* * * * *

"Look over the bills of mortality. Almost half of those who fill up that black list, die under five years of age; so that half the people that come into the world go out of it again, before they become of the least use to it or to themselves. To me, this seems to deserve serious consideration.

"It is ridiculous to charge it upon nature, and to suppose that infants are more subject to disease and death than grown persons; on the contrary, they bear pain and disease much better—fevers especially; and for the same reason that a twig is less hurt by a storm than an oak.

"In all the other productions of nature, we see the greatest vigor and luxuriancy of health, the nearer they are to the egg or bud. When was there a lamb, a bird, or a tree, that died because it was young? These are under the immediate nursing of unerring nature; and they thrive accordingly.

"Ought it not, therefore, to be the care of every nurse and every parent, not only to protect their nurslings from injury, but to be well assured that their own officious services be not the greatest evils the helpless creatures can suffer?

"In the lower class of mankind, especially in the country, disease and mortality are not so frequent, either among adults or their children. Health and posterity are the portion of the poor—I mean the laborious. The want of superfluity confines them more within the limits of nature; hence they enjoy the blessings they feel not, and are ignorant of their cause.

"In the course of my practice, I have had frequent occasion to be fully satisfied of this; and have often heard a mother anxiously say, 'the child has not been well ever since it has done puking and crying.'

"These complaints, though not attended to, point very plainly to the cause. Is it not very evident that when a child rids its stomach of its contents several times a day, it has been overloaded? While the natural strength lasts, (for every child is born with more health and strength than is generally imagined,) it cries at or rejects the superfluous load, and thrives apace; that is, grows very fat, bloated, and distended beyond measure, like a house lamb.

"But in time, the same oppressive cause continuing, the natural powers are overcome, being no longer able to throw off the unequal weight. The child, now unable to cry any more, languishes and is quiet.

"The misfortune is, that these complaints are not understood. The child is swaddled and crammed on, till, after gripes, purging, &c., it sinks under both burdens into a convulsion fit, and escapes farther torture. This would be the case with the lamb, were it not killed, when full fat.

"That the present mode of nursing is wrong, one would think needed no other proof than the frequent miscarriages attending it, the death of many, and the ill health of those that survive. But what I am going to complain of is, that children, in general, are over-clothed and over-fed, and fed and clothed improperly. To these causes I attribute almost all their diseases.

"But the feeding of children is much more important to them than their clothing. Let us consider what nature directs in the case. If we follow nature, instead of leading or driving her, we cannot err. In the business of nursing, as well as physic, art, if it do not exactly copy this original, is ever destructive.

"If I could prevail, no child should ever be crammed with any unnatural mixture, till the provision of nature was ready for it; nor afterwards fed with any ungenial diet whatever, at least for the first three months; for it is not well able to digest and assimilate other elements sooner.

"I have seen very healthy children that never ate or drank anything whatever but their mother's milk, for the first ten or twelve months. Nature seems to direct to this, by giving them no teeth till about that time. The call of nature should be waited for to feed them with anything more substantial; and the appetite ought ever to precede the food—not only with regard to the daily meals, but those changes of diet which opening, increasing life requires. But this is never done, in either case; which is one of the greatest mistakes of all nurses.

"When the child requires more solid sustenance, we are to inquire what and how much is most proper to give it. We may be well assured there is a great mistake either in the quantity or quality of children's food, or both, as it is usually given them, because they are made sick by it; for to this mistake I cannot help imputing nine in ten of all their diseases.

"As to quantity, there is a most ridiculous error in the common practice; for it is generally supposed that whenever a child cries, it wants victuals: it is accordingly fed ten or twelve or more times in a day and night. This is so obvious a misapprehension, that I am surprised it should ever prevail.

"If a child's wants and motions be diligently and judiciously attended to, it will be found that it never cries, but from pain. Now the first sensations of hunger are not attended with pain; accordingly, a very young child that is hungry will make a hundred other signs of its want, before it will cry for food. If it be healthy, and quite easy in its dress, it will hardly ever cry at all. Indeed, these signs and motions I speak of are but rarely observed, because it seldom happens that children are ever suffered to be hungry.[Footnote: That which we commonly observe in them, in such cases, and call by the name of hunger, the Doctor, I suppose would regard as morbid or unnatural feeling, wholly unworthy of the name of HUNGER.]

"In a few, very few, whom I have had the pleasure to see reasonably nursed, that were not fed above two or three times in twenty-four hours, and yet were perfectly healthy, active, and happy, I have seen these signals, which were as intelligible as if they had spoken.

"There are many faults in the quality of children's food.

"1. It is not simple enough. Their paps, panadas, gruels, &c. are generally enriched with sugar, spices, and other nice things, and sometimes a drop of wine—none of which they ought ever to take. Our bodies never want them; they are what luxury only has introduced, to the destruction of the health of mankind.

"2. It is not enough that their food should be simple; it should also be light. Many people, I find, are mistaken in their notions of what is light, and fancy that most kinds of pastry, puddings, custards, &c. are light; that is, light of digestion. But there is nothing heavier, in this sense, than unfermented flour and eggs, boiled hard, which are the chief ingredients in some of these preparations.

"What I mean by light food—to give the best idea I can of it—is, any substance that is easily separated, and soluble in warm water. Good bread is the lightest thing I know, and the fittest food for young children. Cows' milk is also simple and light, and very good for them; but it is often injudiciously prepared. It should never be boiled; for boiling alters the taste and properties of it, destroys its sweetness, and makes it thicker, heavier, and less fit to mix and assimilate with the blood."

* * * * *

It is hardly necessary for me to repeat, that in these general views of Dr. C., with a few exceptions, I entirely concur; indeed some of them have already been presented. But I have expressed my doubts of the soundness of his conclusion in regard to sugar. Used with food, in very small quantity, by persons whose stomachs are already in a good condition, both sugar and molasses, especially the former, appear to me not only harmless, but wholesome and useful.

On the subject of simplicity in children's food, I should be glad to enlarge. There is nothing more important in diet than simplicity, and yet I think there is nothing more rare. To suit the fashion, everything must be mixed and varied. I have no objection to variety at different meals, both for children and adults; indeed I am disposed to recommend it, as will be seen hereafter. But I am utterly opposed to any considerable variety at the same meal; and above all, in a single dish. The simpler a dish can be, the better.

But let us look, for a moment, at the dishes of food which are often presented, even at what are called plain tables.

Meats cannot be eaten—so many persons think—without being covered with mustard, or pepper, or gravy—or soaked in vinegar; and not a few regard them as insipid, unless several of these are combined. Few people think a piece of plain boiled or broiled muscle (lean flesh) with nothing on it but a little salt, is fit to be eaten. Everything, it is thought, must be rendered more stimulating, or acrid; or must be swimming in gravy, or melted fat or butter.

Bread, though proverbially the staff of life, can scarcely be eaten in its simple state. It must be buttered, or honied, or toasted, or soaked in milk, or dipped in gravy. Puddings must have cherries or fruits of some sort, or spices in them, and must be sweetened largely. Or perhaps—more ridiculous still—they must have suet in them. And after all this is done, who can eat them without the addition of sauce, or butter, or molasses, or cream? Potatoes, boiled, steamed or roasted, delightful as they are to an unperverted appetite, are yet thought by many people hardly palatable till they are mashed, and buttered or gravied; or perhaps soaked in vinegar. In short, the plainest and simplest article for the table is deemed nearly unfit for the stomach, till it has been buttered, and peppered, and spiced, and perhaps pearlashed. Even bread and milk must be filled with berries or fruits. Where can you find many adults who would relish a meal which should consist entirely of plain bread, without any addition; of plain potatoes, without anything on them except a little salt; of a plain rice pudding, and nothing with it; or of plain baked or boiled apples or pears? And could such persons be found, how many of them would bring up their children to live on such plain dishes?

It need not be wondered at, that a palate which has been so long tickled by variety, and by so many stimulating mixtures of food, should come to regard cold water for drink as insipid; and should feel dissatisfied with it, and desirous of boiling some narcotic or poisonous herb in it, or brewing it with something which will impart to it more or less of alcohol. The wonder is, not that some of our epicures become drunkards, but that all of them do not.

Dr. Cadogan alludes to a sad mistake everywhere made about light food; and condemns, very justly, hard-boiled custards, pastry, &c. It is very strange that these substances—for these are among the injurious articles which I call mixtures—should ever have obtained currency in the world, to the exclusion of bread, which, as the same writer justly says, is among the lightest articles of food which are known.

It is strange, in particular, what views people have about bread. Judging from what I see, I am compelled to believe that there are few who regard it in any other light than as a kind of necessary evil. They appear to eat it, not because they are fond of it, by itself, but because they must eat it; or rather, because it is a fashionable article; and not to make believe they eat it, at the least, would be unfashionable. They will get rid of it, however, when they can. And when they must eat it, they soak it, or cover it with butter or milk, or something else which will render it tolerable—or toast it. And use it as they may, it must be hot from the oven. After it is once cold, very few will eat it. The idea, above all, of making a full meal of simple cold bread, twenty-four hours old, would be rejected by ninety-nine persons in a hundred; and by some with abhorrence.

People not only dislike bread, but regard it as unnutritious. I have heard many a fond parent say to the child who ate no meat, and seemed to depend almost wholly on bread—"Why, my dear child, you will starve if you eat no meat. Do at least put some butter on your bread or your potatoes." A thousand times have I been admonished, when eating my vegetable dinner during the hot and fatiguing days of summer—for I was bred to the farm, and ate little or no meat till I was fourteen years of age—to eat more butter, or cheese, or something that would give me strength; for I could not work, they said, without something more nourishing than bread and the other vegetables. And yet few if any boys of my age did more work, or performed it better, or with more ease, than myself. And I early observed the same thing in other vegetable eaters.

The truth is, there is nothing in the world better adapted to the daily wants of the human stomach than good bread; and few things more nutritious. There may be a little more nutriment in eggs or jelly; but if the former are hard-boiled, the stomach cannot digest them; and fat meat of any kind is digested with great difficulty. Indeed it is doubtful whether stomachs in temperate climates digest fat at all. They may dissolve it, but that is not making good chyle of it. They may even reduce it to chyle; but chyle is not blood. Fat may slip through the system without much of it adhering; and I think it pretty evident that it usually does so.

The muscle—the lean part of animals—may be nearly as nutritious as good bread, and is more easily digested. But it is very far from being proved that, for the healthy, those things are always best which are most easily digested. Nobody will pretend that potatoes are better for us than bread; and yet the experiments of Dr. Beaumont seem to prove that boiled or roasted potatoes are much more quick and easy of digestion than bread of the first and best quality. Even over-boiled eggs and raw cabbage, bad as they are, are dissolved in the stomach, and appear to be digested as quick, if not quicker, than good wheat bread. But nobody in the world will pretend they form more wholesome food. Neither is meat—even lean meat—necessarily more wholesome, or better calculated to give strength than bread, simply be cause it is more quickly and easily digested. It would be nearer the truth to say, that those substances which digest slowest (provided they do not irritate) are best adapted to the wants of the human stomach.

The philosopher LOCKE—perhaps from his knowledge of medicine—gives some excellent directions on this subject. "Great care should be used," be says, that the child "eat bread plentifully, both alone and with everything else; and whatever he eats that is solid, make him chew it well." This writer, by the way, supposed that the teeth were made to be used in beating our food; and that we ought neither to swallow it without chewing, as is customary in our busy New England, nor to mash or soak it in order to save the labor of mastication—a practice almost equally universal. But let us hear his own words.

"As for his diet, it ought to be very plain and simple; and if I might advise, flesh should be forborne, at least till he is two or three years old. But of whatever advantage this may be to his future health and strength, I fear it will hardly be consented to by parents, misled by the custom of eating too much flesh themselves, who will be apt to think their children—as they do themselves—in danger to be starved; if they have not flesh at least twice a day. This I am sure, children would breed their teeth with much less danger, be freer from diseases while they were little, and lay the foundations of a healthy and strong constitution much surer, if they were not crammed so much as they are, by fond mothers and foolish servants, and were kept wholly from flesh the first three or four years of their lives."

Were Locke still living, I should like to interrogate him at this place. He first speaks of giving children no meat till they are two or three years old; and then afterwards extends the period to three or four. The question I would put is this: If the child is healthier without meat till he is three or four years old, why not till he is thirteen or fourteen; or even till thirty, or forty, or seventy? And is not Professor Stuart, of Andover—a meat eater himself, and an advocate for its moderate use by those who have already been trained to the use of it—is not the Professor, I say, more than half right when he asserts, as I have heard him, that it may be well to train all children, from the first, to the exclusive use of vegetable food?

I have a few more extracts from Locke, particularly on the subject of bread.

"I should think that a good piece of well made and well baked brown bread would be often the best breakfast for my young master. I am sure it is as wholesome, and will make him as strong a man, as greater delicacies; and if he be used to it, it will be as pleasant to him.

"If he, at any time, call for victuals between meals, use him to nothing but dry bread. If he be hungry more than wanton, bread will go down; and if he be not hungry, it is not fit that he should eat. By this you will obtain two good effects. First, that by custom he will come to be in love with bread; for, as I said, our palates and stomachs, too, are pleased with the things we are used to. Another good you will gain hereby is, that you will not teach him to eat more nor oftener than nature requires.

"I do not think that all people's appetites are alike; some have naturally stronger and some weaker stomachs. But this I think, that many are made gormands and gluttons by custom, that were not so by nature. And I see, in some countries, men as lusty and strong, that eat but two meals a day, as those that have set their stomachs, by a constant usage, to call on them for four or five.

"The Romans usually fasted till supper, the only set meal, even of those who ate more than once in a day; and those who used breakfasts, as some did at eight, same at ten, others at twelve of the clock, and some later, neither ate flesh nor had anything made ready for them.

"Augustus, when the greatest monarch on the earth, tells us he took a piece of dry bread in his chariot; and Seneca, in his 83d epistle, giving an account how be managed himself when he was old, and his age permitted indulgence, says that he used to eat a piece of dry bread for his dinner, without the formality of sitting to it. Yet Seneca, as it is well known, was wealthy.

"The masters of the world were brought up with this spare diet, and the young gentlemen of Rome felt no want of strength or spirit because they ate but once a day. Or if it happened by chance that any one could not fast so long as till supper, their only set meal, he took nothing but a bit of dry bread, or at most a few raisins or some such slight thing with it, to stay his stomach. And more than one set meal a day was thought so monstrous that it was a reproach, as low as Caesar's time, to make an entertainment, or sit down to a table, till towards sunset. Therefore I judge it most convenient that my young master should have nothing but bread for breakfast. I impute a great part of our diseases in England to our eating too much flesh, and too little bread. Dry bread, though the best nourishment, has the least temptation."

I shall not undertake to defend all the sentiments of Mr. Locke in these extracts; but in regard to the main point—the nutritive properties and wholesome tendency of bread, and the importance of making it a principal article of diet for children—I think his views are just. In short, they do not differ, substantially, from those of a large proportion of the best writers on this subject in every country, during the last three hundred years. As if with one voice, they dissuade from the use of too much animal food for the young, and encourage the use of a larger proportion of vegetable food—bread, plain puddings, rice, potatoes, turnips, beets, apples, pears, &c., and milk.

Yet they all, or nearly all, seem to write just as if they did not expect to be believed; or if believed, to be followed. They seem to regard mankind as so inveterately attached to old habits, and so much addicted to flesh eating, that there is little hope of reclaiming them.

Now, though my opinions are no more entitled to respect than many of theirs, I hope for greater success than they appear to do. I expect that many young mothers who read this work, will be led to think and inquire further on the subject; and if they find that the views here advanced are in accordance with reason, and common sense, and higher authority, I am not without hope that they will reform, and do what they can to reform their neighbors.

I have dwelt the longer, in this section, on the general principles of diet, because I am of opinion that whatever is true, on this subject, in regard to the diet of children, soon after weaning, is equally, or nearly equally applicable to the whole of childhood, youth, manhood and age. It is not true that one period of life, and one mode of employment, demands a diet essentially different from that which is demanded at another period, and in other circumstances; provided always, that the individual is in health. Occasional instances of the kind, there may be; but they are not numerous.

The digestive powers of the young are more nearly as strong as those of the adult than is usually admitted, and they are much more active. They require a less quantity of food, undoubtedly; and they should be fed at shorter intervals. But as a general rule, what is best for them, as regards its quality, at three years old, is best for them at thirty; or, should they live so long, at ninety. I repeat it; there is very little difference in the nature of the food required ever after teething.

Let me not be understood as saying that the strong, and the robust, and the active cannot digest food which the weak, and enervated, and indolent cannot. Undoubtedly they can. But this does not prove that they ought to do it. It does not prove that their strength and vigor were not given them for other purposes than to be expended on the poorer substances for food, when they might have better. Nor is it true, as often pretended, that the hard laborer needs either more food, or that which is of a stronger quality, just in proportion to the severity of his labor. The man or the child who labors moderately, just sufficient for the purposes of health, and labors with his hands in the open air, needs rather more food than the indolent or the sedentary, or those who labor to excess; but not that which is of a stronger quality. It is he who labors to excess—if any difference of quality were required at all—who should eat milder food, as well as less in quantity.

Some physicians there are who tell us that all mankind would live longer, as well as be more healthful, if they ate nothing but bread, and drank nothing but water. It may be so, but I do not believe it. Water, as I shall show hereafter, is indeed the only appropriate drink; but I do not believe that bread, even after the second year, is in all cases and circumstances the best food. Besides that the experiments of Majendie and other physiologists go a little way—though not far, I confess—to prove that animals generally, (and if so, why not man, as well as the rest?) thrive best with some degree of variety in their food, it seems to me more in accordance with the general intentions of the Creator, so far as we can discover what they are.

While, therefore, I deny that either milk or bread is better, in all cases, for human sustenance, than any other articles of food, I must, at the same time, be permitted to regard them as among the best, and as deserving more general attention. Every infant, after leaving the breast, should, as it seems to me, make bread, in some of its forms, a chief article of food.

This article, so justly and emphatically called the staff of life, may be found in almost every country. Common sense seems to have dictated the propriety of its use; though fashion has often led us to overlook or despise it—like air, and fire, and water, and nearly every other common but indispensable blessing.

The best kind of bread is made from wheat, the worst from bark, saw-dust, &c. Wood and bark afford so little nutriment, that it is only in such countries as Norway, Sweden, Lapland. Iceland, Greenland, and Siberia, that the inhabitants can be induced to make use of them. Here they are often useful; either because people cannot get food which is better, or to blend with their fat or oily animal food. For it should never be forgotten, that healthy digestion requires a large proportion of innutritious matter along with the pure nutriment. In order to make bread from wheat, the meal should not be bolted. If it seems to contain particles which are too coarse, it may be well to pass it through a coarse family sieve; but the best bread I have ever eaten, as well as the cleanest and neatest, was not sifted at all.

I know there is an almost universal prejudice against this sort of bread. Some complain that it scratches their throats; others, that it is tasteless; and others still, that it does not agree with them. With others there is another objection—which is that bread of this sort has sometimes been called dyspepsia bread; and with others still, that it has been called Graham bread. Either of these appellations seems sufficient to condemn it.

Now as to the harshness, this is owing to its being made of bad materials, or to its being baked too hard, or kept too long. Much of what they call dyspepsia bread, in our cities, is evidently made by mixing the bran and flour of wheat after they have been once separated; besides which, in not a few cases, the finest of the flour appears to be taken away. Now bread made of such materials thus combined, will always be darker colored, as well as harsher, than when made from the wheat, simply ground without any bolting, and wet up in the usual manner. Such bread is best two or three days old. After four days, it becomes dry and somewhat harsh.

They who complain that such bread is insipid, are persons whose appetites have been injured by food which is high-seasoned; and who, if they eat bread at all, must eat it hot, or soaked in butter. No wonder such persons do not like plain bread, and say it is tasteless. But it must not be denied that bakers often suffer this kind of bread to be over-risen, in order to make it sufficiently light and porous. This renders it less tasteful, and from the saleratus they use, less wholesome.

No child who has been accustomed, from the first, to good wheaten bread, made of unbolted meal, and not less than one day old, will ever prefer any other, until he has been rendered capricious on this subject, and wishes to change for the sake of changing, or until he has been misled by surrounding example. I speak from observation when I say that infants, whose habits have not been depraved, will not prefer hot bread of any kind. "It is hot, mother," I have heard them say, as an apology for refusing a piece of bread; but never, "It is cold," or "It is too old."

It is the epicurean—it is he with whom it is a sufficient objection to any kind of food whatever, that he has used it for several successive meals or days—that is most ready to complain of good bread. He whose habits are correct, and who is the more unwilling to change any of his articles of diet, the longer he has been in the use of them, and who only changes them, or uses variety, from principle—he, I say, will never complain of harshness or want of taste in good wheat bread; nor will it be an objection of weight with him that Mr. Graham has recommended it, or that it has either prevented or cured dyspepsia.

Nor will the epicurean himself complain that bread is insipid, after being confined to it for a month or six weeks. He will then find a sweetness in it, for which he had long sought in vain in the more delicate and costly viands of a luxurious, and expensive, and unchristian modern table.

It is they only who observe simplicity, and confine themselves to very plain food, who truly enjoy pleasure in eating. The bulk of mankind benumb their sense of taste by their high-seasoned, over-stimulating food and drink, and by such constant variety and strange mixtures; and thus, in their eager cry, "Who will show us any good?" they actually enjoy less than he who eats plain food, and is contented with it.

Bread of all kinds is greatly improved in whiteness and pleasantness by being wet with milk; though even when wet with nothing but water, there is a solid and rational sweetness to it, of which the despisers of bread, and devourers of much flesh and condiments never dreamed, and never will dream, till they reform their habits.

If children are furnished with good bread, on the plan of Mr. Locke, there is no doubt that they will relish it most keenly; that their attachment to it will strengthen, and that unless we give them other food occasionally, from principle, or seduce them by depraving their tastes, they will continue it through life. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it," is a general rule, and has as few exceptions, when applied to the diet of a child, as when it is applied to his moral tastes and preferences.

With those parents who, though convinced of the justness of the views here advanced, have already trained their children in the way they should not go, but are anxious to retrace their steps as far as possible, there will here be a difficulty. "Our children," they will say, "do not, at present, relish the kind of bread you speak of; and how shall we bring them to do so? or is the thing indeed possible?"

The answer to these inquiries is easy. Such parents have only to confine their children to the kinds of food which they deem proper for them, a few weeks or a few months, and they will soon relish them. If those who are old enough to be convinced can be brought to unite heartily in the change, and to endeavor to be pleased with it, the work of reformation will be more pleasant and probably more speedy. I have never found any difficulty of bringing myself to relish in a very short time an article of food for which I had no relish before, and to which I had even a dislike, provided I was thoroughly convinced it was best for me, and was earnest in the desire of change—except sweet oil, to which I was about six months in becoming reconciled.

It is with physical, as with moral habits, in their formation. We should fix on what we believe, from experience, observation, and divine and human testimony, is best for us, and habit will soon render it agreeable. It is important, even to health, that food should be agreeable; but as I have already said, what we know to be best for us will soon become agreeable, if we confine ourselves to it; and to our children also, if we confine them to it, in like manner.

Next to bread made of wheat—when that cannot be procured—is a mixture of wheat and Indian meal; but the proportion of the latter should be the smallest. Wheat, rye, and Indian, in the proportion of one third of each, make excellent bread, sometimes called third bread. Rye and Indian make a tolerable bread. Rye alone is not so good. The want, in the latter, of the vegetable principle called gluten, makes its general use of very questionable propriety.

Indian meal alone, baked in cakes by the fire, if eaten only in small quantities, is a very nutritious and by no means unwholesome bread. But its sweetness, and the general fondness which people who are accustomed to its use have for it, lead them to eat it in too large proportions, if they use it while it is warm. In these circumstances, it proves itself too active for the stomach and bowels. If warm, six ounces is as much as a hearty adult ought to eat of it at once; and children should of course take much less. It is less active on the bowels, and scarcely less agreeable, as soon as we become accustomed to it, if eaten when it is cold—even if baked in loaves, in the oven.

Potatoes, added to unbolted wheat flour, make excellent bread; and so, as I am informed, does rice. Of the latter, however, I have never eaten. Oats and barley, and many other grains and substances, will make bread; but it is of an inferior kind.

The question may again recur, after this extended series of remarks, whether I intend to confine the young almost exclusively to bread, in one or another of its forms. We shall see how this is, presently.

While bread, therefore, should constitute a part, at least, and sometimes the whole of a meal, a great variety of other articles are not only admissible, but desirable. Among these may be mentioned plain puddings.

One of the most wholesome puddings is made of Indian meal, enclosed in a bag and boiled. Nearly allied to this is the common hasty pudding; but the last is less wholesome, because it requires less chewing; and it ought to have been observed, before now, that after weaning, any food is digested better which has undergone the process of thorough mastication.

Boiled rice, though hardly to be regarded as a pudding, is very nutritious, and very easy of digestion. I am not without doubts, however, in regard to the utility of a large proportion of rice, as food. A dinner of it, two or three times a week, I believe to be wholesome; but used too frequently, it seems to me not active enough for the stomach and bowels; having in this respect precisely a contrary effect to that of warm Indian cakes. The common notion that rice has a tendency to make people blind, is entirely unfounded. Its worst effect is when eaten without being boiled through. In such cases, I have known it to do mischief; perhaps because it was swallowed without much chewing. Some grind it, and use the flour; but I cannot recommend it to be used in this manner.

The best pudding in the world is a loaf of bread, (What!—you will say—bread again?) three or four or five days old, boiled, or rather steamed, in milk. All kinds of bread are excellent for this purpose, but wheat and Indian are the best. They are excellent even without milk—that is, simply steamed.

Puddings made of the flour of wheat, rye, buckwheat, &c., are less wholesome than those which have been already mentioned. And all sorts of puddings are less wholesome, when eaten as hot as our unreasonable fashions require, than when their temperature is quite below that of our bodies. I would not have them so cold as to chill us, for this would be to go to the other, though less dangerous extreme; but they ought to be cool. Too much heat is an unnatural stimulus, likely to leave more or less debility behind it. In addition to this, those who eat hot food are more exposed to take cold, in consequence of it.

With none of these puddings ought we to mix any fruits, green or dried—not even raisins. Some of the more important properties of nearly every kind of fruit or berry are lost by boiling, unless we eat the water in which they are boiled, and save the vapor which would otherwise escape. I am not in favor of boiled fruit generally, especially if boiled in puddings.

Puddings, like most other kinds of food—even bread—may be slightly salted: not that this is indispensable, but because the balance of human testimony is in its favor. The argument that we evidently need salt because the other animals require it, is without much weight. The other animals do not generally require or use it.[Footnote: Some considerable savage nations use no salt, and a few have a strong aversion to it.] The cases so often triumphantly mentioned, where animals appear to thrive better from the use of it, are only exceptions to the general rule, nor are they very numerous in comparison with the whole race of animals. Still I have no objections to its moderate use. It may be useful in preventing worms; though there are doubts even of that. In large quantities, it is unquestionably hurtful.

But neither fruits nor berries—permit me to repeat the sentiment—no, nor any such thing as cinnamon or spices, nor even sugar or molasses in any considerable quantity, should go into the composition of any sort of pudding. If the puddings are not sweet enough without, it is better to add a little sugar or molasses on your plate. Nor should sauces, or cream, or butter, or suet be used in or upon them; though of all these substances, cream is least injurious. Nutmegs, grated cheese, &c., are unnecessary and hurtful. Cheese should never be eaten, in any way.

There is one thing, however, which may be eaten in moderate quantity with all sorts of puddings and with bread; I mean milk. I say eaten with, for it is better never to put these substances, nor indeed any other, into the milk. The bread, pudding, &c., should be eaten by itself, and the milk by itself, also. In this way we shall not be liable to cheat the teeth out of what is justly their due, and then make the deranged stomach and general system pay for it.

Potatoes are a good article of diet—to be used once a day—though they are not very nutritious. They are best either steamed or roasted in the ashes. They are also excellent when boiled. Turnips are also good. Onions are not so useful as is generally supposed, except for the purposes of medicine.

Beets; in small quantity, and carrots and asparagus, and above all, beans and peas—but not their pods—are tolerable food once a day, during most of the year, except it be the middle of the winter. But neither these, nor potatoes, nor any other vegetables, ought to be cooked in any way with fat, or fat meat, or butter; or be mashed after they are cooked, or eaten with oil or butter.

If there be an exception to this general rule—which may seem to be rather sweeping—it should be in favor of a little sweet oil on rice, or on bread puddings. But the common practice, founded upon the apparent belief that we can scarcely eat anything until it is well covered with lard or butter, is quite objectionable—nay, it is even disgusting. No pure stomach would ever prefer oily bread, or pudding, or beans, or peas; and most people would abhor the sight of such a strange combination, were not habit, in its power to change our very nature, almost omnipotent.

SEC. 10. Remarks on Fruit.

There is a very great diversity of opinion on the subject of fruit. Some maintain that all fruit, even in the most ripe and perfect state, is of doubtful utility, especially for children. Others say none is hurtful, if ripe, and eaten in moderate quantity. Some require care in making a proper selection; but here again, in regard to what constitutes a proper selection, there is a difference of opinion. Some consider fruits easy of digestion; others believe they are digested only with very great difficulty.

When the cholera prevailed in the large cities of the United States, a majority of the physicians believed all fruits, even those which were ripe, to be injurious in their tendency. But it was insisted by the minority—I think very justly—that whenever fruit appeared to be injurious, it was accidental—that is, the disease, being prepared to make its attack just at that time, happened to do so immediately after the use of fruit, rather than something else, and especially in the season of fruits—or on account of excess; or (which was certainly the case in some instances) because the quality of the fruit was bad.

At present, the weight of testimony on this subject—estimating according to talent, and not according to numbers—is in favor of good fruit, used with moderation—even in the face of the cholera. Dr. Dunglison—one of the last to adopt such an opinion—appears to be in its favor.

On several points, in regard to fruit, I believe that among medical men there is no essential difference of opinion. As I always prefer, in controversies, to see in how many things antagonists agree, before proceeding to the points in which they differ, I will here endeavor to enumerate them.

1. All unripe fruits, especially, if eaten raw and uncooked—let the season, or prevalent disease, or individual, be what or who it may—are unwholesome.

2. Excess, in the use of the most wholesome fruits, under any circumstances, is also injurious.

3. Fruits, eaten immediately after a full meal, when the stomach is in an improper condition for receiving anything more, contribute to overtask the digestive powers, and must hence produce more or less of injury.

4. The skins and kernels of the larger fruits are unwholesome, because indigestible. The skins of fruits, if beaten or masticated finely; may appear to be digested, because dissolved; but I have already endeavored to show that solution is not always digestion.

5. Fruits of all kinds are most wholesome in their own country, and in their own appropriate season.

6. Dried fruits are less wholesome than fresh.

7. Fruit of all kinds should be withheld from infants, until they have teeth.

Thus far, as I have already said, all agree; at least so far as I know. There are several other points on which medical men are generally agreed, though not universally. One of these is, that fruits, if eaten at all, should usually form a part of a regular meal. Another is, that it is better not to eat them immediately before going to bed.

There are contradictory opinions among the mass of the community, physicians as well as others, on the general intention of our summer fruits. From the fact that children's diseases prevail more at the season of the year when fruits are more abundant, many think the fruits are the immediate cause of them. Others, and with better reason, suppose that the latter are intended by the Author of nature to check or prevent the bowel diseases of summer.

Nothing, certainly, is more unnatural than to suppose that at the very season of the year when so many other influences combine to awaken a tendency to disease in the human system, the Creator should place before our eyes an abundance of fruits, inviting us by all their cooling and tempting properties, only to do us mischief. On the contrary, it seems to me much more probable that many of them were designed for our moderate use. In what quantity, under what circumstances, and which are best, it is left to human experience to determine.

Some say that fruit should never be eaten in the morning, before breakfast. Now everything I know of the human constitution, together with what I have learned from experience and observation, has been for years leading me to the contrary opinion. Indeed, I am most fully convinced, that of all periods for eating fruit, whether we use it alone or make it a part of our regular meals, the morning, soon after we rise, is the most favorable. [Footnote: I ought to remark, that as the morning is the best time for eating good fruit, so it is the very worst time for eating it if not good; and as a large proportion of that which is eaten is unripe, or otherwise bad, this may account for the general prejudice against eating it at this period.] My reasons are as follows:

1. The rest and sleep of the preceding night has restored our general vigor, and consequently has invigorated the stomach, so that digestion will be more easily and perfectly accomplished.

2. We have been, at our rising, so long without food on our stomachs, that they are not likely to be oppressed by a moderate quantity of good, ripe, wholesome fruit. In the course of our waking hours, meals follow each other in such quick succession, and there is so much variety, even at the plainest tables, to tempt us to excess, that there is more danger of injury from the addition of fruit than at our first rising.

3. I have never known any one to receive injury from the use of fruit in this way, provided no other circumstance in relation to quantity, quality, &c. had been disregarded. In my own case, the practice has, on the contrary, seemed beneficial.

4. There is one reason in favor of this practice which perhaps would have less weight, if people rose as early in the morning as they ought; or, in the language of Dr. Franklin to the inhabitants of Paris, if they knew that the sun gives light as soon as he rises. I allude to the demand which I conceive that the stomach makes for something, after so long fasting, and the pernicious custom of late breakfasts. I am persuaded that it is advisable to eat something nearly as soon as we rise, be it never so early; and if we can get nothing else for breakfast, and have not accustomed ourselves to relish a piece of good bread, or some other simple thing, which requires no labor of preparation, I think it perfectly proper to eat a small quantity of fruit.

We come now to the particular consideration of some of those fruits which universal experience has shown to be the most salutary.

Of all these, none is more wholesome than the apple. There is indeed a great diversity in the quality even of this single article. Sweet apples are the most nutritious; but perhaps those which are gently acid, and at the same time mealy, are rather more cooling, and when eaten raw, and in the heat of summer, not less wholesome.

Apples which come to maturity very early in the season appear, as a general rule, to be less rich, and even less perfect, than those which ripen later. In view of this fact, some writers have endeavored to dissuade us from their use; and among others, Mr. Locke. We may judge a little what his opinions were, from his concluding remarks on the subject:—"I never knew apples hurt anybody," says he, "after October."

But although neither apples nor any other fruits which ripen uncommonly early are quite so good as those which come in a little later, yet I do not think they are to be wholly rejected, unless they have been raised in hot houses. Fruits, and indeed vegetables in general, whose maturity is hastened by artificial processes, must be less wholesome than when brought to perfection in nature's own appropriate time and manner. I ought to say, however, very distinctly, that of the fruits of any particular tree, those which first ripen are always the worst; for they are usually wormy, or otherwise defective.

Most of the fruit, as well as other vegetables, brought to our city markets in this country, is utterly unfit to be eaten. Sometimes it is immature; sometimes it has a hot house maturity; sometimes it has been picked so long that it has begun to decay. Many fruits—berries especially—are in perfection for a very short period only. Mulberries, for example—one kind especially—are not in perfection long enough to carry to the market house, even though the distance were very small. Luckily, however, very few mulberries are eaten. But the raspberry and strawberry, if perfect when gathered, have usually begun to decay, before they are purchased. That this appears to be rather unfrequent, is because they are gathered before they are ripe.

Dr. Dewees regards most fruits as difficult of digestion. I do not think they are so, if perfect and ripe. The experiments of Dr. Beaumont, so far as they prove any general principle, show conclusively that mellow sweet apples are more quickly digested than any kind of vegetable food whatever, except rice and sago. But even admitting they were slow of digestion, I do not think—as I have already shown in another place—that they ought on that account to be excluded. Besides, my opinion differs from that of Dr. D. in regard to the strength of the digestive powers of children. After teething, they seem to me to be able to digest any substances which adults can; and with as little difficulty.

But to return:—No fruit is in perfection longer than the apple. Besides, no fruit appears to be less injured in its nature and properties by picking it a little before it is ripe, and preserving it during the winter. It is on this account, more perhaps than any other, that I value it more highly than all other fruits united.

Apples may be used either raw or cooked. In either case, the skins and seeds should be avoided, as has been before suggested. I am not ignorant that WILLICH, in his "Lectures on Diet and Regimen"—an excellent work, in the main—says that the seeds ought to be eaten; but I believe few physiologists would comply with his injunction, especially when it is considered that he recommends, in the same connection, that we swallow the stones of cherries and plums. Strange how far our theories will sometimes carry us!

The apple is excellent when roasted or baked, especially the sweet apple. It is very common, in some places, to eat baked sweet apples with milk; and the practice is by no means a bad one. Indeed, baked or raw apples might be advantageously made a part of at least one of our meals every day. There is said to be a miserly farmer—a single gentleman—in the western part of the state of Massachusetts, who has lived on nothing but apples for his food, and water for his drink, about forty years. And yet he is said to enjoy the most perfect health. I do not propose this as an example worthy of imitation; but it shows that apples maybe made to subserve an important purpose in diet. And though I have more than once expressed an opinion highly unfavorable to the exclusive use of any one article of diet, yet if I were to confine myself to any one thing, I know of nothing except bread that I should prefer to good apples. Still, however, I prefer a variety—sweet, sour, early, late, &c.; and I should use them raw, roasted, baked, made into sauce with new or unfermented cider, and boiled. Good apples, eaten raw, with bread, form not only a very wholesome, but, to an unperverted appetite, a most delicious dinner.

Much has been said about cutting down orchards; but the whole seems to me idle—for if the fruit is of a good quality, it may be used as food, either for man or beast. And if not good, the trees ought either to be destroyed or replaced by those that will produce fruit which is better—even if the object were to make it into cider. I have said that apples may be used both by man and beast. It is well known that most domestic animals thrive well on good apples, especially sweet ones. Very tolerable molasses is also sometimes made from sweet apples.

Nearly everything which has been said above in regard to apples, will apply to pears. The best varieties of this excellent fruit are quite as nutritious and as wholesome as the apple; and as much improved for the table by baking. I believe, however, that no cheap process has yet been devised for keeping them as long in the winter. They may be preserved in the form of sauce, prepared in the same way with common apple sauce. The skins, of many kinds of pears are less injurious than those of apples; but even the skins of pears need not be eaten.

Some kinds of peaches are tolerably wholesome; but the stringy character of their pulp appears to me to render them less so than apples and pears, though I am not confident on this point. But if used at all, they should be used in less quantity at one time. Tempting as their flavor is, I seldom eat them, when I can get apples and pears; holding myself in duty bound to use the best, even of the fruits.

"Fruit," says Mr. Locke, "makes one of the most difficult chapters in the government of health, especially that of children. Our first parents ventured Paradise for it; and it is no wonder our children cannot stand the temptation, though it cost them their health. The regulation of this cannot come under any one general rule; for I am by no means of their mind who would keep children wholly from fruit, as a thing totally unwholesome for them, by which strict way they make them but the more ravenous after it, to eat good or bad, ripe or unripe, all that they can get, whenever they come at it.

"Melons, peaches, most sorts of plums, and all sorts of grapes, in England, I think children should be wholly kept from, as having a very tempting taste, in a very unwholesome juice, so that if it were possible, they should never so much as see them, or know that there was any such thing. But strawberries, cherries, gooseberries and currants, when thoroughly ripe, I think may be pretty safely allowed them."

Excellent as these remarks are, in general, I do not like his entire interdiction of the use of melons, peaches, plums, and grapes, even in England. Peaches, to be sure, as they come at a season when apples or pears, or both of them—which are more wholesome than peaches—are abundant, may be better omitted, delicious as they are to the taste; and I do not think very highly of plums. But melons, in very moderate quantity, and grapes, if we eat nothing but the ripe pulp, rejecting both the husk and the interior hard part, including the seeds, are, I think, useful and wholesome. On the other hand, I should never place cherries and gooseberries in the same list with strawberries; for the latter are, if I may use the expression, infinitely the most wholesome.

Many seem to think that not to eat all sorts of fruits is to despise, or at least to treat with neglect the gifts of God, intended for our reception; by which they mean, if they mean anything, that the use of all sorts of fruits is already found out, even in the present comparative infancy of the world. Now I do not suppose that God has made anything in vain—absolutely so—though I do not think we have found out the true uses of half the things which he has made and given us. And among those things of which we are yet ignorant, are some of the fruits. I do not believe it follows, necessarily, that because fruits are created, we are obliged to use them all.

Besides, if this is a rule, it is one which nobody follows. Every one uses more of some sorts, and fewer of others; and a large proportion of the community entirely reject some kinds. Now if the statement commonly made, that all fruits are the gifts of God, and ought therefore to be used by all persons, is correct, those who make the statement ought to conform to it as a rule of their lives, and to eat all kinds of fruit which the season and country affords; and not only eat all kinds, but see that the whole of every kind is consumed; since to waste any portion is to slight the good gifts of God.

The result then is, that we cannot obey such a rule; but are driven back to the mode which common sense dictates, which is, to make a selection, using some, and rejecting others. And the value of studying the nature of these fruits, by examining the experience of mankind in regard to them, consists in the aid thus afforded us in making our selection wisely.

There is one very common error in the use of the smaller summer fruits, such as strawberries, whortleberries, currants, &c., which is that of mixing cream, wine, spices, sugar, &c., with them. We are thus tempted to eat too great a quantity at once. Besides—which is a worse evil—we change the proportions of the saccharine parts, and thus do all in our power, by increasing a similarity in all fruits, to destroy that agreeable variety which God has established, and which is probably salutary.

SEC. 11. Confectionary.

By confectionary we here mean the substances usually sold at those shops in our cities distinguished by the general name of confectionaries, and which consist either wholly of sugar, or of sugar and some other substances combined.

As to the use of a moderate quantity of pure sugar at our meals, whether it is procured at a confectioner's shop or elsewhere, I do not know that there is any strong objection to it; though I believe that it cannot be regarded as indispensable to health—for were that the fact, it seems to me to imply something short of infinite wisdom in the creation of articles destined for our sustenance. But I have spoken on this subject elsewhere.

A part, however, of the contents of the confectionary shop are actually poisonous. I refer to those things which are either frosted, as it is called, or colored. The substances applied to the sugar for this purpose are usually some mineral or vegetable poison; although the fact of its being a poison may not always be known to the manufacturer. The most unhappy consequences have occasionally followed the use of confectionary, when poisoned in this manner. A family of four persons, in New York, were made sick in this way in March of year before last, and some of them came very near losing their lives. The "frosting" which caused the mischief was pronounced by eminent chemists to be one fifth rank poison.[Footnote: It is to be remembered that those who eat confectionary so slightly poisoned that it does not make them sick at once, may nevertheless be as much injured in their constitutions as they who are poisoned outright. In the latter case, the poison is in part thrown out of the body; in the former, it remains in it much longer—and therefore more surely, though more slowly, accomplishes the work of destruction.] The coloring substances used are sometimes poisonous, as well as the frosting.

Some of the articles sold at these shops consist of sugar mixed with paste. Others are called sweetmeats; that is, fruits, or rinds of fruits, preserved in sugar. All these substances, I believe, without exception, are injurious.

The great evils of confectionary yet remain to be mentioned. These are of three kinds, physical, mental and moral.

Some of the physical evils have, it is true, just been mentioned; but there is another evil of still greater magnitude. Young people who eat confectionary, commonly eat it between meals. This produces mischief in two ways. First, it keeps the stomach at work when it ought to rest; for this, like every other muscular organ, requires its seasons of repose. Secondly, it destroys gradually the appetite; so that when the regular meal arrives, the accustomed keenness of appetite does not come with it. And the consequence is, not so much that we do not eat enough, as that we are fastidious, and eat a little of this, then a little of that; and usually select the worst things. We are not hungry enough to make a meal of a single article of plain food. And this evil goes on increasing, as long as we have access to the confectionary shop. These statements describe the case of thousands of pupils, of both sexes, at our schools and seminaries.

The intellectual evil resulting from the use of confectionary consists in the fondness for excitement which is produced. You will seldom find a person who depends daily and almost hourly on some excitement to his appetite and stomach, and is not satisfied with plain food, who will content himself to study without unnatural excitements of the mind. Duty to himself or to others will not move him. He must have before him the hope of reward, or the fear of punishment. He must be moved by emulation or ambition, or some other questionable or wicked motive or passion.

But the moral results, to the young, of using confectionary, are still more dreadful. I do not here refer to the danger of meeting with bad company at the shops themselves, or of going from these places of pollution directly to the grog-shop, the gambling-house, or the brothel; though there is danger enough, even here. But I allude to the tendency which a habit of not resting satisfied with plain food, but of depending on exciting things, has, to make us dissatisfied with plain moral enjoyments—the society of friends, and the quiet discharge of our duty to God and our neighbor. Just in proportion as we gratify our propensity for excitement at the confectioner's shop, just in the same proportion do we expose ourselves to the, danger of yielding to temptation, should other gratifications present themselves. The young of both sexes who are in the use of confectionary, are on the high road to gluttony, drunkenness, or debauchery; perhaps to all three. I do not say they will certainly arrive there, for circumstances not quite miraculous may pluck them as "brands from the burning;" but I do not hesitate to say that such is the inevitable tendency; and I call on every mother and teacher who reads this section, to beware of confectionaries, and see, if possible, that the young never set foot in them. They are a road through which thousands pass to the chamber of death—death to the immortal spirit, as well as to the body, its vehicle.

More might be added—for this is an important subject—but I trust I have said enough. Those who have read and believe what I have written, if they remain wholly unaffected and unmoved, would not be roused to effort were anything to be added.

SEC. 12. Pastry.

Dr. Paris, a distinguished British writer on diet, says that all pastry is "an abomination." And yet, go where we will, we find it often on the table. Hardly any one, whether old or young, attempts to do without it.

There are indeed some, who will not eat pie-crust, or high-seasoned cakes formed of paste; but yet will not hesitate to eat hot bread, or rolls, or biscuits made of wheat flour, bolted. Now what is this but paste? If we could see the contents of the stomach, an hour after the mass is swallowed, we should find it to be paste, and mere paste.

And yet the evil is increasing everywhere. So generally is this true, that a person who refuses to eat hot bread, or cake, or biscuit, is deemed singular. He who ventures to lift his voice against it is deemed an ascetic or a visionary. But such a voice must be raised, and heard, too, whether its monitions are or are not regarded.

Pastry is less objectionable, however, when used in the form of hot bread, &c., than when butter or fat is mixed with it. Then it becomes one of the most indigestible substances in the world. Besides, it not only tries the patience of the stomach, but according to Willich, whose authority ranks high, it tends to produce diseases of the skin, especially a disease which he calls "copper in the face," and which he pronounces incurable.

I know not whether the eruptions so common on the faces of young people in this country, and especially of young men, are in every instance either produced or aggravated by pastry; but I am very sure of one thing, viz., that those who are in the use of pastry, and have eruptions of the skin of any kind, will not be apt to get well, as long as they continue the use of this objectionable substance.

Physicians are often consulted about eruptions on the face. When they assign the real cause, which is undoubtedly connected with the improper gratification of some of the appetites, in one way or another, it is seldom that the patient has self-command enough to follow his prescription of temperance or abstinence. Mothers, it is yours to prevent this mischief;—first, by establishing correct physical habits; secondly, by teaching your children the great duty of self-denial—not only by precept, but by your own good example.

SEC. 13. Crude or Raw Substances.

I have reserved this section for remarks on certain articles used at our fashionable modern tables, of which I could not well find it convenient to speak elsewhere. And first, of SALADS, and HERBS used in cooking; such as asparagus, artichokes, spinage, plantain, cabbage, dock, lettuce, water-cresses, chives, &c.

Several of these substances are often eaten raw, in which state they are exceedingly indigestible, at the best; and they are rendered still more beyond the reach of the powers of the stomach, by the oil or vinegar which is added to them. Boiled, they are more tolerable; especially asparagus. In the midst, however, of such an abundance of excellent food as this country affords, it is most surprising that anybody should ever take it into their heads to eat such crude substances; and above all, that they should fill children's stomachs with them. What child, with an unperverted appetite, would not prefer a good ripe apple, or peach, or pear, to the most approved raw salads?—and a good baked one, to the best boiled asparagus?

NUTS, in general, are probably made for other animals rather than man; though of this we cannot in the present infancy of human knowledge be quite certain. But if any of them were intended, by the Creator, for man, it is the chesnut; and this should be boiled. Boiled chesnuts are used as food, in many parts of southern Europe; and to a very considerable extent.

SPICES, as they are sometimes called, such as nutmeg, mace, pepper, pimento; cubebs, cardamoms, juniper berries, ginger, calamus, cloves, cinnamon, caraway, coriander, fennel, parsley, dill, sage, marjoram, thyme, pennyroyal, lavender, hyssop, peppermint, &c., are unfit for the human stomach—above all in infancy—except as medicines.

There are several other vegetables equally objectionable with the last, though they cannot be classed under the same head. Such are mustard, horseradish, raw onions, garlic, cucumbers, and pickles. No appetite which has not been accustomed to these substances in early infancy, will ever require them. Not that they may not sometimes be useful in enabling the stomach—at every age—to get rid of certain substances with which it has been improperly or unreasonably loaded;—this is undoubtedly the fact; ardent spirits would do the same. And it is with a view to some such effect, generally, that medical writers have spoken in their favor. Some of them stimulate the stomach to get rid of a load of green fruit; others, of a load of fat or salt food; others, again, of too large a quantity of food which is naturally wholesome.

But in all these cases, they should be considered, not as food, but as medicine; and we ought to call them by their right name. And if we withhold the cause of the disease, there will be no need of the medicine.



CHAPTER VIII.

DRINKS.

Infants need little drink. Adults, even, generally drink to cool themselves. Simple water the best drink. Opinions of Dr. Oliver and Dr. Dewees. Animal food increases thirst. Only one real drink in the world. The true object of all drink. Tea, coffee, chocolate, beer, &c. Milk and water, molasses and water, &c. Cider, wine, and ardent spirits. Bad food and drink the most prolific sources of disease. Children naturally prefer water. Danger of hot drinks. Cold drinks. Mischief they produce. Caution to mothers. Extracts. Drinking cold water, while hot.

Children need little if any drink, so long as their food is nothing but milk; nor indeed for some time afterward, unless they are indulged in the use of animal food. Adults, even, very seldom drink merely to quench natural thirst. In the summer, people usually drink either to cool themselves, or to gratify a thirst which is wholly artificial. Tea, coffee, beer, cider, and most other common drinks, when not used for the sake of their coolness, are drank, both in winter and summer, for this purpose.

That this is the fact, we have the most abundant and unequivocal evidence. I know that much is said of the demand which a profuse perspiration creates among hard laborers in the summer. Such a sudden abstraction of a large amount of fluid requires, it is said, a proportional supply, or life would soon become extinct. Yet there are many old men who have perspired profusely at their labor all their days, and yet have drank nothing at all, except their tea, morning and evening; and perhaps have eaten, for one or two of their meals daily, in summer, a bowl of bread and milk. And some of them are among the most remarkable instances of longevity which the country affords.

How the system acquires a sufficient supply of moisture to keep up good health, in these cases, I do not pretend to determine: perhaps it is through the medium of the lungs. But at any rate, it can obtain it without our drinking for that sole purpose, to the great danger of exciting liver complaints, diarrhoea, dyspepsia, colds, rheumatisms, and fevers.

But if adults who perspire freely do not require much drink, children certainly do not; and above all, young children. And if they do require any thing, it is only simple water. The following remarks of Dr. Oliver, of Hanover, N.H., are extracted from Dr. Mussey's late Prize Essay on Ardent Spirits:

"Who has not observed the extreme satisfaction which children derive from quenching their thirst with pure water? And who that has perverted his appetite for drink, by stimulating his palate with bitter beer, sour cider, rum and water, and other beverages of human invention, but would be a gainer, even on the score of mere animal gratification, without any reference to health, if he could bring back his vitiated taste to the simple relish of nature?

"Children drink because they are dry. Grown people drink, whether dry or not, because they have discovered a way of making drink pleasant. Children drink water because this is a beverage of nature's own brewing, which she has made for the purpose of quenching a natural thirst. Grown people drink anything but water, because this fluid is intended to quench only a natural thirst; and natural thirst is a thing which they seldom feel."

There is a great deal of truth, as well as of sound philosophy, in these two paragraphs, and little less of truth in the following paragraph from Dr. Dewees:

"We have witnessed very often, with sorrow, parents giving to their young children wine, or other stimulating liquors. Nature never intended anything stronger than water to be the drink for children. This they enjoy greatly; and much advantage is occasionally experienced from its use, especially after they have commenced the use of animal food."

Two things are to be observed in the last remarks, which are, that children demand drink of any kind but seldom, and that even this occasional demand is often the special result of the use of animal food. Here comes out an important secret. It is the use of animal food, to a very great degree, in adults and children both, that creates so much of that unnatural thirst which prevails in the community. When we shall come to lay aside animal food, in childhood, youth, manhood and age, much that is now called thirst will be banished; and much of the intemperance and other kinds of sensuality which follow in its train.

It has been sometimes said that there is but one kind of drink in the world—and that is water. This is strictly, or rather physiologically true. For, though many mixtures are called drinks, it is only the water which they contain that answers any of the legitimate purposes for which drink was intended by the Creator.

The object of drink, besides quenching our thirst, or rather while it quenches it, is, not to be digested, like food, but to pass directly from the stomach into the blood-vessels, and dilute and temper the blood, rendering it more fit to answer the great purpose of sustaining life and health. Now, there is nothing that can do this but water. Alcohol cannot do it, nor can turpentine, oil, quicksilver, melted lead, or any other liquid.

Tea, coffee, chocolate, small beer, soda water, lemonade, &c., which are nearly all water, quench the thirst very well, it is true; but not quite so well as water alone would. The narcotic principle of the first two, the alcoholic principle of the fourth, and the mucilage, nutriment, acid, and alkali of the rest, are in the way; for thirst would be quenched still better without them, even when it is of an unnatural kind.

Indeed, the same or similar remarks may be made in regard to all other mixtures which are usually proposed as drinks. Even milk and water, molasses and water, &c., in favor of which so much is said, are objectionable, as mere drinks. Not that they contain anything poisonous, but they evidently contain nutriment; and even this, except as a part or the whole of a regular meal, does harm; for it sets the stomach at work when it needs repose. Mere drink, as I have already said, is never digested.

But if the drinks above mentioned, and even milk and water, are objectionable, what shall we say of cider, wine, and ardent spirits?—substances which contain, the latter one half, and the two former from one twentieth to one fourth alcohol. Surely, nobody will deny that these substances ought, at all events, to be banished from the nursery. And yet we occasionally find them there, not only for the use of the mother, to the ruin of the child, indirectly—but also, in some of their smoother forms, for the use of the child itself.

I would not lay too much stress on food and drink; for, as I have already observed, more than once, the causes of infantile ill health and mortality are numerous. Still I must insist that, of all the sources of disease, these are the most prolific. Much is done towards ruining the health of children by the improper food and drink of the mother. But when, in addition to all this, the children themselves are early fed with animal food, and with stimulating drinks—punch, coffee, tea, &c.—and an artificial thirst is early excited and rendered habitual, their destruction, for time and eternity, is almost inevitable.

Very few children relish any drink but water, or sweetened water, at first; and where they do, it is probably hereditary. I have been struck with their tastes and preferences; nor less with the folly of those around them, in endeavoring to change them, by requiring them—almost always against their will—to sip a little coffee, or a little tea, or a little lemonade; or, it may be, a little toddy. Such children may escape the death of the drunkard or the debauchee; but if they do, it will not be through the instrumentality of the parents.

I am very much opposed to giving children hot drinks of any kind. If they are to drink substances which are injurious, as tea or coffee, let them be cool. I do not say cold, for that would be going to the other extreme. But no drink, in any ordinary case, should be above the heat of our bodies; that is, about 98 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer. Yet the precautions of this paragraph will be almost unnecessary, if children are confined—as they ought to be, and would be, did we not go out of our way to teach them otherwise—to water, as their only drink. Cold water is almost always preferred. Not one child in a thousand would ever prefer it hot, until his taste had been perverted. No writer has inveighed more against hot drinks of every kind, than the late William Cobbett—and, as I think, with more justice.

But, in avoiding one rock, we must not, as has already been intimated, make shipwreck on another. Hot drinks, though they injure the powers of the stomach, and by that means and through that medium, are one principal cause of the almost universal early decay of teeth, are yet less injurious, or at least less dangerous, immediately, than cold ones. Mr. Locke, in speaking of the sports of a child, in the open air, has the following quaint, but judicious remarks:

"Playing in the open air has but this one danger in it, that I know; and that is, that when he is hot with running up and down, he should sit or lie down on the cold or moist earth. This, I grant, and drinking cold drink, when they are hot with labor or exercise, brings more people to the grave, or to the brink of it, by fevers and other diseases, than anything I know. These mischiefs are easily enough prevented when he is little, being then seldom out of sight. And if, during his childhood, he be constantly and rigorously kept from sitting on the ground, or drinking any cold liquor, while he is hot, the custom of forbearing, grown into habit, will help much to preserve him, when he is no longer under his maid's or tutor's eye.

"More fevers and surfeits are got by people's drinking when they are hot, than by any one thing I know. If he (the child) be very hot, he should by no means drink; at least a good piece of bread, first to be eaten, will gain time to warm his drink blood hot, which then he may drink safely. If he be very dry, it will go down so warmed, and quench his thirst better; and if he will not drink it so warmed, abstaining will not hurt him. Besides, this will teach him to forbear, which is a habit of the greatest use for health of mind and body too."

The last remarks are full of wisdom. Mothers may depend upon it, that every indulgence to which they accustom their children paves the way for habitual indulgence; and has a tendency to lead, indirectly, to indulgence in other matters; and, on the contrary, every self-denial which they can lead children to exercise, voluntarily—even in these every-day matters of food, drink, exercise, &c. is so much gained in the great work of self-denial and the resisting of temptation in matters of higher importance. But I must not moralize too long; having dwelt on this same point under the head Confectionary. I proceed, therefore, to make a few more extracts from Mr. Locke:

"Not being permitted to drink without eating, will prevent the custom of having the cup often at his nose; a dangerous beginning."

"Men often bring habitual hunger and thirst on themselves by custom."

"You may, if you please, bring any one to be thirsty every hour."

"I once lived in a house, where, to appease a froward child, they gave him drink as often as he cried, so that he was constantly bibbing. And though he could not speak, yet he drank more in twenty-four hours than I did."

"It is convenient, for health and sobriety, to drink no more than natural thirst requires; and he that eats not salt meats, nor drinks strong drink, will seldom thirst between meals."

Great mischief is often done to their health by children at school; and one instance of this is, in getting violently heated with exercise, and then pouring down large quantities of cold water to cool themselves. I once made it a habitual rule for pupils, that they must drink water, if they drank it at all, on leaving their seats to go to their plays, but not afterwards: and I was so situated that I could prevent the law from being broken, as there was no spring or well to which they could have access, privately. And though they thought the rule rather severe, I have no doubt it saved them from much injury, and perhaps sometimes from sickness.



CHAPTER IX.

GIVING MEDICINE.

"Prevention" better than "cure." Nine in ten infantile diseases caused by errors in diet and drink. Signs of failing health. Causes of a bad breath. Flesh eaters. Gormandizers. General rule for preventing disease. When to call a physician.

So much error prevails in regard to the medical management of the young, that a volume might be written without exhausting the subject.[Footnote: Such a volume is in preparation. It is intended as a companion to the present.] My present limits and plan allow of only a few remarks, and those must be general.

That "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," has so long ago become a proverb, that it seems almost idle to repeat the sentiment. And yet it is to be feared that very few receive it as a practical truth, in the management of children. Now nothing is more certain than that it is easier, as well as more humane, to prevent diseases than to cure them.

I have elsewhere mentioned the opinion of a very eminent physician, that nine in ten of children's diseases may be imputed to error with regard to the quantity or the quality of their food. For myself, I am by no means certain that nine out of ten is the exact proportion, though I think the number is, at all events, very large. Few children, or even grown persons, are seized with disease suddenly. Their progress towards it is always gradual, and sometimes imperceptible. To a physician of any tolerable degree of skill, however, there is no difficulty in observing and pointing out the first steps towards illness; in those whose habits of life are well known to him; and of foretelling the consequence.

But since parents and nurses are not so well qualified as physicians to make these observations, I will endeavor to point out a few certain signs and symptoms by which they may know a child's health to be declining, even before be appears to be sick.—For if these are neglected, the evil increases, goes on from bad to worse, and more violent and apparent complaints will follow, and perhaps end in incurable diseases, which a timely remedy, or a slight change in the diet and manner of life, would have infallibly prevented.

"The first tendency to disease," says Dr. Cadogan, "may be observed in a child's breath. It is not enough that the breath is not offensive; it should be sweet and fragrant, like a nosegay of fresh flowers, or a pail of new milk from a young cow that feeds upon the sweetest grass of the spring; and this as well at first waking in the morning, as all day long." [Footnote: Buchan's "Advice to Mothers," pages 337, 388]

There is much of truth in these remarks; but if they are wholly true, then very few children are perfectly healthy. For no child that eats much animal food of any sort, or, what amounts to nearly the same thing, much butter or gravy, will long retain the fragrant breath here alluded to. Who has not observed the difference in this respect, between animals in general which feed on flesh, and those which feed on grass? And whether it is the character of their respective food that makes the difference or not, it is also true that there is nearly as much difference of breath between men who use animal food and those who do not, as between other animals. The breath of some of our enormous meat eaters would almost remind one of a slaughter house.

Nor is it the quality of food alone, that will induce a foul breath, either in adults or infants. He who swallows such enormous quantities, even of plain food, as by overloading and fatiguing the stomach, tend gradually to debilitate it, will produce the same effect. The enormous feeders of this full feeding country, whether they are young or old, whether they inhabit the mountain or the vale, and whether they feed on animal food or not, have generally a bad breath; and if they seldom offend, it is because few feed otherwise. And it is not too much—in my own opinion—to say of this whole class of gormandizers, no less than of the flesh eaters, that they have laid for themselves the foundation of future disease.

One general rule may here be distinctly laid down. As a child's breath becomes hot and feverish, or strong, or acid, we may be certain that "digestion and surfeit have fouled and disturbed the blood; and now is the time to apply a proper remedy, and prevent a train of impending evils. Let the child be restrained in its food. Let it eat less, live upon milk or thin broth for a day or two, and be carried (or walk if it is able) a little more than usual in the open air." [Footnote: Advice to Mothers, page 338]

This rule is the more important, because, if duly persevered in, it will generally prevent disease, and save the trouble and evil consequences of taking medicine at all. Meanwhile it will be advisable to call in a physician—not to give drugs, but to prevent the necessity of giving them. There is a foolish fear abroad that physicians, if called before a person is violently sick, will dose him with their drugs, as a matter of course, till they make him sick. But this, no judicious physician will ever do. It may have been done, though I believe it has been seldom. The more general course is to defer calling for medical advice, till it is too late to use preventive means; and medicine is then resorted to by the physician as a sort of necessary evil.

A judicious physician, seasonably called in, would in many instances save a severe fit of sickness, besides a great deal of expense, both of time and money.

But if the first symptoms of approaching disease are overlooked—if the child is fed, or rather crammed; with solid food as much as ever—and if no medical advice is sought, his sleep will soon become disturbed; he will be talking, starting, and tumbling about, and will have frightful dreams; or he will at other times be found smiling and laughing. To these, in the end, may be added, loss of appetite, paleness, emaciation, weakness, cough, and consumption; or colics, worms, and convulsions.

I do not undertake to say that the most judicious parental management, aided by the greatest medical skill, will always prevent disease; far from it. The child may and undoubtedly sometimes does inherit a tendency to a particular disease; or he may be made sick by error in regard to dress, exercise, &c. But so long as nine tenths of the disease and early mortality of the young might be prevented by due attention to all these means combined, so long will it be necessary to reiterate the sentiments of the present section.



CHAPTER X

EXERCISE.

SEC. 1. Objections to the use of cradles.—SEC. 2. Carrying in the arms—its uses and abuses.—SEC. 3. Creeping—why useful—to be encouraged.—SEC. 4. Walking—general directions about it.—SEC. 5. Riding abroad in carriages.—SEC. 6. Riding on horseback—objections. Riding schools.

This subject may be considered under the following heads: ROCKING IN THE CRADLE; CARRYING IN THE ARMS; CREEPING; WALKING; RIDING IN A CARRIAGE; AND RIDING ON HORSEBACK. These I shall consider in their order.



SEC. 1. Rocking in the Cradle.

There are two opinions in regard to the use of the cradle in the nursery. Some condemn it altogether; others think its occasional use highly proper. Those who condemn it, do it chiefly on the ground that it produces a whirling motion of the brain, which, while it inclines to giddiness and lulls to sleep, disturbs, in some degree, the process of digestion.