God has given us bodies formed in his own likeness, and has pronounced them “good,” hence, not diseased; and it is evidently our most imperative duty to regard it as a great gift, and preserve these bodies as the inestimable boon of the Almighty.
It is very evident that man has fallen far short of the requirements of his Maker.
From Adam to the flood—a space of time estimated at upwards of fifteen hundred years, according to Hebrew chronographers—the average of man’s years was nine hundred. From Noah to Jacob, by the same chronology, it had dwindled to one hundred and forty-seven years. In the ninetieth psalm we read, “The days of our years are threescore years and ten.” From actual statistics it is shown to average now less than one fourth of threescore and ten years.
And this fact in the face of civilization, enlightenment, and Christianity! Why so? How shall we account for the evil?
The Psalmist above quoted says further, “and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years,” etc., which implies that strength prolongs, and weakness—reversing the matter—shortens our days.
Let us begin at the beginning.
About the Babies.—How they are reared and how they should be.
BABY ON THE PORCH.
Out on the porch, by the open door,
Sweet with roses and cool with shade,
Baby is creeping over the floor—
Dear little winsome blue-eyed maid!
All about her the shadows dance,
All above her the roses swing,
Sunbeams in the lattice glance,
Robins up in the branches sing.
Up at the blossoms her fingers reach,
Lisping her pleading in broken words,
Cooing away, in her tender speech,
Songs like the twitter of nestling birds.
Creeping, creeping over the floor,
Soon my birdie will find her wings,
Fluttering out at the open door
Into the wonderful world of things.
Bloom of roses and balm of dew,
Brooks that bubble and winds that call,
All things lovely, and glad, and new,
And the Father watching us over it all!
“Select the best sprouts for transplanting,” says the “Old Farmer’s Almanac.” And here you have the whole root of the matter in a nut shell; for sickly-looking sprouts produce only sickly-looking plants. Like begets like.
Now, how about the babies? Women’s rights are advocated. Men take their rights. But who shall defend the babies’ rights? Poor, helpless little non-combatants! Let me say a few words in their behalf.