I have seen some poor people in the country make it with a stale piece of bread, previously well dried and lightly toasted before the fire, and you could scarcely tell the difference from rusks; and you must observe, that people in a country village cannot always supply themselves with everything in the way of luxury; but look at the greater part of those country urchins,—are they not a real picture of health? for, after all, nothing is more advantageous to a delicate child than country air and country food. When Mr. B. and myself were staying at Boulogne for a few weeks, I was astonished to hear that everybody used to put their children out to nurse. I was so surprised, that I made every inquiry, and found it literally true, that even respectable tradespeople sent their children a mile or two in the country, some to the houses of very poor people: I cannot say that I approve of such a style of bringing up infants, but even there they seem as healthy and as joyful as possible. I also found there something to be learned, and that was, how to make French pap, which I think very nutritious, but which I considered at the time rather heavy for our climate; but having afterwards made a trial of it upon our little Henry, I found him doing so extremely well, that I continued feeding him upon it for nearly eight months, until he was old enough to eat other food. The following is the receipt:
47. —Put a tablespoonful of flour into a pap saucepan, to which add by degrees two gills of milk, mixing it into a very smooth batter with a wooden spoon; place the saucepan upon the fire, let it boil ten minutes, keeping it stirred the whole time, or it is liable to burn or become brown, then add about half an ounce of sugar and a little salt, put it into a basin, and it is ready for use. A little butter is also very good in it.
You will observe, that it is more difficult and troublesome to make than our pap; but when used to it, you will expend no more time over it; and, as the French people say, cooking is all pleasure and no trouble. But what convinces me that it is more palatable and nutritious is, that I have seen a very robust man make a hearty dinner of two plates of it by introducing bread in it. I have no doubt that our own hasty pudding was taken from it, for the use of children of three or four years old, being thought too heavy for infants. These long details may appear rather insignificant and tedious to you, but I leave them to your good judgment, begging of you to curtail my remarks should you think proper; but, although you may consider that every person is acquainted with these domestic habits, you would find upon inquiry that very many persons neglect them almost entirely. Having written thus much upon the food of infants, we must next consider the proper diet for children of twelve months old, commencing with bread and milk.
48. —For which, cut about two ounces of any white bread into small thin slices, which put into a small basin or a large breakfast cup, in a little saucepan (only used for that purpose) have half a pint of milk, which, when upon the point of boiling, pour over the bread; cover the cup over five minutes, and it is ready for use.
I much prefer this method to that of boiling the bread and milk together. In first commencing to feed a child upon the above, I always added a little sugar, which I withdrew by degrees, as I do not like to accustom children to too much sweets, as it inclines them when a little older to be always wanting or eating sweet stuff, which often spoils the best set of teeth; and here let me remark, that the finest fortune you can give to your children is health, and as loving mothers, whilst we have them under our control, it is our duty to study their little comforts, and direct their first steps in life in the road of happiness.
49. Porridge.—When children are delicate, porridge is often preferable to bread and milk. Put two tablespoonfuls of Scotch grits or oatmeal in the milk saucepan, which moisten with half a pint of milk; let it boil ten minutes, keeping well stirred, add a small piece of butter and a little sugar, and it is ready for use.
When my children were about eighteen months or two years old, I used to give them a little tender meat, such as boiled mutton, and broth, but in very small quantities, keeping still for the general food the bread and milk and porridge; but now they are old enough to eat anything wholesome (one being nine and the other ten years of age), their meals are composed thus:
50. —Bread and milk for breakfast at eight; the dinner at one, which was composed as follows throughout the week: roast mutton and apple pudding, roast beef and currant pudding, baked apples; boiled mutton with turnips, after which rice or vermicelli pudding; occasionally a little salt beef, with suet dumplings, plain and with currants in them, or pease pudding; or if unwell, a little veal or chicken-broth, or beef-tea (the receipts for which will be found in the series entitled Comforts for Invalids).
When in business, the first three years we could not afford to keep a nursery, in fact, we had no room to spare; the children then used to dine with us at one, but at a side-table with their nurse.
51. —They then had a little plain meat, cut small in their plates, with potatoes, pieces of bread, and gravy, after which, three times a week, plain rice, bread, or other plain pudding, or rhubarb or apple tart; and, at five o’clock, their bread and milk again, previous to going to bed.
But if for people who could afford it, I should recommend the following diet-table, for nurserymaid and all:
52. —First, about two pounds of mutton well-cooked, but with the real gravy of the meat in it, which will require about one hour before a moderate fire, dredge it ten minutes before being done; when taken up and in the dish, sprinkle a little salt over the meat, and pour over three or four spoonfuls of hot water to make a little light gravy.
Many persons will, I am aware, quite disapprove of this system of washing the meat: they would serve it as if it were for full-grown people, but you well know what would do for children as well as I—plain, simple, and wholesome food; I always carried out this system, and I now make my cook do the same.
53. —Then the next day I would give them a small piece of mutton, plain boiled, with turnips, and apple tart; or a few slices of roast beef, or a small piece roasted on purpose, after which a very plain currant pudding; or, occasionally, a little pickled pork, with pease pudding, or roast pork, with baked apples, and now and then a little salt beef, but very well boiled, with suet dumplings, and occasionally, for change, either bread, vermicelli, or tapioca puddings; in case of illness, and with the approbation of the doctor, veal, mutton, or chicken-broth, sago, gruel, panada, &c., for which refer to the receipts for invalids.
Now the more I write the more I am convinced that, for the method of preparing certain articles for the children’s dinners, we must refer to the kitchen department of receipts and receipts for invalids, especially as regards broth, meat, puddings, &c., or otherwise we should have so many repetitions; so that it would be better, upon the completion of the journal, to make references, either by numbers of receipt or page; it will be more intelligible, and less confused.
Many people would, perhaps, imagine that there is too much variety of food for children; but it is quite the contrary, for change of food is to the stomach what change of air is to the general health, but, of course, with children, those changes must be effected with judgment, and their food administered in smaller quantities; but you must observe when children are well brought up with regard to their meals, they possess extraordinary organs of digestion, the proof of which is that they require feeding oftener than a full-grown person, and never appear to be tired of eating, thus, of course, they do not require such quantities at a time. Having here terminated my remarks upon the Nursery, I shall leave this scene of romp and confusion, to walk on tip-toe to the sick-room door, and carefully enter, without noise, into this mournful abode of human suffering and captivity, in hopes that, by watching over their diet, my small efforts may improve their comforts, which, by being properly managed, may assist in their restoration to health. I shall, therefore, proceed to give some receipts, entitled Comforts for Invalids.
Nothing is to me more painful than to see any food ill-prepared for sick people, where the sense of taste is partially gone; everything ordered by the doctors as food, should be cooked in the greatest perfection, especially as everything