er children medicine at least two, or
three times a year, whether they were sick or well. Prevention, in
her eyes, was better than cure. And where there was actual sickness,
she was in favor of vigorous treatment. One good dose of medicine
would do more good than a hundred little ones; with much more to the
same effect.

On the next morning, my dear baby, who was just as sick for a few
hours as Mrs. Lee's child was at first, was as well as ever.

Not long after breakfast, I was sent for by Mrs. Lee. Her poor child
was much worse. The servant said that she was sure it was dying. I
changed my dress hurriedly, and went over to the house of my
neighbor.

Shall I describe the painful object that met my sight? It was three
days since I had seen the little sufferer; but, oh! how it had
changed in that brief time. Its face was sunken, its eyes far back
in their sockets, and its forehead marked with lines of suffering.
The whole of its breast was raw from the blister, and its mouth,
lying open, showed, with painful distinctness, the dreadful injury
wrought by the mercury thrown, with such a liberal hand, into its
delicate system. All the life seemed to have withdrawn itself from
the skin; for the vital forces, in the centre of its body, were
acting but feebly.

The doctor came in while I was there. He said but little. It was
plain that he was entirely at fault, and that he saw no hope of a
favorable issue. All his, "active treatment" had tended to break
down the child, rather than cure the disease from which it at first
suffered. There was a great deal of heat about the child's head, and
he said something about having it shaved for a blister.

"Wouldn't ice do better, doctor?" I felt constrained to suggest. He
turned upon me quickly and seemed annoyed.

"No, madam!" he replied with dignity.

I said no more, for I felt how vain my words would be. The blister,
however, was not ordered; but, in its stead, mustard plasters were
directed to be placed over the feet and legs to the knees, and a
solution of iodine, or iron, I don't now remember which, prescribed,
to be given every half hour.

I went home, some time after the doctor left, feeling sick at heart.
"They are murdering that child," I could not help saying to myself.
My own dear babe I found full of health and life; and I hugged it to
my breast with a feeling of thankfulness.

Before the day closed, Mrs. Lee's poor child died. Was it a cause of
wonder?

CH