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32X

IS GROWIN TO BE A MAN.

■

y^UEER QUESTIONS UJUAINTLY

NSWERED;

OR,

CREATIVE MYSTERIES MADE PLAIN
TO CHILDREN.

R E T A G R A Y

PUBLISHED BY

J. L, NICHOLS & CO.,

33 Richmond St West, - Toronto, Canada.

Offices: Naperviiie, III., and Atlanta, Ga.

All Pkrsoxs ake Warnkd not to Infringe ipon oir Copvr.oht bv Cs.no
Either tub Matter or the Picti-res in this Volt'me.

C'O.'YKIOHTKD AT WasiHNOton. HV J. L. Nk.IOI.s & fo.

KXTKUEI) AT StATIOXKKS' HaI.L.

Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand
eight hundred and ninety -nine, by J. L. Nichols & Co.. at the Department of
Agriculture.

Did
of

DEDICATED

flliotbera,

HOPING IT MAY ASSIST THEM IN
TEACHING THEIR LITTLE ONES OF THOSE SACRED

"ORIGINS"

THE KNOWLEDGE OF WHICH

HEING OF MORE IMI'ORTANCE TO THEM

THAN WE CAN \'ALUE.

PREFACE.

TiiEiiE may he .some who will feel a little startled
at the thought of talking freely with chihlren con-
cernincr those things which there is g.^nerally an
effort made to hide from them. To such, as well as
to others, I can only say that there is a danger of
confounding purity of mind with ignorance. But
they are not the same ; they have nothing in com-
mon ; the one is the offspring of light and truth, the
other is the offspring of darkness.

There is certain knowledge, certain truths concern-
ing life, which every child nmst learn, must gather
from some source or other. This knowledge should
be gained in the sanctuary of home, in sweet, confi-
dential talks between parent and child. But, sad to
say, those very things concerning which, above all
others, the child should receive the carefulest, tender-
est training it usually learns nothing at all of in the
home.

The object of this little work is to brush aside
some of the mysterious clouds and let the light shine
into the childish mind : to tell in simple words some
of the great truths of creative science. I have ever

X PREFACE.

tried to iinpresH upon tlie youn<^ mind that the body
is a sacred temple, that every part, every organ of it,
was phmned ])y the Creator, and shonM he revered.

Our boys and f^irls of to-day ai'e to he tlie men
and women of tomorrow. How inipoi-taiit, tlien, the
teachin*^ of those first few years in the home, tluit
there may ever he a truer Hvinf]r in tlie future. We
have not thought too nmeh of the moral, but we
have thought too little of the physical. In perfec-
tion they go hand in hand. We seem to have for-
gotten that God is interested in our body ; that it is
as truly His work as the soul is ; that there is nothing
affects it that does not affect its Creatoi*. The body
is the dwelling-place of the eternal Spirit on earth,
and from our earliest childhood we should be taught
this, that we may not in any way make our bodies
less perfect than it is in our power to have them.
Disease is the most unlovely thing in the world,
whether it be of body or of mind. Health is inspir-
ing ; health is beautiful, and from our childhood we
should aspire to possess it.

If the little talks which follow are the means of

lessening in some degree the pain and suffering which

touches us on every hand, and of inspiring our boys

and girls with a longing to be perfect in body as well

as in soul, the author will feel that she has been

bounteously rewarded.

The Author.

IXDHX TO CONTKNTS.

CHAPTER T.
A (i()()I)-HVE.

Childron will question— Precioua pii\ iloge— (JmiHliiiii gone

homo I ,j

CHAPTEIl II.

A bird's nest.

Where (Jofl got the birdie -Mamma an<l papa birds - A keep-
sake — A naughty hoy .>.>

CHAPTEJi irr.

DO THE FLOWEIIS LOVE ^

World made up of pairs— Fruit the ripened pistil— (Jod's

way past finding out oj,

CHAPTER IV.

A BABY KITTY.

A dream about grandma— Old pussy lazy— House for tie

kitties— A talk with pussy— Arrival of the kitties 33

CHAPTER V.
A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

Gladys ehooses-A story of little colts— Gladys angry— (iirls
laugh— Babies at parties— iMamnui clears up the difficulty
—Mothers not acquainted with their little boys and girls 4H

ifl

IN'DKX TO CONTENTS.

CIIAITKK VI.
TICK NEW IIAFJV.

I'Aor,

A Tulk with coiiHiii Lillif - |{iil»y Ixmglit from i\w doctor —
Ximsc'h Ht<»ry - |{iil»y gri'u \iii(lt'r a caldMigo li'af— (JladyH
iiHlignant A silciit walk (Madya in tuars--No one
truthful -Mamma explains 51

CHAPTER Vir.
A IIKAI/niY CHILD.

Talk with mothcrH A sickly child -Medicine — Coiddii't go
Itait'foot '^luiclcil hy f<'('diMg sweetmeats — Child sinned
against — Pictper clothing for infants — I'i'oper food — Bath-
ing important (iirl as good as a hoy — Romping — Sin of
early niai-riage 62

CHAPTEU VIII.
A VISITOU.

Ksthor expected— The arrival— Ksther and tea — Gladys' per-
plexity — Su|)per not enjoyed— Cotlee and cake before
retiring — Feverish sleep — A soothing hand — Bands of
Hope Stimulants

CHAPTER IX.

A CONFESSION.

A sleepless night— The fruitless search — Intense thirst— Days
of longing — Appetite concjuered — Hot water — Esther at
home — A joke— Cup of tea spilled — A twentieth century
temperance i)ledge 8.3

CHAPTER X.
CHILDREX WHO VISIT.

Cladys wants to visit — Mamma refuses — All girls not good —
Bad habits— A little one misled — Sickness — The suflferer
cured — ( lirls protected 90

AOR

r»i

INl)EX]^T()*(()\TK\TS.
C'llAI'TKK \l.

KHOM (illiUUHH) TO WOMAMIOOI).

Man.iMH nut wrll (ilu.IyH s.viM|.alhi/,..s -r,„lfr.staii.ling tlu,
pliysioul natun. I'stM of .liir,.n.nt organ, rvplaiiuMl
Cliai.go at w.,mui.l,„,Ml MoiImmh' f,M)liHli fear |„j,„y
tl.n.iigh igimmiir-c -Nrars tu locvor-Do nmtluT.i l.,v..
tlifir cliildrcii V

• ••

XIII

I'AOK

CIIAITICK MI.
A IIASTV WOIU).

(JIadyH' (lisi-ovory-Friond in troul,!,. ^ Hy the nvei

MlK

frigl.tt.ne.l -A fearful untruth-Hcii!, -Ic.l -Hot drink
and foot-l)atl. -Koroo.l lionio-DoftorcaJlnd-Fow niontlm'
sicluicMs—A young life gone |

CUAPTI^K Xill.

TlIK HOVS WHO S.MoKK.
Soen from tlie window-Sl.aring .igarL-ttes- Smoking 7i,dulv
thought of-Ohservations in Clucago .s<,-h(,ol8-\>'omon
the rescue f..ree--])octor8' opinions-What t'lrls can do
-Woman's responsibility for evil-Strange things foun.l
-Ant.-cigarette soeiety-Kllects of .igarette sn.oking

111

CHAPTKIi XIV.

A XAMKf.ESS CHIM).

Strange staten.eutat school -(J jadys I>u/./.led-Ma,nnuvs(,ught
-Sewn.g aside-More queer questions -Home knowledire
not abused -Digested and indigested truth-Why every
thing must have a papa and mamma- Life germ in flowers
and fruits-Bird life-An immortal soul-i'arents' debt
to the child-(;od\s creative plan ; so beautiful, so per-
fect-S.n leaves a scar-The world's injustice-(Jo.rs
goodness

J'X)

XIV

INDEX TO CONTENTS.

PAGE

134

CHAPTER XV.

FROM BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD.

A talk with Hugh — Becoming a man — All the world not
sweet and pure— A shocking revelation — Noble hoys —
A sacred trust — In the image of God — Every organ for a
special purpose — Sexual organs holy, Cod-given — Laws
concerning them — Penalty of broken law — lioys' tempta-
tions — The thought pure — Body obeys the mind

CHAPTER XVI.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

Baby grown — A shadow approaching — (iladys growing pale —
An imperfect lesson — iSickness or health — Body a soul-
propelled machine — Half invalid a second-hand machine
— Over-study the mischief maker — Wish to be a man —
Fought out alone — A great struggle — Health necessary
for usefulness — Victory — Dropped out of line — Books
locked away — Year of rest and out-door exercise — Health
restored 142

CHAPTER XVII.

SUICIDE.

A newspaper item — A seventeentli century dude — An actor
dead — Murder or suicide— Fashion's victims— Steel band-
ages — No figure at all — Nearly all women deformed —
Corset lovers — Acting like heathen — Women don't know
tight clothing — Corset taken off — Backache— Recovery —
Corset cause of weakness and deterioration of health —
History, mystery, and injuries of the corset — Tight lacing
— Irritable temper — Bones twisted and deformed 15"2

CHAPTER XVIII.

HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL.

Home the life of the nation — Beauty, good health, good tem-
per, good manners — Kind to the body — ^Proper dress —
Every organ relieved of pressure — Lungs free — Blood
filled with oxygen — Cartilages hardened — Health waists
— Loose bands — Tight shoes — Corns — Comfort 167

INDEX TO CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XIX.

A PRETTY COMPLEXION.

Blackheads — Wrinkles — Diet — Waste and repair — Food to
rebuild — Nutritious and non-irritating food — Pickles
and spices— Fevei'ish condition of the stomach— Moral
courage — Intemperance — Headache and nervousness —
Care at the menstrual period — Kest

PAGE

177

CHAPTER XX.

BEAUTY.

Beauty of body— Beauty of character — Beauty of action —
Light and love the same — Sun attracts l)y light — Nature
of love — Beautiful at home — Choose books carefully —
Wholesome reading — Healthy mind — Courtesy— Love in
trifles — Introductions — Street etiquette— Slangy words —
All nature lovely — Human form created beautiful — Dress
harmonize with nature — Letter-writing — Invitations —
Applications — Recommendations — Etiquette of calls —
Practical lules on table manners 184

CHAPTER XXI.

HOW TO KEEP YOUNG.

Don't wrinkle — Face bathing — Fretting — Peevish complaints
— Fresh air — Sleeping rooms — (Tymnastic exercises —
Stand properlj' — Sitting position — Walking — Freedom of
motion — Breathing — Breath of the infinite — Chest expan-
sion — Physical amusements — Long breaths — Rules for
breathing — Breathing exercises — Sleep— Early to bed-
Popular prejudice — Drafts — How to induce sleep 201

CHAPTER XXII.
SUNLIGHT.

The doctor's story — (iod's good remedy — Children and sun-
shine — The nursery — Roses in the dark— Sickly plants —
— Green blinds— Sun's rays — Currents of iron— Iron pills 215

XVI

INDEX TO CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXIII.

ItlNC GAMES AND FROLICS FOR CHILDREN'S PAR'J'IES.

PAGE

Parlies a nuisance — Play with the chihlren — Mud pies —
Simple games — (lame of flowers — London Bridge — Fox —
Jingle bells— Fun with peanuts — Children's march — A
(|uotation hunt — Cross <iuestions and crooked answers —
Water in a glass upside down — (iuessing — Puzzles 219

CHAPTER XXIV.

HOW TO NURSE SICK CHILDREN.

Respiratory diseases— Nervous diseases - Skin aiiections —
Infant feeding — Bathing — Lung troidjlo — Fevers — The
sick chamber — Visitors — Light — Sickness in summer —
Scarlet fever — Measles — Drinks — Food — Eating fruit —
Sudden startings — Convulsions — Symptoms of indigestion
— Cow's milk — Infant food fur twenty four hours — How to
keep a Ijaby moU -iU

CHAPTER XXV.

HINTS FOR HOT WEATHER.

Frequent bathing— Clothing without bands— Sleepitig alone —
Cordials —Fresh air — Houses clean and cool— How to
sterilize milk — Infant teething— First teeth— Cut in pairs
— Lancing the gums — Names of the different teeth "i.S!)

' »

CHAPTER XXVI.

.'.

TREATMENT FOR CHILDREN S DISEASES.

Deaths among children — Colic — Remedies — Constipation —
Diarrhea — Sunmier complaint — Worms — Symptoms —
Treatment — Spasmodic croup — Symptoms — Home treat-
ment — True croup — Sym])toms — Home Treatment — Scar-
let fever — Whooping cough ; nnnn])s ; measles ; chicken-
pox ; di2)htheria — Symptoms -Home treatment — Sulphur
bath — Salt bath — Vapor bath — Hot aii bath— Sponge Imth
— F\)ot bath — Sitz l)ath — Acid bath - Cure for prickley
heat

245

•AGE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

!J9

Fr<i)itl>ijt!t I

\ '

I's Growin' to be a Man

"New Biedie in the Nest"

" Hk Gave it to Me as a Pledge "

"Gladys Gray."' I Answered PROMm.v -

" Mamma Told Me About You "

Bird's Nest and E(;gs -...."

" Where Did Your Papa Get It ? "

" Where Did the Baby Come From ' -

Chums in Combat .....

Feeding the Chickens - . . .

Giving His Horse a Drink - . ' . "

Innocence - . . . _

The Lungs and Heart of a Cigarette Smoker -'

Ihe Lungs and He.\rt in Health -

Section of Diseased Lung of a Cigarette Smoker -"

ll^V^r. ^"""'^"'^"^ ""' ^^'^'^^ «*^ ■^^- KxcKss.vK Smoker

Waiting for a Ride ....

The Dude of the Seventeenth Century
Hope .....

The Corset in the Si.xteenth Century

Egyptian Corset .....

Stekl Corset Worn in Catherine's Time - "

Fashion's Devotees ....

The Natural Waist ....

The Effects of Lacing

A Natural Figure ....

"The Beautiful is Always the Free" -
Corset in the time of Elizabeth of England
Corset in the time of Eli/aheth ,.k En.jland -
The Nursery ....

Song Without Words ...

A Knight of the Bath ...

I'AliE

- 23

- 27

- 35
41

r)3

- fii

(i!)

- 73

85
!>7
113
113
11!)
121
131
144
153
157
1(53
164
J 64
170
172
172
179
190
204
208
217
22(j
240

"Come, let us live with our children!"

Earnestly, holily live,
Learning ourselves the sweet lessons

That to the children we give.
Fresh from the kingdom of heaven

Into this earth-life they come,
Not to abide — we must guide them

Back to the heavenly home.

"Come, let us live with our children!"

Leading them tenderly on
Into the fields that God's love-light

Ever shines brightly upon.
Then when our feet grow too weary .

For the safe guidance of youth.
We shall be led, like the children,

To Him who is goodness and truth.

—Selected.

QVEllli OUIiSTIONS QUAINTLY
ANSWERED.

CHAPTER I.

A rJOOD-HYE.

" C KE, sweetheart, see, grandma is comin?." And
^ my little th.-ee-yea.-old darling laughed and
clapped her hands as the dear silver-haired ;„ an of
eighty walked slowly toward us

She was my fathers mother, and the only mother
I had ever known. She sat down on the step before
us, he. face more serene even than usual. She looked
at ine hen at iny baby, and then around on the
i.eantitul sunset scene. The leaves were just bur.st-
.ns anew on the trees and the flowers shooting up
heir heads. Tlie sky was clear, the birds lere
twittering, and I, with my baby in my arms and my
mother at my knee, was so happy that I felt as if
tins were almost heaven itself.
She turned to me again in a' moment, and said ■
Keta, you were a happy little girl, and you are
now a happy woman ; and I hope that in your happi-

ZirZI "1>t '"" '""'='> you owe to tit
sweet little daiio-litoi' wlmm Pr>ri i, ,

^ <^fu^iiti.i w noin (jou lias given you

- 10

QUEEU QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

I clasped my laughinf^. dancing baby closer to me,
and kissed her fervently two or three times.

" My baby will be all right," I replied, " for the
same dear, wise mother who guided me will help me
guide my little one. Won't she, sweetheart ? "

My bal)y laughed and threw her arms around
grandma's neck, crying :

" Yes, gi-andma teach baby everysing."

The dear mother's face became very solenni, and
taking my hands in hers she looked into my face
witli such intense earnestness that I almost faltered
l)eneath it.

" Reta," she said, " grandma cannot always live,
and you will have that baby to teach yourself. Will
you remember how I have taught you ? Will you
remember how much a mother owes to her child ?
That little mind is soon going to begin to question,
and who will answer those questions ? If that young
intellect blossoms and ripens under the Heavenly
Father's hand, it l.s going to know.

" You understand me, Reta. There are things
never taught in the school room, seldom taught in
books, but about which young minds are curious ; and
it is the mother's place to satisfy this curiosity. Will
you remember, my daughter, that you never learned
in the playground, or on the street from vulgar tongues
those things which should come pure and simple from
the mother's lips ? Will you remember, too, my child,
that as 3'ou neared womanhood you were not left in
ignorance of your being ; that you did not endure
years of suffering because of my neglect ? Will you

?■:

A GiH)D-liYE.

remember that I always had your confidence, and that
whenever you wished to Ivnow any of those secrets
which children try to gather from older ones, you
came straight to me with it, and I told you in a way
that did not leave a stain upon your pure young mind ?

" It is a high and precious privilege to raise children,
to send them fortli into the world healthy, happy men
and women, with minds free from sullying thoughts,
the seeds of which have been dropped by vulgar
tongues in early childhood, because a mother thouglit
she couldn't tell them those things which the child is
hound to learn from some source or other."

My eyes were filled with tears. I put my arms
around her neck and pressed my face to hers.

" My dear, dear mother," I said, " I know how good,
liow faithful you have been to me. May God give
me grace and wisdom to be as good to my own ! "

" He will, Reta, He w^ill ! " And brushing back the
curls from my face she looked at me with a serene,
heavenly expression which never faded from my
memory. " And when grandma is gone, Reta, you will
remember her teaching even better than you do now."

She left us on the steps and went into the house,
and when an hour later we found her in her room her
spirit had gone to be w^ith God.

I shall draw a curtain over that last, sad scene. I
felt that my heart was broken, and that I could never
raise my child without her help. But when the silent
form had gone forever her teaching still remained.
Our lives had been so lived within each other that no
hour passed which did not bring back some word of
hers.

CHAPTER II.

A HIUDS XEST,

was Hprnio- ji<;aiii ; a year

had

passed since

<rraii(lma had been taken. I was doin<;- up my
room work one morning while my baby stood at the
open window lookin*.^ up at the great maple tree
before her. She could just touch some of the branches ;
and almost within her reach was a dear little birdie's
nest.

" Mannua, see," she said, her face eagerly lighting,
" isn't there a little, new^ birdie in the nest ^ "

I went to the window, and, sure enough, there was
the tiny, new-born, featherless creature.

"Did God put the little birdie in the nest:*" she
said as she turned hei' lovely, questioning, blue eyes
on my face.

I sat down on a stool beside her, and for a moment
made no reply. How well I remembered my own
first lesson on that subject 1 My tirst thought had
been to say, " Yes, darling, God put the little birdie in
the nest. Isn't He good to give us such dear little
birdies ? " But I knew that would not satisfy the
mother who had tauo;ht me.

" Where do you think God w^ould get the birdie to

put in the nest ^ " I asked.

• •i

u- \

A lURDS S'ESr.

The bluo vycH looked puz/k-d for a inonient, tlion
she .said bri<ihtl3' :

" Away up in llie sky, .some whore."

"And what do you think that poor littk' birdie
would do awa}' up in the sky somewhere alone ^

"New birdie in the nest."

It hasn't any feathers, and it is so tiny and weak that
it cannot move out of tlie nest."

" Couldn't God take care of it, miunma ^ " .she .said
sweetly.

" Yes, God could take care of it like that if He
cared to ; but God doesn't do His work in that way.

24 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAlXTLV ANSWEUED.

God made tlie little birdies to fly about in the sky,
and to 8inf( for us here. And every new little birdie
that comes, comes in a nest just as this little birdie
has. God does take care of it, but He does so by
putting it into the heart of the manniia and papa
bird to feed it and watch over it and keej) it warm
till it grows big enough to fly for itself."

I paused for a moment, and smiled to see my baby's
still puzzled face.

" But mamma," she said, " you didn't tell me yet
where the mamma and papa bird got their little baby
bird. Did God come down some night and put it in
the nest, and tell them to be good birdies and take
care of the little new birdie ? "

" No, sweetheart, no," 1 replied as I kissed the fair,
puzzled brow, " not just that way. Long, long years
ago when God first made the world He made birdies
something in that way, but He does not have to do
that now, for He so made the birdies that from them
new birdies are born every year.

" In the spring when the sun gets warm and the
leaves come out on the trees, and the flowers begin to
blossom, some papa bird rings to some mamma bird,
and they go off" together and gather some little straws
and bits of leaves, and build a nest. A mamma and
papa bird built this nest right here in the tree before
us. Then the mamma bird laid some tiny little eggs
and sat on them to keep them warm, just like auntie's
old speckled hen does every spring. By and by the
eggs hatched, and the little birdies were in the nest
instead of the tiny eggs.

A IJl UD'« nest,

"Ami often whilo tlic iniiniiiia l)ir<l sits (jii the «'^'^s
to keep tliein wai'iii tlie pupa bird ^allu'i's woniiH and
flies, and brin<i;.s tliem to lier to eat. And now he will
lielp her feed tlie baby birds For a while, till she can
leave thetn to hunt I'ood Tor tiienj. KNcry day they
^et a little bit stronn;('r, the feathers will come out on
them, and by and by they will My about in the sky
and sing for us in the trees."

"And will they be nianinia birds and papa birds
sometime, too ? " she asked ea^^erly.

" Yes, sweetheart, next year they will pair otf with
some other birdies, and build ne.sts and raise their
little ones."

" And don't the papa bird ever lay any eggs and
sit on them J* " She turned her head to one side and
looked as if she didn't think it was altogether fair.

I smiled, " No, baby, (Jod just made the mannna
bird so she could lay eggs, and put a love in her heart
to sit on them till the little birdies are hatched. He
put a love in the papa bird's heart, too, to look after
the mamma bird wdiile she did it. Isn't it all right,
Gladys I "

She threw her arms around my neck as she said :

" Yes, mamma, it is all right. God made it that
way, and I know God wouldn't do it that way if it
wasn't all right. I love the little birdies, and I love the
flowers, and everything God has made, and I love you
most of all."

Then she raised her head and looked into my face —

" Say, mamma, did you ever see a birdie's a^g ( "

" Yes, dear, and mamma has a little nest with two

QUKEll QI'lvSTloN'S gr.\IN"H.V ANSWKKI't).

tiny ('^^^H ill it in her (niiiU, ;mii slir will show yoii "

I <(()t out tilt' iit'sl witii its two littk' s^u'ckicd (';;";;'h,

arul sh()W('«l licr. ►Slie IuiillIk''! aiiil cImimkmI lin- imiuls

l»l'

while slic t'lit'd

I, iiiaiiiiii.'i, iiiaiiiiiia, wlicic (

ii<l

\()U lict it

Sucii t(M'iity, wrciity t';^'os^ aii<l tluy iiuikc sncli tcciity,

wecnty hii'dics not ;;i'('at Id;;' chickic s like cu'^i's do."

I sinilt'd jis 1 tlioiiiilit of till' da\' I liatl ••ot it Ioiili"

yoari

l.el'

ore

Bal)V," 1

" BaDy,

had th

.saul, " iiiaimiia has iiii«l this cn rr siik-c
slio was a htthi iiii'l, not iiiaiix' xcars older than \'ou
are. Papa was a Httle hoy tlieii, too, an<l he wasn't
always a very j-ood httle how (hir Suiida\', when
liis inaniiiia sent him to Sunday-school, he ran awa\'
to tlie woods with some otlier naui"']it\- ))o\s. Tlicv
clind)ed the trees and took down some hirdies' nests
and hrou<:ht tlieiii home."

"And the poor j)a))a and mamma hirdies' l)ahies
woidd 1)e irone, wouldn't they i "' And the tears stood
in the sweet blue (^yes.

'"Yes, (jllad^'s, their hal)irs were n-onc. 'riic nauj^hty
boys dropped the hahy birds on the around, and left
them tliere to die, wliile they ljroUL;ht liome tlie nest
witli the two little vm[ss not yet hatched."

" How c'ouUl you hear to ki'ep it, mamma V And
she jj^ently touclied witli her baby tinker tlie tiny e<;'*^.

I smiled a<>"aiii as I thouii'lit of the tear-stained face
of her father as he came to see me that afternoon so
long ago.

" Your papa went home that day, Gladys, and his
mamma punished him for being so wicked as to rob

"He gave it to me as a pledge."

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

U| ■•

the poor bird of her baby birdies. Slie told him liow
very wrong it was, and he felt so bad that he asked
her if he niifrht come over and tell me about it. We
lived side by side, and always played together. She
let him come, and with tears in his eyes he told me
how naughty he had been, and asked me to forgive

him.

Then he gave me the nest with its two little

eggs to keep forever, as a pledge that he would not
be so cruel again."

" So my papa was naught}^ once ! " she said, sai a
half pleased, half surprised look swept over her face.

" Yes, darling — naughty once."

With a smile in her eyes, she danced out of the
room, and I could fancy her saying to herself, " when
I'm naughty again I'll tell papa he was nanghty
once."

i»

CHAPTER III.

DO THE FLOWEKS LOVE?

OW my baby loves flowers ! " I said, leanincr
over her as she stood in tlie garden watch"^
ing the flowers.

She had been standing tliere gazing at tlieni with a
very tlioughtful face for several minutes befoi-e I
joined lier. A little humming-bird, and a few honey-
bees were sipping the sweet from flower to flower.

" Mamma," she said, " I've just been watching the
flowers and wondering whether they loved "'each
other. There are so many of them, and they are so
pretty tliat it seems to me they must know some-
thing about each other."

Just at that moment the little humming-bird
darted away from the flower before her face and up
into the sky. She gave a merry little laugh as her
eyes followed it ; then she turned to me (piickly as
a new thought came into her mind.

" Are there mamma flowers and pai)a flowers, just
like there are mannna birds and papa birds ? Or is it
only little things that talk and sing who have papas
and manimav ? "

" Gladys," I replied, " the dear Father in lieaven
has made this world beautifully and wonderfully

30 QUEER QUEStlOXS QtJAINtLV ANSWERED.

and in a sense even the flowers linve a papa and
manniia.

"You remember last ni(^ht when jtapa was readino-
to you of all the living creatures goino- into the ark,
how God had Noah put them all in by ])airs, the male
and the female, that is, the papa and the mamma; not
one bird or one beast went in without his mate.
When (jod first made the wori<«, after He iiad made
the sun and moon and the lovely bright stars ; the
trees, the grass, the birds and the flowers ; the lakes,
the rivers, the mountains, an<l all the beautiful things
which make us so hap])y, then He made a man.
Adam, the first man you know who ever lived in this
world. But Adam was all al(jne : he di<l not have a
mate, and (»od saw that he was lonely. So Ood
made a wife for Adam one day when he was asleep.
When Adam awoke he found lie liad a companion,
and he loved her. And they became the papa and
mannna of a lot of little girls and boys. And just so
it has been ever since ; this world is made u[) of pairs,
and pairs, and pairs."

At that moment a honey-bee lighted on the flower
just in front of Gladys. It sipped the sweet, and
then buzzed away.

"See, see, manuua ! " she cried as it buzzed ai'ouiid,
" its little feet are all covered with the yellow dust of
the flower."

"That is just what I wanted you to notice, my
dear," I replied, as she eagerly watched it. " The
bocs and the insects carry on their feet that bit of
dust from one part of the flower to another; the

I ^

DO THE FLOWERS LOVE ?

wind, too, does its sliare in cai'ryin<^^ it. If it were
not for that we would soon liave no flowers, for the
seeds would he no good, and we could grow no more
plants. Even in the iiowers there is the papa and
the niannna part."

" This, my dear," I said as I plucked a hlossom from
the tree beside me, " is the papa part of the plant,
and this," I said, pointing to the pistil in the centre,
" is the mamma part of the plant. Unless this pollen
dust is carried by some means or other to the pistil,
there will be no seed when the blossom dies, nor will
the fruit ripen on the trees.

" Eveiy apple, every peach, every pear, every tiny
berry on the bushes, was once a tiny pistil, like this
little slender green part which you see in the middle of
the blossom, and one day a soft spring breeze, or some
dear honey-bee in search of sweets, carried this pollen
dust over to this pistil. By this means the pistil re-
ceived power to grow into a seed or ripen into fruit.
Day by day that pistil grew until in the fall papa and
manuna and Gladys walked down into the garden
and picked oft' a lo\'ely rosy peach which had one day
been only a slender green pistil like this one here in
this peach blossom.

" Do you understand, ( dadys ? Everything that
grows has been given life in some such way as this.
Even the flowers and the trees and the fruits have a
manuna and a papa. Tlie pollen dust is the papa, the
pistil is the mamma."

My baby was very thoughtful for a moment. Then
a look of mingled pleasure and adoration swept over
her face.

fsmmm

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

" Oh ! mamma," she said, " everybody loves God,
don't they, for making such a lovely world, and all so
wonderful, too ? Nobody but God could do it, and
nobody here can find out how He did it either ; can
they, mamma ?"

" No, Gladys," I replied, as I looked into that spiritual,
upturned face. " We may study all our life to try to
find out something of the way in wdiich the trees and
the plants and the flowers grow and continue to live
year after year. But after we have spent our life in
that interesting study we can only exclaim, ' His
ways are past finding out.' As we stand in silent
admiration and wonder, and view His works, we cannot
but worship Him who has done all this."

vSlie gathered up the flow^ers in her tiny hands,
while she looked at them lovingly.

" Dear, sweet flowers ! God made you, and I love
you, every one of you. You are God's own Howers,"
she said.

:'l

CHAPTER IV.

A BABY KITTV.

MY little daughter was now six years old. I
had tried earnestly, day by day, to teach her
just as my mother would have had me do, and just as
I felt it was my duty to do with a youno- life that it
might not grow up with false belit^fs and ideas of
things. She had learned much that is generally kept
from children of her age ; yet I knew that I must
keep right on unveiling the wondrous work of God's
creation, if I would forestall all those taintinjjf stories
which are too often whispered from one school child
to another.

She was going to enter school in September, so I
had left just the two months' vacation in which I
would have my little one wholly to myself. I had
been her constant companion from bab3diood ; not that
she had no little friends, but they had been of my
choosing, and little ones who were not allowed to mix
commonly with all children. So I knew that my
darling's mind was still as pure as the dewdrop. But,
when two months more were gone she would be to a
certain extent beyond my control. • I could then no
longer listen to ever}- word which would drop into
her ears ; but I felt that in the six years of close

friendship with my daughter, I had so fully gained

'Itli

34 QUEER QCESTIOXS QUAIXTLV AXSWEItKD.

her love and trust that who would continue to come to
Hie n'ith every thinfij, and I would still be enabled to
'^iiiwe her ari^-jit, to untant,de any strange and fasci-
natin*; untruths which might be cast into her way.

1 was thiidving this early one morning as I stood at
the breakfast room window\ Qui' canary vvassinufinir
joyously in its cage beside me, and our family cat was
lyin<x lazilv at mv feet. Soon I heard a chair set
softly down beliind me, and in a moment two little
hands were clasped over my e3'es.

" Cdadys (Jray !" I answ^ered promptly.

She uncovered my eyes and showered my face v\ith
kisses.

"^Mamma's own little sweetheart!" I said, as I sat
down and took her on my lap. She was still in her
dainty night-robe, and her golden curls fell loosely
about her face. Who wouldn't be a mother { I th(Might
as I looked at her.

"Oh, mannnal" she said, "vou tlon't know what a
lovely dream I had last night. I dreamed grandma
came back, and we were on a little boat on the river.
I told n-randma that I was iroiuii' to school after hoH-
days. 13ut she looked just as sorry; she took my
hands in hers, put them up to her lips, and I felt a
tear fall on them. Then she turned to you and said
something, but I couldn't hear what she said. But
you said, ' Yes, grandma, I will.'

"Then we went away down the river and gathered
flowers. We came back and liad supper, and papa
vras so iilad orandma had returned.

"Wasn't that nice, mamma?"

' ■

;-j

I'f

"(iliulys (!fay 1" T aiiswcivd j^'oiiiptly.

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

"Yes, Gladys, veiy nice," I replied. But I re-
meiubercd only one part of tlie story — my promise to
^•randma.

At that moment the cat awoke, and sauntered over
Leside us. It began purring and rubbing its head
against Gladys' feet. Gladys wasn't always as gentle
as a little angel, and just now she gave a shout, lean-
ed forward (piickly, and caught the cat in her arms.
Then she lu'o-iiii vio-orouslv tumbling it about, .vhile
the cat mewed, and struggled to get free.

"Put the kitten down dear, won't you;'" I said;
" vou are hurting it."

"No, I'm not," she replied with a merry laugh.
"The old kitty is lazy; it will do her good to get
punched." And she gave the cat a little "punch" with
her fist.

"Gladys, dear, stop!" I said firmly.

She looked at me with a half pained expression.
"I didn't hurt it, mannna. I often played with lier
harder than that, and you didn't say a word."

" My dear," I said, as I set the cat on the floor,
"there are reasons for your not being rough with
pussy just now."

" Was I very naughty, mamma?" she said, with a
little <juiver in her voice.

"No, dear, you weren't naughty at all. I had not
told vou yet that \'ou shouI<l be very o-entle with
puss}', so, of course, you didn't know. But mamma is
going to tell you now.

"You know, Gladys, that our big pussy was once a
tiny baby kitty ; that everything that grows in this

A lUHV KITTY.

world wuH once only a baby. The great big oak tree
at the foot of the garden was once a tiny baby tree,
juHt a slip that (da<lys could have broken with her
little hands. Every tree, every bush and flower, t'very
cat or horse or dog or cow — everything was once only
a baby, and had to grow big. We have never yet had
a baby kitty here, but we are going to have one be-
fore very long. They are such sweet helpless little
things that I know 3'ou will love them."

Her young face was all aglow. "Is God going to
send us .some nice little kitties, mannna, ju.st like Ethel
James had f"

"Yes, Gladys, God is going to send us the kitties,
but He isn't iroino- to bring them right down from
heaven for us any more than He does the birdie.s.
The kitties nmst have a mamma, as well as the birdies,
or how could they live ? They wouid have no one to
take care of them and feed ihem."

" And is our big pussy going to be a mannna { "

"Yes, Gladys."

" And where is she going to get her little kitties,
mamma ^ "

" My dear," I replied, " God, who has planned every-
thing so wisely, has lovingly thought of those tiny
creatures. He has prepared a home, a sort of cradle,
where they might live and grow till they were big
and strong enough to live in the world.

"That tiny little cradle He has formed inside the
pussy's body, and the baby kitties, which were at first
onl}^ a speck, have grown day by day till now they
are pretty nearly strong enough to live in the world.

iri

' I

(^IKEH QUESTIONS QHAIXTLY ANSWERED.

Perluips tlu'ro will be tlirco or foir kitties, wc cannot
tell till thev are born. So we must be very curefnl
with })ussy or we will hurt those baby kittie.s. And
il" we hui't them it hurts pussy, too. If we were
very rounh witli her it niij^ht kill the kitties. 80 I
want you to be very gentle and kind with puss}'.

" God has nuide that little cradle-home so perfectly
that when the kitties are stronix and h\<x enouo-h to
live in the world it opens, and the little baby kitties
are born. They will be very small and tender, and
you will have to be very gentle with them for two or
three weeks."

" Where will pussy put her little kitties, mannna ?
What if she would carry them away ofi' and hide them
so I couldn't find them :' "

" She will not do that, dear. Pussy likes to stay in
the house too well, and be near you. Pu.ssy usually
finds a little nest for herself in the hay or straw, and
leaves her kitties there for a few days. Then she
brings them up to the kitchen, and coaxes us with her
gentle purr to let her leave them there."

(iladys' face brightened. " Oh, mannna, I have
just thought of something I Mayn't I take a nice
little box, like my doll house, and line it all nice and
soft, and put it in the kitchen in the corner for pussy
to keep her kitties in till they get big enough to run
around alone."

" Good ! " I replied. " You could do nothing that
would please me better ; and I know pussy would
love to be treated so."

Gladys went right to work, and the whole day was

A RAHV KITTV.

Spent in cushioning tliu iloor of tlic little liox, tnekino'
up Ktrips of old Milk and velvet aroun<l the sides, .'iiid
papering tlie outside of tlie b(jx. I never saw the
child work with such interest before. Every now and
thtiu I could hear her give a little sif^has she hanniieied
away at the tacks, or stood back to inspect her work.
At last she had it all finislied ! Just then pu.ssy came
up to her, and slowly rubbed her liead back and forth
on liladys' dres.s. Gladys sat down on the floor and
took the cat on her lap.

" Now, pussy," she said seriously, while she <,^ently
stroked her sleepy head, " niannna told me all about it,
how God is goint^ to let you have some kitties all your
own. And you wdll love them and be good to thenj
'cause God has made your heart all full of love. I'm
going to be good to your baby kitties, too, when they
come. I don't want them to get all rained on or cold,
or get their little eyes sticked out vvitli the sti'aw in the
barn, or I don't want the chickens to pick them, so I
made this little house for them. It is all soft and nice in
the bottom, and you can lie there with them just
lovely."

Then she placed the cat in the box, saying :

" Don't you see, old pussy, how nice it is ? And
mamma said I could leave the box right here in the
corner. So you needn't run away to sleep at all, and
you must put your kitties right here when they come."

She threw a little, old, silk shawl over the cat, and
then came running to me to tell me what she had done.

For the next week Gladys watched anxiously for
the kitties to appear. When she kissed me "good-

QITEE1{ QTKSTIOXS QTAlNTf.V AXSWF.HEI).

llil^lll,'" sIh' Wnllld ;isk nil' il' I llmil-lit IIm' l^iltiiS

would lir In re ill tlif iiioniiiii;. Ami tlic lirsl woid in
tlic iiKiiiiiii''' Wfis, "Did tlir kit (ics coiiir, iii;i III Ilia ' "

Oil Satui'day ni^lil tliiTc kittirs wcrf Ixirii. 1
found tlu! drai' little pets in their house on Sunday
iiioniiii'''. Wlifii (iludvs awoke I was staiidiiiu' hv
lier ci'il>, siiiiliiiL;- down at liei'. She opened hei' eyes
wide, then cried <(ui('kly :

"Oh, niaiiinia, iiiainiiia. they ciinie 1 I can see it
sniilino- out ol' your eyes."

" ^'es, s\Veetlieai"t, tliey came," 1 re})lied, as she
tlnvw liei' ai'iiis around my neck and kissecl me
rapturously.

"And did papa see them ;* " slie went on excitedly.
" And is th(! old ])ussy awful ^lad : and did she kiss
thuni just us she kisses me :' "

Unable to restrain liersell' lon<;'er she spi'an<4- fVom
my arms, and bounded lightly down the stairs.

When 1 iVnnid her she was sitting* on the iloor, the
bi^ pussy under her arm, and the three baby kitties
inker lap. Her face was radiant with smiles, and she

was savnio' :

"You arc the sweetest little kitties that ever lived
I have waited for vou for sueli a (.reat Ion*!- while,
too, for mamma told me you w-i-j comino-. Aren't
you <ijlad, you dear little thinos, that you are here ^
Pussy loves you so much, too, cause you are her own
little babies. And 1 am iioiiiij' to ii'i^e vou each a
pretty name, and well play to^'ether every day. See
wliat a nice little house I made for you. If mamma
hadn't told me about you I wouldn't lia\e had this

'Hi

" Manuua told me aliout you.'

1-1

I I

QUEElt QUESTIONS QUAIXTI.V ANSWEREI).

all ready, an,l ,„a,ybo .some old thing i„ t,,e barn
«ould i,a.c eat™ you „p. Don't y,,,, love n.y
maninia, kitties >." J ■- my

"Tliey said ■yes; ,„ai,„„a," slie e.ied. laUKhinsly
as she ran back up-stairs to got ,lre.sse,l.

n
f

aril
my

CHAPTER V

A 15IRTHDAY ]>ARTV.

ONE al'ternoon, during the summer, a little girl
called, and wanted C^ladys to come to her
birthday party. She was a few years older than
Gladys, and neai'ly all the girls invited were older,
too. At first I was about to refuse, but she bepfired

too

of me so earnestly to let hei* come and have some
fun with the rest of the girls, that 1 hardly knew
what to do. I still dreaded having Gladys thrown
into a promiscuous crowd, of girls, for I knew only
too well the dangers such crowds involved. Not that
I ever dreamed that all little girls were naughty ; but
I knew it was hard to find a single crowd in which
there would not be at least one who, from false train-
ing, or unfavorable surroundings, had had her mind
stored with wrong thoughts. I knew, too, that those
curious young mir \s ,reie usually just as eager to
listen as the otl:er ,vas eager to tell. But, after
thinking over i: . ^r a few minutes, I said:

"1 have never yi:t allowed Gladys to go out to any
gathering without me, but this time I am o-ointr to
leave it witli her to decide. If she wishes to go she
may."

The great blue eyes spoke volumes. Slie took my
hand in hers and laid her Hieek against, iu as she said
pleadingly :

4;:

mmmmmmm

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

' 1
I

" \'()U won't l)u sorry if I go, iiiainin;i, will you !
J will be just as *^"ood, us good."

" Yon may go, darling," I answered, kissing her.

The day of the party came. How eager and
expectant she was I She was going to a real party.
She looked like a fairy, indeed, as slie started oft' in
lier snowy dress, her cheeks ahnost as pink as her
sash, and her curls fallinj'" about her smilin<»: face.
She waved lier dear little liand to me as she went
down the street, and I closed the door wondering
how it would turn out.

That night as I was about to hiy her in her little
bed, she chisped her arms around my neck, saying:

" Wait a minute, mamma, I want to have a little
talk with you."

We sat down together. Slie looked very serious,
and, I thought, a little sad.

" Mannna," she continued, " I told you most all
about the party, what lovely presents she got, what
games we played, and all about the grand supper she
gave us ; but there was one thing I didn't tell you."

Her eyelids drooped for a moment : then she looked
u}) at me half shyly as she went on :

" There was one girl there, I guess she must be a
nice girl, for they all seemed to like her best ; when
tliey saw her coming they all ran to meet her, and
most of them wanted to stay by her all the time.
She was older than the rest of us, and tliey told me
when she came in that she knew a whole lot of things
none of tlie rest of us knew. They said she would
tell us some irrcat stories if we coaxed her."

A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

" What (lid you think of her, darHng ? " I said.

Slie placed her soft Httle hands on my clieeks : " I
di(hi't like her a bit, niamnia. I believe she is
nauf^-hty, even if all the girls did like her so well.
She said a lot of naughty words ; and when she was
telling us stories she talked in a whisper, and acted
as if she was afraid some one would hear her. The
girls all got up in Hazel's play-room and sat on
the floor around her. I can't remenil)er all she said,
but I know she told some things which cannot be
true. I know^, too, that it was not nice for her to
tell it. She said her father liad a farm away out in
the country, and it had a wonderful woods in it. She
said that liere and there all over the woods there were
great caves, which had been there for thousands of
years, and that they were full of little colts. When-
ever a man wanted a little colt he sent to her father
for it, and her father took it to him : and he i>:ot
money for it, so that he was getting very rich.

"1 asked her how the little colts got in the caves:
.It"' she said there were ponds in the centre of the
CHVj;;^ and the colts hatched in the w^ater, and came
\ I the top. They climbed up on the bank to get dry,
.u"i tb:?n her father caught them.

' When she said that the girls all looked as if they
thought it was wonderful, and asked her if many
people knew about it. She said 'no,' that her father
never told anybody, and that she w'ouldn't have known
it only she heard him talking about it one day with
her brother. She said he would be very angry if he
i new she had heard it, so they must nevei- breathe it
to a living soul."

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

I !'

lllil

" What did you say to that, Gladys ?" I asked.

She blushed. " You won't be cross at uie, mamma,
will you ? But I was so angry at her I said : 'You
are a nasty, bad girl 1 I don't believe that story at all.
I'm going to ask mamma just as soon as I get home
if that is the way little colts grow ! '

"Then the girls all laughed at me and said I was
silly, and that it would be very mean of me to tell
when she had said we must not. But the big girl
frowned at me and i -ked as if she woald like to slap
me, as she said :

"' You crazy kid, youi • other doesn't know any-
thing more about where colts come from than you do.
How can anybody know when only my father has
the woods ?'

" I got up and stamped my foot at her. 'I don't
believe the colts ever came out of your woods,' I cried,
'and I'm going to ask mamma to night, for she knows,
and she will tell me.' Then I ran down stairs and
wouldn't listen to her any longer. But I heard her
sav as I went :

" ' I don't see why people send babies to parties.
Fancy asking her mother ! As if her mother v\ ould
tell her ! I used to ask my mother lots of things,
where colts and kittens and babies and everytliing
came from, but she never told me. She would pre-
tend she didn't hear me, or tell me to run off and not
bother her. 1 learned what I know by listening and
watching and reading. But I'll not tell her another
thing if she never learns. So there ! '

"Then I heard the others say, ' never mind, she is
gone now. Tell us some more.'

A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

" When we were coining home one of the ^irls said
to me, * Ha, ha, Gladys, you missed it I She told us
a whole lot of things after you left — thinf^s I bet you
will never find out for a good long time.'

"'Are you going to ask your maunna if it is all
true ?' " I said.

" Then they all laughed at me and asked me how
old I was ; and if I thought they didn't know any
more than I did. They said mothers never talked
about such things to their children, and tliat they
would not for anything tell her what they had heard."

As I looked into my little daughter's confiding face
my eyes filled with tears. How sad to think of a
mother whose daughter could not trust her. How
sad to think of a dear young girl, that tenderest of all
God's creatures, growing up without a mother's guid-
ance. I felt at that moment that it would break my
heart if this little daughter of mine would not un-
burden to me her every trouble.

" Dearest," I said, " mamma will make that matter
all clear to you. You felt sure from what you already
knew of God's great plan of creation that a little colt
never came into the world in that way. There are
creatures bred in the water, but not horses "

She smiled brightl}". " Yes, I know, little fishes get
hatched in the water, don't they ^ "

" Yes, dear, and when mannua cleaned the fish to-
day you remember what a lot of little eggs we found
in them. You did not forget, did you, that I said tlie
fish laid those eggs and they were hatched into little
fishes, which grew big in the water.

4cS QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

'■ Certain of tlio creatures which God has made are
<(iveii their yo'in^r by the hatching of the eggs which
they have hiid. Among these are fish, all kinds of
birds and fowl ; the iiies which bother mamma so
much in the summer time, and all kinds of insects.

• I

!¥;■

Then there is the other part of God's creatures in
whose bodies He has formed a sort of cradle home,
wluM-e their young ones live for awhile till they grow
large enough to liNe here. Then that home opens and
they are l)orn into the world, as the little kitties were.
The larger animals all have their little ones in that
way."

A HIHTHDAV I'AIITV.

Gladys clapped her hands to<>;ether. " And tliat is
the way little colts come, isn't it, niauinia ? I knew
that nani^hty gii'l told a story ; she doesn't know any-
tliinn: about it, does she ?"

" Not very niucli, dear. But do you know why-
she doesn't know ? "

The smile faded from her face. " Because nobody
tells her, I suppose. All those little ^irls said they
wouldn't for any thino; ask their mammas where those
little colts came from. And if they didn't find out
the truth from their mammas where could the} <;et
it ? I guess nobody else would tell them.

" At first I thought I wouldn't tell you till moin-
ing ; but when you knelt downi and asked God to
keep us true to each other ; that I might never keej)
anything back from you, but that I would always
remember you were not only my mother but the best
friend I w^ould ever have in this world : and you
prayed that my mind might not have in it any wrong
or false thoughts, or anything which Jesus could not
bless ; then I felt that I couldn't rest till I had told
you all about to-day's talk at the party."

I drew the little face neanT to mine, and my tears
fell on her cheek.

" Mannna," she said softly, " perhaps some mammas
have so many little boys and girls that the}'' don't get
time to get ac(|uainted with them, and have nice long-
talks like we do."

" Perhaps so, darling," I replied. I tucked her in
her little bed, and left the room wondering how much
truth there might be in her last words.

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

I Stood by tlie window thinking it over for a few
minutes, then I said slowly :

"I would manage somehow. I would put fewer

nils on the little dresses. I wouhl iron fewer wldto

sk.rts. My iioor might not be so spotless ; the pantry

shelves might not be so well filled, hnf / ,.../,; /,, ^

confidante of mi/ r/uMrnL"

■

CHAPTER VI.

THE NEW BAIiV.

i.
1^

NE week more and scliool would be^iii. But
there was one problem yet whicli must be
explained before I could let my little one mingle in
the school ground with other children. It was a
question which had not yet seemed to cross her mind,
but I knew that it soon must, as it always does chil-
dren of her age, and often younger. It was that
puzzling question which has been asked somewhere,
by someone, day after day since the world began,
namely, " Where did the baby come from ? "

I had never yet taken her to see a new-born babe ;
but her auntie now had a little one about a week old,
and I took her w^th me to see it.

As we entered the gate, I said, " Gladys, auntie
has a little baby boy which you have never seen
before."

That was all that was said about it. I left her in
the sitting-room with the nurse who sat by the cradle
where the baby lay sleeping, and I went to see her
auntie. In a few minutes her little cousin came
dancing into the room. They at once began discus-
sing the new baby brother; and as the nurse was
called into the bed -room to my sister-in-law, the
children were left alone. From where I sat I could

see them plainly.

4 61

(.njKKii grrsTioNs (,)I'ainti,v a\s\vf:i{i:i).

" It is the nicest l)<'il)y that ever whs in tlie worhl,"
said ('(Hisin Lillie, as slie turned down tlie blanket a
litthi tliat (dadys iiii;;ht <;'<'t a better view of it.

" How do you know it is :*" asked Gladys teasin^ly.

"How do 1 know:*" returned Lillie ((uite indif^-
nantly. " Why 1 do you suppose we would get a baby
that wasn't the nicest there is;* Papa bought it; he
told me he did. And he said when he bu^'s anything
he alwa^'s gets the best."

Glade's took the little hand in hers, and tenderly
touched the tiny fingers. She had never seen any-
thing like it before. Her face was a study of wonder
and admiration.

"It is most as little as my doll," she said softly.
Then she leaned her face closer and closer over it till
her lips touched its forehead.

" I wish we had one at our place, too," she continued.
" I would love it, oh, so nnich !"

After a moment's thoughtful silence her face
bi'ightened, and she (piickly said:

" Where did your papa get it ( ^Faybe we can get
one, too."

"From the doctor," replied Lillie promptly. "He
came here one morning early, before 1 was up, and
papa said he had a valise full of them. Papa bought
the best one he had, so if you do get one it won't be
as nice as this one."

A little doubtful look swept over Gladys' face when
Lillie said the doctor had ' a valise full of them."
But in the next moment it passed away ; for why
should she doubt either her uncle's or her cousin's
word ^

■I'

torn

• V

tti

'■Where (lid your papa get if.'"

r r

(^rEKIl (jrESTFONS (JUAINTI.V AXSWKHIM).

(jhidys laid Ik'I- liand lovin^^Iy on tlic l)ul)y'.s Torn

lu'ud

iiLOim.

" How Ion;;' liavo you had it, Lillit; :* "

"Oh, about a week. 'I'lio (h)ctor l)i'ounlit it to us
one Suiwhiy iiioi'uiujj. '

I knew from luy litth' dau;4htt'i''.s face tliat slic \vas
tryinf( to solvo a pi'obhMu in Iwr own mind. Finally
sho said very seriously :

" Where did tlie doctor i^ct it, Lillie ;* "

This WHS too much for Lillie She shook her hea<],
tlien laut^h('<l li^litly.

" Oil, J don't know. I never thought to ask papa.
Maybe the doctor never told him.

.Just then the nurse returne(l to the room, and
Lillit^ sprano- the ([Uestion on her at once.

" Say, nurse, wliere did the doctor <^et our baby:'
Papa said lie b(3U<4'ht it fiom the doctor, but (Jladys
wants to know liow the doctor <;ot it."

The nur.se lautjjlied. " Vou are two silly, in(juisitive
cliildren. What ditferenco does it make to you where
the baby came from ? "

" Well, I <;uess it makes a lot of ditt'erence," .said
Lillie sharply. " Gladys wants to ^et one, too."

" Let her ask the doctor then. He always keeps
lots of them," replied the nurse.

Gladys touched the tiny little tinf^ers on the blanket
again, more tenderly than ever. Then, looking
squarely into the nurse's face, said quietly :

" Don't you know where he gets them / "

" Why, of course, I know," she answered lightly.
" The doctor keeps a great, big garden full of cabbages,

THE NEW BAHV.

•>

mid tlw; l»al)i<'H ;^r<)W undor tlu' ('iil)l)ji<^'(' leaves. Wlicn
iiMvl)()dv wants one lie sells it to tln'iii."

I conid see the aii'M'V tcais in (Jladvs' eyes. "Do
you tliiiik," slie refilicd, " tliat (Jod would let dcai',
sweet, little l)al)ies liki! this live out on the cold j^round
under hard old cal)l)}i;^'o leaves, when; the rain could
pour on them, and the do<^^s hite them, or the cats
scratch tlieii' or the cows eat thcni up :* "

She turnci to tli<' l)al)y a;4;iin ; her face ^rew softrr ;
and on a suddm impulse sin: kissed it so (piickly, and
so passionately, tliat it awoke with a scream.

We stayed hut a few minutes lon<,^er, and all the
way liome (lladys nt.'ver spoke a word. When we
ii'ot inside a<!;ain she sat down in In r little rockei",
liurie<l her face in lier hands, and Ite^-an to cry.

■' What is the matter, dearest ^ " I said, as I sat
<lown on tli(i floor in front of her.

"Oil, mamma, mamma !" she replit'd, " 1 won't ever
be able to l^elieve anybody in the world but you and
})apa. Everybody t<'lls me stories. I know tliey told
me stories this afternoon."

Then slie raised her liead, shook back the curls from
her face, while her eyes Hashed.

" You never ijot me out from inider an old cabbage
leaf, did vou mamma ( "

I took lier little hands in mine. I realized now how
really hard it was to tell this little daughter of mine
how God had (riven her to me. Although I had tried
to train her so carefully concernintr the reproduction
of plant and animal life, in her childish innocence she
had not before seemed to (piestion her own existence. I

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

Ucii

had tried to lead gently up to this point that it might
seem natural and easy for her to understand ; but even
now it seemed rather difficult for me.

" Gladys," I said, " wlien God has provided so
lovingly for the care, before tlieir birth, of His crea-
tures to whom He has given no eternal spirit, will
He not much more lovingly provide for those whom
He has made in His own imaire ? "

The great blue eyes seemed to drink in my mean-
ing, for they were tender and full of response ; but
she said simply :

" Yes, mamma."

It was half a question, half a request, and I knew
she wanted a full explanation.

" Gladys," I said softly, and she drew a little nearer
to me, "God has given to woman the sweet privilege
of becomino" a mothei'. The mother-love is strong: in
her heart long before she becomes one. You have
shown that love yourself, my deai', in your fondness
for your dolly. 1 haxe seen you often hold it in your
arms and sing to it, and whisper sweet words to it, as
if it knew. It was only that mother-love which God
has planted in a woman's heart. That love grows
with years, until, when she no longer holds a motion-
less dolly in her arms, but a sweet, dimpled, living
babe, her love has reached its highest pitch : that love
which can never die, iio matter what that child does,
for it is a part of her being. For nine long months
before the world knew or cared anything about it,
the mother thouglit of that tiny being which was
being nourished in her own l)od3% in that little cradle-

THE NEW BABY.

home which the Heavenly Father had provided for it.
Day by da}' she tlioii<rht of it, and her love grew for
it. And when at last it is born into the world the
mother takes it into her arnus, and it is evermore
placed among her priceless treasures."

My little daughter's face seemed to me as beautiful
as an angel's. She had been <lriidving in every word,
the love-^'ght deepening in her eyes and her expres-
sion ever changing. I^^ow her face was aglow with a
mingled expression of exaltation and jo}^ wonder and
reverence.

" You loved me, mamma, a long, long while before
I came into this world, and you knew that 1 was
coming. Oh, mamma ! "

She clasped her little hands together and looked
into my face.

" Yes, darling," I replied. My eyes were swinnning
with tears and my voice trembled.

"And did papa know it, too; did p{i})a love me
then ? " she asked without changing her attitude.

" Yes; he knew it; he loved you, too."

" And every papa and mamma know before their
baby comes that God is going to give it to them { "

" Yes. dear."

" So auntie and uncle didn't buy their baby at all ;
and people never buy them from doctors." A shadow
crossed her face. " Why then, mamma, did uncle tell
tliat awful story to Lillie ? When God has made a
woman so wonderfully that a sweet little angel baby
can live and grow in her body till it is big enough
for this \vorld ; and when God loves them so well as

Irr

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTl.Y ANSWEKED.

to let them have little children, how can they bear to
say they found tlieni in the garden or in the woods ? "

" I don't know, Glad^^s, how they can do it. Mam-
ma loves both her babv and her God too well to tell
wdiat isn't true about His great, good plan of crea-
ion.

Gladys sat thinking for a few minutes, then said :

" Did it make auntie sick when her baby wr
born ?"

I looked for a moment into the innocent blue eyes,
and wondered if it was because one (juestion leads on
to another till one is at a loss how to answer them,
that many mothers get out of the difficulty b}' being
silent about them all.

" Yes, Gladys," I replied, " 3'our auntie is sick be-
cause her baby w^as born. All over this earth, every
mother who has ever lived has suffered pain when a
young life was given to the world. But no matter
how great her pain is, she forgets it soon in her joy
over her dear little one."

Gladys' face was full of sympathy.

" And you suffered, mannna, when I came to you ^ "

" Yes, darling, but not so much as many mothers
do, for I was strong and healthy, and took plenty of
out-door exercise, and dressed in the most loose and
comfortable clothing so that your young life might
not be hindered in its growth, and thus when you
were born I did not suffer as I otherwise might have.
Yet I suffered more then than in all the rest of my
life together."

I never saw my babj^'s face look so old before.

THE NEW BABY.

She clasped her hands over lier knees and said,
slowly :

" So every mamma, then, all over the world, has
suffered much for her little ^irls and boys when they
were born, and afterwards she keeps ri^ht on work-
ing for them and watching over them. Oh, what a
whole heartful of love God must give to every
mannna I " .

" More than we can measure," I replied.

'■ I don't believe," she went on, thoughtfully, " tliat
little boys and girls very often stop to think how
much their mannnas love them, or how much they
have done for them. If only they knew, if only their
mamma told them, they would love her l)etter and
be kinder to her."

Then she slipped her childish arms around my
neck and said, sweetly :

" Mannna, I shall try never to be naughty any
more, nor ever unkind to you again. I loved you
before, and I knew you loved me, but I did not know
that you had given mc my life that I was a part of
your very self. I cannot tell you how nmcli I love
you 1 "

QUEER QUESTION'S QUAINTLY ANSWEllED.

WHEItE DID THE BABY COME FUOM !*

Whore (lid you come from, baby dear
Oat of tlie everywliere into here.

lerc (

lid

^oii ire

t tl

eyes

lie

Out of the sky, as I came through.

Wliere did you (fat that little tear :*
I found it waitiiijjf when I fjot liere.

Wlmt makes your forehead so smooth and higli?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your elieek like a warm, white rose ?
I saw somethinn- better than anyone knows.

Wlience that three-cornered smile of bliss ?
Three ano-els <>ave me at once a kiss.

Where did you y'et this pn^tty ear ?
Ood s[)oke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and liands ?
Love made itself into hooks and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things :*
From the same box as the cherub's wings.

How did they all come to be just you ?
God thought of me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us you dear .'
God thought of you, and so I am here.

— Geouge Macdoxald.

)

SWWBH"

umssmi0 X s^sJ S iSWiiS SS S l

"Where did the ltal>v ciniie from".'

f
1'
#1

Bi'f

CHAPTER VII.

A HEALTHY CHILD.

was a ciorioiis summer

lay.

A little m'

oup

mothers sat under tlie shade of a great tree near
the shore. A few rods fi'om us a group of happy
children were playing in the sand.

" Well, I cannot understand it, Mrs. Gray, I cannot:
wdiat ever keeps my little girl so delicate while yours
is so strong? If I liad a great family of children I
might think it was because I hadn't time to care for
her. But I have only the same as you. Now, I am
sure no mother ever took more care of a child than I
take of mine. I do everything anyone ever suggests,
and she is never without medicine ; and I am sure I
am always faithful to give it just as the doctor pre-
scribes : but in spite of everything I can do she
remains weak and delicate."

At that moment tlie child appeared on the scene.

" Wh}^ child 1 " exclaimed her mother, " look at
your white dress that I nearly killed myself ironing-
yesterday. Now, do sit down here by me and be still
for a little while. You won't be tit to go home if 3'ou
play around much longer.."

The child sat still for a few minutes, and then said:

"Oh mamma, do let me take oft" my shoes. All the

rest of the girls are wading in the water."

A HEALTHY CHILD.

"Take oli' your shoos ! Why, my dear cliilcl, do you
want to be sickT'

Then turninor to us slie said, "I can never let her ^o
hare-footed. She would have a cold in half an hour.
Lay your head down here on nianima's lap and have
a little nap," she continued, addressinjj^ the child.

"I don't want to have a nap," exclaimed the child
peevishly. "I want to take my shoes oft' and play in
the water."

" Well, you cannot, my dear, so 3'ou may as well
keep (juiet. '

She did so for a few minutes, then said, more fret-
fully than before :

"Mamma, I'm hungry. Can't I have a piece?"

'Oh, yes. Do run ofi' and don't bother me. The
basket is there under the tree ; but don't get pie and
cake all over your dress, and dont go on the beach, for
the water spoils your shoes."

The child ran off", got a large piece of rich chocolate
cake, and sat down to eat it.

My soul was filled with indignation. Had Mrs.
Devon been my dearest friend, and it had been at the
risk of losing her friendship forever, I think I should
have spoken just as plainly as I did.

"Mrs. Devon" I said, "you are sinning against that
child. You wonder vvh}^ my little girl is healthy and
yours delicate ; shall I tell you why? I verily believe
that you have made your child what she is through
vainly striving to make her healthy. I am going to
give you just a little sketch of the treatment Gladys
has received, and then see if you wonder that I have
such a perfectly healthy child.

I I

QUEER (QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

"She Wcis born the first of February. My first
tliou;^ht was for her clothing. It was light, soft, and
pcrfcrflij loose. The soft flannel band was discarded
entirely at the end of the second week. If tight
bands injure grown people, how nnicli more must they
torture poor little infants. Her dresses were all made
' Mother Hubbard,' and only about twelve inches be-
low her feet. I put on her first a soft, long-sleeved
woolen shirt. Next over this a long-.sleeved flannel
skirt, made to hang from the neck like a slip, for the
delicate vital or^rans of the little body must not be
bound up with bands: tlien a flannel skirt made as the
otlier, only without sleeves. Over these was put her
loose dress. No cruel 'pinning blanket' was ever
piled around her tiny feet, so that she could not toss
her little legs without tiring herself out; but instead,
long cashmere stockings were put on her from the
first. These were pinned to the diapers, and the
little feet were free to kick. The diapers, too, were
always pinned as loosely as possible.

"'i'hat was my little daughter's winter clothing
When it became warm in the spring, I removed the
tlannel skirt with the sleeves, leaving on the slnrt and
skirt without sleeves. When it became intensely
warm, the shirt was taken off", leaving on only the
flannel slip with sleeves. Now, this is the proper and
approved method of dressing an infant, and if they
were all thus dressed, there would be fewer crying,
sickly babies.

"My next thought was for her food. Many children
liave their stomachs ruined befoi'e they are weaned.

I ■

A HEALTH V CHILI).

Every time they cry tliey are fed. It is such an easy,
hizy way of silencing them. Tliey are fed at any
time, and in many cases, anythinf^ ; and as an in-
evitable consetjuence tliey are troubled with indi-
irestion and tliarrhea. It seems bad enoujih for an
adult to suiter from indigestion as a conse(|uence of
his ffluttonv, but does it not seem criminal that an
infant shall thus be made to suffer ^ The first two
months of her life, I fed her every two hours during
the day, and two or three times during the night, but
never oftener. At three months I began feeding her
every three hours instead of two. After five months
I never fed her during the night. She would sleep
the whole night through without waking. It is from
over-feeding, instead of want of it that makes so
many children nervous and wakeful at nights. She
always slept alone — sleeping with others often makes
children uncomfortable and restless. Then, too, I
was always careful to give her a little cold water
every day. Vomiting and constipation are often
caused from want of a little cold water daily. If a
baby is fed on cow's milk, the milk should be diluted
with about one third sweetened water.

" For two years I never allowed her to come to the
table at all, or use such food as grown persons do.
Her chief diet was milk, wheat-bread and milk, germ
wheat and oatmeal ; now and then a soft boiled egg,
but the chief part was purely milk. And thus was
laid the foundation for a strong, healthy stomach.

" Why, do you know that the French goverinnent
has passed a law forbidding any one, parents or

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAIXTI.V AXSWEUEl).

others, to fi^ivo solid food of any kind to a cliild under
one year of a<]fe, unless by special prescription of a
physician ? The char<ije would be ' guilty of attempt
kill.' It is the frequent c()ni[)laint of piiysicians that
ij^norantor careless parents kill their infants by *jfivin<i^
them solid food. That remin<ls me, too, of what I
saw in the Aincricnti Joiirna! of Jlcalth, that a
mother whose year-old bal)y died, exclaimed : ' I don't
know why she died. She was perfectly well this
mornino;. Why, she ate three fried cira's ! '

" Bathinn; is another important factor. Careless-
ness with re(j;ard to bathing is often the cause of
serious trouble. For the first two days of Glady's
life she was not bathed in water, but thoroughly oiled
with pure olive oil which was applied with a piece ^f
very soft flannel, and then rubbed dry with a fresh
piece. For the first week she was not entirely stripped
and washed, as that is too exhaustin"- for a new-born
babe. After the first week she was bathed every
day, but not until she was three weeks old was she
put into the water. I then put her in the wash-bowl,
and supported her with one hand, while I w^ashed her
with the other. I was always careful to use the best
castile soap.

" Very often a child will cry \vhen there seems to
be no apparent cause. I think it is caused usually
from a restless, nervous feeling. I very often found
that gently rubbing Glad^'s' back from top to bottom,
in a circular movement, would quiet her when nothing
else would. I never rocked her, and when she cried
at night I would change her position, and give her a

tjfi

A IlKAI/niY ('iriLD.

rubbin^j, sometiinos only tlie back, soinotimes both
front uiid back. Slic would usually drop to sleep
durin<; tlie operation. She never luid one drop of any
kind of soothin*;' syrup, nor had slie a (hiy's colic ; but
I was niost careful about niv own diet, tliat she nii(;ht
not be distressed by it.

"The first of June I shortened lier. She wore soft
cashmere stock inti's witliout .slioes all that sunnner.
The next sunnner as soon as it became really warm,
I took off both shoes and stockin<^s ; and she has fjone
barefooted every summer since. I suppo.se now that
slu! is six, she is almost too old to lon<(er enjoy such
healthful freedom, but she shall (^o without her shoes
until she a' ks me to have them on. The direct con-
tact with the earth conveys the nuich needed electric-
ity to the body, and I am not obli^'ed to be rubbing
her with electrified liniments. If there is one thiufr
I am anxious about it is the feet of my baby. She
isn't a Chinese child, but the daughter of a Christian
mother, and I don't want her to go limping through
life as if she were the former. I have seen so many
girls and women go hobbling and limping along from
corns and bunions, and swollen feet that it makes me
sluidder to think that my loved one would ever have
to suffer so. I have tried to teach her that a beauti-
ful foot is a broad, strong foot which can carry with-
out effort or pain a strong, healthy body.

" Since she has i^^rown larfjer her stouiach has never
become tired or worn out b}^ constant piecing. If she
is hungry between meals she is given milk to drink.
She has always eaten a great deal of fruit, but not

QUEEU QFESTIOXS (^rAFXTI.V ANSWEUFD.

betwoon moalH. Kniit is our fi rsf course at taMt;
never our last. She lias never yet tasted meat. Mr.
Gray and \ do not cat it at all, and when she ^rovvs
up slie may aet her j)leasun' about usin^ it, but I
think it is wrono* to huc/i a child to eat llesli food.
They very often have to be tauj^lit to eat it. I
have seen mothers coax tluur children to Ju.st take a
few bites and see how ^^oo<l it was. We always have
some kind of nuts or nut preparation for dinner in
place of meat.

" We have never had a doctor in the house sinc(!
she was born, although she lias had her childish sick
spells the same as others. I believe that all diseasii
is caused by breaking- some law, and that if we have
been livine- pretty nearly ri^ht previously, nature
will adjust the ditlieulty if she is patiently given a
little time. lUit if you want your children to be
sickly I can give you an unfailinjj;" prescription : Load
their delicate stomachs with meclicine, till their young
systems with the poison of drugs, and they will be
sickly, just as sickly as anyone could wish.

" The only serious illness Gladys ever had was
diphtheria. I Mould not advise every mother not to
call a physician for such a dreadful disease ; but I
had had it twice myself, and knew its nature and
cure so well that I felt sater with her by myself.
But had she not known how to gargle I dont know
what I should have done. A child cannot be taught
to gargle too young ; and it is something which no
mother should fail to teach her every child, for many
a little life might thus be saved. Gladys could gargle
when she was only two years old.

o
u

1*1

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWEUED.

Ill '

" She has had two or three bad colds, but not on
tlie hinfifs. A chest protector from early fall till late
in the spring, and rubbino- lier lungs once or twice a
week, duriiiir the winter, with pure olive oil have

ented that trouble. Her colds have been in the

liead, and as soon as each was broken I crushed cubeb
berries and had her smoke them for several days in a
new clay pipe, letting the smoke out the nostrils.
This will often cure catarrh, and will, I believe, if
always use<l after a cold, entirely prevent that foul
disease.

" I have taught her, too, that a girl is just as good
as a boy. She has been allowed the privi'ege of
every out-door sport that a boy couhl possi!)ly enjoy.
If we had more athletic women, we would have fewer
unhappy homes. Gladys has so far almost lived out
of doors. She plays liorse, skips the rope, climbs
trcv^s, builds play-houses, helps make garden — she
may do anything, and with my wdiole-hearted per-
mission, that any healthy, pure-minded child cares to
do.

" One day a few weeks ago she had climbed up to
the top of that great tree in our garden. An old
gentleman came up through that way from the river.
He spied Gladys, but, at tirst, did not see me. He
looked horrified.

" ' Why, why, girlie 1 don't }'ou want to be a little
lady ? No little lady ever climbs trees.' "

" ' Then I don't want to be a little lady,' she
answered, with a merry laugh. ' ^Mamma is the kind
of lady I like, and she can climb trees almost as well
as I can ; can't you, mamma ( ' "

A HEALTHY CHILD.

ttm

" He now cau<^"ht sight of me, and looked very
embarrassed.

'"Beg your pardon, ma'am," he said, liurriedly.

"'Not at all,' I replied, with a smile. ' Beg the
pardon of girlhood, that you think so hardly of it as
to wish to deprive it of so much healthful pleasure.
To be a lady isn't to be a doll or a fashion sheet. It
is to be a pure-souled, warm-hearted, broad-minded,
soiind-bodicd woman. The foundation of this last
and very important re(|uisite is laid in childhood.
That my daughter may have it in the fullest degree
is my great desire. To see the roses fade from her
cheek, the sparkle from her eye, and the elasticity
from her step, would make me sad beyond measure.
Anyone who tries to teach a girl that slie must be
demure and quiet, sitting in the corner, with spotless
apron and folded hands, while fashionable ladies call,
tries to do her an injury, 1 think.

"' Yet I believe my little girl does more housework
than most little girls. I believe in "all-round"
education for both boys and girls. I want my daugh-
ter to not only know how to bake and sweep, and
dust and sow, but I want her to know liowto harness
a horse, or drive a nail, as well as a boy. And I
should want my boy to know how to make his own
bed, and hang up his own chjthes, the same as if he
were a girl. T'hey will both W the better for it. Let
the little brother help the sister to wash her dislies,
and she in turn help him cai-ry in his wood. They
will make kinder wives anti husbands if they know
something of the ditKculties of the other sex.

QUEER (eUESTIOXS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

" ' I don't believe in nuikino- any ditJ'erence in sex
while children are small. It creates a barrier between
them which hardens the heart of the boy and makes
silly the girl. Let her play ball with him ; and let
him build doll-houses with her. The tender memories
of those sweet, pure hours of play spent with her
will save him from many a wrong in later years ; and
her hours of play in Ijoyish sports will develop in
her courage enough not to scream at a mouse or fly
in fright from a toad.' "

" The gentleman bowed gravely and passed on
without I'eplying. I half wished he had been able to
endure a little longer, for I wanted to tell him that
far more girls were ruined by being constantly talked
to about the boys, and teased concerning tlieir sweet-
hearts : by having their minds tilled fi'om babyhood
with the one thought that they w-^^c made to be
petted, and loved, and kissed, and admired by the
boys, than there were ruined by having their beings
filled with free, fresh air from heaven, and their
systems made anew with ox^'gen while engaged in
out-door, or what are connnonly called boys' sports ! "

The ladies were still kindly listening, so 1 con-
tinued :

" There is just one more point of which I must
speak ; for although the evil is not quite so great or
common as it used to be, it is still a great one. It is
that of early marriage. Girls must be taught as soon
as they enter their teens the evils of early marrying.

" No girl should dream of marrying under twenty-
three. When I think of the scores of young girls,

A HEALTHY CHILD.

mere cliiklren, who are married, and have laid upon
them all the responsibilities of a home, all the duties
of a wife and mother, it makes mv heart ache. If
only people would pause in their thoughtlessness, and
see that young girls are broken down in health, and
all the joyousness rudely torn from their lives by

KEEDINC; THl': CHK'KKNS.

marrying so young, Ikjw much better it would be.
Very often women, who, tit thirty, should be young
and bright and robust, are faded, sickly women,
unable to get any sweetness out of life.

" Physcians tell us that no girl reaches perfect
physical development under twenty-five years of age.
How then can ' children ' all the way from sixteen to

^1!

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• 1 1
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QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

twenty marry and liope to be well ? Many of them
give to the world a number of sickly, puny children
who either die while babies, or grow up to swell the
number of sufl'ei'ing beings who have barely vitality
enough to sustain life, who haven't physical strength
enough to resist temptation, to be strong morally, and
lience the throng of criminals is added to more and
more. We cannot separate the physical and the moral,
and as we cannot, I believe it is a sin for a young girl to
marry. Let her have somewhere near the first twenty-
five years of her life in which to become strong in botly
and mind, and refined and noble in spirit, so that when
she does become a wife, a mother, she may be able to
fill that sacred place as God would have her fill it."

I paused. There were tenvs in Mrs. Devon's ej-es.
She extended her hand, and pressed mine in hers
without saying a word.

CHAPTER VIII.

A VISITOR.

A NOTHER year had rolled by— a year full of
-^^- childish joys and disappointments and new
ambitions for Gladys. She liad learned fast at school,
and in every way her mind has opened and grown,
but she still seemed only my baby.

As that first j^ear of school was about to close, an
unexpected letter came from an old and dear friend of
m}^ girlhood, statino^ that she was about to leave for
Enoland on urgent business. She disliked taking her
little girl with her, and asked if I would undertake
the care of tlie child while she was o-one.

The child was nine — just two years older than
Glad3^s, and for a moment I thought, " No, I cannot
take her. I do not know how she has been trained,
or what she may be like." But my second thought was
that it might do my little daughter good to have
another child in the house with her for a month or so.
And whatever my feelings in the matter might have
been, I should have felt it my duty to take hei', any-
way. It was, therefore, decided that Esther Lewis
should come to us for the summer vacation.

Gladys looked forward to her arrival witli great
pleasure. To have a " really girl " in the house with
her every day seemed the climax of enjoyment.

^•■-

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

Ill '

i "I

Not lono; afterward our little friend arrived. She
was tall for her ai^e, rather slight, very pretty, and
very nervous. Gladys looked at her for a moment,
then seemed to step involuntarily nearer me. '^I'he
flashinf^ black eyes, and the raven curls seemed in
some way to repel her. I took their hands and joined
them in mine.

" Esther, Gladys," I said, "you are to be the best of
friends. You are to be sisters for the summer."

They looked at each other for a moment ; then, with
a nervous impulsive movement, Esther leaned forward
and gave Gladys a rousing kiss on the lips, saying :

" I like you. We shall be friends."

Gladys smiled and looked at me half (juestioningly.
Then she put her little hands up to Esthers face, as
she did so often with me, and said :

" Won't you be cross with me at all / There is a
a girl in our school with black, black eyes, ancl she is
Just awful cross."

Esther gave a short, nervous laugh, and drew back
from Gladys' touch.

" I'm not horrid, even if J am black," she returned.

" I shall love you then," CJladys replied with a
brio-ht smile.

Just before supper Gladys came out to the kitchen
where 1 was. She sat down and clasped her hands
around her knees, as was her wont when troubled
about anything.

" Mannna," she said, " what are you going to give
Esther to drink ^ "

I smiled. " Why dear ? "

•

A VISITOR.

The troubled expression deepened on Gladys' face.
" Because she drinks tea ; she told me so."

Gladys had never yet seen tea or coH'ee on our
table. All our friends who were intimate enough to
dine with us held the same opinion that we did with
regard to those stimulants. But here, to Gladys, was
a knotty problem. Esther was her guest, the
daughter of her mother's old and dear friend — and
Esther liked tea, and coffee, too, and she liked them
strong, and she liked them eveiy meal.

" What do you think we ought to do about it, my
dear ? "

She shook her head slowly. " Mamma, I do not know
what to do. You cannot think how she loves tea. I
never knew anyone could care for it so much."

" It didn't take my daughter long to discover that,
did it ? " I answered, laughing.

" Oh, I didn't ask her, mannna. But there was a
little paper on my dressing-table about tea and coffee,
and when I was showing her my room she picked it
up and read a few lines. Her eyes snapped, and she
said impatiently :

" ' Why do people write such silly things :* I couldn't
live without tea, and I don't believe anybody could.
Why, if I didn't have tea I couldn't work, I couldn't
study ; I would get so nervous and cross mamma
couldn't live with me. She lets me have it between
meals for medicine. Do burn that horrid old pa])er
up, Gladys.'

" And do you believe it, mamma, she threw it under
the bed, saying :

Ill l1

QUEER QUESTIOXS QUAINTLY AXSWEHED.

« < riM

That is the phice you bclonfj ? ' "

Notliwitli.staiiding my daun-liter's shocked and
troubled expression I laughed outrit^ht.

"Oh, nianinia," she said reproachfully, "doesn't it
seem awful to you ? What shall we do ? "

" Shall we make her some tea ? "

Gladys drew })ack startled. " Would we dare do
that { "

" Why not / "

" J\Iannna," she said almost desperately, " are you
lauj^hing at me : or don't you think Esther meant all
she said :' She meant it, every word, and I am almost
afiaid not to give her tea, for her eyes flashed so dread-
fully. But— mannna — we — r((n not."

The words came slowly, sadly, and with determina-
tion, although there were tears in her eyes.

" Shall we ask papa about it T' I suggested.

"There is no need of asking papa about it if what
you have taught me is true," she answered calmly.
" There is poison in tea and cotl'ee : they make people
nervous and cross : and they give people a longing for
stronger stimulants. You have always taught nie
that it was wrong to use them, Couid we then put on
our table for anyone to use what we know injures, and
what we believe is wrong to take ? "

" Of course we could not, sweetheart. I just
wanted to hear what 3'ou thought of it. I feel very
sorry for poor little Esther. I presume she has drank
it from babyhood, and her system has become so
saturated with the dreadful poison that it will be

1 1

A VISITOU.

very luiril, indeed, for lier to ^iv«^ it up. But people
lia\'e given np tlieir toliucco and their wliiskey,
and cannot a little girl give up her tea ;* '

" Ye.s, she can, nianinia; but I am al'raid she will be
dreadfully cross. It scares me when she Hashes her
great black eyes at me."

I kissed the sweet little worried face.

" We shall do what we can, my dear. Go back to
Esther now, and nuunma will manage it somehow."

The evening was very warm, and we had lemonade
for supper. I noticed Esthei" looked anxiously to
the head of the table several times, but no excuse was
offered for not having her dearly loved drink. We
all tried in every way to entertain her and make her
feel at home, but the whole evening she seemed rest-
less and excited. Glade's always went to bed at eight
o'clock, and I asked her if she would like to retire
then, too.

" Go to bed, now ! " and she looked at me half
surprised, half indignant. " Why, I never go to bed
till ten or eleven." She paused a moment, then con-
tinued : " But I would just as leave go to bed as stay
up, if you aren't going to have any eofi'ee and cake or
anything."

" We never have cofl'ee and cake before going to
bed," I replied quietly ; " but if you are hungry you
may have a lunch."

She walked to the window, tapped her fingers on
the glass for a few minutes, then turned her flashing
eyes ([uickly upon me.

' 11

Ql'EEIl (QUESTIONS QUAIXTLV ANSWERED.

" Would lUHinmu be on the vessel yet ;*"

"Esther, mv dear," I said, "you must not think of
<^ettini;' lonesome yet. Your mamma sails in the
morning, and it will be two or three months bel'ore
she returns.''

I placed some graham wafers and lemonade on the
table, sayinn-:

"We shall have a little lunch, dear; I am afraid you
didn't enjoy your supper."

She did not reply, l)ut partook of the refreshments
ottered. When I kissed her ^ood-night there was such
a hungry, lon^^ing look in her eyes that my heart
ached for her. Poor, indul<j:;ed, abused child ! How
little her fond parents dreamed that their only darling
was a tea and coffee fiend — a drunkard in a sense, and
completely under the control of her drink.

With a heavy heart and a troubled mind I returned
to the libiary, and takino- a slieet of paper I wrote
wliat my heart seemed compelling me to say :

" Fathers, mothers," I said, " I come to you with a
plea for our boys and girls. Why have we forgotten
our boys and girls so long ? Why have we sinned so
against them :* Why liave we trusted to temperance
societies and Bands of Hope to keep down the enemy
which is being reinforced from the home ;* All over
this country we are taking our children to hear
temperance talks — talks against the use of alcohol ;
yet how unconscious many of us seem to be that
there is anything else which might intoxicate our
children. To me it seems that we are only plucking
off the blossoms of a deadly plant, hoping thus to

A VISITOR.

destroy its power, yet leaving the phint firmly rooted
in the soil.

" Can any of us doubt that the si)} of intemperance
lies not alone in the use of alrohol, but in the satisfy-
ing of a desire for artificial stimulation ;*

" How little does the careless mother think, as she
sets down beside her boy that cup of tea or coffee
that it is she who is giving him his first lessons in
intemperance, that she is feeding his system on a
poison, and creating an mdiealthy appetite for stimu-
lants which may later on seek satisfaction in the cigar
or the tippler's glass — perhaps it will reach that awful
extreme which we call intoxication. But, as Dr.
Kellogg has said, ' What is intoxication but a condi-
tion of poisoning — a condition in which the sensibili-
ties are paralyzed, and the mind in a greater or less
degree delirious :* It makes no difference what has
caused this condition, whether it be tea, coffee, tobacco,
opium, or alcohol, for each one of these cdii and dors
intoxicate, and one who uses them is intoxicated just
i)i projtorfloii to the dose.'

" Shall we then reprove our children for fretfulness
and nervousness, when they have been born with
that poison in their system which makes them so ;
and when we feed it to them, too, with a spoon till
they are able to hold the subtle cup in their own
hand ? "

I laid down my pen and listened. I fancied I
could hear a slir>;ht noise in the room above me where
Esther slept. I went upstairs and gently opened her
door. She was tossing her head about on the pillow,
and muttering in a feverish half audible manner. I

:J I

I ,

QUKKH (.H'KSTFON'S QUAIXTf-V AN'S\VKl{i:i).

^t'litly stroUcfl lici' rorchcud ; it scomed to Hootlic Ikt
and soon hIic slrj)t (Hiictly.

When I went down uii'ain 1 l'<)un<l niv liuslmnd
rcadini;' what 1 had jnsl written.

" My dear," liu said, " you Tcid inort; strongly aliout
this matter th.'in 1 thon<;'ht yon did."

"I feel more Htronjilv al)ont it than I thou'dit I did
myHeli'," I replied. " When one h.is hron<;'ht hel'ore
her sucli a startHnu" example as we have hiul to-dav,
of a ehild whose nersous system has been all hut
destroyed 1)V what are usually termed harmless
driidvs, yes, li'iii i)i'r<( uci' driid<s, it is enou<;li lo arouse
all tile antaj^onism in one's nature, 'I'hat child is as
truly a druidsard as old I>ill .lones. Slu; eaiuiot live
without h(;r tea : h(^ cannot li\t' without his whisk(y'.
I)()th are stimulants, hotli ai-e poisons, and hoth are
injurin;^ them morally and physically. l>ill .lones fjot
his love for stimulants at his mothei'"s table. She
was the greatest tea-fiend I ever knew."

I paused, and rested my head on the table. My
husband smiled half sadly.

" How many ])eople do you think will believe as
you do i "

"I do not know: l)ut there will be some, thank
God ! There was a time when people thought they
could hardly entertain without wines or li(juors, but
now such a thin<; is frowned upon. And some sweet
day, when people shall have become wiser and better
than they are now, they will not otter their t;'uests tea
and coffee."

" I hope you may live to see that time," he said.

" I won't do that," I replied, " but someone will !"

I )

ciiATTKi: rx.

A CONFKSSIOX.

F*oiir niontlis spud away. To-mornnv Ksther's
motluT was coiiiiiij'' to take her away witli her.

'I'lic t\vili;j,ht was (leepciiinn-, l)ut \v»j did not li^^lit
tlu' lamp, 'i'lie j^nrl.s sat on the lloor Ijol'oi'e the tire-
place, and I lay on the couch on the opposite side of
the room. They seemed to have forgotten all about
my presence as they talked on in low contidfutial
tones. Glady's liead rested on l^^sthcr's shoulder, and
their hands were clasped. 'I'he two had learned to
lov(! each other as I had never dreamed they could.

"1 am homesick to see mamma," Esther was saying,
"yet I feel so l)adly at leaving here. It seems to me
tiiat 1 am not the same girl at all who came here four
months aii'o."

"Vou don't love tea (piite so well, for instance,"
(iladys said, with a teasing laugh. From when; 1 lay
J could see the girls' faces plainly in the fire-light. A
smile flitted over Esther's face as she replied :

"No, not quitr so well. Do you know, Gladys, it

is hard for me to realize that I ever did love tea so

welW Yet I did. The fourth nioht I was here I never

closed my eyes. I could not sleep. I felt as if I were

dying of thirst. I slipped ([uietly down stairs and

into the pantry. I looked into (ivery box and can
6 83

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84.

(^lEEli (QUESTIONS QUAIMI.V AN.-iWEKED,

I" I

there. If only I could have found some tea I should
have eaten the dry leaves ; I think it would have
satisfied nie. But I couldn't find one shrivelled little
leaf. I drank some vinegar, but that only made my
stomach hurt. I determined that as soon as I was
dressed in the morning I would go to the hotel for a
cup of tea. Then I would buy some, and carry it in
my pocket to eat. But you never left my side a
moment that morning— I could not get away from
yoQ. I was so rude and unkind with you that whole
day that I wonder your mother did not send me oft'
somewhere. But instead, she was so good, so kind
with me that now I could cry when I think of it.
She gave me everything to eat and drink that was
nourishing and tempting ; everything in the world one
could need or wish; everything but the only thing I
wanted — tea !

" Some days I felt as if I were a criminal or
drunkard whom she was trying to reform, and it
made me angry. Then, again, it seemed as if she
were my good angel, indeed, and I was sorry for my
meanness. But for the first three weeks I was here,
Gladys, every hour was torture. Then that great,
awful craving began to disappear. I would some-
times iorget about it for several hours at a time. I
began to drink my cocoa or chocolate, milk or lemon-
ade without caring quite so nuicli. Then one day I
asked for a cup of hot water, the same as the others
drank. You remember the day, don't you? I can
see your face yet as I asked for it. That look would
have been reward enough, even though the water had

V <il

*' VI

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^ *

LUi

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V'P

■ff-

.. .j.<*..-ar-«T-

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

, ; !

choke'l me. But it did not choke me, and I don't
believe one of you drinks a cup of liot water with
more relish now than 1 do.

"But that is not all. I cannot tell you how differ-
ently I feel. I was so nervous that I could not en-
dure anythino;. I would cry over the slightest an-
noyance. Then I would launh till the teai's streamed
down my clieeks, over little thin^js which would only
make others smile. My head ached, and my back
ached nearly all the time, and my stomach never
stopped hurtin<^. But my one (]^reat cure for every
ill fe«ding was tea ! tea ! "

She paused for a moment, and t;"azed into the tire.
Then she said, in a lower tone; "I am so giad, so
iilad, that mother brought me here."

Gladys made no reply, but she brushed a tear from
her eye and clasped Esther's hand more closely.

"1 don't know how it is," Esther continued, "that
mother <ind father never saw, never realized that I
was being slowly poisoned. T luive been wondering
lately' how long I could have lived and continued
drinking as I did. I was a drunkard — yes, a perfect
drunkard !

" I used to hear nty aunts and cousins sometimes
tell mamma what a cross, irritable, hateful child I
was; but I am not hateful and cross now, am I?"
she said with a smile.

" No, indeed ! You are the dearest girl I know,"
Gladys answered enthusiastically.

" But you did not think tliat at first."

" No ; I was half afraid of you at first, for every-
thing we said seemed to hurt or annoy you."

M. C0N*FESS!O!C.

" i was pretty nearly that 1 »ad at home, not quite,
of course, for I had my tea : but nianinia always
excused n»e to every one, and said I was not well.
Poor, dear mamma ! I could not hegin to tell you all
she has put up with from me. She tried to satisfy
my every wish, but I «^ot worse and worse. She will
be so glad to find me well, and, for me, sweet-
tempered."

8he smiled, but in an instant the smile faded and a
sort of sadness crept over her face.

" But,"' slie continued, " I don't know how I shall
manage it when I get home again, for papa is as fond
of tea and coffee as I was. If they continue to use it
on the table I wonder if — I'll — be able — to hold out."

She leaned her head over on her hand and gazed
into the tire.

Poor little thing 1 How many, many helpless ones
in this world are sutiei-ing from the faults of others !
How little do parents pause to think that they are
controlling for good or evil, for sickness or health, for
happiness or misery the lives of their little ones !

About a month after Esther had gone home, (iladys
received a long letter from her, in which she said :

" Wo have had quite a revolution here. The
struggle was bitter while it lasted, but it did not last
long. I cannot tell you how thankful I am for the
victor}'.

" Before we left you, your dear mother told mamma
what a trial I had undergone, so she was all prepared,
but papa was not. When mannna p(jured out my
cup of hot water, papa began to laugh ; he thought it
was a joke.

! «.l

i ■

J|y:;<i

88 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

" ' Don't be 80 cruel with the child right on her
home-corning,' he said. ' Well, I will share up with
you, if mamma has got so saving while she was
away '

" Tlien he set that awful cup of tea right down by
my plate. I looked at it, and suddenly there came
over me such an almost uncontrollable desire for that
black, bitter stuff that I seized the cup in my hand.
I believe that if I had gotten one taste o? it 1 should
have had a greater struggle than before to give it up.
But manmia sprang towards me and grasped for the
cup as it had nearly reached my lips. Tlie tea was
spilled and the cup fell in fragments to the floor.

" I then realized what I had done, or almost done,
and I threw my arms around mamma's neck and
began to cry. Papa thought I was angry, as of old,
for having had one of my wishes crossed. I don't
know just what he thought about mamma ; but he
looked at her so strangely that I believe he thought
she was losing her mind. His voice trembled and he
seemed half frightened as he spoke to her.

" ' My dear,' he said, * do not cross the child right at
her home-coming. I never saw ^'^ou treat her so be-
fore. Wliat is the matter ^ "

"Mannna laughed through her tears, and so did I.
I could not help it.

" ' It is all riglit, papa,' I sai<l. ' I didn't want to
drink the tea, and mamma knew it. I am so glad
she didn't let me have it ; but I am sorry, so sorry,
tliat your lovely cup is broken.'

" It was papa's turn to laugh now. ' I hope you
won't ask me to think of cups whik^ I am witnessing

A CONFESSION.

,1.

a hand-to-hand fight between my wife and only
child; "

" Mamma put her hand on his shoulder and said a
few words to him that I didn't hear, but papa asked
no more (juestions. I don't know how it is, but
mamma can always manage papa so easily.

" Then we sat down and finished our supper. Papa
drank his tea, but I drank hot water; so did mamma.

" That night before I went to bed I told manuna
myself what a dreadful struggle I had had, although
I knew she had heard it before. Poor mamma ! she
could not keep from cr^nng. I felt so badly for I
knew she blamed herself for my ever having acquired
the habit.

" The next morning I was sitting on the sofa wiien
papa entered the breakfast-room. He sat down beside
me, and put his arm tightly around me, and looked
into my eyes as if he would like to read my very
soul. Then he said, sadly, but oh, how lovingly :

" ' Little daughter, you and I are going to stop
drinking together.'

" I knew then that mamma had told him all about
it, and that he, too, had blamed himself for my love
for that drink, and for the grea' u- part of my ill-
health.

" I have waited a whole month before telling you
this that I might see if we were likely to falter in
our purpose. But tea and coft'ee have never been
mentioned by us, nor kept in the house. Mamma
burnt up what we had on hand when papa and I took
what she calls our ' Twentieth Century Temperance
Pledge.' I don't think we shall ever break it."

CHAPTER X.

(•IIILDJIEX WHO VISIT.

ONE (lay, during her eighth year, Gladys came
home from school with (me of her little com-
panions, who beoo-ed me t(j allow Gladys to go home
and stay all night with her.

•' No, my little friend, I cannot let her go to stay
all night with 3^011." I answered with a smile, yet so
tirml}'' that she knew it was useless to persist.

Gladys looked a little disappointed, and not know-
ing my reason for refusing, said :

" Well, mamma, mayn't I have her stay all night
with me, then ^ 1 know her mother will let her."

I looked into the two earnest little faces, but
gravely shook my head.

"No, children, I cannot consent to even that. Not
for ([uite a mimber of ^^ears yet shall I allow Gladys
to stay all night with, or have stay with her any
little friend."

That evening Gladv's climbed up in the rocker
beside me, and said :

" Why wouldn't you let me go home with Ada,

mamma '! She is just the nicest little girl : everybo(-ly

likes her, and she often has little girls stay all night

with her."

" I know it, my dear, and that is one great reason

CHILDREN WHO VISIT.

\ •*

why I could not allow my little girl to stay all nitjfht
with her. Very often children learn thin<^s which
they would never have thou<4ht of, or dreamed of
doing, if they had not gone visiting some other girl
whose mind had already been tainted by wrong
thoughts.

"You have already found out, Gladys, that all little
girls are not perfectly pure in thought and w^ord.
And this night visiting gives a girl the best chance
possible for telling all the wa'ong she knows. Many
a child has been told things, by those a little older
than herself, which have been the means of almost
ruining her life."

" But, mannna, Ada wouldn't tell me anything
nauii'htv. She is iust as nice, as nice !"

" I hope she w^ouldn't, my dear ; yet mamma must
keep on the safe side. When you are grown up there
will be plenty of time to visit your friends. Ada
seems like a very good little girl, yet she has so many
visitors whom I know nothing about that I cannot
be sure she would teach my little girl no wrong.

" All little girls are not naughty, of course. But
the difficulty is to tell who are all they ought to be,
and who are not. I have seen young girls who
seemed very quiet and modest, yet, wdien the}' would
get alone Avith other children, they would tell them
naughty stories, and many other things that were
very A\rong.

"I knew" a little girl once who visited, for a few
days, a little friend of hers. While there she told her
little friend to do something which w^as very, very

:F'

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

wickt'd. SoMietinie after sl>o went home the cliild
whom slie visited be<(nn to ^et pale and thin. She
could not eat her meals, and her llesh seemed dry and
hot, as it' she had a fever all the time. She became
so for(^etful that they were ohli^vd to take her out of
school. They hoped that the rest would do her good,
but she did not get stronger. All she seemed to wish
was to wander off alone, and be by lierself all the
time. She became thinner and weaker ; her finger-
nails became colorless, and her eyes sunken and dull.
Her parents became very alarmed about her condi-
tion. As the home doctors did not seem to be help-
ing her they took her away to a specialist. He soon
told them what was the matter, and they were very
much shocked to thul their little daughter had ever
done anything so naughty.

" I have told you a number of times, illadys, to be
very careful never to touch, in any way, the private
parts of your body, only, of course, as you are obliged
to do so. I have always been very careful, too, that
they should be bathed every night before you retire.
Keeping yourself perfectly clean has beconie so much
a habit with you that you never think of doing other-
wise, and you would be very surprised if I were to
tell you that some children do not even have a bath
once a week, and those parts are never washed except
when they do have a bath, if it be only once in two
or three weeks. Hence they often become chafed and
feverish-like, and this makes the child feel like rubbing
them. But those organs are ver}^ delicate, and, if
handled at all more than necessary they become

)

CHILDREN WHO VISIT.

irritated and diseased. And the oftenor they are
touclied the more diseased they become, till at last the
whole body is afi'ected,

"The little girl I was speaking of had been told by
lier friend that handling those parts would make her
feel better. And as she had never l)een told that she
must never touch them, but keep hei-self ])erfectly
clean by bathing them every night, she did as the girl
told her, till at last she became so sick that she almost
died."

" Oh, mamma ! what did the doctor do '. 13 id he
cure the poor little girl ? " said Gla<lys with tears in
her eyes.

"Yes, my dear, the little girl was cured after a time ;
but it was almost a year before she was perfectly
well. Those delicate oru'ans had become so weak
and diseased that it seemed as if she could not keep
her hands away from them, even though she would
try very hard, for she knew, now, that she would die
or become insane if she did not (juit it. They had her
take a bath every morning, and bathe the private
parts again at night. They would not let her be alone
for scarcely a minute during the da}^ ; and her mannna
slept with her, and held her hands till she went to
sleep at night. The moment she awoke in the morn-
ing she was obliged to get up and have her bath.

" They had her take a great deal of exercise in the
open air, and were very careful about what she ate.
You have never eaten all kinds of pickles, spices and
salads, and drank tea and coffee, but she had. These
the doctor said she must stop using entirely, or she

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QUEER QUESTIONS QUATN'TLY AXSWEUED.

could not got well, for they kept her system in n
feverish condition, which made her disease much
worse. She ate plenty of fruit, drank (juantities of
milk, ate no meat whatever, but lived lar<^ely on
brown bread, oatmeal, oraham craUers, wheat meal,
peas, beans, and other vegetables, tot^ether with nuts
which supplied the place of meat."

" And you think, mamma," said Gladys very gravely,
" that all the little girl suffered nn'ght not have been
at all, if only that other girl had not stayed all night
with her ^ "

" Yes, my dear, I do, for it is usually at night, when
the light is out that naughty little girls tell such
things. Of course, it is not always so, but most people
are half-ashamed to talk of impure things with God's
great, pure sunlight around them. When all is dark
they feel less afraid."

Gladys sat very thoughtful for a little while, then
said :

" But, mamma, if every little girl knew that she
must keep herself very clean, and never touch herself
except when she had to ; and had been told what
a dreadful sickness comes from not doing so, then
it wouldn't hurt for little girls to visit each other,
would it ? For they would all know how wrong it was,
and wouldn't think of doing so."

" Yes, my little one is right," I replied, " and I wish
every mother would guard her little daughter by
telling her these facts. But it will be a long, long
time before every little girl is thus protected : and in
the meantime I must keep my birdie safe at home
under my wing."

■

(MIAiTEK XI.

FU(»M (JlllMIOOl) TO WOMANHOOD.

;

I WAS Ivin;; on tlio louiiiiO (Jiie ovenini!: whon OladvH
came in from scliool. Slie was always (jiiick to
notice it' I seenied a little less well than usual, and
now she put her face l()vin;4'Iy down beside nunc,
8ayin<( :

" vVliat is the matter, nianinia ; arc you sick ? "

I smiled. " No, not sick, exactly : but I feel like
restinij."

Then for a moment I looked thou<ditfullv into the
sweet young face. She seemed only my baby still.
Could I say to her what seemed on my heart to say ?
Could I burden her youn^,^ life with any new and, to
a degree, unpleasant knowledge ^ Yet, ought 1 not to ?
And wisdom answered " yes."

" Gladys," I said, '• for ten happy years you and I
have been together day by day, I have tried to lead you
on gently and naturally from one bit of knowledge
to another. I have tried to make clear to you some
of the mysteries of this great good world which God
has made. Bat there are hidden things yet to be
revealed to you."

She clasped my hand a little more tightly, but said

nothing. After a moment I continued :

" Every man and woman should be learning from

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(il'KEM (.H'ESTIONS (^'AINTLY ANSWERED.

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chiMhoofl the laws wliich ^(overn their physical being,
so that they may know how to keep themselves well
an<l strong, and free from disease. But there is a
certain part of a woman's physical nature which she
not only oinj/it /o, hut )i)iisf undei'stand, or she will
surt'er — sutU'r as only women can; sull'i-r beyond the
power of words to express : sutt'cr not only for one day,
i)V (tnc week, or one month, hut often for a whole life-
time. I am going to tell you something about that
part of her nature."

The little lingers trembled in mine, and she gave a
sad little sigh.

" I half drt'ad to hear it, mannna," she said.
"Sweetheai't," F replied, '" mamma half dreads
telling you, too, but don't you believe she loves you
too well to tell you anything which would give you a
moment's wony if it were not necessary to tell you:'"
"I know she does," si'e answered, smiling.
" Ye.s, she does, indeed. You know, (iladys, that
when a child is boi'ii into tiie world, it has all the
organs of the body pretty much the sanie as a grown
pei'.son, only they are small and weak. They have
the ]H)wer to act according to their strength, the
same as if they were fully grown. The lungs purify
the blood with oxygen; the heart pumps the blood to
all parts of the body : the stomach churns the food :
the bowels absorb what is needed to build up the
blood, and then carry oft' the rest : the liver and kid-
neys do their work in helping carry oil' the waste
materials of the bod}', and so on. But there are
certain other parts which do not do the work of a

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i'i

QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

fully ^rown orijjan. All they do is simply grow for a
number of years. They are the organs which give
birth to new lives.

"Usually when a girl is somewhere between twelve
and fourteen, those organs become sufficiently de-
veloped to do each month a certain work which
nature has given them to do. But some girls are
not so old as twelve. I have known some who
were eleven, and a few who were only ten. Then,
again, quite a nundjer are between sixteen sind eigh-
teen before those organs mature. But after she has
passed eleven years, no mother can tell what day her
little daughter may step from childhood into woman-
hood ; hence every girl who has reached that age
should be told of that change which must soon take
place in her life ; for her whole life's happiness may
depend upon her having or not having that know-
ledge. Yet, nearly all mothers dread telling their
little daughters about it. Some dread it so much
that they never tell them, but allow them to find it
out the best way they can. I have known mothers,
too, who would day after day watch their loved ones
with anxiety, and would constantly reproach them-
selves that they could not gain courage to speak to
them of that change which they knew must soon
come into their little one's life."

Gladys' lip trembled, and the color left her cheeks.

"Oh! manniia," she said, "is it so very, very dread-
fuW"

"Forgive me, my dear," I replied quickl3% "I did
not mean to frighten you in that way. No, Gladys,

\ 1

FROM GIRLHOOD TO WOMANHOOD.

it is not dreadful at all, if only you will think of it in
the right way. But it is so often told a child in sucli
an abrupt way, or is left with a ]\idden, mysterious
meaning somewhere in it that the child is horrified.
And the mother vvlio cannot bear to see her litth one
hurt refrains from telling her,

" But it need not frighten any girl. It is simply
this. Nature has so arranged that when those organs
have once developed, they shall each month pour out,
through the passages which leads to them, a small
(juantity of blood. If a w^oman is well, the flow of
blood comes and goes without any pain or any dis-
comfort. The only difference it makes is that she is a
little weaker, and hence needs more rest at that time."

Gladys' face was very serious, and her eyelids
drooped.

" Does it make you feel badly, darling ? "

For a few moments she did not answer. Then she
calmly raised her eyes to mine.

"No, mamma, I do not feel badly," she replied
quietly. " But it seems to me that if I should pause
to think of all the times which it must happen
throughout all those years to come, I could not bear
it. I think perhaps it is that which makes some
little girls feel so badly. But I am not going to think
of all those times at once. I shall just take them one
by one as they come. If mamma has borne it all
these years and been so sweet and good, surely her
little daughter can."

" There is another reason, Gladys, why you should
bear it patiently, other than that mamma has done
so."

It II

100 QUEEK QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

M i

The lovelicHt sinilo swept over her face. " I know
it, mamma. Tlio good Father lias made me so, and I
sliould be glad. He would not have done so imle.ss it
had been wisest and best. Everything He has
created is perfect, and I would not dare feel rebel-
lious, even though I might fancy this was going to be
a sort of burden to my life."

Was she too old for her years ? Were there many
children who would reason thus ? But the next
moment she answered my (juestioning by saying :

" Mamma, if you had not taught me all these years as
you have : if you had not made clear to me something
of the mysteries of God's great plan of creation ; if I
had known nothing about my physical nature, and
some rude girl had told me this, I know it would
have seemed awful to me. I don't wonder, mamma,
that young girls often cry, and declare they don't
want to live when they learn from the street what
you have told me so lovingly. I believe it would
have broken my heart."

The young head sank down beside mine, and I felt
a tear drop on my cheek.

" Mamma," she said, after a bit, " what if a little
girl had never learned from her mannna or from any-
body else what you have told me, and some day that
How should begin, what would she do ^ Wouldn't it
frighten her { "

The child had touched that question of such vital
importance. And there flashed through my mind a
thought of the many lives which had been almost
wrecked ; the many, many girls who, for year after

-i

FKOM <;IU1.II(H)D TO WOMAXllOOl).

101

year had sufterod every afjjony, because someone had
not told thcin, and in their first fear at the unex-
pectetl (low had done something rash. My voice
treinl)le<l as I answered her.

" It seems dreadful to you, Gladys, to think that
one would leave a ehild wholly unprepared for that
event, which must come to every <^irl. But you are
thinkin*,^ only of the shock it would «,nve her, of her
tenor at its appearance. If that were all, my
dauijhter, we mitjlit forgive the injury, for it would
be slight. But when we consider the important fact
that a ffirl's whole future health or ill-health is
largely depending on the care she takes of herself at
that time, how different a matter it becomes.

'I have known many girls who, at the first appear-
ance of the How, have been almost terrified. And
instead of fxoinir straiixht to their mother, a foolish
fear has possessed them lest she should discover it.
Driven on by this feeling, they have taken off their
stained clothing and washed it — sometimes in a
sti'eam of water, sometimes even in winter in freezing
water from the well, and then put on again those
wet, cold clothes. Oh, it makes me shudder when I
think of it ! That poor child has brought upon her-
self a train of sorrow from which it may take years
to be delivered.

"At the monthly period, when those important
organs are doing their work, tlie pores are all open,
and they will contract a cold alioost more easily than
we can imagine. Just to sit on the ground, or get

I I

( ■ 1

■ . I

102 QUEER QUESTION'S QUAINTI.Y ANSWEItErx

the feet damp, or to liavo tlio liands in cold water
may give one cold, and thus cause serious trouble.
But to think of appl^'ing directly to those part.s a
wet, cold garment! C)nly a miracle could .save her
from suti'ering. In some cases where such a rash
thing has been done the flow never returns, and if it
does not, the girl becomes sick. She grows paler and
weaker, and by and by dies, 'j'liose organs must do
their work, as God has planned they should, or she
cannot live.

"Then, again, the flow may return, and at the
proper time ; but, after the heavy cold which she has
taken, she will have pain. You know that if you
catch a cold in your head, or on your lungs, they are
sore and swollen, and inflamed, and hurt you. So it
is with those other organs; if the cold has been caught
there just so soon as the}' begin to pour out tlie blood
as they should, its passing through those swollen
blood vessels causes the most awful pain. Sometimes
it will be years before they will be entirely cured,
and the pain cease. Of course she will not have that
pain all the time, but only when those organs are
doing their work every fourth week."

The child's eyes were flashing. " Every fourth
week!" she exclaimed." "Oh! mamma, to think of
the poor little thing suftering awful pain every fourth
week just because she was not told what she couldn't
possibly find out for herself. How could a mother be
so cruel ? Does she hate her little girls :* "

" No, darling, not that," I said as I pressed her

FROM GIKLHOOD'to WOMANHOOD.

103

troinbliM(r little luiiid in mine. " Every mother luve.s
hei- littl.' ^rii-l, hut somehow or otlier slie dreads tell-
ino; her. I liave dreaded it my.self ; I scarcely know
why." ^

She ^ruve a lon^r, sad sicrh, then said :
" What a stran«re world it is, mannna : "
" It is strange, Gladys, strange that so many are
not wining to do their part to make the load lighter
for others. But if you and I each do our paH in
'our small corner,' 'tis all we can do; and all, too,
that the dear Father asks of any of His children."

■ ' ■

't 1

(IHAITKK XU.

A II AST V \V<HU>.

■I i

AKKW wtM'Us iiricrwaid I cimr in IV. >iii shopping;
to lind (il.*ul\s walkiiin' ixcitt'dh' iii) and down
the liJill. I li.'ul no soomi' closcil the door tlian slio
threw hcrst'ir into my .irnis and hurst into tears. I
tried to soothe and quiet her, hut it wh"! several
niinut«'s hel'ore she could iiJiin control of herself
sufliciently to talk to me.

" My dear child," I said at last with some alarm, "I
cannot enduic; to hear you ciy in this way. Do tell
me what is wi"on^\ I have never het'ore seen my
little ii'irl ("-ive wav so to her i*eelin«rs."

She stoi)ped weepini; so violently, and ihi-oueh her
sohs said: "And never bel'ore did 1 have anything;
hurt me so m ich. Oh! manniia, I wish you owned
every little ;;irl in the woi'ld."

I lau;;hed at the thou^dit ot' my lari;e family, and
(dadys, too, smiled through her tear.s.

" It would be a great, big houseful, I know, mamma,
but some people are so cruel with their little girls."

" What new wrong have you fouml out to-day ^ " I
asked.

" I found something dreadful," she answered (juickly.
And instead of tears the fire now Hashed in her eye.
" I went down the river for a walk. I had gone only

1(»4

« I

A HASTY WoltU

105

a short \\)i\- wlu'U, sittiii^x <"» tliut <n*('iit stone at the
IkmhI, 1 saw little Alice Wlieclor. lier shoes were
sittin;^ heside her; lier feet were in tlie water. Her
i'aee was hiirieil in lier hands, and slie was cryint^' and
inoaniniT as if her lieart would hreak. I bej'an
\vhistlin<; sol'tlv ho she would hear me coniin;;, but
she did not stir. Then 1 laid my hand on her
shoulder, and said ;^^ently :

" ' What is the matter, Alice ;* Won't you let me do
somethint^ for you ^ '

" She burst out cryin;^ harder than ever, ami said I
couldn't do anythin^^ for her— that she was f^oing to
die. I be<,'^^ed of her to leave the water and come up to
the house with iiie, for I was sure we could do some-
thing,' for her.

" Then she looked up at me, and, mamma, she looked
so frightened that it made me tremble.

" ' No, no, 1 cannot leave here ! ' she cried. ' I would
die for sure if I took my feet out of the water. But,
perhaps, if I stay here a lon*(, lony while I will t^et
better.'

'"How long have you been here/' I said, now
getting frightened myself ; for all of a sudden the
thought had come to me that maybe poor Alice had
menstruated, and that the unexpected discharge had
terrified her.

" * Alice,' I said, ' no matter what is wrong with you
it cannot make you better to sit with your feet in that
cold water. It will surely make you worse.'

" I could stand it no longer, for she did not offer to
move. So I pulled her feet out of the water, and

'■ V
I, -i

' !»

m ''

loo (^lEKU QI-KSTIoS'S (/r.MNTI.Y AN'SWF.HF.D.
hcj^jui rubl)iii;; tliciii with Iut apntn. Shr ,stnin;(^l»'(l

uikI ctIimI jil'n'Hii, l)ut I lir|(| luT ti;f|it.

(Jhuly

Hlie H(»

hbcl.

you arc wry vvm:

\'«JU

don't know wluit is wroiii;, or jiiiytliin;;' hIkmU it.
Notliin;,^ liUt' this ever Imjjpciicd to you, noi'to Iwuflly
aiiyoiio «'Iho in tlif world.'

"' How do you know ^ ' I uskt'(|, still tryin^^ to h<»l<l
on to the reltfUious foot.

I ki

,1)

told

ill

unswcr

'CJIUS*

hall' an^^rily, hall' sorrowl'ully.

'" She told you a story ; I kno.v she did, the nasty
tiling ! ' 1 crit'cl ; for 1 could not lu; still any lon^^or.

"Alice (juit stru<;^lin;^ : she droj)|)ed her hands in
lier lap, and looked into my face ho wistfully, .so
eagerly that I felt like cryinj^ myself.

" ' Do you suppo.se, no, it could not he — but — Gladys,
mit^ht it be, do you think that, perhaps, it wasn't
true :* ' she .said, tryin»r to be calm.

" ' I think it was not true — a word of it ! ' I n^plied.
' liut if you will tell me all about it, I can say for .sure.
I believe I know just what is the matter with you'

" She took a swift t;lance anjund, as if .she feared
even the waves might be listening. Then .she .said in
a hushed tone :

" ' To-day at noon I foun<l that my underclothes
were all .stained with blood. It frightened me, for I
had never .seen anything like it before. I couldn't
imagine whatever was the matter with me. Mannna
is away, .so I went to the kitchen to the girl, and told
her about it. She raised her hands and opened her
mouth as if she were horrified. * What is it ; what is
tlio matter with me :* ' I asked eagerly.

A HASTY WOHI).

107

'* ' You are iToinj' to <li«' ! ' nlie e.\claiiiR'<l.

" ' Die ! ' 1 j^aMpcd.

" ' V(;h, (lio ! ' she ivid'atcd, ' I have lirai'd of ;^drls
(^ottiii}^^ lik»' tliat l)»'t'ore, ))iit they always die.' TlifU
slio tuniiMl ami went on witli liei' ironing.

" 'Vol a little while 1 treinblcd so that 1 coidd not
HpcaU. Soon 1 he^^an to cry, and he^^^j^ed of her to
tidl nie overythin^^ she knew about thisdreadlul tiling
which had happene*! to nie, 1 crie<l and cried {'or ii- i
to do something to stop it, or tell nie, if she knew,
what to do. Sho was ironini^ my white dress wit! all
those trills on it, and I guess she got angry ai my
tormenting her so much. At last she turned around
and looked t. me, oh I ho black, and yelled : '

" ' Yes, soak 3'our feet in cold water. That will stop
it (piick enough — take this old dress along witli you,
too.'

" * 1 didn't say another word, but Hlipj)ed ([uietly out
of the house, and came down here where no one
would watch me. And oh ! I must keej) them there
for a long while yet. If I don't, this blood will keep
on flowing, and I shall soon die. I don't want to die,
Gladys, this world is so lovely.'

" She choked back a sob as she uttered the last sen-
tence, and turned resolutely to put her feet in the
water again.

" ' Jane ought to die herself ! ' 1 cried so angrily,
and grasped her feet so (piickly that I guess I frigiit-
ened her almost as badly as Jane did.

" ' Don't get angry,' I continued : ' but Alice, you
have no idea what you have done. What has hap-

'^Tr^ V ' S iwMrtwwii

■ PP.,
mt M-. I til '

}}

lOS (,)ur:r,i{ qt'estions <,»r.\iN"ri,Y a\s\vki!i:i).

pencil to you t()-(|;iy li;i |>[i('iis to cxci'y u'ii'l n\ liilf she
is still (luite voiiiiu'. M.iiimia (oM me all aKoiil it
just ;i week or so ai^o. lint you must nob stay here
jiMutlu'r niiiuitt'. Mannna says that niaiu' i-irls arc
made \i2Y\ sit'k Uy catcliinii' tlic slii;litest coM at such
a time. W)\\ must cohk; uj) to the liouse with me,
and I will do what I can i'oi- 3'ou."

" SJio came u|) to the house with me, hut, mannna,
she was sliakine- and tremhlin!"' and \\vr I'ace was as
white as death. 1 hatlied liei" i'eet in hot water, and
ejive Jier a cn|) of ^'in^'er tea. She was just ahout
persuaded to ^'o to )x'<l when that wicked e'irl came
hounding' in.

•' I n'Uess she was pi-etty badly scared hei'selt'. It
seems in her interest in that frilled dress slie ('or<:<>t
all ahout wliat she had said to Alice. Finally, she
remembered it, and began calling' all over the hoii.s(>
for lier. Then she ran down to the river and eaujiht
a siu'ht of her iroinu' u]) with me. JShe followed hei'
as soon as she couhl, and insisted on her eoine' l)ack
with her.

" ' She isn't able to <;'o liome,' I said. ' -hist see liow
white she is, and slie is trembling' so.'

" Tlie <;-irl j^ot <*ini;-ry at me then, and declared
she had to go. She wasn't going to leave her there
to be sick and have it the talk of the wdiole town.
Besides, she said that her mistress would make an
awful row if she came home to tind Alice sick in
somebody's else house. So Alice went with her."

The tears again welled up in Gladys' eyes.
" Mamma," she said, " won't you go over at unce and

A TIASTV W()|!l).

0!)

talk to that wickrd ^irl, au'l sec it' you vnw <!<> ;iny-
thiiif for poor Alice She lookt/d so l);ii|l\' wlidi slic
It'Tt tliJit I am afraid she will die."

I went. Tho ])ooi' cliild was in ImmI; hut tlu' iicfv-
OUH excitement, tlie fear, and the cold, had made hei-
very sick iiidee(h She had fainted tlirec times since
slie j^ot liomo, and was now almost too weak tos])e;ik.

The doctor was called, and for three months did all
he could for liei'. Some (hivs she was stioiii-er and
was able to i^o out : most of the time slie lav on tlie
couch. Slie (i^radually ^i;rew weaker, aiul when three
months of sutt'eiMni;' had passed, they laid the tire*]
little body away in the ^'raveyard, while the sweet
spirit went to the home where there is no cruelty.

We had just returned fj"om the funeral. I stood
l)y the open wdndow overlooking the <;"arden, now
laden with its perfume of ro.ses.

" Another youno- liiV' sacrificed to foolish fear and
false modesty," I said, thinking ahjud. " When, when
will mothers learn to value aright the noble woi'k
which God has (»;iven them to (h) ^ When will we
learn to ])lace before everxthinuf else the welfare of
those dear little beings to whom we have n-iven life .''
When will nirls cease to suffer because a mother has
not done her duty ^ "

Gladys stood near me although 1 had not noticed
lier as I spoke. She laid her little hand gently on
mine.

" Mamma, why don't you write a little story, and
tell mrls all those thinii's thev ou^ht to know ! If
there are some mothers who cannot tell their dau<jfh-

1i!

7 J

QUEER QUESTroXS QT^ATXTLV ANSWERED.

tors those thincr.s, you could do it. Girls could read
It for themselves, and, oh inamina, just think how
much sufferino- would be saved ' If only you had told
little Alice she micrlit be playino- here with me to-day.
She did so love to live, too."

For a few moments I did not answer. Then I
looked down into the sweet eyes of my little dauLditer
and replied :

" My Gladys, I believe I will try it."

)

CHAPTER XIII.

THE 150YS WHO SMOKE.

WE were sitting; by the window, Gladys and I,
waiting for papa to return. It was a dismal
evenin<^; a cold, misty rain was falling-, and dead
leaves were strewn ever^^where. Presently two boys
emerii'ed from the cellar of a vacant house neai'lv
opposite Both had cigarettes in their mouths. I
shuddered involuntarily, and Gladys stepped a little
nearer to me.

" ])oes it make you feel badly, mannna ? "

"Yes, very," I replied, w^ith emotion. "Gladys
dear, if those were my boys I believe it would break
my heart to see them act so. They play truant day
after day ; they hide in that cellar whenever they
get a chance ; and they smoke cigarettes constantly.
It is the cigarettes that are doing the evil. Oh, that
we might do something to save our boys 1 "

Gladys watched the boys till the}' turned a corner
and were lost from view. Then she turned to me
with such a wistful look in her eyes, saying :

" Can't something be done, mannna ? There are so
many good people in the world, that surely, if they
all did wdiat they could, they might save the little
boys from such bad habits."

Ill

t « it

112 (,)UEER QUESTION'S QUAINTLY ANSWEltED.

|i!l
'•(!

1:1:

:b''

" Soiiiethinf;^ can be done: soniethinf,^ v'.s being done,
my dear. Hut until all ('liristians are awakened to
the awful ])rniiciousnessol' this habit, our boys cannot
be saved. It is shock in;.,'' to sec liow li<,ditly many
really good people thiiik of this vicious lia})it. In

fact, th

lis vice lias so near

lyl

jeeii

tak

en in anionLf tne

virtues, that even a nunister will write a story and
ha\-e his hero a sii'oker. He will hold up this hero
as a model of virtue, an ideal for vouno; men : then
he will take him to Ids room, have him draw a chair
\\\) before the tire and Hi/I'f /lis ci(/(ii: While at the
same time, all over this fair earth boys are being-
ruined, soul and body,//// fhf rlf/ar; are being diseased
in body, made weak in mind, and vicious in morals;
ai'e tillini:' our reformatories with truants and thieves,
and i-ivinii' us useless and bad citizens.

" I received, only to-day, a letter from an old friend
of nnne who is teaching in Chicago. She has always
claimed that to))acco worked more ruin in the world
than whiske}', because it was so much more widely
used. She has been carefully observing, for some time,
the eli'ect of the cigarette habit on tlie school-boys in
Chicag(x She found that eighty of the boys in the
.school wliei'e she teaches smoke from two to twenty
ciiian'ttes a dav. The result of the liabit is startlintjf.
Only six of that <'ighty are al)le to do good work in
their ela.sses. Nearly all of them confess that they
sufiei- from headache, drowsiness, or dizziness most of
the time. In many cases their hands tremble so that
they cannot write. A nundjer of them are unable to
walk steadily, or run for any distance. These victims

Till hiiKi^ mill Inurt of ;i buy who (lit'(l from tli" cUccts of ciyari'tle
smoking, sliowinL'' tin- nicotine scdiuRMit in lungs and slu'iuikfii
condition of t lie heart .

t ;•

The

lungs

and

liearl

health.

'tl

I '

ill'

114 (^UEER (QUESTIONS QUAINTf.Y ANSWERED.

are unablo to nieniorize anything correctly, nor can
thoy rouse tlieniselves to meet the examination test.
Except in three cases the pupils hardest to discipline
are smokers. The truants and tliieves in the school
are, in nearly all cases, ci<ijarette users."

Tlie tears stood in Gladys' eyes.

" What rai} be done to help tliem, niannna {"

" There is only one thing that I can see. Our
women must he the rescue force. 'I'he men ot* our
country are so largely under the control of the
poisonous, soul-deadening weed, that wa can hope l)ut
little from tliem as a class. From the women must
come our help, not only the mothers, but the daughters-
Every girl, no matter how young or weak, must plant
herself firmly against it.

" I was reading, just the other day, that Dr. Trail
says many a little baby lias been killed outright by
the tobacco smoke with which a father has filled the
room. i\Iany doctors say, too, that a great deal of the
ill-health with which our women constantly suffer is
ownng to the tobacco smoke which they breathe day
by day. The smoking members of the household fill
their pipes, have their smoke, then themselves go out
into the fresli air, leaving the mother and little ones to
breathe for hours those poisonous fumes. In summer
it is not quite so bad, for the doors are open : but in
winter, when they are largely kept closed, the poison
must necessarily injure the inmates of the house.

" One time a little three-year-old baby used an old
wooden pipe to blow soap bubbles with. The pipe

!■

THE HOYS WHO SMOKE.

115

»^>

hud first been well washed out, but he took aick, and
in three days died. The <loctor said he had been
poisoned from the nicotine he had sucked in while
blowint,^ the bubbles. Moistened tobacco leaves placed
over the stomach has suddenly caused death. There
are many, many things which my little ^\r\ will learn
about tobacco v\ hen she (^lows older, but she will never
learn one good thing of it. And the better she becomes
herself the more she will dislike it.

"There is one thing which she can do to help put
down the evil, and this one thing every girl has the
chance to do. It is not to have as associates at (ill
boys who use tobacco. I hope my daughter will start
out in life with the firm resolution that she will be
choice of her company. If girls were half as particu-
lar about their boy companions as boys are about
their girl companions, we would soon have a much
better class of society. If there were a young girl in
this town who smoked cigarettes along the street,
who used bad language, and went into the hotel and
took a glass occasionally, there isn't a respectable boy
around here who would own her as his friend. And
yet, sweet, good girls often think nothing at all of
having as companions boys who smoke constantly,
even smoke in their presence. Boys who have so far
lost their self-respect as to smoke, use profane
language, and ' tipple ' ([uite a little, often count
among their companions the best girls of the place.
Is it right, little daughter I "

" No, mamma, it is not right," she answered, w^hile

IK) (,)rKKI{ (^lESTlONS (JI'AINTI.V WSWKKKI).

^ I

I '

IxT cluM'ks tliislu'd. "1 am asliained to think <nrls
will do siU'li thing's. I liopo I never sliall."

" Tiiere is one tliino-, my dear, wliich we cannot «;et
around. I>()ys like girls, and girls like boys, l^ut I
think that in order to ])lease tlie boys girls often
sacriHe*! .1 prinei|)le, Now. we ouglit to remember
that woman was not ereated merely to please man.
(lod thought vei'v ditlrrently from tiiat about it. He
said, "I will make her to be a lielp-mate for him."
And when she gives up lier power to help him in
order to pleasti him, she is Falling short of the noble
pui-pose for which she was created, and is doing the
world a great wi'ong. (lirls are naturally more re-
fined than boys, and htne*' it is more easy for then>
to resist temptation. Ihit she must not buy a boy's
friendship by stepping down one inch from the high
and holy platform on which (Jod lias placed her. He
must become worthy of her, rise to her standard, if
he wishes her friendship or esteem."

(Jlad3's looked very .serious for a few miimtes, ihen
said slowly, as if weighing every word :

"So you think, manmia, if nil girls would be firm
for the right, would stand by the principles which to
them are most natural an<l most ccmgenial ; if they
would solenndy refuse to have as associates any
young men who were not strictly moral, that the boys
as a class would give up their vices and live as men
ought L 3."

" I do, Gladys, I do most solemnly believe it. Our
little bovH would then be tauoht in the home that

•+*

THE I'.OVS WHO SMOKi:.

117

they must not contract had lial)its, or tlicy would be
cast out of society. Tlie i'atliers tlien won)*! be moral
men, and tlio little boys would not ho often have bad
examples before tliem. If oidy our girls would be
firm on this subject they could soon revolutionize
socii.'t}'. Woman stands at society's door and lets
enter whom she will. How sad that she lets in such
depraved, immoral men ! Men would not allow' them-
selves to be shut out from woman's society. If she
re(|uired that he come up to hei* standard in order to
enter he would comply with the deuiand."

" Are women, then, to blame for all the sin of the
world :* " she said, half .sadly. "Is nothin*^ recjuired
of a man ? Mu.st woman do all the liftin(]f up :* May
a man continue to do wrontj till some woman makes
it necessary for him to do right ( "

I smiled a little. Tliey were the ver}^ same ([ues-
tions which I myself had a.sked over and over again,
when I was younger. It had seemed all wrong, all
unjust then. Why should man, who claimed to be
the strong one, the head, the glory of woman, blame
her if he w^ent a.stray ^ But I looked at it differently
now, for I had learned that (iod had given her more
strength in some things tlian He had given man : she
was stronger to resist temptation, and that she must
not become weak in that one point or the world
begins to retrograde.

" It does, my dear, seem a great deal to ask of one
sex," I replied. " And when it is from that one, too,
which is connnonly called the weaker. But we can-

:!1

'(1! i

n.S gL'i:i:i{ (JIKSTIOXS (,tlAINTI,V AN.sWi;i!i;l>.

not (lisputc the fact that slic lias tlic powti- to imt
oiily k(M'|) Iicrsc'ir Imt to I<<'<']) oflicrs IVoin I'alliiiL;', ii'
only hIm' lias tlu' will to do so. When the dt ai' l\*itlit.'r
lias n-iven licr this |)()\vcr, ou^^'ht she not to ;4"l*>ry in
nsino- it, rather than in thinkinj-" o!' it as iinnstico !* "

" I find so nianv thin<rs all the tinic. niannua, which
seoni so straiiiic to nic, I hall' wish I didn't haxc to
thiid< of them," she said, with a little si^h.

" I hit my little daui;hte)' cannot cscap*! thcni," 1
returned. " She must beai' hei" share ol' the world's
l)Ui'(len, and that i^n'cat, awful hurden is sin."

She turned to the window auain. The mist was
deepening', and th(^ wind still hlew. The hoys we
ha<l heen watching' a little while before returne*!, and
stopped almost in fi'ont of the window to divide ;i
packaii;e of ci^'arette tobacco, (lladvs watched them
silently till they passed on. Then she looked at me
with an e.xjiression of deep pity.

" i\Iamma, can't we do somethinii' for the little boys
here :' Couldn't we have some kind of an anti-cio-a-
rette society, and e-et as many boys as possible to
join it. We could have oirls and boys both belon^; :
tlie girls' pled^;e be to have no boy companion who
used tobacco; and the boys' pledge, not to touch it in
any form."

" Ves, we can do that, (dadys. There are sucli socie-
ties in some places, but there has never been any here.
I sliall be glad to do all I can to lielp such a society;
and I know your father will, from time to time, per-
form experiments to show them what a deadly poison

cf>

'iiii: r.ovs WHO s.MoKK

119

there is in toltacco. I )r. Ilioflic, (^)»U't'n Victoria's
|)liysi('i;in, rnuii<l that ;i liltlc iiicotiiu! apjtHcii to thf
t()ii;;U(' nl' a iiiouso, siiuiriTl, or (Iol,^ Iwih instantly })i"o-
(hK;«'<l death. A iVon- plMcrd in a rtcciNcr eontainin;^
a (h"()|) ol' nicotine in a little water, will die in a i'ew
hours. 'I'lie oil lloatin^-on tin- snrraceol' water, wlieii
a stream ui tobacco smoke has passed throu<^li it, il'

A section of the diseased lung of a cigarette smoker, highly

niagnillcd.

applied to a cat's ton<^aie, shortly causes death. If
one drop of nicotine is applied to a cat's tongue it
will instantly wi'ithe in convulsions and <lie. An<l
yet men will use this poison, destroying themselves
physically, mentally, and morally.

"Your father, I know, will gladly perform some
such experiments for the l)03's and girls of the town,
and Ave may yet do a little for the young people liere."

At that moment her father entered, and she bounded
to him to tell liini of our new intention.

1 1

120 (^i;ki;i: (.•ri:s'ii(>\s (^iaixii.v .\\s\m;i{|;i).

At till' end (»r two moiitlis wi- Ii.-hI torty iiiciiiIum's.
fi^litt'cn ot* wliiHii uci'r hoys. Tli(3 socii'ty continufd
to {^row till tli(! ^^I'catcr pfirt ol tlir yonii^' ))t'o|)l(! of
tlio town lit'I()ii;^^«Ml. 'I'liis much was dour in oik; litth;
.spot. Who with a desire to do soiiicthiiij^ I'or tlu'
Master will try it in another :*

rilK DKsrUICIIN K KI'I'KCTS «»l' (KJ.MtK'ITK S.M()KIN(;.

Ci^Mrettes have l)een analyzed, and most physi-
cians and chemists weio sur|)rised to find how imich
opium is put into them. A tobacconist hiniself
says that " the extent to which dru^s an; used in
ci*:farettes is a])pallin«^." " Havana tlavorin*;" for this
same purpose is sold everywhei-e by the tluHisand
barrels. This llavorini:- is made from the t )id<a bean
which contains a deadly poison. The wrappers, war-
ranted to bo rice papia*, are sometimes made of conunon
paper, and sometimes of the Hlthy scrapings of ra;^-
pickers bleached white with arsenic. What a thing
for human lun<^s.

The habit burns U]) ^ood health, *;'ood resolutions,
good manners, good memories, good faculties^ and often
honesty and truthfulness as well.

Cases of epilepsy, insanity, and death are freipiently
reported as the result of smoking cigarettes, while
such physicians as ])r. Lewis Sayre, Dr. Hammond,
and Sir Morell Mackenzie of England, name heart
trouble, blindness, cancer, and other diseas-es as
occasioned by it.

Leading phj'sicians of America unanimously con-

\[i

THE BOYS WHO SMOKK,

121

Illustrating tho Hhrunken condition of oni!
of the hums of iin fxccssivo smoker.

ci<,^arette smoking. It takes no pliysiciun to diagnose
his case, and deatli will surely mark i'or his own
every boy and young man who will i'ol'ow up the
habit. It is no longer a matter of guess. It is a
scientific fact which the microscope in every case
verities.

I !

vt<riito.i<«.<;.,vjMM<4)«h«».a>Mitni»j)»,iM>h...wttriii<^

CHAPTER XIV.

■^li!

BM H

A NAMELESS CHILD.

GLADYS came thoughtfully up the walk. She
tossed her books on the table and started in
search of me. I was in my room sewing. She sat
down on the stool at my feet, clasped her hands in
my lap, and looked up at me with perplexed, question-
ing eyes.

" Mamma," she said, " I know you never teach me
anything but the truth, yet something was said at
school to-day tha.t I can hardly help believing, and it
is entirely different from what you have taught me.
There is something hidden, somewhere, that I don't
understand."

I took the puzzled little face between my hands and
kissed it fondly.

" Tell us what it is, sweetheart, and we'll try to get
it all cleared up," I said.

" Well, at recess this afternoon, we girls were stand-
ing in the hall talking. While we stood there Mary
Davis went past wheeling a baby-buggy, A little titter
passed through the crowd ; some of the little girls
gave a little shrug, and one of them said :

"'It's a sweet, bright baby just the same.' Then

she turned to Charlotte Stockton, saying : ' Have you

seen it, Charlotte ^ '

122

•Is

A NAMELESS CHILD.

123

" Charlotte shook her head, and said rather sadly :

" ' No, I haven't seen it, and I don't know that I
want to. I feel sorry for Mary, but I feel more sorry
for it. Poor little thing ! It hasn't any father, and
it hasn't any name, yet it has to (^o through life just
the same as others. I fear it won't find the world so
sweet a place as some of us do.' "

" I didn't ask her what she meant, mamma, but,
somehow, I felt that she had told the truth. Yet you
have taught me that every living creature has a father
and a mother."

I threw aside my sewing. I felt that I couldn't
give one wee speck of attention to anything else, if I
were to work out for my little one this puzzle which
she had brought me. I looked at her thoughtfully
for a few minutes. Why should I or any mother
hesitate in explaining any part of the Creator's work
which we know all ought to and must learn before
they are very old ? Is it a fear that too young children
will abuse the knowledge ? I think this is partly the
reason ; but every mother must know, once and for all,
that her child is lu longer too young to know when
once the question has formed itself in its mind. And
know, too, that the child will not abuse any knowledge
which comes sparkling and pure from the fountain
of home-love ; fear rather the knowledge which it
drinks from the gutter. VHien once a child feels a
thirst for a certain bit of information, be assured
that it will not rest till that thirst has been satisfied
from some source or other.

" Gladys," I said, " you have, hitherto, thought of

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124 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

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tile papa only as a protector — one to care for the
mamma and her little ones. I have allowed you to
do so, for there was no reason for doino- otherwise. 1
don't believe in forcing knowledge upon children. It
is something like eating when yon're not hungry— it
causes indigestion. When a reasonable time has
elapsed since the last meal, one wants more : and we
grow by what we feed upon. When one truth has been
thoroughly digested the child craves for more : Ijut
too much at once would only have made it sick. And
a sick mind is worse than a sick stomach.

"The truth that everybody has a mamma and a
papa was so early implanted in your mind, and has
so grown up with 3'ou, that perhaps you have never
paused to ask yourself: 'Why muni everything have
l)oth a papa and a mamma ? ' It is the mamma who
cares for the little one before it is born. Has the
papa, then, anything to do with its life more than
caring for the mannna? Is that little one a part of
the papa's being as well as of the manmia's ? If not,
then the girls may be correct, and jMary's baby may
not have any father. But if he, too, must give that
little one of his life, then mamma's statement was
correct, that all have both a father and a mother."

"Yes, mamma," she said, as she so often did when
she had followed me thus far, Imt didn't wish me to
pause short of the whole truth.

"Pause to think, Gladys, of what you already know
of plant life. Here, for instance, we have p. peach-
tree in bloom. This tree has blossomed but for one
purpose: that it mat/ Iwnr fra'it. We take one of

A NAMELESS CTflLD.

125

those rosy blossoms and examine it. We tiiid, too,
that eviry part of tliat pretty llower servers towai'd
that one purpose. Here are tlie stamens crowned
with pollen dust. That dust is the seed, or germ, for
new life — new peaches. Here is the pistil, and inside
it is another seed or germ for new life — new peaches.
But that pollen dust blows away and becomes useless,
and that pistil withers up and dies ; and no peach
ripens unless that pollen-dust reaches the pistil. The
breeze or the busy bee may do that work, and those
two widely different life-germs, when once brought
together unite to form new life —a new peach. Then
this dainty circle of leaves protects for a little while
that baby peach, and when its work of protection is
done it dies. That ])istil which would have died too,
unless the pollen dust had fallen upon it, now con-
tinues to grow till it is one day a delicious, juicy peach.
"You see, sweetheart, that peach had l" >l! a i)apa
and a mamma. And it could never have Ijeen a peach
at all had it not been for both its papa and its mannna,
for the life-germ of either was dead without the other.
Take these pretty flowers here beside us. They don't
ripen into fruit for man to eat ; their fruit is the seed
which grows in the pistil. And that seed received its
life by the same process that the peach received its
life. And God has carried that plan throughout the
whole work of creation. It doesn't matter whether
it be flowers, or birds, or little insects, or kitties, or
dogs, or horses, or people : it is all the same. In the
papa of each kind has been formed what are c lied
'male organs,' and in the mannna what are called

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120 QUEER quest: )NS QTTAINTLV AXSWEHED.

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* female organs.' And within those organs are the
^erms for new life, each according to its own kind,
and tlie one is dead without the otiier. Tliey must
be united in whatever way Ood has phumed for them
before a new life can l)e given.

"Now, you know, the insects, and the birds, and
some other animals lay eggs, and their little ones are
hatched from the eggs. But before those eggs are
laid, they must first receive the life-germ from the
papa, or they will be lifeless. You know auntie
always keeps among her little flock of hens a great,
lovely rooster. He i"* the papa of all the little chick ies
she has hatched in the spring. U' she didn't keep the
papa rooster among her hens, the hens would lay
eggs just the same, but no little chickies could ever
be hatched from them, because the two opposite life-
germs had not been united in them, and they could
not grow into life. For everything that grows there
must be seed planted somewhere. God has selected
that place in every case, and we have nothing to say
about it, only to carry out his plan. Suppose in the
spring you decide to have a little garden. Papa gets
the plot spaded for you, and you rake it and mark
out the rows, and then sow the seed. You never have
a thought that you could grow vegetables without
iirst planting seed. 'J'here is no chance-work about
(lod's plan. There must be a cause for every effect.
And he has chosen that all life, whether animal or
vegetable, shall spring from some certain kind of seed.
' We pass on from the flowers, the insects, and the
birds, and we come to difl'erent forms of life. We

A NAMELESS CHILD.

127

•

find creatures, us the kitty, whieli you long iv^o
learned about, whom God has so formed as to take
care of their little ones in their own body for a while.
But that baby kitty could never have been born at
all had not the papa kitty first imparted to the
mamma kitty that opposite life-o;erm, in the way
which the F .venly Father had arran«^ed for it to do.
And as in the case of the kitty so in the case of all
animals who give life to their little ones in that way.

" Then, my dear, we pass on from these to the
highest type of life — the human family. You know,
little one, that an act is important just in proportion
to the importance or unimportance of the result to
follow. You sweep off the steps in the morning for
mamma. It is a trifling act, because no great result
is depending upon it. There is a board loose in our
sidewalk, and papa says, ' I must nail that down at
once.' It is important, too, that he should do so, for
someone may trip and be injured. A mad dog is
loose in the town. It is a matter of great moment
that someone shoot that dog without delay or pre-
cious lives may le destroyed. The value of every
act can be measured only by the result which follows.

" Let us, then, apply this truth to the plan of repro-
duction. The flowers blossom a while and die, and
we have no thought for thom after death. The sweet
little birds warble their songs for a few years, then
death gives a pause to their existence. But we do
not mourn over them, for we feel no anxiety for their
future life. IMan alone has God made in his own
image, and to him alone has He given the power to

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128 (^UEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

call into (existence a life whicli shall live forever.
The Howers have been left as free as the breeze to
brinij^ forth new flowers. Tiie birds have the whole
of eartli and sky in wliich to carry out their own
sweet will, dictated only by a God-given instinct.
All the lower animals, too, are largely free to bring
forth new lives at pleasure. But with regard to the
union of man and woman God himself has written
laws, laws which none can disobey w^ithout bringing
sorrow to themselves, and sorrow to those who love
tliem.

" Think for a minute, Gladys. Here is a babe that
has just been born. It has an immortal soul. It can
never, never die. Wlietlier it be good, or whether it
be bad ; whether it grow up to love God and obey
His laws, or whetlier it live in defiance of His love ;
whether its future be spent in heavenly happiness, or
separated from all that is beautiful or good; wdiatever
the case ma}' be, it nuist live on forever. Can you
think, little daughter, of an act more solemn than the
one whicli was the means of "•ivinof that little one
life ^ ]3o you wonder that God has said, none but
those who truly love each other, and who have
solemnly promised in the marriage vows to be true
to each other till death part them, shall have the
right to bring inmiortal lives into the world ?

" Parents owe so nmch to a child, more perhaps
than th-^ \ ?vim- dream of. They owe it a home, not
merely uoc to come up in : a home crowned and
beautii; ", y ))ot]i a fathers and a mother's love.
They owe it the most careful training and the tender-

A NAMELESS CHILD.

120

est <j^uidance. They owe it tlie very best in life which
their united love and efforts can <;ive it. They owe
it, too, the best physical inlieritance whicli it is pos-
sible for them to bestow upon it ; and they are in a
hit^h degree responsible not only for its well-being in
this life, but also for its future happiness or unhappi-
ness. How then shall two who are not married
dream of bringing into the world one for whom there
is not even a welcome waiting, nor a father's love,
nor a father's name ^

" Doesn't it make you adore God more and more as
you discover new wonders and new beauties in His
creative ])lan. How one can cahnly think of it all
and have one impure thought with regard to the
reproduction of life in any of its many forms, is a
mystery to me. The plan which among the flowers
is so sweet, so simple, yet so marvellous, becomes
more and more marvellous as we ascend into the
higher forms of life, till, with deep, still awe in our
souls, we realize that man, with God, becomes a
creator, the life-giver of an eternal being."

Gladys had listened attentively, her elbows on her
knees, her hands clasped under her chin, and an ever-
changing expression on her bright, young face. As I
finished speaking she sighed as one does who returns
to himself after being lost in thought.

" It is all so beautiful, so perfect, mamma ! " she
said. " I think it will take me all my life to begin to
realize, even a little, such a wonderful plan."

Then her face became sad as she continued, " I
now see why the girls scorned poor Mary. In every

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130 (^UEER gUKSTlOXS QUAIN'TJ.V ANSWEKKD.

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country where God's word is read tlie people know
wliat moral laws He has made, and what sins He has
forbidden them to coininit. Every person in this
town knows that ]\Iary has disobeyed one of His
f^^ood, wise laws, and wlien they see lier it always
seems to come to their mind."

" Yes, Gladys, that is it. And there is no wron^j
that a woman can do about which the world acts so
harshly as that. It seems to never forgive, or never
for<:jet. It may forgive the father of that little
wronged child, although his sin is just as great as
hers, but it seldom forgives the mother."

She looked thoughtfully out of the window for a
few nnnutes, then said, slowly :

" I know the sin is great, mannna, but is it so
great that it should never be forgiven ? Isn't the
world very unjust in remembering it against her
forever ^ "

As she spoke an old woman passed the house. There
was a deep scar down the side of her face, which had
been left from a burn in her childhood. Gladys turned
to me like a flash.

" I see it, mamma ; I understand. That poor marred
face has explained it to me. Sin is like a dreadful
burn — it hurts very nuich at the time, and then it
leaves us not so beautiful as we were before. And the
worse the sin the longer it will take the sore spot to
heal, and the deeper will be the scar. We can scarcely
see Mrs. Able without remembering that she once had
a burn, for the scar is there to tell us about it. '

" Yes, dear, that is pretty nearly correct," I replied ;

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MY I'KT.

-*«**»«5^». »n,*^.%.\^

132 QrEEK (QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

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"yet your first idea a]){)ut the world's injustice is
correct, too. Our iiiindH are so constituted that a
whole life-time of incidents will remain clearly written
on them. We may look back over the years of our life
and see month after month, week after week, little
trifling things we thought and said and did. We can't
forget them : they are indelibly pictured on our
memory ; and any important incident, anything which
has greatly pleased or shocked or grieved us stands out
more clearly than all the rest. But to merely remember
a fact, to remember that a per.son made a great mistake,
and to remember it <njaiiisf that person are very
different things. When people take a wrong step, no
matter how great, and tlicy come to realize that it was
not right, become sorry for it, and turn entirely from
it, God forgives them, and says He will ' remember it
against them no more forever.' He w^ashes that blot
off* their souls, and they are just as free from it as you
or I. And although the mere fact that the error was
made cannot pass entirely from our mind, 3'et to
remember it to their disadvantage, to place it in the
balance against them, is just as wrong as to blame one
for that misdeed who never did it all. For that wrong
is not theirs now ; God says He has put it from them
' as far as the east is from the west.'

" Can you then think of anything more unjust or
cruel than to treat with scorn or contempt, or even
pity, one who is now living a right life. When my
little girl grows older she will learn many things about
the world which she doesn't now know^ and doesn't need
to know. And one sad thing she w^ill learn is that

<-i9

A NAMELESS CHIF.D.

133

women arc far more severe witli women wlio liave
erred ever so little, tlian with men who have done
(,a-eat wron^rH. But if she herself will take only the
priviletre which Jesus has (,'iven us in condenniin^^ an
erring one, which is, ' He that is without sin amon^r
yon let him first cast a stone at her,' I know she will
not be unjust in her jud<rnient of others. No one can
ever be certain that he himself would not have fallen
had he had the same temptation. Not every one can
cross over a slippery plank and not fall into the
stream.

CIIAITKU XV.

F1{(»M UoVIIOOI) TO MANHOOD.

I HAD been r(.'ji(liii<^^ but as the li^lit raded I laid
down my book, leantwl back in my canip-cliairand
clasped my hands over my eyes. I was just thinking
what a stmn<i^o world it was, anyway, so niueli of love
and beauty swee])in«^ alon^^ toward the <;jreat unkown
future almost hand in hand with so much of hatred
and ui^linoss. Someone stepped lightly u[) on the
veranda l)eside mo, an<l said softly :

" Auntie, I want to have a little talk with you."
I knew who it was. 1'his little fellow, though no
relative of mine, had always called me " auntie." He
had no mother, no father: only a selHsh, sordid, silent
uncle lived at the place he called home. He seemed
embarrassed, and there was a slight flush on his cheek
as he sat dcnvn beside me.

"I am no Ioniser a child, auntie," he said, a for a
few minutes' silence. " I am fourteen now : it Is not
very old, yet I know that I am becominu;" a man. I
feel it in every fibre of my beincr. And to-day some
ideas were brought to my mind that had never
entered it before. They seemed to stagger me at first.
It seemed as if life with great liidden forces yet
undreamed of, and crimes before unheard of, mingled
with its simple joys and sorrows, M'hirled past me, an

134

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t'udli'ss show ill u iiioiiit'iit ol' tiiiic. It iiiudr iiic (li//.\'.

It iii.'kIc iiic sick, I nislicd IVoiii tlic linust', and
(liiowiii;;- iiiyHcll" down in tlic hay-inow, I wept as I
liavr never done hel'ore. How my Imart lon^^'ed Tor
someone to eontide in I Von are the' only |)arent I
liave evei' had, auntie, so, as stran<jje as it mioht seem
to some, I have come to you to learn the truth a))out
these stran<:e new tliiuiis I have heard. All that I
already know ol' life you have tau^fht me. Oni- many
little talks before have made it easy for me to come
to you now."

"I am so ohid y(ju have come, Ilu^h," 1 said, as I
looked into tlio manly youn<; face. " 1 liavo always
lono-ed for a boy of my own, and God lias chosen to
to answer that desire l)y (:;ivin;,^ me a chance to help
another's boy. What was it 3'ou heard to-day ^ What
is this .sad, new view of life you ^ot :* "

AiT'iin he seemed a little embari'a.ssed.

" I scarcely know how to tell you, auntie. I
scarcely know where to be^in, or how to ask what
I want to know.

" To-(hiy several young nien on l>icycles stopped at
uncle's. Thev threw themselves down to rest under
the trees in front of the house. Uncle was outside
with them. I was in the house, but I could not help
hearing all that was said. I mi<;ht have <^one oti' and
not listened, of course, but I seemed s})ell-bound. I'm
not going' to tell you all they said — I couldn't if I
wanted to. I don't understand all they said, and I
shall never try to : l)ut oh, auntie ! I learned enough
to know that all the world is not so sweet and pure

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136 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

as this little spot where you uiid Gladys live ; and
that all the men in it aren't like L^ncle Gray."

He paused a moment. Tlien liis eyes seemed
ablaze as he said in a low, intense voice :

" Oh, auntie, auntie ! can it, ('(in it be that there are
such vile, vile thinf^s done in this world as those men
laughed and talked carelessl}' about ? Can it be
possible that this wonderful body of ours could be
made so base and foul ? "

I laid ni}'^ hand on his ; it was cold and tremblino-.

" Hugh," I said, " this revelation which you have
had is one which must come sooner or later to every
boy. And if he be pure-minded it will shock and
hurt him just as it has done you.

' Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
Tluit to he liiited needs but to be seen.'

If only you will continue to hate it as you do now,
for you all will be well. Sometimes we can shield
our girls from such knowledge as has been thrown
upon you to-day. It is possible for a woman to live
and die, and see only the pure and good in life. But
as surely as a boy lives and moves in the world he is
going to learn of its evil ; if not from books, from his
fellow-men. And that boy is grand and noble indeed,
who, amidst all the impurity of the world, keeps
himself pure.

" I have tried to teach you since 3^ou were a very
little boy something of the \nystery of life, how it is
wrapped even in one small flower with its stamens,
pistils and ovaries. I have tried to lead you on from

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FROM BOYHOOD TO MANHOOD.

137

the apparent and simple tliat tlie deeper things might
not seem so strange."

" I know ^'ou have," he answered quickly, " but I
never before seemed to see it or understand it as I do
just now. I long ago learned from your lips that
' everything' had a mamma and i)apa ; that the whole
world was made up of pairs, and pairs, and pairs — the
male and the female everywhere ; but it never seemed
to occur to me till to-day that I might be one of those
pairs ; that in my body, as a sacred trust, had been
placed a power that in after years might be the
means of giving life to beings which shall live
throughout the great eternity. And yet it is true,
isn't it, auntie ? "

I could '^nly answer reverently. " Yes," for his face
glowed with a holy emotion, and he was looking out
into the great, boundless blue above us, as if only
there he could find a response to this solemnity which
had entered his soul.

After a while he turned to me again. The light
had faded from his face, and t I id become sad.

"Hugh," I said, " I knov, wh.d you are thinking of
now. You have remen*> ,;ed some of those things
you heard this aftcrnooii. I, too, wonder, with you.
how one could in the still lour look up into heaven s
eternal blue, and kiiow that God and eternity were
before him, ;ind not loathe sin and iong for righteous-
ness, that he might spend that eternity witli God ard
not without Him. There is sometlrng s*^ soui-inispii.'-
ing in feeling that we belong to God, tlMi/ wp are a
part of Him, and that, if only we wiii <>hey Hi.<^ laws,

138 (^I'EEii (^up:sti()Ns quaintly answekpjd.

:!'

we shall some day have a glorified body, and be fit to
dwell forever in worlds inoi'e j^lorious than those we
can iniaj^ine wlien we gaze into the starlit sky. 'God
has given ns a life which is to last forever, and the
little time we spend on earth is as nothing to tlie ages
we are to spend in the world beyond : so onr earthly
life is a very important part of our existence, for it is
here that the foundation is laid for either hap})iness
or misery in the future. It is here that we decide
our destiny, and our efforts to kncnv and obey God's
laws in our bodies as well as in our souls will not
only bring blessings to us in this life, but never-
ending happiness throughout eternity.'

" We seem to so often forget that our bodies be-
lontj to God as well as our souls. He made us in His
own image, and the body is the temple in which He
placed the s])irit formed with His own breath. And
we cannot defile this temple for the Spirit in any way
without sinning. If in any way we make this body
less pure, or less perfect than the Creator intended,
we have done wrong, we have broken some holy law.
God has formed every part of our body for a certain
purpose, with a certain work to do ; and just so long-
as it is doing that work as He intended, is working
in harmony with the divine will, it will be perfect
and happy. But so soon as it begins working con-
trary to His law it begins to sufi'er.

"You have t()-d;iy realized more clearly than you
ever did before that you have organs which make
you i<p('cl(dly a hoi/. They are (iod-given ; they are
hoi}'' ; they are yours in sacred trust till 3^ou become
a man. And God has made laws concernini*- those

KiiaaiiaEBaMgiafiaaimS'CTityi^

FRO.M liOVIlOOD TO MAXFTOon.

139

{

sexual organs which cannot, t/arr not he disolx'yed
without tlie most awi'ul j)unalty heing paid. Tliu
lirst groat law concerning tlieni is that tliey must not
be liandled at (ill, tliey nmst not be touclied except to
keep them clean. It' they are the whole body sutters.
The liandlino- of them draws too much blood to them,
wliich causes a diseased condition. There are many
nerves connecting those organs with the spine and
thus with the brain. When tliey are liandled those
uerves become excited and tired out, so that the back
aclies and the brain becomes dull and heavy, the
memory poor, and the wdiole body weak. Sometimes
the boy becomes insane, or commits suicide, or does
some other fearful deed. Sometimes he becomes
paralyzed, or dies of consumption or heart disease.

"Oh, Hugh! must not the sin be terrible indeed,
that brings such punishment ? When I think of the
numberless ones throufi-hout our land who have form-
ed that b^l habit, I wonder liow God can look upon
the wor(u -l- .11. But then I remember that He who
knowp ; U things, knows that many, many liave
fallen ijec^, . '^ they didn't know the danger. No one
had warned th.oin, no one lia<l told them that they
nuist not dc such things. How I wish my voice
might reach every one of them as I sa}': 'Boys, girls,
give it up 1 There is hope for you if only you will
never touch yourselves again. Better far to cut off"
your hands than to continue such a practice, Do you
want to g"ow up happy, healthy and strong ?— then
obey God's laws.'

"The otlier law concerning those organs is that
they must not be used exce2)t as He intended. And,

■9
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140 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

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my boy, (fod never intended those organs to be used
;it all till a man is fully iji'oirn, and need I add, a
niarried man. Vou liave liad to-day a startling
revelation that this law is not always obeyed."

The boy's cheeks tiushed, and he said with deep
feeling :

"Oh, auntie, I am ashamed to think I was ever
born a man ! "

I placed my hand on his shov ' vnd looked into
liis clear, honest eyes.

"Hugli, my bo}^ never, never be ashamed of that.
'A perfect man is the noblest work of God.' Jesus
was a man. Socrates and Plato and Luther and
Bunyan and Judson and Franklin and Gladstone and
Emerson and Drummond were men. Thank God
that you are a man and may work among men, and
may raise a voice against the vice you find there.
Keep yourself pure and undefiled, and the greatest
usefulness, the greatest blessings and happiness will
be yours.

"Boys have many temptations. You will learn
that when you are a little older — you have had one
lesson to-day. The world contains many just such
men whose mouths are full of foul stories, and who
will even teach innocent boys that fearful practice of
self -abuse. News stands and cheap magazines are
tilled with sensational stories which awaken in 3'oung
minds all kinds of wrong thoughts. Indecent pic-
tures are scattered and pasted here and there for
young eyes to gaze upon. Oli, my boy, there is only
one sure way of escape ! Turn a deaf ear and a blind
eye to all such things. Keep your mind pure, for it

FROM 150YH00D TO MANHOOD.

141

is ill the mind first that all evil seed is sown. It is
the mind alone wliich controls the body for good or
bad habits. One cannot listen to indecent talk, look
upon indecent pictures, and read indecent stories, and
not have the mind filled witli indecent thouiihts
And when the mind is thus filled it tliinks continually
of the sexual organs, and one mnst not think of tlwDi.
They must be left alone. God will take care of them.
If ihey are thought of continually it excites them, and
gives a desire to either handle them, or use them as
God has said ' Thou shalt not.'

"While a young boy make it a rule not to associate
with any who talk or act indecently, and do not
break the rule throughout your life. Think good
thoughts, read good books, choose good companions,
learn to love God and reverence His works. Shun
tobacco and wliiskey more than you would Satan if
he appeared to you with horns and hoofs. Leave the
theatre, the billiard table, and the dancing hall to
those wdio do not know that they are made in the
image and likeness of God. Keep busy: you know
the old adage, 'Idleness is the devil's workshop,' and
surely nothing is truer. Let no one delude you by
saying that purity of life is not possible. You can
be all that a noble man ought to bo, if with God's
help you will to be such. Keep the mind pure, and
the body will obey."

Hugh leaned over and kissed me, as he had done
from babyhood, and said :

"Oh, auntie, if only, only every boy had someone
to talk to him — to teach him tlie right from the

J, •;!|

< !3

wrong

I "

ipli

li||li|Wl |l lili» lHi NWMV , «ww

CHAPTER XVI.

!. ii

DISAI'POIXTMENT.

77 OUR more years slipped away. " M}' baby," as
JL I still often fondly called her, had <;rown as
tall as myself. And as I lorVod back over those
fourteen years with her I could not but wonder at
their perfect happiness. IIow inan^^ homes I knew
in which ill-health, or death, ur n\iyfortune of some
kind, had marred their brightness.

Now, for the first time, a shadow seemed to be
creeping upon us. Gladys grew less strong and lively
every day. She was not yet what people called
positively sick, but her cheek was losing its color,
and lier eye its brightness, while her step became less
buoyant. I had watched her carefully, anxiously for
several weeks, perplexed to know what was best.
Four years before 1 had explained to her the func-
tions of the special female organs, but they had never
yet fulfilled that function. Had she remained well
and strong I should not liave worried, for many girls
are fifteen or sixteen before they menstruate. But
Gladys was growing pale, and it made my heart ache,
for I knew it would interfere with her plans of
study.

She was within one year of High School gradua-
tion, and a university course was her ambition. She

142

1! I

DISAPPOIXTMEXT.

143

had done brilliant work at school, and I was justly
proud of her. I foresaw a )>reak in her course now,
yet I put ofi' speaking- to her about it day after day
in the hope that she would begin to feel better. One
afternoon she came in from school, threw her books
on the table, and dropped wearily into her father's
great arm-chair.

I sat down on a stool at her feet, and took her
hands in mine. She turned her liead from me, but I
could see that her eyes were moist.

" What is it, Gladys ? " I said. " You won't hide
anything from me, will you :' "

" I don't know what it is," and the long, slim
fingers twitched nervously in mine. " I am not
myself, mamma. I missed in class to-day — the first
imperfect lesson I have had for months." And a tear
coursed slowly down her cheek.

I looked into the pale, tired face, and knew that I
must do my duty, no matter how hard. Yet how
could I do it ? How could I tell her she must give
up school for a time ? In other words, that she must
leave the class with whom she had studied for three
years. She must see them graduate without her ;
some of them enter upon university courses, and she
be left behind in the race.

" I know what is the matter, my dear," I said ;
"you are not well ; you haven't been for some time."

She raised herself up (piickly in her chair. " Don't
say that, mamma, don't, for I must be well ! I )iiiiKf
be, or how can I study ? And I mast stud}-, or how
can I remain at the head of the class ? That (jold
medal is mine."

'I
if

ffV^^Wjft**^

'f^liyyWKrMBariwawMji-'^pj p^ ^ i.i.'.''iv ai -.bmiu

144 QCEKIJ (^rESTTONS (^I'AINTLY ANSWERED.

The colorless cheeks were now Hushed, and the
tired eyes were bright.

" And that oold modal is dearer to you than any-
thing else in tlie world," I said slowly, emphatically.

Ill I

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1

V--

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WAITING FOR A RIDE.

"Do not reproach me like that, mamma," she
replied nervously. " Surely I have worked hard for
it for three years ; can I give it up at the beginning
of this last year ? "

" Not without a great struggle, and a great vie-
tory."

mmmm»

DISAIM'OIN'I'MKXT.

145

" Victory ! Don't talk of such n victory, inuiniiia.
A ricfori/ to loKC what I most lon^^; to liave ^"

"A victory over yourself, my dear, in surrendering
when you know it is wise."

"I cannot surrender. I (<i.niiot!" Slie cla.sped
lier hands ti^Iitly together and gazed past nie into
space, with a look of determination which I liad
never seen before.

"Gladys," I .said, .solemnly, "all your life until
now you have been healthy and strong. You are
now fourteen, but for some rea.son you have not yet
menstruated, as most girls do. The reason, I firmly
Vjelieve, is that you have studied too hard. The
vitality which should have gone to those particular
organs has been called elsewhere. If, in your present
state of ill-health, you continued to study as you have
in the past, I should expect to bury my daughter, or
see her become a half invahd — a weak, delicate,
nervous woman, unable to fill the place in life which
God has given her; in a word, a useless woman. My
dear little girl, either of those things would break my
heart. Either of them, too, would be harder for you
than to give up that medal — to give up school now."

When I uttered the last little phrase she gave a
start. She had been thinking only of working less
hard, for a time, not of dropping out of line entirely.

" You don't mean — mannna — oh ! you don't mean !"
She hid her face in her hands, and her whole frame
shook with convulsive sobs.

When she became a little quieter, I sai<l :

" I haxe never yet forced you, my dear, and I am
not going to force you now ; it will not be necessary.

' '

V'i •

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14() QUEER QFESTIOXS (.H'AINTr.V ANSWKUEI).

You realize soinetlun;^ of i\w importance of liealth.
You do not value it (piito ho hif(hly as I, l)eeaus(' you
liave not lived so lon^ and do not yet know its Full
importance. A [)erson without health is like a second-
hand machine, not ahlc to properly do its woik,
always ^-ettint^ out of oi'der, and continually f^ivin^'
out in the most inconvenient and unexpected |)laces.

"A person is only a machine propelled by soul-
power instead of steam or haiid-i)Ower. And, as I
liav(! so often told you, a woman is a most intricate
and marvellous machine. Let any part of the body
go wrono- ;ind we do not feel well. I Jut let there be
anythin<i^ the matter with those most delicate and
vital or^'ans in a woman's body, those orijfans which
are now giving you this trouble, and sh(3 at once
becomes pale, weak, nervous and cross; her head
aches, and her back aches, and she wonders what is
tlie matter. Those origans are so situated in the body,
and so connected through the nervous system with
every part of it, tliat they cannot l>e atf'ected in any
way without also ati'eetin^- every part.

"And my poor little g'w], Mdioni I liad so hoped
would escape any of these troubles, has come in for
lier share of it. 1 fear that over-study has been the
miscliief-maker. Most ss^uAh cannot endure without
liaruj as nnich study as a boy, for their body has this
extra work to perform, and that so frcMpiently, thus
callin<^ for a n-i-oat deal of extra vitality. ^lany,
many of our <;"irls in competing with boys stand side
by side with them in the class, but their physical
nature pays the penalty. I sometimes wish that our
boys and girls might be educated in separate schools ;

■ m iii n *

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DISAIM'OINTMEXT.

14^

for wliat a boy takes t'oiii" years to do a <^irl should
take five. Not that she is less strong mentally, or that
she has less power of endurance physically, hut that
lier body has more work to do. (Tsually, while her
poor body is endeavorin<r to do its extra work she is
studyinjLJ just as hard as on any other day, instead of
takin<^^ ahsnl iifc niental and physical rest as she ou^ht
to. The natural and inc^'itable conse([uence follows
— she becomes sick, that is she doesn't feel well ; she
goes to the doctor : she takes iron ; she goes right on
violating nature's laws — (iixl sJn' stai/s sir/,-."

(Jladys had sat with a dreamy, far-away look in her
eyes, but I knew she had lieard every word I said.
When I had finished her eyes met mine very calmly,
and very camly, too, slie said :

"So, because I am a woman, my course is to be
broken into. I am to step out of the class I love ; I
am to give up the envied and lionored position which
I have held for three years; I am to give to a boy,
simply because he is a boy, i/mf (jold vieddl .' "

The calmness died from her eyes : she threw back
the curls from her forehead, and exclaimed with a
sort of agony :

"Oh ! I wish I were a man ! "

"Are you sure you do, my dear ?" I said half sor-
rowfully. Then I kissed her, and quietly left her to
fight it out, as I knew it must be fought, alone.

The next day was Saturday, and instead of going
to the study after breakfast she went down to the
river for a walk. She had eaten scarcely any break-
fast, and was dreamy and quiet. She returned just
in time for dinner, but she seemed tired and ate little.

LWftniT"'y"' '"■, ', ""F'B

■ I i,

148 t^l'KKlJ (VIESTIONS (,»ITA1NTI,V .\\SWK1U:I).

After dinner slir put her arm around nie, and laiil lu'v
head on my .shoulder, sayin;^ :

" You won't mind, mamma, il' I leave you a<;ain
this afternoon. The hou.se seems to stille me."

"Of cour.se not, my darlin<.j," I replied. I could
hardly keep back the tears. I wanted to help her so
much, but I knew I could not.

7\t tea-time she was Just as (juiet as ever, and soon
afterward went to be<l. Sunday morninj^came ; with
a blushinf]^ face (dado's asked to be excu.sed from
church.

" I feel as if I couldn't sit through the service," she
said pleadingly.

In the evening the same plea was offered. I longe-l
to .stay at home with her, but I knew I had lier
entire confidence, and that I could not help her in the
pre.sent struggle or she would have let me know.

It was a calm, lovely autumn evening. When I
returned from ciuirch I found her sitting in the
garden with the many-tinted leaves strewn about
her. 1 sat down beside her: she looked up at me
with a bright smile — the struggle was over I I clasped
her little hand in mine ; my heart was too full for
words. For several minutes we sat in silence, then
she said :

" Mamma, I want you to forgive me for this rebel-
lion, which only to-night I have been able to quell.
I wonder now that so many har.sh and bitter feelings
could have sprung up in my heart."

Her color deepened as she continued. " I want you
to foi'give me, too, mamma, for saying I wished I
were a man. Just think ! All my life I have had

>11.

DlSAI'I'OlNT.MtXT.

14!>

the exjimi)K' and tin- truchiiin- oj' tlic Ix'st woman in
tlio world. 1 liavc lealizcfl, too, tlu' noliility ol" a
woman's lil't;. 1 luivc^ IV-lt so often tliut no one holds
) llrndy the (h'stiny ot" the world as a mother does.
I have believed, too, with all my heait, that the
Heavenly Father makes no mistakes, that his wise
and perl'ect plan is i'or the {^^ood of his children: yet
I'or two days I liave I'ouij^ht against it as il" I hail
no\ er known au«:ht of i^ood oi* rinht. I have sur-
rendered, manuna ; God has forgiven me; I know
you will."

Slic took my face between her hands, as she had
done so often years before, and kissed me again and

'gam.

"You are my own dear baby, still," I said, " an<l
there is nothing in this world you could do, no matter
how much it grieved me, that I could not forgive."

But I was not fully satisfied with what she had
told me.

" Glad\'s," I said, "you have surrendered from a
moral and spiritual standpoint, but have you seen the
importance of this step from a purely physical stand-
point :* I do not want you to miss that side of the
question either, my deai'."

She smiled. " That is just like you, mamma. You
must have a thorough sweep or you will not be satis-
fied. Yes: I have not failed to look at it from that
point of view. That has impressed me as much as
anything ; for we can hardly- separate the spiritual
and the physical while we are in this world, they are
too dependent on each other. The ancient Greeks
were right — we want a sound mind in a sound hodij.

■•l\

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150 gUEEU (^LESTIONS (QUAINTLY AXS\VE1{EI).

v".

I think it must bu very hard to be really good ; to be
ill any sense perfect morally, with a diseased body.
Health of body is surely the foundation of health of
of mind. I am so ii'lad, mannna, that you have
always taught me how im})ortant it is to be well and
strong. I want to be useful; I want to make the
most, and tlie best of my life. How could I hope to
do that if I were weak and delicate ;*

"This afternoon I have been thinkiufj' it all over:
lookintj: forward, in a sense, over mv future life.
How little of it will be spent in the school-room :
liow much of it in the actual warfare of life. How
little will it matter if a year or two moi*e are taken
now for study ; but how nuicli will it matter, if
through over-study now, every day of my future life
is made less useful, less viwrous. The thoui-'ht of
suffering for years and years for a bit of foolish pride
now has made me willing to leave the school-room,
and my books, resign my place to another, and let
ni}' body have fresh air, exercise, and rest. I have
been studying too hard ; for several months I have
felt that my strength was giving way."

Despite her noble decision and clear reasoning her
eyes were filled with tears, and she dropped her head
on my shoulder to hide them. Poor, dear child !
How willingly I would have, but I could not prevent
the step which must be taken.

" Glad^^s," I said, softly, "there isn't a happier
mother in this great, wide world than I, to think I
have so good, so wise a daughter."

"If I am either, mamma, it is only because you
have taught me to lie such," she replied.

DISAPPOINTMEXT.

151

'I'lic next (lav she broujiiit Jor books all home
I'l'oiii school. She put them in a drawei' in the
study desk, and turned the k(»y on tliem.

" I cannot bear to see them around," she sai<l, trying
to smile.

Then throui>h the rest of that fall, through the
winter, and the ollowing sprinj^- and sunrner, she
o-ave herself uj) to rest and open air exercise Sonie
weeks she would feel stronger, and others so weak
that .she could hardl}^ get around at all. I watclied
her day after day as only a mother can watch a be-
loved cliild ; how often with misgiving and sadness,
but never once did she lose hope.

"I know I shall soon be strong and well, 'she
would say in her happy, suiniy way. "I am obeying
the laws of Xatui-e, and Nature is kind if only we
will have a little patience and consideration."

Then one day early in the fall she came to me, iier
face aijflow and her eves dancinii; with delijxht. For
an instant I wondered what good news she had for
me. Then I clasped her hands saying only,

" Gladvs : "

'"Yes, mamma," she said, joyously, "you have
ii'uessed it. I shall be all ricrht now. I have men-
struated ! And I haven't a pain, nor an ache, nor one
bad feeling."

We dropped down ow the sofa together and cried
like children.

After a bit, smilinu' throuoh her tears slie said :

" A whole year now I have been home. But after
Christmas, mamma, I shall be strong enough to go
back to school ! "

111

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.i>i«^MUiA^„l,^.l}««^.lil^lj,ig;;_„0^„ .,

- »ltlimillU)-kiii&%,^ VMUA

CHAPTER XVII.

SUICIDE.

IT was recess at school. The ^jirls were in the
dressing-room. One of them had just tinislied
reading- an item in a newspaper as Gladys entered the
room. Mingled expressions of amusement, surprise,
horror, and pity went up from among them.

" What can it be ? " said Gladys, laughing. " What
single anecdote has called forth such a variety of
feeling '. "

" It is dreadful ! " said one.

" Funny, you mean," put in another.

" Funny ! " returned the first speaker ; " you call it
funny for a man to be killed ? "

" Yes, when he is killed by a tight corset."

" I think it is outrageous ! " exclaimed another.
" Doesn't anyone know a man can't stand a corset ?
Poor fellow ! He was fine, too ; I heard him last fall.
It's a funny thing if they cannot get along without
making seventeenth century dudes out of modern
men. A man's body isn't like a woman's anyway.
A corset wouldn't hurt her unless it cut )ier square in
two."

" I think I understand," said Gladv^s, smiling. " A

man, an actor, a ntor perhaps, has died from the effects

of a tightly-laced corset. How very tragic ! "

152

SUICIDE.

15.3

"And you think it funny, too?" <asked the first
speaker, indignantly.

" No, it is a most solemn lesson, hut it served him

right:'

" So that is the way
you take it," returned
the other sarcastical-
ly. " You who are
too kind-hearted to
step on a worm, can
take as half a joke this
u-reat man's death,
l^on't you know he
was murdered ? "

" No," replied Gladys
very calmly," he was
not. He committed
suicide. There may
have been people
murdered by corsets,
but never a man. I
pity from my heart
the murdered ones,
but I am not so sure
about the suicides."

'Just like you,
Gladys Gray; excuse a
woman for anything,
but woe betide a man if he makes a mistake! A
woman dies from tight-lacing, you say she was mur-
dered ; a man dies from tight-lacing, you say he

THE DUDK OF THK SEVENTEENTH
(JENTURY.

mmmm

154 QUE£R QUESTI()!^S QCfAlXTLY ANSWERED.

coiniiiitted suicide. I would like to know where you
find the difference."

" It is easy enough to find, if only you will look for
a moment," returned Gladys, thoughtfully. " Woman
is the slave, the victim of a fashion which proves to be
the most galling bondage, man is not. You know
fashion is the enemy of nearly every country of the
world, whether civilized or uncivilized. But it is the
women, not the men, who usually suffer. In China
fashion says that a woman must have a little, deformed
foot, so have it she does, no matter how nmch suffer-
ing it may cause. I presume there is not one in this
room who has not pitied a hundred times the poor
little Chinese lady who is, nevertheless, better off
physically than the Canadian or American woman,
for fashion has said they must have little deformed
waists. It is sad, but fashion has said it, so when the
poor child reaches eleven or twelve years, a steel
bandage, made after the model fashion said it must be,
is placed around her. It hurts of course, for she has
known for a number of happy years what freedom and.
grace and ease of movement were. But by wearing
it at first on Sundays and holidays she becomes used
to the pressure. She might long for her freedom a
year or so more, but it is useless to wish it, for unless
her figure is taken while it is still yielding and flexible,
it could not be made to conform to fashion's model,
with its tiny waist and its square hips and shoulders.
Soon the tissues begin to waste away and lose their
strength and elasticity; and by and by she doesn't
mind the corset. She says she can sipieeze herself all

sriciDE.

155

slie likes and it doesn't luiit. In fact, she feels badly if
she takes her corset oft'. She has an idea women need
a support ; at any rate, she knows she does. She con-
tinues to wear it till, when she becomes a woman, she
is the most wonderfully deformed creature on this
^^reat, good earth. But she is too weak and sickly to
know that it is either f^ood or m-eat. She cannot o-et
beyond herself and her medicine bottle."

Some of the girls smiled, others laughed lightly,
and one said :

'But, Gladys, tliere is no use talking like that.
What (I'oiUd a woman look like if she didn't wear a
corset ? "

"All women don't wear them."

" Oh, I know that, and it is all very well for little
slender people. But what kind of figures would most
women have if they didn't wear corsets ? "

" Something like that," returned Gladys, pointing
towards Bodenhausen's Hojx', which hung on the wall
before them.

" Every one of you admire that picture," continued
Gladys. "That is as God, as nature, and as art
make a woman. There is none of that stift', hard,
ungraceful fashion-plate form about it. You know
' the highest art is to conceal art,' hence no artist dares
to make a woman other than nature has done. No
artist, in fact, could admire anything that wasn't
natural. All that isn't natural is deformed. Half of
the girls in this room are defoiined."

It was rather a bold stroke, but slie said it fear-
lessly as she looked around upon them.

i:4!i

».* ■.^*Mtt;,».»«i*t>.vj«ijA. ."

150 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAIXTLY ANSWERED.

;^]|ll

" Oh ! I don't wear my corsets tight I " exdaimed
l»alf a dozen at once. " J could never stand it. Why,
you could put your right arm down inside my corsets."

Gladys smile<l. " Of course we could. I never yet
met a girl who laced — but they all know of someone
else who does."

" (Jome now, Gladys, you are too severe," said one
of the girls approaching lier. You can see for your-
self that my corsets are not tight. I could draw them
up ever so much more."

"If they were so tight that you couldn't do that, I fear
you would meet with the same fate as the jDOor actor,"
replied Gladys laughing. " But this much is true, you
cannot wear a corset loose enough not to hurt you-
If it is tight enough to stay hooked at all, it is
tight enough to injure, for corsets are made out
of all proportion. Nature has said there shall be
six inches difference between the bust and the waist ;
but fashion says there must be ten. So accordingly
the corset is made."

" Well, you dont get me to take my corsets off, any-
way," put in another of the girls. " Why, when I
t.cke them off I am no shape at all. If I went without
them for a little while I would be the worst figure in
the world."

" No shape at all," repeated Gladys slowly. " I
presume you mean your waist might be as large as
that of the woman in the picture before us. Yet isn't
she lovely and graceful, despite the fact that she has
no shape at all — only, of course, the one nature gave
her. And ' the worst figure in the world,' I suppose,

HOPE.

i-i m t Mmmimni'' ii mt iJa»~i\.iliaumim.MiK»,iM. '

158 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

1 I
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is a fif^urc which lias wholly outf^rown its dc;t'onnity."

Tlie oirl lauolu'd with thu others in spite of herself.
" What you say sounds all very nice," she replied ;
"yet you know as well as I do that a woman dors
look better with ji corset on."

"No, I don't know anythinj:^ of the kind. A
woman with a small waist never did look pretty to
me. I cannot remendjer when I didn't feel sorry for
women who wore corsets. I can remember when I
was a very little girl watchino- small- waisted ladies
go along the street, and thinking how stifi' and tor-
tured they looked. Then I would look at mannna,
and compare her waist with those of the women in
the art galleries, and think how lovely mamma was,
just like a })icture."

" I think perhaps I can sympathize with corset-
wearers and corset-lovers, better than Gladys can,"
said a large, stout girl, stepping forward. Gladys
never wore a corset ; I did. She never admired a
corset form ; I once did witli all my heart. Gladys
was never injured by a corset; I was, and so is every
girl here who wears one.

" Mamma put corsets on me when I was only
eleven years old. I was a big, stout child, and she
said if she left them off me any longer I would soon
have no shape at all. I didn't object to it, for all the
women and girls I saw in the fashion-plates had long,
slender waists, and I supposed that was the figure I
ouglit to have. Nature had evidently made some
mistake in my case, which I must, of course, try to
correct.

SriCJDE.

loO

" At tii'st the corset was a torture to me. I would
wear it only to church and Sunday School. There
was many a sermon of which I never heard a word ;
and many a Sunday School lesson which I lon*^ed to
have close that I mi<^ht ^at home and take oft* that
fearful, stiff", torinentino- thin^. But by-and-bye I
betjjan to <^et used to it. It didn't hurt me so badly,
and I fancied I was ffettini; to be a little better
timire. I didn't then think that I was becomint;
deformed.

" One evening, about three years aj^o, I came home
from church with such a distressed feeling in my
stomach. When I undid my corset I gave a great
sigh of relief; and just at that moment the thought
came to me, ' Is it right for me to thus bind up my
body ? A Christian girl in an enlightened Christian
country to act like a heathen, not satisfied with the
form made by her Creator ! '

" I looked at my corsets for a few minutes, then
threw them across the room, saying : ' I wish I didn't
look so horrid without them, then I wouldn't wear
them ! I buttoned my clothes up without them, and
stood before the glass. I did look horrid, for my
bands were too small without my corset, and they
niade the flesh roll all around the waist.

" ' I nev'er could look like that,' I said, viewing my-
self. ' I would be ashamed to go on the street.'

" I undid them again. How loose and comfort-
able I felt ! I took down an old skirt with a loose
band, and put on a dressing-jacket, then went to
mamma's room.

jU)fc-....ii»ii«jf.«iK«lM^.<»ttfMiiiai>iii»w iit„i\^m^,iMMk,MiH^y-v»mi>. <ni mm

100 Ql-EKK QIESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

" 'Mamina,' I said, ' I liav^e a notion to quit wearing
corsot.s.'

" ' Quit wcarin;^' corsets ! ' she gasped.

"'Yes, J said, 'I don't believe it is right to wear
tlieni. JVIy body doesn't have half a chance to do its
work as God intended it should. Men don't squeeze
themselves all out of shape, and I can see no reason
why women should. I believe if I would take the
horrid things oft' T wouldn't have half so mucli head-
ache.'

" ' But, my child,' said mannna in an almost terri-
fied tone, \just think how you would look ! You are
so stout that I couldn't bear to see you on the street.
Everyone would make remarks about you.'

" ' What would they say ? '

" ' Oh, they would laugh at you.'

" ' Why ^ '

" ' For being so big and slovenly, of course,' said
mamma, getting cross.

" ' I'm big, I know, but I needn't be slouchy,' I
replied. ' Gladys Gray isn't slouchy, I'm sure, and she
never wore a corset in her life.'

" ' But Gladys Gray isn't you,' said mamma im-
patiently. ' She is small, you are large. You would
be a perfect sight ! You don't wear your corset tight,
anyway, and so long as you don't it can't injure you.'

" ' I was just reading the other day, mamma,' I
returned, ' that women don't know when their cloth-
ins: is tiii'ht, and when it is loose. I had never
thought of it before, but I believe it is a fact. The
constant pressure on the tissues of the trunk causes

SUICIDE.

161

[!•

•t

tlieni to so waste away tluit tliey lose in a lar*^c
degree their feelin<j^, and wliat seems loose to a woman
would be so tif^ht for a man as to be utterly unbenr-
able. I couldn't myself have at all endured clothini;-
as tight as I wear it now when I first began wearing
corsets. I believe my very bones are losing their
strength, or why would my back ache so when 1
leave my corsets ott* for a little while. Men don't
have to prop their bodies up to keep their back from
achino-, and I believe it is a sin for a woman to do it.'

" I paused for a moment. I looked straight at
mannna, then I said resolutely :

" ' I am going to do it. That corset goes off, and I
shall wear a health waist. I believe I'll get rid of
these old headaches then, for my stomach won't be
squeezed out of shape, and my food will have a chance
to digest.'

" I did as I said I would, and the corset never went
on again. But, girls, if any of you suffer as I did
when I threw aside my corset, I feel sorry for you.
My back and sides ached and ached till I thought I
could never endure it. But day after day the tissues
and muscles of the trunk reo^ained their streno^th and
elasticity, and now I never have a sign of backache
or headache. I wear m}- clothing all loose, and
suspended from the shoulders. I know I am per-
fectly neat, yet I have not a small waist — I don't
want it. I have learned since that nothing can be
pretty that is deformed. A small waist is stiff and
ungraceful, too."

"Good!" exclaimed Gladys, extending her hand.

i I-

.ifi'Tm

1()2 QUKKK t^l.KSTlONS (^UAINTI-V ANSWERED.

" I tliiiik wo kIuiH luivo to oi'^oiiii/o an ' Anti-Corsot
(Jliil),' and s(M> how many ^irls are ready to .stand I'or
henltli anil conii'ort."

At that moment the l)ell ran;^^ and the <;irlH dis-
])ei'sed. I liad ^one np to the school wltli tlie purpose
of seeinii' (Jhid\'s at I'ecess, hut liad lieard tlie 'drls'
discussion, and had not entere(l. I U'l't tlio buiidin;;'
witli a happy heart to know tliat there were at least
two witliin its walls who I'elt so stronj-Iv about that
«;reat cryin*;' evil, the corset. As J. walked away the
words of Dr. Stockliam came to my mind :

" 1 am a tem]K*ranee woman. No one can realize
mori! than I the devastation and ruin alcohol in its
many tempting' forms has broutj^ht to the human
family. Still I solemnly believe that in weakness
and deterioration of health the corset has more to
answer for than intoxicating drinks." And I won-
dered if she were not ritjjht.

The History, Mynti'i'ij, and Iitjai'les of the

Corset.

The origin of the corset is lost in remote anti(|uit3\
The figures of the early Egyptian women show
clearly an artificial shape of the waist produced by
some style of corset. A similar style of dress must
also have prevailed among the ancient Jewish
maidens, for Isaiah, in calling upon the women to put
away their personal adornments, says: 'Instead of a
girdle there shall be a rent, and instead of a stomacher
(corset) a girdle of sackcloth."

Homer also tells us of the cestus or girdle of Venus,

SL'K'IDK.

103

vvliich WHS ImhtowlmI ])y tlic lum^^lity .luiio witli n
view to iiicivusinjjj licr personal uttiactionH, that
Jupiter iiii^lit l)u a inure tnictaM*' and orderly lius-
Itand.

Coniin^ down to the later (in»es, we tind the corset

THE COKSKT IN TIIK SIXTKKNTH CENTl'RY.

w used in France and En^^land as early as the
twelfth century.

The most extensive and extreme use of the corset

occurred in he sixteenth century, durintij the rei^n of

Catherine de Medici of Fi-ance and Queen Elizaheth

of England. With Catherine de ]\redici a thirteen-

:;:i ^ ' ' ' ?5 !j a *** 'y ^*^^

'"M'ti^iMatiiK^WfWIMimiaMtitMMi

f'l

If:

164 QUEER (,)rESTr()\S QUAINTLY AXSWEIIED.

inch waist iiieasnri'inent was considered the standard
of fashion, wliile a tliiek waist was an abomination.
No lady could consider lier tigare of proper shape
unless she could span her waist with her two hands.
To produce this result a strong, rirjjid corset was worn

Steel Corset
worn in
Catherine's time.

EUVl'TIAN CORSET.

night and day until the waist was Ifi^ed down to the
required size. Then over this corset was placed the
steel apparatus shown in the illustration on this
page. This corset-cover reached from the hip to the
throat, and produced a rigid figure over which the
dress would fit with perfect smoothness.

sriciDE.

1()5

Duriii^^ the sixtecnfcli century corsets were lar<j[ely
made from a species of leather known as "bend,"
which was not unUke that used for shoe soles, and
measured nearly a ([iiarter of an inch in thickness.
One of the most popular corsets of the time was the
corset and stomacher shown in the accompanying
illustration.

About the time of the French Revolution .'i reaction
set in agviinst tight hicino-, ami for a time there was
a return to the early classical Ureek costume. This
style of dress prevailed, with various modifications,
until a})0ut 18 10, when corsets and tiiiht lacimr a^ain
returned with threefold fury. Buchan, a prominent
writer of this perioJ, says that it was by no means
uncommon to see "a mother lav her dauii-hter down
upon the carpet, and, placing her foot upon her back,
break half a dozen laces in tightening lier stays."

Distortion and feebleness are not beauty. A pro-
per proportion should exist between the size of the
waist and the breath of the shoulders and hips : and
if the waist is diminished below this proportion, it
suggests dispi-oportion -uid invfdidism ratlier than
grace and beauty.

It desti-oys natural beauty and creates an un-
pleasant and irritable temper. A tight-laced chest
and a good disposition cannot go together. The
human form has been molded hy nature, the best
shape is undoubtedly that which she has given it.
To endeavor to render it more elegant by artificial

J- ' ' • ■■;'. '.-'-ir;-^

I I ,
1

■ \\i

166 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

means is to chan(jje it : to make it much smaller Lelow
and nuicli lai-(jfer above is to destroy its beauty ; to
keep it cased up in a kind of domestic cuirass is not
only to deform it, but to expose the internal pails to
serious injury. Under such compression as is com-
monly practised by ladies, the development of the
bones, which are still tender, does not take place
conformably to the intention of nature, because nutri-
tion is necessarily stop]:)ed, and they consecjuently
become twisted and deformed.

Those who wear these appliances of ti«(ht-lacing
often complain that they cannot sit upright without
them — are sometimes, indeed, compelled to wear them
during all the twenty-four hours : a fact which proves
to what extent such articles weaken the n)uscles of
the trunk. The injury does not fall merely on the
internal structure of the body, biit also on its beauty,
and on the temper and feelings with which that
beauty is associated. Beauty is in reality but another
name for expression of countenance, which is the
index of sound health, intelligence, good feelings and
peace of mind. All are aware that uneasy feelings
existing habitually in the brea.st speedily exhibit
their signature on the countenance, and that bitter
thoughts or a bad temper spoil the human expression
of its comeliness and sfrace.

CHAPTER XVIII.

HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL,

I AM lonely to-iiiolit, girls, for Gladys has gone
away to school. So I want all of you who
know her to gather with me around the fireplace, and
before we make a light we shall have a little talk
together.

I love girls, every girl I ever knew, and I cannot
remember a time when I didn't have a longing to do
something for them. When I taught school I used to
fi-ecjuently declare that I would so love teaching if
only my pupils were all girls. When I took a Sun-
day School class it was always girls I cho.se, and thus
it has always been. Girls have attracted, have in-
terested me more than anything else. And I know I
feel more anxious about them than about any other
earthly thing.

"Why," does someone ask:* Well,! can tell you.
Because they have the most important positions to fill
in the world, and everything seems to be so depending
upon and revolving around them.

Everyone agrees that the home is the life of the
nation, and, as someone has said, " The mother is the
home. If the furniture is old we take thought to
renew it ; if the father is away he is incjuired after ;
but if the inotlier is gone the lioirw is gone. It is
like a train of cars without an enirine."

1U7

k'fff.

■^^ ^-T * !^:^^^^^''^ -

168 QCEEll QUESTIOXS QtJAlNTT.V ANSWERED.

! :5

|, .,

Can we then take too much thought for onr twirls ?
If only we can luive more nearl\^ perfect motliei's,
and more nearl}' perfect sisters, will we not inevitably
have more nearly perfect fathers and brothers, which
means for us a more nearly perfect world ^

1 believe anythin<,^ wliich beoins to approach per-
fection is in some sense beautiful. Then of course
our girls nmst be l)eautiful. Every girl wants to be
beautiful. It is a ]^art of her nature to love every-
thing that is beautiful. But there are so man}', oil,
so many mistaken ideas of what beauty is. Now,
to be beautiful is not necessarily to be handsome.
Many girls who have perfect and handsome features
are very far from beautiful. Then there are others
whose features are very plain yet we love to look at
tliem. Why^ Because they appear lovel}^ to us;
they are in some sense beautiful or we would take no
pleasure in gazing at them.

Beauty — real beauty, depends upon three things.
They are good health, good temper, and good manners.

I place good health first, for it is the most important.
Few there are indeed who can maintain a good tem-
per with poor health. Good mannei"s come last, for
they are the natural outcome of good health, and good
temper. Vou cannot imagine one with perfect health
and a sweet disposition being rude or ilhnannered.
They might not know all the latest rules of eti(piette,
but they would at least be courteous.

I am going to tell you first how to procure and
how to retain good health. And I want every one
of you dear girls, not only to listen to what I say but

ilOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL.

16d

to begin at once to practise it. If only you will do
so every one of you may become beautiful.

If we hope to <;-ain the beauty which' comes from
perfect health we must be kind to our bodies. No
physical frame can be perfect and healthy with the
treatment which most of them receive.

The first important and necessary step is to clothe
the body properly. This means a great deal.

1. The clothing must be so loosely adjusted to the
body as to give perfect freedom of every part.

2. It must keep all parts of the l)ody ecjually warm.
Very often the feet, legs, upper part of the chest and
arms are cold, while the trunk of the body is uncom-
fortably warm.

8. It must be so adjusted to the body as to be
carried with the least possible efibrt.

If the clothing answers these conditions the body
will be properly clothed and very much of the dis-
comfort which women endure will be avoided.

Most of you here this evening have never had a
corset on, but some of you have, a id I cannot tell you
how sorry I am. I was talking the other day to a
slender little girl who said she was only twelve years
old.

"Then," I said, "you have never worn a corset."

She looked so surprised, and almost ott'ended as she
replied :

" Oh, my, yes, I have worn them for two years. I
could not go without them "

" You poor, dear child I " I exclaimed, " they must
have injured you very much, indeed, if even now you
feel that you cannot go without them."

'.h'^

>a HiM »l l ll «Mlll l

if<

170 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

You girls have all heard the corset talked against,
but I am going to tell you just how it effects the
body, and see ii' you think it a fit thing to wear.

" The slioeniakci' has niiuh,' us a nation of mincL-rs and li<)l)l)lei's ;
the coi'set-maker has nit otl' millions of cuhic feet of pure air from
lungs that heg in vain for it ; and the milliner has covered or
iineovered scores of ])rctt_y heads with various sorts of 'top knots '
and harleiiuin nightmaies that have made us look like lunatics on
parade." — Koradint Litters.

In the first place it is a hard, heavy pressure placed
over the delicate tissues of your body. This constant

lie

{

s ;

111

i)r

d
it

HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL.

171

pressure day by day weakens and deadens them, tlie
same as a constant pressure upon an}'' part of the
hody destroys its power. Tlien there are two of
tliose cruel, unyielding steels placed down the front
over the diaphragm, one of the most important muscles
in breathing, over the stomach which is thus crowded
out of shape and position, whether it is empty or has
just been loaded with a fresh supply of food to churn
up for the body, it is all the same, it has only that
certain little space to work in, and thus it is often
unable to do its work properly, and as a result there
is indigestion and sick headache. But instead of
taking oft' the cruel pressure and giving the poor strug-
gling little organ a chance, it is further abused by
having poured into it some vile drug. Jt groans and
groans, but it is powerless to do more.

Around the lower part of the lungs goes the relent-
less bandage, so that they are never tilled with air to
their depths, and thus the blood does not become
purified by meeting with the oxygen in the air. And
the faithful little heart, which never rests one moment
from our birth till our death, is constantly having
backed up into it loads of impure blood. This not only
weakens the heart, but in this poisonous state it is
pumped out into the body again. Now, blood cannot
properly feed and build up the ])ody unless it has first
been filled with oxygen. So you see every part of
the body sufiers from this constriction of the lungs.
Sometimes the blood becomes so filled with poison
that it causes congestion of the brain, or even in-
sanity. Around the liver it goes, sometimes dragging

If,

MMMl

172 QUfiER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

it down below the ribs, causing fearful ])!uns jukI
aelies and often Fearful complexions, too. Ai-ound
and over the bowels it ^^oes pressin<^ and crowdint^
not only them, but tlie delicate female orpins inside,
till many a ^irl and woman feels so dra^oed down

.::!

:.!

f "

\ ;

THK NATl-RAL WAIST.

I'HK KKI"i;<'TS 01' FiACINt!.

and miserable that she can hardly <j:et around at all —
yet she clings to her corset.

The ribs, too, receive their share of the sutterini;".
The first few ribs are fastened to the stei'iunn or
breast-bone, and are firm and hard. Hut the lower
ribs are connected with the sternum by means of lono-
yielding cartilages. These soft cartilages expand
with every breath. You will see this if you place
your hands at your sides, when the corset is off', and
breathe. It is this constant movement which keeps

How TO BE BEAUTIFUL.

173

this part of tlio ribs sol't and vicldiiiii'. Hut wlicii tlu^
corset i.s drawn in any way tightly around tiie body
this movement is impossible. Ji' tlic corset is tlius
worn tightly for a long number of years the soft
cartilages })ecome hard and unyielding like the rest
of the ribs. When that happens one can never
breathe properly again.

I want you to take the trouble, too, to observe that
little girls and little boys breathe just the same, the
diaphram moving, and the ilexible ribs expanding
with every breath, while there is no struggle to ex-
pand the hard U[)per pai"t of the chest. Then notice
how a girl or woman breathes who has on a tight
corset. There is a constant struggle from the top of
the chest, and every now and then there is a short,
jerky breath, a half sigh. It is caused by the frantic
stru(''i>"le made bv the chokina' luni"' to force a little
air to its depths.

My dear girls, isn't it dreadful that women will so
abuse the lovely, perfect body which CJod has given
them ?

Not only do women wear tight corsets, ])ut also
tio'ht shoes and tif^ht dresses. Doesn't it seem sillv
of us to a"ive all the comfortable u'arments to the men
and for ourselves wear nothiuij; that does not in some
way distress us { Sometimes a physiciuii prescribes
walking for some lady patient who sutlers from head-
ache and nerve troubles. She accordingly prepares
for her Avalk. A tight heavy corset is covered with
an ei^ually tight and uncomfortable dress, a high,
tight collar, a long, heavy skirt, tight gloves, and a

«i.-Mt<^ .mOi* -

'■*nii--«i>w.-j««iw<iiL.ri'i<Ji»n i<Min<B^-i

(

174 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

pair of ti<^ht, thin-soled .sliocs completes lier outfit of
torture. She walks a bit, perhaps she makes a call
or two, then she comes home nervous and fai^^^ed out,
and witli a ragin*^ headache. Her feet ache, and her
back aches, and she throws her.self on the bed and
decides she isn't strono- enou«^h to do any walkin^^
The doctor will have to give her some more powerful
medicine.

Now, girls, I have told you what nut to wear. 1
shall now tell you what io wear.

In the first place, a health waist must take the place
of a corset. But let it be a health waist. There are
ip.any kinds of so-called health waists which are little
better than a corset, about the only difference being
that there is a strap over the shoulder. A health
waist is one which allows the natural action of all the
internal oroans. A waist with a steel down the front
under the buttons, and a lace up the back, so one can
' tighten them up a bit,' if she chooses, is not a health
waist— it is a delusion. A liealth waist must be
merely buttoned down the front. This leaves the
diaphram, the stomach, and the bowels free from pres-
sure. It must be closed in the back, not luced. There
must be elastic down each side to give more perfect
freedom to every movement of the i-ibs in breathing.
There must be a shoulder-strap, and it is best to have
a short piece of elastic in the centre of the strap, as
it leaves the shoulder freer. There must be two
buttons front and back, at the waist line, and every
underskirt and dress skirt must be buttoned on them.
This takes all the weight from the waist and the

HOW TO HE BKATTIFITL,

1 "• "

delicate female oi'oans below, thus saving jrirls from
untold .sutterin<^. When shirt-waistM are worn, button-
holes nuist be made in them at the waist-line, so that
the outside skirt can also be buttoned on to the health
waist. One other thin*;" very important to remember
is that (ill haiu/s ntUHt he loose. If they are drawn
one-(iuarter inch smaller than your actual size they
will make you uncomfortaljle, and will also have a
tendency to make the flesh roll at the waist.

Take thought for your underclothing, too. In
winter it should bo either woolen or fleece-lined
cotton. Don't try to 'toughen' yourself to summer
underwear. The shirt sleeves must be long, and the
drawers must reach to the ankle. A great many chil-
dren wear drawers reaching only to the knees, and in
consequence suffer much with leg- ache. Next put on
a warm woolen stocking reaching above the knee, and
on the foot a loose ,shoe with a good heai'i/ sole.

You don't wear tight shoes, of course, but just let
me ask you a question : Is your foot straight and
smooth and soft and even, just like a baby's ; or are
the toes humped up, with corns on the poor sore
joints ? If it is soft and even, as it ought to be, very
well ; but if not, may I simply suggest, why not ?
Won't you, my dear girls, forever put aside the
heathenish idea that a woman ought to have a little
foot ? A woman's foot should be just as nature has
made it whether that be large or small. Buy a shoe
with a sole as wide as your foot, and you will be sur-
prised to see how much comfort you get out of it. A
shoe should never need any breaking in. If it does,

'W5

<;i.,41<«...<,(.vvJk BX t K ^ k

I! ' I

170 (^MKiiK i^rivSTioN's grAiN'TLV A\s\\'i:i{i:i).

it is 1)V far too tijji'lit. Soiiio mrl.s Kcoin afraid that
unless they j^et siioes very ti;L;lit at Hrst tlioy will after-
ward l)t' shapeless and untidy, Imt it is a niistak*'. If
h1»()os are loose at Hrst thei'e is not that strain upon
them as when ti^ht, and thev will retain their first
shape till nearly worn out. Button hoots should
always he loose enough around tin* aidvle to hutton
with the tinners, and laced shoes corresp(jndin<;ly
loose.

Theiv is one; inii)ortaut point in vvinter dress which
every ^^irl should <;-ive heed to. A very lari^e majority
of peoph' are veiy susce])tihle to coughs and colds, and
chest and throat ati'ecti(His. I feel confident that a
irreat <leal more than half of our throat and chest
trouhles mi;4ht he avoided if at the first cold weather
in the fall a llannel chest })rotector, front and back,
were ])ut on. If it cannot be worn next to one, put it
just outside the shirt. It should be cut something- of*
a V-shape, and made seven or ei<;ht inches lon^.
Make it to tit around the neck and button over one
shoulder. This protects that up])er part of the chest
whicli usually has such a thin covering over it.

^; i

('IIAPTKU \IX,

A I'UETTV (;(^MI'LKXI(^^^

No one huH ever yvt lieard of a <(irl wlio did not
want a pretty conjplexion and bright eyes.
Sliall I tell you the .secret, <;irls, by which they are
o))tained i ])on't tliink, of course, that all <,drlH may
have e(|ually pretty coniplexions, or the same com-
plexion. But all may free their faces from liver-spots
and pimples and black-heads and wrinkle.s. All may
have a healthy, fresh complexion, whether they be
(hirk or fair.

I take for granted, of course, that you have; followed
my directi(jns about the clothing, for few, indeed, can
can hope to have a pretty complexion uidess dre.ssed
properly.

Our next care must be for our diet. We must have
proper food if we would be free from doctors and
drugs.

Why do we oat ? Is it simply because food is
pleasing to the taste ^ Many people act as if that
were the case. Yet w^e all really know differently.
The body is a marvellous machine, which is constantly
undergoing waste and repair. With every breath we
draw, every word, every movement, however slight,
the body has undergone a certain amount of wasting
or wearing out. In order to meet this constant drain

177

178 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAIXTLY ANSWERED.

the system is continually repairing. Where does it
^et its material for this work ? From the food we
eat. The only object in eating is to give the body
material with which to build up again the parts
which are contlnuallv Vu'ing worn out, tern down and
cast away. How very important, then, that we should
give our bodies the very best food possible, in order
that they may become strong and healthy and beauti-
ful.

By best foods we do not mean the rich dainties, the
liot peppers, spices, and pickles which we have taught
our stomachs to long f'oi'. By best foods we mean
those which are not irritating to the tender lining of
the stomach, which are the most nourishing, aiid which
develop in the stomach the fewest germs.

Irritating foods cannot be spoken too strongly
against. The congestion and fever produced by them
often creates great thirst, and men and boys will thus
be led to drink who might otherwise never have
touched alcoholic stimulants. And even if it does
not lead to drunkenness it keeps the stomach in such
a feverish state that an artificial appetite is created,
and persons long for more food than the system really
requires, and there is a liking for spicy, pungent food,
and drinks, which, in a healthy condition of the
stomach would be very distasteful. Give up forever
your mustard, pepper, pepper-sauce, cloves, curry-
powder and pickh i. Nearly all pickles are hard,
uncooked, unripe, indigestible articles, which are only
a l)urden of grief to the poor stomach.

If you doubt that such things are irritating apply

{

'* The tirst iiidiijatioii tliat a wonmn's iiiiml an<l soul are cxpaiidinu

is when she lays aside jier corset." — Koradine Letters,
12

{

■

180 (^UEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

a mustard p]j\st(3r to some purt of your body, or place
pepper, curry-powder, or cloves o\-er a raw surface,
and see how irritating it is. Then think of putting
them upon the tender, delicate lining of the stomach,
and decide whether or not you can have perfect
digestion and a clear skin.

Now, my dear girls, don't say you like such things,
you cntve them in fact ; and you cannot see wh}' you
would vvant them so much if they were not good for
you. Remember that your appetite for them did not
alwa^'s exist. It was created. Little children never
like peppers and spices: they have to learn to like
them. They see others use them, and thus little by
little they learn to like them, the same as a boy
learns to love his tobacco, even though it did make
him very sick at first. The more you desire such
foods the more need is there of your giving them up,
for it proves what a very feverish condition your
stomach is in. It recjuires moral courage to give
them up, the same kind of moral courage it re(iuires
to give up alcoholic drinks, when once the appetite
has been aci^uired. Do you pity or censure the
drunkard who vainly tries to reform ;* Are you no
strongei- than he ? Intemperance is not merely
drinking alcohol, but it is indulging in anything
which makes me less strong and perfect, either
ph^'sically or spiritually. Throw aside your fiery
sauces and pickles, my dear, and you will be repaid
a hundred-fold. Use very little meat and pastry ;
eat freely of fruits, all kinds of grains, nuts, and
vegetables, and 3'ou will be better physically and
morally.

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A PRETTY COMPLEX TOX.

181

A great nuiiiy girls, juid nearly all women, do not
get exercise enough in the o[)cn air. A great deal of
tlie nervousness and headache from wliich so many
sutler might be entirely cured by plenty of fresh air.
Exercise is necessary to perfect health. It is lieav-
en's command. Housework brings into play every
muscle of the body, and would be most excellent
exercise if only the rooms in which it is done were
not so often tilled with foul air, laden with tobacco
fumes, and odors from former dinners, and if it were
not attended with numberless little irritating; circum-
stances which increase headache and nervousness.
Bi ' p:-nty of rest and sleep, and undisturbing, cheer-
ful walks in the life-giving open-air, will adjust many
difficulties. Anv li'irl ouo-]it to be able to walk five
miles without feeling tired, or, at least, from wliich a
fifteen mimites rest will thoroughly refresh her.
Don't you believe it, girls ( I am a great deal older
than any of you and I can easily walk ten miles.

Perhaps there is nothing helps more towards a
clear complexion than frecjuent bathing. The skin is
one of the great blood -purifiers, and in order for it to
do its work properly it must be kept perfectly clean.
A daily bath is best, but, by all means, take one at
least twice a week. Just before retirinij: seems a
very convenient time. Use warm water as it
cleanses the skin much better than cold water does.

And now, girls, there is one very important point
which 1 wish to impress upon you. It is with regard
to caring for yourselves at the monthly period.
Some of you remember what I have already said

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182 gi'EEIl QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANS\VEJ{E1).

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about it. A girl's whole health and beauty, and to a
(^reat extent her happiness, are depending upon that
function. If, from childhood, you luive been tlior-
ou^hly hygienic with regard to dress, diet, exercise
and bathino;, the monthly How will doubtless bo
regular, natural, and painless. But if you have been
careless about vour liealth vou mav sutler dreadfullv^
at each period ; or you may have, during tlic inonth,
a thick, wliitish diseliarge, commoidy called ' whites."
Many girls suffer much from this most weakening
disease. It makes one sallow and faded looking; the
hearlr flutters on the slightest exertion, and one's life
becomes a burden. These troubles are caused by the
swollen, feverisli, congested condition of the uterine
or female ori>:ans. In order to i*:et those organs
acting naturally :

1. You miii^i dress properly, as I have directed.

2. You miixt give up tea, coffee, condiments, pies,
and pork. Use little meat of any kind, but use
plenty of nuts, fruits, grains, and vegetables.

3. Bathe frequently in warm water ; take plenty of
out-door exercise, but never exhaust youi-self.

4. At the period go to bed, atid si ay there till you
are free from pain, and can get up without feeling
weak and trenddy.

5. During the month, just before going to bed each
night sit for ten minutes over a chamber of stenming
wormwood. If the wormwood cannot be gotten, sit
over steaming water. This will reduce the swoolen,
feverish condition.

0, Never take a cold drink durinir the flow. The

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A PRETTY COMPLEXION.

183

sr .nacli is often feveiisli, and tlie thirst almost un-
endui-able. If su(!h is the case, eat the sour lemon, or
drink hot lemonade with very little suirar in it.

7. Be careful to keep the bowels open at all times.
Constipation very often attends female troubles.
Eating- a few figs every night Just before retiring will
often regulate the bowels.

One parting woi'd. Whether you have ever been
sick or not, keep quiet at your periods. Exertion
then is the cause of untold sufierJng. No matter
what the social demand is, meet it with that unsur-
mountable plea : " 'Jliis is my time for rest. Nature
demands it: God has ordained it, (UkJ I din going to
take it."

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CHAPTER XX.

I?EA^'TY^

I I
I

I HAVE h.'ul two little talks witli you about good
health, wliich is beauty of body. And now I
sliall have a Httle talk with you about i;ood temper
or disposition, whicli is l>eauty of eliaracter ; and good
manners, which is beauty of action.

To be truly beautiful botli body and spirit must be
in harmony with God's laws. Tlie hiw of spiritual
life is love. Love then, my girls, if you arc going to
be ])erfect spiritually, if you are going to l)e beautiful
and sweet-tempered in the home. It is said of Frances
E. Willard that nothing ever rutHed her temper or
provoked her to a frown. She seemed to be love
itself. And the more nearly we become love itself
the more beautiful we shall be. Do you wish to be
loved ? Do you wish to be admired ? Then love.
Have you ever looked at certain girls and said half
enviously, " Everybody loves them. 1 wisli I were
just like them." Let me tell you a little truth, girls.
Whenever you find a person whom everybody loves,
you find a person who has first loved others. His or
her love has cone out and iz'athered in this o-oodwill.
Light is another name for love. God is light, and
God is love. Vou know how the sun can make
mvriads of violets and roses and lilies turn their

184

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Ti v n ww mw ' mm m' vn flF' Wf ' V m tr rf^

P.EAUTV

185

Kinilin^- i'jiec's t()w;ii-(ls it. It drew tlicin towards it
witli its H;j;'lit, witii its ]()V(3 ; and so docs everyone
who is loved or admired. II' others seem to nei»;lect
or ill-treat you, remember that you have not loved
them,

" What is love : how shall I love ? " do you ask i
" (iod is love," so from Him must come your love,
there is no other source. The more nearly we ap-
proach Him the more truly shall we love. Do you
peevishly reply that you do love just as much as
other people you know, yet you don t receive the
kindness and consideration you wish ^ My dear, you
would never think that it' you were lovinc^ rightly,
for love " esteems others better than himself." "Love
sulfereth louir, and is kind: love envieth not: love
vaunteth not itself, is not putted up, does not behave
itself unseendy, seeketh not its own, is not provoked,
taketh not account of evil," Is that the way you
have loved, my dear ? If not, try it. That is God's
way, and His way is always the perfect way.

But no one can lio})e to love in that way without
the help of the Great Author of love. Hence if we
are to be beautiful in character we must love God
and allow Him to do His work of love in our hearts.

I have seen many <;irls — boys too, who were so
irritable and cross that they would make a whole
family unhappy. When you remember that every
passinf^ thought and feeling of our heart leaves its
impress on our lives, to be in some way portrayed in
our face, can any hope to be lovely when unlovely
thoughts and words are continually a part of her ;'

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186 QL'EER QTTESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

Be buautii'ul in the lioiiui. jMake it cheerful by
your love, by your kind words and actions, lie ever
willinf( to liclp witli your strong youno- arni.s the
tired mother. Often mothers are made fretful and
cross because dausiliters are so thouMitless. Work is
good for anyone and man}' hours are spent in idleness
which might uiucli Ijetter be spent in many little
helpful ways. Don't be afraid of work, yet don't do
any heavy lifting. Many girls lift heavy loads and
suffer for yeirs afterward. The delicate female
organs will not endure heavy lifting, and it need
never be done. Wait till there is some one to help
you, or divide the load, even though it take you ten
times as long, it will save you time in the long
run.

Do not read silly novels. I think if there is one
thing more than another which makes girls fretful,
dissatisfied and ill-tempered it is novel reading.
Cheap nuigazine stories are fit for nothing but fire
kindling. Never read a novel at all unless it is by
one of the very best and most approved authors.
Novel reading as a whole cannot be too highly
censured. It hardens the heart, gives one false ideas
of life, and often spoils a life which might otherwise
have been beautiful. If you read a book, and can
lay it down without feeling " 1 am better for having
read that book," it were far better that you had never
read it. Books, the same as companions, all have their
influence over us. ])o I wish to be infiuenced for
good or for bad ? It must be one or the other. I am
continually becoming more lovely- or unlovely in

BEAITV.

187

character, for every passinj^ lumr leavcH Home inipresH
upon my lii'e. Oh, dear girls, choose your books care-
fully as you <lo your companions.

Do you say, " What shall I read ?" It is hard to
lay down any cast-iron rules, for wliat one nature
re([uires another does not. A companion wlio suitol
your disposition and made you happy might not be
one whom I would choose at all. But this much I
can say, and say strongly, do not read stories which
are filled with sickening accounts of passionate love.
That is not love, and we don't want it in either life
or fiction. The world contains thousands of good
books, more than you can read in a life-time ; do not
waste your time on trash. Read the Bible : learn to
love it. It is a glorious book and will transform your
life. Wholesome food makes a healthy body, and
wholesome reading makes a healthy mind.

Now comes our last requisite for beauty — Good
manners.

If one had good health and good temper, I think we
need never worry about her manners. Drummond
says that courtesy is only " love in trifles," love in the
little acts of life. One whose every action is con-
trolled by love isn't going to make an}' very serious
blunders, for tlie refinement and beauty of her soul
will make her refined and gentle in manner.

There are, however, a few little connnon points of
etiquette which every young person should remember.

For one thing you should early learn to give and
receive introductions without any hesitation or
awdcwardness. Introductions should always be as

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IS.S QrKKIl (^UESTFOXS (^UAIXTLV ANSWERED.

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sijiiplc !is ])(),ssil»l('. In iiiti'oducino- u cliiM to a I'ldy,
iiu'iitioii the lady's iiaiiu^ first, as " ,\rrs. Forbes, tliis is
my little friend, Carrie J)Mvis." In introducin;^' ;;irls
and l)ov« the iiirl's name should al\v;ivs be mentionetl
iirst, whether she })e (jldei- oi* yonn^ei'. If they have
heard of each other it is enou;;h to say, " Katie, this
is Howard," Otlun-wise say simply " Katie Gray,
Howard Smith. '

Do not allow boys to take your arm in walkin*^.
It is too familiar. Oirls are rarely so delicate as to
need such support.

Never talk or laugh iou<lly on the street or in
public places. It is very rude.

J)on't use slangy words or phrases. It is vulgar.
One hears very nuich of it, yet avoid it however diffi-
cult it may be.

Never be rude with a young companion in order to
punish her for some previous offence. It is cruel.
Your own wound should teach you that. One who
is striving to be perfect in love learns to forgive.

])o not be absent-minded on the street so that you
fail to notice a friend. It often causes bitter feelings.

Alwfiys be polite and pleasant with your boy
friends, and thank them for any kindness shown or
any service rendered. Some girls seem to think that
bov^s were made to wait on them and that it isn't
necessary to even say "thank 3'ou."

Always try to be neatly and prettily dressed. I
believe most heartily in dress reform, but I do not
believe in getting together the most unlovely costume
imaginable. To my mind anything that begins to

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HE A FT V.

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approach perfection Jii list Ix' lieautil'ul. I l)elieve, too,
tliat when the Creator luul Hnishcd His work tliere
was not an unlovely thin<^^ in it, i'roin the loftiest
mountain to the tiniest flower or Made of f^rass. CJod
loves the beautiful; evervthinij he makes is beautiful.
Everything "^ly hi this world is the result of man's
failing to live in harmony with the Creator's laws.
He made the human form beautiful, and should we
not expect him to do so ? It was his last and finest
work of creation, and it was the temple in which He
himself was to be manifested in the world, tlie earthly
tabernacle for His Spii'it. That beautiful human form
which the Greeks loved so well to preserve and per-
fect, and drape in costumes which have ever since
stood unrivalled for their sense and grace and beauty,
that form, every line of which to them had a spiritual
meaning, has, alas 1 become so degenerate, that instead
of its natural suppleness and symmetry and grace,
there is stitiness and deformity : instead of delicate
curves there are sharp angles. And twice alas ! we find
not only this unlovely, degenerate bod}', but a taste
so degenerate that it is really admired. But girls and
boys, men and women, let us all awaken to the truth
that the artistic and the healthful are so nearly
related that it is cruel to try to separate them ! The
genuinely artistic dress is the healthful dre.ss ever and
always; it cannot be otherwise. But it is possible,
of course, to make a healthful dress that is not artis-
tic. Let us not do that. While I would not have
you care only for dress, yet care enough about it to
try to make yourself some little in harmony with the

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The heautifiil is always the free.

BEAUTY.

191

l)L'a»itiful in nature. And remember that the beautiful
Is always the free, the easy, the graceful, the i\aturaL

Always keep your nails clean, but clean them in
your private room, not before other.s.

Many children, thouo^h often shown, seem to forget
just how to open and close a letter. Here is a form
wi»ich you can use for reference. Always put the
heading on the first line of your paper, not up in the
top corner somewhere. Leave a narrow margin when
you write the salutation, then begin all lines, except
the tirst line of each new paragraph, even with this.
The first word of the letter should begin about under
the .second word of the salutation. This is the position,
too, for the first word of each new paragraph. Never
run a letter all along into one paragraph. Diflferent
subjects need different paragraphs, as shown below.
Close vour letters with some such words as, Yours
sincerely ; Yours truly ; Yours ever ; As ever, yours ;
or just. Yours.

Leamincton, May 10th, 1899.
^fy Dear Annie :

Papa went away this morning and mamma and
I feel very lonesome. I wish so much that you could
come and visit us now, as the time would not seem so
long if you were here.

Little Willie Green died yesterday. Poor little
fellow, he was sick such a long, long time and suf-
fered so much, but he never became impatient or
cross.

Our peach trees are all in bloom now. I can't
tell you how pretty the orchard looks. I think I

102 QrEKK (.H'ESTIOXS (^rAIXTI.V ANSWERED.

! ,

sliould dislike \ery iimcli to live in the city and be
lioused u]) all this beautiful sprin^-tiine.

Let me hear i'roiii you soon, dear Annie, and
come to visit us if yon can.

Vours as ever,

Grace.

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Foi'iit uf till / II I'ifdf ion for a Yticht'nuj Party.

Tuesday mornin<^, Aug. 21st, 1899.
Dear Bella :

We are i^oiui"- on a litth^ Nachtinij: excursion to

Walpole Island to-morrow afternoon. Will you not

make one of the l)arty '. We shall leave Bradley's

dock at two o'clock. Do come.

Vours art'ectionately,

LlLME.

Form of Letter Aeeonipdin/i iig a Pirsenf.

London, Nov. 4th, 1809.
My Dear Kthel :

Many happy returns of the day. Please accept

this little token of my love and best wishes.

J'^ver your friend,

Hilda.

Thmiks for the ^^onie.

London, Nov. 4th, 1899.
My Dear Hilda:

How kind of you to i-iniember me on my birth-
day ! r^et me thank you for the handsome rose-bowl

you sent me.

Yours lovingly,

Ethel.

BEAUTY.

193

I be
and

to
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From a Young IakIi/ ti> a (layf/ma,,, As/any a
Ih'Cimimcndof'un}.

JJrantfonl, Ont., Nov. 2n(l, 1809.
Kevereiul and Dear Sir:

Having- seen an advertisement for a sehool-iiu's-
tress in tlie Dulhj M,ril^ I l,ave been recommended to
offer myself as a candidate. Will you kindly favor
me with a testimonial as to my character, ability, and
conduct while at Toronto Normal School ^ Should
you C(Hisider ihat I am titted for the position, you
would confer a irreat favor on me if you would interest
yourself in my behalf.

I remain, Reverend Sir,
Your most obedient and humble servant,

Laura B. Nichols.

Apph/iiKj for a Posifio,, as a Tcarlwr of Music.

,, , Toronto, Ont., Oct. 25th, 1899.

Madam :

Seeinc? your advertisement in The Glohi' of to-
day, I write to offer my services as a teacher of music
in your familv.

I am a oraduate of the Peabody Institute, of
Baltimore, where I was thoroughly instructed in
instrumental and vocal nnisic.

I refer, by permission, to Mrs. A. J. Davis. 1922
Walnut Street; Mrs. Fraidslin Hill, 2021 Sprinir
Garden Street; and ]\[rs. William Murray, 1819
Spruce Street: in whose families I liave given lessons.

Hoping that you may see fit to employ me, I am,
Very respectfully yours,

Nellie Reynolds.

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104 gUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

Apply ivg fur a Situation f/.s (i Cook.

Toronto, Ont., Nov. 14th. 1899.
Madani :

Havin;^ st'cn your atlvertiseiuent for a cook in

t()-(lay's Tchynnti, 1 bog to ofi'er myself for your place.

I an) a tlion^ugh cook. I can make clear Houp^,

entrees, jellies, and all kinds of made dishes, lean

hake, and am also used to a dairy. M^^ waives are i?4

per week, and I can give good reference from my

last place, in which I lived for two years. I am

thirty-three years of age.

I remain, Madam,

Yours very respectfully,

Mary Mooney.

Rcrommrndiiifj a School Tcuchev.

Montreal, Que., Oct. 10th, 1899.

Col. Geo. H. Uaight,

President Board of Trustees, etc.

Dear Sir : I take pleasure in recommending to
3'our favorable consideration the application of Miss
Hannah Alexander for the position of teacher in the
public school at Weymouth.

Miss Alexander is a graduate of the Davidson
Seminar}', and for the past 3'ear has taught a school in
this place. My children have been among her pupils,
and their progress lias been entirely satisfactory to
me.

Miss Alexander is a strict disciplinarian, an
excellent teacher, and is thoroughly competent to
conduct the school for which she applies.

BEAUTY.

195

TrustiiifT that you may see fit to bestow upon
her the appointment she seeks, I am,

Yours very respectfully,

Alice Miller.

A Busi))rss Introduction.

^ „, ^ St. Johns, N.B., Nov. 3rd, 1899.

J. v\ . Brown,

Windsor, Ont.
My J)ear Sir: This will introduce to you Mr.
William Channin^, of this city, who visits Windsor
on a matter of business, which he will explain to you
in person. You can rely on his statements, as he is a
gentleman of high character, and should you be able
to render him any assistance, it would be greatly
appreciated by

Yours truly,

Haight Larabee.

Introducivg One Lady to Another.

Brandon, Man., Oct. Ist, 1899.
Dear Mary :

Allow me to introduce to you my ever-dear

friend, Miss Nellie Reynolds, the bearer of this letter.

You have heard me speak of her so often that you will

knowat once who she is. As I am sure you will be

mutually pleased with each other, I have asked her

to inform you of her presence in your city. Any

attention you may show her will be highly appreci-
ated by

Yours affectionately,

^^ Lizzie Eicher.

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19() gL'EEll grKSTIONS (JL'AINTI.V ANSWHUKI).

To '/ Litdij, Apol<Hjizin<i for a Broken A'liijtn/i'iiwiif.

Cliatliam, Ont., Nov. 2!)th, LSili).

My Dear Miss Lee :

Permit me to explain my I'ailure to keep my
appointment witli you this evening. J was on my
way to your house, with tlie assurance of a pleasant
evening, when unfortunately I was very unexpectedly
called from home on very important business.

1 reyjivt my disappointment, hut hope that the
future may afford us many pleasant meetings.
Sincerely your friend,

luviN(; Goodrich.

Form of on Kxciixe for a Pupil.

Thursday IMorning, April 4th.
Mr. Bunnel :

You will please excuse William for non-attend-
ance at school yesterday, as 1 was compelled to keejJ
him at home to attend to a matter of business.

Mrs. a. Smith.

Con<jrafi(/(ifi)}g a Friend Upon Hix Marriage.

Victoria, B.C , Oct. 18th, 1899.
My Dear Everett :

I have to-day received the invitation to your
wedding", and as I cannot be present at that happy
event to otter my congratulations in person, I write.

I am heartily glad you are going to be married,
and congratulate you upon the wisdom of your choice.

HKATTV.

1!)7

You have won a noblo a.s well as a beautiful woman,
and one wliose Iovm; will make you a happy man to
your life's end. May (Jod <;raiit that troul)le may not
come near you, but should it be your lot you will
Iiave a wife to whom you ean look with confidence
for comfort, and whose <rood sense and devotion to
you will be your sure and unfailin<^r support.

That you may both be very happy, and that
your happiness may increase with your years, is the
prayer of Your Friend,

Fk.wk Howard.

tnvitathlxs.

Invitation to Sixnid thr J'Jcmin;/.

Mrs. E. C. Wicks requests the pleasure of Mr.
and Mrs. J. L. Nichols' company on Thursday Even-
mtr, June loth, at six o'clock.

Tea at (h'M).

Paris, Ont.

Acccptancp.

Mr. and Mrs. J. L. Nichols have much pleasure in
accepting Mrs. Wicks' kind invitation for Thursday
Evening, June 15th.

Young Pmplfs Invitation.

Mr. Brown solicits the honor of attendini»- .Aliss
Williams to the lecture on Thursday evening, March
23rd.

Tuesday, March 21st.
The bearer will wait for an answer.

1!)8 (^lEKR (irp:STI<)XS gl'AINTLV ANSWKllKD.

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Arrrjifnvcr,

Miss WillijiinH has nmcli plrasuro in iiccoptin^ Mr.
lirovviiH kind invitation to tlu' K'cturo Thursday
t'venin<(, Marcli 2-'h'(l.

TiU'S(hiv, March 21st.

Miss Williams regrets that she cannot accr'pt Mr.
Brown's kind invitation for the lecture Thursday
evening, March 23rd.

Tuesday, March 21st.

Miss Williams i-ejj^rets that, owing to the danger-
ous illness of a dear friend, she is unable to accept
Mr. Brown's kind invitation to the lecture Thurs-
day evening, March 2.Srd.

Tuesday, March 21st.

EilqueHe of Calls.

Why society was ever cruel enough to invent
" calling " has always been a mystery to me : but she
has, and all we can do is to bravely face the fact.
Some of my little girls may after a while be obliged
to take up that, to me, joyless task ; and so a few
hints on calling may not be out of place. It is
correct :

For the caller who arrived first to leave first.

To return a first call within a week, and in person

To call promptly, and in person, after a first invita-
tion.

For the mother or chaperon to invite a gentleman
to call.

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BEAUTY.

199

To call within a week al'trr an L'litcrtdiinnent to
which one has been invited.

It is proper to make the first call upon people in a
hit,'her social position, if one is asked to do so.

For the older residents in the city, or street, to call
upon newcomers to their nei^ddoi-hood, is a lon^^
reco<(nized custom.

It is proper to call after an enirMfj^ement lias heen
announced or a n)arria<,'e taken place in the family.

To ascertain what are tlu; prescribed hours for
callin<:f in the place where one is livin^^ or makintjj a
visit, and to adhere to those hours, is a duty that
must not be overlooked.

It is proper after a removal from one part of the
city to another to send out cards with one's new
address upon them.

A trcntleman should ask for the lady of the house,
as well as the youn<; ladies, and leave cards for her
as well as for the head of the family.

Prdctival Rides an Taldc Manners.

Never put anything by force upon anyone's plate.
It is extremely ill-bred, though extremely common,
to press one to eat of anything. People usually know
whether they wish a thing or not.

Never pour gravy on a plate without permission.
It spoils the meat for some persons.

As soon as you are helped begin to occupy yourself
with wdiat you have before you. Do not wait till
your neighbors are served. It is a custom that was
long ago abandoned.

F3P^

irysiyw

200 (H'Tiril QrKsTIONS QrAlS'TKV ANsWKHEn.

I'nMid should !)(' Inokni. 'I'o lnitt«'r a Inr^^c pi('C(3
of lireud hikI llini l)itc it, as cliildron <lo, is iiich'^omt.

NtivtT us«' your own knil'i' <ir t*oi'i\ to liclp anotlu'i'.
IJh(j I'iitlior tilt' i\iiil'o or i'orl< of the iktsou you lirlp.

N«;v<'r turn xoui* cUiows out wlicn \ou use your
knilc and t'ori\. \'ou niav intcrlV'rr witli tlio comfort
of the one next you.

Xuver send your knife and fork, or eitlior of tljeni,
on your plate when you send foi' a second sup])ly.
Hold tliem in \our left hand.

Tea, cotlee, clioeolate, and the like, are <lrunk from
the cup. and nevei* from the saucer.

Don't attempt to talk with a full mouth. One
thin*^ at a time is as much as any man can do well.

If a dish is distasteful to vou. decline It, and
without comment.

In chewin;jf your food, keep your mouth shut;
otherwise you will make a noise that will he very
offensive to tho.se around vou.

Never put bones or ])its of fruit on the table-cloth.
Put them on the side of your plate.

Should you find a worm (jr insect in your food, say
nothiui^ about it.

If an accid<>nt of any kind soever .should occur
durino- the meal, the cause being who or what it may,
you should not seem to notice it.

Do not hesitate to take the last piece on a dish
simply because it is the last. To do so is to directly
express the fear that you would exhau.st the supply.

Avoid picking your t(>eth at the table, if possible;
but if you must, do it, if 3'ou can, in a way not to be
observed.

CllAiTl!:U XXI.

now TO KKKI' YOr.NfJ.

'"T^HIS subject (loosn't interest you iiiueli now, <I(M's
JL it fjirls !* P>ut, never mind tlii.. 's iust the time
when von want to learn th(.' secret. When I was a
youn*,^ ^irl my ])liysical ciiltm-e teacher was once talk-
ing to me ahout wrinkles. I smil'U.

"You may smile now," she said, " bui ." once yonr
^'ace becomes wrinkled you will wish you had pre-
vented it."

Perhaps there is nothin<^ makes one look old more
(piickly than wrinkles. The first and best prevetitive
is simply not to wrinkle. Every time on<' t'nnvns
there is a sli^dit trace left of the unlovely line. With
every additional frown this mark becomes deeper till
finally the face has an oM worn look. No matter
what disturbs you or how impatient you become, do
not frinvn. If you find your.self frowning; clo.se your
eyes and rub the hand f,'ently up across the forehead
a few times till the desire to wrinkle is ^^oue. Even
when facing the sun do ncjt frown. If you would
watch a number of people jL^oino- down the street
facincr the sun, and notice the homely contorti<jns of
their foreheads, you would almost wonder how they
could ever be smoothed out again.

Never bathe your face just before or just after

201

202 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

;

being out of dooi s for it has a tendency to wrinkle
the skin. Never bathe tlie face in liard water : a
few drops of ammonia will soften hard water. Do
not bathe the face while it is very warm, and never
use very cold water. Never use face powders ; they
injure the skin and cause wrinkles. To keep the face
soft, fresh-looking, and free from black-heads it must
have more bathing than it usually receives. It should
be given a Russian bath every evening befoi'e going
to bed ; that is, bathe it in water so hot that you can
hardly bear your hands in it. Do not give it a rub
or two and stop, but bathe it freely for five minutes
at least. Then dip the hands in cool water and rub
over the face. Dry the face with a soft towel ; it
should never be rubbed with anything rough. While
the face is thus soft rub gently for a few minutes in
the opposite direction of any wrinkles it may have.

If this treatment is begun before the face is spoiled,
and is faithfully continued, it will never grow old
looking ; that is, if the general health is not ruined
by improper living. Two or three times a month a
little glycerine cut with lemon juice or witch-hazel
may be applied to the face after its bath. It helps to
keep the skin soft. " But beware of cosmetics ; they
are generally good for nothing but the drug business.
One merry thought, one kind word, and the smallest
contribution to another's happiness, will do more for
the complexion than a tableful of cold cream, violet
powder, and other skin whiteners. A sweet thought
will make the face brighter and the eyes sparkle
every time it is harbored. It was Alice Gary who

HOW TO KEEP YOUNG.

203

sang this old truth so gracefully thirty years ago:
Don't mind the cosmetics, little woman ; just be as
cheerful as you can. Make the best of things. Avoid
disagreeable people. Don't read or listen to the hor-
rible. Try to forget the unpleasant things in life.
Be cheerful, be gentle, and so be lovely.

" Don't fret. Fretting is a sin which is everywhere
and by everybody underestimated and quite too much
overlooked in the valuation of character. It is as
connnon as a^r, as speech — so common that unless it
arises above its usual monotone, we do not even
observe it. Watch an ordinary coming together of
people and we will see how many minutes it is before
somebody frets — that is, makes more or less com-
plaining statements of something or other, which most
probably every one in the room or the car, or on the
street corner, knew before, and which most probably
nobody can help. Why say anything about it i It
is cold, it is hot ; it is wet, it is dry ; somebody has
broken an appointment, ill-cooked a meal ; stupidity
or bad faith somewhere has resulted in discomfort.
There are plenty of things to fret about. It is simply
astonishing how much annoyance and discomfort
may be found in the course of every day's living, if
only one keeps a sharp eye on that side of things.
Even to the sparks Hying upward in the blackest
smoke, there is the blue sky above, and the less time
they waste on the road the sooner they will reach it.
Fretting is all time wasted on the road. Not only
does fretting worry us and those around us, but
remember that nothing brings the wrinkles and
makes one old more quickly. "

SPPRSUviLu

^rr

204 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED,

' i

: j

» [

■ t

■ i
I

(

i
i

i
i
1

t
t'

j
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1
i

Be sure to liave your sleepin^r rooms filled with
fresh air. Breathing foul air night after night would
make anyone grow old.

The following simple gymnastic exercises will
greatly help to develop and strengthen the muscles
of the body and keep them young and elastic. But

while taking them there
must be no tight garments
on the body, a night robe
is best.

1. Stand erect with the
hands outstretched on a
level with the shoulders.
]^et the weight of the body
come forward on the ball
of the foot, then slowly
raise yourself on your toes,
then slowly down to the
floor again, but keeping the
weight on the ball of the
foot, not on the heel, which
is, however, to touch the floor at each return. Do
this only a few times a da}'^ at first, and increase the
number as one can.

2. Place the hands on the hips, and resting all the
weight of the body on the right foot, slowly raise the
left and extend it in front of the body. Then bend
at the knee, pointing the toe downward, and bringing
the foot up. Then stand on the left foot, and repeat
the exercise in the rever.se.

3. Extend the right arm, and placing the left on

COKSKT IN TIIK TIME OF
ELlZAniCTH OF EN(!LANr).

; : i

Mow TO KEEP YOUyO.

205

oil

the hip, bend over to tlie right as far as possil)le.
Then reverse the exercise.

4. Lie down on the iloor placing heels and toes
together ; the arms lying down by the sides, palms
toward the body. Slowly raise the arms without
bending the elbows until the thumbs touch the floor
above tlie head.

5. Stand erect and lean over at the hips without
bending the knees, and try to touch the floor with
the fingers.

If girls will begin these exercises while young, and
continue them through life, they will, under ordinary
circumstances, remain strong and elastic.

Always endeavor to stand properly.

The weight of the body should be on the balls of
the feet. The chest should always be erect ; that does
not mean the " shoulders thrown back," as some say.
If the chest is properly raised one will not be what is
called " hump-shoulder(.'d." The shouldei's will take
their proper position without any forcing. Never
protrude the abdomen, as it makes one look vulgar.

"Our 'standing' among our fellow-men is almost
as important a matter in a physical point of view as
in a social or moral sense. An erect carriage is
essential not only to beauty and health, but to grace
of movement. Standing may seem to be a little
thing, and not worth}' of much attention, but when
there are so few who stand erect, and so manv who
have wandered so far from nature in this respect,
well may we attempt to regain the old paths. The
mothers of ancient Greece exhorted their daughters

iSIPRSm«a»<

'!!>

206 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

to be virtuous, but they also urged them to hold
themselves upri^^ht and put back their shoulders.
Not one out of a hundred may pay any attention to
the position in standincr, but to acrjuire ereetness of
body and to promote health attention must be paid
to this duty.

" A bad position in sitting is quite as common as in
standing. Here also there must be an earnest effort
made, or one falls into a bad habit, and the result is
frequently round shoulders and diseases of the lungs.

" An erect posture in walking requires the use of
nearly all the muscles. As a health-promoting exer-
cise w^alking cannot be undervalued, if it is properly
engaged in. To make your walks in the highest
degree profitable to body and soul, cultivate a love of
the beautiful as manifested in nature. Those who
would add the beauty of graceful movement to the
attractions of face and form must be careful to
correct any inelegance of gait to which they may be
addicted. Mr. G. W. Courtise says : ' An American
woman bends only her knees, and hardly that. Her
gait gives a movement to her body like the squirming
motion of a wounded insect, with a naturalist's pin
throuirh its midriff. American women hold their
arms badly in walking; they generally bring them
forward, crossing their hands in front ; they have in
consequence the look of a trussed fowl, and have
about as much freedom of motion. If our women
were to let their arms fall freely by the side, they
would move more gracefully, walk better, and look
better.' "

HOW TO KEEI* YOUNG.

207

Breathe Properbj.

A great deal depends upon how and what we
breathe. Pure air is a holy thing that keeps the tires
of life burning brightly within us. Yet how little
some of us seem to value it. You who have read
" Koradine Letters" will remember her saying:
" Stand with me this early first of June morning
under the sun, with feet in the dew. Take a good,
long breath, hold it, and, with eyes closed, think of
what you are taking into your body, with what you
are renewing, sweetening, and freshening every cell
in your lungs ; it is the breath of the Infinite." Girls
who have never worn corsets know how to fill to its
depths every cell of their lungs with that " breath of
the Infinite " ; but girls who have worn them for
some time have to learn to breathe according to
nature's way. The natural breathing carries the air
straight to the bottom of the lungs, filling every tiny
cell, and the ribs move with every breath.

" Many people die for want of breath, when it is
their own carelessness alone that prevents them from
breathing. Our vitality is in proportion to our
respiration, if we only half breathe we only half live.
Expanding the chest and increasing our breathing
capacity is therefore of the utmost importance. Some
noted writer asserts that the development of the
chest is an absolute standard of the length of life.
It certainly is clear that b}^ expanding it life may
often be prolonged and health and beauty promoted."

Let us not be afraid of getting out of doors to get

0lffW^iiAii:

208 vri:i;u (^uesiions (quaintly answered.

'Ji \

sweet, fresh air, purified in infinite space. " Take
abundunt exercise in the open air — free, attractive,
joyous exercise, sucli as youn*;" ^irls, wlien not
clieeked by false and foolisli rules of society, are wont
to take. If you are in the country, or can get there,
ramble over the hills and throuj^h the woodlands ;

f "I f\

CORSET IN THK TIMK OF KLIZAIJETH OF EXliLAND.

seek I'are flowers and plants : hunt birdsnests, and
chase butterflies. Be a romp even though you be no
lonficer a little nirl. If \'ou are a wife and a mother,
so much the Ijetter. Romp with your children.
Attend also to your bodily jwsition in standing,
sitting, lying, and walking, and employ such general
or special gynniastics as your case may require. Live
while indoors in well-ventilated rooms.

HOW TO KEEP YOUNO.

200

ing.

Jive

" The Eiij^lisli girl spends more than one-half of her
waking hours in ])liysical amusements ; that is, in
amusements which tend to develop and invigorate and
ripen the bodily powers. Slie rides, walks, drives,
I'ows upon th(! water, runs, plays, swings, jumps the
rope, throws the ball, hurls the (pioit, draws the bow,
and all this without having it forever impressed upon
her mind that she is thereby wasting her time. She
does this every day till it becomes a habit which she
will follow up through lifr. Her frame as a necessary
conse(|uence is larger, her nniscular system better
developed, her nervous system in subordination to the
physical, her strength more enduring, and the whole
tone of her mind healthier. She may not know as
much at the age of seventeen as does the American
girl : as a general thing she does not, but the growth
of her intellect has not been stinudated by hot-house
culture, and though maturity comes later, it will last
proportioi lately longer."

Cultivate the habit of breathinfj throujjh the nose
and taking deep breaths. If this habit was universal,
there is little doubt that pulmonary affections would
be decreased one-half. An English physician calls
attention to this fact, that deep and forced respiration
will keejD the entire body in a glow in the coldest
weather, no matter how thinly one may be clad. He
was himself half-frozen to death one night, and began
taking deep breaths, and keeping the air in his lungs
as long as possible. The result was that he was
thoroughly comfortable in a few minutes. The deep
respirations, he says, stimulate the blood currents by

! I

U 1

210 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

direct muscular action, and cause the entire system to
become pervaded with the rapidlj'^-generated heat.

Mothers should see that their little ones learn to
breathe correctly — that is, through the nose, and to
take long breaths. A long breath will expand and
exercise the lungs to their fullest capacity, while a
short breath atiects the upper part. For people with
catarrhal tendencies or weak lungs there is nothing
better than deep breathing. It puts the blood in cir-
culation, thus benefitting the entire body. In cold
weather deep breathing generates considerable heat,
and the one who can breathe well never feels the cold
as does one who takes short breaths.

Long breaths are lung strengtheners, and such
exercise has cured severe colds in the lungs, and has
been known to do more good than medicine in the early
stages, or ratlier at the appearance, of consumption.
Such precaution and prevention cost nothing, and it
would be well to adopt the method.

It is perhaps one of the signs of the times, to those
alert for indications, that the art of breathing has
become more and more a subject of attention. Oculists,
as well as physiologists, go deeply into its study in a
way hardly to be touched upon here. Physicians have
cured aggravated cases of insomnia by long-drawn
regular breaths, fever-stricken patients have been
quieted, stubborn forms of indigestion made to dis-
appear. A tendency to consumption may be entirely
overcome, as some authority has within the last few
years clearly demonstrated, by exercises in breathing.
Sea-sickness, too, may be surmounted, and the victim

MOW TO Ki:i:i' V()r\(;.

211

has
ilists,

in a

I have

•awn

been

dis-
[irely

few
ling.

;tim

of liypnotic inthience tuu<;lit to withstand tlie force of
any energy directed a^^ainst liini.

Dr. Oertel, of Municli, has written mii extensive
work on breatluni>'. We cannot eiitei* into the
pliilosopli}' of his system, iuit the simple rnli's laid
down, withont entei'in^ into tin undei'standiiin- of tlie
principles nnderlyintjf them, h;ive heeii so helpful to
many asthmatic patients, and of iiitestimahle value to
all who practice them, that we cannot ])ass this subject
without calling' attention to them. No one need evei'
" tret out of breath " who follows the s\stem, no matter
liow long the walk oi' how steep the climb.

1. In making any ascent, either by stairway or
path, the rule is to use one breath for every ste{).
One should breathe through the nostrils, not talk, but
go systematically to work. The fuller the breath the
better.

2. In walking along a level stretch take two steps
to every breath. Always begin to exhale or inhale as
the same foot touches the groin id.

8. The third exercise is for riddinsj^ the luno-.sof the
air accumulated there. It is practiced with the
mouth open. Inhale as you put the right foot to the
ground. Then, as the left touches the ground, exhale
naturally, and as the right touches the ground exhale
ao-ain with an effort, so exT)ellini'' all the air from the
lungs. Then inhale again, now on the left foot, exhale
naturally on the right, and with an effort expel the air
as the left foot falls. This exercise is kept up for some
time, always in this way: Left foot, inhale: right
foot, exhale ; left foot, expel with an effort. Again,
14

212 (^lEKIl (/IKSTIONS QrAlNTF,V ANSWKUED.

i '

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r

■■

L '

IlL

ii:i

right foot, inhiilo ; left foot, oxl»ale ; right foot, expel
with an effort. The process of inlialing, tlierefore,
begins with alternate footsteps.

It must not be supposed that the gait of the
individual is badlv affected, made undulv awkward by
the effort to breathe in this way. On the contrary,
when once the idea is graspe<l, the whole movement
of the individual becomes rhythmic and graceful.

These rules, although simple, have been very bene-
ficial to many.

The following, too, are simple rules for breathing,
which may be taken with benefit l)y all. The cloth-
ing must be loose and the air fresh :

1. Place the hands on the sides and inhale slowly
till the lungs are filled with air ; then slowly exhale.
Repeat several times.

2. Place the hands over the diaphragm, the points
of the fingers meeting. Slowly irdiale and exhale
several times.

3. Inhale while counting twenty, hold the breath
while counting ten, then exhale while counting twent}'.

4. Place one hand high up under the shoulder, the
other on the top of the head. Breathe while slowly
bending.

5. Inhale while slowly raising the arms till the
backs of the hands touch above the head, not bending
the elbow. Exhale while slowly lowering them again.

Take Plci}f}/ of Slccj). — Many young people stay
up late night after night, and hence are always sleepy
when the^' arise in the morning. Go to bed early ;
give your body plenty of rest and plenty of sleep.
Sleep is nature's way of repairing the wear and tear

the

now TO KKKP YorXU.

2 1 :i

tear

of tlie (lay. And sleep, in order to be beneficial, must
be healthful and deep. Slee]) produced by artitici.d
means relieves the mind of its activities, but does not
strent^then or refri'sh, and is of little value.

'J'he sleeper should not be disturbed until he wakes
of his own accord. This should be particularly
remembered with re<,'ard to children. I have seen
different parents rout every child out of l)ed at Hve
o'clock in the morning-, and the poor, little, shivering
things would crawl out to the kitchen with swollen
eyes and gaping mouths. It is positive cruelty. All
children do not require the same amount of sleep ;
neither do all grown persons. But no child should
ever be awakened, except in the most urgent case,
until its sleep is over. There seems to be a rather
popular prejudice against sleep, a fear lest it will
work harm. But don't be alarmed — sound, healthful
sleep never did anything but good.

One hour's sleep gotten before midnight is worth
two after the midnight hour is past. If those
troubled with nervous prostration would try the
experiment and thus avoid late suppers, their nerves
would soon relax and the system would soon regain
its normal condition. No one can have })erfect health
without the necessary sleep of from seven to ten
hours every day, and from three to five of these
should be put in before twelve o'clock at night.

Headache, nervousness, and a long list of evils
follow in the wake of unaired sleeping rooms.
Drafts cause equally undesirable complications. Beds
should not be placed in the direct line between win-
dows and doors. Some prudent housewives have

214 ^hi:i:k (,»i:ksti()N's (jiainti.v ans\vf:iii;i).

ii'

Lii -4

four Kirmll Hcrows ])lnc('(l on tln' wiinlow hjihIich, two
!it the (()|i oil cncli side and two Ix-Iow tlicni, al)oiit
li\<' iiic'lics. Wlicn the window is lowci'cd to tliis
drptli every iiijL;lit, a sort of screen, made of veilinn-, js
fastened 1)V means of strinj/s to tlie screws. This
]»ernnts ficsli air to enter freely, hnt ])i'events a
stroHiX wind from hiowinu' a'^-iinst tlie slee))ei's.

//nil' h) linliiii' Slci'j) — Len;j;tlien tlie respiration
— in otlier words, ))reatlie slower hy taking deeper
breaths and expii'ino- tlie air slowly — and think of
the slow rise of the ehest, ett*. 'I'hese two thin;^s will
brine- slecip, but why .'' Slower breathin;;', of course,
means lessened bodily activity, so that is sim[)Ie.
But how does thinkino- of the chest induce sleej) '.

Thiidvin;;' of a thin^j,' implies that our bodily, as
well as mental, «;aze is fixed on it; to ^aze on one \s
chest the eyes must be directed downwards. Those
who suffer from insom.iia, and continually o-o over
the events of the past day (as such do), will find, on
personal examination, that their eye-balls are directe<l
upwards; "to tliiid-: " it is almost imperative such
should be the case: direct the eves downwards, and
keep them so, and " thinkine- " is not so easy.

It has been recommended that the ima<;ination
should conceive the breath issuine- from the nostrils ;
this breath has no shape or form, and hence is, per-
haps, a better '' object " than the chest. Years ago I
learned to do this, though 1 did not then know the
explanation. Practice no longer necessitates my con-
ceiving such objects as the breath or fhest, or feet, or
bed-foot, or anything below the level of the e^es, 1
can compel my eye-balls to turn down at will.

1
i

CIIAITKII XXII.

SI'NLHJIIT.

I5jiii.lfi<,a'(l uiid hlish-ivd fn.m liuiul lo toe.
Mrs. Kdgurs was wry low.
'■ottlu uiid sHUc'in', H|MM»n hiuI ciip,
On the tuMi- stond luavt-Iy ii|i ;
IMiy.sii! (.f liiLfli and low dcj^Mix' :
("alonud. catnip, honesct ti'a —
Kvorything ;i body n.uld iu-ar.
Excepting li^dit, and wati-r, and air.

I opened the hlinds ; the day was l.iiL(ht,
And (lod ^live Mrs. K()<,'ers some lij,dit.
I opened the window ; the day was fair,
And (iod gave IVirs. Rogers some air.
Bottles and hlj.sters, powders and pills,
Catnip, l)oiieset, syrup and sfpiills,
Drugs and medicines, high and low,
I threw them as far as I could thi'ow.
" What are you doing ;' '" my patient cried.
"Frightening death," 1 coolly rei.lied.
"You are cra/.y ! " a visitor said.
1 tiung a hottle at her head.

Deacon Rogers, he came to me ;
" Wife is comin' round," said he.
"I re'lly tliink she'll worry through ;
She scolds me just as she used to do.
All the people have poohed and slurred—
All the neighbors have had their word.

21 r>

■n

I! 1

216 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

'TwHS better tc^ perish, some of 'em say,
Than be cured in such an irregular way."
" Your wife," said I, " had God's good care.
And His remedies — light, and water, and air.
All the doctors, beyond a doubt.
Couldn't have cured Mrs. Rogers without.

The deacon smiled and bowed his head ;

"Then your bill is nothing," he said ;

* ' God's be the glory, as you say,

God bless you, doctor, good-day I good-day I "

If ever I doctor that woman again,
I'll give her medicine made by men.

— From the Medical World.

Most surely is sunlight God's good remedy for
disease. " And better hunt in fields for health un-
bought, than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught."
Sunliglit is one of the most powerful forces in
nature and kindles into being the whole vegetable
world, and makes animal life possible. The sun is
the great fountain of life and light, so get all the
light and all the sunshine you can.

It is well known that no valuable plant can grow
without being visited by the direct rays of the sun ;
no plant can bear seed, no fruit can ripen without it.
Any vine grown in the dark is white and strengthless.
Grass, grain, and flowers do not thrive under the
shadow of a tree. And shall we fancy that children
do not need sunshine quite as much as flowers do ?
Half an hour a day is not enough. Several hours are
required. The most beautiful flowers that ever stud-
ded a meadow could not be made half so beautiful

SUNLIGHT.

217

without days and days of the ghid light that streams
through space. Then give tlie chikh*en light ! Deal
it out in generous fuhiess to them. Let the nursery
be in the sunshine, better plant roses on the dark

'"t

'■'^fl'»Wf«'k

TTTE NURSERY

side of an iceberg tlian rear babies and cliiUlren in
rooms and alleys stinted of the light that makes life.
If potato vines are white and sickly when grown in
dark cellars, and plants and animals become scromlous
if deprived of light, can we hope for anything but
pale, sickly girls when reared in our parlors ^ " I

218 QUEEEl QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

1 .,

wish God liad never porinitted man to invent green
blinds," said a tliouu'lii'nl and brilliant woman. Why
did she say it ^ Because she saw, wherever she went
over our I'air and sunshiny land, that green blinds
were closely shut upon our comfortable house, ex-
cludinu' the sun's liiiht, which we may be sure God
sends down for some blessed piirpose. That blessed
purpose is to promote growth, to give strength, to
impart color, to gild with beauty, to inspire good
thoughts, and to insure light hearts and cheerful
faces.

Recent discoveries seem to prove that there is
conveyed to animals, by the direct action of the sun's
rays, a subtle current of iron. It does not exist in
light, or but very slightly, if at all, but it is a part of
the sun's i-ays. Therefore, we must enjoy these rays
if we would feel their full effect. This iron it is
which is supposed to give color to plants and animals,
and to impart strength and beauty. How much
pleasanter that mode of taking iron than swallowing
it in pills from the apothecary shop.

The hsh of the mammoth cave are white, their eyes
are not opened, because they have never felt the
glorious light ; they are weak and imperfect, a kind
of idiots.

HlH

ex-

CHAPTER XXIII.

RINfi GAMES AND FKOIJCs FOR f'HILDUEX's PARTIES.

Y^HAT SO long- or pleasantly remembered as a
V V children's party ? Yet how lightly they are
valued by many mothers 1 They give the children a
party occasionally because the children beg for it, but
they think of it only as a worry and a nuisance,' and
an upsetting of the house for naught. " Come, let us
live with our children : " and if we do we shall learn
something of the .joy a child takes out of a party.
Let us not try to shut the children off upstairs or in
the basement that we may get away from the
"racket'': but let us entertain them ourselves. Let
us be one at the party, and the most interested one.
Children need directing at their play, and the mother
who "lives with her childi-en," who loves and under-
stands children, can make a party one of the bright,
never-to-be-forgotten spots in their lives. The motlier
who woul.l be so happy as to have the full confidence
of her boys and girls when grown must retain it in
their childhood years by her sympathy with every
little trifle that goes to make up their lives. The
mother who feels no interest in the mud-pies of her
three-year-old darling will find closed against her, at
sixteen, the heart whose experiences and hopes and
ambitions she so longs to know about. " If you want

219

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220 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

' \

to know tlie heart of the maiden, you must be inter-
ested in the lieart of the cliild." Come, then, let us
j)l<i}/ with our children, and make the birthday party
a happy and long remembered holiday.

The simple games are always good — the games you
and your children have played over and over again.
Old games, like " Blind-man's-bufF," " Puss-in-the-
corner," "London Bridge," and their like, never seem
to lose their interest. Any game which, like "Thumbs
Up," has been played by children since the days of
Nero must, indeed, be worth playing to-day. Then,
again, kindergarten literature is full of new and
delightful suggestions for play and songs, so that
mothers have no end of resources for entertaining
their own children and their child friends.

Game of FUnvers. — Children never tire of ring
games. They like the simple ones best — those that
do not tax th(i memory to any great extent. They
prefer something with a catching swing in the
rhythm, carrying the same words thrc".gh many
verses, with just enough verbal change to indicate
the progress of the game.

The game of flowers is simple and sweet. It is
played similar to " London Bridge." Two children
stand opposite to each other and raise their joined
hands. Those forming the ring pass under, while all
keep saying or signing, suiting the action to the
words they sing :

" We're looking about for a daffodil,
A daffodil, a daft'odil.
We're looking about for a daffodil,
We've found one here. "

GAMES AXn FROLICS FOR CHILDREN.

221

At the word "here" the raised arin.s come down and
inclose the head of the child who happens at that
moment to be passing underneath their hands. Tlien
all sing :

" We find one here; we find one hero;
We're looking about for u daffodil,
And find one here."

"Daffodil" now takes the place of one of the
children who caught him or her, then calls out
"Buttercup." The children all understand that
" buttercup " instead of " daffodil " is the word, so they
make the lines :

" We're looking about for a buttercup,
A buttercup, a buttercup," etc.

The leader may hold a bouipiet and give to each
child the flower chosen.

The next child "Buttercup," being duly "found,"
takes the place of " Daffodil," and the child who has
held that place goes into the ring. The newcomer
calls out the name of some flower, like bright blue-
bell, daisy flower, or mignonette, and substituting the
word, they sing as before. Each child tries to be
ready with the name of some favorite flower, and the
game may close when each child or flower has been
"found."

Fox.—k game in which the children can run is
always a favorite. "Fox" is another ring play, so
easy that the smaller children can play it without
help. One of the children, "Fox," stays outside the
ring and slyly slaps the shoulder of one of the

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222 QUEER QUESTION'S QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

children. "Fox" runs to the Ici't, tlie child to the
rif^lit. The}' meet and ])ass each otlier goin^ nt full

speea ai'ouiia tiic rm

1 th

If.

The one wlio first nets back

to the "den" (tlie place in tlie iMiif wliere the child

was standing) may hold that place, and the other

nnist he the fox and try a race with some other child.

'" .liiKjIe lirlh" is another frolic which pleases little

)es. jjet manniia o)' the hostess hi

sises
ness

children for a "team." Thev ha\e string of small
hells around their necks, and a cambric or tarletan
rope is used for the "tackle" — the children taking
hold of it by twos, except the last in line, who acts as
"driver." The pianist p'a^'s the well-known college
glee, "Jingh' bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,"
and the children trot away at a merry pace. The
leaders hurrv on, making devious turns to ri^ht and
left, supposabl}' through snowdrifts and over high
hills and down in deep valleys. The children sing
the chorus, and the trip proves so delightful th.at they
are never ready to stop until a very long journey has
been made.

The aljove games may all be successfully played by
a large part}" of chiMren.

Whatever new i)lays the children may learn they
dearly love the old, old games :

"Buffy" and "Puss" and the "Needle's eye,"
"Tug" and "Tliiml)le" and "Halt: T spy,"
" Ring-round-a-rosy," and " Making a cheese,"
" Bean-})(>nidge-h()t " and " Slave, on your knees I "
" Man on your castle," " Stage-coaeli " and " Gool,"
Noon-hour games at the old village scht)ol.

GAMES AND FKOIJCS FOR rHIF,[)KK\

223

Fnn ,rUh /Vr//./,/,v.— A peanut liuiil is lots ..I' fun
for an cveninu- party. Tho liostcss hi.l.'s peanuts in
«iil sorts of (pu'er places al)out the room, sonietinx's
puttino- two or three nuts in the same place. Then
she provi<les each of her ouests with a little basket
tied with oay ribbons, an<l then th.- '• hunt" l)eo-ins.
Sometimes a march is playe.l, and the hunters must
keep step to the music, stoppino- when it sto[)s, and
startino- a^^^in when it starts. After a certain time
the finds are compared. The one who has the lar(r(>st
number wins the first prize, while the "boo},y" pn'ze
is fittin<,dy awarded to the one liavino- the fewvst

Some other trials that are oivat'sport ate often
introduced. One is to see who can carry the most
peanuts in one liand from one tal)le to anothei-. A
boy ouoht to win this. Forty-two is a ^-ood nundj.T.
r/ii/dren's M,nrh.-By all means let the c^uests be
punctual, so that all the children may be rea.ly to
join in the opening march. Let a o-ood pianist "lead
off' witli familiar airs, and if the hostess will I'emendjer
to provide a rope made out of strips of caml)ric or
tarletan lightly twisted, the childien mav all grasp it
with the right hand : then walking, say t\vo ieet
apart, and keeping the rope mildly taut, the v have but
to follow their leader or the one just in front, and a
march with many turnings will n(jt confuse the little
ones in the least A very simple and pretty march
for young children is formed as follows: Let the
children march in a circle six tinies around the room :
then diagonally across the i-oom by four ways, the
path along each side of the room adjoining the four

224. guEER grESTioNs quaintly answered.

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diagonals ; then in serpentine paths from north to
soutli six times across, aji^ain from east to west the
same. March by narrowing circles to the centre of
the room ; then, passing to the left, retrace directly
the same path until all are led to form again a full
circle about the outer edge of the room. By turning
to right and left the children may march to form
scallops reaching around the entire room. The march
closes with a general hand-clap})ing accompaniment to
a lively tune, the rope being dropped upon the floor.

The hostess who entertains a large number of little
people needs the help of a half-dozen grown-up girls
to start the march and games, and assist the smaller
children to join in them. They are also needed during
the refreshment hour.

As a rule, invited children should not proffer birth-
day gifts, unless their families happen to be relatives
or particularly intimate friends ; the privilege of gift-
making belongs to home friends.

A Quofafion Hnnf.— Thin game is best described
by one who was present and enjoyed its pleasures.

Upon entering by invitation a friend's parlor one
evening last June, I was puzzled by the sight of the
numerous little slips of paper that seemed to be every-
where — pinned to curtain, chaii', mantel lambrequin
and cushions, over table and piano cover, on picture
frames and on brie a-brac the little slips found lodg-
ment. Presently the guests arrived, and our hostess
informed us that on each slip was written one-cjuarter
of a familiar quotation. We might pick up any slij)
we wished, and proceed to find the rest of the quota-

GAMES AND FROLICS FOU CHILDREN.

Art ^*^

tion of which it formed a pnrt. We wei-e allowed to
ask for parts of ([notations, the one asked bciiiir
oblifred to hand over the slip asked for if he or she
ha])pened to have it. At a given signal we started,
and a lively time ensued, the object being to see who
could match the greatest number of ([notations. I
first picked up a slip on which I read, " to see oursels."
I found " Oh ! wad sae power " in the hands of one of
the company. " The giftie gie us " had taken refuge
in the corner of a white picture frame, and "as iihers
see us" was nestled comfortably in a fold of a
portiere.

The prizes were appropriate, but inexpensive, the
most elaborate one being a dainty booklet for the most
successful searcher, while the member of the cojni)any
who had been least successful received a pair of steel-
rimmed spectacles, to which was attached a note
expressing the hope that they would aid in future
searches.

Distinguished Qncsfs.—^ot long since I accepted
an invitation to spend the evening at a neiidibor's
At eight o'clock we found ourselves in the pleasant
parlor of our hostess. In the course of an hour other
guests came, until we numbered fifteen.

The two young ladies, our hostesses, stated that a
number of distinguished guests had been invited, but
being unable to come had sent their cards to represent
them. The younger sister then passed a tray of cards,
on which were the names of friends who could not be
with us. Each one present had the privilege of draw-
ing a card, but was not allowed to look at the name

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GAMES AND FUOLICS Full (Hll.DllKN.

2*27

on it. The (!ld<'r sister stooil, paper ol' pins in hand,
ready to fasten tlic card on the back of the hidy who
had drawn it. Thns each of us carried about, not on our
faces, l)ut on our backs, tlu; eliaracters we were to
personate, nor could we find out, except by discreet
questioning^, wlioni we were representin<^.

The remark that some of us were <lead,somo livin*^,
some real and some fictitious, set our bi-ains in a
whirl. One lady, (}ueenly in her beariiii,^ who was
labelled "Queen Victoria," in due time discovered her
identity. The Duke of York, ( dadstone. Lord Tenny-
son and his " Maud " were present. One lad\', to her
own satisfaction, tui'ued out to be Susan H. Anthony.
Even the Infanta and her Duke wei*e with us, and
also Mr. and Mrs. Potter Palmer and Miss America.
Pe^fifotty and Barkis ha<l <(reat difficulty in Hndint;
out who they were, and though both were " willin'"
could not miess their identitv. Adam himself was
there and his dear Eve, whom lie found after many
trials.

It can easily be imat^ined what fuiuiy blundei-s were
made until we learned what names we bore, and that
there was no possible chance for stiHhess amonj^ the
guests can be readily surmised.

Refreshments were served in another room, wliere
the English ladies and gentlemen sat at one small
table, the Infanta and Duke of Veragua at another,
Adam and Eve at a third. Sweet peas were scattere<l
loosely over each table. Ice cream and cake were
served, and later, cofl'ee. Nothing could have been
simpler nor more expressive of genuine hospitality
15

22S t^lKKK (^IKSTIONS gfAINTLY ANSWEKKI).

i ;

than iliis clmrminf^ and unl(|ue entortainrncnt of
(listin;4uislit'(l people.

(MtKs (JiK'sf l(nis ii III/ ('rookrd Aiisirers. — The com-
pany sit around, and eacli one whispers a (piestion to
liis nei«j^hhor at tlio rii^ht, and tlicn each one uliispers
an answer; so that each answers the ipiestion j)ro-
pounded by some other player, jind of the purport of
which he is, of course, i<;norant. Then every jilayer
has to recite tlie (juestion lie received from one player
and tlie answer he <j^ot from the other, and the ridiculous
incon;^a*uily of these random cross (piestions and
crooketj answers will frecjuently excite a <;ood deal of
sport. One, for instance, may say, " I was asked,
* Are you jiijoin*^ to-morrow ;* ' " an<l the answer is, " It
is in the cupboard." Another may ask, " What had
you for dinner :* " and the answer is, " Sleeve and cutl'
buttons" A third, " I was asked, ' Did you see the
carriage pass ? " and the answer is, " He came
yesterday I "

To Place Water in a J)ri iiki n(j (Jlass Upside Jhnvn.
— Procun^ a plate, a tumbler, and a small piece of
tissue or silver paper. Set the plate on a table and
pour water into it up to the fir.st !-im. Now very
slightly crumple up the paper and place it in the
glass ; then set it on lire. Wlien it is burned out, or
rather just as the last flame disappears, turn the glass
(juickly upside down into the water. Astonishing !
The water rushes with great violence into the glass.
Now you are satisfied that water can be placed in a
drinking glass upside down. Hold the glass firm, and
the plate also. You can now reverse the position of

III

(JAMKS ANI» ri«()IJ« s KO|{ CIIIF-DHKN.

221)

i)l

tho |)lat«'iiti(l f^IasH.ainl thus convince the nio.stHkepticnl
of the truth of your pnouiniitic uxperimcnt. InHtejul
of burnirit; paprr, ,i little bnunly or spirits of wiuocan
be ignited in the glass; the result of its combustion
being invisible, the experiment is cleaner.

Giicssin;/. — (Juessing is a gamr that whiles away
many an liour pleasantly, as the chihln.'n gather around
the kitchen fire while the evening work is being done.
One of the pai'ty thinks of an object, and gives the
Hi'st letter of its name. For instance, on(; thinks of a
ship and says, " 1 have thought of something, and it
begins with S." 'ri)e rest then (piestion him, and lie
must answer as best h(^ can, unless the (juestion comes
too close, and he deelares it would be " telling." 'I'hey
may ask : What color is it ^ Is it .sometliing made, or
does it grow ^ Has it legs ^ Does it move about, or
is it stationary ^ Is it vegetable, animal, or mineral ?
Have we one / ( )f course, some will be easily guessed,
and others will tax the ingenuity of the best guessers.
In a compound word the first letter of each word
should be given.

Mothers with the little ones trooping around them
can make the evening excee<lingly pleasant, and sonu;-
thing to look back upon with pleasure in after years.

Puzzles. — Puzzles of (liferent kinds usually afford
considerable anmsement. The following may puzzle
for some little time not only the children but some of
the older girls and boys as w^ell. Mark out on paste-
board or wood seven e(]ual sipiares. Letter the three
on the left L, and the three on the right R, leaving
the centre s<|uare a blank. Then cut out of paste-

230 QTEKK Ql'ESTIONS gUAINTLV ANSWERED.

Loarfl or wood six squares equal to these, marking
three of them R, and three of them L. Place the
L's on the board over the L's, and tlie R's over the
R's. The puzzle is to change the R's to the spaces
occupied hy the L's, and tlie L's to tlie spaces occu-
pied by the R's. Tlie R's nnist move only toward
the left, moving but one vacant space at a time, or
jumping one L. The L's must move only toward the
right, moving but one vacant space at a time, or
jumping one R. The following are the moves neces-
sary to work it out, the squares being numbered con-
secutively from 1 to 7, the first L being numbered 1.

3 to 4

1 to 2

4 to ()

5 to 3

3 to 1

2 to 4

() to 5

5 to 3

3 to 2

4 to 6

7 to 5

5 to 3

2 to 4

() to 7

4 to 5

Another inicresting puzzle is worked with tooth-
picks. Stand ten tooth-picks side by side in a row.
Make live piles out of these ten. tooth-picks, but
whenever you move one it must jump two others.
Begin at the left, naming your tooth-picks A, B, C,
J), E, F, G, H, I, J. Then move as follows, and you
will have your five piles, having jumped two picks at
each move.

Move ]) to A, F to I, H to G, B to E (the two
jumped here are in one pile), J to G.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HOW TO NUliSE SICK CHILDKEX.

P VERY doctor knows that a large share of tlie
J^ ills to which infancy is snl)ject are directly
traceable to mismanagement. Troubles of the diges-
tive system are, for the most part, due to errors,
either in the selection of the food or in the prepara-
tion of it.

Resplmtorij 7) iwr/^rx— Respiratory diseases, or the
diseases of the throat and lungs, have their origin, as
a rule, in want of care and Ju.lgnient in matters of
clothing, bathing, and exposure to cold and drafts.
A cliild should always be dressed to suit the existinc-
temperature of the weather. ^

Ncrvaas nimtses.—^tvvous diseases are oft.^'ii
aggravated, if not r^.u.-.^d, by over-stimulation of the
brain, by irrogr far loias of sleep, or by the use of
"soothing ■ i>.' licines, or eating indigestible food.

S/:rn Arh'ti'"^-—^km atfecUons are generallv due
to want of pror er care of the skin, to im^.^oper cloth-
ing or feeding, or to indiscriminate association with
nurses and children who are the carriers of con-
tagious diseases.

Every mother should understm.l the rules and
principles of home-nur^fng. Children are very ten-
der plants, and the want :.. prop.-r laiowledge is often

232 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

: i

"11;

i ■

1 'i

1 \- 5

■1

4 '•',''■
i

very disastrous if not fatal. A niotlier sliould uikIct-
stand :

Infant Fcfdivy. — The care of milk, inilk steriliza-
tion, care of bottles, preparation of commonly em-
ployed infant foods, the general principles of infant
feeding, with rules as to quality and fre(piency.

Bathlmj. — The daily bath ; the use of hot, cold, and
mustard baths.

Hygiene of the SJdti. — Care of the mouth, eyes
and ears. Ventilation, temperature, cleanliness, care
of napkins, etc.

Training of Children in proper bodily habits.
Simple means of treatment in sickness, etc.

The cry of the child is a language by which the
character of its suffering to some extent may be
ascertained. The manner in which the cry is uttered,
or the pitch and tone is generally a symptom of a
certain kind of disease.

StoinacJt-aclie. — The cry of the child in suffering
with pain of the stomach is loud, excitable, and spas-
modic. The legs are draw^n up, and as the pain
ceases, they are relaxed, and the child sobs itself to
sleep, and rests until awakened again by pain.

Lung Trouble. — When a child is sutt'ering with an
affection of the lungs or throat, it never cries loudly
or continuously. A distress in breathing causes a
sort of subdued cry and low moaning. If there is a
slight cough it is generally a sign that thc'e is some
complication with the lungs.

Dlseafie of the Brain. — In disease of the brain the
cry is always, sharp, short, and piercing. Drowsiness
generally follows each spasm of pain.

HOW TO XURSE SICK CHILDREN.

233

ler

Fevers.— Children rarely cry wlion sutt'erinu- witli
fever unless they are disturbed. They should be
handled very gently and spoken to in a very (juiet
and tender tone of voice.

The Chamber of the Sick Room. — The room of the
sick child should be kept scrupulously clean. No
noise should disturb the (juiet and rest of the child.
If the weather is mild, plenty of fresh air should be
admitted ; the temperature should be kept at about
70 degrees. A thermometer should be kept in the
room, and the air should be changed several times
during the day. This may be done with safety to
the child by covering it up with woolen blankets to
protect it from draft, while the windows and doors
are opened. Fresh air often does more to restore the
sick child than the doctor's medicine. Take the best
room in the house. If necessary take the parlor;
always make the room pleasant for the sick.

Visitors. — Carefully avoid the conversation of

visitors or the loud and boisterous playing of children

a the house. If there is much noise about the house

that cannot be avoided, it is a good plan to put cotton

in the ears of the patient.

Light in the Room. — Light has a tendency to pro-
duce nervous irritability, conse(iuently it is best to
exclude as much daylight as possible and keep the
room in a sort of twiliglit until the child begins to
improve. Be caroful to avoid any odor coming from
a burning lamp in the night. When the child begins
to recover, give it plenty of sunlight. After the child
begins to get better let in all the sunlight the windows
will admit. Take a south room for the sick bed.

♦iSTj'

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234 QUEER QrESTIOXS QUAINTLY AXSWEHED.

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'Sickness in Sniiniwr. — If the weather is very hot
it is a good plan to (hinipen the floors with cold water,
or set several dishes ol' water in the room, but be
careful to keep the patient out of the draft, and avoid
any sudden change of temperature.

Iii(fliin(/. — IJathe every sick child in warm water
once a day unless prohibited by the doctor. If the
child has a spasm or any attack of a serious nervous
character in abs oce of the doctor, place him in a hot
bath at once. Ho s vier is one of the finest agencies
for the cure of nervi i. liseases.

Harriet Fever and Measles. — Bathe the child in
warm water to bring out the rash, and put in about a
dessertspoonful of mustard into each bath.

Drinks. — li* a child is suffering with fevers, let it
have all the water it wants. Toast- water w4ll be
found nourishing. Wlicn the stomach of the child is
in an irritable condition, nourishments containing
milk or any other fluid should be given very spar-
ingly. Barley-water and rice-water are very sooth-
iniT to an irritable stomach.

Food. — iMellin's Food and milk is very nourishing
if the child w^ill take it. Oatmeal gruel, white of
eggs, etc., are excellent and nourishing articles.

Eiitimj Fruit. — Let children who are recovering
from sickness eat moderately of good fresh fruit.
Never let a child, whether well or sick, eat the skins
of any kind of fruit. The outer covering of fruit was
not made to eat, and often has poisonous matter very
injurious to health upon its surface. Contagious and
infectious diseases are often communicated in that
way.

.li, '■

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HOW TO NURSE SICK CHILDREN.

335

Sudden StavtiiKjH with tlio thumbs drawn into the
pahns, portend trouble witli the brain, and often end
in convulsions, which are far more serious in infants
than in children. Convulsions in children often result
from a suppression of urine. If you have occasion to
believe tliat sucli is the case, ^et the patient to sweat-
in<)j as soon as possible. Give it a hot bath, after
which cover it up in bed and put bags of hot salt over
the lower part of the abdomen.

Hympfoins of [ii<ll<i<'sli<)it. — If the baby shows
symptoms of indigestion, do not begin giving it
medicine. It is wiser to decrease the (quantity and
({uality of the food and let the little one omit one
meal entirely, that the stomach may rest. Avoid all
starchy foods, as the organs of digestion are not
sufficiently developed to receive them.

Coiv'i^ Milk is steadily growing in favor as an
artificial food. Country milk should be used instead
of milk purchased in town or city. In feeding a baby
on cow's milk, take the upper half of milk that has
stood an hour or two, dilute, hardly as much as a
third, with sweetened water, and if there is a tendency
to sour stomach, put in a teaspoonful of lime water to
every (juart. The milk and water should both be
boiletl separately. If the baby is constipated, it is
best to heat the milk over boilinii: water and not
allow it to boil.

How to Keep a B(d)i/ Well. — The mother's milk is
the natural food, and nothing can fully take its place.

The infant's stomach does not readily accommodate
itself to changes in diet; therefore, regularity in

286 QT'EER QUESTIONS QrATNTLV ANSWEKED.

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(juality, (luaiitity, and temperature is extremely
necessary.

Not until a child is a year old should it be allowed
any food except that of milk, and possibly a little
cracker or bread, thorou<^hly soaked and softened.

Meat should never be given to youn<^ children.
The best artificial food is cream, reduced and sweet-
ened with suirar and milk. Xo rule can be iriven for

ach

's stoma

n IS governc

luction
that, because every
rule of its own.

A child can be .safely weaned at one year of af^e,
and sometimes less. It depends entirely upon the
season, and upon the health of the child.

A child should never be weaned durinijf the warm
weather in June, July, or Aucrust.

When a child is weaned it may be given, in con-
nection with the milk diet, some such nourishment as
l)roth, gruel, c^rg, or some prepared food.

A child should never be allowed to come to the
tal)le until two j^ears of age.

A child should never eat much starchy food until
four years old.

A child should have all the water it desires to
drink, but it is decidedly the best to boil the water
first, and allow it to cool. All the impurities and
disease germs are thereby destroyed. This one thing
alone will add greatly to the health and vigor of the
child.

Where there is a tendency to bowel disorder, a
little gum arable, rice, or barley, may be boiled with
the drinking water.

HOW TO XUHSE SIPK f'HIF.DKEX.

2:^7

If the child uses ji bottle, it should be kept abso-
lutely clean. It is best to have two or three bottles,
so that one will always be perfectly clean and fresh.
The nipple should be of black oi- pure rubl)er, and
not of white or vulcanized rubber. It should tit over
the top of the bottle, no tubes should ever be used.
It is impossible to keep them clean.

When the rubber becomes coated a little coarse salt
will clean it.

. Babies should be fed at reoular times. They
should also be put to sleep at rc^^ular hours. Rco-u-
larity is one of the best safenuards to health.

Milk for babies and children should be from
healthy cows. Milk from difibrent cows vai-ies, and
it is always better for a child to have milk from the
same cow. A farrow cow's milk is preferable, especi-
ally if the child is not very stron*^.

Many of the prepared foods advertized for children
are of little benefit. A few may be .<;'Ood, but what is
good for one child ma}' not be for another. So it
must be simply a matter of experiment if any of the
advertised foods are used.

It is a physiological fact that an infant is always
healthier and better to sleep alone. It gets better air
and is not liable to sutibcation.

A healthy child should never be feci in le.ss than
two hours from the last time they finished before,
gradually lengthening the time as it grows older. At
four months, three and a half or four hours : at five
months a healthy child will be better if given nothiu<'-
in the night except, perhaps, a little water.

238 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

(jiive an infant a little water several times a day.

A delicate child the Hrst year sh(juld be oiled after
each bath. The oiling may often take tlie place of a
bath, in case of a cold.

In oiling a babe, nse pure olive oil, and wij)e off
tlioroughly after each application. For nourishing a
weak child use also olive oil.

For colds, couglis, croup, etc., use goose oil exter-
nally, and give a teaspoonful at bed-time.

■ 1^

t
1

:!i

1 )

(lay.
I after
ce of a

pe off
king a

exter-

]

CHAPTER XXV.

HINTS FOR HOT WEATHER.

Bathe infants J./Z/y in tepid water, and even twice
a day in hot weatlier.

_ If delicate they should be sponcred instead of
immersing them in water; but cleanliness is absolutely
necessary for the health of infants.

I'uf nn hands in flwlr vlnthhuj, but make all
garments to hang loosely from the shoulders, and
have all then- clothing scrupuhmsly dmii, even the
diaper should not be re-used without rinsing.

The child should in all cases sleep by itself on a cot
or in a crib, and retire at a regular "hour. A child
always early taught to go to sleep without rocking
or nursing is the healthier and happier for it. Begin
at birth and this will be easily accomplished.

iVe^-er give cordials, soothing syrups, sleeping
drops, etc., without the advice of a physician. A
child that frets and does not sleep is either hungry or
ill. If ill it needs a physician. Never give candy
or cake to (juiet a small child, they are sure to pro-
duce disorders of the stomach, diarrhea, or some
other trouble.

Chiblrcn should have plenty of fresh <///', winter
as well as summer. Avoid the severe hot sun and
the heated kitchen for infants in summer. Heat is

239

240 g(M<:EI{ (^UESTFONS QUAINTLY ANSWEUED.

tho great destroyer of int'iints. In excessively hot
weather i'eccl them with elii})s of ice occasionally, if
you have it.

Kccf) tjoar huaiae deau and cool and well aired

I! ; i!

:•! 1

A KNUiirr OF Tllli MATH.

nio'ht and dav. V'our cellars cleared of all rubbish
and whitewashed every sprino- : your drains cleaned
with strong solution of copperas or chloride of lime,
poured down them once a week. Keep ^^our gutters
and yards clean, and insist upon your neighbors doing
the same.

iMl'

HINTS FOR HOT WEATFIKK.

\y hot
filly, if

aired

241

)bish
aned
lime,
tters
oing

The healthy evacuation of a child varie.s from li.;ht
oran<re yellow to ^rreenish yellow, in miml.er, two to
four times daily. Hmell should never be ott'eiisivc,
Slimy, mucous-like jelly passaoes indicate worms.
Pale green, offensive, acrid motions indicate dis-
ordered stomach. Dark oreen indicate acid seci-etions
and a more serious trouble.

^ Fetid dark brown stools ai*e present in chronic
diarrhea. Putty like pasty pas.sages are due to
acidity curdling the milk or to torpid liver.

Breast mUk is the only proper food foi- infants,
until after the second sun)nier. If the supply is
small keep what yow have and feed the child in con-
nection with it, for if the babe is ill this breast milk
may be all that will save its life.

Milk' shoiddbc Htrrilizcd. Goat's milk best, cow's
milk next. If the child thrives on this nof/dnfj rhsc
should be given during the hot weather, until the
front teeth are cut. (iet fi-esh cow's miik twice a
day if the child requires food in the night, pour it
into a glass fruit jar with one-third pure water for a
child under three months old ; afterwai-ds the propor-
tion of watei- may be less and less, also a trifle of
sugar may be added.

^ Then place the jar in a kettle or pan of coll Arater,
like the bottom of an oatmeal kettle. Leave the
cover of the jar loose. Place it on the stove and let
the water come to a boil anrl boil ten minutes, screw
down the cover tight and boil ten mimites more, then
remove from the fire, and allow it to cool in the water
slowly so as not to break the jar. When partly cool

MWOT

t!.

242 (^I'EKll QrKSTIONS (^rAIXTr.V ANSWKIJEI).

put on tlie ice or in n cool pluci', and keep ti^ditly
covered except when tlie milk is poured out for use.
The ghiHH jar nnist l>e kept perfectly clean and
washed and scalded carefully before use. A teaspoon-
ful of lime water to a bottle of milk will aid in
digestion. Discard the bottle as soon as possible and
use a cup wliieh you know is clean, whereas a bottle
must be kept in water constantly when not in use, or
the sour milk will make the child sick. Use no tuV>e,
for it is exceediujLjly hard to keep it clean, and if ])ure
milk cannot be had, condensed milk is admirable and
does not need to be sterilized as the above.

('/lildren should hare e.irrcisc in the liouse as well
as outdoors, but should not be jolted and jumped and
jarred in rough play, not rudely rocked in the cradle,
nor carelessly trundled over bumps in tiieir carriages.
They should not be held too much in the arms, but
allowed to crawl and kick upon the floor and develop
their limbs and nuiscles. A child should not be lifted
by its arms, nor dragged along by one hand after it
learns to take a few feeble steps : but wdien they do
learn to walk steadily it is the best of all exercises,
especially in the open air.

Let the children as they grow older romp and play
in the open air all they wish, girls as well as boys.

Infant TcctJi'ing. — There are instances where babies
have been born with teeth, and on the other hand,
there are cases of persons who never had any teeth
at all ; and others that had double teeth all around
in both upper and lower jaws ; but these are rare
instances, and may be termed a sort of freaks of
nature.

TREATMENT F'OU rinf-DIlENS DISEASES.

24:i

iind
rare
of

■

Tin' I'n'sl frrl/i Kriicrally ii»uk(! tlit'ir a[)pt'aniiu'L'
alter tlu' third moiitli, niwl during tlic period of teetli-
iii^ the child is fi'etful and I'estless, eaiisiiio- sometiineH
constitutional disturhances such as diarrhea, indiues-
tion, etc. Usually, howevei', no serious results follow,
and no uiniocessaiy anxiety need he felt, unless the
weather is e.xtreniely wai"ni : then there is son»e danger
of summer complaint setting in and seriously eompli-
oatiniT matters.

Trcf/i iit'r (/('lurdl/;/ ('II f ! I) yK///'.s', and make their
ajipearaiice tirst in the front and ^'oin^,' hackwanis
until all are complete. It n-cuerally takes ahout two
years for a temporary set of children s teeth to come. A
child two or three years old should liave twent}'^ teeth.
After the a<>-e of seven they {generally l)eo;in to loosen
and fall out, and permanent teetli take their place.

Jj(i nciiKj t/if (jHins is very rarely necessary. There
are extreme cases when the condition of the mouth
and health of the child demand a pliN'sician's lance, but
this should not he resorte<l to unless it is absolutely
necessary. When the gums are very nmch swollen, and
the tooth is nearly throuo;h,the pains maybe relieved
by the mother takin<( a thindDle and pressin^^ it down
upon the tooth, the sharp edges of the tooth will cut
through the swollen ilesh, and instant relief will follow.
A child in a few hours or a day may be perfectly
happy after a severe and tryini;- time of sickness.

The teeth are firndy inserted in sockets of the upper
and lower jaw. The permanent teeth which follow
the temporary teeth, when complete, are sixteen in

each jaw, or thirty- two in all.
10

ssa

"<i

'Ml

■ e

Q UEER (QUESTION'S QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

There are four incisors (front teeth), four cuspids
(eye teeth), four bicuspids (grinders), and four molars
(lar^-e grinders), in each jaw. Each tooth is divided
into the crown, body, and root. The crown is the
grinding surface ; the body — tlie part projecting from
the jaw — is the seat of sensation and nutrition ; the
root is that portion of the tooth wliich is inserted in
the alveolus. The teeth are composed of dentine (ivory)
and enamel. The ivory forms the greater portion of
the body and root, while the enamel covers the
exposed surface. The small white cords communicating
with the teeth are the nerves.

i!i

i I:

(■

cuspids
'.' molars
divided
1 is the
tig from
on ; the
3rted in
(ivory)
ftion of
?rs the
licatino;

CHAPTER XXVI.

THKATMEXT FOIl CinLDHEX's DISEASES.

r\ JT of the 984,000 persons tliat died durino- the
Vy year of 1890, 227,264 did not reacli one'i'ear
of age, and 400,647 died under five years of age. '

What a fearful responsibilty therefore rests upon the
])arents who permit these hundreds of tliousands of
children to die annually. This terrible mortality am-n
children is undoubtedly largely the result of ignor
ance regarding the proper care and treatment ot^sick
children.

For very small children it is always best to use
homoeopathic remedies.

C'O^ic— Babies often suffer severely with colie. It
is not considered dangerous, but causes considerable
suffering:.

Severe colic is usually the result of derangement of
the liver in the mother, or of her insulhcient or
improper nourishment, and it occurs more frequently
when the child is from two to five months old.

Let the mother eat chiefly barley, wheat, and bread,
rolled wheat, graham bread, fish, milk, eggs and fruit.
The latter may be freely eaten, avoiding that which
is very sour.

A rubber bag or bottle iillerl with hot water put
into a crib will keep the child,, once (juieted, asleep

245

246 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

'i'

•i'

\ ',■ •

■

I i

M ■

for hours. If a child is sutlerin<j from colic, it should
be thoroughly warmud and kept warm.

Avoid giving opiates of any kind, such as cordials,
Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup, " Mothers' Friend,"
and various other patent medicines. They injure the
stomach and health of the child, instead of benefitting
it.

Remedies. — A few tablespoonfuls of hot W£., av will
often allay a severe attack of the colic. Catnip tea is
also a good remedy.

A drop of essence of peppermint in six or seven tea-
spoonfuls of hot water will give relief.

If the stools are green and the child very restless,
give chamomilla.

If the child is suffering from constipation, and
undigested curds of milk appear in its faeces, and the
child starts suddenly in its sleep, give nux vomica.

All injection of a few spoonfuls of hot water into the
rectum, with a little asafd'tida, is an effective remed\%
and will be good for an adult.

Constipation is a very frequent ailment of infants.
The first thing necessary is for the mother to regulate
her diet.

If the child is nursed regularly, and held out at the
same time each day, it will seldom be troubled with
this complaint. Give plenty of wd.tri: Regularity of
habit is the best remedy. If this method fails, use a
soap suppository. Make it by paring a piece of white
castile soap round. It should be made about the size
of a lead pencil, pointed at the end.

Avoid giving a baby drugs. Let the physician
administer them if necessary.

t should

cordials,
Friend,"
jure the
lefittincr

. ^r will
p tea is

^en tea-

t'estless,

)n, and
md the
liea.
nto the
eniedv,

nfants.
Jgulate

at the
1 with
rity of
, use a
white
le size

sician

TREATMEJfT FOR CHILDREN'S DISEASES. 247

DiarrJu'(i.—Gre-dt care should be exercised by
parents in checking the diarrhea of children. Many
times serious diseases are brought on by parents being
too hasty in checking this disorder of the bowels. It
is an infant's method of removing obstructions and
overcoming derangements of the system.

Summer complaint is an irritation and inflanunation
of the lining membranes of the intestines. This may
often be caused by teetlii ng, eating indigestible food,
etc.

If the discharges are only frequent and yellow, and
not accompanied with pain, there is no cause for
anxiety ; but if the discharges are green, soon l)ecoming
gray, brown, and sometimes frothy, having a mixture
of phlegm, and sometimes containing food undisgested,
a physician had better be summoned.

For mild attacks the following treatment may be

given :

Keep the child perfectly quiet, and keep the room
well-aired.

Put a drop of tincture of camphor on a teaspoon ful
of sugar, mix thoroughly ; then add six teaspoonfuls of
hot water, and give a teaspoonful of the mixtui-e every
ten minutes. This is indicated wdiere the discharges
are watery, and where there is vomiting, and coldness
of the feet and hands. Chamomilla is also an excel-
lent remedy. Ipecac and nux vomica may also be

given.

In giving homcx^opathic remedies, give five or six
pellets every two or three hours.

The diet should be wholesome and nourishintr.

■!■

248 QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

Worms. — Piiiworins ?iii(l round worms are most
common in cliildren. They are f^cnerally found in the
lower bowels.

Sjiniptonts. — Restlessness, itehin<^ about the anus in
the fore part of the (.'veninijf, and worms in the tVeces.

Treatmp.ni. — Give with a syriui^e an injection of a
tablespoonful of linseed oil. Cleanliness is also very
necessary.

^'l round worm is from six to sixteen inches in
lenj^th, resembling the common earth-worm. It
inhabits generally the small intestines, but it some-
times enters the stomach, and is thrown up by
vomiting.

l:>i/mpf()ms. — Distress, indigestion, swelling of the
abdomen, grinding of the teeth, restlessness, and some-
times convulsions.

Trenfmcnl. — One teaspoonful of powdered worm-
seed mixed with a sufficient (quantity of molasses, or
spread on bread and butter.

Or, one grain of santonine every four hours for two
or three days, followed by a brisk cathartic. Worm-
wood tea is also highly recommended.

Sw(i 1 Ill's Venn if II lie

2 ounces wormseed,
\\ ounces valerian,

I \ ounces rhubarb,

II ounces pink-root,

l.V ounces white asxaric.

Boil in sufficient water to yield three (juarts of the
decoction, and add to it thirty drops of oil of tansy, and

TREATMENT FOR CHILDREN S DISEASES.

241)

forty-five drops of oil of cloves, dissolved in a quart
of rectified spirits. Dose, one teaspoonful at night.

Another Rnrllenf Vcnnifiif/c.

Oil of wormseed, 1 ounce,
Oil of anise, 1 ounce,
Castor oil, 1 ounce,
Tinct. of myrrh, 2 drops,
Oil of turpentine, 10 drops.

Mix thoroughly.

Always shake well before using.

Give ten to fifteen drops in cold cofi'ee once or twice
a day.

Spasmodic rroup is a spasmodic closure of the
glottis which interferes with respiration. It comes on
suddenly, and usually at night, w^ithout much warning.
It is a purely nervous disease, and may be caused by
reflex nervous irritation from undigested food in the
stomach or bowels, irritation of the gums in dentition,
or from brain disorders.

Symptoms. — Child awakens suddenly at night with
suspended respiration or very difficult breathing.
After a few respirations it cries out, and then falls
asleep quietly, or the attack may last an hour or so,
when the face will become pale, veins in the neck
become turgid, and feet and hands contract spasmodi-
cally. In mild cases the attacks will only occur once
during the night, but may recur on the following night.

Home Treatment. — During the paroxysm dashing
cold water in the face is a common remedy. To
terminate the spasm and prevent its return give

:H ':•

Hi \ \ ■

250 QUEER QUESTIONS QrAiXTLY ANSWERED.

teaspoonful closes of powdered alum. The syrup of
S4uills is an old and tried remedy; give in fifteen to
tliirty drop doses, and repeat every ten minutes till
vomitinn; occurs. Seek out the cause, if possible, and
remove it. It commonly lies in some derangement of
the digestixe organs.

2' rue Croup. — This disease consists of an inflam-
mation of the mucous meml)rane of the upper air
passages, particularly of the larynx witli the forma-
tion of a false membrane that obstructs the breathing.
The disease is most common in children between the
ages of two and seven years, but it may occur at any
age.

Si/mptom^. — Usually they are symptoms of cold
for three or four days previous to the attack. Marked
hoarseness is observed in the evening with a ringing
metallic cough and some difficult}' in breathing, which
increases and becomes somewhat paroxysmal till the
face which was at first flushed becomes pallid and
ashy in hue. The efforts at breathing become very
great, and unless the child gets speedy relief it will
die of surtbcation.

Home T'lrofnifiif. — Patient should be kept in a
moist warm atmosphere, and cold water applied to
the neck early in the attack. As soon as the breath-
ing seems difficult give half to one teaspoonful of
of powdered alum in honey to produce vomiting and
apply the remedies suggested in the treatment of
diphtheria, as the two diseases are thought by many
to be identical. When the breathinijf becomes labored
and face becomes pallid, the condition is very serious
and a physician should be called without delay.

tHEATMEXT FOR CHILDREN'S DISEASES. 2ol

Scarlet Fever.— An eruptive, conta-lous disease
brou^rhfc about by direct exposure to those having the'
disease, or by contact with clothinu-, dislies, or other
articles used about the sick room.

The clothing may be disinfected by heatin- to a
temperature of 230 Fahrenlieit, or by dipping in boil-
ing water before washing.

Dogs and cats will also carry tlie disease and should
be kept from the house, and particularly from the sick
room.

S>/mptom.s.~C\uny sensations or a decided chill
tever, headache, furred tongue, vomiting, sore throat'
rapid pulse, hot dry skin and more or less stupor.'
In from six to eighteen hours a fine red rash appears
about the ears, neck and shoulders, which rapidly
spreads to the entire surface of the body. After a
few days, a scurf or branny scales will begin to forin
on the skin. These scales are the principal source of
contagion.

Horn. Treat men f. -.Isolate the patient from other
niembers of the family to prevent the spread of the
disease.

Keep the patient in bed and give a fluid diet of
milk gruel, beef tea, etc., with plenty of cold water to
drink.

Control the fever by sponging the body with tepid
water, and relieve the pain in the throat by cold com-
presses applied externally.

As soon as the skin shows a tendency to become
scaly, apply goose grease or clean lard with a little
boracic acid powder dusted in it, or better, perhaps,

Bi:'

:l\ !. .

ii:

;

il-.;

\lr

252 QUEER QUESTION'S QtUlXTLY ANSWERED.

carbolized vaseline to relieve the itching .and prevent
the scales from being scattered about, and snVjjecting
others to the contai^ioii.

Rcgidar J^irofmcnf. — A few drops of aconite every
three hours to regulate the pulse, and if the skin be
pale and circulation feeble, with tardy eruption, ad-
minister one to ten drops of tincture of belladona,
according to the age of the patient. At the end of
third week, if eyes look puffy and feet swell, there is
danger of acute Bright's disease, and a physician
should be consulted. If the case does not progress
well under the home remedies suggested, a physician
should be called at once.

WJioophiij Coiif/h. — This is a contagious disease
which is known by a peculiar whooping sound in the
cough. Considerable mucus is thrown ofi' after each
attack of spasjiiodic coughing.

S>/mpfoms. — It usually commences with the symp-
toms of a common cold in the head, some chilliness,
feverishness, restlessness, headache, a feeling of tight-
ness across the chest, violent paroxysms of coughing,
sometimes almost threatening sufibcation, and accom-
panied with vomiting.

Home Trratnwnf. — Patient should eat plain food
and avoid cold drafts and damp air, but keep in the
open air as much as possible. A strong tea made of
the tops of red clover is highly recommended. A
strong tea made of chestnut leaves, sweetened with
sugar, is also very good.

1 teas))oonful of powdered alum,
1 teaspoonful of syrup.

prevent
bjecting

to every
skill be
ion, ad-
lladona,
i end of
there is
lysician
•rogress
ysician

disease
I in the
er eacli

symp-
lliness,
' tight-
[ghing,
icconi-

1 food
in the
ado of
;d. A
I with

TREATMENT F01{ CHILDREN'S DISEASES. 253

Mix in a tunibler of water, and give the child one
teaspoonful every two or three hours. A k(3rosene
lamp kept biirnino- in the bed cliand)er at night is
said to lessen tlie cough and sliorten the course of the
disease.

Mitmps.~T\uH is a contagious disease causing tlie
inflainmation of the salivary glands, and is generally
a disease of childhood and youth.

Symptoms.— A slight feVer, stiffness of the neck
and lower jaw, swelling and soreness of the gland.
It usually develops in four or five days and then
begins to disappear.

Home Trmt)mn>f.-Ai->p]y to the swelling a hot
poultice of cornmeal and bread and milk. A hop
poultice is also excellent. Take a good dose of physic
and rest carefully. A warm general bath, or mustard
foot-bath, is very good. Avoid exposure or cold
drafts. If a bad cold is taken, serious results may
follow.

Meadr's.~lt is an eruptive, contagious disease
preceded by cough and other catarrhal symptoms for
about four or five days. Tlie eruption comes rapidly
111 small red spots, which are slightly raised.

Si/mptoms.—A feeling of weakness, loss of appetite,
some fever, cold in the head, fre(iuent sneezing, watery
eyes, dry cough, and a hot skin. The disease takes
effect nine or ten days after exposure.

Homr' Treatment—MonHhs is not a dangerous dis-
ease in the child, but in an adult it is often very
serious. In childhood very little medicine is neces-
sary, but exposure must be carefully avoided and the

«■

' .

254 QUEEIl QUESTrON*S QtfAINTLY ANSWERED.

pati<3nt kept in bud in n nKKlonitely warm room. The
diet slioidd ))o li<jjlit and nourislun<^. Keep tlie room
dark. If the ci'uption does not come out promptly,
apply liot baths.

Comntdii Trciihiinif. — Two teaspoonfuls of spirits
of nitre, one teaspoonfnl paref^oric, one wineo-lassful
of camphor water. Mix thoi'onn-hly, and ij;ive a tea-
spoonful in half a teacu])ful of water every two
hours. To relieve the eou((h, if troublesome, flaxseed
tea or infusion of slipper^'-elm bark with a little
lemon juice to render more palatable, will be of
benefit.

Chirh'cn-po.r. — This is a contat^jious, eruptive dis-
ease wdiich resend)les to some extent smallp*,.:. The
pointed vesicles or pimples have a depression in the
centre in chicken-pox, and in smallpox they do not.

Sij)nj)t<>)ns — Nine to seventeen days elapse after
the exposure, before symptoms appear. Slioht fever,
a sense of sickness, the appearance of scattered
pimples some itchino- and heat. The pimples rapidly
change into little blisters tilled with a watery liuid.
After five or six da3^s they disappear.

Home Treatmeiif. — Milk diet and avoid all kinds
of meat. Keep the bowels open and avoid all ex-
posure to cold. Large vesicles on the face should be
punctured early and irritation by rubbing should be
avoided.

DiplitJu'via. — Acute, specific, constitutional disease
with local manifestations in the throat, mouth, nose,
larynx, windpipe, and glands of the neck. The dis-
ease is infectious, but not very contagious under the

TKKATMKXT FOK CIIII.DUKN S DISEASES.

T1h>

'tor
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proper precautions. It is a disease ol" childhood,
tlioiiirh aihdts sonietiiiu's contiviet it. Mnnv of the
best pliysicians of llie day cotisidcM' True or .Mem-
branous Croup to be due to tliis (Uplitheritic meni-
l)ranous disease thus located in the larvnx or trachea.

*S'////</>/o/^<,s'. — Symptoms vaiy according- to the
severity of the attack. CMiills, fever, headache, lan-
guor, loss of appetite, stiffness of neck, with tenderness
about the ano-les of the jaw, soreness of the throat,
pain in the ear, achin*;' of tlie limbs, loss of stren<^th,
coated ton^^'ue, swellino- of the neck, and offensive
Ijreath ; lymphatic *4"lands on side of neck enlarged
and tender. The throat is first to be seen red and
swollen, then covered with grayish white patches,
which spread, and a false meiidn'ane is found on the
mucous membrane. If the nose is attacked, there
will be an offensive discharge, and the child will
breathe through the mouth. If the larynx or throat
are involved, the voice will l)ecome hoarse, and a
croupy cough, with difficult breathing, shows that
the air pai>sage to the lungs is being obstructed by
the false membrane.

Ho]n<' Tr('(ff)iieuf. — Isolate the patient, to prevent
the spread of the disease. Diet should be of the most
nutritious character, as milk, eggs, broths and oysters.
Give at intervals of every two or three hours, if
patient refuses to swallow from the pain caused by
the efibrt, a nutrition injection must be resorted to.
Inhalations of steam and hot water, and allowinii-
the patient to suck pellets of ice, will give relief.
Sponges dipped in hot water and applied to the

CrW^Hr

1 .

I .

250 (,»i:eek c^ukstions (,>rAiNTi.v axswkukd.

fino-les of tlui Jaw uru lu'iieticial. InliulutiuiiH ot" lime,
iiiiide by Hlakin;^ iVeslily burnt liiiio in a vessel, and
(lircctin<^ tbe vapor to tlio cliiM's nioutli by means ol"
a newspapei" oi* similar eontrivance. Flower of sul-
phur, blown into the back of the nioutli and throat
by means ol' a goose (piill has been highly I'ecom-
mende(l. Fre(|uent gargliiif^ of the throat and mouth
with a solution of lactic acid, stronjj: enouiih to taste
sour, will help t<j keep the parts clean and correct the
foul breath. If there is <:^reat prostration, with the
nasal passa^-e affected, or hoarseness and difficult
breathinu^, a physician should be called at once.

A o-ar;^le made of flower of sulphur, dissolved in
water, is very good ; or gargle every hour with a
teaspoonful of baking soda in half a glass of hot
water, followed immediately with a teaspoonful of
tincture of iron in a ([uarter of a glass of hot watei".
When the grayish white patches ])egin to fade the
gargle may be taken every two hours. For diph-
theritic sore throat this is a most I'eliable remedy.

The Siifi>hiir Jidfh. — For the itch, ringworm, itch-
ing, and for other slight skin irritations, bathe in
water containing a little sulphur.

The Self Bath. — To open the pores of the skin, ])ut
a little common salt into the water. Borax, baki
soda, or lime, used in the same way, are excellei >r
cooling and cleansing the skin. A very small qu.iu-
tity in a bowl of water is sufficient.

The Vapoi' Bath. — For catarrh, bronchitis, pleurisy,
inflammation of the lungs, rheumatism, fever, affec-
tions of the Itowels and kidneys, and skin diseases,
the vapor-bath is an excellent remedy.

TIIKATMKNT I'oK CIIII^DHEN S DISEASES.

257

ater.

the

lipli-

•r

;

Ap/niraliis. — Use a small alculiol lamp, ami })Ia('t>
over it a small <lisli eontaininu' water. Liiiht (he
lamp and allow the water to boil, i'lacr a eaiic-
bottom cliair over tlu' lamp, and seat the patient on
it. Wra]) blankets or (piilts aronnd the chair and
around tiie patient, closiii>;- it tightly about the neck.
After free perspiration is produced the patient should
be wrapped in warm blankets, and placed in bed, so
as to continue the perspiration for some time.

A convenient alcohol lamp may be made by taking-
a tin box, placing a tube in it, and putting in a
common lamp wick. Any tinsmith can make one in a
few minutes, at a trilling cost.

T/n' Hot-Ail' lidtli. — Place the alcohol lamp under
the chair, without the disli of water. Then place the
patient on the chair, as in the vapor bath, and let
him remain until a gentle and free perspiration is
produced. This bath may be taken from time t(j
time, as may be deemed necessary.

While remaining in the hot-air bath the patient
may drink fi'eely of cold or tepid water.

As soon as the bath is ovei* the patient should be
washed with hot water and soap.

The hot-air bath is e.Kcellent for colds, skin dis-
eases, and the gout.

The SpoHijc Bath. — Have a large basin of water of
the temperature of 88 or 95 degrees. As soon as the
patient rises, rub the body over with a soft, dry towel
until it becomes warm.

Now sponge the body with water and a little soaj),
at the same time keeping the body well covered,

'••'i

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■ .1 " I

25S QUEER QUESTIONS QUAINTLY ANSWERED.

(3xcept such portions as are necessarily exposed.
Then dry the skin carefully with a soft, warm towel.
Rub the skin well for two or three minutes, until
every part becomes red and perfectly dry.

Sulplmr, lime, or salt, and sometimes mustard, may
be used in any of the sponf^e-baths, according to the
disease.

l^ie Foot BdtJi. — The foot-bath, in coughs, colds,
asthma, headaclies, and fevers, is excellent. One or
two tablespoonfuls of ground mustard added to a
gallon of hot water, is very beneficial.

Heat the water as hot as the patient can endure it,
and gradually increase the temperature by pouring in
additional quantities of hot water during the bath.

The Sifz Biff]i. — A tub is .irranged so that the
patient can sit down in it while bathing. Fill the
tub about one-half full of water. This is an excellent
remed}^ for piles, constipation, headache, gravel, and
for acute and inflammatoiy affections generally.

The Acid Bath. — Place a little vinegar in water,
and heat to the usual temperature. This is an excel-
lent remedy for the disorders of the liver.

A Sure Care for FricJdy Heat. — Prickly heat is
caused by hot weather, b}" excess of flesh, by rough
flannels, by sudden changes of temperature, or by
over- fatigue.

Treatment. — Bathe two or three times a day with
warm water, in which a moderate quantity of bran
and common soda have been stirred. After wiping the
skin dry, dust the affected parts with common corn
starch.

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exposed,
rin towel,
ites, until

tard, may
ing to the

^hs, colds,
. One or
Jded to a

endure it,
pouring in
le bath,
D that the
. Fill the
n excellent
rravel, and
rally.

in water,
s an excel -

:ly heat is
, by rough
ure, or by

a day with
ty of bran
• wiping the
•nunon corn

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