dinners, making them live as they live themselves! This practice is
truly absurd, and fraught with great danger—not only so, but it is
inducing a child to be fond of that which in after life might be his
bane and curse. No good end can be obtained by it; it will not
strengthen so young a child; it will, on the contrary, create fever, and
will thereby weaken him; it will act injuriously upon his delicate,
nervous, and vascular systems, and might be a means of producing
inflammation either of the brain or of its membranes, and might thus
cause water on the brain (a disease to which young children are
subject), or it might induce inflammation of the lungs.
158. _What ought a child who has cut his teeth to have for his supper?_
The same that he has for breakfast. He should sup at six o’clock.
154. _Have you any general remarks to make on a child’s meals?_
I recommended a great sameness in an _infant’s_ diet; but a _child’s_
meals, his dinners especially, ought to be much varied. For instance, do
not let him have, day after day, mutton; but ring the changes on mutton,
beef, poultry, game, and even occasionally fish—sole or cod.
Not only let there be a change of meat, but let there be a change in the
manner of cooking it: let the meat sometimes be roasted; at other times
let it be boiled. I have known a mother who has prided herself as being
experienced in these matters, feed her child, day after day, on
mutton-chops! Such a proceeding is most injurious to him, as after
awhile his unfortunate stomach will digest nothing but mutton-chops,
and, in time, not even those!
With regard to vegetables, potatoes—_mashed_ potatoes—ought to be his
staple vegetable; but every now and then, cauliflower, asparagus,
turnips, and French beans should be given.
With respect to puddings, vary them—rice, one day; suet, another;
batter, a third; tapioca, a fourth; or, even occasionally, he might have
either apple or gooseberry or rhubarb-pudding, provided the pastry be
plain and light.
It is an excellent plan, as I have before remarked, to let a child eat
jam—such as strawberry, raspberry, or gooseberry—and that without stint,
either with rice or with batter puddings.
_Variety of diet_, then, is _good for a child_: it will give him muscle,
bone, and sinew; and, what is very important, it will tend to regulate
his bowels, and it will thus prevent the necessity of giving him
aperients.
But do not stuff a child—do not press him, as is the wont of some
mothers, to eat more than he feels inclined. On the contrary, if you
think that he is eating too much—that he is overloading his stomach—and
if he should ask for more, then, instead of giving him either more meat
or more pudding, give him a piece of dry bread. By doing so, you may
rest assured that he will not eat more than is absolutely good for him.
155. _If a child be delicate, is there any objection to a little wine,
such as cowslip or tent, to strengthen him?_
Wine ought not to be given to a child unless it be ordered by a medical
man: it is even more injurious than beer. Wine, beer, and spirits
principally owe their strength to the alcohol they contain; indeed,
nearly _all_ wines are _fortified_ (as it is called) with brandy. Brandy
contains a large quantity of alcohol, more than any other liquor,
namely, 55.3 per cent. If, therefore, you give wine, it is, in point of
fact, giving diluted brandy—diluted alcohol; and alcohol acts, unless it
be used as a medicine, and under skillful medical advice, as a poison to
a child.
156. _Suppose a child suddenly to lose his appetite: is any notice to be
taken of it?_
If he cannot eat well, depend upon it there is something wrong about the
system. If he be teething, let a mother look well to his gums, and
satisfy herself that they do not require lancing. If they be red, hot,
and swollen, send for a medical man, that he may scarify them. If his
gums be not inflamed, and no tooth appears near, let her look well to
the state of his bowels; let her ascertain that they be sufficiently
opened, and that the stools be of a proper consistence, color, and
smell. If they be neither the one nor the other, give a dose of aperient
medicine, which will generally put all to rights. If the gums be cool,
and the bowels be right, and his appetite continue bad, call in medical
aid.
A child asking for something to eat is frequently, in a severe illness,
the first favorable symptom; we may generally then prognosticate that
all will soon be well again.
If a child refuse his food, neither coax nor tempt him to eat: as food
without an appetite will do him more harm than it will do him good; it
may produce either sickness, bowel complaint, or fever. Depend upon it,
there is always a cause for want of appetite;—perhaps his stomach has
been overworked, and requires repose; or his bowels are loaded, and
Nature wishes to take time to use up the old material;—there might be
fever lurking in his system; Nature stops the supplies, and thus
endeavors, by not giving it food to work with, to nip it in the
bud;—there might be inflammation; food would then be improper, as it
would only add fuel to the fire; let, therefore, the cause be either an
overworked stomach, overloaded bowels, fever, or inflammation, food
would be injurious. Kind Nature, if we will but listen to her voice,
will tell us when to eat and when to refrain.
157. _When a child is four or five years old, have you any objection to
his drinking tea?_
Some parents are in the habit of giving their children strong (and
frequently green) tea. This practice is most hurtful. It acts
injuriously upon their delicate, nervous system, and thus weakens their
whole frame. If milk does not agree, a cup of very weak tea, that is to
say, water with a dash of _black_ tea in it, with a tablespoonful of
cream, may be substituted for milk; but a mother must never give tea
where milk agrees.
158. _Have you any objection to a child occasionally having either cakes
or sweetmeats?_
I consider them as so much slow poison. Such things both cloy and weaken
the stomach, and thereby take away the appetite, and thus debilitate the
frame. Moreover, “sweetmeats are colored with poisonous pigments.” A
mother, surely, is not aware that when she is giving her child sugar
confectionery she is, in many cases, administering a deadly poison to
him? “We beg to direct the attention of our readers to the Report of the
Analytical Sanitary Commission, contained in the _Lancet_, on the
pigments employed in coloring articles of sugar confectionery. From this
report it appears that metallic pigments, of a highly dangerous and even
poisonous character, containing chromic acid, lead, copper, mercury, and
arsenic, are commonly used in the coloring of such articles.”
If a child be never allowed to eat cakes and sweetmeats, he will
consider a piece of dry bread a luxury, and will eat it with the
greatest relish.
159. _Is baker’s or is home-made bread the most wholesome for a child?_
Baker’s bread is certainly the lightest; and, if we could depend upon
its being unadulterated, would, from its lightness, be the most
wholesome; but as we cannot always depend upon baker’s bread, home-made
bread, as a rule, should be preferred. If it be at all heavy, a child
must not be allowed to partake of it; a baker’s loaf ought then to be
sent for, and continued to be eaten until light home-made bread can be
procured. Heavy bread is most indigestible. He must not be allowed to
eat bread until it be two or three days old. If it be a week old, in
cold weather, it will be the more wholesome.
160. _Do you approve either of caraway seeds or of currants in bread or
in cakes—the former to disperse wind, the latter to open the bowels?_
There is nothing better than plain bread: the caraway seeds generally
pass through the bowels undigested, and thus might irritate, and might
produce, instead of disperse wind. Although caraway seeds _whole_ are
unwholesome, yet caraway-tea, made as recommended in question 97, is an
excellent remedy to disperse wind. Some mothers put currants in cakes,
with a view of opening the bowels of their children; but they only open
them by disordering them.
161. _My child has an antipathy to certain articles of diet: what would
you advise to be done?_
A child’s antipathy to certain articles of diet should be respected: it
is a sin and a shame to force him to eat what he has a great dislike to:
a child, for instance, sometimes dislikes the fat of meat, underdone
meat, the skin off boiled milk and off rice-pudding. Why should he not
have his likes and dislikes as well as “children of a larger growth?”
Besides, there is an idiosyncrasy—a peculiarity of the constitution in
some children—and Nature oftentimes especially points out what is good
and what is bad for them individually, and we are not to fly in the face
of Nature. “What is one man’s meat is another man’s poison.” If a child
be forced to eat what he dislikes, it will most likely not only make him
sick, but will disorder his stomach and bowels: food, if it is really to
do him good, must be eaten by him with a relish, and not with disgust
and aversion. Some mothers, who are strict disciplinarians, pride
themselves on compelling their children to eat whatever they choose to
give them! Such children are to be pitied!
162. _When ought a child to commence to dine with his parents?_
As soon as he be old enough to sit up at the table, provided the father
and mother either dine or lunch in the middle of the day. “I always
prefer having children about me at meal-times. I think it makes them
little gentlemen and gentlewomen in a manner that nothing else will.”
THE NURSERY.
163. _Have you any remarks to make on the selection, the ventilation,
the warming, the temperature, and the arrangements of a nursery? and
have you any further observations to offer conducive to the well-doing
of my child?_
The nursery ought to be the largest and the most airy room in the house.
In the town, if it be in the topmost story (provided the apartment be
large and airy) so much the better, as the air will then be purer. The
architect, in the building of a house, ought to be particularly directed
to pay attention to the space, the loftiness, the ventilation, the
light, the warming, and the conveniences of a nursery. A bath-room
attached to it will be of great importance and benefit to the health of
a child.
It will, also, be advantageous to have a water-closet near at hand,
which should be well supplied with water, be well drained, and be well
ventilated. If this be not practicable, the evacuations ought to be
removed as soon as they are passed. It is a filthy and an idle habit of
a nurse-maid to allow a motion to remain for any length of time in the
room.
The VENTILATION of a nursery is of paramount importance. There ought to
be a constant supply of fresh, pure air in the apartment. But how few
nurseries have fresh, pure air? Many nurseries are nearly hermetically
sealed—the windows are seldom, if ever, opened; the doors are
religiously closed; and, in the summer time, the chimneys are carefully
stuffed up, so that a breath of air is not allowed to enter! The
consequences are, the poor unfortunate children “are poisoned by their
own breaths,” and are made so delicate that they are constantly catching
cold; indeed, it might be said that they are laboring under chronic
catarrhs, all rising from Nature’s laws being set at defiance.
The windows ought to be large, and should be made to freely open both
top and bottom. Whenever the child is out of the nursery the windows
ought to be thrown wide open; indeed, when he is in it, if the weather
be fine, the upper sash should be a little lowered. A child should be
encouraged to change the room frequently, in order that it may be freely
ventilated; for good air is as necessary to his health as wholesome
food, and air cannot be good if it be not frequently changed. If you
wish to have a strong and healthy child, ponder over and follow this
advice.
I have to enter my protest against the use of a stove in a nursery. I
consider a gas stove _without a chimney_ to be an abomination, most
destructive to human life. There is nothing like the old-fashioned open
fire-place, with a good-sized chimney, so that it may not only carry off
the smoke, but also the impure air of the room.
Be sure to have a fire-guard around the grate, and be strict in not
allowing your child either to touch or to play with fire; frightful
accidents have occurred from mothers and nurses being on these points
lax.
The nursery ought to have a large fire-guard, to go all round the
hearth, and which should be sufficiently high to prevent a child from
climbing over. Not only must the nursery have a guard, but every room
where he is allowed to go should be furnished with one on the bars.
Moreover, it will be necessary to have a guard in every room where a
fire is burning, to protect the ladies, who, in accordance with the
present fashion, wear such preposterous crinolines, and thus to prevent
the frightful deaths which are at the present time of such frequent and
startling occurrence; lady-burning is now one of the institutions of our
land!
A nursery is usually kept too hot; the temperature in the winter time
ought _not to exceed_ 60 degrees Fahrenheit. A _good_ thermometer should
be considered an indispensable requisite to a nursery. A child in a hot,
close nursery is bathed in perspiration; if he leave the room to go to
one of lower temperature, the pores of the skin are suddenly closed, and
either a severe cold, or an inflammation of the lungs, or an attack of
bronchitis, is likely to ensue. Moreover, the child is both weakened and
enervated by the heat, and thus readily falls a prey to disease.
A child ought never to be permitted to sit with his back to the fire; if
he be allowed, it weakens his spine, and thus his whole frame; it causes
a rush of blood to the head and face, and predisposes him to catch cold.
Let a nurse make a point of opening the nursery window every time that
she and her little charge leave the nursery, if their absence be only
for half an hour. The mother herself ought to see that this advice is
followed, pure air is so essential to the well-being of a child. Pure
air and pure water, and, let me add, pure milk, are for a child the
grand and principal requirements of health. “Pure air and water are
practically the two great elements of health.”—_The Times._
Look well to the DRAINAGE of your house and neighborhood. A child is
very susceptible to the influence of bad drainage. Bad drains are
fruitful sources of scarlet fever, of diphtheria, of diarrhœa, etc. “It
is sad to be reminded, that, whatever evils threaten the health of a
population, whether from pollutions of water or of air,—whether from bad
drainage or overcrowding, they fall heaviest on the most innocent
victims—upon children of tender years. Their delicate frames are
infinitely more sensitive than the hardened constitutions of adults, and
the breath of poison or the chill of hardships easily blights their
tender life.”
A nursery floor ought not to be _washed_ oftener than once a week; and
then the child or children should, until it be dry, be sent into another
room. During the drying of the floor, the windows must, of course, be
thrown _wide_ open.
The constant _wetting_ of a nursery is a frequent source of illness
among children. The floor ought, of course, to be kept clean; but this
may be done by the servant thoroughly sweeping the room out every
morning before her little charge makes his appearance.
Do not have your nursery walls covered with _green_ paper-hangings.
Green paper-hangings contain large quantities of arsenic—arsenite of
copper (Scheele’s green)—which, I need scarcely say, is a virulent
poison, and which flies about the room in the form of powder. There is
frequently enough poison on the walls of a room to destroy a whole
neighborhood.
There is another great objection to having your nursery walls covered
with _green_ paper-hangings; if any of the paper should become loose
from the walls, a little child is very apt to play with it, and to put
it, as he does everything else, to his mouth. This is not an imaginary
state of things, as four children in one family have just lost their
lives from sucking green paper-hangings.
Green dresses, as they are colored with a preparation of arsenic, are
equally as dangerous as green paper-hangings; a child ought, therefore,
never to wear a _green_ dress. “It may be interesting to some of our
readers,” says _Land and Water_, “to know that the new green, so
fashionable for ladies’ dresses, is just as dangerous in its nature as
the green wall-paper, about which so much was written some time since.
It is prepared with a large quantity of arsenic; and we have been
assured by several of the leading dressmakers that the work-women
employed in making up dresses of this color are seriously affected with
all the symptoms of arsenical poison. Let our lady friends take care.”
Children’s toys are frequently painted of a green color with arsenic of
copper, and are, consequently, highly dangerous to play with. The best
toy for a child is a box of unpainted wooden bricks, which is a constant
source of amusement to him.
If you have your nursery walls hung with paintings and engravings, let
them be of good quality. The horrid daubs and bad engravings that
usually disfigure nursery walls, are enough to ruin the taste of a
child, and to make him take a disgust to drawing, which would be a
misfortune. A fine engraving and a good painting expand and elevate his
mind. We all know that first impressions are the most vivid and the most
lasting. A taste in early life for everything refined and beautiful
purifies his mind, cultivates his intellect, keeps him from low company,
and makes him grow up a gentleman!
Lucifer matches, in case of sudden illness, should, both in the nursery
and in the bed-room, always be in readiness; but they must be carefully
placed out of the reach of children, as lucifer matches are a deadly
poison.
164. _Have you any observation to make on the_ LIGHT _of the nursery_?
Let the window, or, what is better, the windows, of a nursery be very
large, so as to thoroughly light up every nook and corner of the room,
as there is nothing more conducive to the health of a child than an
abundance of light in the dwelling.
A room cannot, then, be too light. The windows of a nursery are
generally too small. A child requires as much light as a plant.
Gardeners are well aware of the great importance of light in the
construction of their greenhouses, and yet a child, who requires it as
much, and is of much greater importance, is cooped up in dark rooms!
The windows of a nursery ought not only to be frequently opened to let
in fresh air, _but should be frequently cleaned_, to let in plenty of
light and of sunshine, as nothing is so cheering and beneficial to a
child as an abundance of light and sunshine!
_With regard to the best artificial light for a nursery._—The air of a
nursery cannot be too pure; I therefore do not advise you to have gas in
it, as gas in burning gives off quantities of carbonic acid and
sulphuretted hydrogen, which vitiate the air. There is no better light
for a nursery than either Price’s patent candles or the old-fashioned
tallow candle.
Let a child’s _home_ be the happiest _house_ to him in all the world;
and to be happy he must be merry, and all around him should be merry and
cheerful; and he ought to have an abundance of playthings, to help on
the merriment.
If he has a dismal nurse, and a dismal home, he may as well be
incarcerated in prison, and be attended by a jailer. It is sad enough to
see dismal, doleful men and women, but it is a truly lamentable and
unnatural sight to see a doleful child! The young ought to be as playful
and as full of innocent mischief as a kitten. There will be quite time
enough in after-years for sorrow and for sadness.
Bright colors, plenty of light, _clean_ windows (mind this, if you
please), an abundance of _good_-colored prints, and toys without number,
are the proper furnishings of a nursery. Nursery! why, the very name
tells you what it ought to be—the home of childhood,—the most important
room in the house,—a room that will greatly tend to stamp the character
of your child for the remainder of his life.
165. _Have you any more hints to offer conducive to the well-doing of my
child?_
You cannot be too particular in the choice of those who are in constant
attendance upon him. You yourself, of course, must be his
_head-nurse_—you only require some one to take the drudgery off your
hands!
You ought to be particularly careful in the selection of his nurse. She
should be steady, lively, truthful, and good-tempered; and must be free
from any natural imperfection, such as squinting, stammering, etc., for
a child is such an imitative creature that he is likely to acquire that
defect, which in the nurse is natural. “Children, like babies, are quick
at ‘taking notice.’ What they see they mark, and what they mark they are
very prone to copy.”
She ought not to be very young, or she may be thoughtless, careless, and
giggling. You have no right to set a child to mind a child; it would be
like the blind leading the blind. No! a child is too precious a treasure
to be intrusted to the care and keeping of a young girl. Many a child
has been ruined for life by a careless young nurse dropping him and
injuring his spine.
A nurse ought to be both strong and active, in order that her little
charge may have plenty of good nursing; for it requires great strength
in the arms to carry a heavy child for the space of an hour or two, at a
stretch, in the open air; and such is absolutely necessary, and is the
only way to make him strong, and to cause him to cut his teeth easily,
and at the same time to regulate his bowels; a nurse, therefore, must be
strong and active, and not mind hard work, for hard work it is; but
after she is accustomed to it, pleasant notwithstanding.
Never should a nurse be allowed to wear a mask, nor to dress up and
paint herself as a ghost, or as any other frightful object. A child is
naturally timid and full of fears, and what would not make the slightest
impression upon a grown-up person, might throw a child into fits—
“The sleeping and the dead,
Are but as pictures: ’tis the age of childhood
That fears a painted devil.”
Never should she be permitted to tell her little charge frightful
stories of ghosts and hobgoblins; if this be allowed, the child’s
disposition will become timid and wavering, and may continue so for the
remainder of his life.
If a little fellow were not terrified by such stories, the darkness
would not frighten him more than the light. Moreover, the mind thus
filled with fear, acts upon the body, and injures the health. A child
must never be placed in a dark cellar, nor frightened by tales of rats,
etc. Instances are related of fear thus induced impairing the intellect
for life; and there are numerous examples of sudden fright causing a
dangerous and even a fatal illness.
_Night-terrors._—This frightening of a child by a silly nurse frequently
brings on night-terrors. He wakes up suddenly, soon after going to
sleep, frightened and terrified; screaming violently, and declaring that
he has seen either some ghost, or thief, or some object that the silly
nurse had been previously in the day describing, who is come for him to
take him away. The little fellow is the very picture of terror and
alarm; he hides his face in his mother’s bosom, the perspiration streams
down him, and it is some time before he can be pacified—when, at length,
he falls into a troubled, feverish slumber, to awake in the morning
unrefreshed. Night after night these terrors harass him, until his
health materially suffers, and his young life becomes miserable, looking
forward with dread to the approach of darkness.
_Treatment of night-terrors._—If they have been caused by the folly of
the nurse, discharge her at once, and be careful to select a more
discreet one. When the child retires to rest leave a candle burning, and
let it burn all night; sit with him until he be asleep; and take care,
in case he should rouse up in one of his night-terrors, that either you
yourself or some kind person be near at hand. Do not scold him for being
frightened—he cannot help it; but soothe him, calm him, fondle him, take
him into your arms, and let him feel that he has some one to rest upon,
to defend and to protect him. It is frequently in these cases necessary
before he can be cured to let him have change of air and change of
scene. Let him live in the daytime, a great part of the day, in the open
air.