Let me urge upon you the importance of not allowing your child to wear 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 the nineteenth century there are but few shoemakers who know how to make a shoe! The shoe is made not to fit a real foot, but a fashionable imaginary one! The poor unfortunate toes are in consequence screwed up as in a vice!

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." [Footnote: The Foot and its Covering, second edition. By James Dowie. London: 1872. I beg to call a mother's especial attention to this valuable little book: it is written by an earnest intelligent man, by one who has studied the subject in all its bearings, and by one who is himself a shoemaker.]

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 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 encased 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, lack-a-daisical nonentities; dress being their amusement, their occupation, their conversation, their everything, their thoughts by day and their dreams by night! Truly they are melancholy objects to behold! 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 then have, with God's blessing, blooming children, who will, in time, be the pride and strength of dear old England!

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. The food as he becomes older, 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 have 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 or 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 his bowels, and producing constipation; at another, disordering his liver, and causing either clay-coloured 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 to 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 so 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, &c., 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 tea-cupful 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 skim-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 I am not, as a rule, 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 tea-cupful of very weak black tea, sweeten with one lump of sugar, and add a table-spoonful of cream. Let the above, by tea-spoonfuls 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! You win find Robinson's Pure Scotch Oatmeal (sold in packets) to be very pure, and sweet, and good. Stir-about is truly said to be—

"The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food."—Burns.

Cadbury's Cocoa Essence, made with equal parts of boiling water and fresh milk, slightly sweetened with lump sugar, is an admirable food for a delicate child. Bread and butter should be eaten with 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 the young; 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 child, as a rule, can live, or, if he live, can be healthy, unless milk be 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 if they are in health are fat!

Milk, then, contains every ingredient to build up the body, which is more than can be said of any other known substance besides. A child may live entirely, and grow, 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 food and drink—it is a fluid, but as soon as it reaches the stomach it becomes a solid [Footnote: 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 calfs 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.]—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, on any account whatever, in any case be dispensed with. "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 marvellous 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."—The Times.

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, Hard's Farinaceous Food, Brown and Polson's Corn Flour, and the like, with the milk, is an improvement, in some cases—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 be truly 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 were 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 he healthier, and would not be so predisposed to disease, especially to diseases of debility, and 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 differents kinds of farinaceous food, stir-about, plain milk, cold milk, hot milk, any way, and every way, that will please his palate, and that will induce him to take an abundant supply of it. The "advice" I have just given you is of paramount importance, and demands your most earnest attention. There would be very few rickety children in the world if my "counsel" were followed out to the very letter.

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 a while, 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 have 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 as 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 table-spoonfuls 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—Wenham Lake is the best—either in the dairy or in the cellar. The ice may at any time, be procured of a respectable fishmonger, and should be kept, wrapped either in flannel or in blanket, in a cool place, until it be wanted.

143. Can you tell me why the children of the rich suffer so much more from costiveness than do the children of the poor?

The principal reason is that the children of the rich drink milk without water, while the children of the poor drink water without, or with very little, milk—milk being binding, and water opening to the bowels. Be sure then, and bear in mind, as this is most important advice, to see that water is mixed with all the milk that is given to your child. The combination of milk and water for a child is a glorious compound—strengthening, fattening, refreshing, and regulating to the bowels, and thus doing away with that disgraceful proceeding so common in nurseries, of everlastingly physicking, irritating and irreparably injuring the tender bowels of a child.

My opinion is, that aperients, as a rule, are quite unnecessary, and should only be given in severe illness, and under the direction of a judicious medical man. How much misery, and injury, might be averted if milk were always given to a child in combination with water!

Aperients, by repetition, unlike water, increase the mischief tenfold, and cork them up most effectually; so that the bowels, in time, will not act without them!

A mother before she gives an aperient to her child should ponder well upon what I have said upon the subject, it being a vital question, affecting, as it does, the well-being and the well-doing of her child.

144. But, if a child's bowels be very costive, what is to be done to relieve them?

Do not give him a grain or a drop of opening medicine, but in lieu thereof, administer, by means of a 6 oz. India-rubber Enema Bottle, half a tea-cup or a tea-cupful, according to the age of the child, [Footnote: For a babe, from birth until he be two years old, one, two, or three table-spoonfuls of warm water will be sufficient, and a 2 oz. Enema Bottle will be the proper size for the purpose of administering it.] of warm water; now this will effectually open the bowels, without confining them afterwards, which opening physic would most assuredly do!

145. 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 have 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.

146. 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.

147. 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."

148. 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 that either mutton or beef; indeed, all young meats are harder of digestion than meats of maturity; thus mutton is more digestible than lamb, and beef than veal.

149. 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 have 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.

150. 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. There is great nourishment in an egg; it will not only strengthen the frame, but it will give animal heat as well: these two qualities of an egg are most valuable; indeed, essential for the due performance of health: many articles of food contain the one qualification, but not the other: hence the egg is admirably suitable for a child's occasional dinner.

151. Are potatoes an unwholesome food for a child?

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

152. 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. Green peas may occasionally be given, provided they be thoroughly well boiled, and mashed with the knife on the plate. Underdone and unmashed peas are not fit for a child's stomach: there is nothing more difficult of digestion than underdone peas. It is important, too, to mash them, even if they be well done, as a child generally bolts peas whole; and they pass through the alimentary canal without being in the least digested.

153. 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 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.

154. 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. If the water be hard—provided it be free from organic matter—so much the better. [Footnote: See the third edition of Counsel to a Mother, under the head of "Hard or soft water as a beverage!"] 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, &c.; 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.

The drinking fountains are a great boon to poor children, as water and plenty of it, is one of the chief necessaries of their existence; and, unfortunately, at their own homes they are not, oftentimes, able to obtain a sufficient supply. Moreover, drinking fountains are the best advocates for Temperance.

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

155. 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.

156. 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; let it at other times 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 a while 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 her 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.

157. 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 skilful medical advice, as a poison to a child.

158. 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, colour, 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 favourable 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 a want of appetite;—perhaps his stomach has been over-worked, 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 endeavours, 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, over-loaded 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.

159. 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 table-spoonful of cream, may be substituted for milk; but a mother must never give tea where milk agrees.

160. 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 coloured 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 of the present week (Dec. 18, 1858), on the pigments employed in colouring 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 colouring 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.

161. Is bakers' or is home-made bread the most wholesome for a child?

Bakers' 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 bakers' 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.

162. 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. [Footnote: Although caraway seeds whole are unwholesome, yet caraway tea, made as recommended in a previous Conversation, 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.

163. 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!

164. 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 tines. I think it makes them little gentlemen and gentlewomen in a manner that nothing else will."—Christian's Mistake.

THE NURSERY.

165. Save 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 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 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 labouring under chronic catarrhs, all arising 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 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 he furnished with one on the bars.

Moreover, it will be advisable to have a guard in every room where a fire is burning, to prevent ladies from being burned. Fortunately for them, preposterous crinolines are out of fashion: when they were in fashion, death from burning was of every-day occurrence; indeed, lady-burning was then to be considered 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 his 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 the spine, and thus his whole frame; it causes a rash 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 her 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.

Look well to the DRAINAGE of your house and neighbourhood. A child is very susceptible to the influence of bad drainage. Bad drains are fruitful sources of scarlet fever, of diphtheria, of diarrhoea, &c. "It is sad to be reminded that, whatever evils threaten the health of population, whether from pollutions of water or of air,—whether from bad drainage or overcrowding, they fall heaviest upon 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."—The Times.

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 wall 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 neigbourhood.

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 every thing 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 coloured 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 workwomen employed in making up dresses of this colour are seriously affected with all the symptoms of arsenical poisoning. Let our lady friends take care."

Children's toys are frequently painted of a green colour with arsenite of copper, and are consequently, highly dangerous for him 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 bedroom, be always in readiness; but they must be carefully placed out of the reach of children, as lucifer matches are a deadly poison. Many inquests have been held on children who have, from having sucked them, been poisoned by them.

166. Have you any observation to make on the LIGHT of a 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. The paraffine lamp, too, makes a room very hot and close. 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 he the happiest house to him in 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 have a dismal nurse, and a dismal home, he may as well be incarcerated in a prison, and be attended by a gaoler. 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 colours, plenty of light, clean windows (mind this, if you please), an abundance of good-coloured 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.

167. 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, &c., 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."—The Times.

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 entrusted 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 noise, therefore, most 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."—Shakspeare.

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, &c. 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 brought on 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 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 cared to let him have change of air and change of scene. Let him live, in the day time, a great part of the day in the open air.

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

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

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

Longfellow.

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

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

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

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

"Who takes the children on his knee, And winds their curls, about his hand."—Tennyson.

168. If a child be peevish, and apparently in good health, have you any plan to propose to allay his irritability?

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

"The tear down childhood's check that flows Is like the dew-drop on the rose; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is dry."—Scott.

Never allow a child to be teased; it spoils his temper. If he be in a cross humour take no notice of it, but divert his attention to some pleasing object. This may be done without spoiling him. Do not combat bad temper with bad temper—noise with noise. Be firm, be kind, be gentle, [Footnote: "But we were gentle among you, even as a women cherisheth her children."—1 Thess. ii. 7.] be loving, speak quietly, smile tenderly, and embrace him fondly, but insist upon implicit obedience, and you will have, with God's blessing, a happy child—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 a woman," and is a jewel of great price, and is one of the concomitants of 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!"—Life's Problems.

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

Do not always be 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 and blatant inanity! 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 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" Archdeacon Hare asserts "that Purity is the feminine, Truth the masculine of Honour."

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 the child that can say,—

"Parental cares watched o'er my growing youth, And early stamped it with the love of truth."

Leadbeater Papers.

Have no favourites, 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 affectioned 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 favourite author remarks) come but seldom, and are the exceptions, and not the rule.

Let a child he nurtured in love. "It will be seen," says the author of John Halifax, "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 may 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. "Endeavour, 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 towards your children—that you are devoted to their interests; you must show in your manner the fondness of your hearts towards them. Young minds cannot appreciate great sacrifices made for them; they judge their parents by the words and deeds of every-day 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."—The Protoplast.

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

169. 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 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; practise 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 practising 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 endeavour 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.

170. Do you approve of a carpet in a nursery?

No, unless it be a small piece for a child to roll upon. A carpet harbours 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 be easily 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, and this may every morning 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 play and exercise in the room—an abundance of which are absolutely necessary for his health.

171. 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 two-fold—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.

172. 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 north-easterly 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.

173. 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 have 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 many mothers are so ridiculously ambitious that their young ones should walk early—that they should walk before other children of their acquaintance have attempted—that they have frequently caused the above lamentable deformities; which is a standing reproach to them during the rest of their lives.

174. 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 into action, and consequently cannot be so well developed, as when he is earned. 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 of a few months old in one of these newfangled 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, more especially if there be a redcoat in the path!

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 test 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 frim 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.

175. 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 north-east, and if the air be not damp, let him be well wrapped up and be sent out. If he be labouring under an inflammation of the lungs, however slight, or if he be just recovering from one, it would, of coarse, 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 rain than in fog, though neither the one nor the other would be desirable.

176. 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, nor from catching cold.

177. 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. A wet day is the day for him to hold his high court of revelry, and "to make him as happy as the day is long."

Do not on any account allow him to sit any length of time at a table, amusing himself with books, &c.; let him be active 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 encumbered with long dresses, and so screwed in with tight stays (aping their betters), that they are not able to stoop properly, and thus to have a good game of romps with their little charges. "Doing nothing is doing ill" is as true a saying as was ever spoken.

178. 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 woollen 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 and bathe 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! If the above advice be strictly followed, a child may be sent out in the coldest weather, even—

"When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick, the shepherd, blows his nail; And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail."

Shakspeare.

AMUSEMENTS.

179. 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 please, his feelings will tell him when to rest and when to begin again; let him be what Nature intended Mm 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 sagea can."—Wordsworth.

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."—Goldsmith.

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 now-a-days, 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 please. 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. He is generally a sneak, and a little humbug.

Girls, at the present time, are made clever simpletons; their brains are worked with useless knowledge, which totally unfits them for every-day 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 colour 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, &c. 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 wilful 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 colour 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, &c, and a child, when painting, is apt to put the brush into his mouth, to absorb the superabundant fluid. Of all the colours, 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' waggons, boxes of wooden bricks, &c. 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 familiarised with the forms of natural objects, and may be well up in natural history before they have mastered the ABC" [Footnote: From an excellent article About Toys, by J Hamilton Fyfe in Good Words for December 1862.]

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 a child religious by gloomy asceticism, than yon can make people good by Act of Parliament.