try, is the period when it shall be accounted disgraceful for a mother to nurse her own babe. When that time arrives my system must fall to the ground. It is upon the presumption that my readers are among those who glory in the sweetest privilege of nature, and are never more blest "Than whilst their babe, with unpolluted lips, "As nature asks, the vital fountain sips," that I presume to offer my advice; for it is under such circumstances only that a mother can observe all the minutiæ of her child's state of health. Experience has taught me that the babe who was to all appearance well in the morning may droop in the afternoon, be very ill at night, and yet, by proper care and attention, again be well the next morning; when, perhaps, the same babe if ne. glected or improperly treated, would have been seized with fits, or some equally fatal complaint, and possibly have died in less. time. For the truth of this statement I appeal to those who are skilled in those dreadful disorders the quinsy and the croup. It is upon cases similar to this that I ground my hypothesis that every mother is her child's best physician; and how can a mother reconcile her conscience when she consigns this precious little being, given her by Providence to be her comfort through life, and the staff of her declining age, to the care of a stranger, when assured that one day's neglect might deprive her of it for ever, and blast her fondest hopes. "Ah then by duty led, ye nuptial fair, "Not half a mother she, whose pride denies "The streaming beverage to her infant's cries, "Admits another in her rights to share, "Or trusts its nurture to a stranger's care." That there are many instances when the mother's health will not permit her to suckle her child I will allow; but I must believe those cases would less frequently occur if the attempt were persevered in. This I assert from experience in one remarkable 1 instance. My first child had the thrush when about a fortnight old. I had previously suffered great pain from an exuberant flow of milk, and was greatly weakened by it. Now I took the humour from his mouth, and for two months he seldom sucked without throwing up fresh blood afterwards, which he had swallowed with his milk. The torture I endured can better be conceived than described. Many of my friends with tears entreated me to wean my child, and dry away my milk, which, owing to loss of appetite and fever, occasioned by excess of suffering, might then have been done with ease; but my own mother, who watched over me and my babe with more than maternal tenderness, and who, I am convinced, felt all I suffered with redoubled anguish, constantly exhorted me to persevere with fortitude, nor let any thing I endured tempt me to tear my babe from the breast, and by improper food occasion ill health, if not endanger his life; for amidst all my distress I had the inexpressible delight of seeing him thrive surprisingly. I listened to my mother, for my judgment was on her side, and had abundant cause to rejoice that I did so, for the days of affliction passed away as a dream, and left the sweet consciousness of having done my duty as a recompense for suffering; a recompense, how rich, how lasting, how consoling! Had I weakly yielded in the hour of pain, and dried away my milk, it is more than probable, from the bad state the humours were then in, some unnatural contractions would have taken place, and not only that child but all my succeeding family would have suffered from it. Therefore I entreat every mother to undergo every thing short of death or lasting disease, rather than refuse to suckle her child. There are now many useful inventions for drawing out the milk, which were not in general use when I was so afflicted; and if it can be drawn out with sucking glasses, and the babe fed with it for a few days in cases similar to the one related above, it will without doubt be far better both for mother and child: upon this plan the milk may be preserved; for it is a fact that while the babe is nourished by it, it will continue to flow, let it be obtained from the breast how it may; whereas, if it is drawn out and thrown away, the mother will have less and less until it eventually dries away entirely.* It may not be amiss to mention here, for the benefit of the afflicted, that the remedy I eventually found most efficacious in this distressing complaint was white lead. After * This statement may perhaps excite a smile of incredulity in the learned reader, because the fact cannot be accounted for on any known principles. Facts, however, are not made by theory, but theory created by facts. If the fact that a mother's milk will cease to flow when it is thrown away, and continue to flow when given to her babe, is derided by the learned, it will only meet the fate of discoveries every way more important. The same thing has always happened. An operation of nature is noticed by the vulgar: if the learned cannot account for it, those who credit it are derided as weak and credulous, and its existence is denied; but when it can be no longer denied, the learned set down seriously to account for it; they publish their reveries; and this is called theory. The sneer of derision is then on the other side; and those who do not at once admit the fact and the theory are ranked among the weak and the vulgar. I believe in the existence of this fact; and if it can derive support from analogy, I appeal to every observing dairy woman if the same does not happen in the management of her milch-kine. B |