drew The strength to climb thus far upon our way. As he amid the rocks and twilight gray, Saw rocks and steeps transform to stairs, and knew He wandered not alone; so may we too See this, our tentless crag where wild winds play A Bethel rise, and we here wake to know That down and upward angels come and go.

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