Chapter VI: Part 6

Speak _gently_ to a child; speak _gently_ to all; but more especially speak _gently_ to a child. “A gentle voice is an excellent thing in woman,” and is a jewel of great price, and is one of the concomitants of a _perfect_ lady. Let the hinges of your disposition be well oiled. “‘I have a dear friend. He was one of those well-oiled dispositions which turn upon the hinges of the world without creaking.’ Would to heaven there were more of them! How many there are who never turn upon the hinges of this world without a grinding that sets the teeth of a whole household on edge! And somehow or other it has been the evil fate of many of the best spirits to be so circumstanced; both men and women, to whom life is ‘sweet habitude of being,’ which has gone far to reconcile them to solitude as far less intolerable! To these especially the creakings of those said rough hinges of the world is one continued torture, for they are all too finely strung; and the oft-recurring grind jars the whole sentient frame, mars the beautiful lyre, and makes cruel discord in a soul of music. How much of sadness there is in such thoughts! Seems there not a Past in some lives to which it is impossible ever to become reconciled?”

Pleasant words ought always to be spoken to a child! there must be neither snarling, nor snapping, nor snubbing, nor loud contention toward him. If there be it will ruin his temper and disposition, and will make him hard and harsh, morose and disagreeable.

Do not be always telling your child how wicked he is; what a naughty boy he is; that God will never love him, and all the rest of such twaddle. Do not, in point of fact, bully him, as many poor little fellows are bullied! It will ruin him if you do; it will make him in after-years either a coward or a tyrant. Such conversations, like constant droppings of water, will make an impression, and will cause him to feel that it is of no use to try to be good—that he is hopelessly wicked! Instead of such language, give him confidence in himself; rather find out his good points and dwell upon them; praise him where and whenever you can; and make him feel that, by perseverance and by God’s blessing, he will make a good man. Speak truthfully to your child; if you once deceive him, he will not believe you for the future. Not only so, but if you are truthful yourself you are likely to make him truthful—like begets like. There is something beautiful in truth! A lying child is an abomination! Sir Walter Scott says “that he taught his son to ride, to shoot, and to tell the truth.”

As soon as a child can speak, he should be made to lisp the noble words of truth, and to love it, and to abhor a lie! What a beautiful character he will then make! Blessed is that child who can say,—

“Parental cares watched o’er my growing youth,
And early stamped it with the love of truth.”

Have no favorites, show no partiality; for the young are very jealous, sharp-sighted, and quick-witted, and take a dislike to the petted one. Do not rouse the old Adam in them. Let children be taught to be “kindly affectionate one to another, with brotherly love;” let them be encouraged to share each other’s toys and playthings, and to banish selfishness.

Attend to a child’s _little_ pleasures. It is the _little_ pleasures of a child that constitute his happiness. Great pleasures to him and to us all (as a favorite author remarks) come but seldom, and are the exceptions, and not the rule.

Let a child be nurtured in love. “It will be seen that I hold this law of kindness as the Alpha and Omega of education. I once asked one, in his own house, a father in everything but the name, his authority unquestioned, his least word held in reverence, his smallest wish obeyed,—‘How did you ever manage to bring up these children?’ He said, ‘_By love!_’”

Let every word and action prove that you love your children. Enter into all their little pursuits and pleasures. Join them in their play, and “be a child again!” If they are curious, do not check their curiosity; but rather encourage it; for they have a great deal—as we all have—to learn, and how can they know if they are not taught? You can depend upon it, the knowledge they obtain from observation is far superior to that obtained from books. Let all you teach them, let all you do, and let all you say, bear the stamp of love. “Endeavor, from first to last, in your intercourse with your children, to let it bear the impress of _love_. It is not enough that you _feel_ affection toward your children—that you are devoted to their interests; you must show in your manner the fondness of your hearts toward them. Young minds cannot appreciate great sacrifices made for them; they judge their parents by the words and deeds of everyday life. They are won by _little_ kindnesses, and alienated by _little_ acts of neglect or impatience. One complaint unnoticed, one appeal unheeded, one lawful request arbitrarily refused, will be remembered by your little ones more than a thousand acts of the most devoted affection.”

A placid, well-regulated temper is very conducive to health. A disordered or an overloaded stomach is a frequent cause of peevishness. Appropriate treatment in such a case will, of course, be necessary.

167. _My child stammers: can you tell me the cause, and can you suggest a remedy?_

A child who stammers is generally “nervous,” quick, and impulsive. His ideas flow too rapidly for speech. He is “nervous:” hence, when he is alone, and with those he loves, he oftentimes speaks fluently and well; he stammers more both when he is tired, and when he is out of health—when the nerves are either weak or exhausted. He is emotional: when he is either in a passion or in excitement, either of joy or of grief, he can scarcely speak—“he stammers all over.” He is impulsive: he often stammers in consequence. He is in too great a hurry to bring out his words; they do not flow in a proper sequence; hence his words are broken and disjointed.

Stammering, of course, might be owing either to some organic defect, such as from defective palate, or from defective brain, then nothing will cure him; or it might be owing to “nervous” causes—to “irregular nervous action,” then a cure might, with care and perseverance, be usually effected.

In all cases of stammering of a child, let both the palate of his mouth and the bridle of his tongue be carefully examined, to see that neither the palate be defective, nor the bridle of the tongue be too short—that he be not tongue-tied.

_Now, with regard to treatment._ Make him speak slowly and deliberately; let him form each word, without clipping or chopping; let him be made, when you are alone with him, to exercise himself in elocution. If he speak quickly, stop him in his mid-career, and make him, quietly and deliberately, go through the sentence again and again, until he has mastered the difficulty; teach him to collect his thoughts, and to weigh each word ere he give it utterance; practice him in singing little hymns and songs for children; this you will find a valuable help in the cure. A stammerer seldom stutters when he sings. When he sings, he has a full knowledge of the words, and is obliged to keep in time—to sing neither too fast nor too slow. Besides, he sings in a different key to his speaking voice. Many professors for the treatment of stammering cure their patients by practicing lessons of a sing-song character.

Never jeer him for stammering, nor turn him to ridicule; if you do, it will make him ten times worse; but be patient and gentle with him, and endeavor to give him confidence, and encourage him to speak to you as quietly, as gently, and deliberately as you speak to him; tell him not to speak until he has arranged his thoughts and chosen his words; let him do nothing in a hurry.

Demosthenes was said, in his youth, to have stammered fearfully, and to have cured himself by his own prescription, namely, by putting a pebble in his mouth, and declaiming, frequently, slowly, quietly, and deliberately, on the sea-shore—the fishes alone being his audience,—until, at length, he cured himself, and charmed the world with his eloquence and with his elocution. He is held up, to this very day, as the personification and as the model of an orator. His patience, perseverance, and practice ought, by all who either are, or are interested in a stammerer, to be borne in mind and followed.

168. _Do you approve of a carpet in a nursery?_

No; unless it be a small piece for the child to roll upon. A carpet harbors dirt and dust, which dust is constantly floating about the atmosphere, and thus making it impure for him to breathe. The truth of this may easily be ascertained by entering a darkened room, where a ray of sunshine is struggling through a crevice in the shutters. If the floor of a nursery must be covered, let drugget be laid down; as this every morning may be taken up and shaken. The less furniture a nursery contains the better; for much furniture obstructs the free circulation of the air, and, moreover, prevents a child from taking proper exercise in the room.

169. _Supposing there is not a fire in the nursery grate, ought the chimney to be stopped to prevent a draught in the room?_

Certainly not. I consider the use of a chimney to be twofold: first, to carry off the smoke; and secondly (which is of quite as much importance), to ventilate the room, by carrying off the impure air, loaded as it is with carbonic acid gas, the refuse of respiration. The chimney, therefore, should never, either winter or summer, be allowed for one moment to be stopped. This is important advice, and requires the strict supervision of every mother, as servants will, if they have the chance, stop all chimneys that have no fires in the grates.

EXERCISE.

170. _Do you approve, during the summer months, of sending a child out_ BEFORE _breakfast_?

I do, when the weather will permit, and provided the wind be neither in an easterly nor in a northeasterly direction: indeed, _he can scarcely be too much in the open air_. He must not be allowed to stand about draughts or about entries, and the only way to prevent him doing so is for the mother herself to accompany the nurse. She will then kill two birds with one stone, as she will, by doing so, benefit her own as well as her child’s health.

171. _Ought a child to be early put on his feet to walk?_

No: let him learn to walk himself. He ought to be put upon a carpet; and it will be found that when he is strong enough, he will hold by a chair, and will stand alone: when he can do so, and attempts to walk, he should then be supported. You must, on first putting him upon his feet, be guided by his own wishes. He will, as soon as he is strong enough to walk, have the inclination to do so. When he has the inclination and the strength, it will be folly to restrain him; if he has neither the inclination nor the strength, it will be absurd to urge him on. Rely, therefore, to a certain extent, upon the inclination of the child himself. Self-reliance cannot be too early taught him, and, indeed, every one else. In the generality of instances, however, a child is put on his feet too soon, and the bones at that tender age, being very flexible, bend, causing bowed and bandy legs; and the knees, being weak, approximate too closely together, and thus they become knock-kneed.

This advice of _not_ putting a child _early_ on his feet, I must strongly insist on, as so many mothers are so ridiculously ambitious that their young ones should walk early, that they should walk before other children have attempted to do so, have frequently caused the above lamentable deformities!

172. _Do you approve of perambulators?_

I do not, for two reasons: first, because when a child is strong enough, he had better walk as much as he will; and, secondly, the motion is not so good, and the muscles are not so much put in action, and consequently cannot be so well developed, as when he is carried. A perambulator is very apt to make a child stoop, and to make him both crooked and round-shouldered. He is cramped by being so long in one position. It is painful to notice a babe a few months old in one of these new-fangled carriages. His little head is bobbing about, first on one side and then on the other—at one moment it is dropping on his chest, the next it is forcibly jolted behind: he looks, and doubtless feels, wretched and uncomfortable. Again, these perambulators are dangerous in crowded thoroughfares. They are a public nuisance, inasmuch as they are wheeled against and between people’s legs, and are a fruitful source of the breaking of shins, of the spraining of ankles, of the crushing of corns, and of the ruffling of the tempers of the foot-passengers who unfortunately come within their reach; while, in all probability, the gaping nurses are staring another way, and every way indeed but the right!

Besides, in very cold weather, or in a very young infant, the warmth of the nurse’s body, while he is being carried, helps to keep him warm, he himself being naturally cold. In point of fact, the child, while being borne in the nurse’s arms, reposes on the nurse, warm and supported as though he were in a nest! While, on the other hand, if he be in a perambulator, he is cold and unsupported, looking the very picture of misery, seeking everywhere for rest and comfort, and finding none!

A nurse’s arm, then, is the only proper carriage for a _young_ child to take exercise on. She ought to change about, first carrying him on the one arm, and then on the other. Nursing him on one arm only might give his body a twist on one side, and thus might cause deformity.

When he is old enough to walk, and is able properly to support the weight of his own neck and back, then there will be no objection, provided it be not in a crowded thoroughfare, to his riding occasionally in a perambulator; but when he is older still, and can sit either a donkey or a pony, such exercise will be far more beneficial, and will afford him much greater pleasure.

173. _Supposing it to be wet under foot, but dry above, do you then approve of sending a child out?_

If the wind be neither in the east nor the northeast, and if the air be not damp, let him be well wrapped up and be sent out. If he be laboring under an inflammation of the lungs, however slight, or if he be just recovering from one, it would, of course, be highly improper. In the management of a child, we must take care neither to coddle nor to expose him unnecessarily, as both are dangerous.

Never send a child out to walk in a fog; he will, if you do, be almost sure to catch cold. It would be much safer to send him out in the rain than in fog; though neither the one nor the other would be desirable.

174. _How many times a day, in fine weather, ought a child to be sent out?_

Let him be sent out as often as it be possible. If a child lived more in the open air than he is wont to do, he would neither be so susceptible of disease, nor would he suffer so much from teething.

175. _Supposing the day to be wet, what exercise would you then recommend?_

The child ought to run either about a large room or about the hall; and, if it does not rain violently, you should put on his hat and throw up the window, taking care while the window is open that he does not stand still.

Do not on any account allow him to sit any length of time at a table, amusing himself with books, etc.; let him be acting and stirring, that his blood may freely circulate as it ought to do, and that his muscles may be well developed. I would rather see him actively engaged in mischief, than sitting still, doing nothing. He ought to be put on the carpet, and should then be tumbled and rolled about, to make the blood bound merrily through the vessels, to stir up the liver, to promote digestion, and to open the bowels. The misfortune of it is, the present race of nurses are so stuck out with crinoline, that they are not able to stoop properly, and thus to have a good game at romps with their little charges.

176. _Supposing it to be winter, and the weather to be very cold, would you still send a child out?_

Decidedly, provided he be well wrapped up. The cold will brace and strengthen him. Cold weather is the finest tonic in the world.

In frosty weather, the roads being slippery, when you send him out to walk, put a pair of large, old woolen stockings _over_ his boots or shoes. This will not only keep his feet and his legs warm, but it will prevent him from falling down and hurting himself. While thus equipped, he may even walk on a slide of ice without falling down.

A child, in the winter time, requires, to keep him warm, plenty of flannel and plenty of food, plenty of fresh and genuine milk, and plenty of water in his tub to wash him in a morning, plenty of exercise and plenty of play, and then he may brave the frosty air. It is the coddled, the half-washed, and the half-starved child (half-washed and half-starved from either the mother’s ignorance or from the mother’s timidity), that is the chilly starveling,—catching cold at every breath of wind, and every time he either walks or is carried out,—a puny, skinny, scraggy, scare-crow, more dead than alive, and more fit for his grave than for the rough world he will have to struggle in!

AMUSEMENTS.

177. _Have you any remarks to make on the amusements of a child?_

Let the amusements of a child be as much as possible out of doors; let him spend the greater part of every day in the open air; let him exert himself as much as he pleases, his feelings will tell him when to rest and when to begin again; let him be what nature intended him to be—a happy, laughing, joyous child. Do not let him be always poring over books.

“Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife,
Come, hear the woodland linnet!
How sweet his music! On my life
There’s more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,—
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless,—
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood,
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.”

He ought to be encouraged to engage in those sports wherein the greatest number of muscles are brought into play. For instance, to play at ball, or hoop, or football, to play at horses, to run to certain distances and back; and, if a girl, to amuse herself with a skipping-rope, such being excellent exercise—

“By sports like these are all their cares beguiled,—
The sports of children satisfy the child.”

Every child, where it be practicable, should have a small plot of ground to cultivate, that he may dig and delve in, and make dirt-pies if he choose. Children, nowadays, unfortunately, are not allowed to soil their hands and their fine clothes. For my own part, I dislike such model children; let a child be natural—let him, as far as is possible, choose his own sports. Do not be always interfering with his pursuits, and be finding fault with him. Remember, what may be amusing to you may be distasteful to him. I do not, of course, mean but that you should constantly have a watchful eye over him; yet do not let him see that he is under restraint or surveillance; if you do, you will never discover his true character and inclinations. Not only so, but do not dim the bright sunshine of his early life by constantly checking and thwarting him. Tupper beautifully says:

“And check not a child in his merriment,—
Should not his morning be sunny?”

When, therefore, he is either in the nursery or in the play-ground, let him shout and riot and romp about as much as he pleases. His lungs and his muscles want developing, and his nerves require strengthening; and how can such be accomplished unless you allow them to be developed and strengthened by natural means?

The nursery is a child’s own domain; it is his castle, and he should be Lord Paramount therein. If he choose to blow a whistle, or to spring a rattle, or to make any other hideous noise, which to him is sweet music, he should be allowed, without let or hindrance, to do so. If any members of the family have weak nerves, let them keep at a respectful distance.

A child who never gets into mischief must be either sly, or delicate, or idiotic; indeed, the system of many persons in bringing up children is likely to make them either the one or the other. The present plan of training children is nearly all work (books), and very little play. Play, and plenty of it, is necessary to the very existence of a child.

A boy not partial to mischief, innocent mischief, and play, is unnatural; he is a man before his time, he is a nuisance, he is disagreeable to himself and to every one around. “A boy not fond of fun and frolic may possibly make a tolerable man, but he is an intolerable boy.”

Girls, at the present time, are made clever simpletons; their brains are worked with useless knowledge, which totally unfits them for everyday duties. Their muscles are allowed to be idle, which makes them limp and flabby. The want of proper exercise ruins the complexion, and their faces become of the color of a tallow candle! And precious wives and mothers they make when they do grow up! Grow up, did I say. They grow all manner of ways, and are as crooked as crooked sticks!

What an unnatural thing it is to confine a child several hours a day to his lessons; why, you might as well put a colt in harness, and make him work for his living! A child is made for play; his roguish little eye, his lithe figure, his antics, and his drollery, all point out that he is cut out for play—that it is as necessary to his existence as the food he eats, and as the air he breathes!

A child ought not to be allowed to have playthings with which he can injure either himself or others, such as toy-swords, toy-cannons, toy-paint-boxes, knives, bows and arrows, hammers, chisels, saws, etc. He will not only be likely to injure himself and others, but will make sad havoc on furniture, house, and other property. Fun, frolic, and play ought, in all innocent ways, to be encouraged; but willful mischief and dangerous games ought, by every means, to be discountenanced. This advice is frequently much needed, as children prefer to have and delight in dangerous toys, and often coax and persuade weak and indulgent mothers to gratify their wishes.

_Painted_ toys are, many of them, highly dangerous, those painted _green_ especially, as the color generally consists of Scheele’s green—arsenite of copper.

Children’s paint-boxes are very dangerous toys for a child to play with: many of the paints are poisonous, containing arsenic, lead, gamboge, etc., and a child, when painting, is apt to put the brush into his mouth, to absorb the superabundant fluid. Of all the colors, the _green_ paint is the most dangerous, as it is frequently composed of arsenite of copper—arsenic and copper—two deadly poisons.

There are some paint-boxes warranted not to contain a particle of poison of any kind: these ought, for a child, to be chosen by a mother.

But, remember, although he ought not to be allowed to have poison paint-boxes and poison-painted toys, _he must have an abundance of toys_, such as the white-wood toys—brewers’ drays, millers’ wagons, boxes of wooden bricks, etc. The Noah’s Ark is one of the most amusing and instructive toys for a child. “Those fashioned out of brown, unpainted pine-wood by the clever carvers of Nuremberg or the Black Forest are the best, I think, not only because they are the most spirited, but because they will survive a good deal of knocking about, and can be sucked with impunity. From the first dawn of recollection, children are thus familiarized with the forms of natural objects, and may be well up in natural history before they have mastered the A B C.”

Parents often make Sunday a day of gloom: to this I much object. Of all the days in the week, Sunday should be the most cheerful and pleasant. It is considered by our Church a festival; and a glorious festival it ought to be made, and one on which our Heavenly Father wishes to see all His children happy and full of innocent joy! Let Sunday, then, be made a cheerful, joyous, innocently happy day, and not, as it frequently is, the most miserable and dismal in the week. It is my firm conviction that many men have been made irreligious by the ridiculously strict and dismal way they were compelled, as children, to spend their Sundays. You can no more make children religious by gloomy asceticism, than you can make people good by Act of Parliament!

One of the great follies of the present age is, children’s parties, where they are allowed to be dressed like grown-up women, stuck out in crinoline, and encouraged to eat rich cake and pastry, and to drink wine, and to sit up late at night! There is something disgusting and demoralizing in all this. Their pure minds are blighted by it. Do not let me be misunderstood: there is not the least objection, but, on the contrary, great advantage, for friends’ children to meet friends’ children; but then let them be treated as children, and not as men and women!

178. _Do you approve of public play-grounds for children?_

It would be well, in every village, and in the outskirts of every town, if a large plot of ground were set apart for children to play in, and to go through regular gymnastic exercises. Play is absolutely necessary to a child’s very existence, as much as food and sleep; but in many parts of England where is he to have it? Play-grounds and play are the best schools we have; they teach a great deal not taught elsewhere; they give lessons in health, which is the grandest wealth that can be bestowed—“for health is wealth;” they prepare the soil for the future school-master; they clear the brain, and thus the intellect; they strengthen the muscles; they make the blood course merrily through the arteries; they bestow healthy food for the lungs; they give an appetite; they make a child, in due time, become every inch a man! Play-grounds and play are one of the finest Institutions we possess. What would our large public schools be without their play and cricket-grounds? The would be shorn of half their splendor and usefulness.

There is so much talk nowadays about _useful_ knowledge, that the importance of play and play-grounds is likely to be forgotten. I cannot help thinking, however, that a better state of things is dawning. “It seems to be found out that in our zeal for useful knowledge, that knowledge is found to be not the least useful which treats boys as active, stirring, aspiring, and ready.”

EDUCATION.

179. _Do you approve of infant schools?_

I do, if the arrangements be such that health is preferred before learning. “According to Aristotle, more care should be taken of the body than of the mind for the first seven years; strict attention to diet be enforced, etc.... The eye and ear of the child be most watchfully and severely guarded against contamination of every kind, and unrestrained communication with servants be strictly prevented. Even his amusements should be under due regulation, and rendered as interesting and intellectual as possible.” Let children be only confined for three or four hours a day, and let what little they learn be taught as an amusement rather than as a labor. A play-ground ought to be attached to an infants’ school: where in fine weather, for every half hour they spend in-doors, they should spend one in the open air; and, in wet weather, they ought to have, in lieu of the play-ground, a large room to romp, and shout, and riot in. To develop the different organs, muscles, and other parts of the body, children require fresh air, a free use of their lungs, active exercise, and their bodies to be thrown into all manner of attitudes. Let a child mope in a corner, and he will become stupid and sickly. The march of intellect, as it is called, or rather the double quick march of intellect, as it should be called, has stolen a march upon health. Only allow the march of intellect and the march of health to take equal strides, and then we shall have “_mens sana in corpore sano_” (a sound mind in a sound body).

In the education of a young child, it is better to instruct him by illustration and by encouraging observation on things around and about him, than by books. It is surprising how much, without endangering the health, may be taught in this way. In educating your child, be careful to instill and to form good habits—they will then stick to him for life.

Children at the present day are too highly educated—their brains are overtaxed, and thus weakened. The consequence is, that as they grow up to manhood, if they grow up at all, they become fools! _Children_ are now taught what formerly _youths_ were taught. The chord of a child’s life is ofttimes snapped asunder in consequence of overeducation:

“Screw not the chord too sharply, lest it snap.”

You should treat a child as you would a young colt. Think only at first of strengthening his body. Let him have a perfectly free, happy life, plenty of food to eat, abundance of air to breathe, and no work to do; there is plenty of time to think of his learning—of giving him brain work. It will come sadly too soon; but do not make him old before his time.

180. _At what age do you advise my child to begin his course of education—to have his regular lessons?_

In the name of the prophet,—Figs! Fiddlesticks! about courses of education and regular lessons for a child! You may as well ask me when he, a child, is to begin Hebrew, the Sanscrit, and Mathematics! Let him have a course of education in play; let him go through regular lessons in football, bandy, playing at tic, hares and hounds, and such like excellent and really useful and health-giving lessons. Begin his lessons! Begin brain-work, and make an idiot of him! Oh! for shame, ye mothers! You who pretend to love your children so much, and to tax, otherwise to injure, irreparably to injure their brains, and thus their intellects and their health, and to shorten their very days. And all for what? To make prodigies of them! Forsooth! to make fools of them in the end.

181. _Well, then, as you have such a great objection to a child commencing his education early in life, at what age may he, with safety, commence his lessons? and which do you prefer—home or school education?_

Home is far preferable to a school education for a child. If at home, he is under your own _immediate_ observation, and is not liable to be contaminated by naughty children; for, in every school, there is necessarily a great mixture of the good and of the bad; and a child, unfortunately, is more likely to be led by a bad than by a good child.

Moreover, if the child be educated at home, the mother can see that his brain be not overworked. At school the brain is apt to be overworked, and the stomach, and the muscles to be underworked.

Remember, as above stated, _the brain must have but very little work until the child be seven years old_: impress this advice upon your memory, and let no foolish ambition to make your child a clever child allow you, for one moment, to swerve from this advice.

Build up a strong, healthy body, and in due time the brain will bear a _moderate_ amount of intellectual labor.

As I have given _you_ so much advice, permit me, for one moment, to address a word to the father of your child:

Let me advise _you_, then, Mr. _Paterfamilias_, to be careful how you converse, what language you use, while in the company of your child. Bear in mind, a child is very observant, and thinks much, weighs well, and seldom forgets all you say and all you do! Let no hasty word, then, and more especially no oath, or no impious language, ever pass your lips, if your child is within hearing. It is, of course, at all times wicked to swear; but it is heinously and unpardonably sinful to swear in the presence of your child! “Childhood is like a mirror, catching and reflecting images. One impious or profane thought, uttered by a parent’s lip, may operate upon the young heart like a careless spray of water thrown upon polished steel, staining it with rust, which no after-scouring can efface.”

Never talk secrets before a child—“little pitchers have long ears;” if you do, and he discloses your secrets,—as most likely he will,—and thus make mischief, it will be cruel to scold him; you will, for your imprudence, have yourself only to blame. Be most careful, then, in the presence of your child, of what you say and of whom you speak. This advice, if followed, might save a great deal of annoyance and vexation.

182. _Are you an advocate for a child being taught singing?_

I am; I consider singing a part of a child’s education. Singing expands the walls of the chest, strengthens and invigorates the lungs, gives sweetness to the voice, improves the pronunciation, and is a great pleasure and amusement to a child.

SLEEP.

183. _Do you approve of a child sleeping on a_ FEATHER _bed_?

A _feather_ bed enervates his body, and, if he be so predisposed, causes rickets, and makes him crooked. A horse-hair mattress is the best for a child to lie on. The pillow, too, should be made of horse-hair. A _feather_ pillow often causes the head to be bathed in perspiration, thus enervating the child and making him liable to catch cold. If he be at all rickety, if he be weak in the neck, if he be inclined to stoop, or if he be at all crooked, let him, by all means, lie without a pillow.

184. _Do you recommend a child, in the middle of the day, to be put to sleep?_

Let him be put on his mattress _awake_ at twelve o’clock, that he may sleep for an hour or two before dinner, then he will rise both refreshed and strengthened for the remainder of the day. I said, let him be put down _awake_. He might, for the first few times, cry; but, by perseverance, he will without any difficulty fall to sleep. The practice of sleeping before dinner ought to be continued until he be two years old, and if he can be prevailed upon, even longer. For if he do not have sleep in the middle of the day, he will all the afternoon and the evening be cross; and when he does go to bed, he will probably be too tired to sleep, or his nerves, having been exhausted by the long wakefulness, he will fall into a troubled, broken slumber, and not into that sweet, soft, gentle repose, so characteristic of healthy, happy childhood!

185. _At what hour ought a child to be put to bed in the evening?_

At six in the winter, and at seven o’clock in the summer. _Regularity_ ought to be observed, as _regularity is very conducive to health_. It is a reprehensible practice to keep a child up until nine or ten o’clock at night. If this be done, he will, before his time, become old, and the seeds of disease will be sown.

As soon as he can run, let him be encouraged, for half an hour before he goes to bed, to race either about the hall, or the landing, or a large room, which will be the best means of warming his feet, of preventing chilblains, and of making him sleep soundly.

186. _Have you any directions to give me as to the placing of my child in his bed?_

If a child lie alone, place him fairly on his side in the middle of the bed; if it be winter time, see that his arms and hands be covered with the bedclothes; if it be summer, his hands might be allowed to be outside the clothes.

In putting him down to sleep, you should ascertain that his face be not covered with the bedclothes; if it be, he will be poisoned with his own breath—the breath constantly giving off carbonic acid gas; which gas must, if his face be smothered in the clothes, be breathed—carbonic acid gas being highly poisonous.

You can readily prove the existence of carbonic acid gas in the breathing, by simply breathing into a little lime-water; after breathing for a few seconds into it, a white film will form on the top; the carbonic acid gas from the breath unites with the lime of the lime-water, and the product of the white film is carbonate of lime.

187. _Do you advise a bed-room to be darkened at night?_

Certainly. A child sleeps sounder and sweeter in a dark than in a light room. There is nothing better, for the purpose of darkening a bed-room, than Venetian blinds.

Remember, then, a well-ventilated, but a darkened chamber at night. The cot or the crib ought _not_ to face the window, “as the light is best behind.” [Sir Charles Locock in a _Letter_ to the Author.]

188. _Which is the best position for a child when sleeping—on his back, or on his side?_

His side. He ought to be accustomed to change about—on the right side one night, on the left another; and occasionally, for a change, he should lie on his back. By adopting this plan you will not only improve his figure, but likewise his health. Lying, night after night, in one position, would be likely to make him crooked.

189. _Do you advise, in the winter time, that there should be a fire in the night nursery?_

Certainly not, unless the weather be intensely cold. I dislike fires in bed-rooms, especially for children; they are very enervating, and make a child liable to catch cold. Cold weather is very bracing, particularly at night. “Generally speaking,” says the _Siecle_, “during winter, apartments are too much heated. The temperature in them ought not to exceed 16° Centigrade (59° Fahrenheit); and even in periods of great cold, scientific men declare that 12° or 14° had better not be exceeded. In the wards of hospitals, and in the chambers of the sick, care is taken not to have greater heat than 15°. Clerks in offices, and other persons of sedentary occupations, when the rooms in which they sit are too much heated, are liable to cerebral [brain] congestion and to pulmonary [lung] complaints. In bed-rooms, and particularly those of children, the temperature ought to be maintained rather low; it is even prudent only rarely to make fires in them, especially during the night.”

“If a cold stable make a healthy horse,” I am quite sure that a moderately cold and well-ventilated bed-room helps to make a healthy child. But still, in the winter time, if the weather be biting cold, a _little_ fire in the bed-room grate is desirable. In bringing up children, we must never run into extremes—the coddling system and the hardening system are both to be deprecated; the coddling system will make a strong child weakly, while the hardening system will probably kill a delicate one.

A child’s bed ought, of course, to be comfortably clothed with blankets—I say blankets, as they are much superior to coverlids; the perspiration will more readily pass through a blanket than a coverlid. A _thick_ coverlid ought never to be used; there is nothing better for a child’s bed than the old-fashioned patch-work coverlid, as the perspiration will easily escape through it.

190. _Should a child be washed and dressed_ AS SOON AS HE AWAKES _in the morning?_

He ought, if he awakes in anything like reasonable time; for if he doze after he be once awake, such slumber does him more harm than good. He should be up every morning as soon as it is light. If, as a child, he be taught to rise early, it will make him an early riser for life, and will tend greatly to prolong both his existence and his happiness.

_Never awake a child from his sleep_ to dress him, to give him medicine, or for any other purpose; _let him always sleep as long as he can_; but the moment he awakes let him be held out, and then let him be washed and dressed, and do not wait, as many a silly nurse does, until he has wet his bed, until his blood be chilled, and until he be cross, miserable, and uncomfortable! How many babies are made ill by such foolish practices!

The moment he leaves his bed, turn back to the fullest extent the clothes, in order that they may be thoroughly ventilated and sweetened. They ought to be exposed to the air for at least an hour before the bed be made. As soon as he leaves his room, be it winter or summer, throw open the windows.

191. _Ought a child to lie alone?_

He should after he is weaned. He will rest more comfortably, and his sleep will be more refreshing.

192. _Supposing a child should not sleep well, what ought to be done? Would you give him a dose of composing medicine?_

Certainly not. Try the effect of exercise. Exercise in the open air is the best composing medicine in the world. Let the little fellow be well tired out, and there will be little fear of his not sleeping.

193. _Have you any further observations to make on the subject of sleep?_

Send a child joyful to bed. Do not, if you can possibly help it, let him go to bed crying. Let the last impressions he has at night be of his happy home, and of his loving father and mother, and let his last thoughts be those of joy and gladness. He will sleep all the sounder if he be sent to bed in such a frame of mind, and he will be more refreshed and nourished in the morning by his sleep.

194. _What is the usual cause of a child walking in his sleep, and what measures, during such times, ought to be adopted to prevent his injuring himself?_

A disordered stomach in a child of nervous temperament is usually the cause. The means to be adopted to prevent his throwing himself out of the window are to have bars to his chamber casement, and if that be not practicable, to have either nails or screws driven into the window-sash to allow the window to open only for a sufficient space for ventilation, and to have a screw window-fastening, in order that he cannot, without difficulty, open the window; to have a trusty person to sleep in his room, who should have directions given not to rouse him from his sleep, but to gently lead him back to his bed, which may frequently be done without awaking him; and to consult a medical man, who will adopt means to put his stomach into order, to brace his nerves, and to strengthen his general system. A trip to the coast and sea bathing, in such a case, is often of great service.

SECOND DENTITION.

195. _When does a child begin to cut his_ SECOND _set of teeth_?

Generally at seven years old. He _begins_ to _cut_ them at about that time; but it should be borne in mind (so wonderful are the works of God) that the _second_ crop of teeth _in embryo_ is actually bred and formed from the very commencement of his life, _under_ the first tier of teeth, but which remain in abeyance for years, and do not come into play until the _first_ teeth, having done their duty, loosen and fall out, and thus make room for _the_ more numerous, larger, stronger, and more permanent teeth, which latter have to last for the remainder of his existence. The _first_ set is sometimes cut with a great deal of difficulty, and produces various disease; the _second_, or permanent teeth, come easily, and are unaccompanied with any disorder. The following is the process: one after another of the _first_ set gradually loosen, and either drop out, or with little pain are readily pulled out; under these, the _second_—the permanent teeth—make their appearance, and fill up the vacant spaces. The fang of the tooth that has dropped out is nearly all absorbed or eaten away, leaving little more than the crown. The _first_ set consists of twenty; the _second_ (including the wise teeth, which are not generally cut until after the age of twenty-seven) consists of thirty-two.

I would recommend you to pay particular attention to the teeth of your children; for, besides their being ornamental, their regularity and soundness are of great importance to the present as well as to the future health of your offspring. If there be any irregularity in the appearance of the _second_ set, lose no time in consulting an experienced and respectable dentist.

DISEASE, ETC.

196. _Do you think it important that I should be made acquainted with the symptoms of the_ SERIOUS _diseases of children_?

Certainly. I am not advocating the doctrine of a mother _treating serious_ diseases; far from it; it is not her province, except in certain cases of extreme urgency where a medical man cannot be procured, and where delay might be death; but I do insist upon the necessity of her knowing the _symptoms_ of disease. My belief is, that if parents were better informed on such subjects, many children’s lives might be saved, much suffering might be averted, and much sorrow might be spared. The fact is, the knowledge of the symptoms of disease is, to a mother, almost a sealed book. If she were better acquainted with these matters, how much more useful would she be in a sick-room, and how much more readily would she enter into the plans and views of the medical man! By her knowledge of the symptoms, and by having his advice in time, she would nip disease in the bud, and the fight might end in favor of life, for “sickness is just a fight between life and death.”

It is really lamentable to contemplate the amount of ignorance that still exists among mothers in all that appertains to the diseases of children; although, fortunately, they are beginning to see and to feel the importance of gaining instruction on such subjects; but the light is only dawning. A writer of the present day makes the following remarks, which somewhat bear on the subject in question. He observes: “In spite of the knowledge and clear views possessed by the profession on all that concerns the management of children, no fact is more palpable than that the most grievous ignorance and incompetency prevail respecting it among the public. We want some means of making popular the knowledge which is now almost restricted to medical men, or at most, to the well-educated classes.”

In the earlier editions of this work, I did not give the _treatment_ of any serious diseases, however urgent. In the three last editions I have been induced, for reasons I will presently state, to give the _treatment_ of some of the more urgent _serious_ diseases, when a medical man cannot instantly be procured, and where delay might be death.

Sir Charles Locock, who has taken a kind interest in this little work, has given me valid reasons why a mother should be so enlightened. The following extracts are from a letter which I received from Sir Charles on the subject, and which he has courteously allowed me to publish. He says: “As an old physician of some experience in complaints of infants and children, I may perhaps be allowed to suggest that in a future edition you should add a few words on the actual treatment of some of the more urgent infantile diseases. It is very right to caution parents against superseding the doctor, and attempting to manage serious illness themselves; but your advice, with very small exceptions, always being to ‘to lose no time in sending for a medical man,’ much valuable and often irremediable time may be lost _when a medical man is not to be had_. Take, for instance, a case of croup: there are no directions given at all, except to send for a medical man, and always to keep medicines in the house which he may have directed. But how can this apply to a first attack? You state that a first attack is generally the worst. But why is it so? Simply because it often occurs when the parents do not recognize it, and it is allowed to get to a worse point than in subsequent attacks, when they are thoroughly alive to it. As the very best remedy, and often the only essential one, if given early, is a full emetic, surely it is better that you should give some directions as to this in a future edition, and I can speak from my own experience when I say that an emetic, _given in time_, and repeated to free vomiting, will cut short any case of croup. In nine cases out of ten the attack takes place in the evening or early night, and when vomiting is effected the dinner of that day is brought up nearly undigested, and the severity of the symptoms at once cut short. Whenever any remedy is valuable, the more by its being administered _in time_, it is surely wiser to give directions as to its use, although, as a general rule, it is much better to advise the sending for medical advice.”

The above reasons, coming from such a learned and experienced physician as Sir Charles Locock, are conclusive, and have decided me to comply with his advice, to enlighten a mother on the _treatment_ of some of the more urgent diseases of infants and of children.

In a subsequent letter addressed to myself, Sir Charles has given me the names of those _urgent_ diseases which he considers may be treated by a mother, “where a medical man cannot be procured quickly, or not at all;” they are—Croup; Inflammation of the Lungs; Diphtheria; Dysentery; Diarrhœa; Hooping-Cough, in its various stages; and Shivering Fit. Sir Charles sums up his letter to me by saying: “Such a book ought to be made as complete as possible, and the objections to medical treatment being so explained as to induce mothers to try to avoid medical men is not so serious as that of leaving them without any guide in those instances where every delay is dangerous, and yet where medical assistance is not to be obtained or not to be had quickly.”

In addition to the above, I shall give you the _treatment_ of Bronchitis, Measles, and Scarlet Fever. Bronchitis is one of the most common diseases incidental to childhood, and, with judicious treatment, is, in the absence of the medical man, readily managed by a sensible mother. Measles is very submissive to treatment. Scarlet Fever, _if it be not malignant_, and if certain rules be strictly followed, is also equally amenable to treatment.