EXERCISE.
172. Do you approve, during the summer months, of sending a child out BEFORE breakfast?
I do, when the weather will permit, and provided the wind be neither in an easterly nor in a north-easterly direction; indeed, he can scarcely be too much in the open air. He must not be allowed to stand about draughts or about entries, and the only way to prevent him doing so is for the mother herself to accompany the nurse. She will then kill two birds with one stone, as she will, by doing so, benefit her own as well as her child's health.
173. Ought a child to be early put on his feet to walk?
No: let him learn to walk himself. He ought to be put upon a carpet; and it will be found that when he is strong enough, he will hold by a chair, and will stand alone: when he can do so, and attempts to walk, he should then be supported. You must, on first putting him upon his feet, be guided by his own wishes. He will, as soon as he is strong enough to walk, have the inclination to do so. When he has the inclination and the strength it will be folly to restrain him; if he have neither the inclination nor the strength, it will be absurd to urge him on. Rely, therefore, to a certain extent, upon the inclination of the child himself. Self-reliance cannot be too early taught him, and, indeed, every one else. In the generality of instances, however, a child is put on his feet too soon, and the bones, at that tender age, being very flexible, bend, causing bowed and bandy-legs; and the knees, being weak, approximate too closely together, and thus they become knock-kneed. This advice of not putting a child early on his feet, I must strongly insist on, as many mothers are so ridiculously ambitious that their young ones should walk early—that they should walk before other children of their acquaintance have attempted—that they have frequently caused the above lamentable deformities; which is a standing reproach to them during the rest of their lives.
174. Do you approve of perambulators?
I do not, for two reasons:—first, because when a child is strong enough, he had better walk as much as he will; and, secondly, the motion is not so good, and the muscles are not so much put into action, and consequently cannot be so well developed, as when he is earned. A perambulator is very apt to make a child stoop, and to make him both crooked and round-shouldered. He is cramped by being so long in one position. It is painful to notice a babe of a few months old in one of these newfangled carriages. His little head is bobbing about first on one side and then on the other—at one moment it is dropping on his chest, the next it is forcibly jolted behind: he looks, and doubtless feels, wretched and uncomfortable. Again, these perambulators are dangerous in crowded thoroughfares. They are a public nuisance, inasmuch as they are wheeled against and between people's legs, and are a fruitful source of the breaking of shins, of the spraining of ankles, of the crushing of corns, and of the ruffling of the tempers of the foot-passengers who unfortunately come within their reach; while, in all probability, the gaping nurses are staring another way, and every way indeed but the right, more especially if there be a redcoat in the path!
Besides, in very cold weather, or in a very young infant, the warmth of the nurse's body, while he is being carried, helps to keep him warm, he himself being naturally cold. In point of fact, the child, while being borne in the nurse's arms, reposes on the nurse, warm and supported, as though he were in a nest! While, on the other hand, if he be in a perambulator, he is cold and unsupported, looking the very picture of misery, seeking everywhere for test and comfort, and finding none!
A nurse's arm, then, is the only proper carriage for a young child to take exercise on. She ought to change about, first carrying frim on the one arm, and then on the other. Nursing him on one arm only might give his body a twist on one side, and thus might cause deformity.
When he is old enough to walk, and is able properly to support the weight of his own neck and back, then there will be no objection, provided it be not in a crowded thoroughfare, to his riding occasionally in a perambulator; but when he is older still, and can sit either a donkey or a pony, such exercise will be far more beneficial, and will afford him much greater pleasure.
175. Supposing it to be wet under foot, but dry above, do you then approve of sending a child out?
If the wind be neither in the east nor the north-east, and if the air be not damp, let him be well wrapped up and be sent out. If he be labouring under an inflammation of the lungs, however slight, or if he be just recovering from one, it would, of coarse, be highly improper. In the management of a child, we must take care neither to coddle nor to expose him unnecessarily, as both are dangerous.
Never send a child out to walk in a fog; he will, if you do, be almost sure to catch cold. It would be much safer to send him out in rain than in fog, though neither the one nor the other would be desirable.
176. How many times a day in fine weather ought a child to be sent out?
Let him be sent out as often as it be possible. If a child lived more in the open air than he is wont to do, he would neither be so susceptible of disease, nor would he suffer so much from teething, nor from catching cold.
177. Supposing the day to be wet, what exercise would you then recommend?
The child ought to run either about a large room, or about the hall; and if it does not rain violently, you should put on his hat and throw up the window, taking care while the window is open that he does not stand still. A wet day is the day for him to hold his high court of revelry, and "to make him as happy as the day is long."
Do not on any account allow him to sit any length of time at a table, amusing himself with books, &c.; let him be active and stirring, that his blood may freely circulate as it ought to do, and that his muscles may be well developed. I would rather see him actively engaged in mischief than sitting still, doing nothing! He ought to be put on the carpet, and should then be tumbled and rolled about, to make the blood bound merrily through, the, vessels, to stir up the liver, to promote digestion, and to open the bowels. The misfortune of it is, the present race of nurses are so encumbered with long dresses, and so screwed in with tight stays (aping their betters), that they are not able to stoop properly, and thus to have a good game of romps with their little charges. "Doing nothing is doing ill" is as true a saying as was ever spoken.
178. Supposing it to be winter, and the weather to be very cold, would you still send a child out?
Decidedly, provided he be well wrapped up. The cold will brace and strengthen him. Cold weather is the finest tonic in the world.
In frosty weather, the roads being slippery, when you send him out to walk, put a pair of large old woollen stockings over his boots or shoes. This will not only keep his feet and his legs warm, but it will prevent him from falling down and hurting himself. While thus equipped, he may even walk on a slide of ice without falling down!
A child, in the winter time, requires, to keep him warm, plenty of flannel and plenty of food, plenty of fresh and genuine milk, and plenty of water in his tub to wash and bathe him in a morning, plenty of exercise and plenty of play, and then he may brave the frosty air. It is the coddled, the half-washed, and the half-starved child (half-washed and half-starved from either the mother's ignorance or from the mother's timidity), that is the chilly starveling,—catching cold at every breath of wind, and every time he either walks or is carried out,—a puny, skinny, scraggy, scare-crow, more dead than alive, and more fit for his grave than for the rough world he will have to struggle in! If the above advice be strictly followed, a child may be sent out in the coldest weather, even—
"When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick, the shepherd, blows his nail;
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail."
Shakspeare.