Part 11

The nursery ought to have a large fire-guard, to go all round the hearth, and which should be sufficiently high to prevent a child from climbing over. Not only must the nursery have a guard, but every room where he is allowed to go should be furnished with one on the bars.

Moreover, it will be necessary to have a guard in every room where a fire is burning, to protect the ladies, who, in accordance with the present fashion, wear such preposterous crinolines, and thus to prevent the frightful deaths which are at the present time of such frequent and startling occurrence; lady-burning is now one of the institutions of our land!

A nursery is usually kept too hot; the temperature in the winter time ought _not to exceed_ 60 degrees Fahrenheit. A _good_ thermometer should be considered an indispensable requisite to a nursery. A child in a hot, close nursery is bathed in perspiration; if he leave the room to go to one of lower temperature, the pores of the skin are suddenly closed, and either a severe cold, or an inflammation of the lungs, or an attack of bronchitis, is likely to ensue. Moreover, the child is both weakened and enervated by the heat, and thus readily falls a prey to disease.

A child ought never to be permitted to sit with his back to the fire; if he be allowed, it weakens his spine, and thus his whole frame; it causes a rush of blood to the head and face, and predisposes him to catch cold.

Let a nurse make a point of opening the nursery window every time that she and her little charge leave the nursery, if their absence be only for half an hour. The mother herself ought to see that this advice is followed, pure air is so essential to the well-being of a child. Pure air and pure water, and, let me add, pure milk, are for a child the grand and principal requirements of health. “Pure air and water are practically the two great elements of health.”—_The Times._

Look well to the DRAINAGE of your house and neighborhood. A child is very susceptible to the influence of bad drainage. Bad drains are fruitful sources of scarlet fever, of diphtheria, of diarrhœa, etc. “It is sad to be reminded, that, whatever evils threaten the health of a population, whether from pollutions of water or of air,—whether from bad drainage or overcrowding, they fall heaviest on the most innocent victims—upon children of tender years. Their delicate frames are infinitely more sensitive than the hardened constitutions of adults, and the breath of poison or the chill of hardships easily blights their tender life.”

A nursery floor ought not to be _washed_ oftener than once a week; and then the child or children should, until it be dry, be sent into another room. During the drying of the floor, the windows must, of course, be thrown _wide_ open.

The constant _wetting_ of a nursery is a frequent source of illness among children. The floor ought, of course, to be kept clean; but this may be done by the servant thoroughly sweeping the room out every morning before her little charge makes his appearance.

Do not have your nursery walls covered with _green_ paper-hangings. Green paper-hangings contain large quantities of arsenic—arsenite of copper (Scheele’s green)—which, I need scarcely say, is a virulent poison, and which flies about the room in the form of powder. There is frequently enough poison on the walls of a room to destroy a whole neighborhood.

There is another great objection to having your nursery walls covered with _green_ paper-hangings; if any of the paper should become loose from the walls, a little child is very apt to play with it, and to put it, as he does everything else, to his mouth. This is not an imaginary state of things, as four children in one family have just lost their lives from sucking green paper-hangings.

Green dresses, as they are colored with a preparation of arsenic, are equally as dangerous as green paper-hangings; a child ought, therefore, never to wear a _green_ dress. “It may be interesting to some of our readers,” says _Land and Water_, “to know that the new green, so fashionable for ladies’ dresses, is just as dangerous in its nature as the green wall-paper, about which so much was written some time since. It is prepared with a large quantity of arsenic; and we have been assured by several of the leading dressmakers that the work-women employed in making up dresses of this color are seriously affected with all the symptoms of arsenical poison. Let our lady friends take care.”

Children’s toys are frequently painted of a green color with arsenic of copper, and are, consequently, highly dangerous to play with. The best toy for a child is a box of unpainted wooden bricks, which is a constant source of amusement to him.

If you have your nursery walls hung with paintings and engravings, let them be of good quality. The horrid daubs and bad engravings that usually disfigure nursery walls, are enough to ruin the taste of a child, and to make him take a disgust to drawing, which would be a misfortune. A fine engraving and a good painting expand and elevate his mind. We all know that first impressions are the most vivid and the most lasting. A taste in early life for everything refined and beautiful purifies his mind, cultivates his intellect, keeps him from low company, and makes him grow up a gentleman!

Lucifer matches, in case of sudden illness, should, both in the nursery and in the bed-room, always be in readiness; but they must be carefully placed out of the reach of children, as lucifer matches are a deadly poison.

164. _Have you any observation to make on the_ LIGHT _of the nursery_?

Let the window, or, what is better, the windows, of a nursery be very large, so as to thoroughly light up every nook and corner of the room, as there is nothing more conducive to the health of a child than an abundance of light in the dwelling.

A room cannot, then, be too light. The windows of a nursery are generally too small. A child requires as much light as a plant. Gardeners are well aware of the great importance of light in the construction of their greenhouses, and yet a child, who requires it as much, and is of much greater importance, is cooped up in dark rooms!

The windows of a nursery ought not only to be frequently opened to let in fresh air, _but should be frequently cleaned_, to let in plenty of light and of sunshine, as nothing is so cheering and beneficial to a child as an abundance of light and sunshine!

_With regard to the best artificial light for a nursery._—The air of a nursery cannot be too pure; I therefore do not advise you to have gas in it, as gas in burning gives off quantities of carbonic acid and sulphuretted hydrogen, which vitiate the air. There is no better light for a nursery than either Price’s patent candles or the old-fashioned tallow candle.

Let a child’s _home_ be the happiest _house_ to him in all the world; and to be happy he must be merry, and all around him should be merry and cheerful; and he ought to have an abundance of playthings, to help on the merriment.

If he has a dismal nurse, and a dismal home, he may as well be incarcerated in prison, and be attended by a jailer. It is sad enough to see dismal, doleful men and women, but it is a truly lamentable and unnatural sight to see a doleful child! The young ought to be as playful and as full of innocent mischief as a kitten. There will be quite time enough in after-years for sorrow and for sadness.

Bright colors, plenty of light, _clean_ windows (mind this, if you please), an abundance of _good_-colored prints, and toys without number, are the proper furnishings of a nursery. Nursery! why, the very name tells you what it ought to be—the home of childhood,—the most important room in the house,—a room that will greatly tend to stamp the character of your child for the remainder of his life.

165. _Have you any more hints to offer conducive to the well-doing of my child?_

You cannot be too particular in the choice of those who are in constant attendance upon him. You yourself, of course, must be his _head-nurse_—you only require some one to take the drudgery off your hands!

You ought to be particularly careful in the selection of his nurse. She should be steady, lively, truthful, and good-tempered; and must be free from any natural imperfection, such as squinting, stammering, etc., for a child is such an imitative creature that he is likely to acquire that defect, which in the nurse is natural. “Children, like babies, are quick at ‘taking notice.’ What they see they mark, and what they mark they are very prone to copy.”

She ought not to be very young, or she may be thoughtless, careless, and giggling. You have no right to set a child to mind a child; it would be like the blind leading the blind. No! a child is too precious a treasure to be intrusted to the care and keeping of a young girl. Many a child has been ruined for life by a careless young nurse dropping him and injuring his spine.

A nurse ought to be both strong and active, in order that her little charge may have plenty of good nursing; for it requires great strength in the arms to carry a heavy child for the space of an hour or two, at a stretch, in the open air; and such is absolutely necessary, and is the only way to make him strong, and to cause him to cut his teeth easily, and at the same time to regulate his bowels; a nurse, therefore, must be strong and active, and not mind hard work, for hard work it is; but after she is accustomed to it, pleasant notwithstanding.

Never should a nurse be allowed to wear a mask, nor to dress up and paint herself as a ghost, or as any other frightful object. A child is naturally timid and full of fears, and what would not make the slightest impression upon a grown-up person, might throw a child into fits—

“The sleeping and the dead, Are but as pictures: ’tis the age of childhood That fears a painted devil.”

Never should she be permitted to tell her little charge frightful stories of ghosts and hobgoblins; if this be allowed, the child’s disposition will become timid and wavering, and may continue so for the remainder of his life.

If a little fellow were not terrified by such stories, the darkness would not frighten him more than the light. Moreover, the mind thus filled with fear, acts upon the body, and injures the health. A child must never be placed in a dark cellar, nor frightened by tales of rats, etc. Instances are related of fear thus induced impairing the intellect for life; and there are numerous examples of sudden fright causing a dangerous and even a fatal illness.

_Night-terrors._—This frightening of a child by a silly nurse frequently brings on night-terrors. He wakes up suddenly, soon after going to sleep, frightened and terrified; screaming violently, and declaring that he has seen either some ghost, or thief, or some object that the silly nurse had been previously in the day describing, who is come for him to take him away. The little fellow is the very picture of terror and alarm; he hides his face in his mother’s bosom, the perspiration streams down him, and it is some time before he can be pacified—when, at length, he falls into a troubled, feverish slumber, to awake in the morning unrefreshed. Night after night these terrors harass him, until his health materially suffers, and his young life becomes miserable, looking forward with dread to the approach of darkness.

_Treatment of night-terrors._—If they have been caused by the folly of the nurse, discharge her at once, and be careful to select a more discreet one. When the child retires to rest leave a candle burning, and let it burn all night; sit with him until he be asleep; and take care, in case he should rouse up in one of his night-terrors, that either you yourself or some kind person be near at hand. Do not scold him for being frightened—he cannot help it; but soothe him, calm him, fondle him, take him into your arms, and let him feel that he has some one to rest upon, to defend and to protect him. It is frequently in these cases necessary before he can be cured to let him have change of air and change of scene. Let him live in the daytime, a great part of the day, in the open air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who takes the children on his knee, And winds their curls about his hand.”

166. _If a child be peevish, and apparently in good health, have you any plan to offer to allay his irritability?_

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

“The tear down childhood’s cheek that flows, Is like the dewdrop on the rose; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is dry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speak _gently_ to a child; speak _gently_ to all; but more especially speak _gently_ to a child. “A gentle voice is an excellent thing in woman,” and is a jewel of great price, and is one of the concomitants of a _perfect_ lady. Let the hinges of your disposition be well oiled. “‘I have a dear friend. He was one of those well-oiled dispositions which turn upon the hinges of the world without creaking.’ Would to heaven there were more of them! How many there are who never turn upon the hinges of this world without a grinding that sets the teeth of a whole household on edge! And somehow or other it has been the evil fate of many of the best spirits to be so circumstanced; both men and women, to whom life is ‘sweet habitude of being,’ which has gone far to reconcile them to solitude as far less intolerable! To these especially the creakings of those said rough hinges of the world is one continued torture, for they are all too finely strung; and the oft-recurring grind jars the whole sentient frame, mars the beautiful lyre, and makes cruel discord in a soul of music. How much of sadness there is in such thoughts! Seems there not a Past in some lives to which it is impossible ever to become reconciled?”

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

Do not be always telling your child how wicked he is; what a naughty boy he is; that God will never love him, and all the rest of such twaddle. Do not, in point of fact, bully him, as many poor little fellows are bullied! It will ruin him if you do; it will make him in after-years either a coward or a tyrant. Such conversations, like constant droppings of water, will make an impression, and will cause him to feel that it is of no use to try to be good—that he is hopelessly wicked! Instead of such language, give him confidence in himself; rather find out his good points and dwell upon them; praise him where and whenever you can; and make him feel that, by perseverance and by God’s blessing, he will make a good man. Speak truthfully to your child; if you once deceive him, he will not believe you for the future. Not only so, but if you are truthful yourself you are likely to make him truthful—like begets like. There is something beautiful in truth! A lying child is an abomination! Sir Walter Scott says “that he taught his son to ride, to shoot, and to tell the truth.”

As soon as a child can speak, he should be made to lisp the noble words of truth, and to love it, and to abhor a lie! What a beautiful character he will then make! Blessed is that child who can say,—

“Parental cares watched o’er my growing youth, And early stamped it with the love of truth.”

Have no favorites, show no partiality; for the young are very jealous, sharp-sighted, and quick-witted, and take a dislike to the petted one. Do not rouse the old Adam in them. Let children be taught to be “kindly affectionate one to another, with brotherly love;” let them be encouraged to share each other’s toys and playthings, and to banish selfishness.

Attend to a child’s _little_ pleasures. It is the _little_ pleasures of a child that constitute his happiness. Great pleasures to him and to us all (as a favorite author remarks) come but seldom, and are the exceptions, and not the rule.

Let a child be nurtured in love. “It will be seen that I hold this law of kindness as the Alpha and Omega of education. I once asked one, in his own house, a father in everything but the name, his authority unquestioned, his least word held in reverence, his smallest wish obeyed,—‘How did you ever manage to bring up these children?’ He said, ‘_By love!_’”