_tight_ shoes; they cripple the feet, causing the joints of the toes,
which ought to have free play, and which should assist in walking, to
be, in a manner, useless; they produce corns and bunions, and interfere
with the proper circulation of the foot. A shoe ought to be made
according to the shape of the foot—rights and lefts are therefore
desirable. The toe-part of the shoe must be made broad, so as to allow
plenty of room for the toes to expand, and that one toe cannot overlap
another. Be sure, then, that there be no pinching and no pressure. In
the article of shoes you ought to be particular and liberal; pay
attention to having nicely fitting ones, and let them be made of soft
leather, and throw them on one side the moment they are too small. It is
poor economy, indeed, because a pair of shoes be not worn out, to run
the risk of incurring the above evil consequences.
_Shoes are far preferable to boots_; boots weaken instead of strengthen
the ankle. The ankle and instep require free play, and ought not to be
hampered by boots. Moreover, boots, by undue pressure, decidedly waste
away the ligaments of the ankle. Boots act on the ankles in a similar
way that stays do on the waist—they do mischief by pressure. Boots waste
away the ligaments of the ankle; stays waste away the muscles of the
back and chest: and thus, in both cases, do irreparable mischief.
A shoe for a child ought to be made with a narrow strap over the instep,
and with button and button-hole: if it be not made in this way, the shoe
will not keep on the foot.
It is a grievous state of things that in this nineteenth century there
are very few shoemakers in England who know how to make a shoe! The shoe
is made not to fit the real foot, but a fashionable imaginary one!
Let me strongly urge you to be particular that the sock or stocking fits
nicely—that it is neither too small nor too large; if it be too small,
it binds up the toes unmercifully, and makes one toe to ride over the
other, and thus renders the toes perfectly useless in walking; if it be
too large, it is necessary to lap a portion of the sock or stocking
either under or over the toes, which thus presses unduly upon them, and
gives pain and annoyance. It should be borne in mind that if the toes
have full play, they, as it were, grasp the ground, and greatly assist
in locomotion—which, of course, if they are cramped up, they cannot
possibly do. Be careful, too, that the toe-part of the sock or stocking
be not pointed; let it be made square, in order to give room to the
toes. “At this helpless period of life the delicately feeble,
outspreading toes, are wedged into a narrow-toed stocking, often so
short as to double in the toes, diminishing the length of the
rapidly-growing foot! It is next, perhaps, tightly laced into a boot of
less interior dimensions than itself; when the poor little creature is
left to sprawl about with a limping, stumping gait, thus learning to
walk as it best can, under circumstances the most cruel and torturing
imaginable.”
It is impossible for either a stocking or a shoe to fit nicely, unless
the toe-nails be kept in proper order. Now, in cutting the toe-nails
there is, as in everything else, a right and a wrong way. The _right_
way of cutting a toe-nail is to cut it straight—in a straight line. The
_wrong_ way is to cut the corners of the nail—to round the nail, as it
is called. This cutting the corners of the nails often makes work for
the surgeon, as I myself can testify; it frequently produces
“growing-in” of the nail, which sometimes necessitates the removal of
either the nail or of a portion of it.
133. _At what time of the year should a child leave off his winter
clothing?_
A mother ought not to leave off her children’s winter clothing until the
spring be far advanced; it is far better to be on the safe side, and to
allow the winter clothes to be worn until the end of May. The old adage
is very good, and should be borne in mind:
“Button to chin
Till May be in;
Ne’er cast a clout
Till May be out.”
134. _Have you any general remarks to make on the present fashion of
dressing children?_
The present fashion is absurd. Children are frequently dressed like
mountebanks, with feathers and furbelows and finery: the boys go
bare-legged; the little girls are dressed like women, with their
stuck-out petticoats, crinolines, and low dresses! Their poor little
waists are drawn in tight, so that they can scarcely breathe; their
dresses are very low and short, the consequence is, that a great part of
the chest is exposed to our variable climate; their legs are bare down
to their thin socks, or, if they be clothed, they are only covered with
gossamer drawers; while their feet are incased in tight shoes of paper
thickness! Dress! dress! dress! is made with them at a tender age, and,
when first impressions are the strongest, a most important
consideration. They are thus rendered vain and frivolous, and are taught
to consider dress “as the one thing needful.” And if they live to be
women—which the present fashion is likely frequently to prevent—what are
they? Silly, simpering, delicate, lackadaisical nonentities,—dress being
their amusement, their occupation, their conversation, their everything,
their thoughts by day and their dreams by night! Let children be dressed
as children, not as men and women. Let them be taught that dress is
quite a secondary consideration. Let health, and not fashion, be the
first, and we shall have, with God’s blessing, blooming children, who
will, in time, be the pride and strength of dear old England! Oh that
the time may come, and may not be far distant, “That our sons may grow
up as the young plants, and that our daughters may be as the polished
corners of the temple.”
DIET.
135. _At_ TWELVE _months old, have you any objection to a child having
any other food besides that you mentioned in answer to the 34th
question_?
There is no objection to his _occasionally_ having for dinner either a
mealy, _mashed_ potato and gravy, or a few crumbs of bread and gravy.
Rice-pudding or batter-pudding may, for a change, be given; but
remember, the food recommended in a former Conversation is what, until
he be eighteen months old, must be principally taken. During the early
months of infancy—say, for the first six or seven—if artificial food be
given at all, it should be administered by means of a feeding-bottle.
After that time, either a spoon or a nursing-boat will be preferable. As
he becomes older, the food ought to be made more solid.
136. _At_ EIGHTEEN _months old, have you any objection to a child having
meat_?
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.