Chapter V: Part 5

He ought not to have meat until he has several teeth to chew it with. If he has most of his teeth—which he very likely, at this age, will have—there is no objection to his taking a small slice either of mutton or occasionally of roast beef, which should be well cut into very small pieces, and mixed with a mealy, _mashed_ potato, and a few crumbs of bread and gravy, either _every_ day, if he be delicate, or every _other_ day, if he be a gross or a fast-feeding child. It may be well, in the generality of cases, for the first few months to give him meat _every other_ day, and either potato and gravy, or rice or suet-pudding or batter pudding on the alternate days; indeed, I think so highly of rice, of suet, and of batter puddings, and of other farinaceous puddings, that I should advise you to let him have either the one or the other, even on those days that he has meat—giving it him _after_ his meat. But remember, if he have meat _and_ pudding, the meat ought to be given sparingly. If he be gorged with food, it makes him irritable, cross, and stupid; at one time, clogging up the bowels and producing constipation; at another, disordering the liver, and causing either clay-colored stools, denoting a _deficiency_ of bile, or dark and offensive motions, telling of _vitiated_ bile; while, in a third case, cramming him with food might bring on convulsions.

137. _As you are so partial to puddings for a child, which do you consider the best for him?_

He ought, every day, to have a pudding for his dinner—either rice, arrow-root, sago, tapioca, suet-pudding, batter-pudding, or Yorkshire-pudding, mixed with crumbs of bread and gravy—free from grease. A well-boiled suet-pudding, with plenty of suet in it, is one of the best puddings he can have; it is, in point of fact, meat and farinaceous food combined, and is equal to and will oftentimes prevent the giving of cod-liver oil. Before cod-liver oil came into vogue, suet boiled in milk was _the_ remedy for a delicate child; he may, occasionally, have fruit-pudding, provided the pastry be both plain and light.

The objection to fruit pies and puddings is, that the pastry is often too rich for the delicate stomach of a child: there is no objection, certainly not, to the fruit—cooked fruit being, for a child, most wholesome; if, therefore, fruit puddings, and pies be eaten, the pastry part ought to be quite plain. There is, in “Murray’s Modern Cookery Book,” an excellent suggestion, which I will take the liberty of quoting, and of strongly urging my fair reader to carry into practice: “_To prepare fruit for children, a far more wholesome way than in pies and puddings_, is to put apples sliced, or plums, currants, gooseberries, etc., into a stone jar, and sprinkle among them as much Lisbon sugar as necessary. Set the jar on an oven or on a hearth, with a teacupful of water to prevent the fruit from burning; or put the jar into a saucepan of water, till its contents be perfectly done. Slices of bread or some rice may be put into the jar, to eat with the fruit.”

_Jam_—such as strawberry, raspberry, gooseberry—_is most wholesome for a child_, and ought occasionally to be given, in lieu of sugar, with the rice, with the batter, and with the other puddings. Marmalade, too, is very wholesome.

Puddings ought to be given _after_ and not _before_ his meat and vegetables; if you give him pudding before his meat, he might refuse to eat meat altogether.

By adopting the plan of giving puddings _every_ day, your child will require _less_ animal food: _much_ meat is injurious to a young child.

But do not run into an opposite extreme: a _little_ meat ought, every day, to be given, _provided he has cut the whole of his first set of teeth_; until then, meat every _other_ day will be often enough.

138. _As soon as a child has cut the whole of his first set of teeth, what ought to be his diet? What should be his breakfast?_

He can, then, have nothing better, where it agrees, than scalding-hot new milk poured on sliced bread, with a slice or two of bread and butter to eat with it. Butter, in moderation, is nourishing, fattening, and wholesome. Moreover, butter tends to keep the bowels regular. These facts should be borne in mind, as some mothers foolishly keep their children from butter, declaring it to be too rich for their children’s stomachs! New milk should be used in preference either to cream or to skimmed milk. Cream, as a rule, is too rich for the delicate stomach of a child, and skim-milk is too poor when robbed of the butter which the cream contains. But give cream and water, where new milk (as is _occasionally_ the case) does not agree; but never give skim-milk. _Skim_-milk (among other evils) produces costiveness, and necessitates the frequent administration of aperients. Cream, on the other hand, regulates and tends to open the bowels.

Although, as a rule, I am not so partial to cream as I am to good genuine fresh milk, yet I have found, in cases of great debility, more especially where a child is much exhausted by some inflammatory disease, such as inflammation of the lungs, the following food most serviceable: Beat up, by means of a fork, the yolk of an egg, then mix, little by little, half a teacupful of very weak _black_ tea, sweeten with one lump of sugar, and add a tablespoonful of cream. Let the foregoing, by teaspoonfuls at a time, be frequently given.

The above food is only to be administered until the exhaustion be removed, and is not to supersede the milk diet, which must, at stated periods, be given, as I have recommended in answers to previous and subsequent questions.

When a child has costive bowels, there is nothing better for his breakfast than well-made and well-boiled oatmeal stir-about, which ought to be eaten with milk fresh from the cow. Scotch children scarcely take anything else, and a finer race is not in existence; and, as for physic, many of them do not even know either the taste or the smell of it!

139. _Have you any remarks to make on cow’s milk, as an article of food?_

Cow’s milk is a valuable, indeed, an indispensable article of diet for children; it is most nourishing, wholesome, and digestible. The finest and the healthiest children are those who, for the first four or five years of their lives, are fed _principally_ upon it. Milk ought then to be their staple food.

No young child, as a rule, can live, or, if he live, can be healthy, unless milk is the staple article of his diet. There is no substitute for milk. To prove the fattening and strengthening qualities of milk, look only at a young calf who lives on milk, and on milk alone! He is a Samson in strength, and is as fat as butter; and all young things are fat if they are in health!

Milk contains every ingredient to build up the body, which is more than can be said of any other known substance. A child may live entirely, and become both healthy and strong, on milk, and on milk alone, as it contains every constituent of the human body. A child cannot “live by bread alone,” but he might on milk alone! Milk is animal and vegetable—it is meat and bread—it is a fluid, but as soon as it reaches the stomach it becomes a solid—solid food; it is the most important and valuable article of diet for a child in existence. It is a glorious food for the young, and must never, in any case, be dispensed with. How is milk, in the making of cheese, converted into curds? By rennet. What is rennet? The juice of a calf’s maw or stomach. The moment the milk enters the human maw or stomach, the juice of the stomach converts it into curds—into solid food, just as readily as when it enters a calf’s maw or stomach, and much more readily than by rennet, as the _fresh_ juice is stronger than the _stale_. An ignorant mother often complains that because, when her child is sick, the milk curdles, that it is a proof that it does not agree with him! If, at those times, it did _not_ curdle, it would, indeed, prove that his stomach was in a wretchedly weak state; she would, then, have abundant cause to be anxious. “Considering that milk contains in itself most of the constituents of a perfect diet, and is capable of maintaining life in infancy without the aid of any other substance, it is marvelous that the consumption of it is practically limited to so small a class; and not only so, but that in sick-rooms, where the patient is surrounded with every luxury, arrow-root, and other compounds containing much less nutriment, should so often be preferred to it.”

Do not let me be misunderstood. I do not mean to say but that the mixing of farinaceous food—such as Lemann’s Biscuit Powder, Robb’s Biscuit, Hards’ Farinaceous Food, Brown and Polson’s Corn Flour, and the like, with the milk, is an improvement—a great improvement; but still I maintain that a child might live and thrive, and that for a lengthened period, on milk—and on milk alone!

A dog will live and fatten for six weeks on milk alone! while he will starve and die in a shorter period on strong beef-tea alone!

It is a grievous sin for a milkman to adulterate milk. How many a poor infant has fallen a victim to that crime!—for crime it may truly be called.

It is folly in the extreme for a mother to bate a milkman down in the price of his milk; if she does, the milk is sure to be either of inferior quality, or adulterated, or diluted with water; and woe betide the poor unfortunate child if it be either the one or the other! The only way to insure good milk is to go to a respectable cow-keeper, and let him be made to thoroughly understand the importance of your child having _genuine_ milk, and that you are then willing to pay a fair remunerative price for it. Rest assured, that if you have to pay one penny or even twopence a quart more for _genuine_ milk, it is one of the best investments that you ever have made, or that you are ever likely to make, in this world! Cheap and inferior milk might well be called cheap and nasty; for inferior or adulterated milk is the very essence, the conglomeration, of nastiness; and, moreover, is very poisonous to a child’s stomach. One and the principal reason why so many children are rickety and scrofulous, is the horrid stuff called milk that is usually given to them. It is a crying evil, and demands a thorough investigation and reformation, and the individual interference of every parent. Limited Liability Companies are the order of the day; it would really be not a bad speculation if one was formed in every large town, in order to insure good, genuine, and undiluted milk.

_Young_ children, as a rule, are allowed to eat too much meat. It is a mistaken notion of a mother that they require so much animal food. If more milk were given, and less meat, they would be healthier, and would not be so predisposed to disease, especially to skin disease.

I should strongly recommend you, then, to be extravagant in your milk score. Each child ought, in the twenty-four hours, to take at least a quart of good, fresh, new milk. It should, of course, be given in various ways,—as bread and milk, rice puddings, milk, and different kinds of farinaceous food, stir-about, etc. etc.

140. _But suppose my child will not take milk, he having an aversion to it, what ought then to be done?_

Boil the milk, and sweeten it to suit his palate. After he has been accustomed to it for awhile, he will then, probably, like milk. Gradually reduce the sugar until at length it be dispensed with. A child will often take milk this way, whereas he will not otherwise touch it.

If a child will not drink milk, he _must_ eat meat; it is absolutely necessary that he should have either the one or the other; and, if he has cut nearly all his teeth, he ought to have both meat and milk—the former in moderation, the latter in abundance.

141. _Supposing milk should not agree with my child, what must then be done?_

Milk, either boiled or unboiled, almost always agrees with a child. If it does not, it must be looked upon as the exception, and not the rule. I would, in such a case, advise one-eighth of lime-water to be added to seven-eighths of new milk—that is to say, two tablespoonfuls of lime-water should be mixed with half a pint of new milk.

142. _Can you tell me of a way to prevent milk, in hot weather from turning sour?_

Let the jug of milk be put into a crock containing ice—either in the dairy or in the cellar. The ice should be kept wrapped either in a flannel or in a blanket, in a cool place until it be wanted.

143. _Is it necessary to give a child luncheon?_

If he want anything to eat between breakfast and dinner, let him have a piece of _dry_ bread; and if he has eaten very heartily at dinner, and, like Oliver Twist, “asks for more!” give him, to satisfy his craving, a piece of _dry_ bread. He will never eat more of that than will do him good, and yet he will take sufficient to satisfy his hunger, which is very important.

144. _What ought now to be his dinner?_

He should now have meat, either mutton or beef, daily, which must be cut up very small, and should be mixed with mealy _mashed_ potato and gravy. He ought _always_ to be accustomed to eat salt with his dinner. Let a mother see that this advice is followed, or evil consequences will inevitably ensue. Let him be closely watched, to ascertain that he well masticates his food, and that he does not eat too quickly; for young children are apt to bolt their food.

145. _Have you any objection to pork for a change?_

I have a great objection to it for the young. It is a rich, gross, and therefore unwholesome food for the delicate stomach of a child. I have known it, in several instances, produce violent pain, sickness, purging, and convulsions. If a child be fed much upon such meat, it will be likely to produce “breakings-out” on the skin. In fine, his blood will put on the same character as the food he is fed with. Moreover, pork might be considered a _strong_ meat, and “_strong_ meat and _strong_ drink can only be taken by _strong_ men.”

146. _Do you approve of veal for a child?_

My objection to pork was, that it was rich and gross; this does not apply to veal; but the objection to it is, that it is more difficult of digestion than either mutton or beef.

147. _Do you disapprove of salted and boiled beef for a child?_

If beef be _much_ salted it is hard of digestion, and therefore ought not to be given to him; but if it has been but _slightly_ salted, then for a change there will be no objection to a little.

There is no necessity in the _winter_ time to _salt_ meat intended for boiling; then, boiled _unsalted_ meat makes a nice change for a child’s dinner. Salt, of course, _must_ with the unsalted meat be eaten.

148. _But suppose there is nothing on the table that a child may with impunity eat?_

He should then have either a grilled mutton-chop, or a lightly boiled egg; indeed, the latter, at any time, makes an excellent change.

149. _Are potatoes an unwholesome food for a child?_

New ones are; but old potatoes, well cooked and mealy, are the best vegetables he can have. They ought to be _well mashed_, as I have known lumps of potatoes cause convulsions.

150. _Do you approve of any other vegetables for a child?_

Occasionally. Either asparagus, or broccoli, or cauliflower, or turnips, or French beans, which latter should be cut up fine, may with advantage be given.

151. _Might not a mother be too particular in dieting her child?_

Certainly not. If blood can be too pure and too good she might! When we take into account that the food we eat is converted into blood; that if the food be good, the blood is good; and that if the food be improper or impure, the blood is impure likewise; and, moreover, when we know that every part of the body is built up by the blood, we cannot be considered to be too particular in making our selection of food. Besides, if indigestible or improper food be taken into the stomach, the blood will not only be made impure, but the stomach and the bowels will be disordered.

Do not let me be misunderstood: I am no advocate for a child having the same food one day as another—certainly not. Let there be variety, but let it be _wholesome_ variety. Variety in a child’s (not in an infant’s) food is necessary. If he were fed, day after day, on mutton, his stomach would at length be brought into that state that in time it would not properly digest any other meat, and a miserable existence would be the result.

152. _What ought a child to drink with his dinner?_

Toast and water, or, if he prefer it, plain spring water. Let him have as much as he likes. If you give him water to drink, there is no fear of his taking too much; Nature will tell him when he has had enough. Be careful of the quality of the water, and the source from which you procure it. Soft spring water from a moderately deep well is the best. If it come from a land spring, it is apt, indeed is almost sure, to be contaminated by drains, etc., which is a frequent cause of fevers, of diphtheria, of Asiatic cholera, and of other blood poisons.

Guard against the drinking water being contaminated with lead; never, therefore, allow the water to be collected in leaden cisterns, as it sometimes is if the water be obtained from Water-works’ companies. Lead pumps, for the same reason, ought never to be used for drinking purposes. Paralysis, constipation, lead colic, dropping of the wrist, wasting of the ball of the thumb, loss of memory and broken and ruined health might result from neglect of this advice.

All honor to the man who first invented the Drinking Fountain, and all honor to the mayors and corporations of towns who see that they are kept in good, efficient working order! The drinking fountains are a great boon to poor children, as water, and plenty of it, is one of the chief necessaries of their very existence; and, unfortunately, at their own homes they are not, oftentimes, able to obtain a sufficient supply. Moreover, drinking fountains are the best advocates for temperance.

Some parents are in the habit of giving their children beer with their dinners, making them live as they live themselves! This practice is truly absurd, and fraught with great danger—not only so, but it is inducing a child to be fond of that which in after life might be his bane and curse. No good end can be obtained by it; it will not strengthen so young a child; it will, on the contrary, create fever, and will thereby weaken him; it will act injuriously upon his delicate, nervous, and vascular systems, and might be a means of producing inflammation either of the brain or of its membranes, and might thus cause water on the brain (a disease to which young children are subject), or it might induce inflammation of the lungs.

158. _What ought a child who has cut his teeth to have for his supper?_

The same that he has for breakfast. He should sup at six o’clock.

154. _Have you any general remarks to make on a child’s meals?_

I recommended a great sameness in an _infant’s_ diet; but a _child’s_ meals, his dinners especially, ought to be much varied. For instance, do not let him have, day after day, mutton; but ring the changes on mutton, beef, poultry, game, and even occasionally fish—sole or cod.

Not only let there be a change of meat, but let there be a change in the manner of cooking it: let the meat sometimes be roasted; at other times let it be boiled. I have known a mother who has prided herself as being experienced in these matters, feed her child, day after day, on mutton-chops! Such a proceeding is most injurious to him, as after awhile his unfortunate stomach will digest nothing but mutton-chops, and, in time, not even those!

With regard to vegetables, potatoes—_mashed_ potatoes—ought to be his staple vegetable; but every now and then, cauliflower, asparagus, turnips, and French beans should be given.

With respect to puddings, vary them—rice, one day; suet, another; batter, a third; tapioca, a fourth; or, even occasionally, he might have either apple or gooseberry or rhubarb-pudding, provided the pastry be plain and light.

It is an excellent plan, as I have before remarked, to let a child eat jam—such as strawberry, raspberry, or gooseberry—and that without stint, either with rice or with batter puddings.

_Variety of diet_, then, is _good for a child_: it will give him muscle, bone, and sinew; and, what is very important, it will tend to regulate his bowels, and it will thus prevent the necessity of giving him aperients.

But do not stuff a child—do not press him, as is the wont of some mothers, to eat more than he feels inclined. On the contrary, if you think that he is eating too much—that he is overloading his stomach—and if he should ask for more, then, instead of giving him either more meat or more pudding, give him a piece of dry bread. By doing so, you may rest assured that he will not eat more than is absolutely good for him.

155. _If a child be delicate, is there any objection to a little wine, such as cowslip or tent, to strengthen him?_

Wine ought not to be given to a child unless it be ordered by a medical man: it is even more injurious than beer. Wine, beer, and spirits principally owe their strength to the alcohol they contain; indeed, nearly _all_ wines are _fortified_ (as it is called) with brandy. Brandy contains a large quantity of alcohol, more than any other liquor, namely, 55.3 per cent. If, therefore, you give wine, it is, in point of fact, giving diluted brandy—diluted alcohol; and alcohol acts, unless it be used as a medicine, and under skillful medical advice, as a poison to a child.

156. _Suppose a child suddenly to lose his appetite: is any notice to be taken of it?_

If he cannot eat well, depend upon it there is something wrong about the system. If he be teething, let a mother look well to his gums, and satisfy herself that they do not require lancing. If they be red, hot, and swollen, send for a medical man, that he may scarify them. If his gums be not inflamed, and no tooth appears near, let her look well to the state of his bowels; let her ascertain that they be sufficiently opened, and that the stools be of a proper consistence, color, and smell. If they be neither the one nor the other, give a dose of aperient medicine, which will generally put all to rights. If the gums be cool, and the bowels be right, and his appetite continue bad, call in medical aid.

A child asking for something to eat is frequently, in a severe illness, the first favorable symptom; we may generally then prognosticate that all will soon be well again.

If a child refuse his food, neither coax nor tempt him to eat: as food without an appetite will do him more harm than it will do him good; it may produce either sickness, bowel complaint, or fever. Depend upon it, there is always a cause for want of appetite;—perhaps his stomach has been overworked, and requires repose; or his bowels are loaded, and Nature wishes to take time to use up the old material;—there might be fever lurking in his system; Nature stops the supplies, and thus endeavors, by not giving it food to work with, to nip it in the bud;—there might be inflammation; food would then be improper, as it would only add fuel to the fire; let, therefore, the cause be either an overworked stomach, overloaded bowels, fever, or inflammation, food would be injurious. Kind Nature, if we will but listen to her voice, will tell us when to eat and when to refrain.

157. _When a child is four or five years old, have you any objection to his drinking tea?_

Some parents are in the habit of giving their children strong (and frequently green) tea. This practice is most hurtful. It acts injuriously upon their delicate, nervous system, and thus weakens their whole frame. If milk does not agree, a cup of very weak tea, that is to say, water with a dash of _black_ tea in it, with a tablespoonful of cream, may be substituted for milk; but a mother must never give tea where milk agrees.

158. _Have you any objection to a child occasionally having either cakes or sweetmeats?_

I consider them as so much slow poison. Such things both cloy and weaken the stomach, and thereby take away the appetite, and thus debilitate the frame. Moreover, “sweetmeats are colored with poisonous pigments.” A mother, surely, is not aware that when she is giving her child sugar confectionery she is, in many cases, administering a deadly poison to him? “We beg to direct the attention of our readers to the Report of the Analytical Sanitary Commission, contained in the _Lancet_, on the pigments employed in coloring articles of sugar confectionery. From this report it appears that metallic pigments, of a highly dangerous and even poisonous character, containing chromic acid, lead, copper, mercury, and arsenic, are commonly used in the coloring of such articles.”

If a child be never allowed to eat cakes and sweetmeats, he will consider a piece of dry bread a luxury, and will eat it with the greatest relish.

159. _Is baker’s or is home-made bread the most wholesome for a child?_

Baker’s bread is certainly the lightest; and, if we could depend upon its being unadulterated, would, from its lightness, be the most wholesome; but as we cannot always depend upon baker’s bread, home-made bread, as a rule, should be preferred. If it be at all heavy, a child must not be allowed to partake of it; a baker’s loaf ought then to be sent for, and continued to be eaten until light home-made bread can be procured. Heavy bread is most indigestible. He must not be allowed to eat bread until it be two or three days old. If it be a week old, in cold weather, it will be the more wholesome.

160. _Do you approve either of caraway seeds or of currants in bread or in cakes—the former to disperse wind, the latter to open the bowels?_

There is nothing better than plain bread: the caraway seeds generally pass through the bowels undigested, and thus might irritate, and might produce, instead of disperse wind. Although caraway seeds _whole_ are unwholesome, yet caraway-tea, made as recommended in question 97, is an excellent remedy to disperse wind. Some mothers put currants in cakes, with a view of opening the bowels of their children; but they only open them by disordering them.

161. _My child has an antipathy to certain articles of diet: what would you advise to be done?_

A child’s antipathy to certain articles of diet should be respected: it is a sin and a shame to force him to eat what he has a great dislike to: a child, for instance, sometimes dislikes the fat of meat, underdone meat, the skin off boiled milk and off rice-pudding. Why should he not have his likes and dislikes as well as “children of a larger growth?” Besides, there is an idiosyncrasy—a peculiarity of the constitution in some children—and Nature oftentimes especially points out what is good and what is bad for them individually, and we are not to fly in the face of Nature. “What is one man’s meat is another man’s poison.” If a child be forced to eat what he dislikes, it will most likely not only make him sick, but will disorder his stomach and bowels: food, if it is really to do him good, must be eaten by him with a relish, and not with disgust and aversion. Some mothers, who are strict disciplinarians, pride themselves on compelling their children to eat whatever they choose to give them! Such children are to be pitied!

162. _When ought a child to commence to dine with his parents?_

As soon as he be old enough to sit up at the table, provided the father and mother either dine or lunch in the middle of the day. “I always prefer having children about me at meal-times. I think it makes them little gentlemen and gentlewomen in a manner that nothing else will.”

THE NURSERY.

163. _Have you any remarks to make on the selection, the ventilation, the warming, the temperature, and the arrangements of a nursery? and have you any further observations to offer conducive to the well-doing of my child?_

The nursery ought to be the largest and the most airy room in the house. In the town, if it be in the topmost story (provided the apartment be large and airy) so much the better, as the air will then be purer. The architect, in the building of a house, ought to be particularly directed to pay attention to the space, the loftiness, the ventilation, the light, the warming, and the conveniences of a nursery. A bath-room attached to it will be of great importance and benefit to the health of a child.

It will, also, be advantageous to have a water-closet near at hand, which should be well supplied with water, be well drained, and be well ventilated. If this be not practicable, the evacuations ought to be removed as soon as they are passed. It is a filthy and an idle habit of a nurse-maid to allow a motion to remain for any length of time in the room.

The VENTILATION of a nursery is of paramount importance. There ought to be a constant supply of fresh, pure air in the apartment. But how few nurseries have fresh, pure air? Many nurseries are nearly hermetically sealed—the windows are seldom, if ever, opened; the doors are religiously closed; and, in the summer time, the chimneys are carefully stuffed up, so that a breath of air is not allowed to enter! The consequences are, the poor unfortunate children “are poisoned by their own breaths,” and are made so delicate that they are constantly catching cold; indeed, it might be said that they are laboring under chronic catarrhs, all rising from Nature’s laws being set at defiance.

The windows ought to be large, and should be made to freely open both top and bottom. Whenever the child is out of the nursery the windows ought to be thrown wide open; indeed, when he is in it, if the weather be fine, the upper sash should be a little lowered. A child should be encouraged to change the room frequently, in order that it may be freely ventilated; for good air is as necessary to his health as wholesome food, and air cannot be good if it be not frequently changed. If you wish to have a strong and healthy child, ponder over and follow this advice.

I have to enter my protest against the use of a stove in a nursery. I consider a gas stove _without a chimney_ to be an abomination, most destructive to human life. There is nothing like the old-fashioned open fire-place, with a good-sized chimney, so that it may not only carry off the smoke, but also the impure air of the room.

Be sure to have a fire-guard around the grate, and be strict in not allowing your child either to touch or to play with fire; frightful accidents have occurred from mothers and nurses being on these points lax.

The nursery ought to have a large fire-guard, to go all round the hearth, and which should be sufficiently high to prevent a child from climbing over. Not only must the nursery have a guard, but every room where he is allowed to go should be furnished with one on the bars.

Moreover, it will be necessary to have a guard in every room where a fire is burning, to protect the ladies, who, in accordance with the present fashion, wear such preposterous crinolines, and thus to prevent the frightful deaths which are at the present time of such frequent and startling occurrence; lady-burning is now one of the institutions of our land!

A nursery is usually kept too hot; the temperature in the winter time ought _not to exceed_ 60 degrees Fahrenheit. A _good_ thermometer should be considered an indispensable requisite to a nursery. A child in a hot, close nursery is bathed in perspiration; if he leave the room to go to one of lower temperature, the pores of the skin are suddenly closed, and either a severe cold, or an inflammation of the lungs, or an attack of bronchitis, is likely to ensue. Moreover, the child is both weakened and enervated by the heat, and thus readily falls a prey to disease.

A child ought never to be permitted to sit with his back to the fire; if he be allowed, it weakens his spine, and thus his whole frame; it causes a rush of blood to the head and face, and predisposes him to catch cold.

Let a nurse make a point of opening the nursery window every time that she and her little charge leave the nursery, if their absence be only for half an hour. The mother herself ought to see that this advice is followed, pure air is so essential to the well-being of a child. Pure air and pure water, and, let me add, pure milk, are for a child the grand and principal requirements of health. “Pure air and water are practically the two great elements of health.”—_The Times._

Look well to the DRAINAGE of your house and neighborhood. A child is very susceptible to the influence of bad drainage. Bad drains are fruitful sources of scarlet fever, of diphtheria, of diarrhœa, etc. “It is sad to be reminded, that, whatever evils threaten the health of a population, whether from pollutions of water or of air,—whether from bad drainage or overcrowding, they fall heaviest on the most innocent victims—upon children of tender years. Their delicate frames are infinitely more sensitive than the hardened constitutions of adults, and the breath of poison or the chill of hardships easily blights their tender life.”

A nursery floor ought not to be _washed_ oftener than once a week; and then the child or children should, until it be dry, be sent into another room. During the drying of the floor, the windows must, of course, be thrown _wide_ open.

The constant _wetting_ of a nursery is a frequent source of illness among children. The floor ought, of course, to be kept clean; but this may be done by the servant thoroughly sweeping the room out every morning before her little charge makes his appearance.

Do not have your nursery walls covered with _green_ paper-hangings. Green paper-hangings contain large quantities of arsenic—arsenite of copper (Scheele’s green)—which, I need scarcely say, is a virulent poison, and which flies about the room in the form of powder. There is frequently enough poison on the walls of a room to destroy a whole neighborhood.

There is another great objection to having your nursery walls covered with _green_ paper-hangings; if any of the paper should become loose from the walls, a little child is very apt to play with it, and to put it, as he does everything else, to his mouth. This is not an imaginary state of things, as four children in one family have just lost their lives from sucking green paper-hangings.

Green dresses, as they are colored with a preparation of arsenic, are equally as dangerous as green paper-hangings; a child ought, therefore, never to wear a _green_ dress. “It may be interesting to some of our readers,” says _Land and Water_, “to know that the new green, so fashionable for ladies’ dresses, is just as dangerous in its nature as the green wall-paper, about which so much was written some time since. It is prepared with a large quantity of arsenic; and we have been assured by several of the leading dressmakers that the work-women employed in making up dresses of this color are seriously affected with all the symptoms of arsenical poison. Let our lady friends take care.”

Children’s toys are frequently painted of a green color with arsenic of copper, and are, consequently, highly dangerous to play with. The best toy for a child is a box of unpainted wooden bricks, which is a constant source of amusement to him.

If you have your nursery walls hung with paintings and engravings, let them be of good quality. The horrid daubs and bad engravings that usually disfigure nursery walls, are enough to ruin the taste of a child, and to make him take a disgust to drawing, which would be a misfortune. A fine engraving and a good painting expand and elevate his mind. We all know that first impressions are the most vivid and the most lasting. A taste in early life for everything refined and beautiful purifies his mind, cultivates his intellect, keeps him from low company, and makes him grow up a gentleman!

Lucifer matches, in case of sudden illness, should, both in the nursery and in the bed-room, always be in readiness; but they must be carefully placed out of the reach of children, as lucifer matches are a deadly poison.

164. _Have you any observation to make on the_ LIGHT _of the nursery_?

Let the window, or, what is better, the windows, of a nursery be very large, so as to thoroughly light up every nook and corner of the room, as there is nothing more conducive to the health of a child than an abundance of light in the dwelling.

A room cannot, then, be too light. The windows of a nursery are generally too small. A child requires as much light as a plant. Gardeners are well aware of the great importance of light in the construction of their greenhouses, and yet a child, who requires it as much, and is of much greater importance, is cooped up in dark rooms!

The windows of a nursery ought not only to be frequently opened to let in fresh air, _but should be frequently cleaned_, to let in plenty of light and of sunshine, as nothing is so cheering and beneficial to a child as an abundance of light and sunshine!

_With regard to the best artificial light for a nursery._—The air of a nursery cannot be too pure; I therefore do not advise you to have gas in it, as gas in burning gives off quantities of carbonic acid and sulphuretted hydrogen, which vitiate the air. There is no better light for a nursery than either Price’s patent candles or the old-fashioned tallow candle.

Let a child’s _home_ be the happiest _house_ to him in all the world; and to be happy he must be merry, and all around him should be merry and cheerful; and he ought to have an abundance of playthings, to help on the merriment.

If he has a dismal nurse, and a dismal home, he may as well be incarcerated in prison, and be attended by a jailer. It is sad enough to see dismal, doleful men and women, but it is a truly lamentable and unnatural sight to see a doleful child! The young ought to be as playful and as full of innocent mischief as a kitten. There will be quite time enough in after-years for sorrow and for sadness.

Bright colors, plenty of light, _clean_ windows (mind this, if you please), an abundance of _good_-colored prints, and toys without number, are the proper furnishings of a nursery. Nursery! why, the very name tells you what it ought to be—the home of childhood,—the most important room in the house,—a room that will greatly tend to stamp the character of your child for the remainder of his life.

165. _Have you any more hints to offer conducive to the well-doing of my child?_

You cannot be too particular in the choice of those who are in constant attendance upon him. You yourself, of course, must be his _head-nurse_—you only require some one to take the drudgery off your hands!

You ought to be particularly careful in the selection of his nurse. She should be steady, lively, truthful, and good-tempered; and must be free from any natural imperfection, such as squinting, stammering, etc., for a child is such an imitative creature that he is likely to acquire that defect, which in the nurse is natural. “Children, like babies, are quick at ‘taking notice.’ What they see they mark, and what they mark they are very prone to copy.”

She ought not to be very young, or she may be thoughtless, careless, and giggling. You have no right to set a child to mind a child; it would be like the blind leading the blind. No! a child is too precious a treasure to be intrusted to the care and keeping of a young girl. Many a child has been ruined for life by a careless young nurse dropping him and injuring his spine.

A nurse ought to be both strong and active, in order that her little charge may have plenty of good nursing; for it requires great strength in the arms to carry a heavy child for the space of an hour or two, at a stretch, in the open air; and such is absolutely necessary, and is the only way to make him strong, and to cause him to cut his teeth easily, and at the same time to regulate his bowels; a nurse, therefore, must be strong and active, and not mind hard work, for hard work it is; but after she is accustomed to it, pleasant notwithstanding.

Never should a nurse be allowed to wear a mask, nor to dress up and paint herself as a ghost, or as any other frightful object. A child is naturally timid and full of fears, and what would not make the slightest impression upon a grown-up person, might throw a child into fits—

“The sleeping and the dead,
Are but as pictures: ’tis the age of childhood
That fears a painted devil.”

Never should she be permitted to tell her little charge frightful stories of ghosts and hobgoblins; if this be allowed, the child’s disposition will become timid and wavering, and may continue so for the remainder of his life.

If a little fellow were not terrified by such stories, the darkness would not frighten him more than the light. Moreover, the mind thus filled with fear, acts upon the body, and injures the health. A child must never be placed in a dark cellar, nor frightened by tales of rats, etc. Instances are related of fear thus induced impairing the intellect for life; and there are numerous examples of sudden fright causing a dangerous and even a fatal illness.

_Night-terrors._—This frightening of a child by a silly nurse frequently brings on night-terrors. He wakes up suddenly, soon after going to sleep, frightened and terrified; screaming violently, and declaring that he has seen either some ghost, or thief, or some object that the silly nurse had been previously in the day describing, who is come for him to take him away. The little fellow is the very picture of terror and alarm; he hides his face in his mother’s bosom, the perspiration streams down him, and it is some time before he can be pacified—when, at length, he falls into a troubled, feverish slumber, to awake in the morning unrefreshed. Night after night these terrors harass him, until his health materially suffers, and his young life becomes miserable, looking forward with dread to the approach of darkness.

_Treatment of night-terrors._—If they have been caused by the folly of the nurse, discharge her at once, and be careful to select a more discreet one. When the child retires to rest leave a candle burning, and let it burn all night; sit with him until he be asleep; and take care, in case he should rouse up in one of his night-terrors, that either you yourself or some kind person be near at hand. Do not scold him for being frightened—he cannot help it; but soothe him, calm him, fondle him, take him into your arms, and let him feel that he has some one to rest upon, to defend and to protect him. It is frequently in these cases necessary before he can be cured to let him have change of air and change of scene. Let him live in the daytime, a great part of the day, in the open air.

A nurse-maid should never, on any account whatever, be allowed to whip a child. “Does ever any man or woman remember the feeling of being ‘whipped’ as a child, the fierce anger, the insupportable ignominy, the longing for revenge, which blotted out all thought of contrition for the fault or rebellion against the punishment? With this recollection on their own parts, I can hardly suppose any parents venturing to inflict it, much less allowing its infliction by another under any circumstances whatever. A nurse-maid or domestic of any sort, once discovered to have lifted up her hand against a child, ought to meet instant severe rebuke, and on a repetition of the offense instant dismissal.”

I have seen in the winter time a lazy nurse sit before the fire with a child on her lap, rubbing his cold feet just before putting him to his bed. Now this is not the way to warm his feet. The right method is to let him romp and run either about the room, or the landing, or the hall—this will effectually warm them; but, of course, it will entail a little extra trouble on the nurse, as she will have to use a little exertion to induce him to do so, and this extra trouble a lazy nurse will not relish. Warming the feet before the fire will give the little fellow chilblains, and will make him when he is in bed more chilly. The only way for him to have a good romp before he goes to bed, is for the mother to join in the game. She may rest assured, that if she does so, her child will not be the only one to benefit by it. She herself will find it of marvelous benefit to her own health; it will warm her own feet, it will be almost sure to insure her a good night, and will make her feel so light and buoyant as almost to fancy that she is a girl again! Well, then, let every child, before he retire to bed, hold a high court of revelry, let him have an hour—the Children’s Hour—devoted to romp, to dance, to riot, and to play, and let him be the master of the revels—

“Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupation,
Which is known as the Children’s Hour.”

Let a child be employed—take an interest in his employment, let him fancy that he is useful—_and he is useful_, he is laying in a stock of health. He is much more usefully employed than many other grown-up children are!

A child should be happy; he must, in every way, be made happy; everything ought to be done to conduce to his happiness, to give him joy, gladness, and pleasure. Happy he should be, as happy as the day is long. Kindness should be lavished upon him. Make a child understand that you love him; prove it in your actions—these are better than words; look after his little pleasures—join in his little sports; let him never hear a morose word—it would rankle in his breast, take deep root, and in due time bring forth bitter fruit. Love! let love be his polestar; let it be the guide and the rule of all you do and all you say unto him. Let your face, as well as your tongue, speak love. Let your hands be ever ready to minister to his pleasures and to his play. “Blessed be the hand that prepares a pleasure for a child, for there is no saying when and where it may again bloom forth. Does not almost everybody remember some kind-hearted man who showed him a kindness in the dulcet days of childhood? The writer of this recollects himself, at this moment, a bare-footed lad, standing at the wooden fence of a poor little garden in his native village, while, with longing eyes, he gazed on the flowers which were blooming there quietly in the brightness of the Sabbath morning. The possessor came from his little cottage. He was a wood-cutter by trade, and spent the whole week at work in the woods. He had come into the garden to gather flowers to stick in his coat when he went to church. He saw the boy, and breaking off the most beautiful of his carnations (it was streaked with red and white), he gave it to him. Neither the giver nor the receiver spoke a word, and with bounding steps the boy ran home. And now, here, at a vast distance from that home, after so many events of so many years, the feeling of gratitude which agitated the breast of that boy, expressed itself on paper. The carnation has long since faded, but it now bloometh afresh.”

The hearty ringing laugh of a child is sweet music to the ear. There are three most joyous sounds in nature—the hum of a bee, the purr of a cat, and the laugh of a child. They tell of peace, of happiness, and of contentment, and make one for awhile forget that there is so much misery in the world.

A man who dislikes children is unnatural; he has no “milk of human kindness” in him; he should be shunned. Give me, for a friend, a man—

“Who takes the children on his knee,
And winds their curls about his hand.”

166. _If a child be peevish, and apparently in good health, have you any plan to offer to allay his irritability?_

A child’s troubles are soon over—his tears are soon dried; “nothing dries sooner than a tear”—if not prolonged by improper management:

“The tear down childhood’s cheek that flows,
Is like the dewdrop on the rose;
When next the summer breeze comes by,
And waves the bush, the flower is dry.”

Never allow a child to be teased; it spoils his temper. If he be in a cross humor take no notice of it, but divert his attention to some pleasing object. This may be done without spoiling him. Do not combat bad temper with bad temper—noise with noise. Be firm, be kind, be gentle, be loving, speak quietly, smile tenderly, and embrace him fondly, but _insist upon implicit obedience_, and you will have, with God’s blessing, a happy child: “But we were gentle among you, even as a woman cherisheth her children.”—I. Thess. ii. 7.

“When a little child is weak,
From fever passing by,
Or wearied out with restlessness,
Don’t scold him if he cry.

Tell him some pretty story—
Don’t read it from a book;
He likes to watch you while you speak,
And take in every look.

Or sometimes singing gently—
A little song may please,
With quiet and amusing words,
And tune that flows with ease.

Or if he is impatient,
Perhaps from time to time
A simple hymn may suit the best,
In short and easy rhyme.

The measured verses flowing
In accents clear and mild,
May blend into his troubled thought,
And soothe the little child,

But let the words be simple,
And suited to his mind,
And loving, that his weary heart
A resting-place may find.”