babies, to whom, in consequence of a serious inflammation occurring
within a few days after birth, the light of the world may be taken
away from them, almost, indeed, before their eyes have opened to
it. The disease is principally, but by no means exclusively found
among the poorer people; and as it is among them that ignorance
mostly prevails, the direst results are most frequently witnessed.
The affection—setting-in a few days after birth—is characterised by
a discharge of matter from the eyes, and attended with redness and
swelling, generally, of the eyelids. Whilst on the one hand it must be
strongly urged that such a condition is a serious one, on the other
it must be equally recognised that if treated sufficiently early it
is amenable to remedies. No mother of a babe should, on noticing the
appearances indicated, delay sending for or taking her child to a
medical man. The grossest ignorance, however, prevails among mothers
and those surrounding them, as to the gravity of this affection, at
the time and after the births of their children. The writer in his
medical practice experiences few circumstances more sad, and calculated
to harrow one’s feelings more keenly, than for a baby to be brought
for the first medical treatment when the disease has already wrought
such havoc as to render a cure an improbability, and too often an
impossibility. Such instances are of frequent occurrence in hospital
practice. Dr Emrys-Jones some time ago collected statistics as to the
condition of the eyes when brought for treatment at the Manchester
Royal Eye Hospital; and he found six and a quarter per cent. of the
eyes were hopelessly lost, in some cases both eyes, in others one
only. There is, moreover, an amazing degree of careless indifference
displayed, and when a case in a wretched condition is seen by a medical
man for the first time at the end of one, two, or three weeks after the
onset of the affection, to the question, ‘What have you been doing all
this time for the baby’s eyes?’ will come the reply: ‘Why, nothing,
sir;’ as if a special virtue lay in a negative answer.
The importance of preventing blindness being caused by this disease
will be evident, when it is asserted that a third or more of all cases
in the blind schools of England have been occasioned by it. Nor,
indeed, does this in any manner show its entire effects; for those
who have only lost one eye through it, would, of course, be omitted
from calculation, as well as those whose vision had been affected in
a less degree. On the continent, the proportion would appear to be
equally large. In Germany, Reinhard, from investigations at twenty-two
German blind asylums, found six hundred and fifty-eight blind from
this disease among a total of twenty-one hundred and sixty-five, or
thirty and a half per cent. Observations among our own institutions
would appear to represent as large or a larger percentage of cases.
The writer has kept a record of children admitted into a teaching
institution with which he is connected, and the number in his notebook
is sixty-two. Of this number he excludes seven, as either not having
been examined by him, or the cause of blindness not verified; but of
the remaining fifty-five, in no fewer than twenty-one is this affection
distinctly traceable as the cause of blindness. This gives a percentage
of about thirty-nine. No words, it would appear, can be necessary to
add to the telling effect of such figures.
It must be recollected, moreover, that the blind are not only shut
off from the pleasures of this world, but their unhappy lot too
frequently renders them a necessary burden on their more fortunate
sight-possessing fellows. It is desirable that a knowledge of the
dreadful results following a neglect of this disease should be
impressed upon the community. The results mentioned comparatively
seldom occur among the well-to-do, for the reason that the doctor is
in immediate attendance, and under skilful treatment the affection
is cured; but, however, by extending information on this subject, it
will, it is hoped, reach the less fortunately situated. A comprehensive
plan for attaining such an object was introduced to the notice of the
Ophthalmological Society of the United Kingdom, by Dr David M‘Keown of
Manchester. He proposed to utilise the poor-law and birth registration
organisations. Such a plan would enable every mother of new-born
infants to have read to her, and to be put in possession of, or of
whoever may be in attendance, a card specifying the characters and
dangers of the disease; and again, as the birth of every child has to
be registered within a certain number of days, another opportunity
would be afforded for giving a card with the desired information. The
card, it was proposed, should run in this way: ‘_Instructions regarding
new-born infants._—If the child’s eyelids become red and swollen, or
begin to run matter within a few days after birth, it is to be taken
without a day’s delay to a doctor. The disease is very dangerous; and
if not at once treated, may destroy the sight of both eyes.’
The Society, on the Report of its Committee on this subject, adopted,
with slight modifications, the series of resolutions suggested by
Dr M‘Keown. The first resolution of the Society, and which chiefly
concerns us here, was as follows: ‘That the purulent ophthalmia of
new-born infants being the cause of a vast amount of blindness,
mainly because of the ignorance of the public regarding its dangerous
character, and the consequent neglect to apply for timely medical
aid, it is desirable to instruct those in charge of new-born children
by a card’ (as previously mentioned). This is to be distributed, the
resolution adds, by the poor-law and birth registration organisations
of the United Kingdom; and details the methods to be adopted for
carrying the plan into operation. In a subsequent resolution, the aid
of the medical press is solicited, and the attention of the various
institutions which train or employ midwives is drawn to this very
important subject.
These resolutions, as it has been said, were adopted by the
Ophthalmological Society; and they were desired to be communicated to
the Presidents of the Local Government Board, and of similar bodies in
Scotland and Ireland. A deputation also was appointed to wait upon the
Presidents of these bodies, if necessary, to urge the desirability of
the plan sketched out being put into practice; and among other members
of this deputation were Sir William Bowman, and the President (Mr
Jonathan Hutchinson) of the Society.
It is very much to be hoped that the action of such an influential
Society will have a good effect. It clearly puts the gravity of the
case before the public; and any individual who can in any way spread
the knowledge contained in the foregoing Report will be engaged in a
really good cause.
For some time, the Society for the Prevention of Blindness has issued
and circulated a leaflet entitled, ‘Advice to Mothers who do not wish
their Children to be Blind.’ It contains sound directions as to the
nature of the disease, its recognition, and hints as to what should
be done whilst the doctor is being fetched, which should, however, be
by no means delayed. Any one interested in the welfare of the blind,
and wishing for further information as to the objects of the Society,
should communicate with Dr Roth, Secretary, 48 Wimpole Street, London,
W.
The object the writer has had in view in this article has been to draw
attention to this affection of babies’ eyes, and to enforce the urgent
necessity for prompt and proper treatment. He has not inserted any
directions as to remedies parents may themselves employ, because it
is essentially a disease that no one but a medical man should treat,
and parents should be encouraged to apply at once for relief. For
the very poor, in every town is a hospital or dispensary, to which
the infant can be taken. The better-to-do should seek the services of
their own doctor. Whilst saying this, however, it may be observed that
cleanliness is of the greatest importance; and this should be regarded
both as to the infant’s surroundings and also as to the eyes, in
cleansing them with _clean_ tepid water frequently, of all discharge;
and this requires to be done very gently. At the time of the birth of
the baby, also, the eyes are the first parts that should be washed
clean, and not left until the last, as is not unfrequently the case. If
this were done, the disease in many cases would be prevented.
PARLIAMENTARY TITBITS.
Edmund Burke, the distinguished orator and writer, at the close of an
election in 1774, in an eloquent speech, thanked his constituents for
electing him as their member. He was followed by his colleague, Mr
Cruger, a merchant, who, after the orator’s remarks, contented himself
by exclaiming: ‘Gentlemen, I say ditto to Mr Burke!’
Two stories are told of Lord Brougham. On being offered the post of
Chief Baron of the Exchequer, Brougham refused it, alleging that its
acceptance would prevent the continuance of his parliamentary duties.
‘True,’ rejoined Canning; ‘but you will be only one stage from the
woolsack.’—‘Yes,’ said Brougham; ‘but the horses will be off.’
The second is contained in a remark of Sydney Smith, who, seeing
Brougham in a carriage on the panel of which was the letter B.
surmounted by a coronet, observed: ‘There goes a carriage with a B
outside and a wasp inside.’
Lord Erskine had the following unique form of replying to begging
letters: ‘Sir—I feel honoured by your application, and I beg to
subscribe’—here the recipient had to turn over the leaf—‘myself, your
very obedient servant.’
Lord Palmerston’s good-humour as a distinct element of his character is
well known. We find it even during his last illness, when his physician
was forced to mention death. ‘Die, my dear doctor!’ he exclaimed;
‘that’s the _last_ thing I shall do.’
When Shiel had learned by heart, but failed to remember, the exordium
of a speech beginning with the word ‘Necessity,’ which he repeated
three times, Sir Robert Peel continued: ‘Is not _always_ the mother of
invention.’
Some good sayings are attributed to George Selwyn, who was called ‘the
receiver-general of wit and stray jokes,’ and was a silent member of
parliament for many years. When told that Sir Joshua Reynolds intended
to stand for parliament, Selwyn replied: ‘Sir Joshua is the ablest man
I know on a canvas.’
Horace Walpole, when complaining one day of the existence of the same
indecision, irresolution, and want of system, in the reign of George
III. as had been witnessed in that of Queen Anne, remarked concerning
the continuance of the Duke of Newcastle as First Lord of the Treasury
after the accession of George III.: ‘There is nothing new under the
sun.’—‘Nor under the grandson,’ added Selwyn, George III. being the
grandson of George II.
George III. one day alluded to Selwyn as ‘that rascal George;’ on which
Selwyn asked: ‘What does that mean?’ Immediately adding: ‘Oh, I forgot;
it is one of the hereditary titles of the Georges.’
The Duke of Cumberland on asking Selwyn how a horse he had lately
purchased answered, received the reply: ‘I really don’t know; I have
never asked him a question.’
When it was proposed at one time to tax coals instead of iron, Sheridan
objected to the proposal on the ground that ‘it would be a jump from
the frying-pan into the fire.’
Many other examples might be given of Sheridan’s wit; we shall mention
three. On meeting one day two royal dukes, one of them said that
they had just been discussing whether Sheridan were a greater fool
than knave. The wit, placing himself between them, quickly replied:
‘Why, faith, I believe I’m between the two.’ His son said that were
he in parliament, he would write on his forehead, ‘To let.’—‘Add
“unfurnished,”’ suggested the father. On another occasion, when asked
by his tailor for at least the interest of his bill, Sheridan replied:
‘It is not my interest to pay the principal, nor my principle to pay
the interest.’
With this last we may compare Talleyrand’s method in dealing with
creditors. When asked by one when he should receive payment, the only
answer given was: ‘_Ma foi_, how inquisitive you are!’
We shall draw this paper to a close by quoting from _The Anecdotal
History of Parliament_ the following:
‘_An Irish Election Bill._—The following bill was sent by an innkeeper
at Trim to Sir Mark Somerville, who had given an order that all persons
who voted for him in a contested election for Meath should be boarded
and lodged at his expense. The bill, it is said, is still kept in a
frame at the family seat.
_April 16, 1826._
MY BILL—
To eating 16 freeholders above-stairs for Sir Marks, at 3s. 3d. a
head, is to me £2, 12s.
To eating 16 more below-stairs, and 2 priests after supper, is to
me, £2, 15s. 9d.
To 6 beds in one room, and 4 in a nother at 2 guineas every bed,
and not more than four in any bed, at any time cheap enough, God
knows, is to me, £22, 15s.
To 18 horses and 5 mules about my yard all night at 13s. every one
of them, and for a man which was lost on the head of watching them
all night, is to me, £5, 5s.
For breakfast on tay in the morning for every one of them and as
many more as they brought, as near as I can guess, £4, 12s.
To raw whisky and punch, without talking of pipes, tobacco, as well
as for porter, and as well as for breaking a pot above-stairs and
other glasses and delf for the first day and night, I am not sure,
but for the three days and a half of the election as little as I
can call it, and to be very exact, it is all or thereabouts as near
as I can guess, and not to be too particular, is to me at least,
£79, 15s. 9d.
For shaving and cropping off the heads of the 49 freeholders for
Sir Marks, at 13d. for every head of them by my brother had a wote,
is to me, £2, 13s. 1d. For a womit and a nurse for poor Tom Kernan
in the middle of the night, when he was not expected, is to me ten
hogs.
I don’t talk of the piper, or for keeping him sober as long as he
was sober, is to me, £0.
THE TOTAL.
2 12 0 0
2 15 0 9 Signed
22 15 0 0 in the place of JEMMY CARS wife
5 5 0 0 his
4 12 0 0 BRYAN × GARRATY
79 15 0 9 Mark.
2 13 0 1
10 10
0 0
£110, 18s. 7d.,
you may say £111, 0s. 0d. So your Honour, Sir Marks, send me this
eleven hundred by Bryan himself, who and I prays for your success
always in Trim, and no more at present.’
BREAD FROM THE BARK OF THE FIR-TREE.
The present century is marked by a great social improvement in the
position of the lower or working classes; the days of famine, from
which they suffered so severely, have passed away, and they can now
rely upon bread made wholly from corn, free from husk and chaff, and
of that fine quality which a century ago was a luxury only indulged in
by the upper or wealthier classes. This improvement has been brought
about by a fuller cultivation of the land and by a general development
of trade—great social changes which are the spirit or essence of
civilisation.
In England, the white bread of the poor man is a thing of this century;
whole-meal or brown-bread, barley-bread, and oatcake being their old
form of food.
In the last century, when the wood-trade of the Baltic was confined
to the Russian ports, the now thriving towns in the Gulf of Bothnia
were poor fishing-villages, and the bread of the people was commonly
made from the inner bark of the fir-tree. Their staple grain was oats
and rye; but in time of scarcity, bark-bread was used; at other times,
bark-meal was mixed with corn-meal, as a matter of economy. As the
making of bark-bread may now be termed a lost art, we propose to give a
few notes upon it, which cannot fail to be of interest to the general
reader.
Until recently, the making of bark-bread from the fir-tree was common
in the north of Sweden and Norway and in the north-western parts of
Finland. The bark was stripped from the trees in the spring, the only
time of the year it is easily removable; that of the trunk of large
trees was most preferred, as it was less strong than the bark of
small trees or branches. Linnæus, the great naturalist, when passing
through the woods of Helsingland, in Sweden, in 1732, says: ‘The common
and spruce firs grow here to a very large size. The inhabitants had
stripped almost every tree of its bark.’ The outer or hard scaly bark
was carefully removed, as the inner bark was the only part required.
The bark was then dried in the sun, and stored for winter use, a
season that embraces six or seven months of the year. Preparatory to
grinding, the bark was rendered friable, thick, and porous by being
warmed over a slow fire. It was then in part given to their swine in
a granulated form, by way of economising corn, the swine by this food
being rendered extremely fat. Other parts were cut up obliquely and
given to their cows, goats, and sheep. When ground, this bark-meal, as
it was called, was stored in barrels.
The following is an old recipe for making it into bread: ‘The meal
is moistened with cold water into a paste or dough, without being
allowed to go into a state of fermentation, and without any yeast.
Cold water is preferred to warm, the latter rendering the dough too
brittle. The dough being of a soft consistence, is then well kneaded
on a table. A handful is sufficient to make one cake, though no person
would suppose that so small a quantity could make so large a cake as
afterwards appears. This lump of dough is spread out on a flat table,
not with a rolling-pin, but with the hands, and a flat trowel or
shovel; a considerable quantity of flour is sprinkled over the surface,
and the whole mass is extended until it becomes as thin as a skin of
parchment. It is then turned by means of a very large shovel, after
being previously pricked all over with an instrument made on purpose,
and composed of a large handful of the wing feathers of ptarmigan,
partridge, or some such birds. The other side, when turned uppermost,
is subsequently pricked in the same manner. The cake is then put
into the oven, only one being ever baked at a time. The attendance
of a person is necessary to watch the cake, and move or lift it up
occasionally, that it may not burn. Much time, indeed, is not required
for the baking. When sufficiently done, the cake is hung over some kind
of rail, and the two sides hang down parallel to each other. Other
cakes when baked are hung near to, or over, the first. When the whole
are finished, they are laid by one upon another in a large heap, until
wanted.’
The dough was said to be more compact than barley, and almost as much
so as rye; but the bread was noted as being rather bitter in taste.
Mr Laing, in his _Journal of a Residence in Norway_, states that he had
been disposed to doubt the use of fir-bark for bread; but he found it
more extensive than is generally supposed. In Norway, it is the custom
to kiln-dry oats to such a degree that both the grain and the husks
are made into a meal almost as fine as wheaten flour. In bad seasons,
the inner bark of young Scotch pines is kiln-dried in a similar manner
to the oats, and ground along with them, so as to add to the quantity
of the meal. The present dilapidated state of the forests in districts
which formerly supplied wood for exportation, is ascribed to the great
destruction of young trees for this purpose in the year 1812. The bread
baked of the oat and pine meal is said to be very good. It is made in
the form of ‘flat cakes, covering the bottom of a girdle or frying-pan,
and as thin as a sheet of paper, being put on the girdle in nearly a
fluid state.’ When used at table, these cakes are made crisp by being
warmed a little.
It would appear that the inner bark of the silver birch-tree is also
used for grinding into bark-meal. Loudon says in his _Arboretum
Britannicum_: ‘In Kamtschatka, the inner bark of the birch is dried and
ground, like that of the Scotch pine, in order to mix it with oatmeal,
in times of scarcity. It is also said to be eaten in small pieces
along with the roe of fish.’ The Rev. Dr Brewer, in his _Dictionary of
Phrase and Fable_, says: ‘In the fifteenth century, Christopher III. of
Scandinavia, in a time of great scarcity, had the bark of birch wood
mixed with meal for food, from which circumstance he was called “The
King of Bark.”’
It is quite clear that the birch is wholesome, for in the Baltic
Provinces it is customary for women in the streets to sell birch-sap in
pails to the cry of _birk vatten_ (birch-water); and we are told in the
_Penny Cyclopædia_ that ‘during the siege of Hamburg by the Russians in
1814, almost all the birch-trees in the neighbourhood were destroyed by
the Boshkirs and other barbarian soldiers in the Russian service, by
being tapped for their sap.’
In the old home of bark-bread, wheat and oats are practically unknown,
the shortness of the summer not admitting of the ripening of these
cereals. The inhabitants are consequently confined to barley and rye,
the latter being their staple food. This rye-bread is dark in colour,
but very sweet and wholesome.
We have seen the bakers of Sweden drawing batches of rye-bread; and
from the sweetness of it and its appearance as it lined the floor of
the bakehouse, we could scarcely disabuse our minds that it was not a
batch of English plum-loaf.
The making of bark-bread may now be said to be a thing of the past; but
its use even so late as the first half of this century, points to a
primitive age, and an intensity in the struggle for life with which we
in England are wholly unacquainted.
THE STANHOPE GOLD MEDAL.
In this _Journal_ for June 6, 1885, we gave our readers some account
of the ‘Heroes of Peace’ whose gallant acts had been rewarded in the
course of the previous year by the Royal Humane Society. The Stanhope
Gold Medal—‘the “blue ribbon” of the Society’—is awarded early in each
year to the hero of the most praiseworthy instance of bravery brought
to the notice of the Society during the preceding twelve months. In the
beginning of this year, then, the Stanhope Medal was awarded to Alfred
Collins, a young fisherman of Looe, Cornwall, for an act of bravery of
such signal daring as to deserve special notice here. On a dark stormy
night of December 1884, a boy named Hoskings fell overboard from the
fishing lugger _Water Nymph_, then seven or eight miles south-east of
the Eddystone lighthouse. The captain of the boat, Alfred Collins,
immediately jumped overboard, hampered though he was by his oilskins
and sea-boots, and holding on to his boat with one hand, endeavoured
to clutch the boy with the other. He failed in this attempt; but
clambering into the boat again, he secured the end of a line, and
carrying this with him, he jumped overboard once more, and swam in
the direction of the sinking lad. There was a heavy gale blowing, and
the night was dark, with heavy rain. By the time Collins reached the
boy, he was eighty feet from the _Water Nymph_, and already three feet
under water; but Collins managed to clutch him, and the two were with
great difficulty pulled on board. Such self-sacrificing heroism as
this needs no commendation; but the Royal Humane Society do well to
recognise it by the award of their medals. In addition to the Stanhope
Medal, the Society awarded during last year fifteen silver medals, and
one hundred and thirty-nine bronze ones; and to ten heroes who already
wore the medal for previous acts of bravery, the clasp was given; while
the minor awards, of testimonials on vellum and parchment and of money,
numbered no fewer than two hundred and twenty-seven. In the cases
reported to the Society during the twelve months, out of four hundred
and thirty-nine persons attempted to be rescued, four hundred and six
were actually saved.
AT THE MILL.
Swallows, skimming o’er the shallows,
Where, above the reeds and mallows,
May-flies hover light,
As ye course o’er flood and lea,
Twitter of my love to me—
Cometh he to-night?
Insect-mazes, softly droning
O’er the mill-stream’s fitful moaning,
In your wayward flight,
Murmur o’er the bridge’s cope
Lullabies to dreaming Hope—
Cometh he to-night?
Weave your flaming splendours o’er me,
Evening clouds that float before me,
Rosy, gold, and white;
Flood my soul with pearly rays,
Harbingers of halcyon days—
Cometh he to-night?
Flowers that lade the zephyr’s fleetness
With the burden of your sweetness,
Cheer me, calm and bright.
Sweet as you my thoughts shall spring,
When his soft-tongued whispering
Breathes o’er me to-night.
Fickle he as swallow’s glancing;
Wavering as the May-fly’s dancing
In the waning light!
Flimsy as the clouds above,
Frail as petals all his love!
Where is he to-night?