Advice to a Mother on the Management of Her Children

by Pye Henry Chavasse

Thorough ventilation of the apartment must be observed; and great cleanliness of the vessels containing the milk should be insisted upon.

In a bad case of thrush, change of air to the country is most desirable; the effect is sometimes, in such cases, truly magical.

If the thrush be brought on either by too much or by improper food; in the first case of course, a mother must lessen the quantity; and, in the second, she should be more careful in her selection.

What NOT to do.—Do not use either a calf's teat or wash leather for the feeding-bottle; fortunately, since the invention of India-rubber teats, they are now nearly exploded; they were, in olden times, fruitful causes of thrush. Do not mind the trouble of ascertaining that the cooking-vessels connected with the baby's food are perfectly clean and sweet. Do not leave the purity and the goodness of the cow's milk (it being absolutely necessary to feed him on artificial food) to be judged either by the milk-man, or by the nurse, but taste and prove it yourself. Do not keep the milk in a warm place, but either in the dairy or in the cellar; and, if it be summer time, let the jug holding the milk be put in a crock containing lumps of ice. Do not use milk that has been milked longer than twelve hours, but if practicable, have it milked direct from the cow, and use it immediately—let it be really and truly fresh and genuine milk.

When the disease is severe, it may require more active treatment—such as a dose of calomel; which medicine must never be given unless it be either under the direction of a medical man, or unless it be in an extreme case,—such as dysentery; [Footnote: See the Treatment of Dysentery.] therefore, the mother had better seek advice.

In a severe case of thrush, where the complaint has been brought on by artificial feeding—the babe not having the advantage of the mother's milk—it is really surprising how rapidly a wet-nurse—if the case has not been too long deferred—will effect a cure, where all other means have been tried and have failed. The effect has been truly magical! In a severe case of thrush pure air and thorough ventilation are essential to recovery.

110. Is anything to be learned from the cry of an infant?

A babe can only express his wants and his necessities by a cry; he can only tell his aches and his pains by a cry; it is the only language of babyhood; it is the most ancient of all languages; it is the language known by our earliest progenitors; it is, if listened to aright, a very expressive language, although it is only but the language of a cry—

"Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry."—Shakspeare.

There is, then, a language in the cry of an infant, which to a mother is the most interesting of all languages, and which a thoughtful medical man can well interpret. The cry of a child, to an experienced doctor, is, each and all, a distract sound, and is as expressive as the notes of the gamut. The cry of passion, for instance, is a furious cry; the cry of sleepiness is a drowsy cry; the cry of grief is a sobbing cry; the cry of an infant when roused from sleep is a shrill cry; the cry of hunger is very characteristic,—it is unaccompanied with tears, and is a wailing cry; the cry of teething is a fretful cry; the cry of pain tells to the practised ear the part of pain; the cry of ear-ache is short, sharp, piercing, and decisive, the head being moved about from side to side, and the little hand being often put up to the affected side of the head; the cry of bowel-ache is also expressive,—the cry is not so piercing as from ear-ache, and is an interrupted, straining cry, accompanied with a drawing-up of the legs to the belly; the cry of bronchitis is a gruff and phlegmatic cry; the cry of inflammation of the lungs is more a moan than a cry; the cry of croup is hoarse, and rough, and ringing, and is so characteristic that it may truly be called "the croupy cry;" the cry of inflammation of the membranes of the brain is a piercing shriek—a danger signal—most painful to hear; the cry of a child recovering from a severe illness is a cross, and wayward, and tearful cry; he may truly be said to be in a quarrelsome mood; he bursts out, without rhyme or reason, into a passionate flood of tears—into "a tempest of tears:" tears are always, in a severe illness, to be looked upon as a good omen, as a