Part 10

Milk contains every ingredient to build up the body, which is more than can be said of any other known substance. A child may live entirely, and become both healthy and strong, on milk, and on milk alone, as it contains every constituent of the human body. A child cannot “live by bread alone,” but he might on milk alone! Milk is animal and vegetable—it is meat and bread—it is a fluid, but as soon as it reaches the stomach it becomes a solid—solid food; it is the most important and valuable article of diet for a child in existence. It is a glorious food for the young, and must never, in any case, be dispensed with. How is milk, in the making of cheese, converted into curds? By rennet. What is rennet? The juice of a calf’s maw or stomach. The moment the milk enters the human maw or stomach, the juice of the stomach converts it into curds—into solid food, just as readily as when it enters a calf’s maw or stomach, and much more readily than by rennet, as the _fresh_ juice is stronger than the _stale_. An ignorant mother often complains that because, when her child is sick, the milk curdles, that it is a proof that it does not agree with him! If, at those times, it did _not_ curdle, it would, indeed, prove that his stomach was in a wretchedly weak state; she would, then, have abundant cause to be anxious. “Considering that milk contains in itself most of the constituents of a perfect diet, and is capable of maintaining life in infancy without the aid of any other substance, it is marvelous that the consumption of it is practically limited to so small a class; and not only so, but that in sick-rooms, where the patient is surrounded with every luxury, arrow-root, and other compounds containing much less nutriment, should so often be preferred to it.”

Do not let me be misunderstood. I do not mean to say but that the mixing of farinaceous food—such as Lemann’s Biscuit Powder, Robb’s Biscuit, Hards’ Farinaceous Food, Brown and Polson’s Corn Flour, and the like, with the milk, is an improvement—a great improvement; but still I maintain that a child might live and thrive, and that for a lengthened period, on milk—and on milk alone!

A dog will live and fatten for six weeks on milk alone! while he will starve and die in a shorter period on strong beef-tea alone!

It is a grievous sin for a milkman to adulterate milk. How many a poor infant has fallen a victim to that crime!—for crime it may truly be called.

It is folly in the extreme for a mother to bate a milkman down in the price of his milk; if she does, the milk is sure to be either of inferior quality, or adulterated, or diluted with water; and woe betide the poor unfortunate child if it be either the one or the other! The only way to insure good milk is to go to a respectable cow-keeper, and let him be made to thoroughly understand the importance of your child having _genuine_ milk, and that you are then willing to pay a fair remunerative price for it. Rest assured, that if you have to pay one penny or even twopence a quart more for _genuine_ milk, it is one of the best investments that you ever have made, or that you are ever likely to make, in this world! Cheap and inferior milk might well be called cheap and nasty; for inferior or adulterated milk is the very essence, the conglomeration, of nastiness; and, moreover, is very poisonous to a child’s stomach. One and the principal reason why so many children are rickety and scrofulous, is the horrid stuff called milk that is usually given to them. It is a crying evil, and demands a thorough investigation and reformation, and the individual interference of every parent. Limited Liability Companies are the order of the day; it would really be not a bad speculation if one was formed in every large town, in order to insure good, genuine, and undiluted milk.

_Young_ children, as a rule, are allowed to eat too much meat. It is a mistaken notion of a mother that they require so much animal food. If more milk were given, and less meat, they would be healthier, and would not be so predisposed to disease, especially to skin disease.

I should strongly recommend you, then, to be extravagant in your milk score. Each child ought, in the twenty-four hours, to take at least a quart of good, fresh, new milk. It should, of course, be given in various ways,—as bread and milk, rice puddings, milk, and different kinds of farinaceous food, stir-about, etc. etc.

140. _But suppose my child will not take milk, he having an aversion to it, what ought then to be done?_

Boil the milk, and sweeten it to suit his palate. After he has been accustomed to it for awhile, he will then, probably, like milk. Gradually reduce the sugar until at length it be dispensed with. A child will often take milk this way, whereas he will not otherwise touch it.

If a child will not drink milk, he _must_ eat meat; it is absolutely necessary that he should have either the one or the other; and, if he has cut nearly all his teeth, he ought to have both meat and milk—the former in moderation, the latter in abundance.

141. _Supposing milk should not agree with my child, what must then be done?_

Milk, either boiled or unboiled, almost always agrees with a child. If it does not, it must be looked upon as the exception, and not the rule. I would, in such a case, advise one-eighth of lime-water to be added to seven-eighths of new milk—that is to say, two tablespoonfuls of lime-water should be mixed with half a pint of new milk.

142. _Can you tell me of a way to prevent milk, in hot weather from turning sour?_

Let the jug of milk be put into a crock containing ice—either in the dairy or in the cellar. The ice should be kept wrapped either in a flannel or in a blanket, in a cool place until it be wanted.

143. _Is it necessary to give a child luncheon?_

If he want anything to eat between breakfast and dinner, let him have a piece of _dry_ bread; and if he has eaten very heartily at dinner, and, like Oliver Twist, “asks for more!” give him, to satisfy his craving, a piece of _dry_ bread. He will never eat more of that than will do him good, and yet he will take sufficient to satisfy his hunger, which is very important.

144. _What ought now to be his dinner?_

He should now have meat, either mutton or beef, daily, which must be cut up very small, and should be mixed with mealy _mashed_ potato and gravy. He ought _always_ to be accustomed to eat salt with his dinner. Let a mother see that this advice is followed, or evil consequences will inevitably ensue. Let him be closely watched, to ascertain that he well masticates his food, and that he does not eat too quickly; for young children are apt to bolt their food.

145. _Have you any objection to pork for a change?_

I have a great objection to it for the young. It is a rich, gross, and therefore unwholesome food for the delicate stomach of a child. I have known it, in several instances, produce violent pain, sickness, purging, and convulsions. If a child be fed much upon such meat, it will be likely to produce “breakings-out” on the skin. In fine, his blood will put on the same character as the food he is fed with. Moreover, pork might be considered a _strong_ meat, and “_strong_ meat and _strong_ drink can only be taken by _strong_ men.”

146. _Do you approve of veal for a child?_

My objection to pork was, that it was rich and gross; this does not apply to veal; but the objection to it is, that it is more difficult of digestion than either mutton or beef.

147. _Do you disapprove of salted and boiled beef for a child?_

If beef be _much_ salted it is hard of digestion, and therefore ought not to be given to him; but if it has been but _slightly_ salted, then for a change there will be no objection to a little.

There is no necessity in the _winter_ time to _salt_ meat intended for boiling; then, boiled _unsalted_ meat makes a nice change for a child’s dinner. Salt, of course, _must_ with the unsalted meat be eaten.

148. _But suppose there is nothing on the table that a child may with impunity eat?_

He should then have either a grilled mutton-chop, or a lightly boiled egg; indeed, the latter, at any time, makes an excellent change.

149. _Are potatoes an unwholesome food for a child?_

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

150. _Do you approve of any other vegetables for a child?_

Occasionally. Either asparagus, or broccoli, or cauliflower, or turnips, or French beans, which latter should be cut up fine, may with advantage be given.

151. _Might not a mother be too particular in dieting her child?_

Certainly not. If blood can be too pure and too good she might! When we take into account that the food we eat is converted into blood; that if the food be good, the blood is good; and that if the food be improper or impure, the blood is impure likewise; and, moreover, when we know that every part of the body is built up by the blood, we cannot be considered to be too particular in making our selection of food. Besides, if indigestible or improper food be taken into the stomach, the blood will not only be made impure, but the stomach and the bowels will be disordered.

Do not let me be misunderstood: I am no advocate for a child having the same food one day as another—certainly not. Let there be variety, but let it be _wholesome_ variety. Variety in a child’s (not in an infant’s) food is necessary. If he were fed, day after day, on mutton, his stomach would at length be brought into that state that in time it would not properly digest any other meat, and a miserable existence would be the result.

152. _What ought a child to drink with his dinner?_

Toast and water, or, if he prefer it, plain spring water. Let him have as much as he likes. If you give him water to drink, there is no fear of his taking too much; Nature will tell him when he has had enough. Be careful of the quality of the water, and the source from which you procure it. Soft spring water from a moderately deep well is the best. If it come from a land spring, it is apt, indeed is almost sure, to be contaminated by drains, etc., which is a frequent cause of fevers, of diphtheria, of Asiatic cholera, and of other blood poisons.

Guard against the drinking water being contaminated with lead; never, therefore, allow the water to be collected in leaden cisterns, as it sometimes is if the water be obtained from Water-works’ companies. Lead pumps, for the same reason, ought never to be used for drinking purposes. Paralysis, constipation, lead colic, dropping of the wrist, wasting of the ball of the thumb, loss of memory and broken and ruined health might result from neglect of this advice.

All honor to the man who first invented the Drinking Fountain, and all honor to the mayors and corporations of towns who see that they are kept in good, efficient working order! The drinking fountains are a great boon to poor children, as water, and plenty of it, is one of the chief necessaries of their very existence; and, unfortunately, at their own homes they are not, oftentimes, able to obtain a sufficient supply. Moreover, drinking fountains are the best advocates for temperance.

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 might be a means of producing inflammation either of the brain or of its membranes, and might thus cause water on the brain (a disease to which young children are subject), or it might induce inflammation of the lungs.

158. _What ought a child who has cut his teeth to have for his supper?_

The same that he has for breakfast. He should sup at six o’clock.

154. _Have you any general remarks to make on a child’s meals?_

I recommended a great sameness in an _infant’s_ diet; but a _child’s_ meals, his dinners especially, ought to be much varied. For instance, do not let him have, day after day, mutton; but ring the changes on mutton, beef, poultry, game, and even occasionally fish—sole or cod.

Not only let there be a change of meat, but let there be a change in the manner of cooking it: let the meat sometimes be roasted; at other times let it be boiled. I have known a mother who has prided herself as being experienced in these matters, feed her child, day after day, on mutton-chops! Such a proceeding is most injurious to him, as after awhile his unfortunate stomach will digest nothing but mutton-chops, and, in time, not even those!

With regard to vegetables, potatoes—_mashed_ potatoes—ought to be his staple vegetable; but every now and then, cauliflower, asparagus, turnips, and French beans should be given.

With respect to puddings, vary them—rice, one day; suet, another; batter, a third; tapioca, a fourth; or, even occasionally, he might have either apple or gooseberry or rhubarb-pudding, provided the pastry be plain and light.

It is an excellent plan, as I have before remarked, to let a child eat jam—such as strawberry, raspberry, or gooseberry—and that without stint, either with rice or with batter puddings.

_Variety of diet_, then, is _good for a child_: it will give him muscle, bone, and sinew; and, what is very important, it will tend to regulate his bowels, and it will thus prevent the necessity of giving him aperients.

But do not stuff a child—do not press him, as is the wont of some mothers, to eat more than he feels inclined. On the contrary, if you think that he is eating too much—that he is overloading his stomach—and if he should ask for more, then, instead of giving him either more meat or more pudding, give him a piece of dry bread. By doing so, you may rest assured that he will not eat more than is absolutely good for him.

155. _If a child be delicate, is there any objection to a little wine, such as cowslip or tent, to strengthen him?_

Wine ought not to be given to a child unless it be ordered by a medical man: it is even more injurious than beer. Wine, beer, and spirits principally owe their strength to the alcohol they contain; indeed, nearly _all_ wines are _fortified_ (as it is called) with brandy. Brandy contains a large quantity of alcohol, more than any other liquor, namely, 55.3 per cent. If, therefore, you give wine, it is, in point of fact, giving diluted brandy—diluted alcohol; and alcohol acts, unless it be used as a medicine, and under skillful medical advice, as a poison to a child.

156. _Suppose a child suddenly to lose his appetite: is any notice to be taken of it?_

If he cannot eat well, depend upon it there is something wrong about the system. If he be teething, let a mother look well to his gums, and satisfy herself that they do not require lancing. If they be red, hot, and swollen, send for a medical man, that he may scarify them. If his gums be not inflamed, and no tooth appears near, let her look well to the state of his bowels; let her ascertain that they be sufficiently opened, and that the stools be of a proper consistence, color, and smell. If they be neither the one nor the other, give a dose of aperient medicine, which will generally put all to rights. If the gums be cool, and the bowels be right, and his appetite continue bad, call in medical aid.

A child asking for something to eat is frequently, in a severe illness, the first favorable symptom; we may generally then prognosticate that all will soon be well again.

If a child refuse his food, neither coax nor tempt him to eat: as food without an appetite will do him more harm than it will do him good; it may produce either sickness, bowel complaint, or fever. Depend upon it, there is always a cause for want of appetite;—perhaps his stomach has been overworked, and requires repose; or his bowels are loaded, and Nature wishes to take time to use up the old material;—there might be fever lurking in his system; Nature stops the supplies, and thus endeavors, by not giving it food to work with, to nip it in the bud;—there might be inflammation; food would then be improper, as it would only add fuel to the fire; let, therefore, the cause be either an overworked stomach, overloaded bowels, fever, or inflammation, food would be injurious. Kind Nature, if we will but listen to her voice, will tell us when to eat and when to refrain.

157. _When a child is four or five years old, have you any objection to his drinking tea?_

Some parents are in the habit of giving their children strong (and frequently green) tea. This practice is most hurtful. It acts injuriously upon their delicate, nervous system, and thus weakens their whole frame. If milk does not agree, a cup of very weak tea, that is to say, water with a dash of _black_ tea in it, with a tablespoonful of cream, may be substituted for milk; but a mother must never give tea where milk agrees.

158. _Have you any objection to a child occasionally having either cakes or sweetmeats?_

I consider them as so much slow poison. Such things both cloy and weaken the stomach, and thereby take away the appetite, and thus debilitate the frame. Moreover, “sweetmeats are colored with poisonous pigments.” A mother, surely, is not aware that when she is giving her child sugar confectionery she is, in many cases, administering a deadly poison to him? “We beg to direct the attention of our readers to the Report of the Analytical Sanitary Commission, contained in the _Lancet_, on the pigments employed in coloring articles of sugar confectionery. From this report it appears that metallic pigments, of a highly dangerous and even poisonous character, containing chromic acid, lead, copper, mercury, and arsenic, are commonly used in the coloring of such articles.”

If a child be never allowed to eat cakes and sweetmeats, he will consider a piece of dry bread a luxury, and will eat it with the greatest relish.

159. _Is baker’s or is home-made bread the most wholesome for a child?_

Baker’s bread is certainly the lightest; and, if we could depend upon its being unadulterated, would, from its lightness, be the most wholesome; but as we cannot always depend upon baker’s bread, home-made bread, as a rule, should be preferred. If it be at all heavy, a child must not be allowed to partake of it; a baker’s loaf ought then to be sent for, and continued to be eaten until light home-made bread can be procured. Heavy bread is most indigestible. He must not be allowed to eat bread until it be two or three days old. If it be a week old, in cold weather, it will be the more wholesome.

160. _Do you approve either of caraway seeds or of currants in bread or in cakes—the former to disperse wind, the latter to open the bowels?_

There is nothing better than plain bread: the caraway seeds generally pass through the bowels undigested, and thus might irritate, and might produce, instead of disperse wind. Although caraway seeds _whole_ are unwholesome, yet caraway-tea, made as recommended in question 97, is an excellent remedy to disperse wind. Some mothers put currants in cakes, with a view of opening the bowels of their children; but they only open them by disordering them.

161. _My child has an antipathy to certain articles of diet: what would you advise to be done?_

A child’s antipathy to certain articles of diet should be respected: it is a sin and a shame to force him to eat what he has a great dislike to: a child, for instance, sometimes dislikes the fat of meat, underdone meat, the skin off boiled milk and off rice-pudding. Why should he not have his likes and dislikes as well as “children of a larger growth?” Besides, there is an idiosyncrasy—a peculiarity of the constitution in some children—and Nature oftentimes especially points out what is good and what is bad for them individually, and we are not to fly in the face of Nature. “What is one man’s meat is another man’s poison.” If a child be forced to eat what he dislikes, it will most likely not only make him sick, but will disorder his stomach and bowels: food, if it is really to do him good, must be eaten by him with a relish, and not with disgust and aversion. Some mothers, who are strict disciplinarians, pride themselves on compelling their children to eat whatever they choose to give them! Such children are to be pitied!

162. _When ought a child to commence to dine with his parents?_

As soon as he be old enough to sit up at the table, provided the father and mother either dine or lunch in the middle of the day. “I always prefer having children about me at meal-times. I think it makes them little gentlemen and gentlewomen in a manner that nothing else will.”

THE NURSERY.

163. _Have you any remarks to make on the selection, the ventilation, the warming, the temperature, and the arrangements of a nursery? and have you any further observations to offer conducive to the well-doing of my child?_

The nursery ought to be the largest and the most airy room in the house. In the town, if it be in the topmost story (provided the apartment be large and airy) so much the better, as the air will then be purer. The architect, in the building of a house, ought to be particularly directed to pay attention to the space, the loftiness, the ventilation, the light, the warming, and the conveniences of a nursery. A bath-room attached to it will be of great importance and benefit to the health of a child.

It will, also, be advantageous to have a water-closet near at hand, which should be well supplied with water, be well drained, and be well ventilated. If this be not practicable, the evacuations ought to be removed as soon as they are passed. It is a filthy and an idle habit of a nurse-maid to allow a motion to remain for any length of time in the room.

The VENTILATION of a nursery is of paramount importance. There ought to be a constant supply of fresh, pure air in the apartment. But how few nurseries have fresh, pure air? Many nurseries are nearly hermetically sealed—the windows are seldom, if ever, opened; the doors are religiously closed; and, in the summer time, the chimneys are carefully stuffed up, so that a breath of air is not allowed to enter! The consequences are, the poor unfortunate children “are poisoned by their own breaths,” and are made so delicate that they are constantly catching cold; indeed, it might be said that they are laboring under chronic catarrhs, all rising from Nature’s laws being set at defiance.

The windows ought to be large, and should be made to freely open both top and bottom. Whenever the child is out of the nursery the windows ought to be thrown wide open; indeed, when he is in it, if the weather be fine, the upper sash should be a little lowered. A child should be encouraged to change the room frequently, in order that it may be freely ventilated; for good air is as necessary to his health as wholesome food, and air cannot be good if it be not frequently changed. If you wish to have a strong and healthy child, ponder over and follow this advice.

I have to enter my protest against the use of a stove in a nursery. I consider a gas stove _without a chimney_ to be an abomination, most destructive to human life. There is nothing like the old-fashioned open fire-place, with a good-sized chimney, so that it may not only carry off the smoke, but also the impure air of the room.

Be sure to have a fire-guard around the grate, and be strict in not allowing your child either to touch or to play with fire; frightful accidents have occurred from mothers and nurses being on these points lax.