T/J.E DWELLING-, 
. ND > • 
- . ' . / - THE BAZAR BOOK 
TTi 
OF 
HEALTH. 
THE DWELLING, 
THE NURSERY, THE PARLOR, 
THE BEDROOM, THE LIBRARY, 
THE DINING-ROOM, THE KITCHEN, 
THE SICK-ROOM. 
"An ounce of Uorth Cure." 
■p'ld\f'r overb. 
NEW YORK: 
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
FRANKLIN SQUARE. 
1873. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
Harper & Brothers, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. PREFACE. 
One of the main results of the progress of 
the science of medicine in these later days, is 
the discovery that drugs are not so efficacious 
in the treatment of disease as former genera- 
tions of doctors and patients have believed. 
The physician has consequently turned into 
a new path of inquiry. Convinced of the little 
power possessed of curing disease, he has en- 
deavored to trace out its causes, with the hope 
of bcin<x able to remove them. His efforts have 
been so far successful, that he has found that 
most of the maladies to which the human race 
is subject are produced by means within the 
control, more or less, of every man. He there- 
fore does not hesitate to acknowledge that his 
art, which has so long and ineffectually striven 
to cure, should now mainly be directed toward 
preventing disease. He candidly admits, more- 
over, that in this new direction of effort the aid 
of all men is essential. 6 
PREFACE. 
Medicine is thus withdrawn from the dark 
recesses of the college, and is no longer a mys- 
tery hidden from every one except the initiated, 
but an open subject exposed to and requiring 
free discussion. 
This work, therefore, which has no other 
purpose than to indicate those causes of dis- 
ease, and the means of preventing or removing 
them, which are within the control of every 
one, does not in any manner encroach upon the 
privileges of the medical profession, for the 
dignity of which the writer, who is a member 
of it, has naturally all proper respect. 
That his book, though addressed to the gen- 
eral reader, will have the cordial sympathy of 
the enlightened physician, who must be con- 
scious of the necessity of the concurrence of 
the public with every effort made to advance 
what may be called Preventive Medicine, is 
the firm conviction of 
The Author. CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER I. 
The Dangers to be feared by the Occupant of a Dwelling, 
from within, not without.-Self-incurred and preventible.- 
More die from living in badly-built and ill-kept Houses 
than are killed in Battle.-A free Supply of pure Air nec- 
essary.-Quantity of Air required for breathing.-The 
Ventilation necessary for different Kinds of Buildings.- 
The penetrating Power of Air.-Passage of Air through 
Walls.-The Permeability of the various Building Mate- 
rials.-The natural Ventilation influenced by Heat.-The 
worst constructed Houses tolerably well ventilated.-Warm 
Bedrooms better ventilated than cold.-Proper Means for 
the Ventilation of Public Buildings.-Ventilation in Sum- 
mer.-The two Modes by which Air is rendered Impure. 
-Pree Communication with external Atmosphere neces- 
saryPage 17 
Qualitative Contamination of the Air.-Impurities, fault of 
the Householder.-Impurities, fault of the Community.- 
The most common Causes of Diseases.-Indifference to 
protect Life compared with the love for it.-Simple Rule in 
regard to offensive and deleterious Products.-Mechanical 
Contrivances for their Removal.-The necessity of Drains. 
-How best constructed.-Soil Pipes.-Sinks.-Structure 
and Arrangement of the Water-closet.-Municipal Neglect. 
-The necessity of Public Action.-Houses in the Coun- 
CHAPTER II. 8 
CONTENTS. 
try.-Strange Neglect of the Requirements for Health.- 
Effect of Cess-pools and Drains upon the Health of Rustic 
Populations.-Water an Essential for the Removal of all 
House Impurities.-Foul Water a Cause of Disease.- 
Cholera.-Typhus, - Construction of Cisterns.-Filtering 
of WaterPage 28 
The Air in the Ground.-The Proportion contained in differ- 
ent Soils.-Currents of the Air of the Ground.-Every 
House ventilated from below.-Contamination of the Air 
of the Ground.-Ground permeable by poisonous Gases.- 
Interesting Illustration of Poisoning by Gas.-The Priest's 
Story.-The Influence of Temperature upon the Diffusion 
of poisonous Gases.-Gaseous Emanations from the Soil 
greatly to be feared.-How the Ground is polluted.-How 
to prevent this Pollution.-Architectural Preventives.- 
Wet Walls.-Their Danger.-Diseases produced by wet 
Walls.-Quantity of Water used in building a House.- 
Different Powers of Absorption of Water by various Kinds 
of Building Material.--Mistakes of Tenants in Regard to 
Dryness of Walls.-Effect of Construction upon Moisture 
of Buildings.-How to dry Walls 37 
CHAPTER III. 
CHAPTER IV. 
Whence comes the Heat of our Bodies ?-How Heat is got 
rid of.- How retained.-Heating of the House.-Fur- 
naces.-Steam and hot Air'.-The English Fire-place.- 
Its Advantages and Disadvantages.-The Porcelain Stove. 
-Its Advantages.-The Advantages of Diffusion of Heat. 
-The Dangers of separate heated Apartments.-Hot In- 
teriors in America.-Their Effect upon Habits and Health. 
-Human Exotics 53 
Solar Light essential to Life.-A Vegetable Illustration.- 
CHAPTER V. CONTENTS. 
9 
Health of People living Under-ground.-Mines, etc.-Ef- 
fect of Light upon Growth and Vigor of the Young.-So- 
lar Light prescribed by the Doctors.-Aspect in Regard 
to Light to be attended to in Building.-Precautions to 
be taken in large Towns.-New Cities and old Towns.- 
How to obtain Light in Houses.-Tax on Light in En- 
gland.- Its Consequences.-Plenty of Windows.-Dun- 
geons.-Parlors.-Heavy Curtains.-Dark Rooms.-Mo- 
tives of Ladies.-Miss Nightingale's Testimony as to Ef- 
fect of Light upon the Sick.-Effect of Artificial Light 
upon the Air of the Dwelling.-Philosophy of Artificial 
Light.-How to counteract bad Effect of Artificial Light. 
-Best Kinds of Light.-How to burn GasPage 61 
CHAPTER VI. 
The Situation of the House.-Indifference to natural Beau- 
ty.-Affected Admiration.-Influence of natural Beauty. 
-How to choose a Site for the Dwelling.-Hills.-Drain- 
age.-Effect of Trees.-Aspect of House.-Soil.-Anti- 
dote to Miasma.-Houses in Towns.-Nothing without 
Drainage.-City Prospects.--How. crowded Cities are to 
be made healthful.-Who should benefit by Improvements. 
-Hospitals, etc., where they should be placed.-What to 
avoid in choosing a Site in Town.-Churches as Neigh- 
bors.-Slaughter-houses, etc.-The best Streets.-Gardens 
to the Houses.-A foolish Concession to Fashion 71 
CHAPTER VII. 
Influence of the Dwelling upon the moral and physical 
Well-being.-An humble Cause of princely Suffering.- 
Children most affected by the Influences of Dwelling.- 
The Nursery.-Ventilation of Nursery.-Windows.- 
Rapid Circulation of Blood.-Rapid Diffusion of poison- 
ous Air.-Position of Nursery.-Effect of Light upon the 
animal Spirits of Children.-Free Admission of solar Light 
necessary.-Furniture.-Floor and Walls.-The Necessity 10 
CONTENTS. 
of Warmth.-Proper Mode of heating.-Ornamentation of 
Nursery.-Liveliness necessary.-Influence of Pictures.- 
The Box or Basket of Toys.-Toys as Teachers.-Kind 
of Toys required.-Grave Saws and sour Texts.-Children, 
how far Self-destructive.-Noise essentialPage 81 
CHAPTER VIII. 
The Necessity of Abundance of Sleep for Children.-The 
Sleepfulness of Infancy.-Should be encouraged.-Sleep in 
Relation to the Conditions of Life.-Purity of Air required 
by sleeping Children.-The Ventilation of Child's Bed- 
room.-Light.-Windows.-Warmth.-Position of Child's 
Bedroom.-Maternal Fondness and Pride, as Disturbers 
of Sleep.-Sleep after Feeding.-The Quantity of Sleep re- 
quired by Children of different Ages.-Causes of Sleepless- 
ness.-Cradles and Rocking-chairs.-Opiates.-Cheerful- 
ness on going to Bed.-How Sydney Smith cured the 
Sleeplessness of a Child.-Darkness and Spirits.-The Bed. 
-Bedding and Bed-clothes.-Position in Bed.-Cleanli- 
ness of Nursery.-Treatment of empty Bed 93 
CHAPTER IX. 
Sir Richard Steele on Wet-nurses.-Suckling one's own Child. 
-Excuses of fashionable Mothers.-Matronly Beauty.- 
The Wrongs of not nursing.-The immoral Effects of 
Mothers neglecting to nurse their Children.-The Respon- 
sibility of unnatural Mothers.-Dry-nursing.-Preparation 
of the Milk.-The Feeding Instruments.-Frequency of 
Feeding.-Regularity of Meals.-Plenty of Water.-Milk 
as Food.- Weaning.- Supplementary Food.- Food for 
Children of different Ages.-Sweets.-Teething.-Its In- 
fluence.-Too much Interference 104 
CHAPTER X. 
Fashion of Dress versus the Comfort and Health of Chil- 
dren.-The Science of Clothing.-Dr. Franklin's Experi- CONTENTS. 
11 
ment.-Loose and Tight Dress.-Flannel and Woolen 
Garments.-Child Hardening.-Delicacy of the Skin.- 
Indoor and outdoor Clothing.-Freedom of Movement es- 
sential.-Expansion of the Form of the Infant.-A Ger- 
man Custom.-The Diaper.-Naked Infancy contrasted 
with the Manikins of Fashion.-Cruelty of Fashion.-An 
unrestraining Dress essential to Vigor and Grace. - The 
daily Bath.-Precautions to be takenPage 116 
CHAPTER XI. 
A healthy Babe's Indication of Want of Exercise.-Crying. 
-Dangerous Attempts to suppress Crying.-The best Ex- 
ercise for the Infant.-Artificial Contrivances.- Sympa- 
thetic Movements of Nurse and Child.-A Child's first At- 
tempts at Locomotion.-Over-eagerness of Parents to make 
their Children walk.-Distortion of Limbs.-Exposure to 
the Air.-The proper Conditions.-The Child's Carriage.- 
The essentials of Exercise for Children.-Children's Sus- 
ceptibility to Pleasure.-Cheerfulness of Children to be en- 
couraged.-Animal Spirits.-Their Importance for future 
Happiness.-Moral Effect.-A lively Nurse desirable.-A 
sunny Nursery.-Amusements of the Young.-Fine Clothes 
versus healthy and happy Children.-Home and outdoor 
Amusements.- Excitements.- The Precocity of modern 
Children.-Infant Gentlemen and Ladies.-Early Develop- 
ment of sexual Instinct.-Early intellectual Instruction.- 
When to begin.-Cultivation of observing Powers.-Influ- 
ence of Activity of Brain upon Body 126 
CHAPTER Nil. 
Facility of Sleep.-Carelessness in regard to best Means of 
securing healthful Sleep.- The physiological Conditions 
essential.-The Bedroom.-Effect of Noise.-A Story.- 
Quiet a Disturber of Sleep.-Best Position for Bedroom. 
- Flimsiness of modern Houses.- Indoor and outdoor 
Noises.-Remedy for.-Sleep and Stupor.-Ventilation of 12 
CONTENTS. 
Bedroom.- Maximum and Minimum of Space.- Open 
Windows.- Night Air.- Furniture of Bedroom.- The 
Bed.-Position of the Bed.-Bed-clothes.-Their Philos- 
ophy.-Impervious Coverlets.-Edredon.-When to make 
the Bed.-Window-curtains.-Carpets and Rugs.- Pic- 
tures.Page 139 
Quantity of Sleep required.-Sleeplessness self-incurred.- 
Pure Air, and Abundance of it.-No personal Clothing re- 
quired.-The Night-dress.-Freedom from Constraint es- 
sential to Sleep.-Position of the Body.-Right or left 
Side?-Turning to the Window.-Pillow.-The Effects 
of a hard and narrow Pillow.-Nightmare.-Snoring.- 
Late Suppers.-Miss Martineau on Brandy-and-water be- 
fore going to bed. - Requirements of weak-toned Peo- 
ple.-Tea and Coffee drinking.-The last Cigar.-Late 
Studies.-Business Anxieties.-The daily Bath.-A good 
Soporific.-Danger of Opiates.-Early Rising.-The sec- 
ond Sleep.-Putting on and putting off the Clothes.-A 
tropical Practice.-Cleanliness of Clothing. - Dirt and 
Cold.-Adaptation of Dress according to Chemistry.- 
Summer and winter Apparel. - Effect of Moisture upon 
Clothes.-The Advantage of woolen Garments 151 
CHAPTER XIII. 
CHAPTER XIV. 
The Savage surprised by the civilized Dinner.-Barbarous 
and refined Eating contrasted.- Banqueting-halls.-Scott's 
Description in "Ivanhoe."'-The Banqueting-hall.-Its 
Connection with social Enjoyments.-The English Squire 
in Relation to his Mahogany.-Dining-room subordinate to 
the Drawing-room.-Modern Refinement.-The modern 
Tendency.-The English Dining-room.-An English Din- 
ner.-Washington Irving at an English Table.-Furniture 
of English Dining-room.-Continental and English Din- 
ing-rooms contrasted.-The essential Furniture of a Din- CONTENTS. 
13 
ing-room. and Dietetic.-Engravings for a Din- 
ing-room.-Requisites for the Dining-roomPage 161 
Too great Consciousness of a Stomach.-The Necessity of a 
Habit of good Living.-The necessary Number of Meals.- 
Time of Meals.-Interval between the Meals.-The Break- 
first.-When required.-Composition of the Breakfast.- 
The Dinner.-Time for Dinner.-Luncheon.-Its Influence 
on Health and Morals.'-What constitutes a good Lunch- 
eon. - Seriousness of Dinner. - Soup.-Fish. - Roast.- 
Necessity of Variety.-Large Joints.-Rehashes.-Vegeta- 
bles.-Potatoes.-The Pudding.-Pastry.-Dessert.. 169 
CHAPTER XV. 
CHAPTER XVI. 
The best Preparative for Dinner.-Provocatives to Appetite. 
-The Danger of Stimulants on an empty Stomach.-The 
proper State of Mind before Dinner.-The Half-hour before 
Dinner.-Mutual Influence of mental Emotion and Diges- 
tion.-Social and solitary Dining contrasted.-The Length 
of Dinner.-Wine.-Its Use and Abuse.-Kinds of Wine. 
-How to be taken.-The Siesta appreciated.-Exercise 
after Dinner.--Tasse de Cafe.-Petit Verve.-Tea and 
Supper.-Luxuries.-Ices, etc 180 
CHAPTER XVII. 
The superfine Apartment.-Palaces and Mansions.-Require- 
ments of Art.-Renouncement of best Part of the House. 
-Show and Lumber Room.-Space of Parlor.-Ventila- 
tion.-Open Pires.-Sunlight.-Sydney Smith.-The do- 
mestic Dungeon.-Objects of shutting out Light.-Furni- 
ture of the Parlor.-Ceremoniousness of the Parlor.-Ef- 
fect of superfine Furniture.-Rugs and Carpets.-Parallel- 
ograms.- Bay-windows.-Pictures. - Picture - frames.- 
Engravings.-The Books of the Parlor.-Amusements of 
the Parlor 188 14 
CONTENTS. 
Influence of Mind on Body.-Exciting and depressing Emo- 
tions.-Death of John Hunter.-Death from Joy.-Effects 
of Laughter.-An Eastern Apologue.-Effects of Fear.- 
A British Expedition.-Dying of a broken Heart.-The 
Health of the House.-How affected by Influence of Mind 
on Body.-Influence of domestic Affections.-Cowed Chil- 
dren.-Vague Ailments of Women; Cause.-Social Life 
of the House.-The Father at Home.-His Power.-A 
Master of the Revels.- Sympathy of Wife and grown 
Children.-Social Entertainments.-Fashionable Parties. 
- Story of an English Ambassador. - Burning Bank- 
notes.-Display of fashionable Party.-Appreciation of 
the GuestsPage 19G 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
CHAPTER XIX. 
The Library.-Books and Book-cases.-Furniture.-Easy- 
chairs.-Light.-Diffused or concentrated Light ?-The 
Strength of the Eye.-Musccb Volitantes.-Influence of 
general Disease upon the Eyes.-How to protect the Eye. 
-Irritated Lids.-Short-sightedness.-Long-sightedness. 
-Young People's Sight.-Old People's Sight.-How to 
choose Spectacles 208 
The Devil's Imps.-Hope for their Salvation.-Morals and 
Masonry.- Good Cooks and good Kitchens.- Under- 
ground Kitchens.-Pantries and Store-rooms.-Sinks and 
Water-supply.-Dresser and its Ornaments.-A separate 
Room.- Spoiling Servants.- A Nation of Wasters.- 
Good Things thrown away.-Tripe.-Heart.-Cow's- 
heel.-Cock's Comb.-Bad Cooking.-Large Fires.- 
Cooking-ranges.-What a Handful of Charcoal does in 
France 218 
CHAPTER XX. CONTENTS. 
15 
CHAPTER XXL 
Skill in Cooking.-Raw Articles of Diet.-Healthfulness of 
thorough Cooking.-Science of Cooking.-The great Es- 
sential of a good Cook.-Preliminaries to Cooking.-Keep- 
ing Meat.-Boiling.-Soup and boiled Meat.-Roasting.- 
The Inefficiency of Chemistry.-Taste and Science.-Proc- 
ess of Roasting explained.-Broiling.-Frying.-Stewing. 
-Salt Meat.-Cooking Vegetables.-How to cook a Po- 
tato.- Tea and Coffee: how made.-Pastry, wholesome 
and unwholesome.-Vessels and Utensils of the Kitchen. 
-Death in the PotPage 227 
CHAPTER XXII. 
An impotent Conclusion.--The Necessity of a Sick-room.- 
The Duties of the Householder.-Ventilation of Sick-room. 
-Requirements of Sick-room.-Open Windows.-Night 
Air.-Temperature of Sick-room.-Fire and open Win- 
dows.-Sunlight.-Furniture of Sick-room.-Reminders 
of Sickness.-Curtains.-Walls.-Carpets or Rugs.-Beds 
and Bedding.-Cleanliness.-Artificial Odors.-Disinfect- 
ants.-Note 242 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
An Enemy of the Household.-The Family Medicine-chest. 
-Youthful Tortures.- Faith in the Medicine-chest, and 
its Consequences.-Danger of Drugs.-Common Colds: 
Treatment.-Sore Throat: Treatment.-Coughs: Treat- 
ment.-Constipation : Treatment.-Colic.-Pains in Stom- 
ach and Bowels: Treatment.-Diarrhea and Dysenteries: 
Treatment. -Dangerous Diseases. -How indicated.-Man- 
agement.-Dyspepsia: Treatment.-Eruptive Diseases.- 
Scarlet Fever.-Small-pox.-Measles: Treatment.-Hoop- 
ing-cough : Treatment.-Rheumatic Pains: Treatment.- 
Fainting.-Hysterics.-Fits: Treatment.-Ear and Tooth 
aches : Treatment.- Chilblains : Treatment.- Cramp : 
Treatment 254 16 
CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
Accidents.-Danger of Overcaution.- Cuts: their Treat- 
ment.-Wounds of Veins and Arteries: how distinguish- 
ed. - Staunching of Blood. - Sprains: Treatment. - 
Burns: Treatment.-Inflammability of Women. - Sun- 
stroke: Treatment.-Bites and Stings: Treatment.- 
Nose-bleeding; Treatment.-Bleeding from Lungs and 
Stomach: Treatment.-Fractures: Management.-Dislo- 
cations. - Courage of Attendants. - Confidence of Pa- 
tients.-ConclusionPage 265 THE 
HEALTH OF THE HOUSE. 
CHAPTER I. 
The Dangers to be feared by the Occupant of a Dwelling, 
from within, not without.-Self-incurred and preventible.- 
More die from living in badly-built and ill-kept Houses 
than are killed in Battle.-A free Supply of pure Air nec- 
essary.-Quantity of Air required for breathing.-The 
Ventilation necessary for different Kinds- of Buildings.- 
The penetrating Power of Air.--Passage of Air through 
Walls.-The Permeability of the various Building Mate- 
rials.-The natural Ventilation influenced by Heat.-The 
worst constructed Houses tolerably well ventilated.-Warm 
Bedrooms better ventilated than cold.-Proper Means for 
the Ventilation of Public Buildings.-Ventilation in Sum- 
mer.-The two Modes by which Air is rendered Impure.-• 
Tree Communication with external Atmosphere necessary. 
A man's house is said to be his castle, in which 
he is supposed to be secure from every intruder. 
He, however, often shuts himself up in it with his 
worst enemies. In these modern days of com- 
parative respect for law, or forced subjection to 18 
THE DANGERS OF THE HOUSE. 
its requirements, when men's hands arc, for the 
most part, too busy in their own service to be 
raised against their neighbor, and the policeman 
is on the watch at every corner, there is little to 
be feared by the householder from external vio- 
lence. The chief dangers which threaten the life 
of the occupant of every dwelling, be it castle or 
cottage, palace or tenant-house, are from within, 
and not from without. These internal dangers, 
moreover, are to a great extent self-incurred, and 
are as easy to prevent as the consequences of 
their presence are difficult to remedy. Many of 
the most fatal are inherent in the very construc- 
tion of the dwelling elaborately piled up for the 
professed purpose of giving increased enjoyment 
and security to life. More people have died from 
immuring themselves in badly-built and ill-kept 
houses than have been killed in battle. Many a 
man, while rejoicing in the security of his barred 
windows and locked doors, has but excluded safe- 
ty and embraced danger, thrust out health and 
life, and harbored disease and death. 
A free supply of pure air is essential to the 
living being, and no dwelling can be a healthful 
abode which is not so constructed as to maintain 
a constant communication with the surrounding 
atmosphere. For breathing alone, man requires, QUANTITY OF AIR REQUIRED. 
19 
for each day of twenty-four hours, three hundred 
and sixty cubic feet, or nine thousand litres,* of 
air, which is three thousand times the volume of 
food and drink essential to sustain the daily life 
of a human being. The air he must breathe dur- 
ing a single year amounts to three million two 
hundred and eighty-five thousand litres. To se- 
cure for him this essential breath of life, the sup- 
ply of pure air to every occupant of any dwelling 
whatsoever must be the freest and most abun- 
dant. To attain to the perfection of good air in 
any interior, the ventilation should furnish from 
the atmosphere without sixty cubic metres, every 
hour, to each occupant. The scientific men of 
France have embodied the results of their experi- 
ments in regard to ventilation in the following 
table, which has been accepted by the authorities 
as the official regulation for the construction of 
public buildings. 
The ventilation for each person and every hour 
must give in- 
Cubic Metres of Air. 
Hospitals with ordinary Sick 60 to 70 
" " Wounded 100 
" " Epidemical diseases 150 
Prisons 50 
* The weight of this air would be twenty-three pounds. 20 
REQUIREMENTS OF DIFFERENT BUILDINGS. 
Cubic Metres of Air. 
Workshops, ordinary 69 
" nnhealthful occupation 100 
Barracks, during day 30 
" " night 40 to 50 
Theatres 40 to 50 
Halls for long meetings 60 
" " short " 30 
Schools for children 12 to 15 
" " adults 25 to 30 
Any less supply of pure air* than indicated by 
this statement is deemed insufficient, while, of 
course, any approximation to a higher standard 
consistent with other requirements may be re- 
garded as desirable. 
Men would seem to consider the air their most 
unwelcome visitor, so careful are they to exclude 
it from their houses. Fortunately, however, this 
intruder is so importunate that he will gain an 
entrance into the most vigilantly guarded dwell- 
* The purity of the air of a dwelling occupied by human 
beings is gauged according to the proportion of carbonic acid 
gas it may contain. One volume of this gas to a thousand 
volumes of air constitutes a good interior atmosphere; any 
larger proportion of carbonic acid will deteriorate it. The 
ordinary exercise of one's senses will often be sufficient to 
test the purity of inclosed air, but chemical analysis is essen- 
tial to accuracy. AIR THROUGH WALLS. 
21 
ing in spite of bolts and bars, roofs and sheath- 
ings. Such, in fact, is the subtlety of his pene- 
tration that he makes his way through the very 
barriers especially raised to oppose him. No 
window need be lifted, no door opened, no crack 
or key-hole left unfilled to facilitate his passage. 
Coming through the walls, not only unresisted by 
the plaster and mortar, but even by the fire- 
baked bricks and the quarried stone, he presents 
himself, if not an invited visitor, an essential guest 
in every living company. 
A plodding German professor* has proved by 
a series of careful experiments that air passes 
with more or less facility through the various 
walls of ordinary buildings. This result might 
have been inferred, from common observation, of 
the futility of the elaborate efforts made by most 
householders to smother themselves. The pas- 
sage of this air, though in consequence of its 
small velocity it is not always perceptible to our 
senses, is nevertheless constant and very consid- 
erable. No one doubts that water can make its 
way through the most compact masonry; why, 
therefore, should there be any question about the 
permeating power of air, which is more movable, 
and seven hundred and seventy times lighter? 
* Dr. Max V. Pettenkofer. 22 
PERMEABILITY OF DIFFERENT WALLS. 
A water-tight vessel is, in fact, a comparatively 
easy thing to make, while to manufacture an air- 
tight one is a puzzling operation for the most 
skillful mechanic. 
The common mortar used in building has been 
found, experimentally, to give ready passage to 
air, and most of the other materials employed in 
constructing walls are also permeable by it. 
Bricks, and many of the sandstones, are among 
the most remarkable of these. Even walls built 
of the compact limestones and other dense mate- 
rial allow the air, in consequence of the abundant 
mortar necessary to their construction, to pass 
through them with facility. From the irregular- 
ity of the quarried and harder stones, it is found 
necessary, in building, to use a much larger pro- 
portion of mortar in order to fill up interstices, 
than is required by the exact cubes of brick and 
the softer stones, which may be easily cut and 
fitted with precision. It has been computed that 
while the wall of brick requires only one fifth or 
sixth, and that of sandstone a sixth or eighth, 
the quarried limestone one must have no less 
than one-fourth of its whole volume composed of 
mortar. Thus, though the last is built of a denser 
stone, it may be no less permeable by the air than 
the former, since a so much larger proportion of EFFECT OF TEMPERATURE. 
23 
the porous mortar has been used in its construc- 
tion. 
The natural ventilation, as it may be called, 
through the walls is especially influenced by the 
difference of temperature within and without the 
house. A single degree only of greater heat in 
the interior will draw in one hour, through a 
square metre of sandstone wall, 0.169 cubic me- 
tres of air; of a quarried limestone, 0.232 cubic 
metres; of a burned brick, 0.283 cubic metres; 
of a calcareous tuft, 0.364 cubic metres; and of 
an unbaked brick, 0.512 cubic metres. The ven- 
tilation through the walls, of course, augments 
with the increased difference of temperature be- 
tween the air inside and outside. 
So great, in fact, is the effect of difference of 
temperature upon the natural ventilation, that a 
house well heated in winter may be better venti- 
lated with every thing closed but the usual un- 
avoidable cracks, than the same house in the sum- 
mer, with all the doors and windows thrown wide 
open, but no difference of temperature between 
the air within and without. 
Nature has mercifully made it almost impos- 
sible for people, with all their apparent determi- 
nation to do so, to smother themselves in their 
houses. Whatever may be the incompleteness of 24 
COLD AND HOT BEDROOMS. 
plan or imperfection of structure, the ordinary 
dwelling of man is tolerably well adapted for sup- 
plying him with one great essential of life, an 
abundance of air. There can be no doubt that, 
even without any special contrivance for ventila- 
tion, the 'worst-constructed house has in its doors, 
windows, walls, fire-places, and inevitable holes 
and cracks,,a sufficient means for supplying its 
inhabitants with the required quantity of pure 
air. Many of these will perform their functions 
of themselves, but others require the attention of 
the householder. In winter, a house, to be well 
ventilated, must be well warmed, and it is better 
to have a too hot interior with open windows 
than a too cold interior with closed windows. A 
shut-up apartment, the temperature of which in 
winter is about the same as that of the external 
air, is neither fit to pass the day or night in. Its 
air once corrupted by the breathing of its occu- 
pant or occupants and remaining stationary, as 
there is not heat enough to produce motion and 
an interchange of current between the interior 
and exterior atmospheres, acts as a constant poi- 
son of the most dangerous kind, as long as it is 
inhaled. There is a prevalent notion that the 
bedroom, to be healthful, must be cold, and many 
a poor fellow resigns himself in consequence to a MEANS OF VENTILATION. 
25 
preliminary chill and chattering of teeth every 
winter's night before he slumbers. If the occu- 
pant of the bed-chamber has a taste for a noc- 
turnal ague, he can only indulge in it with secu- 
rity by leaving the window open, if he is deter- 
mined upon extinguishing the fire. A person with 
sense or resolution enough to raise a window can 
at any time thoroughly ventilate his house, pro- 
vided in winter it bo well warmed. 
In public buildings, hospitals, legislative halls, 
court-houses, school and ball rooms, and all inte- 
riors, in fact, where numerous persons occasion- 
ally congregate, there should be an especial pro- 
vision for ventilation. A simple and effective ap- 
paratus for this purpose consists of a channel 
near the ceiling, made 
to pass through the 
wall as here indicated. 
The inside opening 
may have a lid con- 
trolled by a cord and 
pulley by which the 
admission of air can be regulated. The ventila- 
ting apparatus should be graduated in size and 
number, according to the requirements of the 
building. Ventilation by double windows is 
strongly recommended for large hospitals. By 
outside. inside. 26 
SUMMER AND WINTER VENTILATION. 
this plan a free supply of air is obtained from 
without, by its passage through a large opening 
in the upper division of the outer window and a 
metal rose in a pane of the inner one. Draught 
is in this way avoided, and, moreover, the chill 
of the fresh air is diminished by passing through 
the space between the two windows and the met- 
al rose of the inner one, the temperature of which 
will correspond nearly with that of the interior 
of the apartment. In summer no better ventila- 
tion is required than can be furnished by freely 
opening the doors and windows. The registers 
of furnaces and stoves should not be kept closed, 
and fire-places and chimneys after a thorough 
cleansing must be left free to give circulation to 
the air, without any obstruction from bags of 
shavings, fancy paper aprons, fire-boards, and 
metal fixtures. Fan-lights are good ventilators 
in summer. Iron gates of open structure, or even 
Venetian blinds, where security from intrusion 
will permit, are not only, if tastefully made, orna- 
mental, but may be advantageously used, in or- 
der to admit air, as occasional substitutes for the 
solid and impermeable front doors, on the outside 
of which they may be conveniently placed. 
There are two modes by which the air of a 
dwelling is ordinarily rendered impure, and of OPERATIONS OF HOUSEHOLD. 
27 
course dangerous to breathe. The one quantita- 
tively-that is, by changing the proportion of its 
proper constituents ; and the other qualitatively, 
which is by mixing and contaminating it with 
impurities foreign to its composition. The first 
is the inevitable result of the exercise of our 
ordinary functions, and is inseparable from life. 
By breathing we constantly consume oxygen and 
give out carbonic acid, and thus necessarily alter 
the proportions of these gases essential to the 
purity of the atmosphere. The action of the 
skin and other organs has a similar effect. There 
are various operations of a household, moreover, 
which are indispensable to the comfort of liv- 
ing, such as burning lights, fires, cooking, etc., 
by which the proportion of carbonic acid and 
other constituents is sensibly increased and the 
purity of the air necessarily diminished. A free 
communication with the external atmosphere by 
means of ventilation, whatever may be its kind, 
is the only effective means for the counteraction 
of this natural and unavoidable deterioration of 
the breath of life. 28 
QUALITATIVE CONTAMINATION. 
CHAPTER II. 
Qualitative Contamination of the Air.-Impurities, fault of 
the Householder.-Impurities, fault of the Community.- 
The most common causes of Diseases.-Indifference to 
protect Life compared with the love for it.-Simple Rule in 
regard to offensive and deleterious Products.-Mechanical 
Contrivances for their Removal.-The necessity of Drains. 
-How best constructed.-Soil Pipes.-Sinks.-Structure 
and Arrangement of the Water-closet.-Municipal Neglect. 
-The necessity of Public Action.-Houses in the Coun- 
try.-Strange neglect of the Requirements for Health.- 
Effect of Cess-pools and Drains upon the Health of Rustic 
Populations.-Water an essential for the Removal of all 
House Impurities.-Foul Water a Cause of Disease.- 
Cholera.-Typhus.-Construction of Cisterns. - Filtering 
of Water. 
The qualitative contamination of the air, as it 
is scientifically termed, is that vitiation of the at- 
mosphere of our houses which comes from the 
mixture with it of impurities foreign to its natu- 
ral composition. Some of these are the products 
of vital functions and almost indispensable house- 
hold operations. Though their generation to a 
certain extent is inevitable, it is by no means nec- 
essary that they should mix with and contaminate RELATION OF TOWN AND DWELLING. 
29 
the air of the dwelling. If they are allowed to 
do so, it is ordinarily our fault, and may be gen- 
erally attributed to defects of construction of the 
house, bad economy in its management, or to the 
uncleanly habits of its occupants. Many, however, 
of the impurities which so commonly vitiate the air 
we daily breathe have a source beyond the con- 
trol of each individual householder. They are nev- 
ertheless in almost every instance spontaneously 
produced, and accordingly within the power, if 
not of the single proprietor or occupant of the 
dwelling, of the community at large. These may 
be only incidentally mentioned in the course of 
this book, the purpose of which is to guide the 
conduct of the private citizen at home, and not to 
give lessons of duty to the public. The two sub- 
jects, however, have a mutual relation which it 
is impossible entirely to sever, and the individual 
and the community, the single dwelling and the 
town, must be regarded, to a certain extent, 
together, even when treating especially of the 
" Health of the House." 
It is a curious anomaly, in the general desire 
for health and love of life, that while the contam- 
ination of the air by foreign impurities can be 
prevented with perfect ease, it remains the most 
common cause of disease and death. It is calcu- 30 
DISEASES PRODUCED BY BAI) AIR. 
lated, and apparently from well-established facts, 
that at least four-fifths of all the maladies which 
inflict the human race, and these of the most fa- 
tal kind, are owing directly to the breathing of 
an air made virulent by poisons which are allowed 
voluntarily to mix with it. The deadly plagues 
and pestilences, infectious and contagious dis- 
• eases, cholera, typhus, and typhoid fevers, small- 
pox, scarlatina, even consumption, and many of 
the less fatal but more constantly prevailing ail- 
ments-as rheumatism, Bright's disease of the 
kidney, coughs, and catarrhs-have often no oth- 
er cause than an atmosphere vitiated by the un- 
cleanliness or neglect of man. 
The means for the removal of many of these 
impurities, and the consequent prevention of the 
fatal corruption of the air, are within the power 
of every builder or occupant of a house. The 
simple rule in regard to all offensive and delete- 
rious products necessarily generated in the abode 
of man, is to get rid of them in the promptest 
and most effectual manner. There are certain 
mechanical contrivances for this purpose, and 
these are essential to the comfort and healthful- 
ness of every inhabited structure. No house 
should be without its drain, and this, to be effect- 
ive, should be of a diameter of at least six inch- DRAINS AND SINKS. 
31 
es, even for the smallest dwelling. The best ma- 
terial is glazed stone-ware, and the joints should 
be connected by an impervious clay. The course 
of the drain should be as direct as possible, with- 
out angles, and with the greatest fall that can 
be obtained. If it necessarily passes under the 
house, although it is better otherwise, it should 
be imbedded in a cement of at least six inches in 
thickness. The drain should be always trapped 
and ventilated. All the waste-pipes, through 
which are discharged the contents of baths and 
sinks, should be sufficiently large to allow of a 
free flow. The soil-pipes of the water-closets and 
urinals are ordinarily of too small a calibre. A 
competent authority* declares that they should 
never be less than four inches in diameter. They 
must be composed of very strong cast-iron, with 
water-tight joints, and protected from rusting by 
several coats of paint both inside and out. When 
practicable, the course of these pipes should be 
on the outside, and not, as is commonly the case, 
through the interior of the house. Porous stone 
is a bad material for sinks; the best is either 
wood lined with lead, glazed stone-ware, or slate. 
A good-sized window, communicating directly 
* See " How to make a House Healthy and Comfortable," 
by Henry J. Lanchester. 32 
DEPENDENCE UPON MUNICIPAL RULERS. 
with the outer air, is an indispensable requisite 
for every water-closet, which, moreover, ought to 
have two doors, inclosing a lobby between, and 
made always to open inward, to prevent the pas- 
sage of bad air into the interior of the house. It 
is almost superfluous, since a royal personage was 
brought so near to death by being thus poisoned, 
to warn ordinary people against the danger of 
having a direct communication between a sleep- 
ing or other inhabited room and the water-closet. 
If, according to Sydney Smith, a railway acci- 
dent to a bishop is the best security for the fu- 
ture protection of the public, a fortiori, the sick- 
ness of a prince ought to be a safeguard for the 
general health. 
In large towns the inhabitants are necessarily 
much at the mercy of the municipal rulers who, 
blinded by ignorance, or distracted by a corrupt 
self-interest, are heedless of the requirements of 
public health. Accordingly, the supply of the 
various contrivances essential to the purification 
of the town, and consequently of every house in 
it, is either wanting or inadequate. Without a 
proper street sewage and an abundance of water 
for general use, it is impracticable for any inge- 
nuity to devise means of making a private house 
perfectly pure and wholesome. As long as in- HOUSES IX THE COUNTRY. 
33 
competency and dishonesty brood over our cities, 
we know of no way of dispelling the shadow of 
disease and death they spread than by resigna- 
tion to the fatality that menaces us. Something 
may be done, perhaps, by each householder to- 
ward*mitigating the danger, but nothing effectual 
for its removal without the aid of public author- 
ity. The poisonous air generated by the foulness 
of a neglected town can, it is true, be diluted to 
a certain extent, and its deleteriousness in conse- 
quence somewhat lessened, by due attention to 
the ventilation of private houses; but this is an 
uncertain reliance, and makes a man's health and 
life dependent more or less upon his own varying 
sensations or the caprices of others. 
In the country the purification of the dwell- 
ing is more completely under the control of the 
builder and occupant. At the same time, strange 
to say, there is less regard generally to this essen- 
tial of comfortable and healthy existence there 
than in the town. The country resident is too 
apt to presume upon the abundance of pure air 
within easy reach, where it blows freshly over the 
surface of the field and across the hill-top, to 
trouble himself much about the state of the at- 
mosphere in and about his immediate dwelling. 
We find, therefore, his cow-yard within sight, and 34 
WHAT COUNTRY DWELLINGS REQUIRE. 
easy smelling distance of the parlor, and the 
dung-heap rising nearly to the level of the bed- 
room window. 
All country dwellings should be provided with 
the same drains, sinks, and conduits that are 
found in well-arranged town houses. As there 
are no street sewers to carry away the foul prod- 
ucts of the household, these should be conveyed 
by means of proper pipes to cess-pools placed at 
as great a distance as practicable from the dwell- 
ing, and far away from the well or any source of 
supply of water necessary for use. The earth- 
closet might be used, and the cess-pool, which in 
every district, however little populous, is more or 
less a nuisance and a danger, dispensed with. 
We need hardly say that the process of manu- 
facturing the ordinary fertilizers of the soil docs 
not require to be inspected constantly by the eye 
and tested by the nose of every occupant of par- 
lor and bedroom. The horses, cows, pigs, fowls, 
and all other animals whose natural products, 
however useful, are neither ornamental to the 
sight, nor, in fact, in any way agreeable to the 
senses or healthful, had better be allowed to cre- 
ate them at a safe remove from the human dwell- 
ing-place. Such is the important bearing upon 
the health and life of the occupant of a dwelling, DANGERS OF FOUL WATER. 
35 
of its greater or less purification by the proper 
means, that an English poor-law medical officer 
solemnly declared that he had reduced his duties 
one-half-that is, had diminished in that propor- 
tion the prevailing ill health among those poor 
people in the country under his charge, by look- 
ing carefully to the cess-pools and drains, and 
having them properly constructed and placed. 
The various mechanical contrivances for the 
removal of impurities from our dwellings are 
more, or less dependent upon a supply of water. 
This should be so abundant that no fear of waste 
may prevent the frequent flushing, as it is called, 
of all conduits, soil-pipes, and drains. By this 
means they will be thoroughly cleansed, and the 
poisonous gases generated driven out through 
the ventilators, which are an essential part of all 
apparatus for draining. 
Foul water is regarded by many as even a more 
common cause of disease and death than foul air. 
Cholera, whatever may be its origin, is undoubt- 
edly propagated by foul water. The course of 
the mains in London was found to indicate ex- 
actly the progress of this fatal disease during 
several epidemics. Those districts where the 
water thus supplied was foul were struck with 
cholera, while those furnished with pure water 36 
DISEASES FROM WATER. 
escaped unharmed. Even where two mains ran 
side by side, in one of which was polluted and in 
the other unpolluted water, the disease was con- 
fined exclusively to the people who obtained their 
supplies from the former. Typhoid fever is sup- 
posed not only to be propagated by, but to derive 
its origin from, foul water. In Guilford, a small 
town in England, two hundred and fifty cases oc- 
curred within the short space of a single month. 
The district in which they took place was found 
to be supplied with water from a " reservoir. filled 
from a new well which, through the drainage of 
a fissured chalk stratum, received the soakage of 
several sewers." Here were cause and effect so 
apposite, that no one could question their direct 
relation. The foulness of the sewers had poi- 
soned the water, which, in its turn, had poisoned 
the drinkers of it. 
When a cistern is necessary, as it may be 
where there is no public supply of water, it 
should be constructed of strong slate with a per- 
fectly smooth surface. To this it would be well 
to have a filter attached, and all water for drink- 
ing should be filtered. This can be easily done 
with merely a small sponge and a little charcoal, 
the former of which should be frequently cleansed, 
and the latter occasionally renewed. AIR IX THE GROUND. 
37 
CHAPTER III. 
The Air in the Ground.-The Proportion contained in differ- 
ent Soils.-Currents of the Air of the Ground.-Every 
House ventilated from below.-Contamination of the Air 
of the Ground.-Ground permeable by poisonous Gases.- 
Interesting Illustration of Poisoning by Gas.-The Priest's 
Story.-The Influence of Temperature upon the Diffusion 
of poisonous Gases.-Gaseous Emanations from the Soil 
greatly to be feared.-How the Ground is polluted.-How 
to prevent this Pollution. - Architectural Preventives.-• 
Wet Walls.-Their Danger.-Diseases produced by wet 
Walls.-Quantity of Water used in building a House.- 
Different Powers of Absorption of Water by various Kinds 
of Building Material.-Mistakes of Tenants in Regard to 
Dryness of Walls.-Effect of Construction upon Moisture 
of Buildings.-How to dry Walls. 
Nature, in its beneficence, is very profuse in 
supplying the breath of life. The air not only 
abounds above us and about us, but under us. 
The ground is full of it. This, though not dis- 
cernible by our senses, is easily made manifest by 
the tests of the physicist. All soils contain air 
in a greater or less proportion. It forms no less 
than thirty-five per cent., or about one-third of 
the whole volume of gravel, and a considerable 38 
PERMEABILITY OF SOILS. 
part of that of sand, clay, and even some rocks. 
Sandstone, which is hardly less porous than loose 
sand, contains a notable proportion of it. This 
air of the ground is not torpid and stagnant, as 
might be supposed, but is readily and constant- 
ly put in motion by the same forces which give 
movement to that of the atmosphere. The wind 
blowing upon the surface of the earth stirs the 
air within it, and any difference of temperature 
above and below ground gives more or less rap- 
id circulation to subterranean as well as superfi- 
cial currents. 
The pressure of the heaviest superstructures is 
unable to resist the ascent of the air, and thus 
every building raised by the hand of man is ven- 
tilated from below the ground as well as from all 
the surrounding atmosphere. This subterranean 
supply of air might be a source of health, but it 
is generally made by perverse ingenuity a cause 
of disease. Wherever man fixes his abode, he 
diligently sets to work contaminating all that he 
touches; so that the breath of life is only to be 
found in its purity where there is no living hu- 
man being to need it. 
The soil, which naturally contains wholesome 
air and gives facility to its every movement, is 
not less permeable by poisonous gases, which are POISON FROM THE GROUND. 
39 
often found to pervade and issue from it. All 
large cities and populous towns may be said to 
be lying upon a stratum of poison, ready to be 
cast like the venom of a hidden serpent upon ev- 
ery one who passes. It is easy to find illustra- 
tions of the fact that people are poisoned through 
the ground, since it is almost a daily occurrence. 
Here is one, the truth of which is guaranteed by 
the best authority: In a residence at Augsburg, 
apparently endued with every qualification for 
health and comfort, several priests lived together. 
On a certain morning one of these, not the least 
zealous and prompt in the performance of his 
duties, was missed from his usual post at the 
Matin service. His colleagues hurried back to 
their common dwelling in search of the missing 
priest, and found him lying, prostrate and insen- 
sible, upon the floor of his bed-chamber. A doc- 
tor was immediately called in, and at the first 
sight of his patient declared him to be suffering 
from an attack of typhus fever. The Sisters of 
Charity, upon whom devolved the duty of nurs- 
ing him, and those clerical associates who were 
active in their sympathy and prompt to visit him 
and give assistance, were, a few hours after, at- 
tacked in the same way. The doctor did not 
hesitate in his diagnosis, and pronounced the ad- 40 
GAS! GAS ! 
ditional cases also typhus fever. As the first 
patient seemed now almost in extremis, his par- 
ents were sent for, and a general alarm prevailed 
in Augsburg. Among the inhabitants was an 
old woman* by whom, in common with the rest of 
the people, the suffering priest was greatly be- 
loved. She no sooner heard of his attack than 
she hastened to visit him, and had hardly opened 
the door and entered the room, when she ex- 
claimed, " Gas I gas 1" The doctor, firm in his 
diagnosis of typhus, pooh-poohed the suggestion, 
and was backed by the others who were present, 
and declared that there was no gas ever used in 
the house, and there were not even any means 
for the purpose. They acknowledged, however, 
that there was a bad odor sufficiently sensible, 
but this they attributed to the emanations from 
the sick. The old woman still, however, adhered 
to her view, and obtained permission to remove 
the first patient, her good pastor, to her own 
dwelling. The priest had no sooner breathed the 
fresh air, on being carried out of the door, than 
he began to revive, and during the very first 
* This sensible, energetic, and benevolent woman was the 
landlady of " The Three Moors," of Augsburg, an inn which 
we were not surprised to hear is famous for its good enter- 
tainment. POISONED BY' GAS. 
41 
evening of his removal to the new abode he be- 
came so much better as to make an importunate 
demand for food. He soon got entirely well. 
The old woman, thus confirmed in her gas 
theory, and eager to save the remaining patients, 
who had continued to increase in numbei' in the 
priests' house, now had an interview with the 
manager of the gas-works which supplied the 
town, and prevailed upon him to make an inves- 
tigation. He accordingly set, without delay, 
some skillful workmen to dig up and examine the 
condition of the gas-pipes which ran closest to 
the neighborhood of the priests' residence. This 
being done, a leak from which gas was issuing 
into the ground was found and stopped. The 
air of the house where the Sisters of Charity and 
the sick priests were still lying was perceived at 
once to improve, and with it fill the patients, who 
finally completely recovered from what the doc- 
tor even was compelled to acknowledge was not 
typhus fever, but poisoning by gas. 
Von Pettenkofer, who is the voucher for the 
narrative just given, accounts for the entrance of 
the gas into the room of the priest first poisoned 
by the fact that, as was well known, he always 
kept up a larger fire in his stove than the other 
occupants of the house. The greater heat drew 42 
NECESSITY OF PURE GROUND. 
the air from the ground with more force into his 
chamber than into the other apartments. When, 
however, it was vacated by his removal, its fire 
being extinguished, it necessarily became cold, 
and the gas, no longer entering it, diffused itself 
through the warmer rooms and poisoned their 
occupants. 
There can be no doubt that deleterious gases 
which enter the ground will find their way out 
through the porousness of the soil, and entering 
occupied buildings, deteriorate the health and 
destroy the life of the inhabitants. This is facil- 
itated by the greater warmth of houses during 
winter, producing a draught from the colder 
ground. There are few dangers to a dwelling 
from without which are more to be feared than 
these gaseous emanations from the soil. They 
often enter into our jnost secluded interiors with- 
out revealing themselves at first to the senses, 
and are only finally recognized by the havoc they 
make. There are no more insidious and fatal 
poisons. It becomes, therefore, of the utmost im- 
portance for health and life to keep the ground 
unpolluted. By the removal of all dung-heaps, 
cess-pools, and other sources of corruption, and 
a thorough system of drainage, with the fullest 
supply of pure water, it is possible to do a great HOW TO PURIFY THE SOIL. 
43 
deal; and whatever can should be done toward 
preventing the contamination of the air of the 
soil, and thus save us from being infected by ex- 
halations from below, and dying in our pent-up 
houses like poisoned rats in their holes. People 
are very apt to suppose when once an offensive 
thing is under ground there is no further annoy- 
ance to be feared. This, however, is a fatal mis- 
take, and thousands of lives have been sacrificed 
to it. 
The evils arising from the impurities of the 
soil may be slightly mitigated, perhaps, by 
spreading a thick coating of cement over the 
ground of the vaults, cellars, and court-yards, 
but this will indeed be only a mitigation, and 
nothing effectual can be done without thorough- 
ly getting rid of all sources of corruption, or re- 
moving them to a remote and safe distance from 
the dwelling. 
There is a danger to health and life in newly- 
built houses often feared but seldom sufficiently 
guarded against. This is the wetness of the 
walls. All those diseases which are the results 
of what is commonly called catching cold, and 
are by no means the least of those to which the 
human being is subject, are often attributed by 
the doctor to living in dwellings not sufficiently 44 
WET WALLS. 
dry. Catarrhs, the various affections of the 
lungs, rheumatism, and that now so common and 
fatal malady, Bright's disease of the kidneys, are 
said to be frequently produced by this cause. 
Wet walls, by the evaporation from their sur- 
faces, a process which is constant as long as a 
drop of moisture is left, not only produce a posi- 
tive cold, but, being good conductors of heat, 
take away the warmth of other bodies exposed to 
their influence. Thus those living in damp struc- 
tures are liable to be chilled in two ways-indi- 
rectly by the rapid loss of their heat, which is 
conducted away by the wall, and directly by the 
impression of the cold which comes from the 
evaporation of its moist surfaces. These effects 
are especially dangerous to health, since they are, 
as it were, one-sided. The cold acts partially, 
and thus the heating process of the body, which 
should be uniform and equable, is deranged, with 
the ordinary consequences of irritation, conges- 
tion, and inflammation. 
There is another hygienic danger in wet walls. 
In becoming saturated with moisture they lose 
their permeability by air, and the house is de- 
prived of one of its chief sources of healthfulness 
-the ventilation through the materials of which 
they may be composed. DANGERS OF NEW HOUSES. 
45 
A contemporary writer,* who seems to be fully 
alive to the dangers of new houses, says: " One 
of the many errors which people who build 
houses are apt to commit is that of living in 
them, or rather dying in them, before they are 
sufficiently dry for occupation. It not unfre- 
quently happens that a man, disgusted with the 
defective sanitary arrangements of the generality 
of houses, ancient and modern, builds a dwelling 
for himself and his family, constructed with all 
the latest improvements, and in his extreme anx- 
iety to commence a career of longevity rushes 
into it almost before the workmen are out of it, 
and while the walls are still saturated with moist- 
ure. The consequences are as might have been 
expected: in addition to the architect's charges, 
the rash owner is called upon to pay within the 
first few months a further bill to the doctor, and 
too often to the undertaker also. A house agent, 
not long ago, being asked why the house agency 
business was so commonly combined with that of 
the undertaker, grimly replied that the two c went 
together;' and on being asked for a further ex- 
planation, stated that he had found, as an almost 
invariable rule, that when as a house agent he 
found a tenant for a newly-built house, he was 
* Fall Mall Gazette. 46 
PEABODY BUILDINGS. 
applied to as an undertaker on behalf of that 
tenant or some member of his family within a 
twelvemonth from the date of oecupation. lie 
added that he himself (the house agent) would 
be sorry to live in any house ' that had not been 
baked by six summer suns.' Whether this 
amount of baking is absolutely required is a 
question for doctors and architects to decide; 
but there can be no doubt whatever that a wane 
of caution in this respect leads occasionally to 
the most lamentable consequences. An instance 
in point will be found in the case of the Pea- 
body's Buildings, mentioned in the annual report 
of the medical officer of health for Southwark, 
lately printed. It seems that these buildings 
have a death-rate of in 1000 persons living, 
or 1 in 43. In other metropolitan model build- 
ings the death-rate only averages 17 per 1000. 
The less favorable state of health prevailing in 
Peabody's Buildings is attributed to their being 
too soon occupied after construction, many of 
the ground-floors having been found to be still 
very damp some months' after the buildings were 
inhabited." 
When the quantity of water necessarily used 
in the construction of a building, apart from the 
absorption of moisture, going on more or less WATEB IN NEW BUILDINGS. 
47 
constantly, is considered, it will not surprise any 
person that our new houses are damp, but rather 
astonish most people that the old ones should ever 
become dry. * 
Any ordinary observer will have remarked the 
great demand for water by the mason when build- 
ing a house. A well or pump, if not conveniently 
at hand, is constructed at once as the first requi- 
site for conducting the operation, and during ev- 
ery step there may be heard the urgent call to the 
laborer for water! water I A careful investigator* 
states, as the result of his experiments, that a well- 
burned brick, of medium hardness and of ordina- 
ry size, is capable of absorbing more than ten per 
cent, of its weight of water. It may be assumed, 
however, that, in the course of the operations it is 
made to undergo in building, it takes up only five 
per cent. Now we are told that for the construc- 
tion of a house of three stories, each of which con- 
tains five rooms and a kitchen, 167,000 bricksf 
are required. A single brick weighs five kilo- 
grammes, and as it is supposed to absorb five 
per cent, of its weight, 167,000 bricks will take 
up during the building of the house 41,750 kilo- 
* Von Pettcnkofer. 
t The bricks here spoken of are those ordinarily used in 
Munich. 48 
HOW TO GET BID OF WATEB. 
grammes of water, which is the equivalent of 
41,750 litres. In round numbers, we may put the 
quantity of water absorbed by the bricks in the 
course of the construction of the house described 
at 15,000 gallons. One-fifth of the whole mason- 
ry is composed of mortar, and this is much more 
absorbent than brick. We will suppose that the 
quantity of water taken up by the mortar is only 
equal to, although it must be considerably moite 
than that of the bricks, and thus by the use alone 
of these two substances we shall have employed 
30,000 gallons of water in the raising of our 
house. 
Most of this enormous quantity of water must 
be got rid of in some way before the dwelling can 
become sufficiently healthful for the habitation 
of man. These 30,000 gallons, which are satura- 
ting the outer and inner walls, the ceilings, and 
even the floorings, from the basement to the sum- 
mit, filling the pores of the bricks and plaster, 
the stone and the slate of every new house, can 
only be discharged by one means. It is obvious 
that they can not be pumped or wrung out, either 
by mechanical or physical force, drawn off or boil- 
ed away. It is by evaporation alone, through the 
medium of the air, that this water can be made 
to disappear and the dwelling rendered sufficient- DELUSIONS OF TENANTS. 
49 
ly dry for healthy occupation. This process es- 
sentially depends upon the moisture of the air and 
the temperature of the water. If the former is 
not sufficiently dry and the latter too cold, the 
drying of a house by evaporation will be almost 
impossible; and under the most favorable condi- 
tions it must be necessarily a very slow process.* 
There is a mistake frequently made by the hasty 
occupant of a new dwelling, which often proves 
too precipitately fatal to allow even of the leisure 
required for a useful repentance. Inspecting the 
surface of the walls and finding them to all ap- 
pearance dry, he does not hesitate to accept the 
assurance of the builder, confirmed by his own 
investigation, that the house is in a fit condition 
to be occupied. lie accordingly moves in with 
the utmost confidence, but has hardly made his 
first fire, when he discovers that the walls, which 
have been declared by others and felt by himself 
to be " as dry as a bone," begin to show on one 
surface or the other, in this corner or that, now 
small islets and then great continents of moisture. 
From the windows, too, he sees full streams of 
* At the mean annual moisture and temperature of the at- 
mosphere of temperate climates, it has been estimated that 
1360 millions of cubic feet of air are necessary to dry a house 
built of 167,000 bricks. 50 
SPOTS ON WALLS. 
sweat rolling down, and feels the whole atmos- 
phere of the house to be reeking with a musty 
dampness. 
We need hardly say that the unhappy occu- 
pant has been the victim of the ignorance or 
cunning of the builder and a presumptuous con- 
fidence in his own senses. His house, in a word, 
was not dry when he entered it. There was cer- 
tainly a sufficient appearance of dryness before 
occupation to delude the senses of any ordinary 
observer, but no sooner has the dweller entered 
with his family, than these obvious proofs of 
continued moisture manifest themselves. The 
atmosphere has become suturated with the wa- 
tery vapor exhaled from the lungs and skin of 
the inhabitants of the house, and produced by 
the various functions of the household, in which 
a free use of water at a high temperature is req- 
uisite. If the walls had been thoroughly dry 
this moisture would have passed through their 
pores, but meeting with the opposing water 
with which they are saturated, it is deposited 
in distinct spots upon their cold surfaces. The 
apparent dryness which had deceived the occu- 
pants of the house, was owing to the air mixed 
with the water contained in the superficial pores 
of the material composing the structure. All MOIST WINDOW-PANES. 
51 
the rest were evidently filled with water only, for 
no sooner was a considerable quantity of watery 
vapor produced inside of the dwelling by habita- 
tion, than, finding no outlet through the wall, it 
was necessarily deposited on its surface. 
It must not be supposed that when moisture 
is found to dim the inside of the window-panes 
that the building is not dry. Whenever the at- 
mosphere of a dwelling is saturated with watery 
vapor, the glass, for it is not porous, will show 
indications of it, but the walls will not unless 
they are already wholly or almost filled with hu- 
midity. Moist spots showing here and there 
upon the walls of a house soon after occupation, 
however dry before they seem to ordinary ob- 
servers, and are pronounced by interested per- 
sons, may be taken as a sure proof that they 
were never in reality so, and that no one could 
live within their inclosure without a dangerous 
risk to health and life. 
The obvious conclusion, from the fact that new 
structures are saturated with water, which can 
only be got rid of by heat and air, is that it is 
necessary, for thorough drying, to submit them 
for a long time to an abundant supply of both. A 
constant and high degree of-warmth through nu- 
merous fires, and a thorough ventilation by means 52 
REMEDY FOR WET WALLS. 
of open doors and windows, must be kept up, and 
no one careful of his health should ever dwell in 
a new house until many months aftei' its con- 
struction, during which these means for driving 
away its moisture have been industriously used. 
Since buildings with walls of porous materials 
are, as we have seen, the most readily permeable 
by air, and necessarily the best ventilated and 
easiest dried, it may be questioned whether tiie 
structures of iron and zinc now getting into 
vogue are as favorable to the health of their 
inhabitants as the old-fashioned ones of wood, 
brick, and stone. At any rate, it does not admit 
of doubt that mechanical contrivances for venti- 
lation are indispensable in the houses of metal, 
though perhaps not in those of other material. 
Something can be done, perhaps, in the course 
of its construction, toward insuring a dry build- 
ing by the various artifices of the builder, such as 
placing a layer of concrete under the whole under- 
surface and erecting a low wall of perforated brick 
around the base, with a space of a few inches left 
between them. These contrivances may guard 
against the absorption of fresh moisture from 
the ground, but will never discharge the water 
abounding in every new structure of masonry. 
This can only be effected by the persevering ap- 
plication of heat and air. WHENCE COMES ANIMAL HEAT? 
53 
Whence comes the Heat of our Bodies ?-How Heat is got 
rid of.- How retained.-Heating of the House.-Fur- 
naces.-Steam and hot Air.-The English Fire-place.- 
Its Advantages and Disadvantages.-The Porcelain Stove. 
-Its Advantages.-The Advantages of Diffusion of Heat. 
-The Dangers of separate heated Apartments.-Hot In- 
teriors in America.-Their Effect upon Habits and Health. 
-Human Exotics. 
It is commonly believed by unscientific people 
fiiat the warmth of our bodies is mainly derived 
from the heat of the sun in summer, or artificial 
fires and thick clothing in winter. Every one, 
however, who is the least acquainted with chem- 
ical physiology knows that the animal heat is the 
product of a vital process going on constantly 
within the body. This is so much of an internal 
action, that it will continue quite independently 
of the influence of any outside warmth, whether 
derived from natural or artificial sources. The 
temperature of the living body in the hottest 
summer and coldest winter is the same. The 
blood of the African, lying in the hot sand of the 
tropics and baking in the sun, is hardly warmer 
CHAPTER IV. 54 
SUPERFLUOUS HEAT. 
than that of the Esquimaux, shaded by the night 
of his long winter and perpetually surrounded 
with ice. 
It is not, however, to be concluded that the 
sources of external warmth have no important 
part to act in the economy of life. The contrary 
is proved by the experience of every poor unclad 
wretch freezing in the winter's blast, and over- 
worked laborer withering under the stroke of the 
summer's sun. The artificial means that we may 
have of warming in winter and cooling ourselves 
in summer, are not only essential to comfort but 
to health and life; for, though it is true that the 
natural process for the production of animal heift 
will continue for a time without these external 
aids, it will do so only at the expense of the ani- 
mal organism, the various parts of which will be- 
come deranged and the equilibrium of their com- 
mon action lost. 
A superfluity of heat is produced in the body 
of every human being while in the regular per- 
formance of his natural functions. Thisfis got 
rid of by radiation, evaporation, and conduction ; 
and upon the more or less rapidity and thorough- 
ness with which they act depends the sensation of 
cold and heat. The purpose of all artificial cool- 
ing or warming apparatus is to regulate the ac- HOW WE WARM OURSELVES. 
55 
tion of these processes. In summer, as they are 
naturally slow to operate in consequence of the 
surrounding heat, we strive to avail ourselves of 
such means as are known to quicken them. We 
avoid the hot sun, we seek the shady place, we 
invite the breeze, and we clothe ourselves in light 
and thin garments. We, in a word, surround 
ourselves with as cool objects as possible-those, 
in fact, which are known to favor these three proc- 
esses essential to getting rid of the superfluous 
warmth of our bodies. In winter, on the contra- 
ry, there being in consequence of the cold a tend- 
ency to an excessive corporeal radiation, conduc- 
tion, and evaporation, we do our best to check 
their action, by using means the opposite of those 
employed in summer. We consequently surround 
our frames with objects called warm, or those 
which are unfavorable to the processes by which 
the body gets rid of its heat. We cover our- 
selves with fur and woolen, and warm the air of 
our houses by means of fires. It is by these ex- 
ternal aids, acting in harmony with the internal 
economy of his body, that man is enabled to adapt 
his life to the variations of the seasons, and the 
extremes of temperature in different climates. 
It would seem a simple thing enough to get 
all the warmth desired in the coldest weather by 56 
THE FURNACE. 
merely burning any of the combustible material 
in which the world abounds, in sufficient quantity 
to heat the atmosphere surrounding our bodies. 
The warming of our artificially constructed houses, 
however, is by no means so simple a process. 
There are three requirements of the household 
-health, comfort, and economy-which it is not 
always easy to combine. 
The whole house in winter should be, if possi- 
ble, of an uniform temperature, and this is only 
to be obtained by means of a general heating ap- 
paratus ; what the French call a culorifere and 
we a furnace, is the best apparatus undoubtedly 
for this purpose. Whether air or steam be used 
as the medium of diffusing the heat, we think, as 
regards health, of little moment. The latter has 
the advantage, perhaps, of giving a more equable 
warmth, and drying less the moisture of the at- 
mosphere; but the machinery required is expen- 
sive, and not very easy to regulate, except where 
it already exists for the generation of steam for 
other purposes. The ordinary hot-air furnace is 
readily managed, and, if its use is combined with 
a proper regard to ventilation, will exert no un- 
favorable influence upon comfort or health. The 
universal warming of a house by this or other 
means has the advantage of admitting a free open- THE OPEN GRATE. 
57 
ing of doors and windows, and thus giving circu- 
lation to the air without reducing too much the 
temperature. The English people are great advo- 
cates for their national grate* of sea-coal. They 
descant upon the cheerfulness of its glow, and the 
power with which it draws to the fireside and in- 
vites to social enjoyments. The gloom of a cli- 
mate seldom brightened by the rays of the sun 
causes the Englishman naturally to seek a relief 
from the sombreness of all that surrounds him in 
the glare of artificial light and the gorgeousness 
of manufactured colors. lie thus delights in the 
blaze of his gaseous coal as in the brilliancy of 
a variegated neck-tie and waistcoat. We con- 
fess that the Tartarus of a London winter requires 
all the enlivenment of an open fire of blazing bitu- 
men to reconcile us to the deprivation of the sun's 
light, and to save us from total despair of the 
future smiles of Heaven. 
The open grate is not, in our brighter climate, 
an essential requisite for the enjoyment of life, 
but, if desired, it can always be used as an adjunct 
to the furnace or other means of warmth. It is, 
however, impracticable, during our coldest weath- 
er, thoroughly to heat a house with the open fire- 
* The open grate, as generally used in England, is not, in 
fact, of native origin, but was invented by Count Rumford, an 
American. 58 
PORCELAIN- STOVE. 
place alone, however great may be the combustion 
raised. There are many disadvantages, too, at- 
tendant upon the use of the grate and an exposed 
fire of coal. Most of the heat produced is lost 
by passing up the chimney, and the only warmth 
left for the behoof of the occupant of the room 
is that of the hot bars in front, close to which he 
is obliged to place himself, with the disadvantage 
of stewing before while he freezes behind, or 
vied versa, so that in fact his body is perpetually 
alternating between a chill and a simmer. The 
grate fire is inadequate and therefore costly, and 
its emanations of gas and dust are not only fatal 
to cleanliness but dangerous to health. The open 
fire of wood, though less filthy and unwholesome, 
is still more expensive in most populous districts, 
and not so heating. 
For warming a single room or a small suite 
of contiguous apartments, the porcelain stove of 
the continent of Europe has many conveniences. 
It can be made ornamental, and is cleanly and 
economical. Once well heated, it retains its 
warmth and continues to radiate it for a long 
time, requiring little skill and attention in its 
management. Where generally used, however, 
the absence of a widely open fire-place, which is 
thought to be a good ventilator, is regarded by 
some as a disadvantage. But if the porcelain DIFFUSION OF HEAT. 
59 
stove is allowed its full draught, we can not see 
why it should not aid as promptly in ventilating 
as the grate, while, unlike the latter, it emits nei- 
ther smoke nor deleterious gas. Stoves of met- 
al, and especially those of cast-iron, are objec- 
tionable, for it has been found that the perni- 
cious gas generated by combustion forces its 
way through the material of which they are com- 
posed, and pollutes dangerously the outer air. 
No method of partial warming should be ac- 
cepted as a substitute for that which is adapted 
for the diffusion of heat throughout the whole 
dwelling. When a room is separately heated, it 
becomes necessary, in order to raise and keep it 
to the degree of temperature required for com- 
fort, to close it almost hermetically, lest any 
communication with the. other unwarmed apart- 
ments of the house should render it too cold. 
The consequence is that such a room, can never 
be properly ventilated, and will generally be 
overheated. It is not difficult to warm a shut- 
up apartment enough, but by no means easy to 
prevent it from being heated too much. A hot 
room in a cold house has the further disadvan- 
tage of sucking in, as it were, through all cracks 
and crevices the foul air which fills the whole 
structure, when closed fast, as it is sure to be, 
against every breath of winter. 60 
OVERHEATED HOUSES. 
The temperature of a house generally warmed 
by a furnace or other means requires, of course, 
to be carefully regulated. The thermometer 
must be diligently consulted, and the heat, as a 
rule, not allowed to exceed 65° of Fahrenheit. 
People generally, in America, keep their dwell- 
ings in winter too warm, and are apt to justify 
the high degree of temperature to which they 
raise them, by their experience of the comfort- 
able endurance in summer of the same or greater 
heat. They need to be reminded that in conse- 
quence of a modification of the economy of their 
bodies, in accordance with the change of season, 
the same external warmth is neither comfortable 
nor healthful in winter. Hot houses are not nec- 
essarily ill-ventilated houses ; in fact, their very 
excess of heat tends to draw within them an 
abundant supply of air from without. An over- 
heated atmosphere, however, has the serious dis- 
advantage of not only indisposing the human 
body to meet, but unfitting it to endure, the rig- 
or of winter. Thus the exotic creatures of our 
hot-houses languish away indolently at home, 
breathe only a heated air, and, neither giving to 
their limbs nor lungs the requisite exercise, lose 
their vigor, and are withered by the first blast 
of winter that may chance to touch them. SOLAR LIGHT. 
61 
CHAPTER V. 
Solar Light essential to Life.-A Vegetable Illustration.- 
Health of People living Under-ground.-Mines, etc.-Ef- 
fect of Light upon Growth and Vigor of the Young.-So- 
lar Light prescribed by the Doctors.-Aspect in Regard 
to Light to be attended to in Building.-Precautions to 
be taken in large Towns.-New Cities and old Towns.- 
How to obtain Light in Houses.-Tax on Light in En- 
gland.- Its Consequences.-Plenty of Windows.-Dun- 
geons.-Parlors.-Heavy Curtains.-Dark Rooms.-Mo- 
tives of Ladies.-Miss Nightingale's Testimony as to Ef- 
fect of Light upon the Sick.-Effect of Artificial Light 
upon the Air of the Dwelling.-Philosophy of Artificial 
Light.-How to counteract the bad Effect of Artificial 
Light.-Best Kinds of Light.-How to burn Gas. 
Solar light is almost as essential to life as 
air. Without it most animals, and even plants, 
dwindle, become diseased, or die. The familiar 
process of the gardener in cultivating celery, by 
which he buries the plant as far as possible in 
the earth, has no other purpose than to deprive 
it of light, and thus render the vegetable pale 
and delicate. The result, however highly ap- 
preciated by the artificial taste of the epicure, is 
none the less a morbid one, and the whiteness 62 
THE SUN-A GOOD TONIC. 
and tenderness of the favorite esculent are as 
much, symptoms of disease as the pallor and 
weakness of the rickety child. In fact, the 
same cause-the deprivation of light-produces 
the same effects in both. 
Miners who spend their days beneath the sur- 
face of the earth, and people who live in under- 
ground apartments or darkened abodes, have al- 
ways pale complexions and weakened bodies. 
The growth of the young and the develop- 
ment of their vigor are arrested by habitual 
confinement to habitations from which the sun's 
light is excluded. The physician is so well aware 
of the effect of the solar rays upon health and 
strength, that it is a favorite prescription with 
him to order the weakly and sick to be directly 
exposed to them. It is the practice, on every 
clear, warm day, in the Child's Hospital of Paris, 
to arrange the little patients in successive rows 
upon a broad structure of wood inclined toward 
the sun, and let them bask for hours together in 
its vivifying rays. The result is found tb be ex- 
cellent; and there is no tonic in the pharmaco- 
poeia which will compare in efficacy with that 
great natural invigorator, the sun. 
In building and planning all dwellings, it is es- 
sential to consider the influence of the solar rays NEW TOWNS. 
63 
upon the health of their inhabitants. If possi- 
ble, the aspect of the structure and its plan, as 
well as the arrangement of its furniture and dec- 
orations, should be such as to admit of a free ex- 
posure without, to the influence, and of a plenti- 
ful diffusion within, of the light of the sun. 
In populous towns, the inhabitants for the 
most part are forced to submit to the exigen- 
cies of municipal order and regulation, and con- 
sequently to live more or less constantly in 
the shade of great walls of brick and towering 
heights of stone. In our land the foundation of 
a new city is almost a daily event, and the open 
field and free path of the country of to-day be- 
come the populous house, block, and the thronged 
street of to-morrow. 
The founders of the ever-rising Romes and 
Carthages of our aspiring people should not, in 
their haste to raise temples of brick with porti- 
coes of plaster, and rows of palaces with columns 
of wood and capitals of tin, forget that cities 
ought to be designed as healthful abodes, and not 
merely as objects for photography to turn into 
delusive pictures whereby to catch the unwary 
settler. 
The old towns of Europe were constructed, for 
the most part, with the view of huddling together 64 
OLD TOWNS. 
the houses as closely as possible within the in- 
closure of the wall of a castle, that their inhab- 
itants might be guarded by the warlike baron 
against his enemies. His protection, it is true, 
was "such protection as vultures give to lambs, 
first covering, then devouring them;" but the 
motive for keeping them closely penned up re- 
mained the same. Of course, towns constructed 
for such a purpose were deprived of necessary 
light as well as air, and were constantly ravaged 
by worse enemies than the baron or- his foes- 
the fatal plague and sweating sickness. In this 
country there is certainly space enough, and we 
should expand our cities accordingly, and allow 
no design in their construction to shut out un- 
necessarily the light or any other health-giving 
blessing. 
However unfavorable may be the original plan 
and position of a town for an abundant supply 
of solar light to its inhabitants, the builder and 
occupant of every house have it in their power to 
secure for themselves a certain quantity of this 
essential of health. This is obviously to be ob- 
tained, in the first place, by having plenty of win- 
dows. 
In Great Britain, a heavy tax was for many 
years imposed upon every dwelling in which there TAXING THE LIGHT. 
65 
were more than a certain small number of windows 
of a fixed size, so that most people except the very 
rich were forced to deprive themselves of the nec- 
essary supply of light. New houses were accord- 
ingly constructed with as few and small windows 
as possible, and many of the old ones which hap- 
pened to have the taxable number were made to 
avoid the fiscal imposition by closing up every 
supernumerary opening which might possibly ad- 
mit a solar ray. It was thus not an unusual thing 
to see a great structure of walls of stone and 
brick casting heavy shadows of darkness within 
and without, while here and there appeared indi- 
cations of former sources of light which had been 
sedulously obstructed. This view of a bunged- 
up house, in the dismal atmosphere of London 
fog and smoke, struck the observer as not un- 
like that of a man trying to see in the dimness 
of twilight, while voluntarily blinding his eyes. 
The tax being found to be not only a scant source 
of revenue, but an abounding cause of discom- 
fort and ill health, has been abrogated, and the 
English people are now in the full enjoyment of 
whatever spare ray of light may succeed in strug- 
gling through their thick atmosphere of mist and 
coal-smoke. 
We would advise all denizens of the town to 66 
FASHIONABLE DUNGEONS. 
have as many windows as possible, as well as sky- 
lights and other means by which the healthful 
sun's rays may enter into their dwellings. The 
peculiar construction of our town houses, neces- 
sitated by the long parallelogram of the lots and 
close junction of the buildings, although not the 
most favorable to sources of light, is still not nec- 
essarily so conducive to darkness as it is often 
allowed to be. 
A less desire to pile up the large masses of ma- 
sonry which cover every spare inch of a short and 
narrow bit of ground, and cast heavy shadows, 
making darkness necessary and lightness of the 
interior impracticable, would greatly tend to im- 
provement in the construction of our dwellings. 
That middle dungeon, between the front parlor 
and dining-room, in which families are so fond of 
immuring themselves, would no longer exist, and 
the health and enjoyment of daily life be greatly 
increased. Bow-windows might be generally 
adopted, and the admission of light into the 
house thus more favored. The blind, though in- 
dispensable, perhaps, in the hotter, should be rare- 
ly used in the cooler seasons. The impenetrable 
shades, heavy curtains, and other contrivances for 
the production of darkness, by which tenacious 
old ladies strive to hide, and aspiring young ones EFFECT OF LIGHT UPON THE SICK. 
67 
to improve, their complexions, are not favorable 
to health, however successful they may be in 
keeping up the delusions of faded age and the 
hopes of progressive youth. 
"It is the unqualified result of all my experi- 
ence," says one* well entitled to speak of it, " with 
the sick, that second only to their need of fresh 
air is their need of light; that, after a close room, 
that what hurts them most is a dark room, and 
that it is not only light, but direct sunlight they 
want. You had better carry your patient about 
after the sun, according to the aspect of the rooms, 
if circumstances permit, than let him linger in a 
room when the sun is off. People think that the 
effect is upon the spirits only. This is by no 
means the case. . . . Who has not observed the 
purifying effect of light, and especially of direct 
sunlight, upon the air of a room ? Here is an ob- 
servation within every body's experience. Go into 
a room where the shutters are always shut (in a 
sick-room or a bedroom there should never be 
shutters shut), and though the room be uninhabit- 
ed, though the air has never been polluted by the 
breathing of human beings, you will observe a 
close, musty smell of corrupt air-of air, i. e., un- 
purified by the effect of the sun's rays. The 
* Miss Nightingale. 68 
ARTIFICIAL LIGHTS. 
mustiness of dark rooms and corners, indeed, is 
proverbial. The cheerfulness of a room, the use- 
fulness of light in treating disease, is all-impor- 
tant." 
All the ordinary processes of illuminating a 
dwelling artificially, deteriorate the air we breathe. 
The light produced is the result of the combina- 
tion of burning bodies with the oxygen of the at- 
mosphere, which is thus deprived, in proportion to 
the degree of combustion, of a constituent essen- 
tial to its normal composition. This constituent 
moreover, oxygen, is the vital principle of air. 
Without it life is impossible, and a lessening of 
its proper quantity in the composition of any at- 
mosphere we breathe is unfavorable to health. 
Nor is the loss of this essential source of vitality 
the only ill effect of artificial illumination. The 
combustion without which light is impossible ex- 
erts a double malignity-it takes away a life-giver 
and gives back a death-producer; for the process 
of burning mainly depends upon the union of the 
carbon of the combustible with the oxygen of the 
air in which it is burned, thus producing the poi- 
sonous gas, carbonic acid. 
With a sufficient number of burning lights, the 
air of a close apartment may be easily made a 
deadly poison to all who breathe it. The char- GOOD AND BAD LIGHTS. 
69 
coal-burner, by the dim fire of which the suicidal 
wretch lies down to die, exerts its fatal power 
through the same chemical process as a wax-can- 
dle illuminates the gayety of a ball-room. 
There is no other way of counteracting the ill 
effects inevitable, even with proper usage, of the 
ordinary lights for domestic purposes, than by 
abundantly ventilating our dwellings with pure 
air. Bad means of artificial illumination, or im- 
proper usage of good ones, are productive of 
such evils as can and should be avoided. All 
materials which are not as thoroughly combusti- 
ble as the requirements for complete illumina- 
tion will allow, should be rejected. Ill-made 
candles, and inferior oils, which give out a great 
deal of smoke in burning, are doubly injurious, 
for they corrupt the air, not only as every other 
artificial source of light, by the necessary proc- 
ess of combustion, but also by the poisonous va- 
pors they emit. A smoking light, whatever may 
be its nature, may be regarded as especially un- 
wholesome. 
It is thought by some experienced architects 
that a ventilator should be provided for each 
gas-burner, wherever used. This, however, is 
hardly necessary; for when the gas is of an av- 
erage quality, and the gasometer so regulated 70 
HOW TO USE GAS. 
as to avoid an excessive pressure and insure a 
thorough combustion, there need be no fear of 
any unusual ill effects. All consumers of gas 
should be reminded, that if with these neces- 
sary provisions the burners are turned full on, 
there will be less danger of an escape of noxious 
vapors. SITUATION OF THE HOUSE. 
71 
CHAPTER VI. 
The Situation of the House.-Indifference to natural Beau- 
ty.-Affected Admiration.-Influence of natural Beauty. 
-How to choose a Site for the Dwelling.-Hills.-Drain- 
age.-Effect of Trees.-Aspect of House.-Soil.-Anti- 
dote to Miasma.-Houses in Towns.-Nothing without 
Drainage.-City Prospects.-How crowded Cities are to 
be made healthful.-Who should benefit by Improvements. 
-Hospitals, etc., where they should be placed.-What to 
avoid in choosing a Site in Town.-Churches as Neigh- 
bors.-Slaughter-houses, etc.-The best Streets.-Gardens 
to the Houses.-A foolish Concession to Fashion. 
There is nothing people talk so much and 
care so little about as the situation of the houses 
they dwell in. To have a good or a fine view, 
as it is termed, might be supposed, to hear the 
universal expression of sentiment on the subject, 
the chief end of living. An extended prospect 
of the beauties of nature, the sight of so many 
distant mountains, so much water, such an ex- 
panse of land surface, with its varieties of hill, 
dale, grove, and field, would seem to be indis- 
pensable to the happiness of the great majority 
of mankind. It is a fact, however, that most 72 
INDIFFERENCE TO VIEW. 
persons in their daily life are quite indifferent 
to all the beauties of natural scenery. Those 
before whom they are always spread, and need 
not turn to look upon them, having eyes see 
them not, and those who are shut out from their 
view by a dead-wall care not, however easily it 
may be passed, to go beyond in search of a 
glance at them. A Swiss peasant w'ould not 
raise his eyes for a moment from the root at 
which he is grubbing to look upon the Jungfrau 
transfigured with all the glories of the setting 
sun. A New York merchant will grope on day 
after day along brick walls without ever taking 
a step to enjoy the freedom of beauty so gener- 
ously proffered by nature outside of his self-im- 
posed prison. There are said to be men and 
women in our city to whom neither want of 
time nor money has ever been an obstacle, who 
have yet to spend the few minutes and coppers 
required to cross the noblest river in the world, 
and have, of course, never looked upon one of 
the finest views of natural scenery the eye of 
man can behold. 
With all this real indifference to the beauties 
of nature, there is an affected admiration of 
them. That this admiration is not a genuine 
and spontaneous feeling, is apparent from the CHARMS OF NATURAL SCENERY. 
73 
forced attention given to the supposed attrac- 
tions of natural scenery when the occasion seems 
to require it, and the general want of apprecia- 
tion of all ideal representations of them by art. 
There is nothing to which the ordinary eai- and 
eye is so shut as to descriptive poetry and land- 
scape painting. 
We do not wish it to be understood that be- 
cause the beauties of nature are so little appre- 
ciated people should studiously avoid them. 
They may exercise their beneficent influences 
unconsciously to the beholder, and we therefore 
would encourage even the most insensible to sur- 
round themselves, if they possess the power, with 
all the charms of natural scenery. At the same 
time, it is hardly worth the while to sacrifice 
more substantial advantages to any sentimental 
fancy for the beautiful. Our purpose in direct- 
ing the choice of a situation for a dwelling is to 
point out what may be rather conducive to health 
and comfort than to the gratification of taste and 
the enjoyment of nature. 
Pure air, an abundance of it, and dryness, are 
necessary to the wholesomeness of the dwelling 
of man. If, in the country, one has more or 
less liberty of choice of situation, he should, if 
possible, select high ground for the site of his 74 
THE BEST SITE FOR HOUSE. 
house. It had better be placed on the slope than 
the summit of a hill, for the latter will be too ex- 
posed to wind and storm, while the former will 
be more or less protected, and at the same time 
offer the proper facilities for that great essen- 
tial to the healthfulness of a dwelling, thorough 
drainage. With a house thus situated, more- 
over, below the extreme height there will be 
space of ground behind left for the planting of 
trees, to serve as a shelter from the heat of sum- 
mer and the blasts of winter. It is a mistake, 
however, whatever may be the picturesque ef- 
fect, to have trees very near the residence. They 
are reservoirs of moisture, and though they may 
secure the coolness of shade, they, by intercept- 
ing the air and hindering ventilation, render a 
house unwholesome. Certain trees, as the syca- 
more, elm, beech, and horse-chestnut, are espe- 
cially interdicted by the experienced, while oth- 
ers are deemed allowable, as the cedar and va- 
rious pines and firs, which, being of smaller 
growth and more meagre foliage, harbor less 
moisture, and do not interfere so much with the 
circulation of the air. 
No dwelling can be healthful which does not 
receive on its surface, or at least on some part 
of it, the direct rays of the sun. The house may EFFECT OF SITUATION UPON HEALTH. 
75 
be so placed or constructed that the glare of 
light can be subdued or diverted in such a man- 
ner as not to be excessive or too intrusive for 
comfort. The plan followed by some architects 
of placing the residence diagonally to the four 
points of the compass is a good one, as by this 
means the rays of the sun will fall aslant upon 
every side of the house, and thus the whole struc- 
ture will have the full benefit of the healthful- 
ness of their light, while their glow will be less 
direct upon the windows, and their intrusiveness 
more readily guarded against. The subsoil, be- 
fore building a dwelling, should be dry, and the 
ground-floor never below the level of the road. 
Houses ought not to be placed in a recess cut in 
the side of a hill, for its site will thus serve mere- 
ly as a reservoir for moisture and all kinds of' 
impurity. An English writer says that when the 
cholera prevailed in Alnwick, " he found, upon 
examination, that in all cases where the houses 
were built in streets running in a sort of valley, 
with high ground back and front, the cholera 
was raging in those streets, while houses close 
by, but built under more favorable circumstances, 
were free from the plague." 
Where there is good artificial drainage, it mat- 
ters little what may be the nature of the soil upon 76 
THE BEST SOILS. 
which the dwelling is situated. In the absence, 
however, of any contrivance by art for draining, 
it becomes a matter of the greatest importance 
to secure the best natural substitutes. Gravelly 
and sandy soils are the best, for water passes rap- 
idly through them; and clayey and rocky the 
worst, for they hold fast the moisture, and allow 
it, with all its impurities, to evaporate and diffuse 
its poison throughout and around the whole dwell- 
ing. There is, in reality, no natural substitute 
for a good artificial drainage, which is, indeed, 
essential to the wholesomeness of every house. 
The exposure in our comparatively unsettled 
country to miasm is almost unavoidable at times. 
The best temporary expedients for protection 
against its dangers that we know of are open 
windows and blazing fires, even during the warm- 
est days of spring and autumn. Complete drain- 
age, however, is here again the only sure remedy 
to rely upon. 
The inhabitants of large towns are, as regards 
the healthfulness of the situation of their dwell- 
ings, very much at the mercy of the municipali- 
ties which govern them. If the drainage should 
be imperfect, the cleansing of the streets neglect- 
ed, the water supply scanty or unwholesome, and 
nuisances, such as soap-boiling, cattle-slaughter- TOWN VIEWS. 
77 
ing, and overcrowded tenant-houses, be permitted, 
the whole area of the town will be but a plague- 
spot to the infection of which every inhabitant 
will be fatally exposed. If, rich and luxurious, 
he builds a palace in the Fifth Avenue, all the 
perfume of gentility and the exclusiveness of fash- 
ion will not save him from the poison of the foul 
breath engendered in the crowded pens and reek- 
ing gutters of the slums of the city. 
In the large town there is little opportunity for 
the gratification of a taste for natural beauty. 
As for prospect, what more can be said for the 
best situated city houses than that "they com- 
mand an uninterrupted view of-of over the way, 
and they are within one minute's walk of-of the 
corner of the street?" Dick Swiveller, with all 
his flourish of rhetoric, could not heighten the 
description. 
The recognized evils of the ever-increasing largo 
town are only to be mitigated by diffusing as 
much as possible the inhabitants, and at the same 
time perfecting the hygienic conditions of their 
daily life. The railroads are doing something 
toward withdrawing the surplus population from 
the festering centres, but the only effectual reli- 
ance is upon a large expansion of the area of the 
populous city by a system of suburban residences, 78 
UNHEALTHY CROWDING OF TOWNS. 
not for the few rich, but the many poor. The 
price of the land, swollen by speculation to an ex- 
orbitant degree, is unfortunately a practical diffi- 
culty for the present. This may not, however, 
continue to be in the future, with a juster appre- 
ciation of the rights of the people at large to the 
enjoyment of the benefits of a value the increase 
of which is essentially due to their progress as a 
community, and not to the few separate individ- 
uals who are sanguine enough to anticipate and 
have the means to take advantage of it. In the 
mean time, much can be done to prevent the un- 
healthy crowding of a city by excluding from 
its limits all public institutions, the interests of 
which can be as well or better served without 
than within. Hospitals for chronic diseases of 
all kinds, boarding-schools, asylums for the blind, 
the deaf and dumb, orphans, widows, and all in- 
capables, should, not only for the sake of their 
own but of the good of the community at large, 
be thrust far beyond the boundaries of all popu- 
lous towns. 
While such institutions are allowed to exist in 
crowded towns, it will be prudent on the part of 
any inhabitant who has the choice of the situa- 
tion of his dwelling, to select one as remote as 
possible from them. All large structures arc BAD NEIGHBORS. 
79 
bad neighbors, and especially churches, since, 
with their high walls and tall steeples, they shut 
out the beneficent light, prevent a free circula- 
tion of air, and throw a perpetual gloom most 
disheartening to the spirits of those who live 
constantly within their shadow. Such nuisan- 
ces as gas manufactories, soap-boiling establish- 
ments, slaughter-houses, and church-yards, must 
be shunned as so many breeders of pestilence. 
Even the city grocer's shop, butcher's stall, liv- 
ery or private stable, are unsafe neighbors, to 
which every citizen, in selecting a home, should 
give as wide a berth as practicable. Streets 
which terminate in a blind alley, or cul-de-sac, 
are never wholesome situations for a dwelling. 
The wider the avenue, the more open the posi- 
tion ; and the less thronged the quarters, the bet- 
ter for health's sake. 
Where the crowded city admits of a free 
space in front or behind the house, it is desira- 
ble to have it, since it secures a proper circula- 
tion abtout the structure. It is not well, how- 
ever, to attempt to turn these small inclosures 
into miniature fields or gardens. They are bet- 
ter paved with flags or tiles; and if flowers and 
shrubs are desired, they can be kept in pots and 
boxes. Grass and exposed earth, large shrubs 80 
YIELDING TO FASHION. 
and trees, however pleasing they may be to the 
senses, can only be so in summer, and at all sea- 
sons they are reservoirs of moisture and stiflers 
of air, from which the best constructed houses 
may suffer. It is evident that all the inhabit- 
ants of a city can not have a free choice in re- 
gard to the situation of their houses, but most, 
without doubt, could have control, more or less, 
of the internal economy of them. This, how- 
ever, they generally, with submissive folly, yield 
up to fashion. Thus they shut up the best 
rooms in their houses, and keep the worst for 
daily use. In appropriating the various apart- 
ments to their several services, they should be 
guided by those laws of health and comfort laid 
down in the course of this book. Let them not, 
for example, deprive themselves of the little sun- 
light vouchsafed to city prisoners, because its 
scant rays shine only upon the front rooms which 
Fashion in one of her caprices has closed, with 
her seal affixed, and refuses to open except on 
the rare occasion of her formal visits. INFLUENCE OF THE DWELLING. 
81 
CHAPTER VII. 
Influence of the Dwelling upon the moral and physical 
Well-being.-An humble Cause of princely Suffering.- 
Children most affected by the Influences of Dwelling.- 
The Nursery.-Ventilation of Nursery.-Windows.- 
Rapid Circulation of Blood.-Rapid Diffusion of poison- 
ous Air.-Position of Nursery.-Effect of Light upon the 
animal Spirits of Children.-Free Admission of solar Light 
necessary.-Furniture.-Floor and Walls.-The Necessity 
of Warmth.-The proper Mode of heating.-Ornamenta- 
tion of Nursery.-Liveliness necessary.-Influence of Pic- 
tures.-The Box or Basket of Toys.-Toys as Teachers. 
-Kind of Toys required.-Grave Saws and sour Texts.- 
Children, how far Self-destructive.-Noise essential. 
The influence of the dwelling upon the moral 
and physical well-being of man is admitted to 
be very great. Derangement of health, both of 
body and mind, perversion of sentiment, corrupt 
habits, and vicious conduct, disease, and even 
death, can be directly traced to the structure, 
position, and circumstances of the human habi- 
tation. The more or less thickness of a wall or 
the kind of material of which it may be built, 
the superficies of a window, the height or width 
of a door, the calibre of a chimney, or the course 82 
THE NURSERY. 
of a waste-pipe, is often a controlling agent in 
settling the fate of man. The destiny even of 
the great, with all the protection of state offi- 
ciousness and power, is made, at times, to sub- 
mit in humiliating subjection. We have seen 
the heir to a throne* prostrate for months on 
the edge of the chasm of death, and a whole 
people in an agony of anxiety, with no nobler 
cause for princely suffering and danger and na- 
tional trouble than the blunder of a joiner or the 
carelessness of a plumber's man. 
It is more particularly the young who are af- 
fected by the influences of their habitual dwell- 
ing. The advanced in life are not only less sus- 
ceptible, from the tougher structure and the di- 
minished sensibility of maturity, but are not so 
constantly exposed, since they can withdraw them- 
selves at their will, or by their daily pursuits are 
withdrawn from the habitation, while children, 
and especially infants, are necessarily more con- 
fined to it. 
There is no part of the house, consequently, 
which demands such scrupulous regard, as to its 
appropriateness for living, as the nursery. This 
* The Prince of Wales, who was attacked with typhus fe- 
ver, in consequence of his exposure to the poisonous emana- 
tions from an ill-arranged drain. SPACE OF NURSERY. 
83 
term we use in the ordinary sense of an apart- 
ment for young children. It is made occasional- 
ly a sleeping-place, though this we think objec- 
tionable, and prefer to restrict it entirely to its 
other obvious uses. The bedroom for children, 
as for grown-up people, has peculiar requirements 
which more or less interfere with those of apart- 
ments adapted for other purposes, and, when pos- 
sible, it is better to keep it separate. Regarding 
it, then, as the daily habitation of infants and 
young children, the nursery should conform in all 
respects to the acknowledged laws which govern 
the health of infancy and childhood. 
The room, in the first place, should be suffi- 
ciently large to admit of the freest movement of 
the young, for it is essential to the'mobile child 
that it should have opportunity of full play for 
all its limbs and muscles. Large extent of space, 
moreover, is necessary to the free circulation of 
air, for the renewal and abundant supply of which 
there should be adopted the best possible means. 
These should be permanent, and more or less in- 
dependent of the occupants of the apartment, 
and especially of ignorant or thoughtless nurses. 
While a goodly number of windows is desirable, 
reliance should not be made upon these only for 
ventilation, though quite adequate for the pur- 84 
VENTILATION OF NURSERY. 
pose, if discreetly used. In severe weather peo- 
ple are so apt to consider what may conduce to 
their temporary comfort and convenience in pref- 
erence to that which is advantageous to their 
health, that they will, in order to avoid a puff of 
wind or a sprinkle of rain, deprive themselves of 
the pure breath of life. By means of movable 
ventilators fixed in the upper part of the room, or 
one of the higher panes of glass, there may be 
obtained a free supply of fresh air, and such a 
circulation secured as will prevent all stagnation 
of the atmosphere or retention of its impurities. 
Dangerous draughts, too, will thus be avoided. 
The windows, however, whenever the weather 
permits, should be freely opened. Mothers and 
nurses should learn by heart, and give practical 
effect to the lesson taught by this homely distich: 
" If you open the windows more, 
You will keep doctors from the door." 
It has been calculated that all the blood in the 
body of an adult person, which amounts to near- 
ly three gallons, passes through the lungs in the 
short period of two minutes and a half. It is by 
this rapid movement that it is acted upon con- 
stantly by the air which is breathed, and adapted 
to the purposes of the human economy. The YOUNG LUNGS. 
85 
blood thus running through the lungs, continues 
a course of equal speed throughout the whole 
frame, from the centre to the farthest extremity, 
from the heart to the tips of the toes and fingers. 
There is not the most minute and remote part of 
the animal structure which is not traversed by 
this rapid and perpetual current. The purpose 
of this ever-circulating movement is to expose 
the blood to the action of the air, in order that a 
change may be effected in it which is essential 
to health and life. This process can neither be 
performed, nor its ends attained in perfection, 
without a constant and abundant supply of pure 
air. The blood, however, will continue to cir- 
culate for a long time even when the lungs are 
breathing in a foul atmosphere. The activity of 
its movement, moreover, may not diminish, and 
thus the blood, polluted through breathing a nox- 
ious vapor, can diffuse throughout the whole hu- 
man system, far and near, the poison it contains, 
in the short period of two minutes and a half ! 
The lungs of children act, and their blood circu- 
lates with still greater rapidity, than those of 
grown-up people. No more need be said to im- 
press upon the least judicious the necessity of 
having not only pure air, but an unremitting 
supply of it, in the nursery. 86 
SUNNY NUBSEBIES. 
The position of the nursery should be such as 
to give it as much of the sun's light as possible. 
The solar rays are not only essential to health 
and life, but a source of cheerfulness apprecia- 
ted by none so much as the young child. A 
glimpse of the early sun will brighten his face at 
once with delight, and, turning a rising frown of 
discontent into a smiling ripple of satisfaction, 
often allay his peevishness when he is most irri- 
table. 
The nursery, then, must 'by all means be as 
sunny as possible. All basement and under- 
ground rooms are consequently quite unfit for 
the habitation of the young, and the old too, in 
fact, and should never be used for the purpose. 
The nursery windows should be numerous, and 
kept free from heavy curtains, blinds, and all ob- 
structions to the entrance of the sun's light. 
The furniture should be as scanty as conven- 
ience will allow, and all sharp edges and pro- 
jecting points studiously kept out of reach of 
youthful heads and limbs, so provocative of cuts, 
bumps, and bruises. The floor must have no 
carpets, which, with their flossy structure, are 
absorbent and retentive of impurities, and on 
the least agitation give rise to clouds of dust 
and floating flocks of wool, very irritating and TEMPERATURE OF NURSERY. 
87 
injurious to the delicate lungs of children. The 
best for cleanliness and health is a floor painted 
or coated with boiled linseed-oil, from which any 
dirt or impurity of whatever kind can be instant- 
ly removed, and all moisture soon dried up. 
Hugs, which can be readily moved and shaken 
free from dirt and dust, may be used when, in 
cold weather, additional warmth is required. 
Painted or colored walls are preferable to pa- 
pered ones, for their surface can be constantly 
cleansed and renewed as may be necessary in 
case of contagion or other requirement. 
Infants and very young children, whose bodily 
heat is of a temperature several degrees lower 
than that of the adult, require more artificial 
warmth. Their natural activity is, however, so 
great, that whenever not at rest, which they sel- 
dom are, the quickened action of the lungs and 
movement of the limbs of the young compensate 
somewhat for the lower temperature of their bod- 
ies. The nursery will hardly require, then, to be 
more warmed than the rest of the house, through 
which there should be diffused a general heat in 
winter, by means of the furnace, not lower than 
60° or higher than 65° of Fahrenheit. The open 
fire-place, which is regarded by many as so good 
a ventilator, may be useful for this purpose, and 88 
DECORATION OF NURSERY. 
as a ready source of additional heat when re- 
quired on special occasions-while, for example, 
washing an infant, or bathing in a case of illness. 
With its interrupted supplies of heat, the open 
fire of coal or wood can never be relied upon for 
comfort as a substitute for the uniform warmth 
of the furnace, while its constant consumption 
of the oxygen of the air and its own emanations 
of noxious gas, dust, and smoke, render it less 
healthful. 
While a certain simplicity should characterize 
the nursery, it should by no means be entirely 
bare of ornament. The color of the painted walls 
should be of a warm tone. A subdued pink or 
lively salmon is a good tint, and variety might be 
given to the broad surfaces by the addition of a 
few lines or simple figures of frescoing. Pictures 
should never be absent from the child's apart- 
ment ; they are not only essential means for edu- 
cating the young, but serve as daily refreshers of 
the youthful spirits; and the joyousness of the 
whole life is greatly dependent upon the vivacity 
of childhood. Colored pictures, of a striking, 
objective character, large and distinct representa- 
tions of animals-dogs, horses, and elephants- 
cheerful scenes of the fields and farm-yard, and 
groups of ruddy boys and girls playing and mor- TOYS. 
89 
ry-making, should be so hung on all sides as to 
attract the sight and animate the spirits of the 
little inhabitants of the nursery. 
The box or basket filled with toys is an indis- 
pensable requisite of all places where children 
may be confined for however short a time, and 
especially of the nursery, in which they spend so 
great a part of their early lives. The toy given 
to the child has not only the effect of a bone 
thrown to a growling cur-that of quieting him, 
though its power in this respect is very effective 
and beneficial. Playthings are the first and most 
impressive teachers of childhood. They direct 
themselves to its natural instincts and its earliest 
developments with an inherent fitness that no di- 
dactic teaching, guided by the most subtle tact, 
can equal. They invite the touch, they attract 
the eye, they enforce movement, they awaken ob- 
servation, they excite curiosity, and teach just 
what the child wants and is adapted to learn- 
form color, substance, and the simple relations 
of material things to each other and themselves. 
Parents, moreover, need not exercise their inge- 
nuity or strain their generosity in supplying their 
children with what they require. The costly and 
artful toy gives neither the enjoyment nor the 
benefit of simple and inexpensive things. An 90 
GRAVE SAWS AND SOUR TEXTS. 
infant will rejoice more over a picked bone than 
the coral-tipped bauble of silver or gold, and few 
children would leave the mud pies of their own 
making for the most choice and cunning bijou 
of Paris workmanship. The ball of india-rubber, 
the wooden block, and the rudest imitations of in- 
struments of daily use-the spade, the w heelbar- 
row, and cart, and rough figures of familiar ani- 
mals-the horse, the ox, the dog, and the cat, are 
sufficient to content the heart and occupy the at- 
tention of the most covetous and vivacious child 
of either sex, provided the indispensable doll is 
added for the special behoof of the girl. The 
nursery should never be without such or such- 
like objects within easy reach and constant serv- 
ice of its youthful occupants, and which, more- 
over, ought to be of a kind that are neither too 
delicate nor too costly for the rough treatment 
they are sure to meet with from the merciless 
little ones. 
We are no great believers in the benefits of 
didactic teaching of morals and religion to the 
very young, and we doubt the efficacy of forcing 
into their memory grave saws and sour texts; 
but it may not be amiss to keep before their eyes 
a few sacred injunctions and well-accepted say- 
ings, as " Honor thy father and thy mother," and CHILDREN NOT SELF-DESTRUCTIVE. 
91 
" Cleanliness is next to godliness," etc., which, 
however, should be cheerfully printed in illumi- 
nated letters, and distributed tastefully about the 
room. 
Children are not generally so inclined to self- 
destruction as the fears of their anxious parents 
lead them to believe. They have, ordinarily, at 
a very early age the instinct of life sufficiently 
strong to impress them with a sense of the ne- 
cessity of taking a good deal of care of themselves. 
The liveliest baby is not always seeking to elude 
the mother's grasp and dash its brains out on 
the hard floor, the most agile harlequin of a boy 
is not constantly on the look-out for the oppor- 
tunity of leaping through the third-story window 
and impaling himself upon the pikes of the iron 
railing below, and the most inflammably tempered 
girl not always ready for martyrizing herself by 
the side of the back-log. Accidents, however, 
will happen; so it may be well to put nurse on 
her guard, to secure the windows with a triple 
row of iron or strong wooden bars, and to fence 
in the fire-place with a substantial fender. 
As children are not only by nature noisy, but 
as it is essential to their health and full devel- 
opment of their strength to cry, to bawl, and to 
romp, they should be allowed to use their lungs, 92 
NOISE A PRIVILEGE OF CHILDREN. 
voices, and limbs to the fullest possible extent. 
All crabbed bachelors, therefore, and irritable old 
maids and others likely to interfere with these 
special privileges of infancy and childhood, should 
have their apartments as remote as possible from 
the nursery. SLEEfFCLNESS OF INFANCY. 
93 
CHAPTER VIII. 
The Necessity of Abundance of Sleep for Children.-The 
Sleepfulness of Infancy.-Should be encouraged.-Sleep in 
Relation to the Conditions of Life.-Purity of Air required 
by sleeping Children.-The Ventilation of Child's Bed- 
room.-Light.-Windows.-Warmth.-Position of Child's 
Bedroom.-Maternal Fondness and Pride, as Disturbers 
of Sleep.-Sleep after Feeding.-The Quantity of Sleep re- 
quired by Children of different Ages.-Causes of Sleepless- 
ness.-Cradles and Rocking-chairs.-Opiates.-Cheerful- 
ness on going to Bed.-How Sydney Smith cured the 
Sleeplessness of a Child.-Darkness and Spirits.-The Bed. 
-Bedding and Bed-clothes.-Position in Bed.-Cleanli- 
ness of Nursery.-Treatment of empty Bed. 
The larger portion of infant existence is passed 
in sleep, a great abundance of which is absolutely 
necessary to the proper development of the child 
in all the early stages of its life. The newly-born 
babe, if in a healthy condition, only awakes to 
feed, and then but partially so, for it takes its 
nutriment with half-closed eyes and intermittent 
slumber, and, when sated, drops from the breast 
and falls fast asleep into the arms of its mother. 
There is hardly a single hour out of the -whole 
twenty-four that an infant may be said to be 94 
REQUIREMENTS OF SLEEPING INFANCY. 
wide-awake. This lengthened slumber being a 
natural want, and an essential condition of the 
vigorous growth and sound health of the young, 
must be encouraged by all the means known to 
be conducive to wholesome repose. 
It should never be forgotten that sleep does 
not withdraw the human being from subjugation 
to any of the laws which govern health and life 
during wakefulness. Awake or asleep, he is al- 
ways the same thinking, feeling, breathing, di- 
gesting, and moving animal, and requires for the 
proper action of these various processes of life 
similar conditions of relation to the external world. 
The brain thinks, and all the senses receive im- 
pressions during sleep; for even the closed eye 
will open to a sudden glare of light, the lungs re- 
spire with undiminished force, the organs of di- 
gestion stop not in their work, and the muscles 
continue to act. 
Purity of air is just as essential to the healthy 
respiration of the sleeping as of the wakeful per- 
son, and the requirements of the dormant infant 
are greater in the proportion of its more abun- 
dant slumber. The bed-chambers, therefore, es- 
pecially of the very young, should be of a kind to 
secure a plentiful supply of fresh air. They must 
be spacious in every direction, of lofty ceilings, BURYING ALIVE. 
95 
and good length and breadth. Many parents and 
nurses seem to regard sleep so much akin to death 
as to think that the narrow dimensions of the 
grave of the one are suitable proportions for the 
abode of the other. Thus the sleeping infant, sti- 
fled with wrappings of divers sorts, is often de- 
posited in dark, contracted inclosures, into which 
no more light or air enters than into a sealed 
tomb. All those blind corners, shallow niches, 
and recesses euphoniously termed alcoves, venti- 
lated perchance, if ventilated at all, through a 
key-hole, if luckily the key should be out, and 
perhaps just illumined enough to make the dark- 
ness visible by means of an opportune crack in 
the door, can only be regarded as so many dread- 
ful burial-places, to which the fact that they are 
often burial-places of the living, lends an addi- 
tional horror. Any child set to sleep in any such 
narrow quarters, closed to the air and light, may 
be said, without exaggeration, to be entombed 
alive. 
The bed-chamber, especially of the young, 
should be brightly illuminated with the sun's 
rays, and thoroughly ventilated by means of a 
free communication with the external atmosphere. 
No room without windows is a fit resting-place 
for a sleeping child, and these need never be 96 
AIR AND TEMPERATURE. 
wholly closed when there is a proper provision, 
as there should be, for warming in winter the 
bed-chamber in common with the rest of the 
house. The temperature should never be less 
than 60° Fahrenheit; any excess beyond this may 
be easily checked by means of the windows, the 
free opening of which, at all seasons, may be 
regarded as not only safe but beneficial, when 
draughts are avoided, as they can easily be by 
keeping the doors shut if the windows are open, 
or vicb versa. 
The sleep required by a very young infant is 
almost of an indefinitely large quantity, and its 
instinctive disposition to indulge in it should 
never be interfered with, but, on the contrary, 
greatly encouraged. By having the bedroom at 
a sufficient distance from the nursery, which, with 
a fair average number of vivacious little occu- 
pants, can not, and ought not, to be the special 
domain of silence, the necessary quiet for sleep 
may generally be secured. A child should never, 
if possible, be aroused from its natural slumber. 
Tender mothers should check a fondness which 
prompts them to such kisses and caresses as are 
likely to disturb their infant's repose. Maternal 
pride, too, which often impels to an exhibition of 
infantile beauty and grace at all times to every QUANTITY OF SLEEP. 
97 
admiring visitor, should forego its indulgence 
whenever baby is asleep. It should be recollect- 
ed that the infant, while slumbering, is undergo- 
ing a process of too serious moment to its health 
and future development to be interrupted for the 
sake of a tickle to a mother's vanity from such 
light straws as the compliments of this or that 
male or female gossip. 
Healthy infants will and should sleep at all 
times, and a daily slumber in addition to the noc- 
turnal one is required by every child until he 
reaches at least two years of age. A babe will 
go to rest immediately after feeding, and the di- 
gestion of its simple and fluid nutriment be not 
deranged in consequence; but older children, 
when they have begun to live upon more solid 
food, should not be encouraged to sleep until an 
hour or so after their last meal. 
The necessary quantity of sleep diminishes 
with the increase of age. A young infant is sel- 
dom awake; a child of two years of age ordinari- 
ly requires two or three hours of sleep during 
the day, and twelve hours at night; and most 
children beyond this age, until they have reach- 
ed their teens, should have about ten hours of 
sound nocturnal slumber. 
Sleeplessness is always an indication of de- 98 
DISTUKBE1JS OF SLEEP. 
rangement of function or organic disease. Un- 
natural excitement often is the cause of an indis- 
position to sleep in children otherwise healthy. 
If kept up late at night, exposed to the glare and 
heat of the gas or other artificial lights, stimu- 
lated by the presence and vivacity of the socie- 
ty ordinarily gathered together at that time, and 
their curiosity aroused by the piquant topics of 
conversation, of which just enough is under-' 
stood to create a lively wonderment, young chil- 
dren, when they finally are put to bed, are apt 
to lie awake in an agitated state.' Their excited 
minds and irritated nerves keep their bodies, how- 
ever greatly fatigued, and demanding repose, in 
such restlesness that sleep is impossible. 
A healthy child requires no other inducement 
to sleep than his own natural instinct. Cradles 
and rocking-chairs are undoubtedly powerful 
means of producing slumber; so, in fact, are all 
stupefiers-chloroform, opium, carbonic and prus- 
sic acids. The motion of the cradle or rocking- 
chair owes its power of causing sleep to its pow- 
er of causing stupor, and the application of it, 
however slight, to the delicate nervous system of 
the infant, should be avoided as dangerous. No 
opiates of any kind, whether authorized by the 
formularies of the regular doctor, or smuggled A CURE FOR SLEEPLESSNESS. 
99 
into use under the disguises of the nostrum-vend- 
er, should ever be given to very young children. 
Laudanum and paregoric, soothing mixtures and 
sleeping cordials, are very dangerous remedies, 
which always injure, and often kill, when ad- 
ministered to a sleepless but not otherwise un- 
healthy child. 
Children should, if possible, never be put to 
bed except when in a cheerful mood. A fit of 
anger or a fretful moment at bed-time will often 
disturb the repose of the whole night. Sydney 
Smith had a child who was kept wakeful by a 
state of nervous irritability arising from some 
unaccountable cause. This was seriously inju- 
ring his health and destroying his happiness, as 
well as preventing sleep. His father, with char- 
acteristic quickness of perception, recognized the 
seriousness of the evil, and with his habitual 
common-sense applied the necessary remedy. 
He accompanied his child for several nights in 
succession to bed, and sat by his side, narrating 
each time some cheerful story, or giving utter- 
ance to a lively effusion of fancy or humor, 
adapted to the intelligence and sympathy of 
childhood. The treatment proved entirely suc- 
cessful, and the boy was soon restored to the 
composure at bed-time essential to soundness of 
slumber. 100 
THE CHILD'S BED. 
Most children have a horror of darkness, which 
seems almost natural to the vague imaginations 
of the young. This can not be removed by a 
forced subjection, and should never be attempt- 
ed. When it exists, the quiet presence of an 
elder person, or the small glimmer of a light 
through the partly-opened door of a contiguous 
room, will be generally sufficient to conjure away 
all imaginary terrors of childhood, and this slight 
indulgence should never be refused. We need 
hardly say that every child should be spared the 
unnecessary horrors arising from fictitious spir- 
its, "Bogie," "The old Un," and other mon- 
strosities invoked by a nurse's stupid fancy. 
The kind of bed and its arrangement are very 
important in regard to their influence upon the 
sleep of the child. The chief points to be con- 
sidered are their adaptation to the natural needs 
as to warmth, respiration, transpiration, and po- 
sition of the healthy body. The infant, for secu- 
rity, is often put to sleep in a crib, and this, if 
made with open sides, to allow of a free circula- 
tion of air, is unobjectionable. It should be en- 
tirely naked of curtains, and so constructed that 
all parts of it and its contents may be easily ac- 
cessible for airing and cleansing. The mattress 
of horse-hair is the best to lie on, for it gives all THE PILLOW. 
101 
the required warmth, while it admits of the pas- 
sage and evaporation of the natural moisture and 
vapors of the body. It is, moreover, in conse- 
quence of its porousness, easily dried, ventilated, 
and purified. Its elasticity gives it the further 
advantage of yielding easily to the pressure and 
movement of the body, while its ready return to 
its original form prevents any inequality of sur- 
face which might cramp the frame and limbs 
and tend to disturb them permanently. 
The feather-bed, which has none of these good 
qualities of the horse-hair mattress, should never 
be used, at any rate, for children to lie upon. It 
is advisable even to adopt hair instead of feath- 
ers for the pillow, as the latter is apt to be too 
heating for the head of the child, which has oft- 
en a great tendency to an excessive sweating. 
The pillow should be always of a sufficient width 
to support the shoulders as well as the head, and 
never so high as to raise the latter inordinately. 
A careful attention to the position, in this re- 
spect, of the sleeping child is of great impor- 
tance, in regard not only to his present health, 
but future grace of proportion. Any interfer- 
ence with the free respiration of the child must 
be carefully guarded against by a proper ar- 
rangement of bed, pillow, and coverings. No 102 
THE BED-CLOTHES. 
curtain should be allowed to oppose the free ac- 
cess of air, and even light, provided its rays are 
not so directed as to shine in the eyes, and dis- 
turb the repose of the sleeper. Porous materi- 
als of wool are the best for the outer coverings 
of the bed, and cotton a more healthful stuff 
than linen for the inner. No padded quilts of 
patch-work, or such like, which are as impervi- 
ous to air, and flat and cold, as a stale underdone 
pancake, should ever be spread over the sleeping 
child. There is more warmth in a light, porous 
substance than in the densest and heaviest. A 
blanket is not only more healthful, but much 
warmer, than the so-called comforter with its 
tough hide and thickly-packed entrails. 
Cleanliness, everywhere desirable, is more es- 
pecially so in the child's bedroom. No dust 
should be allowed to accumulate, which on the 
slightest agitation will float throughout the air 
and be inspired with each breath, and thus do in- 
finite mischief to the delicate lungs of the young. 
Carpets are especially objectionable, not only as 
reservoirs but as causes of dirt, for they are con- 
stantly giving off at every foot-tread or move- 
ment clouds of filth composed of flocks of wool, 
intermingled with particles of dust. The crib or 
bedstead should be made so movable that its po- CLEANLINESS. 
103 
sition may be readily changed, and all space and 
corners about it kept thoroughly clean. The 
mattress, pillow, and other appurtenances of the 
bed should be turned over, well shaken, and ex- 
posed to the sun and air on every occasion its 
temporary disuse will allow. 104 
SIR RICHARD STEELE. 
CHAPTER IX. 
Sir Richard Steele on Wet-nurses.-Suckling one's own Child. 
-Excuses of fashionable Mothers.-Matronly Beauty.- 
The Wrongs of not nursing.-The immoral Effects of 
Mothers neglecting to nurse their Children.-The Respon- 
sibility of unnatural Mothers.-Dry-nursing.-Preparation 
of the Milk.-The Deeding Instruments.-Frequency of 
Feeding.-Regularity of Meals.-Plenty of Water.-Milk 
as Food.- Weaning.- Supplementary Food.- Food for 
Children of different Ages.-Sweets.-Teething.-Its In- 
fluence.-Too much Interference. 
Steele, who with all his recklessness of life 
had ever a tender sympathy with suffering, espe- 
cially of the young, thus pleads in a number of 
the Spectator* the cause of the infant thrust from 
its mother's breast: 
"It is unmerciful to see that a woman endow- 
ed with all the perfections and blessings of nature 
can, as soon as she is delivered, turn off her inno- 
cent, tender, and helpess infant, and give it up to 
a woman that is (ten thousand to one) neither in 
health nor good condition, neither sound in mind 
nor body, that has neither honor nor reputation, 
* No. 24G. THE DUTY OF SUCKLING. 
105 
neither love nor pity for the poor babe, but more 
regard for the money than for the whole child, 
and never will take further care of it than what 
by all the encouragement of money and presents 
she is forced to; like JEsop's Earth, which would 
not nurse the plant of another ground, although 
never so much improved, by reason that plant 
was not of its own production. And since an- 
other's child is no more natural to a nurse than a 
plant to a strange and different ground, how can 
it be supposed that the child should thrive ? . . . 
" It seems to me very unnatural that a woman 
that has fed a child as part of herself for nine 
months should have no desire to nurse it farther 
when brought to light and before her eyes, and 
when by its cry it implores her assistance and the 
office of a mother. Do not the very cruellest of 
brutes tend their young ones with all the care 
and delight imaginable? For how can she be 
called a mother that will not nurse her young 
ones? The earth is called the mother of all 
things, not because she produces, but because she 
maintains and nurses what she produces." 
Every woman that can, should suckle her own 
child, and the number of those really unable to 
do so is but a small proportion of the many who 
pretend to be. No plea of a weakness, that ex- 106 
FASHIONABLE EXCUSES. 
ists not in the present but only feared in the fu- 
ture, by the nervous woman over-sensitive in re- 
gard to her strength, can be received in justifica- 
tion of the shirking of the first duty of a mother. 
We need only mention to repel with horror those 
heartless excuses urged by the frivolous woman 
of fashion for the abandonment of her offspring. 
The claims of society-that loose compound of 
gas-like particles, generated by the heat of arti- 
ficial excitement, and held together only by the 
attraction of vanity - what are these, that the 
natural tie,* the strongest of all ties, of mother 
to child, should be ruptured in order to yield 
to them ? Grace and beauty, moreover, protest 
against the sacrifice of their charms to the 
homely exigencies of nursing I The charms of 
the grace and beauty acknowledged by fashion, 
what are they? A tenuity of form and small- 
ness of waist to which maternity seems impossi- 
ble, and by which its duties arc made impractica- 
ble ! Aesthetics accept no such grace and beau- 
ty, and recognize their elements only in the nat- 
ural subordination of means to purpose. A moth- 
er, to be graceful and beautiful, must harmonize 
in form and organization with her functions, have 
* Even the cruel Lady Macbeth says: " I have given suck; 
and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me." WRONGS OF WET-NURSING. 
107 
abundance of vitality to accord with the demands 
upon her life-giving power, a substantial fullness 
of body to correspond with her quality as a 
source of nutriment to others. Matronly form, 
in all its well-defined exuberance of development, 
has peculiar charms as acceptable to taste as the 
more slender and vaguer graces of the young and 
unmarried woman. 
A double wrong is ordinarily the consequence 
of a mother delegating to another her proper 
duty of nursing her own child. She, in tearing 
her infant from her breast, compels the nurse to 
the same cruel and unnatural act, and thus two 
innocent beings are made to suffer for what is 
only fashionable caprice in one woman, and per- 
haps love of money in the other. Adversity, 
however, may excuse the conduct of the poor 
mjrse, but prosperity, which prompts the action, 
only augments the criminality of the rich mother.* 
* Of 53,000 infants born in Paris in 1868, 25,000 were 
put out to nurse; 51 of 100 of these died!-Bulletin de 
V Academic de Medicine. 
Of 300 children born in Paris from the 1st of June, 1867, 
to the 1st of June, 1868, 235 were nursed at the breast, and 
64 by artificial means; 25 only of the former died, 11 per 
cent., and 33 of the latter, 51 per cent. During the same 
period (June 1, 1867, to June 1, 1868), of 235 infants brought 
up at the breast, 181 were nursed by their own mothers; of 108 
FATALITY OF WET-NURSING. 
It is impossible to reconcile even with the low- 
est view of moral obligation a practice which of- 
fers a direct premium to vice, as does the fashion 
of wealthy women seeking for substitutes for the 
performance of maternal duty. Any cursory 
reader of the daily papers may read in prominent 
letters these words: "Wanted a wet-nurse. A 
single woman preferred." The unblushing ef- 
frontery of such announcements seem less start- 
ling when we find in the published works of an 
eminent English physician this emphatic decla- 
ration : " No; the best wet-nurse, if such an one 
can be obtained, is a young and healthy, tidy and 
clean servant-one who has, under the promise 
of marriage, been seduced by her lover." 
A fearful mortality is known to prevail among 
those infants abandoned by their mothers for the 
purpose of becoming wet-nurses of the offspring 
of more prosperous women. For this massacre 
of innocents the female Herods of fashion are re- 
sponsible. 
The mother of opulence and luxury thinks, 
doubtless, that her responsibility ends with the 
payment of the full month's wages, and an abun- 
these 15 only died, 8 per cent. Of the 54 nursed by other 
women than their mothers, but at the breast, 10 died, or 18 
per cent.! WHO IS THE CRIMINAL? 
109 
dant supply of vicarious infantile nourishment 
in the shape of beef and pudding to the nurse. 
She never gives a thought to the little one who 
has been wrenched from its natural source of 
life, to make way for the nursling of wealth, that 
it may fatten upon the other's rightful substance. 
She may perchance get a sight-but such sights 
are rare-of the nurse's child, when she will not 
fail to notice the contrast between its shrinking 
meagreness and the roundness of her own fortu- 
nate infant, expanding with its stolen nutriment. 
Neglect and want of proper food soon produce 
their natural effect, and the nurse's child, daily 
wasting away, finally dies, while the infant who 
has despoiled it of its rights strengthens con- 
stantly, and lives. Here is evidently a case of 
murder. Who is the criminal? We do not 
hesitate to mark the woman of fashion as the 
guilty person. She deliberately, by her habits 
of life, has either unfitted herself for her mater- 
nal duties or become averse to them. Conscious 
that she can bribe by her riches the mother of 
the poor to neglect her own offspring for the 
care of hers, she does not hesitate to assume ma- 
ternal obligations, for the performance of the 
most wearying of which a substitute can be so 
readily hired. The consequence is, almost inevi- 110 
SUBSTITUTE FOR MOTHER'S MILK. 
tably, the death of the child which is deprived of 
its natural support. To call an act of this kind, 
which is constantly and deliberately repeated, a 
social evil, is being too mealy-mouthed. It is 
murder. 
Though it rarely happens that a woman who 
has given birth to a child is incapacitated by 
natural causes from nursing it, there are, un- 
doubtedly, some instances. These, however, are 
not so numerous but that they could easily be 
provided for by the, at least, equally abundant 
cases of poor women who have lost their own 
infants, and can nurse those of others without 
the infliction of wrong upon any one. 
A wet-nurse, whatever may be the incapacity of 
a mother to suckle her child, is not an indispen- 
sable requirement. It may even be questioned 
whether, with the risks as to health, habits, and 
character of a strange woman, it is not better to 
avoid them, by bringing up by the hand, as it is 
called, the infant deprived, in whatever way, of 
the source of its natural nutriment. This proc- 
ess, if carefully conducted, will prove equal to 
the satisfaction of the full wants of infancy, and 
all its demands for healthful development. 
The best substitute for mother's milk is that 
of the cow; but this, in order to adapt it for PROCESS OF DRY-NURSING. 
111 
nutriment of the infant, should be made to cor- 
respond as nearly as possible, in chemical com- 
position, with the maternal food of which it has 
been deprived. This is simply done by diluting 
the cow's milk with an equal part of water, and 
adding a little salt and sugar. If practicable, a 
cow should be kept for the especial purpose of 
supplying the infant's wants, for upon the ani- 
mal's food and management greatly depends the 
healthfulness of its milk. Under any circum- 
stances care should be taken that the milk is al- 
ways obtained from the same cow, for, after the 
child's digestion has once accommodated itself 
to the milk of one, that of another is very apt to 
disorder it. 
The utmost care must be taken to keep the 
instruments, or any vessels by which the infant 
may be fed, perfectly clean. The least remnant 
of milk left, after use, will soon undergo fermen- 
tation, a process which diffuses with insidious 
speed its corrupting power throughout all with- 
in its reach. It is not enough to trust to the 
acuteness of the senses for its detection. There 
may be no smell or taste of sourness, and yet 
fermentation may be in full force. The most 
thorough rinsing with hot water, and subsequent 
drying and purification by exposure to the sun's 112 
TIMES FOR FOOD. 
light, after each service, are absolutely essential 
to keep in a wholesome state the instruments 
through which the young infant receives its 
milk. There should be always at least two 
sucking-bottles, so that while one is in use the 
other may be undergoing the thorough process 
of cleansing it requires. 
The infant digests quickly, and should in con- 
sequence be frequently fed.* It is well, howev- 
er, to establish, as soon as possible, a certain reg- 
ularity in the periods of supplying food to chil- 
dren, whatever may be their age. The young, 
though they should be made to depend mainly 
upon set meals for their sustenance, should nev- 
* Of fifty competitors for a prize offered by a society in 
France for the best treatise on the subject: "The Influence 
of Nursing upon the Mother and Society," " a third, at least," 
says Dr. Siry, "held the view that infants should not be suck- 
led oftener than every four hours during the day, and not at 
all during the night. I reject," he adds, "with all my might 
a doctrine which could reduce the maximum of the number- 
of an infant's meals to four in twenty-four hours, and most 
mothers would resist any attempt to make them adopt any 
such limit. In the first few weeks after birth many nurses 
offer the breast to the child every hour, and an immense ma- 
jority never allow more than two hours to elapse between 
two periods of giving suck. This is the interval admitted 
by a number of celebrated practitioners, and I agree with 
them." TIME FOR WEANING. 
113 
or be refused, when evidently craving for some- 
thing to eat, a morsel of bread, good ripe fruit, 
or some other simple article of diet. The freest 
supply, moreover, of good water ought always to 
be at the ready service of every thirsty child, and 
the youngest infant may ordinarily drink it with- 
out danger. 
Milk should be the exclusive food of an infant 
until it has reached at least the age of twelve 
months. After this period, until the child is 
three years old, it ought to continue to be the 
staple of his sustenance, and until he reaches the 
adult period of life, it might constitute, with ad- 
vantage, one of the principal articles of his daily 
food. The severing of an infant from the breast 
of its mother is ordinarily premature in the 
United States. A period of fifteen months, or 
even more, where there are no special reasons 
for shortening the time, is not too long for nurs- 
ing. After the first year, supplementary food, 
consisting of well-baked bread and cow's milk, 
may be added to the maternal supply of nutri- 
ment. At the end of two years, the child may 
begin to partake freely of well-cooked vegeta- 
bles, and eat small quantities of animal food. 
When he is past the age of four he can safely 
take his place at the table of a well-regulated 114 
EFFECT OF SWEETS. 
and simple household. The ordinary variety of 
meats, fish, and vegetables is as wholesome for 
the young as the advanced in years, a watchful 
eye always being kept upon the child lest his 
greediness should overpower his stomach. All 
pampering of the appetite with delicacies and 
cloying sweets is of course strictly forbidden. 
The child, however, ought not to be refused an 
occasional share of the luxuries of the table. 
Ilis love for whatever is sweet seems almost in- 
stinctive, and sugar being highly nutritious, is 
probably, in moderate quantities, beneficial. The 
bit of pudding, a spoonful of ice-cream, and a 
plain cake or so, which appeals with such irre- 
sistible force to the youthful palate, will seldom 
do harm, and as they add an unmistakable fla- 
vor to the essentially animal life of childhood, 
are no doubt of some advantage in its economy. 
The rule, however, should be, to exercise the ap- 
petite in its vigor, first, upon substantial food, 
for sweets, though possibly fulfilling a subordi- 
nate part, can never perform the main purpose 
of healthful nutriment. To sate, therefore, the 
hunger of a child, ready and able to devour a 
meal of solid food, with candies, cakes, or any 
other unsubstantial delicacies, is to waste a pow- 
er, the full and proper exercise of which is es- 
sential to health. TEETHING AND HEALTH. 
115 
There is a great deal of exaggeration preva- 
lent in regard to the influence of teething upon 
the child's health. The growth of a tooth is a 
natural process, and though often simultaneous 
with disease, is not by any means as frequently 
the' cause of it ?as is' supposed. At a certain pe- 
riod of infancy, all ailments are apt to be re- 
ferred to the coming teeth, and this leads often 
to an improper interference with their develop- 
ment. In a healthy child there should be no 
cutting of the gum, and we doubt the efficacy.of 
the operation in most of the cases of sickness in 
which'it is performed. The nimia diligentia- 
the too great diligence, in interfering with chil- 
dren's health and development, is also -shown* in 
the haste with which the first or deciduous teeth 
are plucked out by impatient parents, in order 
to make way for the second or permanent ones. 
Nature rejects, by a process of her own, the first 
teeth of the young as soon as she is prepared 
to supply the second. The roots of the former 
being absorbed, they drop away to. give place 
to-their successors; and if this process is antici- 
pated by hasty plucking of the old teeth, the new 
ones are thrust forward into the jaw before it 
has been sufficiently enlarged to receive them. 
Crowding follows, and irregular sets of perma- 
nent teeth are the inevitable consequence. 116 
FASHION OF DRESS. 
CIIAPTER X. 
Fashion of Dress versus the Comfort and Health of Chil- 
. dren.-The Science of Clothing.-Dr. Franklin's Experi- 
ment.-Loose and Tight Dress.-Flannel and Woolen 
Garments.-Child Hardening.-Delicacy of the Skin.- 
Indoor and outdoor Clothing.-Freedom of Movement es- 
sential.-Expansion of the Form of the Infant.-A Ger- 
. man Custom.-The Diaper.-Naked Infancy contrasted 
. with the Manikins of Fashion.-Cruelty of Fashion.-An 
unrestraining Dress essential to Vigor and Grace. - The 
daily Bath.-Precautions to be taken. 
• . J. . . 1 
- While the dress of the young is fashioned so 
much, as it generally is, in reference to its ef- 
fect on the eye of the observer, and so little as 
to its influence upon the comfort and health of 
the wearer, it will remain singularly ill-adapted 
to what should be its proper purpose. Science 
has imposed a few simple laws in regard to cloth- 
ing which it is not safe to disobey. These are 
easily intelligible, and can be readily applied, and 
it behooves those who have the care of a child 
to understand and apply them. 
The popular notion that the body receives 
warmth from the covering, whatsoever it may THE SCIENCE OF DItESS. 
117 
be that is upon it, is, scientifically considered, an 
error. The heat of the body is of our own mak- 
ing, and is the result of the combustion constant- 
ly going on in us and every living animal. The 
only purpose of dress, apart from satisfying the 
demands of decency and taste, is to facilitate or 
prevent the escape of the natural warmth of the 
body. In hot weather, accordingly, much is to 
be got rid of, and in cold, on the contrary, retain- 
ed. The former can be done by covering the 
body lightly with such materials as favor, and 
the latter by clothing it heavily with such tex- 
tures as oppose, the passage of heat. The dress 
of summer, then, must be of thin, closely woven 
stuff, ordinarily of white color, and made of cot- 
ton or linen; that of winter, of a thick, loose fab- 
ric, generally black or dark-colored, and composed 
of silk and wool. The summer clothing will thus 
consist of what chemistry terms good conductors, 
which conduct away or carry off rapidly the heat, 
and the winter clothing of bad conductors,-which 
do not do so. 
Dr. Franklin spread several pieces of cloth of 
different colors upon the snow, exposed to the 
rays of the sun, and found that it melted most 
rapidly beneath the black, and the least so below 
the white; while that under the others melted 118 
THE BEST CLOTHING. 
with more or less speed in proportion as. they 
approached in tint, the two extremes. lie infer- 
red, therefore, that black and dark absorbed heat 
more rapidly, than white and light colors. It is 
obvious, then, that if the wearer is exposed to the 
rays of the sun, he will feel hotter in a black than 
a white dress, if its texture be the same. lie 
will do well, therefore, to be guided by this ex- 
perience, and adapt the color as well as the stuff 
of his garments to the variations of climate and 
season. ' ■ ■ . ■ 
The air is one of the worst of what chemistry 
terms bad conductors, and consequently,-a dress 
of loose texture and make, which incloses a great 
deal of it in its abundant interstices and various 
folds, must be warmer than a--closely-woven-and 
tight-fitting. garment, which can hold but little. 
The loose dress, moreover, is warmer, since it ad- 
mits of a free circulation, while the tight one 
impedes it by constricting the vessels, and thus 
hindering,the ready flow of blood, upon which, 
greatly depends the due heating of the body. 
With a knowledge of these simple principles 
of the science of dress, and a willingness to act 
in accordance with them, the child can and will 
be clothed in a manner the most suitable to its 
health and comfort. Woolen stuffs, and especial- CHILD HARDENING. 
119 
ly flannel, have the combination of qualities best 
adapted for the protection of the young from the 
effects of cold. They are of that loose texture 
favorable to the retention by the body of its heat, 
and, moreover, possess the essential property of 
being readily cleansed by washing. Furred skins 
are warmer, but less suitable for bodily wear in 
consequence of their ready attraction and strong 
hold of dust and filth of all kinds. 
The fashionable style of children's costume is 
often directly opposed to all the scientific require- 
ments for comfort and health. Much of it seems 
to have been devised in accordance with a com- 
mon notion that children can be hardened, as it is 
called, or rendered insensible by exposure, to the 
effects of temperature. This is a dangerous er- 
ror. They who hold to it will point triumphant- 
ly, in proof of their opinion, to those ragged off- 
spring of poverty occasionally seen who, in spite 
of their nakedness, Seem successfully to defy the 
cold and the storm. These, however, are the few 
of the many that disease has left untouched. 
They are the hardy plants which remain in the 
wastes of misery, unwithered and undestroyed 
by the neglect and pestilence which have decayed 
and killed most of those of kindred growth. 
The surface of the body can not, as is often 120 
DELICACY OF SKIN. 
supposed, be hardened by continued exposure to 
cold or intemperate weather of any kind. The 
skin, when in a wholesome condition, is soft and 
moist, and, being constantly renewed, retains its 
freshness and delicacy throughout life. Its ten- 
derness and sensibility to changes of temperature 
and other impressions are thus preserved. It is 
true that certain parts of the skin, as that in 
the palm of the hand of the manual worker, does 
thicken and become hard. This, however, is not 
a natural state; and if by any process the whole 
surface of the body was covered with a similar 
shell of callousness, its vitality would probably 
be destroyed. It is necessary for the skin to re- 
tain its porousness and moist pliability, in order 
to perform properly the function of transpiration 
which is essential to life. On some festive occa- 
sion or other, in Paris, the skin of a child was 
covered with gold-leaf, and he died in conse- 
quence, a few hours after, within his stiff and 
impervious shroud of gilt. 
The inherent delicacy of the skin renders it 
particularly sensitive to cold and draughts of air. 
It, therefore, requires to be carefully protected. 
The low-necked, short, and sleeveless dresses, 
in which fond mothers delight to show off the 
swelling busts and rounded limbs of their dar- INDOOR AND OUTDOOR CLOTHING. 
121 
lings, is a vanity which can not be indulged in 
with safety in all latitudes and seasons. During 
the severe winters of the northern districts of 
our country, there should be no part of the sur- 
face of the body of a child, with .the exception of 
its face, exposed to the external air. With, how- 
ever, the fiery furnaces and more than tropical 
heat of most of our prosperous interiors, the in- 
door clothing may be very light, or almost noth- 
ing, provided the temperature be uniform, and all 
draughts and changes of air be avoided. With 
the prevailing practice of overheating our houses, 
there is always, on going out, a danger in facing 
the winter's breath. To escape this, the greatest 
possible difference should be made between the 
indoor and outdoor clothing. This is obviously 
to be done by relying for warmth chiefly upon 
the cloaks and coats, furs, and such exterior gar- 
ments as can be readily put on and off. If the 
under-clothing, or that ordinarily worn inside of 
the house, be too heavy, that worn on going out 
is apt to be too light to protect the body against 
the effect of the difference of temperature, a 
danger which is especially to be avoided. 
Of course, as air and exercise are essential to 
the health of the young, they must face the stern 
winter of their native land, but it is a fatal mis- 122 
FREE MOVEMENT. 
take to suppose that either nature or habit can 
render them insensible to its withering breath. 
The best security against its ill-effects is warm 
clothing, which must not be cast off with any ab- 
surd idea of child-hardening. 
The young should find no hinderance in dress 
to the freest exercise of their body and limbs, so 
essential to the full development of their growth 
and vigor. The garments should be large and 
loose, and no ligatures be permitted to bind with 
force any part of the frame. Not only will the 
tightening of the dress cause permanent dis- 
tortion, and thus destroy grace and beauty,, but 
will so interfere with the regular course of the 
blood and action of the various ■ organs as to 
produce functional derangement, and finally fa- 
tal disease. The infant especially, whose tender, 
frame yields so readily to pressure, requires to 
be clothed in such a manner that no part of its 
round and undulating form shall be prevented 
from moving and expanding with all the free- 
dom of nature. The custom to which some Ger- 
man mothers still cling with the tenacity of na- 
tional attachment to ancient traditions-that of 
Wrapping up their infants in successive band- 
ages, and fastening them to pillows, like martyrs 
bound to the stake-is admitted to be the cause THE DIAPER. 
123 
of. many of those deformities which are more 
prevalent in their country than elsewhere. In 
America, fortunately for the physical beauty and 
health of its people,this custom doesnot prevail; 
but American infants, even, are too often much 
restricted in freedom of movement by the preva- 
lent.mode, of dressing them. . . . • • ; 
The use of the diaper, which the nice regard 
of. mothers to cleanliness would not readily fore- 
go, has unquestionably a tendency to deform the 
lower limbs of an infant, and .many of the worst 
crooked'legs are owing to it. If not entirely 
dispensed with, its use need not be prolonged 
beyond a. very few months- of infancy, until, in 
fact, the natural instincts of the child are made, 
as they can be easily at a very early period, to 
assume the form of regular habits. The dia-' 
per, moreover, when used, should be very loosely 
adapted-to the child* so as not to bind the thigh 
and prevent the free action of its muscles. . 
. The infant, whose natural heat is of a less de- 
gree in comparison with that of the adult, must 
be warmly, dressed, and even in the hottest 
weather should .wear flannel, in some shape or 
other, next to the skin. With the simple require-, 
meats bf an infant, its dress needs but little ar- 
tifice, and in fashion may be reduced to its ele-'. 124 
SHACKLES OF FASHION-. 
mentary purpose, that of protection against the 
weather. The natural grace of infancy, naked 
and unconfined, is certainly in conformity with 
the laws of taste, and it is in perverse disobedi- 
ence of them that the artificial make-up of a lit- 
tle manikin of fashion is preferred. How would 
the latter appear, as a substitute for the former, 
in the arms of a Madonna ? >:.t' 
The rigid application of the arbitrary laws of 
fashion to children's dress is worse than an ab- 
surdity-it is a cruelty. ' It is obvious that the 
very young are positively indifferent to, if not 
absolutely unconscious of, the distinctions of cos- 
tume, and that they care nothing for the cut or 
stuff of a smock or a vest, provided their limbs are 
at ease and free to bend and move. ' The decorum 
of society requires, no doubt, a certain formality 
of costume, but surely, without much strain upon 
natural modesty, the home dress, at least of the 
young, both male and female, might be freed from 
much of its usual restraints, and children allowed 
to run, tumble, and twist, unchecked by waist- 
bands of whalebone, a precocious wearing of 
trowsers, drawers or pantalets, crinolines, and 
starched skirts. This would be an obvious and 
effective means of developing youthful muscle, 
and giving vigor of body as well as grace of form. BATHING. 
125 
The daily bath, begun at the first moment of 
birth, should be continued throughout the whole 
life.. Warm water is essential in early infancy, 
but its temperature may be gradually diminished 
with the growing strength and increasing age of 
the child. Drying of the body of the very young 
is a process requiring a good deal of attention; 
and lest the moisture which is sure to remain, 
even after the greatest care, should irritate the 
skin, its most tender parts ought to be dusted 
with powdered starch or rice flour. 126 
INSTINCTIVE EXERCISE. 
CHAPTER XL 
A healthy Babe's Indication of Want of Exercise.-Crying; 
-Dangerous Attempts to suppress Crying.-The best Ex- 
ercise for the Infant.-Artificial Contrivances.- Sympa- 
thetic Movements of Nurse and Child.-A Child's first At- 
tempts at Locomotion.-Over-eagerness of Parents to make 
their Children walk.-Distortion of Limbs.-Exposure to 
the Air.-The proper Conditions.-The Child's Carriage.- 
The essentials of Exercise for Children.-Children's Sus- 
ceptibility to Pleasure.-Cheerfulness of Children to be en- 
couraged.-Animal Spirits.-Their Importance for future 
Happiness.-Moral Effect.-A lively Nurse desirable.-A 
sunny Nursery.-Amusements of the Young.-Fine Clothes 
versus healthy and happy Children.-Home and outdoor 
Amusements.- Excitements.-The Precocity of modern 
Children.-Infant Gentlemen and Ladies.-Early Develop- 
ment of sexual Instinct.-Early intellectual Instruction.- 
When to begin.-Cultivation of observing Powers.-Influ- 
ence of Activity of Brain upon Body. 
A healthy babe is no sooner born than it in- 
dicates, by its cries, and the stretch and contrac- 
tion in quick alternation of its limbs, during that 
which has been called its first struggle with ex- 
istence, an instinctive want of exercise. Its first 
sense of relation with the outer world is display- CRYING. 
127 
cd in a movement of its whole system, the activ- 
ity of which, in a greater or less degree, is to be 
the established law of its future life. The vital 
forces show, by their promptitude to act, how es- 
sential action is to their existence. These early 
indications of nature are guides which should not 
fail to be followed by those who have charge of 
the infant, which, though it gives unmistakable 
evidence of its demands, is unable, from its natu- 
ral helplessness, to satisfy them without the aid 
of others. 
Crying is not always, as is generally supposed, 
an indication of infant suffering; and, though it 
is not advised to excite it by any cruelty, either 
indirectly through neglect, or directly by the in- 
fliction of pain, it is not recommended to check 
it by extreme measures of suppression. The 
probability that the cry of the infant may be 
only the effect of the rapid action of a new pair 
of lungs, eager to essay their untried powers and 
develop their strength, should be borne in mind. 
Mothers and nurses, with the reminder that the 
infant's cry is possibly only a healthful action, 
will be less ready to resort to the gin bottle, or 
the phial of soothing sirup, or other quieting 
compound, which will no doubt suppress the 
noisy working of the lungs, as they are sure soon- 128 
THE BEST EXERCISE FOR INFANTS. 
er or later to put an effectual stop to every oth- 
er process of life. The means used to allay the 
crying of an infant are the greatest risks it runs, 
for they generally depend for their power upon 
an opiate in some form or other, and this is al- 
ways injurious to health, and frequently fatal to 
life. 
The movement it inevitably undergoes in the 
course of its management, and the tossing it is 
subjected to in the arms of a handy and lively 
mother or nurse, is the best exercise for the in- 
fant. No artificial contrivances, like baby-jump- 
ers or other labor-saving machines, are safe sub- 
stitutes for the gentle handling of a woman 
whose nice tact enables her to adapt her every 
movement to the requirements of the child. The 
quick sympathy of the two binds them, as it 
were, into a common life, and each feeling of the 
one responds almost unconsciously to the touch 
of the other. Thus the action of a healthy babe 
and vigorous mother, animated by a mutual in- 
stinct of delighted companionship, will express 
itself in just such lively movements as are best 
for infant exercise. 
As soon as the child is strong and enterprising 
enough to leave its nurse's arms and try its own 
unaided powers of locomotion, it should be al- FORCED LOCOMOTION. 
129 
lowed to do so, whatever may be the form of its 
first awkward attempts at progress. Let it roll, 
tumble, and creep on the floor as it will, only 
taking care, of course, that it be not exposed to 
the dangers of a blazing fire, a red-hot stove, or 
precipitous staircase. Fond mothers and am- 
bitious nurses should check their eagerness to 
set the baby upon its legs. With the power to 
walk there generally comes the inclination to do 
so, and the child will ordinarily make the first 
effort after it has learned to steady itself on its 
feet, by the aid of a table, chair, or some other 
support. Mother and nurse, therefore, need not 
be constantly setting up the unfledged little one, 
only to topple over again, like an ill-made nine-pin. 
This premature forcing of a child's walking pow- 
ers is, apart from the obvious danger of falls, li- 
able to distort the legs and cause deformity for 
life. Where there is a natural tendency to such 
distortion, all machines for straightening the limbs 
should be avoided, as by compressing the mus- 
cles tightly they interfere with their action, the 
freedom of which is not only essential to the 
general vigor, but to the removal of the local de- 
formity. 
The youngest infant can be safely exposed to 
the air in summer, and, when a few months old, 130 
OUT-OF-DOORS. 
at all seasons, and, indeed, in almost all weathers. 
The greater requirements of warm clothing by 
the child, in consequence of its less degree of an- 
imal heat, should never be forgotten, and care be 
always taken that he is properly protected when 
sent out for the requisite daily airing. Out-of- 
doors as well as indoors, the arms of the nurse 
are the best conveyance for the infant, but its 
position must be changed from time to time, to 
prevent it acquiring any deformity. The child's 
carriage is a very good contrivance to facilitate 
a rising affection between Bridget and the po- 
liceman at the corner, but a very bad one for the 
interests of the baby. The child, smothered with 
pillows, and compressed into a fixture by layer 
upon layer of dress, blankets, and Afghans, lies 
in a state of half stupor. lie utters no cry and 
makes no movement. The nurse, finding that the 
neglect of her charge can be thus continued con- 
veniently with the progress of the Irish court- 
ship, the baby is allowed to snore away the whole 
time until it is taken back home, where it arrives 
without having breathed a breath of pure air or 
moved a limb in exercise. 
It is through the amusements of the young 
that their bodies usually receive the most ef- 
fective exercise, for in these is ordinarily found MIRTHFULNESS OF CHILDREN. 
131 
the requisite combination of physical movement 
with mental animation. Children are particular- 
ly susceptible to the pleasurable emotions. Their 
earliest recognition of the world, soon after they 
have been ushered into it, is a smile. Their first 
consciousness of a mother's tender pressure, a fa- 
ther's fond notice, or a little brother's or sister's 
sympathetic curiosity, is thus expressed. The 
least indication of the cheerful fills the infant 
with a glee which sparkles in every feature of 
the face, and sets in activity all his limbs. A 
beam of light, a tint of color, the gentlest motion 
or the slightest sound, will arouse all his mirth- 
fulness ; a glance from the mother's eye, a touch 
of the father's finger, the tinkle of a silver thim- 
ble, or the glistening of a silken shred, becomes a 
source of the intensest pleasure. 
This early susceptibility of the child to mirth 
should be, we think, more encouraged than it or- 
dinarily is. Not only would the present enjoy- 
ment of youth be thus promoted, but the future 
happiness of age. There is nothing so requisite 
for patiently enduring the trials of advanced life 
as abundant animal spirits, and these are only to 
be had by laying in a good stock during child- 
hood. Those who are cheerful while young are 
seldom sad when old. 132 
CULTIVATION OF MIRTHFULNESS. 
Cheerfulness, and its natural associates, mirth 
and laughter, are, moreover, especially favorable 
to health, not only of the mind but body. "A 
merry heart," says Solomon, " doeth good like a 
medicine, but sorrow drieth the bones." The 
moral effect, also, of cheerfulness is not to be de- 
spised. It is antagonistic to envy, strife, and all 
uncharitableness. The devil, said Luther, hates 
nothing so much as a good laugh. 
As we are persuaded that cheerfulness in child- 
hood is an excellent preparative for the labors of 
life, and an antidote to many of its ills, we would 
urge upon parents the importance of cultivating 
it in their offspring. Even in infancy much can 
be done toward encouraging the pleasurable emo- 
tions. It is above all essential that the mother, 
or other attendants, should sustain to their ut- 
most, in the presence of their children, a cheerful 
bearing. The nurse, with the idea that age is a 
proof of experience and a security against care- 
lessness, is chosen often too old to be successful 
in entertaining the young intrusted to her charge. 
Iler stiff and spasmodic attempts to amuse in- 
fants are far less successful than the natural im- 
pulses of the younger attendant to sympathize 
with their joyousness. There is all the difference 
between companionship and mastery. There is YOUTHFUL GAMES. 
133 
the warmth of inclination in the one, and nothing 
but the coldness of duty in the other. 
The importance of surrounding the young with 
cheerful objects is seldom sufficiently recognized. 
How often is the nursery the dullest room in the 
house I It should be the most cheerful, and have, 
both literally and figuratively, a sunny aspect. 
All its contents should have a lively air. 
With increasing age youth finds in the com- 
panionship of its fellows the society which is es- 
sential to its happiness, and acquires that knowl- 
edge of the traditionary games of boyhood and 
girlhood .which arc an endless source of gayety 
and pleasure. The top, ball, marbles, tag, leap- 
frog, hare and hounds, prisoner's-base, and the 
many other amusements of the young, with their 
varied inducements to active exercise of the body 
and enlivening influence upon the animal spirits, 
have a value to the child proved by the experi- 
ence of all time and all countries. We regret, 
however, to learn that, as they involve a certain 
roughening and dirtying of the hands, reddening 
of the face, and disheveling of the hair, and an 
unquestionable wear and tear of fine clothes, 
many parents discountenance them. They are 
denounced by the over-refined as the games of 
the rude children of a rude age, and as not gen- 134 
FINERY VS. HEALTH. 
teel enough for the nicer offspring of modern 
civilization ! They undoubtedly afford the young 
just that combination of mental excitement and 
physical action in which they delight, and from 
which both mind and body receive so much ben- 
efit. We therefore decide, without hesitation, in 
the case of fine clothes versus healthy and happy 
children, in favor of the healthy and happy chil- 
dren, leaving the fine clothes, as the lawyers say, 
" to be cast for damages." 
Parents should not only encourage their chil- 
dren to play these famous old games out-of-doors, 
but make abundant provision for their children's 
amusement at home. Knowing the prejudice 
against cards, which, perhaps, from the bad com- 
pany they are often associated with, is not very 
unreasonable, we do not venture to commend ab- 
solutely their use. Children, however, we must 
say, take, according to our experience, a greater 
and more constant interest in these " de'il's 
books," as the Scotch minister terms them, than 
in almost any other game, and this without the 
stimulus of gain. Their aspect, which is ordina- 
rily bright and cheerful, entices the youthful eye, 
and the various changes and combinations the 
cards admit of are unceasing provocatives to 
their curiosity. Without cards, however, there PRECOCIOUS MEN AND WOMEN. 
135 
are draughts, chess, dominoes, and home, billiards, 
to which, we believe, the most scrupulous do not 
now object. Parents and guardians should be 
careful to supply these games, and whatever else 
may promote innocent amusement. 
In all amusements provided for children, it is 
important that they should be, as far as possible, 
of a kind as to necessitate active physical exer- 
cise in the open air. The excitements of a pure- 
ly intellectual or emotional character can not be 
indulged in with safety by the young except 
to the most moderate extent. One of the pre- 
vailing faults of our day is the too rapid assimi- 
lation of youth to age. Prolonged childishness 
is better than a precocious development. The 
eagerness to make men and women of our boys 
and girls, leads to the production of those useless 
creatures who have neither innocence nor discre- 
tion, docility nor instruction, the power of growth 
nor the ripeness of maturity. Forced too rapid- 
ly, they have so far exhausted their vitality in ac- 
quiring the outward forms as to want the pow- 
er of developing the substance of manhood and 
womanhood. Presuming, however, upon their 
semblance to maturity, they accept its gravest 
responsibilities, and bend and break, of course, 
beneath the weight. 136 
INFANT GENTLEMEN AND LADIES. 
One of the most pitiable forms of youthful 
precocity is that which presents itself in fashion- 
able society as the infant gentleman or lady. 
This little ape is a perfect reproduction in min- 
iature of the parent. As one dresses, so is the 
other dressed; as one talks, so does the other 
babble; as one scorns the vulgar, so the other 
turns up its little nose at "common" children; 
as one goes into society, so, of course, must the 
other. The little gentleman and little lady have 
their reunions, their dinner-parties and balls, with 
all their accompanying vanities, rivalries, scandal- 
ous gossip, and the unwholesome excitements of 
late hours, wanton dances, and irregular eating 
and drinking, in hot, thronged, and ill-ventilated 
rooms. 
There is nothing that it behooves parents so 
completely to guard against as the too early de- 
velopment of the sexual instinct of the young. 
This often occurs in the earliest infancy, as a con- 
sequence of the excessive caressing of indiscreet 
attendants, and in more advanced childhood it is 
not an unusual result of exposing the young pre- 
maturely to the excitement of dancing-parties 
and other fashionable provocatives to voluptuous 
indulgence. 
All systematic intellectual instruction of the WHEN TO BEGIN EDUCATION. 
137 
child should be deferred until it has reached the 
age of six years. Education, however, may be 
said to begin from the very first moment of the 
infant's birth. Its senses immediately make the 
effort to adapt themselves to the world into 
which it has just entered, and so throughout 
childhood, during every moment of its existence, 
it is acquiring a knowledge of external things. 
This natural self-instruction of the child can and 
should be encouraged. This may be done, with- 
out fatigue to the immature brain, by following 
the guide that nature points out in the more and 
more animated interest the growing child exhib- 
its each day in external objects. The observing 
powers, then, are those which the parents should 
be especially careful to cultivate in their young 
children. This is obviously done by putting be- 
fore them and directing their attention to things 
the form and color of which impress themselves 
readily upon their senses. 
Those ordinarily called intellectual phenomena, 
whose brains have been stimulated into a preco- 
cious vitality at the expense of the strength of 
all the rest of the body, are not desirable pro- 
ductions, and, fortunately, not easy to create. 
That early mental precocity which is generally 
found in combination with physical weakness, is 138 
EARLY EXERCISE OF BRAIN. 
oftener the effect than the cause of the latter, 
and we doubt whether many serious diseases ei- 
ther among the young or the old have been due 
to the direct influence upon the body of the ex- 
ercise of the brain. 
Mischief, certainly, and serious mischief too, is 
done by neglecting to associate with the means 
for cultivating the intellect the requirements es- 
sential for the preservation of health and the de- 
velopment of physical vigor. Such a neglect, 
however, must equally affect the stupid and the 
intelligent, and therefore it is not reasonable to 
attribute the consequences of a want of pure air 
and bodily exercise to an excessive working of 
the brain. If long confinement in unwholesome 
places and painful constraint could be avoided 
in the course of teaching, the very young might 
safely receive all the intellectual instruction of 
which they are capable. We are quite persuaded 
that the exercise of the brain, with a proper re- 
gard to the requirements of the laws of health, is 
favorable to physical as well as mental vigor. 
Intellectual inactivity is more to be feared than 
the reverse. SLEEP. 
139 
CHAPTER XII. 
Facility of Sleep.-Carelessness in regard to best Means of 
securing healthful Sleep.- The physiological Conditions 
essential.-The Bedroom.-Effect of Noise.-A Story.- 
Quiet a Disturber of Sleep.-Best Position for Bedroom. 
- Flimsiness of modern Houses.- Indoor and outdoor 
Noises.-Remedy for.-Sleep and Stupor.-Ventilation of 
Bedroom.- Maximum and Minimum of Space.- Open 
Windows.- Night Air.-Furniture of Bedroom.-The 
Bed.-Position of the Bed.-Bed-clothes.-Their Philos- 
ophy.-Impervious Coverlets.-Edredon.-When to make 
the Bed.-Window-curtains.-Carpets and Rugs.-Pic- 
tures. 
That blessed sleep, which, as Sancho Panza 
says, covers a man all over, body and mind, like 
a cloak, is indeed a merciful dispensation, which 
comes to most betimes, wherever they may be. 
The man with the healthy mind in the healthy 
body seldom fails to find the repose at night 
which is the appointed refreshment after his 
daily work. lie may stretch his weary frame on 
the bare ground or scanty straw, in the close 
dungeon or the open air, and sleep will shed its 
benign influence over him. The famished Laza- 
rus even will slumber, insensible to hunger, and 140 
TBUE AND FALSE SLEEP. 
feast, perchance, in his dreams by the side of 
Dives; and the conscience of the guilty wretch 
has often failed to arouse his somnolence on the 
very eve of his execution, and within sound of 
the rising gallows. 
This facility of sleep makes many people less 
regardful than they should be of the means nec- 
essary to secure its best effects as to health and 
comfort. There are undoubtedly some excep- 
tionally vigorous people who will sleep soundly, 
and awaken apparently thoroughly refreshed, un- 
der circumstances ordinarily favorable neither to 
repose nor reinvigoration. Uninterrupted insen- 
sibility, however, is very apt to be mistaken for 
healthful slumber, and many a night is thus pass- 
ed in a condition more akin to stupor than sleep. 
A close room and a charcoal-burner will secure 
for the most restless and insomnolent the pro- 
foundest repose, even that of death. 
Sleep, however sound, can not be healthful 
without those conditions which physiology proves 
to be essential to the proper action of the func- 
tions of life, whether in full or partial operation; 
for in slumber, it must be recollected, there is 
not cessation, but merely diminution, of vitality. 
The brain, the nerves, the lungs, the heart, the 
digestive apparatus, the muscles, and, in fact, all THE BEDROOM. 
141 
parts of the animal system, work by night as well 
as by day, though, indeed, with greatly diminish- 
ed activity. The body, therefore, is subject to 
the same physiological laws in sleep as in wake- 
fulness, and it is fatal to attempt to withdraw it 
from their control. 
Most people are supposed to be provided with 
a plaice called a bedroom or bed-chamber to sleep 
in, and it is essential for health and comfort that 
this should be properly adapted to the purpose. 
Stillness is generally a requisite for sleep, yet 
such is the influence of habit and custom that 
noise becomes occasionally necessary. We know 
the story of the new tenant of a house prosecuting 
as a nuisance a neighboring tin-shop, the perse- 
vering industry of the proprietor of which led 
him to begin before the day and prolong far into 
the night the characteristic din of his trade, and 
thus murder all sleep. With the proverbial delay 
of the law, the case, though finally decided in fa- 
vor of the plaintiff, was so protracted that he had 
in the mean time become accustomed to the noise, 
and found, on its being put an end to, that with 
the gain of his suit he had lost his repose, and 
was fain to solicit his old tormentor to bring back 
his shop that he might be soothed to sleep by its 
tumultuous lullaby. Every traveler is kept con- 142 
EFFECT OF QUIET. 
scions, at the beginning of his voyage in a steam- 
er, of its noisy discomfort during many an hour 
of the night, made wakeful by the constant thuds 
of screw or paddle and the tremor of the engine; 
but long before the end of bis journey they be- 
come, from habit, necessary to his repose, and 
nothing is so sure to rouse him from the deepest 
slumber as the sudden cessation of these sounds 
when he awakes in an agony of horrible stillness. 
Quiet, however, is ordinarily essential to sleep; 
and where there can be a choice, the bed-cham- 
ber should be situated as remotely as possible 
from all the usual noises of the house. While it 
should be of easy approach, it ought not to be 
too neai* the common thoroughfare of hall, stair- 
case, or corridor, where there must necessarily 
be a more or less constant tramping of feet, 
hum of voices, and other sounds in the course 
of household life. There are always some-as 
servants, for example-who have to go to bed 
later and rise earlier than others; and the most 
discreet of these can not be always relied upon 
for a careful consideration of the comfort of 
those inclined to sleep. 
Modern houses are apt to be built in such a 
flimsy manner that the floors and walls hardly, 
as regards noise, separate adjoining dwellings FLIMSY HOUSES. 
143 
and their various compartments from each other. 
Every neighbor is heard, if not seen, and one is 
forced, whatever may be his humor or necessity 
for quiet, to share in every tumultuous demon- 
stration of the life which surrounds him. Ilis 
nerves are made to thrill in painful response to 
each labored tinkle of the piano; his tranquillity 
is jarred by every burst of noisy laughter, and 
his attention distracted by the hum of continu- 
ous chatter in the house next door. In his own 
dwelling, not a foot falls but he hears it, and 
each step sends a vibration from the garret to 
the basement. The mere opening of a window 
or the shutting of a door startles the quietude 
of the most remote inhabitant, with a sound as 
of some terrible catastrophe. From the con- 
fused rattle of outdoor city life there is not in 
the innermost precincts of the dwelling a secure 
retreat; and a man's ears must ring with the 
blasts of every passing band, the galloping of 
horses, and the clattering of carriages and un- 
easy wagons, or be pierced by shrill street-cries 
and shattered by the heavy thumps of unloading 
carts. 
The remedy for these annoyances must be 
sought for in a more solid construction of mod- 
ern houses. In the mean time, if, in spite of ears 144 
REQUISITE QUANTITY OF AIR. 
stuffed with cotton, floors covered with layers 
of felt, and closed windows and doors, the noise 
from without continues, as it probably will, to 
penetrate within, there is no othei' alternative 
than that philosophical endurance which teaches 
us to submit as patiently as possible to what 
can not be cured. An indifference to such an- 
noyances, however provoking at first, can be cul- 
tivated with considerable success. This is to be 
mainly done by accepting them as among the in- 
evitable ills of life, and resolutely adapting the 
patience to their infliction, until the sufferance 
of it becomes habitual, and consequently less dif- 
ficult. 
Though the want of pure air is favorable to 
stupor, an abundant supply of it is requisite for 
healthful sleep. It is particularly desirable, there- 
fore, that the bed-chamber should be spacious 
and well ventilated. It has been estimated that 
three thousand cubic feet is the smallest breath- 
ing-space to be allowed to two occupants of a 
bedroom, which should thus have the dimen- 
sions of twenty feet in length, fifteen feet in 
width, and ten feet in height. This, then, is the 
minimum to which contraction is permissible. 
The mtmmw may be extended almost as far 
as the command of space will allow. Large NIGHT AIR. 
145 
sleeping apartments are undoubtedly very favor- 
able to health. The desire for free respiration 
during slumber leads many people to secure an 
abundant supply of fresh air by leaving a win- 
dow communicating with the atmosphere with- 
out open during the night at all seasons. This 
-the very thought of which will send a chill of 
dread and imaginary cold all over our furnace- 
baked dames, and which might, if they tried it 
in reality, shiver them to destruction, as the gen- 
tlest puff of pure air will an overheated glass- 
is, notwithstanding, a practice, as is proved by 
the experience of many a vigorous veteran, fa- 
vorable to health and long life. If there should 
happen to be a second room communicating with 
the bed-chamber, it would be well that it at least 
should have a wdndow opened during the whole 
night. Of course draughts are to be avoided; 
but if these are prevented by a proper arrange- 
ment and opening of the doors and windows in 
relation to each other, almost any degree of cold 
in the bedroom will be safe while the sleeper is 
warmly nestled beneath his blankets. 
" Another extraordinary fallacy," exclaims Miss 
Nightingale, and her well-tried and intelligent 
experience entitles her to speak emphatically, " is 
the dread of night air. What air can we breathe 146 
MORNING AIR. 
at night but night air? The choice is between 
pure night air from without, and foul night air 
from within. Most people prefer the latter. An 
unaccountable choice. What will they say if it 
is proved to be true that fully one-half of all the 
disease we suffer from is occasioned by people 
sleeping with their windows shut? An open 
window most nights in the year can never hurt 
any one. In great cities, night air is often the 
best and purest air to be had in the twenty-four 
hours." 
It seems almost a natural impulse for every 
one rising in the morning to refresh himself with 
the pure air of the early day, and most people 
are hardly up before they throw the windows of 
their bedrooms wide open. The vigorous can 
indulge in this practice not only with safety, but 
benefit; and even the weakly, provided that they 
take care, by proper covering, to avoid too great 
and sudden a change, may expose themselves in 
most climates and seasons to the freshness of the 
outward air with impunity. At any rate, the 
windows should be opened just as the occupant 
of the bedroom is about to leave, and left so for 
most of the day. 
The principal piece of the furniture of a bed- 
room is, of course, the bed. We in the United BEDSTEAD. 
147 
States, with our practical good sense, have long 
since discarded the old four-poster, as it was 
termed, with its ponderous immobility and heavy 
hangings of stuff of divers kinds, so absorbent 
of impurities and attractive of deposits of dust, 
"slut's wool," and other dirt. The bedstead 
should be kept free of all curtains and incum- 
brances for show. It ought to be made so mov- 
able by lightness, or casters attached to its feet, 
that its position can be easily changed for the 
convenience of sleeper or maker of the bed, and 
the ready removal of dust, so apt to accumulate 
under and about it. Feather-beds we regard as 
obsolete, and we doubt if even a surviving grand- 
mother can be found to favor them. The ordi- 
nary spring mattresses of hair, superimposed on 
paillasses of straw or corn-shucks, are the most 
healthful to lie upon. The best position for the 
bed is with its head to the wall, so that either 
side may be left free for the access of air and the 
bed-maker. 
The bed-clothes, like those of daily wear, are 
heated by the body, and not the body by them. 
They act merely by preventing the escape of heat 
generated by the living person. Warmth, then, 
is best secured by such bed-coverings as are bad 
conductors; and those are the worst conductors 148 
BED-CLOTHING. 
which have, in consequence of their texture, the 
greatest capacity for air. Wool, which, within 
its loose and porous structure, always contains 
a large supply of air, is the material best adapt- 
ed for keeping the body warm in bed. Fleecy 
woolen blankets are the most suitable coverings 
in every respect. They are not only warm, but 
their warmth is of a healthy kind-since, from 
their lightness, they do not weigh heavily upon 
the body, and interfere by pressure with the free 
action of its functions ; and their porousness per- 
mits the evaporation of its natural moisture. Im- 
pervious coverlets and bed-comforters, as they 
are miscalled, stuffed and stitched solid writh cot- 
ton, are not only poor protectors of the warmth, 
but disturbers of the ease and natural action of 
the sleeping body. 
The edredon, judiciously used, is a comfortable 
appendage to the bed in the rigid winter weather, 
especially for the aged and weakly, liable to suffer 
from excessive coldness of the legs and feet. The 
floating eider-down, of which it is ordinarily made, 
forms the warmest of all envelopes, and is so light 
that its weight is imperceptible. The 'edredon 
should be used merely, however, as a partial means 
of warmth, and to cover only the lower extremities. 
The bed must not be made until an hour or more FLOOR COVERINGS. 
149 
after its incumbent of the night has left it, and 
its internal surfaces have, by a due scattering and 
turning of its contents, been well exposed to the 
fresh air and clear daylight from the open win- 
dows. A sunny exposure we regard as advanta- 
geous to every room, whether used by day or 
night. As this, however, is not always practica- 
ble, it can be dispensed with better in the bed- 
chamber than elsewhere, as darkness is an essen- 
tial requisite of the nocturnal abode. Heavy 
window-curtains, however, are objectionable for 
the same reason as weighty bed-hangings. An 
easily movable shade, just sufficient to temper the 
too intrusive light of dawn or glimmering of the 
moon, is better than thick drapery of any kind, 
barred shutters, or close blinds. 
Modern luxury insists upon the carpet, but 
not wisely, as we think. Painted or inlaid floors 
of wood, with rugs, are, according to our taste, 
more becoming, and certainly more healthful. 
A permanently laid woolen covering to the floor 
must necessarily absorb and retain much dust 
and other impurity. A rug, on the other hand, 
removable each day, can be kept free from un- 
cleanness of all kinds. None but the necessary 
articles of the toilet, etc., should be admitted 
into the bedroom, so that there may be left the 150 
PURITY AND DECORATION. 
freest scope for the air and the broom. The 
bed-chamber utensil ought not, if possible, to 
be used during the day; and when so, immedi- 
ately emptied, and scalded with hot water, of 
which a little should be left in. No slops, dirty 
linen, or clothes-basket should be retained in a 
sleeping apartment. Painted or frescoed walls 
are preferable, for health's sake, to paper-hang- 
ings. The decorations need not be very numer- 
ous or elaborate, as the bedroom is meant to 
sleep, and not to lie awake in. There should be 
a few choice engravings-as, for example, of the 
sacred pictures of Raphael, which, if we do not 
all revere as symbols of piety, no one refuses to 
admire as ideals of chaste beauty. Every eye 
closing or waking upon the sanctified manliness 
of saint and apostle, purified maternity of Vir- 
gin, and holy innocence of Child, must receive 
visions of beatitude for which the dreams of the 
night will be sweeter and the aspirations of the 
day nobler. QUANTITY OF SLEEP. 
151 
CHAPTER XIII. 
Quantity of Sleep required.-Sleeplessness self-incurred.- 
Pure Air, and Abundance of it.-No personal Clothing re- 
quired.-The Night-dress.-Freedom from Constraint es- 
sential to Sleep.-Position of the Body.-Right or left 
Side?-Turning to the Window.-Pillow.-The Effects 
of a hard and narrow Pillow.-Nightmare.-Snoring.- 
Late Suppers.-Miss Martineau on Brandy-and-water be- 
fore going to bed. - Requirements of weak-toned Peo- 
ple.-Tea and Coffee drinking.-The last Cigar.-Late 
Studies.-Business Anxieties.-The daily Bath.-A good 
Soporific.-Danger of Opiates.-Early Rising.-The sec- 
ond Sleep. -'-Putting on and putting off the Clothes.-A 
tropical Practice.-Cleanliness of Clothing. - Dirt and 
Cold.-Adaptation of Dress according to Chemistry.- 
Summer and winter Apparel.-Effect of Moisture upon 
Clothes.-The Advantage of woolen Garments. 
Eight hours out of the twenty-four of each 
day are required by most healthy adults for 
sleep, and this quantity they seldom fail to get. 
With the exception of those accidental disturb- 
ances to repose, such as sudden alarms, surprises, 
and extraordinary exigencies of life or business, 
there is no other cause to deprive a healthy man 
of his full proportion of sleep than what can be 152 
NIGHT-CLOTHES. 
attributed to his own ignorance or perversity. 
If a man who is otherwise well suffers from 
sleeplessness, he may be sure that it is within his 
power to remedy it, as it will be found to be pro- 
duced by a defect of diet, regimen, or habit, or 
by some circumstance of life under his control. 
After a full exposition of the requirements of 
the bedroom for comfortable and healthful slum- 
ber, it is not necessary now to insist particular- 
ly upon the external wants of the human body 
during sleep. It is hoped that it has been made 
sufficiently clear to the reader that pure air, and 
abundance of it, are as essential to the sleeping 
as to the wakeful man, and that the bed-cover- 
ings, which are merely the nocturnal clothing, 
are to be regulated according to the same chem- 
ical laws as should govern the adaptation of the 
daily dress to the wearer. 
As far as comfort is concerned, there is no 
need of any personal clothing at all in bed, which, 
if properly made, and adapted to the requirements 
of the body, will supply it, even in its nakedness, 
with all that it demands for warmth as well as 
health. For propriety's sake, however, a dress 
of some kind is ordinarily worn. This should 
never consist of any portion of the coverings of 
daily wear. The shirt, the drawers, the stock- POSITION OF BODY. 
153 
ings, and even the bodily vest of flannel, should 
be cast off on going to bed, and a single fresh 
garment put on. The night-gown should be 
made long and full, and fashioned in such a man- 
ner that none of its parts can be so drawn as to 
constrict the body in the least during its move- 
ments in the insensibility of sleep. There should 
be no wristbands, in the ordinary sense, but the 
sleeves should be of great and nearly uniform 
width. The neck should be spacious, and not 
closed by buttons, and the bosom left free to 
open. The wearing of stockings, as is not un- 
common, during sleep, is a pernicious practice. 
In fact, the body should be unhampered by any 
tight-fitting garment, and freed from all ties and 
ligatures, as, in its prostrate and comparatively 
inactive condition during slumber, its organs and 
circulation are rendered very liable to be deranged 
by the slightest pressure or constriction. 
The position of the body has much to do with 
the soundness and refreshment of sleep. In re- 
clining, the sleeper should lie upon his left side, 
a habit of doing which may be easily acquired. 
In this position the heart, which is movable, re- 
mains more readily in its natural place, while, if 
the body lies on the right, this organ is shifted, 
and, compressing the lungs, interferes with the 154 
CAUSES OF DISORDERED SLEEP. 
freedom of breathing. The bed should be so sit- 
uated that, while the sleeper lies on his left side, 
he will also be turned toward the windows; for 
it'seems a natural instinct, even in sleep, to seek 
the source of light. 
A sufficient breadth of pillow, so that it may 
support the shoulders as well as the head, will 
greatly aid in giving the body, in sleep, its proper 
position. A hard and narrow pillow disposes a 
reclining person to lie on his back, which is the 
worst position he can take for comfortable and 
healthful repose. The back part of his head, 
moreover, hangs, as it were, on the ledge of its 
narrow support, and being thus compressed, the 
circulation of the blood is deranged in that part 
of the brain upon which the respiratory and other 
animal functions depend. These are accordingly 
ill-performed, and many of those familiar phenom- 
ena of disordered sleep ensue, such as nightmare, 
with its horrors, frightful dreams, startings, diffi- 
culty of breathing, and that sonorous respiration 
known as snoring-a fertile source of domestic 
disquietude, which disturbs the repose of every 
one within its hearing, and often, much to the 
satisfaction of his vexed neighbor, awakens the 
sleeper himself. 
The practice of taking food and drink a short REFRESHMENTS AT BED-TIME. 
155 
time before retiring to bed, although not always 
commendable, is occasionally favorable to sleep. 
Robust people, with a tendency to fullness of 
habit, should certainly avoid taking what is call- 
ed a late supper; but there are many persons, of 
a more delicate organization and weaker tone, 
though not in ill health, who have a greater in- 
clination to sound slumber after taking a meal 
than on going to bed with an entirely empty 
stomach. Miss Martineau, after suffering a long 
time from nervous wakefulness, and trying, as 
she tells us, in vain all the soporifics of the phar- 
macopoeia, found in a glass of brandy-and-water, 
recommended by some unprofessional adviser to 
be drunk at bed-time, a specific which restored 
to her her full modicum of refreshing sleep. 
Nervous people, liable to sleeplessness, would be 
undoubtedly benefited by taking a little light food 
just before going to bed; and some weak wine, 
or stronger stimulant well diluted, might be occa- 
sionally added with good effect. 
Late tea and coffee drinking, as well the last 
cigar, which the habitual smoker, at the very mo- 
ment of going to bed, generally adds to the large 
sum of his day's consumption, are apt to be great 
disturbers of the night's rest. 
The business of the day allowed to prolong its 156 
EAKLY RISING. 
exciting hopes and worrying anxieties into the 
late hours of the night, studies pursued, and 
emotional reading of all varieties indulged in to 
the last moment before going to bed, so vex and 
agitate the mind, that it will rarely permit to the 
most fatigued body its necessary repose. 
The daily bath, which, it need hardly be said, 
is a requisite for comfort and health,may be used 
advantageously as a promoter of sleep. During 
hot weather, the rapid sponging of the whole 
body with cold water, just before going to bed, 
is an excellent soporific; and in winter the tepid 
bath will be hardly less effectual. 
Drugs of all kinds, and especially the opiates, 
should never be tasted by people in health, and 
even when ill, only under the specific direction, 
each time, of some skillful and discreet physician. 
The benefits of early rising have been greatly 
exaggerated. People who go to bed late must 
rise late, if they are to obtain the full modicum 
of sleep requisite for health. When this, how- 
ever, is secured, there should be no lingering 
abed, as the second sleep, as it is termed, is an in- 
dulgence in an indolent practice, and not the sat- 
isfaction of a natural want, and is undoubtedly 
both weakening and stupefying. The moral and 
physical advantages to children of early rising PUTTING ON AND OFF THE CLOTHES. 
157 
are admitted, but we doubt whether it is as es- 
sential to the health and length of life of grown- 
up people as many have claimed it to be. 
The human clothing is naturally associated with 
the bedroom in which it is generally put on and 
taken off. These processes, simple as they may 
be, require, for health's sake, some little attention. 
A practice prevails in tropical countries of shak- 
ing thoroughly every article of apparel just be- 
fore it is placed on the body. The motive which 
prompts this comes from the fear lest a centipede 
or other lively and virulent specimen of natural 
history has hid itself somewhere W'ithin the folds 
of the garment. Even without the danger of 
wearing one's shirt in conjunction with such an 
intruder, it is an excellent practice to shake it 
and every other article of clothing thoroughly 
before putting them on. They are thus rid of 
dust, and well aired-processes which every one 
who has not a valet to do for him should do for 
himself. 
Nice people need not be told of the necessity 
of a frequent change of clothing; but those who 
are not so should be reminded that a continuous 
wear of the same dress is not only uncleanly, but 
unfavorable to comfort and health. The under- 
garments worn next to the skin, as they absorb 158 
CLEANLINESS AND WARMTH. 
the noxious secretions of the body, should be, 
whatever may be their texture, frequently wash- 
ed, and the outer changed from time to time, to 
allow of a lengthened purification by shaking and 
an exposure to air. Cleansing of a garment, 
apart from its being a decorous concession to 
propriety, has the effect of keeping the inter- 
stices of the material of which it may be made 
free for the admission of air, so essential to the 
protection of the warmth of the body. The floc- 
culent texture of woolen cloth especially, if not 
often stirred by shaking and beating, or ruffled 
by the bristles of a brush, will become so matted 
together by the constant pressure of use, as to 
lose its peculiar adaptation to this purpose. The 
thickest winter coat, however warm when new 
and clean, may thus become, when old and al- 
lowed to get dirty from neglect, not only an un- 
seemly, but a very cold garment. 
Bearing in mind the chemical division of sub- 
stances into good and bad conductors of heat, 
and the fact that the artificial coverings of the 
body have no other effect than to keep in or let 
out the natural warmth of the body, there can be 
no difficulty in adapting the dress, in all seasons, 
to the requirements of health and comfort. 
Apparel of summer wear should be composed THE WARMEST CLOTHING. 
159 
of material that conducts heat rapidly; and that 
of winter, of such as conducts it slowly. The 
greater or less power of conduction of all sub- 
stances that are practically available for clothing 
the human body depends, it will be recollected, 
upon their capacity for air. Those which hold 
the most of this worst of all conductors of heat 
become, in consequence, bad conductors them- 
selves ; and those which have the least capacity 
for it are necessarily good ones. Thick and loose 
textures are obviously better holders of air, and 
consequently poorer 'conductors, than thin and 
close ones. The garment of wool, therefore, will 
keep in the bodily heat better, and of course feel 
warmer, than that of linen. The capacity of 
dress for air, it is clear, will be increased by 
a multiplicity of layers and looseness of fit, while 
it will be diminished by tightness. The infer- 
ence,then, is obvious, that the warmth of the body 
is best secured by clothes that are easy and com- 
posed of successive folds. In the winter a per- 
son does well to pile loose coat upon loose coat, 
when exposed to severe cold without the oppor- 
tunity of active bodily exercise. 
Moisture increases the conducting power of all 
clothing, inasmuch as, driving out the air, it takes 
its place in the interstices of the material of which 160 
BEST CLOTHING IN WET WEATHER. 
it may be composed. Wool absorbs moisture 
with less rapidity than linen, and its conducting 
power is not so much increased by it. Whatever, 
therefore, may be the season of the year and the 
temperature, a woolen dress, when exposure to 
wet is inevitable, is safer to wear than that of 
any other material; for the heat of the body is 
less likely to be suddenly checked-an occurrence 
always dangerous to health, and frequently fatal 
to life. THE MEAL OE THE SAVAGE. 
161 
CHAPTER XIV. 
The Savage surprised by the civilized Dinner.-Barbarous 
and refined Eating contrasted.-Banqueting-halls.-Scott's 
Description in "Ivanhoe."-The Banqueting-hall.-Its 
Connection with social Enjoyments.-The English Squire 
in Relation to his Mahogany.-Dining-room subordinate to 
the Drawing-room.-Modern Refinement.-The modern 
Tendency.-The English Dining-room.-An English Din- 
ner.-Washington Irving at an English Table.-Furniture 
of English Dining-room.-Continental and English Din- 
ing-rooms contrasted.-The essential Furniture of a Din- 
ing-room. and Dietetic.-Engravings for a Din- 
ing-room.-Requisites for the Dining-room. 
A savage suddenly introduced among civilized 
people is surprised by nothing so much as their 
complicated methods of satisfying hunger and 
thirst. lie, plucking the mussel from the rock, 
shooting the bird in the air, or piercing the wild 
beast in the wood, with his ever-ready arrow and 
spear, as chance may offer, supplies his wants 
with hardly more deliberation than the animal 
upon which he preys. Tearing the still quiver- 
ing flesh with tooth and nail, he gorges himself 
with it without regard to condition, time, place, 162 
THE DINNER OF CIVILIZATION. 
or order. Ilis appetite rather waits upon the 
food than the food upon his appetite, and he 
feeds when, how, and wherever he can. No 
wonder, then, that the savage, when he is first 
brought to contemplate the dinner of civilization, 
is struck with astonishment; and he may well 
be, for it is a marvel of ingenious art and com- 
plicated formality. 
Think of the preliminary discussion and prep- 
aration; the varied meats, condiments, wines, and 
delicacies gathered from the four quarters of the 
globe; the complicated artifices of cookery; the 
ingenious provocatives to appetite; the services 
of porcelain, crystal, plate, and fine linen; the or- 
der, precision, and gravity of the ceremonials, 
which are essential to the modern dinner as per- 
fected by the luxurious! What a contrast this 
presents to the simple food and manner of eat- 
ing of the natural man 1 How many luxuries 
and ceremonies arc superimposed upon the mere 
necessaries and instinctive actions of life ! 
With the growing refinement in eating it came 
to be associated with social enjoyment and hos- 
pitality, and a part of the dwelling was appropri- 
ated exclusively for the purpose. The banquet- 
ing-hall was, in the earlier days of civilization, 
the largest and most adorned apartment of the THE OLD BANQUETING-HALL. 
163 
house. "First, therefore, I say," declares Lord 
Bacon, " you can not have a perfect palace ex- 
cept you have two several sides-a side for the 
banquet, as is spoken of in the book of Esther, 
and a side for the household; the one for feasts 
and triumphs, and the other for dwelling." 
The early Saxon thanes, though their mansions 
were rude and unimposing in comparison with the 
tall, turreted, and castellated buildings of their 
Norman conquerors, prided themselves upon hav- 
ing great banqueting-halls, where, in accordance 
with their titles of "Dividers of Bread," they 
dispensed their generous hospitality. Scott's de- 
scription in " Ivanhoe," though heightened by his 
own imagination, gives, probably, a tolerably just 
historic idea of such structures. They were evi- 
dently as grand and luxurious as the rude art 
and narrow resources of those earlier days ad- 
mitted. Though the floor of Cedric the Saxon's 
hall was of earth mixed with lime, such as is 
often employed in the modern barn, there was 
the dais, with its canopy and coverings of scarlet 
cloth, its chairs and settles of carved oak, and 
footstools " curiously carved and inlaid with 
ivory." 
The banqueting-hall became, indeed, in the ear- 
lier times of the civilization of our race, the main 164 
THE MODERN DINING-ROOM. 
apartment of the house, as eating and drinking 
were, in fact, the chief sources of social enjoy- 
ment and entertainment. The old English squire 
continued to a late day the traditionary impor- 
tance of the dining-room given to it by his Sax- 
on ancestors; and what time he was not in the 
stables, or galloping like mad at the heels of a 
fox, he spent with his boon companions, gorging 
himself with meat and drink at the table, or lying 
drunk under it. It is only within the memory 
of living men that the dining-room has become 
subordinate to the parlor, or drawing-room. 
A better knowledge of the laws of health in- 
creased general culture; and a higher apprecia- 
tion of woman have led men to prefer the equa- 
ble animation of temperance, and the refinement 
of conversation, literature, the fine arts, and fe- 
male society, to the grossness of sensual indul- 
gence, the spasmodic excitement of wine, and the 
brutish association of fellow-debauchees. Thus 
cultivated people of our day seldom linger any 
longer in their dining-rooms than is necessary 
to eat and drink sufficiently and decorously, but 
withdraw themselves as soon as possible from 
the confused remains and satiating odors of the 
feast to the inviting freshness and tasteful order 
of the parlor. THE ENGLISH DINING-ROOM. 
165 
The change which has led to the comparative 
degradation of the dining-room has been unques- 
tionably of benefit to the taste and manners of 
society. There is, however, a tendency in anoth- 
er direction-namely, to turn the parlor, or draw- 
ing-room, into a mere place for the show of taw- 
dry upholstery, or the reception of a set of heart- 
less people known as the fashionable. This is 
fast converting the ancient virtue of hospitality 
into a mere display of cost and formality of en- 
tertainment, from which neither he who gives 
nor he who receives derives any benefit. There 
is surely, without recurring to the gluttony and 
intemperate drinking of the dining-room of old, 
a sufficient motive for mutual intercourse. If 
the maudlin freedom of drunkenness, or the cost- 
ly formality of the fashionable party, is essential 
to society, then man does not surely deserve to 
be called a social animal, but only a groveling 
brute or a painted lay figure. 
The English dining-room is a sombre place, in 
harmony with the seriousness of the ordinary 
English dinner. Heavy curtains of dark stuff 
shut out all distraction from without, that neither 
the light of day nor the brightness of nature may 
interfere with the solemn ceremony within. The 
night is awaited, that no unfinished labor or press 
of business may disturb and hasten the crowning 166 
A SLEEPY SYMPOSIUM. 
work of an Englishman's daily life. The candles 
are lighted, the dinner is announced, the host and 
hostess marshal in the guests, dressed in prim 
correctness of attire, and ranked in order with 
the precision of the Heralds' College. Hardly a 
word is spoken, and not a footfall heard on the 
thickly-carpeted floor. The solid mahogany of 
the table and sideboard is weighted with heavy 
plate. A demure butler in suit of black, and 
stolid footmen, move about with the stillness of 
mutes at a funeral, and, watching each longing 
mouth of the guests, who give hardly any other 
indication of vitality, keep them diligently sup- 
plied with food and drink for the successive 
courses of the protracted dinner. Long intervals 
of half-somnolence intervene, during which a few 
drawling words whispered from neighbor to 
neighbor serve to sustain the expectation of the 
less patient for the coming roast, or what not. 
Sitting far into the night, and gorged with great 
cuts from monstrous barons of beef, and deep 
potations of somniferous port, the company at 
an English dinner are not, of course, of the live- 
liest humor. A studied compliment or a set 
speech may, however, be occasionally uttered by 
an old gallant or an aspiring young orator, capa- 
ble of a spasmodic effort in spite of the general 
oppressiveness. Washington Irving, who had to THE ENGLISH DINING-ROOM. 
167 
pay for his English fame by a compliance with 
English customs, is said to have slept habitually 
at these dull symposia. 
The furniture of the English dining-room is as 
characteristic as the place itself. The sideboard 
and table are of dark mahogany of the heaviest 
build, with broad surfaces and coarse moldings. 
The chairs are no less in harmony. Being wide- 
backed, stuffed with hair, and covered with leath- 
er, they are suggestive of long sittings and sleepy 
tranquillity. 
The dining-room generally on the continent of 
Europe is a great contrast to that of England. 
The room is airy and light, as is appropriate to 
early and cheerful repasts, has inlaid and paint- 
ed floors, slightly shaded windows, often trellised 
with flowing vines, and a look-out into a garden 
or cheerful court-yard. The table and the cool 
and easily-movable chairs form the principal part 
of the furniture. The walls are either frescoed 
or tastefully papered, and the ordinary grossness 
of a table loaded with heavy joints of meat and 
great smoking heaps of boiled potatoes is avoid- 
ed by cutting and serving these at a side-table, 
or in an adjacent room, and substituting in their 
place, upon the spread, flowers and fruit and or- 
naments of confectionery. 
All really essential to a dining-room are a sol- 168 
FURNITURE OF DINING-ROOM. 
id extension-table of oak or walnut, a small side- 
board of either material, a proper number of 
cane-bottomed chairs, and a stand for the con- 
venience of the waiter while serving. The floor 
should never be carpeted, but inlaid or painted, 
and the hangings of the windows should be of a 
kind to serve merely as shades in case of neces- 
sity, and never of heavy drapery, which is sure 
to hinder ventilation, and reek with all the odors 
of the smoking-hot dinner. Some neutral color, 
of not too dark a tone, should adorn the walls; 
and their uniformity may be broken by cheerful 
pictures or prints. A friend of ours, who made 
an art classification of his own into the aesthetic 
and dietetic, and including Kaulbach's drawing 
of Lotta cutting the loaf, and the engraving of 
Rembrandt's jollification with his bride, among 
the latter, hung them both up, as we think not 
inappropriately, in his dining-room. The chief 
requisites for the place in which the daily re- 
pasts are taken are conveniency, brightness, neat- 
ness, and cleanliness; and these are more likely 
to be secured, with their accompanying moral in- 
fluences, by the simple construction and arrange- 
ment of the French and German dining-room, 
than of the English, with all its elaborate arti- 
fices and evil inducements to long sitting and ex- 
cessive indulgence. CONSCIOUSNESS OF A STOMACH. 
169 
CHAPTER XV. 
Too great Consciousness of a Stomach.-The Necessity of a 
Habit of good Living.-The necessary Number of Meals.- 
Time of Meals.-Interval between the Meals.-The Break- 
fast.-When required.-Composition of the Breakfast.- 
The Dinner.-Time for Dinner.-The Luncheon.-Its In- 
fluence on Health and Morals.-What constitutes a good 
Luncheon.-The Seriousness of Dinner.-Soup.-Fish.- 
Roast.-Necessity of Variety.-Large Joints.-Rehashes. 
-Vegetables. -Potatoes. -The Pudding. -Pastry. -Des- 
sert. 
It has been said that a man should not be con- 
scious of his possession of a stomach; not that 
every one ought to be so ignorant of the anatomy 
of his frame as not to know that this important 
organ is an essential part of his organization. On 
the contrary, the anatomical structure and physi- 
ological action of his whole body should be fa- 
miliar to each human being, that the conduct of 
his life may be guided by the laws which are 
only to be understood through such a familiarity. 
His knowledge of these laws, so far from inducing 
him to acquire an increased consciousness of the 170 
DIGESTION AND OVER-ANXIETY. 
existence of his own stomach, will, by showing 
the danger, deter him from such a proceeding. 
There is no better established law of physiolo- 
ogy than that the habit of concentrating the at- 
tention of the mind upon the action of any organ 
of the body is fatal to the proper performance of 
its functions. The stomach is peculiarly sensible 
to this mental watchfulness, and, like a shy pupil, 
always blunders in its work when under the too 
close supervision of its master. There is more 
harm done to the stomach by the over-anxious, 
with their constant fear of injuring it, than by 
the reckless with all their audacious disregard of 
danger. Many a person has spoiled his diges- 
tion by the very means he has striven to keep it 
in good condition. On the other hand, there are 
not a few who, having done apparently their best 
to destroy, have succeeded in preserving it unim- 
paired. It must not be inferred, however, that 
recklessness in eating and drinking is more fa- 
vorable to health than prudence. Physiology 
commands us to obey certain laws of diet and 
regimen, and indicates the manner of obedience. 
It is essential to comply with both. 
The daily food and drink of every person 
should be in accordance with the well-known 
principles of healthful diet. The habit should be ESSENTIALS OF HEALTHY DIET. 
171 
established, and never swerved from, of living 
properly, so that no one, as he takes his seat at 
the table and prepares to satisfy his appetite, 
need be distracted from the fullness of its enjoy- 
ment by any vexatious questions. He should 
not be forced to set up a debate in his own mind 
as to the digestibility of every bit of bread he 
breaks, or of each plate of meat set before him. 
It matters not how wholesome may be the article 
of diet, no stomach will digest it easily if its op- 
erations are disturbed by distracting doubts of 
their efficiency. Physiology has a ready explana- 
tion of this undoubted fact. Mental anxiety of 
all kinds weakens the nervous power, and, while 
lowering the general tone of the body, diminishes 
especially the power of digestion. The brain, 
moreover, is at the same time inordinately active, 
and reserves the force of nervous energy, and 
draws the blood to itself at the very moment the 
stomach chiefly requires its full supply of both. 
The easy, unquestioning consumer of his food is 
the most likely to digest it well. 
The meals of a properly-regulated domestic 
household ordinarily offer the conditions essen- 
tial to a healthful diet. The breakfast, dinner, 
and tea, or supper, are the three usual daily re- 
pasts ; and these are as many as are required by 172 
TIMES OF EATING. 
most people. Infants and children should be 
more frequently fed, as they digest with greater 
rapidity, and demand, in consequence of growth 
and development, a larger supply of food in pro- 
portion to their age. An adult, under the ordi- 
nary circumstances of prosperous life in the Uni- 
ted States, should be satisfied with three daily 
meals. These, if properly constituted, will not 
only be ample for substantial nourishment, but 
will be more conducive to good digestion and 
vigorous health than a greater number. 
The appointed time for the meals may vary 
according to circumstances, but the intervals be- 
tween them should be of uniform length. Five 
or six hours, at most, ought to be allowed to in- 
tervene between two repasts. If this rule be 
strictly followed, it will matter very little at what 
particular hour each daily meal is eaten. The 
late riser will, of course, take his first food of the 
day late, and so demand each successive supply, 
if he has a regard for the proper length of inter- 
val, at late hours. Early risers, on the contrary, 
beginning early, will continue to be early feeders 
throughout the day. 
After the long fast of the night, a healthy per- 
son is eager for food as soon as he awakes in the 
morning. lie should, therefore, wait no longer THE BREAKFAST. 
173 
for his breakfast than during the time necessary 
to perform his ablutions and perfect his toilet. 
The activity required for these simple operations 
affords quite sufficient exercise for most people, 
before taking their first meal. The brisk con- 
stitutional walk-as it is termed-on an empty 
stomach, at break of day, is of no advantage to 
any one. The most vigorous may possibly en- 
dure, but the less robust will be sure to suffer 
from it. 
The breakfast need never be a very elaborate 
meal. The morning appetite, however eager, has 
so much the unsophisticated character of natural 
hunger, that it craves for simple food. A slice 
or two of bread and a good draught of boiled 
milk, with a few spoonfuls of coffee to flavor it, 
constitute the first repast of continental Europe, 
and content, apparently, a robust and very act- 
ive population until dinner-time. The breakfast 
should be always composed of light and easily- 
digested food. A little coffee and a great deal 
of milk, with a free supply of well-baked bread, 
or such substitutes for it as hominy, oatmeal 
porridge, or other articles of a farinaceous kind, 
are all that are required for the most vigorous 
people. 
A too solid meat diet at the beginning of the 174 
THE DIXNER. 
day is a bad preparative for the early morning 
activity of the busy American. An egg or two, 
a rasher of bacon, or a small slice of cold meat, 
may be indulged in; but the hot steaks and chops, 
especially if they are improperly cooked, as they 
are apt to be at all times, and especially in the 
haste of an early breakfast, had better be kept 
for a later and more deliberate meal. 
The chief repast of the day-the dinner-is 
ordinarily taken, by people of simple habits, next 
in succession to the breakfast. If the first meal 
is eaten at seven or eight o'clock, the second 
should be at half-past twelve or half-past one. 
The more fashionable and luxurious livers gener- 
ally dine, in this country, at five, six, or even seven 
o'clock. If the dinner is thus postponed to a late 
hour in the evening, a luncheon-or something, at 
any rate, to eat-must be taken in the middle of 
the day. There is more mischief done to the 
stomach and the power of digestion during this 
interval between the early breakfast and late din- 
ner than at any other part of daily life. In the 
excitement of business, the luncheon is either 
neglected altogether, taken at irregular periods, 
or devoured with inordinate haste. Long absti- 
nence from solid food, which is so easy to a pre- 
occupied mind, and therefore frequently practiced, DANGER OF IRREGULAR EATING. 
175 
is exceedingly dangerous. Most of the vital pow- 
ers are forced into an excessive activity, while the 
one which supplies the sustenance upon which the 
strength and existence of all depend is allowed to 
remain idle, and thus prevented from performing 
its indispensable functions. It is an illustration 
of the old fable of the members rebelling against 
the belly, with the moral unchanged. 
The irregularity of the business man's lunch- 
eon is another serious danger. It is a well-es- 
tablished law of dietetics that the meals should 
be taken at fixed periods, and no food eaten at 
any other time. Nothing so weakens the power 
of digestion as the habit of picking up a snack 
here and there, as chance may offer. Even if it 
be but a bit of bread thus taken, it is not safe. 
The smallest morsel of food is apt to arouse the 
full activity of the stomach and all the digestive 
apparatus, and thus forces which are designed 
for the important work of supporting life are 
wasted upon what can only, at best, momentarily 
content a caprice of the palate. 
The luncheon, when taken regularly, is too oft- 
en, with the man of business, a meal eaten so dis- 
tractedly, and dispatched so hastily, that it is im- 
possible for the appetite to enjoy or the stomach 
to digest it. The merchant has the habit of work- 176 
A FEARFUL CONSEQUENCE. 
ing while he eats. Although he may drop the 
pen, on taking up the knife and fork, his head re- 
mains busy with his debit and credit calculations, 
lie leaves out one important item, however-that 
which is due to health. 
The neglect to cat the midday meal at all, or as 
it should be eaten, is a common cause of an im- 
moderate indulgence in strong drink, with all its 
fearful consequences of moral and physical ruin. 
It is so easy to slip in and out of a bar-room, and 
gulp down at its slushy trough the ever-ready 
draught, that many men are tempted to still the 
cravings of hunger, and support the weakness 
from long fasting, by a means which takes no 
time from the office-hours and no thought from 
business preoccupation. Many drunkards are 
formed, and persons ruined in health, if not in 
morals, by this miserable parsimony, which will 
not spare a moment from the work of the day to 
secure the happiness of a life. 
The luncheon, if it is to be taken when the 
dinner should be, ought to be a substantial meal, 
always at the same fixed time. It must never be 
slurred in favor of any of those miserable pretexts 
of the bar-room or confectionery, but made a reg- 
ular repast, to which the guest may sit down, eat- 
ing and enjoying his food deliberately. A bowl of A PROPER LUNCHEOX. 
177 
bouillon, well prepared, as it generally is by the 
French and German cooks, and a single broiled 
cutlet of mutton* or veal, with a plentiful supply 
of well-baked bread, is a very fair enumeration 
of the essentials of a proper luncheon for those 
who have breakfasted lightly, and look forward 
to a late substantial dinner. 
The dinner, as the chief repast of the day, 
ought to be regarded with a seriousness becom- 
ing so important an element of the daily life. It 
has its social and moral, as well as dietetic as- 
pects. The French, whose gastronomic j udgment 
is beyond question, tell us that the dinner should 
consist of a soup, an entree of fish, or light ani- 
mal food, a roast of one kind or another, a dish 
of vegetables, a pudding or some substitute foi* 
it, and a dessert of cheese, fruit, cake, or ices. 
This is, however, a nlore elaborate combination 
than the simpler American taste demands. 
The soup is less often seen on our tables than 
it should be. It is, however, a desirable feature 
of the daily dinner. If properly made, there is 
nothing so good to begin with. It quiets the ex- 
cessive craving of the stomach, but does not sati- 
ate the appetite. Thus, while subduing voracity, 
it at the same time leaves a sufficient eagerness 
for the more substantial food. Soup, moreover, 178 
FISH AND BOASTS. 
being absorbed readily, as most fluids are, docs 
not exhaust the digestive power required for the 
solid articles of diet. 
Fish, of which our great bays and rivers sup- 
ply so vast an abundance of the best kind, is far 
more rarely used than it ought to be by the 
Americans. It commends itself, not only as a 
nutritious and appetizing food, but as a source of 
supply, according to the chemists, of the phos- 
phorus of the brain, believed to be essential to 
the due performance of its intellectual functions. 
The white kinds of fish, such as the cod, are the 
most digestible, and no more healthful dish can 
be put upon the daily table. 
For the roast, the whole domain of flesh and 
fowl is at command; and variety is both pleas- 
ing to the palate and essential to good digestion. 
The ingenuity of the housekeeper should be con- 
stantly on the alert to vary the dishes of the din- 
ner. The English and American practice of us- 
ing large joints of meat is apt to give too great 
uniformity. The monstrous sirloin of beef, mass- 
ive loin of veal, or great leg of mutton, will last 
a small family the whole week, so that it is cut 
and comes again day after day; and often the 
Saturday dinner is but a rehash of that of the 
previous Sunday. The meat thus not only palls VEGETABLES-SALAD-BUDDING. 
179 
on the taste from sameness, bnt becomes vapid 
and innutritions from repeated cooking. 
The dish of vegetables, in the United States, is 
too exclusively composed of potatoes. Potatoes, 
if properly cooked, are an excellent food; but 
they should, for the sake of variety, at least, yield 
their habitual place occasionally to other equally 
appetizing and nutritious vegetables. The salad 
is seldom absent, at any season of the year, from 
the French and German tables, and, although in 
ill repute with us, in consequence of its supposed 
indigestibility, seems to agree with the European 
stomach. The free use of oil in the mixture of a 
salad of lettuce, or other vegetable, seems to make 
it a safer article of diet; and if eaten, not as a 
separate dish, when it is apt to be devoured vo- 
raciously, but as an adjunct to the roast, it may 
be indulged in without danger. 
The simple farinaceous pudding, especially for 
the young, is more healthful than pastry, and a 
dessert of dried or fresh fruit better than the 
elaborate preparations of the confectioner. 180 
DANGEBOUS BBOVOCATIVES. 
CHAPTER XVI. 
The best Preparative for Dinner.-Provocatives to Appetite. 
-The Danger of Stimulants on an empty Stomach.-The 
proper State of Mind before Dinner.-The Half-hour before 
Dinner.-Mutual Influence of mental Emotion and Diges- 
tion.-Social and solitary Dining contrasted.-The Length 
of Dinner.-Wine.-Its Use and Abuse.-Kinds of Wine. 
-How to be taken.-The Siesta appreciated.-Exercise 
after Dinner.- Passe de Cafe.-Petit Verre.-Tea and 
Supper.-Luxuries.-Ices, etc. 
A good appetite is undoubtedly the best pre- 
parative for dinner, as for every other meal, but 
natural hunger alone, and not any artificial means, 
should be allowed to provoke it. The prelimi- 
nary glass of sherry-and-bitters, or the fatal ab- 
sinthe, will indeed, by stimulating the stomach, 
arouse its languid powers to a spasmodic effort; 
but it quickly exhausts its energy in exciting in- 
ordinately its action. The use of stimulants to 
improve the appetite soon fails to produce the 
desired effect, and, moreover, weakens at first, 
and finally destroys, the digestion. 
When the stomach is empty, its absorbent 
power is intensely active, and any fluid put into DOMESTIC INFLUENCE ON APPETITE. 
181 
it will be immediately taken up and distributed. 
Thus the immense danger of taking powerful 
stimulants at such a time. Their effect is in- 
creased a hundred-fold, for their peculiar action 
on the brain and nervous system is heightened 
in proportion to the rapidity with which absorp- 
tion takes place. If the rule of never drinking 
beer, wine, or spirits when the stomach is empty 
should be generally adopted, there would be lit- 
tle occasion to deplore the physical and moral 
horrors of drunkenness. 
Irritability of temper, anxiety of mind, or ab- 
sorbing thought, is a bad preliminary to the din- 
ner. Every one, on taking his seat at the table, 
should be, if possible, in a mood of cheerful com- 
posure. The domestic influence is best calcu- 
lated to secure this desirable condition. By its 
gentle appeals to social companionship and af- 
fection, it distracts the mind from the preoccu- 
pations of business and the worries of daily life. 
The welcome home, the fond caress, the eager 
effort to please, the ready preparation, the fresh- 
ened aspect of every thing, all betokening expec- 
tation, and giving assurance that no zeal or af- 
fection are wanting to make a man happy and 
comfortable, are sure to conjure away from the 
darkest brain the most horrid spectres raised by 182 
BEFORE DINNER. 
the craft of the outer world. Surrounded by all 
the cheering influences of domestic enjoyment, a 
man finds himself in the best possible humor and 
condition for eating and digesting his food. 
It is always well for the busy man, who has 
hurried home to his dinner, to pause a quarter 
of an hour or so before sitting down to it. Ex- 
cessive fatigue is not favorable to digestion. 
The delay occasioned by, as well as the refresh- 
ment obtained from, a careful performance of 
one's toilet is a good preliminary. The want of 
punctuality of many housekeepers is often a cause 
of irritation, by which the appetite, as well as 
the digestion, of the hungriest and healthiest is 
spoiled. The half hour before dinner, while the 
guests are only occupied with thoughts of it, is 
said to be the longest in the whole day; and if 
the time is by any chance protracted, there is 
nothing so trying to the mortal patience, and 
well calculated to engender irritability and those 
other unamiable states of mind which are partic- 
ularly unfavorable to the health of the stomach. 
"A man's body and his mind are like a jer- 
kin and a jerkin's lining: rumple the one, you 
rumple the other." This physiological fact, thus 
applied and humorously illustrated by Sterne, is 
very apparent in the mutual influence of diges- SOCIAL AND SOLITARY EATING. 
183 
tion and mental emotion. Both brain and stom- 
ach must be free from any mutual disturbance, 
for either to perform its functions properly. 
Cheerfulness of mind is as essential to a good 
digestion, as a good digestion is essential to 
cheerfulness of mind. When the stomach is 
performing its duties, any excessive action of 
the brain is sure to interrupt them. A state of 
gentle and pleasurable excitement of the mind 
is, however, favorable to digestion. " Chatted 
food," according to the old proverb, " is half di- 
gested." With the sociability of a mixed dinner- 
company, which a well-regulated household ordi 
narily supplies, there is just the degree of mutual 
liveliness most favorable to the performance of 
every bodily function, and especially digestion. 
Solitary dining, then, should be always avoided. 
The lengthening out of the dinner, by its di- 
vision into several courses, provided each is not 
devoured as voraciously as if it were the only 
one, but the appetite is fairly apportioned among 
the whole, is favorable to enjoyment and health. 
The opportunity is thus afforded of interlarding 
the meal, during its necessary pauses, with that 
pleasant discourse which promotes cheerfulness 
and favors digestion. A full hour ought to be 
given to the daily dinner, that there may be op- 184 
IS WINE NECESSARY? 
portunity for deliberately satisfying the demands 
of conviviality as well as those of appetite. 
No one in a perfect state of health need drink 
wine or spirits of any kind when eating, or at 
other times. This perfection of health, however, 
is an ideal rather than a real state of being; for, 
among those who live the life of modern civili- 
zation, there are but very few who can be said 
to possess it. The crowding together in large 
communities, and the corruption of the air which 
ensues from this mutual closeness of contact, 
are causes which prevent the great majority of 
mankind from reaching the highest standard of 
health. Though this point, it is hoped, is being 
constantly approached, through a more strict 
and general obedience to the laws of hygiene, it 
is yet, unfortunately, very remote from the at- 
tainment of most individuals and communities. 
While large towns are allowed to reek with im- 
purities by ignorant and corrupt municipalities, 
and private dwellings are kept unwholesome by 
the perversity of their inhabitants, no one can 
find the conditions essential to perfect health. 
The individual life of modern times, from its 
excessive emotional character, is also a cause 
which tends to deteriorate the average health. 
The eagerness to become rich, the strife of com- NO GENUINE HEALTH. 
185 
petition, and the fluctuations of fortune, with the 
dissipations of luxurious living and fashionable 
habits, give rise to excitements and alternating 
depressions which lower the tone of the physical 
life. 
The modern man of civilization may be said to 
be, in consequence of his subjection to these va- 
rious causes, in a state of constant nervous irri- 
tability. This may not be actual disease, but it 
is certainly not genuine health. It is a condition 
of weakness showing, as the doctors say, a want 
of tone. Regarding, therefore, modern men as 
more or less patients requiring medical treat- 
ment, we should not hesitate to prescribe for 
many of them the moderate use of wine. The 
very condition, however, which would seem to 
call for small doses positively forbids all large 
ones; for excess is more fatal to the weak and ir- 
ritable than to any others. A small quantity of 
vinous stimulant, taken at proper times, seems to 
act as a constant preventive of that lowness of 
tone to which the nervous system of the modern 
man constantly tends-a condition especially fa- 
vorable to the contraction of disease of all kinds. 
Wine, if permitted, should be used, however, 
only as a beverage with dinner. A third of a 
bottle daily, of good sound claret mixed with an 186 
SLEEPING AFTER DINNER. 
equal quantity of water, and drunk gradually, in 
the course of the meal, will be found to act favor- 
ably upon the appetite and digestion of most peo- 
ple. A glass or two of pure Bordeaux, or even 
of a fine dry Champagne, like the " Consular 
Seal," or some other genuine brand, drunk at 
dinner, may be indulged in not only with safety, 
but advantage, when any unusual tendency to de- 
pression manifests itself. The habit of sitting 
for hours at the table, sipping, as the English do, 
glass after glass of heavy port, or brandied sher- 
ry, is a dangerous one. Wine should be drunk 
with the dinner, and never before or after. 
A practice prevails which, once indulged in, is 
very apt to be repeated-that of sleeping after 
dinner. It is a bad one, and, although irresisti- 
bly pleasing for the moment, is sure to be the 
source of much subsequent discomfort. A half 
hour's nap in the day is a poor compensation for 
the loss of several hours during the night, 'which 
is sure to be the result. The whole nocturnal 
repose, in fact, is disturbed; and any one who 
wishes to secure the full rest required during the 
twenty-four hours ought never to attempt to ob- 
tain a part of it in advance of the proper time. 
In spite of the old proverb which says, "After 
dinner rest a while," an active walk, provided the AFTER DIXNER. 
187 
meal has been a proper one, and eaten with the 
deliberation and under the circumstances already 
prescribed, will be promotive of digestion, and 
prevent that tendency to somnolency, the indul- 
gence of which is neither favorable to subsequent 
comfort nor health. 
.The after-dinner tasse de cafe, when once ha- 
bituated to its use, is not unfavorable to digestion; 
but if taken only occasionally, and at a late hour, 
by those unaccustomed to drinking it, it is sure 
to deprive them of much of the night's sleep. 
The petit verre, or little glass of brandy, or some 
strong liqueur, should never be indulged in. 
Late diners do not require the tea, or supper. 
Those who take the principal meal at an early 
hour should eat another meal before the day is 
over. A cup or two of tea, with some substan- 
tial food, as an omelette, chops, or a cut of cold 
meat, will constitute a sufficiently solid repast for 
the last of the three, which is the full number of 
meals required by the vigorous and healthy. 
Whatever luxury, such as an ice, or other con- 
fection, people are disposed to indulge in had 
better be taken immediately after dinner than an 
hour or so later; for when digestion has once be- 
gun it is not safe to interrupt its operation by 
any fresh call upon the exertion of its powers. 188 
THE SUPERFINE APARTMENT. 
CHAPTER XVII. 
The superfine Apartment.-Palaces and Mansions.-Require- 
ments of Art.-Renouncement of best Part of the House. 
-Show and Lumber Room.-Space of Parlor.-Ventila- 
tion.-Open Pires.-Sunlight.-Sydney Smith.-The do- 
mestic Dungeon.-Objects of shutting out Light.-Furni- 
ture of the Parlor.-Ceremoniousness of the Parlor.-Ef- 
fect of superfine Furniture.-Rugs and Carpets.-Parallel- 
ograms.- Bay - windows.- Pictures.-Picture - frames. - 
Engravings.-The Books of the Parlor.-Amusements of 
the Parlor. 
The superfine apartment of many of our mod- 
ern houses, ordinarily termed drawing-room or 
parlor, is an abomination to taste and common 
sense. To set apart the main portion of a struc- 
ture intended to live in, and after filling it with a 
variety of tawdry furniture'too fine for use, to 
close it hermetically, is evidently an absurdity. 
This absurdity, however, obtains so commonly 
that it may be almost regarded as national. Pal- 
aces and the imposing mansions of the rich and 
great are designed more or less for the display of 
architectural art; and the effect depends much on 
spaciousness. They have accordingly a superflu- THE PARLOR. 
189 
ity of room, which may be appropriated for pure- 
ly decorative purposes. This would be in har- 
mony with the main design of these structures; 
and no one, provided the laws of art are faithful- 
ly obeyed in the construction and ornamentation 
of a palatial hall or apartment, is entitled to con- 
demn it merely on the ground of its uselessness 
for the common purposes of life. 
The grandeur and spaciousness of the palace 
or stately mansion may, indeed, be said to have 
a practical use, inasmuch as they are more or less 
essential to the periodical show and entertainment 
exacted by society from its inhabitants. The or- 
dinary citizen, however, is under no social obli- 
gation that we know of to renounce the use of 
the best part of his dwelling-place. His wife can 
surely do proper honor to the rare visits of the 
Reverend Ignatius of her parish, and the formal 
annual call of the wife of rich Bullion, the broker 
opposite, without reserving an apartment express- 
ly for the purpose. 
The parlor, of which wo propose to discourse, 
is not the show or lumber room of fine upholstery, 
but the sitting-room of the family, and this should 
be essentially adapted to that object. The largest 
and best-situated apartment may be appropri- 
ately used for the parlor, since it is the usual ren- 190 
THE OPEN FIRE-PLACE. 
dezvous of all the inmates of the house during 
periods of leisure and enjoyment, and at times is 
the place of reception for a greater or less num- 
ber of visitors. Extent of space, as well as free- 
dom of ventilation, is therefore especially neces- 
sary to the room which must be more frequently 
thronged than any other in the house. An open 
fire-place, with blazing wood or a grate of sea- 
coal, affords an excellent ventilator during the 
winter, when almost every other means of en- 
trance or exit of air is closed, dud, if economy 
will permit, may be used, though the general 
warmth of the dwelling is sustained by the ordi- 
nary furnace. A brisk, visible fire is, moreover, 
always a cheerful object and an attractive point 
for the concentration of the family about the do- 
mestic hearth-stone. 
As we consider an abundant supply of the sun's 
light to be essential to the wholesomeness of ev- 
ery occupied apartment, we would insist more 
especially upon the freest allowance to the gen- 
eral sitting-room, where so much of the life of the 
family is passed. We heartily agree with the 
joyous Sydney Smith, who, as he burst into the 
parlor, would throw aside curtain, blind, and ev- 
ery other obstruction, and, letting in a flood of 
daylight, exclaim, " Let us glorify the room I" SUNLIGHT AND DARKNESS. 
191 
The sitting-room should always be situated, if 
possible, on the sunny side of the house, not only 
for the sake of health, but cheerfulness. There 
is in many of our modern dwellings a dark mid- 
dle chamber, between the drawing-room in front 
and the dining-room in the rear. This is not 
rarely the chosen dungeon for the self-immure- 
ment of the family. There is no more ingenious 
contrivance for torture of soul and body. It is, 
however, particularly favorable to delicacy of 
complexion and gravity of demeanor. Health 
and happiness are, of course, trifling considera- 
tions in comparison with the fashionable paleness 
of face and formality of behavior I 
The common practice of shutting out the day- 
light has, ordinarily, for its motives the saving of 
the delicacy of tint of the superfine carpets and 
hangings of the parlor, and of the complexion of 
its inhabitants, or concealing their want of it. 
We do not admit either of them to be proper. 
We have no hesitation in preferring the pure 
brightness of heaven's light to all the fantastic 
colors of Paris and Brussels art, and the natural 
ruddiness of health to the real or affected pale- 
ness of fashion. 
The furniture of the parlor, which is not only 
the family sitting-room, but the place for the re- 192 
FURNITURE OF PARLOR. 
ception of visitors, may be unquestionably of a 
choicer kind than that of the rest of the apart- 
ments. Finery, however, should always be kept 
in due subordination to utility, and we do not 
admit of chairs and sofas so gorgeous that they 
must be generally concealed from sight and se- 
cured from touch under the cover of ugly smocks, 
and carpets so delicate of tint that only the glass 
slipper of a Cinderella can safely tread upon them. 
The parlor, which may be regarded more or less 
as the school of manners of the family, is, to a 
certain extent, to be used ceremoniously. Chil- 
dren are not expected to lounge and romp in it 
with the same freedom as in the nursery, and its 
usual occupants, young and old, are supposed to 
hold themselves ever in readiness for the visit of 
a friend or a chance visitor. While, however, a 
certain formality of decorum may thus be proper, 
there should be nothing allowed to restrain the 
freedom of intercourse of the family, and prevent 
the physical ease and comfort of any of its mem- 
bers. Superfine furniture, with the ever-watch- 
ful care it enjoins, is sure to do both; it checks 
movement and stiffens the manners. The mod- 
ern drawing-room, with its vulnerable splendor 
and chilly formality, is a great discouragement 
to genial companionship and hospitality. The OUR PARALLELOGRAMS. 
193 
shams of so-called society are fitly enacted with- 
in the glare of its gilded unrealities, and those 
who tread its tinted carpets and sit upon its glis- 
tening sofas are no more the personages they 
represent than those who walk and attitudinize 
upon the painted stage of a theatre. 
We prefer large rugs or movable carpets to 
immovable ones, as they can be readily lifted for 
the sake of cleanliness, and at a moment's notice 
to give opportunity for an extemporized dance 
or a permitted romp of the younger folk. The 
arabesque patterns and combined and deep-toned 
colors of the Persian rug are, according to our 
sense of the fitness of things, more suitable to be 
trod upon than the bouquets of brilliant flowers 
and the surface of milk, on which they are seem- 
ingly afloat, of many fashionable carpets. 
The parallelograms into which the require- 
ments of the town lot have shaped most of our 
rooms leave four walls, the ugly stiffness of which 
it is difficult to break by any ingenuity of taste. 
If the builders would take our advice, they would 
never construct a. parlor without a bow or bay 
window to interrupt somewhat the necessary for- 
mality of the parallelogram. Something can be 
done, however, to mitigate the box-like arrange- 
ment of the modern sitting-room by appropriate 194 
PICTURES AND FRAMES. 
frescoing of the walls, and breaking their conti- 
nuity by pictures, statues, or brackets, and hang- 
ing book-cases. The color of the walls should nev- 
er be white. The tint (although this should vary 
according to circumstances) which seems most 
generally becoming is a light maroon, and it har- 
monizes well with the ordinary dark wood of par- 
lor furniture and paintings, without interfering 
with their effect. We need hardly say that good 
engravings are better than bad pictures. As but 
few can afford master-pieces of the painter's and 
sculptor's art, most had better confine their de- 
sires to the possession of well-executed engrav- 
ings and plaster casts, which are so cheap that 
persons even of humble means can afford to pur- 
chase them. There seems to be a growing taste 
for frames of dark wood for mirrors and pictures. 
We can not sympathize with this funereal taste, 
and we never saw either mirror or picture which 
was not seriously damaged in effect by such a 
surrounding. Gilding is indispensable in most 
cases. 
To complete the idea of the parlor as the fam- 
ily sitting-room, books for general use are requi- 
site. The library or study of the studious may 
be left, for the moment, entirely out of the ques- 
tion ; but, apart from its requirements, the parlor PARLOR DELIGHTS. 
195 
should always contain certain works, especially of 
reference-an encyclopedia, gazetteer, atlas, dic- 
tionaries of various languages, a few of the stand- 
ard classics, and a Shakspeare, above all-that 
there may be at hand a means of settling at once 
the various literary and scientific questions which 
are sure to arise in every family of ordinary in- 
telligence. A small book-case, then, so filled, 
must be a part of the furniture. The photograph 
album, the port-folio of sketches, the chess and 
checker boards, and other permissible games and 
sources of diversion, are, of course, indispensable 
in that habitual resort of the family, as we regard 
it-the parlor. 196 
ACTION OF MIND ON BODY. 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
Influence of Mind on Body.-Exciting and depressing Emo- 
tions.-Death of John Hunter.-Death from Joy.-Effects 
of Laughter.-An Eastern Apologue.-Effects of Fear.- 
A British Expedition.-Dying of a broken Heart.-The 
Health of the House.-How affected by Influence of Mind 
on Body.-Influence of domestic Affections.-Cowed Chil- 
dren.-Vague Ailments of Women; Cause.-Social Life 
of the House.-The Father at Home.-His Power.-A 
Master of the Revels.-Sympathy of Wife and grown 
Children.-Social entertainments.-Fashionable Parties.- 
Story of an English Ambassador.-Burning Bank-notes.- 
Display of fashionable Party.-Appreciation of the Guests. 
Any one who observes the tears flowing from 
the eyes, the blood rushing to the face, and the 
limbs trembling, in grief, shame, and fear, sees, 
and can not fail to recognize, the influence of the 
mind upon the body. There is not a mental emo- 
tion which is not accompanied or followed by 
some corporeal manifestation. 
The actions of the mind, relatively to their ef- 
fect upon the body, may be divided into exciting 
and depressing. The former are beneficial or 
hurtful according to their degree; but the latter EXCITING EMOTIONS. 
197 
are always injurious. Anger, a pre-eminently 
exciting emotion, is known to have been frequent- 
ly fatal to life. The celebrated surgeon, John 
Hunter, was so conscious of his peculiar suscep- 
tibility to the bodily effect of mental emotion, that 
he frequently said that the first fit of anger would 
kill him. His prediction proved true: vexed, one 
morning, on entering his hall, that the usual prep- 
arations for his lecture had been neglected, he 
could not control bis temper, and fell dead in an 
outburst of passion. In Hunter's case, it is true, 
there was previously a disease of the heart, which 
made him more liable to the consequences of ex- 
cessive excitement; but this is always injurious, 
and may prove fatal to people in perfect health. 
Persons have been known to die even from ex- 
treme joy, although, probably, in such cases, it 
was always suddenly and unexpectedly aroused, 
and the fatality was due rather to the shock of 
surprise than to the special emotion excited. 
The exciting emotions which are pleasurable, 
such as joy and hope, are of a kind that seldom 
tend to a dangerous excess, and may be regarded 
as exercising generally an eminently healthful in- 
fluence upon the body. Hilarity is a great re- 
fresher and strengthener of life. Its ordinary 
corporeal expression, is peculiarly favorable to 198 
GOOD INFLUENCE OF MIRTH. 
health. Laughter is a wholesome exercise, which, 
beginning at the lungs, diaphragm, and connected 
muscles, is continued to the whole body, " shaking 
the sides," and causing that jelly-like vibration of 
the frame of which we are so agreeably conscious 
when under its influence. The heart beats more 
briskly, but with a safe regularity of action, and 
sends the blood to the smallest and most distant 
vessel. The face glows with warmth and color, 
the eye brightens, and the temperature of the 
whole body is moderately raised. With the uni- 
versal pleasurable sensation there comes a dispo- 
sition of every organ to healthy action. When 
hilarity and its ordinary expression of laughter 
become habitual, the insensible perspiration of 
the skin is increased, the breathing quickened, 
the lungs and chest expanded, the appetite and 
digestion strengthened, and nutrition consequent- 
ly increased. The old proverb, " Laugh and grow 
fat," states a scientific truth. The influence of 
laughter upon the body is recognized by Shaks- 
peare, in his description of the " spare Cassius "- 
"Seldom he smiles." 
"To be free-minded and cheerfully disposed at 
hours of meat, and sleep, and of exercise, is one 
of the best precepts of long lasting." Such is BROKEN HEARTS. 
199 
the testimony of Lord Bacon to the favorable in- 
fluence of the pleasurable emotions upon the body. 
The depressing emotions, such as fear, anxiety, 
and grief, are always fatal to health, and frequent 
causes of death. There is an Eastern apologue 
which describes a stranger on the road meeting 
the Plague coming out of Bagdad. " You have 
been committing great havoc there," said the 
traveler, pointing to the city. "Not so great I" 
replied the Plague. "I only killed one-third of 
those who died; the other two-thirds killed them- 
selves with fright." Depressing emotions pre- 
dispose the strongest and most healthy bodies to 
diseases of all kinds, and especially to those of 
a contagious, infectious, and epidemic character. 
During the British expedition to Walcheren, the 
soldiers, while there was a hope of success, were re- 
markably healthy, but no sooner* was failure mani- 
fest than there hardly remained a well man in the 
ranks, and the mortality became fearfully great. 
Dying of a broken heart is no mere poetical 
exaggeration. Sorrow and disappointment have 
been frequent causes of death, and not only by 
their generally depressing influence, but by act- 
ing on the heart with a direct effect. Habitual 
anxiety or sadness is as unfavorable to the pres- 
ervation as to the enjoyment of life. 200 
HEALTHFULNESS OF DOMESTIC AFFECTION. 
The influence of mind upon body will be found 
to have an important bearing upon the physical 
health of every household. It should never be 
lost sight of in the conduct of a family. The do- 
mestic affections, although there is a much high- 
er motive for their cultivation, should, merely as 
a means of hygiene, be carefully nurtured. The 
cheerfulness and gentle emotions which are en- 
gendered by all the kindly relations between the 
various members of a family are just those pleas- 
urable excitants of the mind which are most fa- 
vorable to the healthy actions of the body. The 
strictness of domestic discipline must be temper- 
ed by affection, and faults corrected, not with the 
violence of temper, but the calm judgment of 
duty. Many a child has had his body fretted 
into disease by a mind kept in constant terror by 
the ever-impending blow of a severe parent. The 
cowed child is never a healthy one. Freedom of 
life in every respect is essential to vigor of de- 
velopment. Childhood requires the encourage- 
ment of an over-present confidence in the love of 
those upon whom its helplessness makes it de- 
pendent. If forced to shrink at every moment 
from the severe eye of authority, and hide itself 
on the first sound of an approaching footstep, the 
child will be sure to be a timid, puling, and weak SYMPATHY IN MARRIAGE. 
201 
creature, to whom fullness and strength of growth 
are impossible. 
Many of those vague ailments which afflict 
womankind may be attributed to mental causes. 
Their effects are visible enough in the early fad- 
ing of beauty, the wasting of the body, and the 
rapid decay of all the vital powers. That com- 
panionship and sympathy so eagerly sought foi' 
in marriage, but, alas! found so often wanting, 
are essential to the happiness of every loving 
wife. -The sadness of disappointment on missing 
them is, we are persuaded, a frequent cause of 
the ill health of married ■women. The excessive 
solitude to which the wife is often condemned by 
the long absence of a husband devoted to busi- 
ness, or by his anxious abstraction during his 
rare presence, is a life so different from that ex- 
pected by the sanguine bride, that the sensible 
heart of woman must realize it with a shock like- 
ly to shatter both mind and body. 
The social life of the house, which may be more 
especially regarded as that of the parlor, is an 
obvious means of regulating the influence of 
mind upon body favorably to health. The fa- 
ther should never allow business, and much less 
any frivolous distraction of club conviviality or 
other kind, to keep him habitually from his ap- 202 
THE FATHER AT HOlHE. 
pointed place in the parlor during the usual pe- 
riods of family gathering. lie should come from 
his daily occupation as free from its cares as pos- 
sible, and meet his wife and children with a heart 
ready to respond, in fullness of sympathy, to the 
overflowing welcome he receives. They claim 
him now for their own, and he ought not to re- 
fuse to devote himself to a service so affection- 
ately demanded and unquestionably due. It re- 
quires no great resources for a father to interest 
his family. His mere presence gives content- 
ment, and awakens those gentle impulses of love 
and affection which constitute the charm of do- 
mestic life. An approving smile encourages hope 
and gives confidence; a tender word allays anx- 
iety and subdues grief; a nod represses rising 
passion, and an uplifted finger settles a quarrel. 
A parent, however, of the least intelligence and 
culture need and ought not to be content with 
this passive influence. He should exert himself 
actively to» entertain his family. He should con- 
stitute himself, as it were, the master of the rev- 
els, romp with the little ones, if need be, direct 
their plays, narrate his pleasing experiences with 
the great world, the reminiscences of his own 
childhood, and the adventures of travel, and read 
aloud those books of imagination, fancy, and DOMESTIC FRANKNESS. 
203 
striking fact and incident, which are so interest- 
ing to youth of the smallest intelligence. Excit- 
ing their merriment, arousing and satisfying their 
curiosity, provoking and cultivating their taste 
for the wonders of science and the conceptions of 
literature, the father will thus not only make his 
children more cheerful, happy, and intelligent, but 
healthier. When the day has closed upon the 
little ones, and they are put to bed, in a gentle 
fervor of delight and contentment, they lie down 
soothed by vanishing images of joy and happi- 
ness which, lightened by the glow of paternal af- 
fection, lead them on to the blissful realms of 
sweet and refreshing slumber. 
To the wife and grown children the husband 
and father should impart the experiences of his 
daily life, that they may sympathetically share 
with him in its triumphs and defeats. lie need 
not dwell upon every carking care and worrying 
meanness which, more or less, ruffle the smooth- 
est temper in its contact with the miscellaneous 
and uneven world, but he will be happier himself, 
and render those about him happier, too, if he 
keeps not too close to his own breast the corrod- 
ing secrets of disappointment and misfortune in 
business. Many a man, by his reticence toward 
his own family, has nursed and strengthened a 204 
HOSPITALITY. 
canker as destructive of health as of happiness, 
that wanted only the salve of connubial or filial 
affection to deprive it of all its malignancy. 
Social as well as domestic entertainment may 
be regarded as a special part of what we have 
termed the parlor life. Genuine hospitality, and 
the reception of visitors, should be cultivated and 
encouraged; but what is ordinarily called party- 
giving, with its waste of money and dissipation 
of health, can not be commended to any prudent 
householder. The late hours, stifling atmosphere, 
and excess in eating and drinking, which are in- 
separable from the fashionable party, are risks to 
life to which no judicious parent will expose him- 
self or his family. The prodigality, moreover, of 
expending in a single night what might be the 
means of diffusing a refined enjoyment over a 
whole year, is an absurdity which the folly of 
fashion alone will be found to justify. 
A good story is told of an English ambassador 
at the court of Naples. He gave an evening par- 
ty, the excellent taste and delights of which were 
appreciated by every guest present. It became 
known, however, that the entertainment, the 
charms of which no one refused to acknowledge, 
had been got up at a very small expenditure of 
money. Thence the gossips, forgetting the great BURNING BANK-NOTES. 
205 
pleasure it had given, and only mindful of the 
small sum it had cost, busily talked of the cheap- 
ness of the entertainment and ttie parsimony of 
the giver. This reaching the ambassador's ears, 
he sent out invitations to the same people who 
had been present at his first charming but inex- 
pensive party to come to a second at his hotel. 
The evening arrived, and the guests, in full antic- 
ipation of a brilliant display, gathered; but lo! 
there was no preparation made for the expected 
entertainment. The host, however, presented 
himself, and was soon followed by a servant bear- 
ing a lighted alcoholic lamp. The ambassador, 
with no more ado, took from his pocket a hand- 
ful of bank-notes, and, throwing them into the 
blaze, said to his assembled guests, "There! 
Are you satisfied?" and dismissed them to their 
homes. 
His excellency had evidently, on the first occa- 
sion, in providing for his guests a refined enjoy- 
ment, totally misconceived the spirit of modern 
entertainment. lie, however, showed, on the sec- 
ond, with a quick perception of his former error, 
a just sense of the social obligations of a host as 
now interpreted by the fashionables of our day. 
His blazing bank-notes, as they squirmed in the 
fire and went off in smoke, and the gaping guests 206 
MODERN PARTIES. 
looked on in stupid amazement, are as perfect an 
illustration as possible of the relation between 
the modern entertainer and the entertained. All 
givers of a fashionable party seem striving to 
surpass their competitors in the quickness and 
publicity of burning bank-notes, and their guests 
crowding to behold and have their wonder ex- 
cited by the prodigality of the sum wasted. 
Wasting bank-notes, however, whether burned 
directly in the blaze of an alcoholic lamp, or indi- 
rectly consumed in the extravagant and senseless 
dissipation of a modern entertainment, is not 
hospitality. The profusion of flowers, suddenly 
wrenched from a culture of months of skill and 
labor, to lose their bloom and waste in a night 
their swyeet odors for those who have no sense of 
appreciation but an arithmetical one-the prodi- 
gal supply of elaborate delicacies and rare wines 
to surfeited appetites-costly upholstery for rude 
hands to derange and test with a tradesman's 
computing touch of price and value-and all the 
exorbitant display and destruction of costly ma- 
terial-are not to cherish a sentiment of friend- 
ship or a refinement of taste. The bill of the 
confectioner, the bill of the florist, the bill of the 
wine-merchant, and the bill of the upholsterer, 
paid in full and exhibited in public, though it REQUIREMENTS OF FASHION. 
207 
might be often difficult to show them under such 
a favorable condition, would, provided they were 
large enough-and the accomplished tradesmen 
of New York can readily effect this-in reality 
answer all the requirements of a modern fashion- 
able party. These would more clearly exhibit 
the cost-which is all that seems to be wanted- 
than if left to the appreciation of the guests, 
many of whom, however, it must be acknowl- 
edged, are not wanting in a practical and ready 
appreciation of the market prices of dry goods 
and groceries. 208 
THE LIBRARY. 
CHAPTER XIX. 
The Library.-Books and Book-cases.-Furniture.-Easy- 
chairs.-Light.-Diffused or concentrated Light?-The 
Strength of the Eye.- Musca Volitantes.-Influence of 
general Disease upon the Eyes.-How to protect the Eye. 
-Irritated Lids.-Short-sightedness.-Long-sightedness. 
-Young People's Sight.-Old People's Sight.-How to 
choose Spectacles. 
IT is a cheering proof of the general recogni- 
tion of the importance of books, that no modern 
house of the least pretensions is without an apart- 
ment appropriated expressly for keeping and pro- 
fessedly using them. The library, so called, is 
not always, it is true, as may be pretended, a 
place for reading and study. 
The suddenly made rich and uncultivated man, 
in building his new house, resolves that it shall 
have the completeness of a grand mansion, and 
gives Lis orders to the architect, not to satisfy 
such tastes as he may possess, but to absorb the 
large sum of money he is willing to spend for 
the display of his newly-gotten wealth. lie will 
have, he declares, all that dollars can pay for, and, PRESENCE OF BOOKS. 
209 
of course, his new house "must not be without a 
butler's pantry and a library," which, though in 
reality they have no more conne'ction than the 
" Paradise Lost " of Milton and a sirloin of beef, 
he associates together as the essential appurte- 
nances of a dignified residence. The library, 
however, though its richly carved book-cases may 
be as indiscriminately filled as the dusty shelves 
of a street book-stand, is not without its good ef- 
fect. Books seem to exercise a refining influence 
by their mere presence, though they may never 
be read. We may grant that the master of the 
house seeks only his library as the quietest place 
wherein to doze over his newspaper or sleep off 
the effects of his heavy dinner, and that his splen- 
didly bound volumes are in reality no nearer to 
him than the gilded cornices of his ceiling, yet 
the apartment and its contents are a desirable 
possession. The children are brought up with 
the consciousness, at least, that there are such 
things as books, and a place nominally provided 
for the study of them, and it is presumed that, 
with a better opportunity of education, they will 
have a livelier sense of the proper use of both 
than their unappreciative and somnolent sire. 
All houses of sufficient extent to admit of it 
should have a room set apart for a library. This 210 
REQUIREMENTS OF LIBRARY. 
ought not to be that stately apartment, perpetu- 
ally smelling of morocco, varnish, and new carpet, 
of many fashionable mansions, which, with its 
richly carved rose-wood, plate-glass, and book 
backs of gilt, is kept to exhibit to company as 
one of the series of show-rooms in which the 
proprietor of the house delights to display his 
money's worth. 
According to our notion, the library should be 
essentially a room for use. This, indeed, should 
be of an especial kind. As study and reading 
are the purposes of the library, it should be re- 
served for these, and none of the other occupa- 
tions and diversions of the family ought to be al- 
lowed to interfere with them. Nothing is more 
favorable to the acquisition of the habit of using 
books than having them of easy access, and col- 
lected together in a place convenient for their pe- 
rusal. In ordinary families the library, as we 
call it, or study, as it may be termed, might be 
used, under proper regulations, as a place for the 
youthful members of the family to prepare their 
lessons set for them at school and college, and 
should have all the conveniences they may re- 
quire. 
The literary, scientific, or professional man will, 
of course, have his library to suit his particular CARE OF BOOKS. 
211 
purpose. His books and the apartment which 
contains them are like the tools and workshop of 
a mechanic, and are to be adapted more or less to 
his special vocation. Our general remarks are 
therefore, of course, less applicable to his require- 
ments than to those of others. The library we 
have in view is essentially a family one. The 
room appropriated to the purpose should be spa- 
cious, properly ventilated, and particularly well 
lighted. As it is chiefly intended for books, it 
would be well to select an apartment with broad, 
unbroken walls, that there may be sufficient space 
for the cases to contain them. If practicable, the 
library should have a window, or windows, at 
both ends, and but one door. Open shelves are 
better than closed cases. In all real libraries the 
books are exposed without glass or other cover, 
so that they may be conveniently got at without 
any preliminary fumbling with a key at a lock, 
than which there is nothing more trying to a man 
in the heat and impatience of research. There 
can be little risk in thus exposing books, or the 
book-seller and the librarian would not habitually 
do so with their valuable stocks and collections. 
The freest circulation of air is essential, in fact, 
to the preservation of books from the effects of 
moisture and damage from worms. The cases, 212 
THE SHAMS OF THE LIBRARY. 
accordingly, had better be open, and always kept 
a short distance away from the wall. All the 
protection ordinary books require may be secured 
by means of strips of cloth tacked to the edge of 
each shelf. This will prevent the accumulation 
of dust. Judicious use is, after all, the best pre- 
servative ; but if the contents of tire library are 
only kept for show, it will be necessary to treat 
them with all the nursing care required by any 
other fine furniture. 
Books themselves are always the most interest- 
ing and becoming objects for the eye to rest upon, 
especially in a library. All concealment, therefore, 
of them by means of drapery, or any other con- 
trivance of the upholsterer, is inappropriate, and 
contrary to every dictate of good taste. When 
we behold any thing of the kind, we have imme- 
diate suspicion of a sham. We recall to mind 
how once we eagerly opened the plate-glass doors 
of a book-case draped with beautiful pink satin, 
radiating in glistening pleats from a central sun 
of gilt, in expectation of finding some choice liter- 
ature worthy of being thus magnificently embalm- 
ed. The doors yielded quickly to our impatient 
haste, when, lo and behold, we don't know how 
many white pots of jam, all in a row, stared us in 
the face! These were undoubtedly creditable il- COLD FEET. 
213 
lustrations of the housewifery of the dame of the 
mansion, and delectable specimens of their kind, 
but they were not the sweets which we were in 
search of. 
The book-cases, which are the chief furniture 
of a library, are much more convenient for use 
when they are made only so high that the upper- 
most shelf may be within easy reach of the out- 
stretched arm. When thus constructed low, they 
moreover offer good foundations for statuettes 
and busts, and have a more tasteful effect. 
A table with a solid hold upon the floor, a 
broad cloth-covered surface, and numerous easy- 
sliding drawers, a few well-cushioned chairs, and 
a thick carpet or rugs, are the chief requirements 
of the library, in addition to the books and the 
cases which contain them. Most students, how- 
ever well-warmed may be the apartment in which 
they work, are liable to suffer from coldness of 
feet. Instead of attempting to refhedy this by 
raising to an excessive degree the general tem- 
perature of the room, it is better to make special 
provision for the warmth of the feet by having a 
fur skin of some kind or other for them to rest 
upon. In case of protracted study or writing, it 
is well to vary frequently the posture of the body, 
and therefore we would recommend, in addition 214 
THE RIGHT LIGHT. 
to the library table, a standing desk, or pult, as it 
is called by those most persistent of students, the 
Germans, who universally use it. 
It is a common mistake, we think, to employ 
concentrated instead of diffused light for night- 
work. Where necessity compels the economy 
of a single lamp, it is no doubt better to have 
■a shade to confine its limited brightness to the 
point where it is especially required by the eye. 
Where, however, no such motive prevents a free 
supply of artificial light, the more complete and 
diffused it is, thd better it will be, both for clear- 
ness of vision and the health of its organ. 
The eye, which is called a delicate organ, can 
endure a great deal of work; but though it may 
be freely used, it ought never to be abused. En- 
gravers, microscopists, and others, who employ 
their eyes constantly on the minutest objects and 
in the strongest concentrated light,have continued 
their occupations for a long series of years, with- 
out any more manifest failure of sight than was 
due to the natural effect of age. Dr. Donne, a 
French physiologist of some repute, declares: 
"For my part, I have conducted microscopical 
observations to an excess during many a long 
night, under the brilliant light of a Cartel lamp, 
in order to study the transformations of the in- EYES OF READERS. 
215 
fusoria, or discover the vibratory cilia by which 
they move; and when, in the morning, I said to 
myself that my sight must necessarily be fatigued, 
and put on, in consequence, blue spectacles to give 
it repose, I soon found that the precaution was 
unnecessary, and that my eyes had not suffered 
in any respect." 
There are certain dark points and filaments, 
called musccn volitantes, which occasionally flit 
before the eyes, particularly when looking at a 
white surface or an object brightly illuminated. 
These often give great alarm, but quite unneces- 
sarily, since they arc no indications of weakness 
or approaching disease.* Most people can have 
these muscce volitantes at their will by merely di- 
* "The vitreous humor, optically speaking, is not pure. 
Small granular or wavy forms, which all of you at times have 
seen hovering within your field of view, and which pursue so 
many a hypochondriacal man on his summer-trip to a water- 
ing-place, are occasioned by shadows thrown on the retina by 
a partial, delicate opaqueness in the vitreous humor. Those 
bodies are so light as only to be perceptible either in certain 
effects of light, or on a peculiar1 exertion in the straining of 
the attention. By a simple experiment it is possible to make 
every person acquainted with these guests of his field of view, 
the so-called mouches volantes; only one must be prepared 
for those formerly overlooked, but, once honored with atten- 
tion, never again stirring from their post."-Sight and the 
Visual Organ, by A. Von Gkaefe. 216 
AFFECTIONS OF THE EYES. 
reeling their attention to them, which seems to 
prove that their existence is natural, although not 
generally observed. 
Most of the ordinary ailments of the eye are 
produced by some disorder of the body, and the 
best safeguard against the local affection is care 
of the general health. Washing the eyes care- 
fully, and opening them in the water, is sure to 
strengthen and protect them against disease. The 
edges of the lids are frequently a source of trou- 
ble, from being irritated by cold or other causes. 
The exudation which gathers and thickens upon 
them should be gently softened with warm water, 
and its accumulation prevented by a slight appli- 
cation of sweet-oil or mutton-suet, before going 
to bed. 
All oculists are now agreed in recommending 
the use of glasses as soon as the want of them is 
discovered. 
Short-sightedness and long-sightedness are de- 
pendent upon conditions of the lens of the eye, 
which are organic, and are not to be removed, 
but only alleviated, by artificial means. Short- 
sighted people are often told that they possess 
stronger eyes than others; but this is by no 
means true, and they should not presume upon 
this unfounded idea. The habit in youth of read- SPECTACLES. 
217 
ing with imperfect light, and consequently placing 
the eyes too closely to the letters, is a dangerous 
one, and will tend to produce that organic change 
which finally results in short-sightedness. Old 
people must not neglect too long the hints of time, 
but resign themselves, as soon as age indicates, 
to the aids it requires. The concave spectacles 
of the short-sighted and the convex ones of the 
long-sighted are to be chosen according to the 
facility they give in seeing. This is only to be 
found out by experiment. Glass after glass must 
be tried on small print, and that selected which 
seems most easily to endow the sight with its 
natural power at a convenient distance. 218 
COOKS AND COOKING. 
CHAPTER XX. 
The Devil's Imps.-Hope for their Salvation.-Morals and 
Masonry.- Good Cooks and good Kitchens.- Under- 
ground Kitchens.-Pantries and Store-rooms.-Sinks and 
Water-supply.-Dresser and its Ornaments.-A separate 
Room.- Spoiling Servants.- A Nation of Wasters.- 
Good Things thrown away.-Tripe.-Heart.-Cow's-heel. 
-Cock's Comb.-Bad Cooking.-Large Fires.-Cooking- 
ranges.-What a Handful of Charcoal does in France. 
It must be, we suppose, because the truth of 
the proverb, "The devil supplies the cooks," is 
taken for granted, that such infernal quarters are 
often provided for them. When tortured by the 
dyspeptic agonies which are easily traceable to 
their perversion of the good things of this life, 
and suffering from the dispensation of the various 
evils which they seem to delight in inflicting upon 
mankind, it is not hard to believe in the demoni- 
acal origin of most of our cooks. It is, however, 
well worth our while, as we are at their mercy, to 
make the attempt to turn them from their vicious 
ways. This, difficult as it may be, is presumed 
to be possible; for, as Uncle Toby thought there 
was a reasonable hope for the salvation of even GOOD KITCHENS. 
219 
Satan himself, it may be inferred that there is a 
fair chance for the conversion of his imps of mis- 
chief in our kitchens. We shall find that by bet- 
tering their ordinary places of abode, and sur- 
rounding them by all the best appliances for 
good, a tendency to this much-desired result will 
be effected. 
It is a well-established fact that human charac- 
ter and conduct are greatly dependent upon the 
material life of the being. Pure air, clear light, 
a proper dryness of the atmosphere, and a well- 
regulated temperature, exercise not only a whole- 
some effect upon the body, but a beneficial in- 
fluence upon the mind. Energy, docility, and a 
cheerful performance of duty, are dependent upon 
the very air that is breathed. Morals and ma- 
sonry are thus closely connected, and a badly- 
constructed house or room may, in shutting out 
the pure breath of heaven, close in the heart 
against the best influences of the virtues. 
To have good cooks, we must have good kitch- 
ens. These require to be not only provided with 
all the essential implements of the necessary 
handiwork, but to be made comfortable, cheer- 
ful, wholesome, and convenient abodes for those 
who are forced to spend most of their daily life 
in them. 220 
REQUIREMENTS OF THE KITCHEN. 
It is a misfortune, we think, that, by the ordi- 
nary mode of building houses in this country, the 
kitchen is made more or less an under-ground 
apartment. It is thus generally difficult to secure 
that supply of air and light especially necessary 
for a room where there must be a superabun- 
dance of heat at all seasons, and an accumulation 
of various odors to be got rid of, and the delicate 
manipulation of the work requires the clearest 
vision. The kitchen, being placed below the rest 
of the house, has, moreover, the signal disadvan- 
tage of tending to poison, with its reeking odors, 
the atmosphere of the whole building. It should 
be situated, if possible, on the ground-floor, and 
contiguous, but not subjacent, to the main struc- 
ture, and, for convenience' sake, closely connected 
with all the domestic offices, pantries, store-rooms, 
larder, laundry, and scullery, if the importance of 
the mansion should admit of such extensive ap- 
purtenances. The sinks and water-supply ought 
never be too remote, and it will be convenient to 
have a special coal closet or cellar nearer at hand 
for the cook than the large general depository for 
fuel. 
The kitchen should be of a simple and regular 
construction, free from hidden corners and all 
kinds of nooks favorable to deposits of dust and KITCHEN APPURTENANCES. 
221 
dirt and the encouragement of slatternliness. 
The storing away of refuse vegetables, bones, 
and grease, for the benefit of the expected "swill" 
or "soap-fat" man, is a dangerous practice; for 
the corruption of such matter generates a variety 
of ill odors, and poisonous gases enough to infect 
the whole house and cause the most fatal diseases. 
No cupboards or closets ought to be allowed. A 
dresser with exposed shelves above and broadly 
opening drawers below is all that is requisite for 
convenience. This should be made of unpainted 
white wood, in order that it may invite a daily 
scrubbing with soap and hot water, and be all 
the better for it. The floor of the kitchen might 
be of white tiles, and should never be covered 
with matting or any thing like a carpet. The 
best ornaments are ranges of well-polished tins, 
bright coppers, clean plates, and a general purity, 
neatness, and order. 
Where the house is of a size to admit of it, a 
room apart from the kitchen should be appropri- 
ated for the use of the cook and other servants 
during their meals and temporary moments of 
relief from work. This room should have every 
homely comfort and convenience; and though the 
fears of anxious housekeepers may be aroused lest 
their servants should be "spoiled," we venture 222 
AMERICAN WASTEFULNESS. 
the suggestion that a shelf of suitable books be 
provided for their use. Among them there might 
be, in addition to the treatises on Cookery and 
such-like, a few works of simple instruction and 
diversion. So far from " spoiling servants," of 
which our susceptible ladies of the house are so 
fearful, it is a sure means of improving them. By 
such opportunities of reformation and moral ele- 
vation they will acquire aptitude for their work 
and willingness to perform it, and we shall have 
more docile, contented, faithful, and intelligent 
servants. 
Even during our days of comparative poverty, 
we, as a people, were at no time restricted in the 
use of the necessaries of life. The fertility of a 
new and extensive country always kept the sup- 
ply of food in advance of the demand of a limit- 
ed population. Having enough and to spare, we 
became, naturally, a nation of wasters. Our 
teeming fields once yielded a harvest so much 
beyond* the wants of a scanty and glutted popu- 
lation, that the very grain of which bread is made 
was burned as fuel! There was no occasion, in 
those times of superfluity, to practice economy, 
and we consequently knew very little if any thing 
about it. With a change of circumstances, how- 
ever, and the greater assimilation, in consequence, GOOD THINGS THROWN AWAY. 
223 
to the condition of older nations, it has become 
necessary to exercise, like them, a more careful 
thrift. 
There is in the United States a great deal of 
unnecessary waste of food. There is enough 
substantial nutriment thrown away in this coun- 
try to sustain a population of many hundred 
thousands. It is not necessary to go to the 
Western prairies, where countless herds of buffa- 
loes are allowed to die and to rot, the carcasses 
of which might keep whole nations from starving: 
the markets and kitchens under our own nose 
will supply us with abundant proofs. There are 
many articles rejected, ordinarily, by Americans 
as food which by foreigners are esteemed, and 
justly so, as most choice and nutritious. With- 
out committing ourselves in favor of filet of horse, 
stew of cat, or rat au riz, we think that the ex- 
ample of both the French and Chinese might be 
followed to some extent with advantage. We 
have a wide choice of hitherto untouched articles 
of food before we are reduced to the necessity of 
transferring our roadsters from the stable to the 
spit, and our domestic favorites from the fireside 
to the stew-pan. 
How many parts of certain animals, about the 
eatableness of which there can be no question, 224 
FISH. 
are rejected by American feeders ! It is seldom 
that any of them will touch, for example, tripe, 
which, properly prepared, is one of the most di- 
gestible and nutritious articles of food. There 
is, again, the beef's or calf's heart. The Ameri- 
can gorge is, generally, so fastidious as to rise at 
this, which, cooked as it should be, makes a deli- 
cious repast, that, with the eyes shut, can not be 
distinguished from roast hare or grilled'grouse. 
We doubt whether there are many native-born 
Americans who have ever heard of cow's-heel. 
This, however, is a tidbit worthy of the palate of 
an Apicius. It is easily prepared, and as readily 
digested. It is made, as its name indicates, of 
the hoofs of cattle, and is a delicate jelly-like sub- 
stance, which no one who can be persuaded once 
to taste refuses to eat. There is also the comb 
of fowls, which in Paris is deemed a luxury fit 
to place before the fins bees, or fastidious gour- 
mets, of that luxurious capital. Where is there 
the American cook who ever thought of making 
any other disposition of this than throwing it out 
with the feathers and other exuviae on the waste- 
heap ? What an unnecessary and wasteful dis- 
crimination we make in regard to fish ! There 
are many species of these which are palatable and 
wholesome, but are entirely rejected. The skate, BAD COOKING. 
225 
for example, is a familiar article of diet in Eu- 
rope, but is seldom tasted here. The frog, more- 
over-why should it be left merely as a bonne 
bouche for connoisseurs ? Its delicacy and whole- 
someness no one who has ever eaten it questions. 
It is not only that in this country we are di- 
rectly wasteful by refusing to eat what we might, 
but also most prodigal in the mode of consum- 
ing what we generally feed on. Bad cooking 
not only renders food difficult of digestion, but 
deprives it of much of its nutriment; and who 
can estimate the immense waste for which our 
ignorant and prodigal cooks are responsible? 
Millions of dollars are annually frittered away in 
the frying-pan, which is the favorite mode of 
cooking in the United States, but known to be 
the least economical and wholesome. 
Much of the ruinous waste of American kitch- 
ens is due to the unnecessarily large fires used. 
From traditional habit and ignorance, our cooks 
persist in thinking that a great conflagration is 
necessary to be got up for even the smallest din- 
ner, and will raise as much of a blaze to broil a 
single lamb chop as to roast a whole ox. This 
may be somewhat due, perhaps, to the peculiar 
construction of the American cooking-range. It 
has always been a surprise to us that the stove of 226 
FUEL-SAVERS. 
the French has not been adopted, who contrive by 
its means to broil a cutlet, boil a soup, or stew 
a ragout at the shortest possible notice, with the 
smallest quantity of fuel. A handful or so of 
charcoal suffices in France for the essentially good 
cooking of an ordinary family, while in America 
bushels of coal are burned for the essentially bad. COOKING. 
227 
CHAPTER XXI. 
Skill in Cooking.-Raw Articles of Diet.-Healthfulness of 
thorough Cooking.-Science of Cooking.-The great Es- 
sential of a good Cook.-Preliminaries to Cooking.-Keep- 
ing Meat.-Boiling.-Soup and boiled Meat.-Roasting.- 
The Inefficiency of Chemistry.-Taste and Science.-Proc- 
ess of Roasting explained.-Broiling.-Prying.-Stewing. 
-Salt Meat.-Cooking Vegetables.-How to cook a Po- 
tato.-Tea and Coffee: how made.-Pastry, wholesome 
and unwholesome.-Vessels and Utensils of the Kitchen. 
-Death in the Pot. 
It is not enough to have good raw material for 
food, and an abundance of it, but skill is required 
for its preparation, that it may not only be agree- 
able to the taste, but digestible and nutritious. 
The fruits are the only articles of diet, suitable to 
man, which can be consumed as nature produces 
them. The aid of art is necessary to render all 
others palatable and fit for human sustenance. 
There are various productions of a vegetable ori- 
gin which require, it is true, but little previous 
preparation; but these even must be made into 
salad and condiments by processes more or less 
artificial, and they are only used as subordinate 228 
THE NECESSITY OF COOKING. 
parts to the main repast, to which they serve to 
give additional flavor. 
A practice prevails with some nations, especial- 
ly the German, of consuming animal food which 
has not undergone the ordinary processes of the 
kitchen. They are thus said to eat their ham 
and herrings raw; but it is not so; for by the 
smoking and pickling to which they are always 
subjected before eaten, they arc cooked, though 
in an imperfect degree. The acknowledged in- 
digestibility of such articles, and the horrible 
malady* of which they are known to be the 
cause, prove how essential thorough cooking is 
to the healthfulness, if not to the palatability, of 
all animal food. 
The principles of science applicable to cookery 
are few and simple; and as they only confirm the 
experience of careful observation, our cooks need 
not study chemistry to become proficients in their 
art. They have merely to exercise their senses 
diligently, and give heed to the results they indi- 
cate, and they will find out all that is essential to 
* A disease of small worms which are introduced into the 
human system by eating meat, especially pork, infected with 
them. The high temperature of thorough cooking is the only 
sure means of destroying these worms, and rendering the food 
which contains them innocuous. PRELIMINARY- PROCESSES. 
229 
good, plain cooking. Attentiveness is the most 
important of all the qualifications of a cook. The 
acknowledged skill of the old negro Venuses of 
the Southern kitchens may be largely attributed 
to the fact of their being such fixtures to the 
hearth-stone. They were not distracted from 
their work by constant love-passages with Pom- 
pey and Ciesar, who were kept busy in the field, 
and not allowed to cross the threshold of the 
massci's kitchen. They were very unlike our 
Northern Bridgets, who are turning away every 
moment from the spit to greet a loving soap-fat 
man, or some other admiring compatriot. A 
dinner, to be well cooked, must be well watched; 
and during the whole process the cook should be 
chained, as it were, to the fireside. 
All meat, before being cooked, should be sub- 
jected to certain preliminary processes. Fish 
and the water-fowl, such as wild duck, woodcock, 
and snipe, can hardly be cooked too fresh; but 
flesh, properly so called, should always be kept a 
certain time before it is exposed to the fire, that, 
its fibres becoming relaxed, it may be rendered 
more tender. The time of keeping it is, of 
course, to be regulated according to the season 
and temperature, but it should never be prolong- 
ed to the beginning of decomposition. The prac- 230 
PREPARATION OF MEAT. 
tice of hanging up wild fowl, venison, and other 
game, until the flesh has hardly tenacity enough 
to hold together, and emits an odor which seems 
to attract the appetite of the epicure but is re- 
pulsive to those of natural taste, is an unwhole- 
some one. No food which has once undergone 
putrefaction can be healthful. In winter, meat, 
if preserved in a dry, cold place, and suspended, 
is better for being kept a week, or even ten days 
or more, after it is killed. In summer, too, it 
need not be cooked much sooner, provided its 
corruption can be prevented by ice, in direct con- 
tact with which, however, it should never be 
placed, as the maceration by constant moisture 
will make it vapid to the taste, and deprive it of 
much of its nutritious quality. All meat, in fact, 
before cooking, should be well dried, and only 
washed when it is to be boiled, and never if 
cooked in any other way. When the flesh is cut 
in such a shape as to admit of it, a good beating 
with the rolling-pin will be found to be an excel- 
lent preparative, and no steak or chop should be 
put on the fire without such casti- 
gation. 
Boiling is, of all cooking processes, the easiest 
and most general. It, however, notwithstanding 
its simplicity and universality, is often ill per- SOUP OB MEAT? 
231 
formed. Meat can be boiled for either making 
soup or obtaining a good dish of solid food. 
Cooks are very apt to delude themselves with 
the idea that both may be consummated by one 
process, and .that from the same pot they can 
have, simultaneously, a supply of nutritious broth 
and a well-cooked piece of meat. This is an er- 
ror. It is impossible to get the two together. 
The soup must be sacrificed to the meat, or the 
meat to the soup. The process for obtaining one 
is essentially different from that for making the 
other. They are, in fact, diametrically opposed; 
for what is best for the soup is worst for the 
meat, and conversely. The cook must clearly de- 
cide either for the one or the other, before begin- 
ning the boiling process. If the object shall be 
a good soup, cut up and put your meat in cold, 
water, apply the fire, raise the heat gradually to 
the boiling point, and then boil it well and long. 
By this means alone can all the nutritious and 
savory qualities of the meat be thoroughly ex- 
tracted, and the desired result, a palatable and 
substantial soup, obtained. As for the solid resi- 
due, it will be as tasteless as a trodden-out slip- 
per, and hardly more fit for food. 
If, on the other hand, you wish to obtain a 
well-cooked piece of meat, put it whole in boil- 232 
PROCESS OF BOILING. 
ing water, and keep it on the fire, never allowing 
the temperature to fall a moment for five minutes 
or so. After this time, reduce the temperature 
by adding cold water, and, withdrawing the pot 
partly from the hot coals, allow it to simmer un- 
til it is ready to serve. You will thus have a 
dish of solid food containing all its natural flavor 
and nutriment. As for the liquid contents of the 
pot, they may be emptied anywhere except into 
the hungry stomach, for they are no better adapt- 
ed for satisfying the wants of appetite than so 
much dish-water.* 
* The technical explanation of the effects of boiling meat 
is given in this extract from the Journal of Chemistry : 
" The most economical way of using meat is to cook it in 
hot water, and serve it up in its own gravy. If it is boiled 
for preparing soup, the water should not be too quickly raised 
to the boiling point, since this tends to coagulate the albumi- 
nous portions and to prevent the juices from passing into the 
water. The meat should be chopped, or cut as fine as possi- 
ble, and steeped for some time in cold water, which should 
then be gradually heated up to a temperature not exceeding 
150 degrees Fahr., or 62 degrees below its boiling point. At 
the last moment the soup may be allowed to reach the boil- 
ing point. The bones should be crushed or broken up into 
small pieces, and boiled, or rather simmered, for eight or ten 
hours, in order thoroughly to extract their nutritive matter. 
"Soup contains the greater part of the saline matter, with 
the creatine, creatinine, and kindred compounds, some of the SAVORINESS OF FOOD. 
233 
Boasting, though more of the nutritious prop- 
erties of the meat are lost by it than by boiling, 
is generally preferred, in consequence of the in- 
creased savoriness obtained. The flavor of the 
food is always an essential element of its health- 
fulness; and if this is not agreeable, it is in vain 
albumen and fat, and an amount of gelatine, that depends 
upon the duration of the boiling process. Cold water extracts 
from one-sixth to one-fourth of the weight of the solid constit- 
uents of the meat; and this watery extract contains nearly 
all the savory, saline, and crystalline ingredients. After long- 
continued boiling, meat becomes a hard mass, composed of 
tough, muscular fibres, the areolar tissue connecting them, 
and parts of the nerves and blood-vessels. This is difficult to 
masticate, more difficult to digest, and so devoid of flavor 
that it is impossible to tell from what animal it came. As 
Liebig remarks, even a dog will reject it. 
" If we wish to cook meat in such a way as to preserve the 
maximum of nutriment in the most digestible form, we should 
place it in large pieces in boiling water, and keep it there for 
five minutes. The high temperature coagulates the albumen 
at the surface of the meat, stops up its pores, and thus pre- 
vents the juices from escaping. After this boiling of five 
minutes, add cold water to reduce the heat to about 150 de- 
grees Fahrenheit, and keep it at that temperature until the 
meat is sufficiently cooked. It will then be found to be ten- 
der, juicy, savory, and nutritious. Salted meat intended to 
be eaten cold should be allowed to cool in the water in which 
it has been boiled." 234 
BOASTING. 
for chemistry, weighing and measuring the com- 
ponent parts of any article, and finding a heavy 
balance in favor of its nutritious qualities, to 
commend it to the use of man. The laboratory 
will never become a substitute for the kitchen. 
There is a force that confronts the human ma- 
chinery of digestion too subtle for the minutest 
analysis of the chemist, and too capricious to sub- 
mit to his precise laws, but which the cook is 
obliged to study, and strive to gratify in all its 
vagaries of impulse. The taste has its demands, 
so importunate that no philosophy can safely re- 
sist them. 
Roasting being such a favorite mode of cook- 
ing, it becomes more necessary that it should be 
well performed. The process is simple enough, 
but requires, particularly, that attentiveness 
which is deemed the most important quality of 
the cook. The joint of meat, it matters not of 
what kind, should be placed, as soon as it is ready 
for the spit, close to a glowing fire of hot coals, 
and kept there, with constant basting to prevent 
burning, for about ten minutes. This is necessa- 
ry for the same reason that, in boiling, the meat 
is first plunged into boiling water, to solidify* the 
* The chemists explain this scientifically by saying that the 
albumen of the surface of the meat is coagulated by the heat. PHILOSOPHY OF BROILING. 
235 
outside and render it impenetrable by the juices 
within, so that these may be prevented from es- 
caping, and all the natural nutriment and flavor 
be retained. When this first process has been 
duly performed, the meat should be withdrawn 
to such a distance from the fire that it may roast 
but slowly and gradually until it is thoroughly 
well done. What is ordinarily termed rare, but 
properly raw, meat is never wholesome food. 
For steaks and chops, broiling is in every re- 
spect a better process of cooking than frying.* 
It produces a much more palatable and whole- 
some dish. To broil well, it is necessary to have 
a very glowing fire of hot coals, free as possible 
from smoke and ashes. In this process, too, as 
in roasting and boiling, the strongest heat should 
at first be applied to all sides of the meat, that 
the whole surface may be, as it were, solidified, 
and the internal j uices retained. 
Frying, though bad for meat, will continue to 
be a favorite mode of cooking for some articles 
of food, which it renders very savory, and, if 
* "Frying is the worst possible mode of cooking meat, es- 
pecially for persons whose digestive powers are not vigorous, 
as it almost invariably develops a very acrid substance known 
as acroleine, and sundry fatty acids that are nearly as un- 
wholesome."-Journal of Chemistry. 236 
HOW TO FRY. 
properly performed, not unwholesome. The or- 
dinary mistake in frying is not using fat enough 
for the process. Every experienced cook is aware 
that if little only be used, the result is a greasy 
compound; but if so much that the article to be 
cooked can be entirely covered with it, it being 
at the same time in a state of brisk ebullition, the 
original food retains all its natural flavor, without 
the least smack of oiliness. The grease in which 
it is fried being very hot and abundant, acts at 
once upon the whole surface, and, closing its 
pores by coagulation, prevents itself from enter- 
ing into the substance. On the outside only it 
forms a thin, crisp shell, free from all liquid unc- 
tuousness, very savory to the taste, and not diffi- 
cult of digestion. 
Stewing is a process of cooking much used, 
since it is well adapted to meat in small portions, 
and therefore very convenient. It is generally 
acceptable, moreover, to the taste, and, if proper- 
ly conducted, not unwholesome. Flesh, if stewed 
slowly, and its juices retained, by closing the ves- 
sel in which it is cooked, makes a nutritious dish. 
All superfluous fat should be removed, and an 
excess of water avoided, the natural gravy of the 
substance being allowed to supply the liquid es- 
sential to the stewing process. Meat that has COOKING OF VEGETABLES. 
237 
not been cooked before is, of course, more nutri- 
tious than a rehash of what has been previously 
served. The repeated cooking of the same meat, 
however favorable to economy of money, is less 
so to that of enjoyment and health. 
Corned and salted meat should be used rarely, 
only to give that variety of diet so demanded by 
the caprices of taste, and, in fact, by the require- 
ments of health. It can not, however, healthful- 
ly compose the exclusive diet of man for any 
length of time; for the salting process deprives 
flesh of much of its nutritious quality, and of 
certain constituents which seem essential to the 
blood. A continued diet of salt meat gives rise, 
as is well known, to scurvy, unless a free supply 
of fresh vegetables is combined with its use. 
Before cooking salted flesh, it should be first well 
soaked in fresh water, and then boiled, like any 
other. 
Vegetables are rarely sufficiently cooked in this 
country. Cooks seem more anxious to present 
for the table a good-looking than an easily di- 
gestible dish; and consequently, in order to pre- 
serve the green color and original form of the 
vegetable, they avoid thorough boiling. Most 
vegetable food, particularly that of the cabbage 
kind, contains, in its raw state, a very acrid and 238 
HOW TO COOK A POTATO. 
poisonous element, known to the chemists as sul- 
phureted hydrogen. This can only be got rid of 
by the long-continued application of heat at a 
high temperature. The cabbages of every vari- 
ety, cauliflowers, turnips, carrots, and such-like, 
must be thoroughly well boiled, to render them 
■wholesome articles of food. 
The potato has become such an essential part 
of every-day diet, that it might be supposed that 
no one could be ignorant of the proper way of 
preparing it for food. It is, however, very rarely 
well cooked, simple as is the process. After peel- 
ing or washing thoroughly, the potatoes - for 
they can be cooked with or without the skins- 
should be put in cold water on the fire, and al- 
lowed to boil for about half an hour. Then the 
water must be all poured off, and a vigorous toss- 
ing for a minute or so given to the pot. This 
steams as well as dries the potato thoroughly, 
and, loosening its fibres, gives it that mealiness 
so agreeable to the taste and favorable to diges- 
tion. All vegetables should be well drained of 
superfluous water before serving. This is essen- 
tial to good flavor and easy digestibility. 
In making tea or coffee, two points are to be 
particularly regarded. The water, in the first 
place, must be always on the boil at the very mo- GOOD PASTRY. 
239 
ment it is brought in contact either with tea or 
coffee. This is only to be secured by first heat- 
ing the vessels in which the infusion is to be 
made. If the hottest water is poured into a cold 
pot, its temperature will at once be reduced be- 
low the boiling-point, and it will have no longer 
the power of fully extracting the qualities of the 
tea or coffee. Secondly, to have the full flavor, 
it is essential to drink the infusion as soon as 
made; for if it is allowed to stand, the aroma, 
which is very delicate and fugitive, will escape. 
By infusing tea and coffee too long, moreover, 
the bitter and astringent principles which they 
contain are extracted, and the beverage becomes 
disagreeable to the taste and unfavorable to 
health, often producing constipation, and other 
dyspeptic symptoms. 
Pastry, if properly made, may take its place, 
but it should be a very subordinate one, in the 
daily diet of the family. The so-called rich tart 
of the confectionery is more wholesome food than 
the ordinary plain domestic pie, which, from its 
usual mode of making, is apt to be heavy and in- 
digestible. Pastry, to be good, should be rolled 
again and again ; for it is by the process of fre- 
quent working that it becomes light. The En- 
glish mode of making the pie without the under- 240 
POTS AND KETTLES. 
crust, is better than the American one with it, as 
this becomes sodden from moisture, and very dif- 
ficult of digestion. Paste for boiled puddings 
should always contain a portion of suet, and never 
lard or butter. The cooking of pastry, whether 
by baking or boiling, must always be continuous 
and thorough. 
The cook, it need hardly be said, must keep 
all her vessels and utensils scrupulously clean. 
This is to be done not only to avoid offending 
the nice fastidiousness of every decent feeder, 
but for health's sake. Whenever milk is used, 
especial care must be taken, not only by thorough 
washing and wiping, but by long exposure to air 
and sunlight, to free the vessel which is to con- 
tain it from the least suspicion of its former con- 
tents. A fermenting particle remaining, though 
so minute as to be imperceptible to the acutest 
sense, will be sufficient to corrupt almost instan- 
taneously the largest quantity of milk, however 
pure, with which it may be brought into contact. 
The pots, and other utensils of the kitchen, 
should be made of iron, tin, earthenware, and 
wood. Copper, if used, must have an internal 
coating of tin, which should be carefully watched, 
lest any break in its continuity might expose the 
food to the action of the poisonous metal. No DEATH IN THE POT. 
241 
dangerous substances of any kind should ever be 
allowed to obtain admission into the kitchen. It 
is so easy to take a pinch of white arsenic in- 
stead of salt, if they have been inadvertently 
brought into proximity to each other, and sprin- 
kle death into the pot, that a cook, who has every 
one's fate, more or less, between her thumb and 
forefinger, can not be too careful. 242 
THE SICK-ROOM. 
CHAPTER XXII. 
An impotent Conclusion.-The Necessity of a Sick-room.- 
The Duties of the Householder.-Ventilation of Sick-room. 
-Requirements of Sick-room.-Open Windows.-Night 
Air.-Temperature of Sick-room.-Fire and open Win- 
dows.-Sunlight.-Furniture of Sick-room.- Reminders 
of Sickness.-Curtains.-Walls.-Carpets or Rugs.-Beds 
and Bedding.-Cleanliness.-Artificial Odors.-Disinfect- 
ants.-Note. 
It seems but an impotent conclusion to a work 
on " The Health of the House," which professes 
to teach the means by which disease may be pre- 
vented, to close it with a treatise on the sick- 
room. 
It is confidently believed that, if the principles 
inculcated in this book were generally adopted 
there would be little occasion for making provi- 
sion in any dwelling for the sick. The author, 
however, is not so sanguine, with all his faith in 
the power of man to protect himself against dis- 
ease, as to suppose that people are ready at once 
to submit to the conditions, easy and intelligible 
as they may be, essential to an end so desirable. MUTUAL DANGER. 
243 
There is not merely the obstinate attachment, 
on the part of most individuals, to traditional and 
unwholesome modes of living to be overcome, but 
there are certain malignant influences, only within 
the power of the community in its corporate ca- 
pacity to control, to be counteracted. Even if 
men generally were rational enough so to govern 
their conduct of life as to free it from all self-in- 
curred dangers, it would be still exposed to risk 
from any single fool or ignoramus. We can 
not, with all our exclusiveness, isolate ourselves. 
Wise and foolish, rich and poor, clean and dirty, 
all necessarily mingle their breaths together. The 
contaminated air of the hospital will mix with 
the perfumed atmosphere of the lady's boudoir, 
and the exhalations of the polluted body of the 
dying wretch of the gutter rise and wither the 
blooming frame of the palace Beauty, in spite of 
all the protecting folds of her luxurious coverings. 
Conceding therefore, that, unfortunately, in 
most dwelling-houses, however well conducted, 
there will be occasional diseases, even of a severe 
character, it is well for every housekeeper to know 
something about their management. In the treat- 
ment, as in the prevention, of disease, the private 
judgment must be often exercised, and without 
any risk of interference with the special vocation 244 
BEFORE THE DOCTOR COWES. 
of the physician. There is always a period, at 
the outset of every malady, before the doctor 
comes, or can come, when it is necessary to know 
how to act, or to refrain from acting. During 
this preliminary time, and also in the course of 
all serious diseases, the unprofessional person is 
called upon to perform duties demanding more 
or less knowledge of a special kind, which it be- 
hooves him to acquire. 
The doctor who, on entering a bed-chamber in 
which lay a sick man stifling in an atmosphere 
polluted by the poisonous emanations of his own 
diseased body and the breathing of a throng of 
officious friends, thrust his cane through pane af- 
ter pane of the closed window, mad as he was 
supposed to be, could not have done a more ra- 
tional thing. If abundance of pure air is essen- 
tial to the preservation of life, it is still more 
necessary for the cure of disease. The sick not 
only contaminate the atmosphere which surrounds 
them, as do the well, by the exercise of their natu- 
ral functions, but give off, in addition, from their 
lungs and skin, certain morbid products which 
are exceedingly deleterious, not only to them- 
selves, but to others who may be exposed to their 
contact. The sick-room should, therefore, be es- 
sentially a thoroughly well-ventilated apartment. VENTILATION OF SICK-CHAMBER. 
245 
A sick person, whatever be his malady, should 
be kept apart, as far as possible, from the rest of 
the household. lie should have a bed-chamber 
exclusively appropriated to his use; and if the 
house admits of it, it would be well to reserve 
one always for the purpose. This, moreover, 
should be, in every respect, what is ordinarily 
regarded as among the best. Extent of space, 
abundance of windows, and a good exposure, are 
indispensable. There must be plenty of room, 
not only as one important means of securing a 
pure atmosphere, but that all the other require- 
ments of the sick person may be satisfied without 
fear of jostling or annoying him by the presence 
of others, made too conscious to his morbid sen- 
sibility by closeness of contact. 
The windows afford the best means for venti- 
lating the sick-chamber; and these, we have no 
hesitation in declaring, should never be closed. 
The window should be opened at the upper part; 
and the extent of an inch or so is all that is req- 
uisite when the weather happens to be cold or 
stormy; but this may be indefinitely increased 
in the hot season. Communication between the 
sick-chamber and outer air is as necessary at 
night as by day, and the window should, conse- 
quently, be kept more or less open during both. 246 
TEMPERATURE OF SICK-CHAMBER. 
The air of the night, of which old women make 
such a bugbear, is even purer and more healthful 
to breathe than the air of the day, since it is less 
contaminated by the ordinary operations of busy 
man. 
The temperature of the sick-room can always 
be kept, by means of a fire, at the proper degree, 
■which should be generally 60° Fahrenheit, though 
it may require occasionally to be a little more or 
less, according to the nature of the disease. It 
is apt to be supposed that fresh air and a fire are 
in their nature so mutually opposed, that where 
one is let in, the other must be put out. This 
notion has, by depriving the sick of pure air, or 
necessary warmth, stifled or chilled many a poor 
wretch to death. Let your fires blaze, if fires 
are required, and open your windows at the same 
time; for there is no other means so effective for 
securing that purity of atmosphere essential to 
the safety and recovery of health. 
The aspect of the sick-room should be such as 
to receive the direct rays of the sun, the influence 
of which not only cheers the mind, but tends 
powerfully to restore the health of the body. 
The furniture of the sick-room ought never to 
be so great in quantity and size as to embarrass 
movement or prevent frequent and ready clean- FURNITURE AND HANGINGS. 
247 
ing. An appearance of bareness, however, must 
be avoided, lest the taste and sense of comfort of 
the sick, who are apt to be exceedingly fastidious, 
be offended. All special reminders of the condi- 
tion of the patient, such as ranges of labeled 
phials, covered vessels, and the various utensils 
of sickness, should be removed, as much as pos- 
sible, out of his sight. Every demonstration, in 
fact, of particular provision for, and attentiveness 
to, the patient serves only, by reminding him too 
acutely of his infirmity, to discourage hope and 
retard convalescence. In fact, the sick should be 
treated as much like the well as their peculiar 
condition will allow. 
Heavy curtains and drapery of all kinds likely 
to interfere with the free circulation of the air, 
the admission of light, and to harbor dust, dirt, 
and impurity of any sort, must be banished from 
the sick-room. The walls should never be pa- 
pered. Paint* and whitewash are the best cov- 
erings, since they can be thoroughly cleaned and 
renewed, if it be necessary, as in case of infec- 
tious or contagious disease. Removable rugs 
are infinitely better than any fixture in the shape 
of matting or carpet. Bare floors, if painted, oil- 
* "The best wall now extant is oil paint. From this you 
can wash the animal exuviae."-Miss Nightingale. 248 
THE SICK-BED. 
ed, or lacquered, as in Germany, are still more 
advantageous. 
Miss Nightingale says that every sick person 
should have two beds in his room, and each be 
occupied alternately every twelve hours. Iron is 
the best material for the bedstead, and, of course, 
horse-hair for the mattress. A very wide bed* 
does not add to the comfort of the sick, while it 
has the disadvantage of preventing ready access 
on the part of attendants. It should also be low; 
never, in fact, higher than a sofa. Two beds al- 
low of the thorough drying and ventilating of 
the mattress and coverings during the twelve 
hours each is alternately vacated; and nothing is 
more conducive to the cure and comfort of the 
sick than frequent purification of their coverings. 
The best material for bedclothes is the light wool- 
en blanket; and no coverlets of close texture or 
other kind of impervious covering should ever 
be used for either the sick or the well. The pil- 
low ought to be so wide as to support the upper 
part of the chest and shoulders, as well as the 
head; for the oppressed patient especially re- 
quires every facility for breathing. 
Attention to cleanliness, great as is its impor- 
* Three and a half feet is the width recommended by Miss 
Nightingale. THE BEST DISINFECTANTS. 
249 
tance in health, is more important still in disease, 
since sickness of all kinds not only generates filth, 
but thrives in it. All kinds of dirt, accordingly, 
should be removed at once from the sick-room. 
No masking, by means of artificial odors, of noi- 
some stenches, or ingenious contrivances for hid- 
ing offensive products, should be adopted, but 
every thing that is polluting must be got rid of 
at once. Plenty of fresh air, combined with the 
heat from a good fire, is the best means of puri- 
fying the atmosphere which surrounds the sick. 
In ordinary ailments, the fire-place and windows 
are all the apparatus requisite for keeping the 
sick-room in a wholesome condition. 
In certain infectious and contagious diseases, 
it may be necessary to resort to the use of disin- 
fectants, as they are called; and there can be ob- 
tained at every drug shop various chemical prep- 
arations for the purpose, with which housekeep- 
ers should not fail to supply themselves. The 
best disinfectants of all, however, are found in 
every house. Heat, air, and water, when prop- 
erly applied, will deprive most substances of 
any infectious quality they may have acquired. 
Clothes of the bed and person which can not be 
conveniently washed should be exposed for at 
least an hour to air raised to the temperature 250 
DISINFECTANTS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 
of 300° Fahrenheit. Linen, and other material 
which may admit of the process, should be boile.d 
in water, and thoroughly washed with soap.* 
* Dr. Edward T. Wilson, of England, has published a card 
with the title of " Disinfectants, and How to Use them," from 
which the following directions have been taken : 
DISINFECTANTS. 
(A.) Carbolic Acid : Poison.-A wine-glassful well mix- 
ed with half a pint of warm water, for use in night-stools, 
sinks, water-closets, or for wetting a sheet to hang in the door- 
way. A wine-glassful to one and a half pint of water, for 
washing walls, furniture, etc. Diluted with 2000 times its 
bulk, for street watering. 
Carbolic Acid Soap.-Eor the hands. 
McDougall's Powder.-.A combination of sulphite of mag- 
nesia and tar acid. 
(B.) Chloride of Lime must be kept dry. 1 lb. to a 
gallon of water, for utensils, sinks, water-closets, drains, etc. 
1 oz. to a gallon of water, for linen, -which must not be left 
long in the solution before being wrung out in fresh water, as 
it is corrosive. 2 oz. to a gallon, for washing furniture, etc.; 
but it is apt to leave dampness. 
(C.) Chlorine Gas.-Poisonous, and irritating to the 
lungs, when in excess. 
For an occupied Room.-Close fire-place, windows, etc., as 
directed under F. Pour over a quarter of a pound of black 
oxide of manganese in a dish, placed high, half a pint of mu- 
riatic acid (spirit of salt), and leave for G hours. It bleach- 
es, and is apt to make white-limed walls sweat-useful for 
cabs. DISINFECTANTS. 
251 
(D.) Condy's Fluid.-A tea-spoonful to a pint, or a 
wine-glassful to a gallon of water, for utensils, sinks, floors, 
etc., for gargling, washing the hands, for baths, for adding to 
drinking-water, and for linen, which should be well soaked, 
and then wrung out in clean water: if allowed to stand for 
a very few minutes in solution of this strength, it is discolored.* 
When the pink color is lost, the fluid is inert. The solution 
useful for vaporizing in an occupied room. 
(E.) Green Copperas (sulphate of iron).-1 lb. thorough- 
ly dissolved in a gallon of water, for drains, etc. A tea-cup- 
ful of this solution should be poured into the utensil before 
each time of using, and half a pint down the water-closet after 
each visit. 
(F.) Sulphurous Acid Gas : Poison. 
For unoccupied rooms.-When windows and fire-place have 
been securely fastened with paper and paste, in order to 
make the apartment as air-tight as possible, break from half 
a pound to a pound of brimstone into small pieces, mix with 
some live coals in a pipkin, or on a saucepan lid, supported 
over a bucket of water by a pair of tongs, close up the door, 
and leave for five or six hours. Clothing should be spread 
out on ropes, etc. It bleaches, and is apt to turn into sul- 
phuric acid, which renders clothing damp and rotten. 
Other Disinfectants.-Charcoal, Dry Earth, Quicklime, 
Chloralum, Perchloride of Iron, Chloride of Zinc (Sir W. 
Burnett's Fluid-a wine-glassful to two and a half quarts of 
water, for general use: Poison), Chloride of Soda-a tea- 
spoonful to a pint, for soaking linen-Chloride of Potass (Eau 
de Javelle'). 
* To remove stain, steep, before drying, in water containing salts 
of sorrel, 1 oz. to the gallon. 252 
USE OF DISINFECTANTS. 
HOW TO USE THEM. 
For basin to spit into, D.*-To receive dirty rags, etc., if 
they can not be burned, D or B. 
For gargling, washing, etc., and personal use, D; also for 
vaporizing, to cleanse and freshen the air. Not poisonous 
when diluted. Carbolic toilet soap for the hands. 
For impure drinking water.-Boil, or filter through char- 
coal, or add solution of D, until it retains a faint pink color. 
For utensil or bed-pan.-E or B or A to be added, on each 
occasion, before using them. 
For water-closet, sinks, etc.-B or A or E. Some to be 
poured down whenever used, and an extra gallon occasionally. 
For cleansing foul air in occupied rooms.-Fresh air and D 
(vaporized). 
For linen.-Soak well in D or B, or in chloride of soda, but 
do not leave long before transferring to clean, and, if possible, 
boiling water. 
For woolen clothes, bedding, etc.-Hot air. Burn useless 
and inexpensive articles which can be spared. 
For unoccupied rooms, F or C, followed by thorough scrub- 
bing with soap and water. White liming. 
For Cabs, C or F. 
For washing furniture, floors, etc., D or B or A. Soap 
and water. 
For a decomposing body, sprinkle with McDougall's Pow- 
der, or pour Sir W. Burnett's Fluid over before closing the 
coffin. 
* The letters refer to paragraphs on the opposite page, where the 
necessary directions will be found. Their order denotes the au- 
thor's preferences. SICK-ROOM. 
253 
For offensive heaps of refuse which can not be removed, 
cover two or three inches deep with charcoal, quicklime, or 
dry earth. 
For offensive drains, ditches, etc., B (1 lb. disinfects 1000 
gallons of running sewerage) or D, or perchloride of iron. 
N.B.-Carbolic acid and sulphuric acid gas go well togeth- 
er, but should not be used with the other disinfectants, such 
as condy, chlorine, and the chlorides. 
IX THE SICK-ROOM.- FRESH AIR, LIGHT, AND CLEAN- 
LINESS. * * 
Remove every thing superfluous, and hang before the door, 
outside, a sheet kept well wetted with D or A. Avoid stuff 
dresses. * * * 
Keep within reach a basin with D to spit into, and remove 
all handkerchiefs or rags immediately, and disinfect or burn. 
In scarlet fever, oil the body, when the skin is peeling, 
twice daily, and use warm baths, with soap. 
Bodies of persons who have died of infectious, contagious, 
and epidemic diseases should be kept carefully apart from the 
living, and buried without delay. * * * 254 
A HOUSEHOLD ENEMY. 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
An Enemy of the Household.-The Family Medicine-chest. 
-Youthful Tortures.- Faith in the Medicine-chest, and 
its Consequences.-Danger of Drugs.-Common Colds: 
Treatment.-Sore Throat: Treatment.-Coughs: Treat- 
ment.-Constipation : Treatment.-Colic.-Pains in Stom- 
ach and Bowels: Treatment.-Diarrhea and Dysenteries: 
Treatment.-Dangerous Diseases.-How indicated.-Man- 
agement.-Dyspepsia: Treatment.-Eruptive Diseases.- 
Scarlet Fever.-Small-pox.-Measles: Treatment.-Hoop- 
ing-cough : Treatment.-Rheumatic Pains: Treatment.- 
Fainting.-Hysterics.-Fits : Treatment.-Ear and Tooth 
aches : Treatment.- Chilblains : Treatment.- Cramp : 
Treatment. 
There is no worse enemy to the health of a 
household, and more dangerous one, for it is in- 
sidiously introduced under the guise of friend- 
ship, than the family medicine-chest. Who can 
not recall the reverence with which that solemn 
box, formal and ponderous, yet sightly, from the 
neatness of its structure and the polish of its ex- 
terior, was once regarded by all ? The old un- 
locked it with the cautious respectfulness due to 
a treasure, and the young looked upon its range 
of cut-glass bottles and variegated boxes, with THE MEDICINE-CHEST. 
255 
mystic labels and here and there a terrific warn- 
ing of "Poison," and trembled. Every young- 
ster might well tremble as he glanced at that 
store of bodily torment, from which he had suf- 
fered in the past, and was sure to suffer in the 
future. The disgusts of taste, and the writhings 
of the stomach, in the pains of a purge and the 
agonies of a vomit, were always associated, in 
the minds of the young, with that awful medi- 
cine-chest; but its very terrors seemed to height- 
en their reverence. Who ever heard of a boy, 
dare-devil as he might be, that ventured to lay 
sacrilegious hands upon that tabernacle, sacred 
to the household gods ? 
Such was the faith in the family store of med- 
icine, that few cared to trouble themselves about 
avoiding the causes of disease, since they so con- 
fidently believed that they possessed the means 
of curing it. Prudence in living was disregard- 
ed, and excess of all kinds indulged in, under the 
belief that illness was the fate of man under any 
circumstances, and the medicine-chest the or- 
dained means of bodily salvation. The smart- 
ing toe and swollen joint never seemed to sug- 
gest to the gouty guzzler the necessity of un- 
corking fewer bottles, and closing his mouth to 
superfluous dainties, but merely the expediency 256 
THE INEFFICACY OF DRUGS. 
of looking up his phial of colchicum, or some 
other grand restorative to be found in his do- 
mestic treasury of drugs. The very children 
became unusually presumptuous, and reckless of 
danger. Taught to place unbounded confidence 
in the contents of the medicine-chest, and sure 
of being dosed with them, they were afraid of 
no risk. The power of unripe apples and un- 
derdone pastry seemed nothing in comparison 
with the potency of rhubarb and castor-oil, and 
boys certain of the wholesome pains of the drug, 
did not care to refrain from the dangerous de- 
lights of the forbidden fruit. 
It is to be hoped that this unbounded confi- 
dence in the efficacy of drugs is passing away. 
It would be well for the health of every fami- 
ly, and certainly an infinite relief to each palate 
and stomach in it, if all the medicine-chests were 
thrown into the sea. Mankind would undoubt- 
edly be the better, although the fishes, as Dr. 
Holmes has said, might be much the worse for 
the operation. 
All that can be done safely in the treatment of 
any disease by an unprofessional person may be 
done without the use of any drug whatsoever. 
All sick people, whatever may be their maladies, 
require chiefly repose of mind and body, pure HOUSEHOLD REMEDIES. 
257 
air and warmth, and attention to their instinct- 
ive wants. All other requirements may be sat- 
isfied by the resources of any ordinary house- 
hold, without having recourse to the apothecary's 
shop. In directing, therefore, the management 
by the family of the most common ailments like- 
ly to afflict any member of it, there will be a stu- 
dious avoidance of the recommendation of drugs, 
since the hap-hazard application of them by the 
unscientific is not only useless, but dangerous. 
In a popular treatise like this it is impractica- 
ble to employ any classification of disease based 
upon the distinctions of science. The various 
ailments will, consequently, be noted and re- 
marked upon as they may be suggested by their 
greater or less familiarity or frequency of occur- 
rence, and sometimes according to the alphabet- 
ical order in which their usual appellations pre- 
sent themselves. 
In common colds, where there is no indica- 
tion, from unusual heat of the skin, or increased 
quickness of pulse, of fever or inflammation, lit- 
tle, if any, especial treatment is required. Laen- 
nec, the great French authority on the diseases 
of the chest, never advised any other treatment 
for a simple cold than a glass of hot punch or 
wine on going to bed; 'and this mode is un- 258 
A COMMON COLD. 
doubtedly often very effective, particularly in 
the case of a person of a nervous temperament. 
People of an inflammatory and congestive tend- 
ency had better, perhaps, avoid the use of any 
stimulant, and confine themselves to the ordina- 
ry repose, dieting, and nursing at home if the 
attack should be tolerably severe. A warm foot- 
bath at night and some hot tea or gruel are all 
that are requisite in addition. An entire absti- 
nence from all fluids for twenty-four hours will 
sometimes remove in that short period the se- 
verer symptoms of an ordinary cold in the head. 
An excessive nursing, however, of this slight ail- 
ment, which will ordinarily run its course in 
spite of any treatment, is, probably, more harm- 
ful than beneficial. M. Dupre, a great French 
singer, who had every motive for protecting 
himself against a cold-for each attack was a 
loss of many thousand francs-declared, as the 
result of his experience, that it was better not to 
use too great or many precautions. It was well, 
he acknowledged, to avoid, as far as possible, ex- 
posure to cold and sudden changes mf tempera- 
ture, by care and proper clothing; but he avow- 
ed that the best protection of all was to fortify 
the body by exercise in the open air during all 
seasons and weather. SORE THROATS. 
259 
Where there is a soreness of throat, the best 
means of relief is surrounding the neck with 
an envelope of wetted linen or cotton, oil-silk, 
and thick flannel, each in the order mentioned. 
This, too, is the best application in the croupy 
cough and breathing with which children are 
apt to be suddenly attacked at night. As there 
is always a great dryness of the throat, a draught 
of water should also be given. A tea-spoonful 
of salt in a tumbler of water will serve as a good 
gargle, where there is a disagreeable irritation, 
leading to a constant hacking. Ordinary coughs 
will seldom require more than a frequent sipping 
of gum-water or linseed-tea. If apparently com- 
ing deep from the chest, the application of a fo- 
mentation prepared like the envelope of linen, 
oil-silk, and flannel, for the throat, though larger, 
is the best. 
Constipation of the bowels, though a very 
common ailment, would be a very rare one, if the 
laws of diet and regimen laid down in this book 
were faithfully obeyed. From the earliest age, 
people shouhl accustom themselves to resort, at 
a fixed period of each day, to the water-closet. 
There is no surer means than such a habit, to se- 
cure ease and regularity of function. A glass of 
cold water before breakfast is a good laxative. 260 
INFLAMMATORY DISEASES. 
Colic and pains in the stomach or bowels are 
best relieved by a drink of water, so hot as al- 
most to scald the mouth, and the application of 
very hot flannels to the seat of suffering. Diar- 
rheas and dysenteries, at their outset, can be 
readily cured by abstinence from food, lying 
motionless on the back, and binding a broad 
flannel bandage tightly around the stomach and 
bowels. In these, however, and all other diseases 
which may become serious, it is not intended 
that any family should dispense with the coun- 
sels of the physician, who ought to be called in 
whenever there is a continuance of illness and a 
prospect of danger. 
Almost all the acute inflammatory maladies, 
the course of which only skillful medical art can 
conduct to the desired issue in health, are of a 
nature that are better, at the beginning, at least, 
for not being interfered with. The outset of all 
of them is so alike, that a physician of the great- 
est experience is unable, at first, to decide what 
particular character the disease will assume. 
He, consequently, can not apply any specific rem- 
edy, even if his pharmacopoeia supplied him with 
such. The only thing to be done is of a general 
kind. When there is great malaise, as the 
French say, or discomfort, with aversion to all DYSPEPSIA. 
261 
ordinary effort, and nausea, with dislike to the 
common food, and feverish symptoms, such as 
flushing of the face, headache, heat of skin, and 
quickness of the pulse, it may be generally infer- 
red that the person showing such symptoms is 
attacked with a serious disease. Before the doc- 
tor can come, who ought to be sent for at once, 
the patient should be placed in a bed and wrap- 
ped up warmly, in an airy room; kept perfectly 
quiet in body and mind, and fed only with the 
simplest food, if he has any appetite, and given 
cold water to drink according to his thirst, or 
left entirely abstinent, if he prefers. 
Dyspepsia is to be avoided by strictly subject- 
ing living to the laws of health. There is no 
other way of preventing or curing it. Its usual 
symptoms may be removed by simple means. 
The spasmodic pains arising from indigestion 
are best relieved by draughts of water, as hot 
as can be drunk; the heart-burn and disagreea- 
ble eructations will often be alleviated'by a little 
charcoal made of burned bread, and the consti- 
pation by a full glass of cold water in the early 
morning, followed by a brisk walk. The habit- 
ual use of carbonate of soda and other drugs, 
though they may temporarily give ease, weaken 
the stomach, in the course of time, and make the 262 
ERUPTIVE DISEASES, ETC. 
disease worse. What is called a poor diet is by 
no means the best for the more common type 
of dyspepsia, which is of an atonic kind, and re- 
quires good food, somewhat seasoned, and a mod- 
erate use of light wine mixed with water. The 
appetite is often, in this disease, voracious, and 
care should be taken not to indulge it too freely. 
The kind of food is generally less important than 
the quantity, an excess of which should always 
be avoided. 
The various eruptive diseases-small-pox, scar- 
latina, measles, etc.-if uncomplicated with other 
affections, should be left to run their natural 
course, without any other treatment than skillful 
nursing, and such management as is in accord- 
ance with the ordinary laws of hygiene. Pure 
air, cleanliness, repose, and simple diet, are all 
that even art demands. 
Hooping-cough, if without complication, can 
hardly be left too strictly alone. There is no 
drug that; ever cut it short in its course, and few 
medicines are known capable of relieving its 
spasms. Plenty of air, and change of habit in 
living, are among the most effectual means of re- 
lief. 
The hot bath will alleviate somewhat the pain 
of an attack of rheumatism; and frictions with FAINTING AND FITS. 
263 
mustard, or a poultice of it, may be applied with 
advantage to the suffering joints. 
A fainting person should always be placed in 
an inclined position, with the head lower than 
the body, and a little cold water thrown with 
sudden violence into the face. In an hysterical 
attack, any thing calculated to arouse and dis- 
tract the mind of the sufferer will always be 
found beneficial. Beating of the hands, or even 
a fillip upon the nose, though it may excite an- 
ger, will allay the troublesome symptoms of the 
affection. In these, and in all fits of any kind, 
the clothes, and all constricting bandages, such 
as neckerchiefs and corsets, should at once be 
loosened. No violence should be used in con- 
trolling the convulsive movements; and when 
the spasms are over, the patient should be put to 
bed, and allowed to repose in quiet. 
In earache and toothache, hot fomentations of 
flannel wrung out of boiling water are the best 
applications, and exposure of the painful part to 
the steam from a tea-kettle is also good. A lit- 
tle warm oil may be dropped into the ear, or a 
roasted onion applied while hot. In continued 
toothache the dentist ought to be consulted; for 
the operation of drawing or filling will be neces- 
sary. 264 
CRAMP. 
The best means of avoiding chilblains is plen- 
ty of exercise in the open air and avoidance of 
too close a proximity to a hot fire. When they 
exist, and the skin is not broken, rubbing with a 
little alcohol, or bathing the feet in hot water 
with a supply of mustard, are good remedies. 
In frost-bites, the patient must be kept out of 
hot rooms and away from the fire. Rubbing 
with snow, or bathing in ice-cold water, is ac- 
knowledged to be the most effectual means of 
cure; and the general circulation of the body 
may be quickened by a draught of weak brandy- 
and-water. 
In cramp, friction or extension of the muscles 
and the hot bath will ordinarily remove the at- 
tack ; and the patient, if he has suffered severe- 
ly, had better be placed in a warm bed, with hot 
bottles to his feet, and given a cup of tea, or 
weak dilution of spirits. ACCIDENTS. 
265 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
Accidents.-Danger of Overcaution. - Cuts: their Treat- 
ment.-Wounds of Veins and Arteries: how distinguish- 
ed. - Staunching of Blood. - Sprains: Treatment. -• 
Burns: Treatment.-Inflammability of Women.-Sun- 
stroke: Treatment.-Bites and Stings: Treatment.- 
Nose - bleeding: Treatment. - Bleeding from Lungs and 
Stomach: Treatment.-Fractures: Management.-Dislo- 
cations. - Courage of Attendants. - Confidence of Pa- 
tients.-Conclusion. 
If accidents will happen, even in the best reg- 
ulated families, they must be pretty frequent in 
households as generally constituted. The best 
safeguard does not consist in keeping up, on the 
part of children, a constant alarm of danger. 
This will render them so nervously timid and ir- 
resolute that they will lose the power of self- 
command essential for the avoidance of the risks 
to which the young must be inevitably exposed. 
A child who is constantly warned, with a threat 
of danger, not to touch a knife, or any instru- 
ment capable of wounding, will probably, on the 
first act of disobedience, do himself some mis- 
chief from the very awkwardness and timid un- 266 
CUTS. 
steadiness with which he handles the forbidden 
thing. 
Cuts are the most common accidents in a fam- 
ily, and there should always be means in readi- 
ness for meeting the occurrence. A supply of 
old linen and long bandages, about two inches 
in width, a few small soft sponges, needles and 
thread, and a roll of adhesive plaister, should be 
kept together, and always so accessible as to be 
at hand on every emergency. Where the bleed- 
ing from a cut is very abundant, the first thing 
to be done is to check it. If the blood is from a 
vein, as can be seen by its color, which is dark 
and purplish, the mere application of cold wa- 
ter, with pressure, will ordinarily staunch it. 
Should the wound have clean edges, these must 
be brought together with precision, and so kept 
by separate stitches, with intervals left between 
them, if there is domestic courage enough to per- 
form the operation, or the simpler, though less 
effective, means of slips of adhesive plaister. 
When this is done, cover the wound with a bit 
of soft linen, moistened with cold water and 
folded two or three times; and finally, bind up 
the whole with frequent turns of bandage, press- 
ing rather upon the injured than the uninjured 
part. If the cut should be ragged, with loss of STOPPING BLEEDING. 
267 
skin, it will be useless to attempt to unite its 
edges, and the best thing to do is to apply bits 
of folded linen dipped in cold water. 
Should an artery be wounded, as will soon be 
discovered by the profuse and jerking issue and 
bright red color of the blood, let a skillful sur- 
geon be sent for at once. In the mean time 
don't let the patient die from loss of blood, but 
bind a handkerchief firmly on the limb between 
the wound and the body, and insert a ruler or 
stick of any kind under the handkerchief, and 
twist and tighten it until the stream of blood is 
evidently checked. When the wound is else- 
where than upon the legs or arms, and its bleed- 
ing can not thus be controlled, the best thing to 
do is to apply cold water or ice to it, and press- 
ure by means of a succession of bits of linen 
folded into squares, and gradually increased 
from the lowest, which should be of a size suffi- 
ciently small to come into close contact with the 
injured part. This application will form a kind 
of reversed pyramid, which must be kept in its 
place by a bandage firmly applied. Repose from 
action of all kinds must be enjoined upon the pa- 
tient, who should be kept perfectly quiet, lying 
down, but not too warmly wrapped up, until the 
arrival of the surgeon. 268 
BRUISES AND BURNS. 
The best domestic treatment for bruises of 
all kinds is the application of flannel wrung out 
of very hot water, and frequently renewed. For 
the cure of sprains, perfect rest of the injured 
part is the most essential. Cloths dipped in cold 
or hot water, and frequently applied, will ordina- 
rily give relief to the pain, which is generally se- 
vere at first, but seldom continues long. 
Burns, if deep and extensive, are dangerous, 
and require the most skillful medical art for 
their treatment: there should be as little delay as 
possible in sending for a physician or surgeon. 
When superficial and covering but a small space, 
domestic care and resources are quite adequate 
for their proper management. Raw cotton ap- 
plied at once is an excellent application, if there 
is no break in the skin. When small blisters 
only are formed, it is better to leave them alone; 
but if there should be large ones, it will be well 
to open them and let out the accumulated fluid 
beneath, taking care, however, to make the aper- 
ture for the purpose as small as possible with a 
needle or some other fine puncturing instrument. 
More of the integument left to cover the injured 
part, the better. When the burn is very seri- 
ous, the chief danger is from the sufferer sinking 
from the shock; and it will be necessary to sup- COMBUSTIBLE WOMEN. 
269 
port his strength with wine. Flour sprinkled 
over burns of any kind is a good application; 
and when the pain is allayed, and they assume 
the character of an ordinary sore, they should be 
treated with dressings of cold water. 
While women persist in increasing their in- 
flammability to the highest degree, by covering 
themselves with the greatest possible quantity 
of the most combustible material, they will be 
sure to be occasional victims of a conflagration. 
Most of the accidents from fire happen to wom- 
en, and generally when expanded for a ball or a 
party, in some spread of flimsy stuff with which, 
like a gaudy butterfly, they hover about a light 
or blazing fire. With presence of mind, which 
is rare under such circumstances, there would be 
little danger, for the nearest rug, blanket, cloak, 
or any woolen article caught up and rolled about 
the person would easily extinguish the first spark. 
By-standers should prevent any one whose dress 
has caught fire from running about. If the wit- 
ness of the accident should be a male person, let 
him strip off his coat, if nothing better can be 
more readily had, and, holding it stretched out 
with his two hands, catch the burning person, 
and quickly inclose her in such a way with the 
garment as to wrap her body tightly around. 270 
SUN-STROKE. 
lie at the same time should also use his power 
of compression to extinguish the fire. 
Sun-stroke, which is now no longer regarded 
as being inflammatory in its nature and requir- 
ing bleeding, but is considered to be essentially 
prostrating, should be treated so as to support 
rather than diminish the strength. Cold water 
or ice should be freely applied to the head and 
neck, a mustard plaster to the pit of the stom- 
ach, and heat to the feet. The sufferer should 
be made to swallow some little weak stimulant: 
a glass of good dry Champagne, like the Consu- 
lar Seal, if it is at hand, may be given with ad- 
vantage. If Champagne, which is the besfr, as it 
is a rapidly diffusible excitant and acts speedily, 
is not accessible, a small quantity of spirits di- 
luted with water may be substituted. As sun- 
stroke is seldom produced by the direct action 
of the solar rays, without the accompaniment of 
fatigue, people in excessively hot weather should 
avoid, if possible, hard labor or severe exercise 
when exposed to the sun. 
Bites and stings are best treated by extracting 
the venom by sucking with the lips, provided 
these are free from any crack or sore. Rags 
dipped in water, wrung out, and covered with 
oil-silk, which will retain the heat of the part BLEEDING. 
271 
and the moisture of the application, make a good 
poultice in these and all other cases in which it 
may be required. 
In bleeding from the nose, the patient should 
be made to assume a position, by throwing back 
his head and raising his arms, unfavorable to 
thejlow of the blood. Cold water, ice, or cold 
metal in any shape-a key or what not-should 
be applied to the back of the neck. When the 
bleeding continues to be profuse, the nostrils 
may be plugged with bits of soft rag dipped in 
cold water, and retained in their place by press- 
ure with the finger. 
Bleeding from the lungs or stomach is best 
checked by complete rest on the back, and occa- 
sional small draughts of iced water and lemon- 
ade. There is a tendency, it may be consolato- 
ry to know, in most bleeding to check itself long 
before it can become fatal, by the prostration its 
very profusion creates. 
Fractures require, for their final treatment, the 
skill of the surgeon; but in most cases other 
persons are called upon to act at first, and they 
should know how they can do so with the least 
mischief. If the arm should be fractured, steady 
it at once with a sling prepared by folding a large 
handkerchief once triangularly, and so applied as 272 
FRACTURES. 
to support the whole limb to the tips of the fin- 
gers. When a foot, leg, or thigh is fractured, 
and it is necessary to carry the sufferer any dis- 
tance, however small, he should be borne, by the 
hands and shoulders of men, upon a shuttei' or 
some solid support, broad enough to sustain his 
whole frame fully stretched out. A jolting wag- 
on or carriage of any kind is the worst means 
of conveyance. A pillow should be placed un- 
der the injured limb, and fastened around it by 
means- of tied handkerchiefs. The great object 
should be to prevent motion to the leg, either on 
the part of the patient himself or those who have 
any thing to do with him. With some restora- 
tive, in the form of cold tea, water, or a little 
wine, and a cheering word, he can be left with 
safety until the surgeon comes. Dislocations, 
which will be rarely distinguished by unprofes- 
sional persons, may be treated by them in the 
same way as fractures. 
The various processes recommended for the 
management of diseases and accidents are of the 
simplest kind, but they require the self-command 
which knowledge and courage are sure to give 
to make them effectual. Every chief of a fami- 
ly, and each member of it, in fact, should, by a 
resolute and habitual control of their nerves and HOUSEHOLD COURAGE. 
273 
feelings, have their judgments so free from em- 
barrassment that all their energies of mind and 
body may be equal to any domestic emergency 
that presents itself. In all the ills that flesh is 
heir to, the spirit does not fail to exert a remark- 
able influence; and every sufferer's chance of 
bodily relief depends greatly upon the state of 
his mind. If hopeful of a good result, he is half 
cured; but if desponding, his case is already 
much aggravated. The courageous and judi- 
cious action of the attendant will give that mor- 
al confidence to the patient which is a powerful 
auxiliary to the treatment of all bodily affec- 
tions. INDEX. 
"After dinner rest a while," 186. 
Air for bedrooms, 144; night air, 
145; morning air, 146. 
Air in the ground, 37. 
Air, purity of the, 20. 
Air required for health, 19. 
Air through walls, 21. 
Amusements for children, 130. 
Anger, effects of, 197. 
Apologue on the plague, 199. 
Appetite, blessings of a good, 180. 
Aspect of a sick-room, 246. 
Augsburg, poison in a house at, 
39. 
Bacon, Lord, on dining-halls, 162. 
Bandaging of children, 122. 
Bank-notes, blazing, 205. 
Banqueting-hall of olden times, 
163. 
Bathing for children, 125. 
Bed - chambers, proper kind of, 
141. 
Bed-chambers for the young, 94. 
Bedrooms, ventilation in, 24. 
Beds and bed-clothing, hints on, 
147, et seq. 
Beds for children, 100. 
Beds for the sick, 248. 
Bites, remedies for, 270. 
Bleeding, to stop, 267 ; of nose, 
271; lungs or stomach, 271. 
Blinds, when to be used in houses, 
66. 
Blood, amount of, in adults, 84. 
Boilingrof food, 230; process of, 
232. 
Book-shelves, or cases, 211. 
Books for parlors, 194. 
Books, refining influence of, 209. 
Bow-windows, 66. 
Brain, early exercise of the, 138. 
Breakfast, 173. 
Brick walls, 22. 
Bricks, number in a house, 47; 
absorption of water by, 48. 
Broiling meats, 235. 
Broken hearts not mythical, 199. 
Bruises, remedies for, 268. 
Burns, remedies for, 268. 
Burying alive in chambers, 95. 
Carbolic acid as a disinfectant, 
250. 
Cartel lamp, the light from a, 214. 
Cards as a childish amusement, 
134. 
Carpets, 193. 
Carpets - objectionable in chil- 
dren's rooms, 102. 
Chilblains, remedy for, 264. 
Child's hospital in Paris, custom 
in, 62. 
Childhood, tenderness for, 200. 276 
INDEX. 
Children in the nursery, 88-91. 
Children, sleeping-room for, 95; 
amount of sleep necessary for 
young, 96, 97. 
Children, science of dress for, 117; 
hardening of, 119; delicacy of 
skin, 120; indoor and outdoor 
clothing, 121; free movement 
for, 122 ; exercise for, 127,128; 
amusements for, 130; mirthful- 
ness of, 131; games, 133; cards, 
134; precocity, 135. 
Chloride of lime as a disinfectant, 
250. 
Chlorine gas as a disinfectant, 
250. 
Cholera, propagation of, 35. 
Cisterns, construction of, 36. 
Cleanliness and warmth, 158. 
Clothing, change for sleep, 157. 
Clothing-for warm weather, 159; 
for wet, 160. 
Coffee-making, 238. 
Cold feet of students, 213. 
Colds, remedies for common, 257. 
Comb of fowls should be used, 
224. 
Combustible clothing, 269. 
Condy's fluid, 251. 
Constipation of the bowels, 259. 
Cooking-skill in, 227; necessity 
of good, 228; preliminaries to, 
229. 
Cooks, 218, et seq. 
Cow-heels, excellence of, 224. 
Country houses, 33 ; requirements 
of, 34. 
Courage, necessary in a house- 
hold, 272. 
Cradles and rocking-chairs un- 
healthy, 98. 
Cramp, remedy for, 264. 
Crowding in towns, 78. 
Crying of children, 126; want of 
exercise often the cause, 127. 
Cui de sac unwholesome, 79. 
Cuts, remedies for, 266. 
Damp houses, 43. 
Dangers of dwelling-houses, 17. 
Dangers of new houses, 45. 
Death from bad ventilation, 18. 
Death caused by angry emotion, 
197. 
Devil's imps, 218. 
Diaper, use of the, 123. 
Digestion, 170. 
Digestion of infants, 112. 
Dining-rooms - sombre English, 
165; the requisite for, 168. 
Dinner, 174. 
Dinners-of civilization, 162; of 
shorter duration than formerly, 
164; serious English,165; Wash- 
ington Irving at English, 167. 
Diseases produced by bad air, 30. 
Disinfectants, 248. 
Distorted limbs of children, 127. 
" Dividers of bread," 163. 
Doctor comes, before the, 244. 
Domestic affection, healthfulness 
of, 200. 
Donne, Dr., on eyesight, 214. 
Drainage of dwellings, 76. 
Drains and sinks, 31. 
Dress, science of, 117 ; suitable 
for children, 118 ; child harden- 
ing, 119 ; indoor and outdoor, 
121; to be made easy, 122; cru- 
■ elty of fashion, 124. 
Drugs, inefficacy of, 256. 
Drunkards-how formed some- 
times, 176. 
Dry a house, quantity of air re- 
quired to, 49. 
Dry-nursing, 111. INDEX. 
277 
Dungeons of fashion, 66. 
Dwellings, situation of, 71; indif- 
ference to view, 72 ; sites for, 
74; trees adjacent to, 74; soil 
to build on, 75; drainage of, 
76; in towns, 77; influences of, 
81. 
Ear-ache, remedies for, 263. 
Early rising, 156. 
Eating, times of, 172 ; dangers of 
irregularity in, 175. 
Emotions, exciting, 197. 
Enemy to households, 254. 
Eruptive diseases, 262. 
Exercise for infants, 128. 
Extravagance of modern parties, 
206. 
Eyes, ailments of the, 216. 
Eyes, effect on, of different lights, 
214. 
Fainting persons, treatment of, 
263. 
Fan-lights good ventilators, 26. 
Fashion, requirements of, 206, 
207. 
Father at home, the, 202. 
Fear, pernicious results of, 199. 
Feet of students generally cold, 
213. 
Fire-place, the open, 190. 
Fish, 224. 
Fish for dinner, 178. 
Floor-covering for chambers, 149. 
Forced locomotion, 129. 
Foul water, dangers of, 35. 
Fractures of limbs, 271. 
Franklin's experiments on heat 
in colors, 117. 
Frankness in domestic life, 203. 
Frightening children, 100. 
Frogs, 225. 
Frost-bites, remedy for, 2C4. 
Frying meats, 236. 
Fuel, saving, 225. 
Furnace-heat, 56. 
Furniture, folly of superfine, 192. 
Furniture for a sick-room, 246. 
Gas, poisoned by, 40. 
Gas, lighting by, 69, 70. 
Gilding indispensable in rooms, 
194. 
Green copperas as a disinfectant, 
251. 
Guilford, fever in the town of, 36. 
Hardening of children, 119. 
Health effected by dwelling- 
house, 75. 
Heat-by furnace, 56; by stoves 
and open grates, 57, 58; diffu- 
sion of, 59; houses overheated, 
60. 
Jleat of the body-origin of, 53; 
superfluous, 54; to retain the, 
55, et seq. 
Home, social life of, 201; the fa- 
ther at, 202. 
Hooping-cough, 262. 
Hospitals, etc., in towns, 78. 
Hospitality, genuine, 204. 
Hunter's, Dr. John, death, 197. 
Impure air, 27. 
Infants - duty of suckling, 104; 
wet-nurses, 105; substitutes for 
mothers' milk, 110; dry-nurs- 
ing, 111; food for, 112; wean- 
ing, 113; effect of sweets, 114; 
teething, 115; dress, 117, 123. 
See also Children. 
Infection, to guard against, 249. 
Irritability of temper injures di- 
gestion, 181. 278 
INDEX. 
Jam-pots vs. books, 212. 
Keeping meats, 229. 
Kettles and pots, the material of, 
240. 
Kitchens, good, a necessity, 219; 
requirements of, 220, 221. 
Lanchester's, H. J., How to make 
a House healthy, 33. 
Laughter, wholesome exercise, 
198. 
Library, a place for reading, 20S. 
Light, solar, essential to life, 61; 
influence of solar rays on dwell- 
ings, 62, 63; in towns, old and 
new, 63, 64; taxing the, 65; the 
dungeons of fashion, 66 ; artifi- 
cial light, good and bad, 68, 69; 
gas, 70. 
Lights for reading by, 214. 
Long-sightedness, 216. 
Luncheon, 175. < 
M'Dougall's powder as a disin- 
fectant, 250. 
Marriage, sympathy in, 201. 
Meat or soup ? 231. 
Medicine-chest, family, 254. 
Medicine, preventive, 8. 
Milk, substitute for mothers', 110. 
Mind on body, the influence of, 
196. 
Mirthfulness of children, 131. 
Mortality through wet-nursing, 
107. 
Nightingale's, Florence, experi- 
ences, 67, 248. 
Nursery, the, 82; importance of 
size and position of, 83; venti- 
lation of, 84; should be sunny, 
86; furniture for, 86; tempera- 
ture of, 87; decoration of, 88; 
liveliness of, 91. 
Opiates, 156. 
Pall-Mall Gazette on newly-built 
houses, 45. 
Parlors, hermetically sealed, 188; 
open fire-places in, 190; sun- 
shine in, 190; books for, 194; 
requisites for, 195. 
Parties, modern, 206. 
Pastry less wholesome than pud- 
ding, 179. 
Pastry, to make good, 239. 
Peabody Buildings in London, 
the, 46. 
Permeability of soils, 38. 
Persian rugs, 193. 
Pettenkofer's, Dr. Max V., experi- 
ments, 21, 41, 47. 
Pictures and frames, 194. 
Pictures in bed-chambers, 150. 
Pillows for beds, 101,154. 
Plague, apologue on the, 199. 
Poison from the ground, 39. 
Porcelain stoves, the heat from, 
58. 
Potato, how to cook a, 238. 
Pots and kettles, the material of, 
240. 
Precocity of children, 135. 
Preventive medicine, 8. 
Pudding better than pastry, 179. 
Reading effects on the eye, 214. 
Rheumatism, hot baths for, 262. 
Roast meats, large joints of, 178. 
Roasting meats, 234. 
Rocking-chairs and cradles for- 
bidden, 98. 
Salted or corned meats, 237. INDEX. 
279 
Senses alive during sleep, 94. 
Sexual instinct, early develop- 
ment of, 136. 
Shams in a library, 212. 
Short-sightedness, 216. 
Sick-chambers, management and 
arrangement of, 244. 
Sick, management of the, 242 et 
seq. 
Sinks and drains, 31. 
Sites for houses, 74. 
Skin of children, delicacy of the, 
120. 
Sleeping after dinner, 186. 
Sleep, natural, necessary for chil- 
dren, 93. 
Sleep, senses alive during, 94; 
amount of, necessary, 96, 97. 
Sleep - the true and the false, 
140 ; quiet essential, 142; in the 
night air, 145; quantity re- 
quired, 151; position of body 
during, 153; disordered sleep, 
154; late suppers, 155. 
Sleeplessness, a cure for, 99. 
Sociability at meals, 183. 
Social life of home, 201. 
Soil, purifying the, 43. 
Solar light essential to life, 61. 
Solitary dining always to be 
avoided, 183. 
Sore throats, remedy for, 259. 
Soup, required for dinner, 177. 
Soup or meat? 231. 
Spectacles, 217. 
Spectator, The, on wet-nurses, 
104. 
Spoiling servants, 222. 
Steele, Richard, on wet-nurses, 
104. 
Sterne, Lawrence, on digestion, 
1S2. 
Stewing meats, 236. 
Stimulants failing to produce ap- 
petite, 180. 
Stings, remedies for, 270. 
Stomach, consciousness of a, 
169. 
Stone walls, 22. 
Stoves, French versus American, 
225. 
Sulphate of iron (green copperas) 
as a disinfectant, 251. 
Sulphurous acid gas as a disin- 
fectant, 251. 
Sun, the, a good tonic, 62. 
Sunshine in rooms, 95,190. 
Sun-stroke, treatment of, 270. 
Suppers, late, 155. 
Taxing the light, 65. 
Tea, making, 238. • 
Teething of children, 115. 
Temperature, effect of, 23. 
Temperature of chambers, 96. 
Temperature of a sick - room, 
246. 
Toothache, remedies for, 263. 
Toys for children, 89. 
Trees for shade of dwellings, 
74. 
Typhoid fever, properties of, 36. 
Typhus fever, 82. 
Vegetables, cooking of, 237. 
Venetian blinds, 26. 
Ventilation, proper amount of, 
19. 
Ventilation, means of, 26. 
Ventilators for gas-lights, 69. 
Walcheren, expedition to, 199. 
Walls of houses, construction of, 
22. 
Walls of a sick-room, 247. 
Warmth and cleanliness, 158. 280 
INDEX. 
Wastefulness, American, 200, 222, 
223. 
Water, diseases from, 36. 
Weaning, 113. 
Wet-nurses, 104. 
Wet walls, 44, 49; remedy for, 
52. 
Wilson's work on disinfectants, 
250. 
Wine as a dinner beverage, 
185. 
Women's ailments, mental cause 
of, 201. 
Woolen garments, 159. . 
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