assured me that while a child's
bones were soft it was not safe to lift it in any other way. These
bags are comparatively modern, and have succeeded the swaddling
clothes still used in some parts of Germany. They are bandages
wrapping the child round like a mummy, and imprisoning its arms as
well as its legs. A German doctor told me that as these _Wickelkinder_
had never known freedom they did not miss it; but he seemed to approve
of the modern compromise that leaves the upper limbs some power of
movement.

Well-to-do German mothers rarely nurse their children. When you ask
why, you hear of nerves and anaemia, and are told that at any rate in
cities women find it impossible. I have seen it stated in a popular
book about Germany that mothers there are little more than "aunts" to
their children; and the _Steckkissen_ and the foster-mother were about
equally blamed for this unnatural state of affairs. From our point of
view there is not a word to be said in favour of the _Steckkissen_,
but it really is impossible to believe that a bag lined with wadding
can undermine a mother's affection for her child. Your German friends
will often show you a photograph of a young mother holding her baby in
her arms, and the baby, if it is young enough, will probably be in its
bag. But unless you look closely you will take the bag for a long
robe, it hangs so softly and seems so little in the mother's way. It
will be as dainty as a robe too, and when people have the means as
costly; for you can deck out your bag with ribbons and laces as easily
as your robe. The objection to foster-mothers has reality behind it,
but the evils of the system are well understood, and have been much
discussed of late. Formerly every mother who could afford it hired one
for her child, and peasant women still come to town to make money in
this way. But the practice is on the wane, now that doctors order
sterilised milk. The real ruler of a German nursery is the family
doctor. He keeps his eye on an inexperienced mother, calls when he
sees fit, watches the baby's weight, orders its food, and sees that
its feet are kept warm.

A day nursery in the English sense of the word is hardly known in
Germany. People who can afford it give up two rooms to the small fry,
but where the flat system prevails, and rents are high, this is seldom
possible. One room is usually known as the _Kinderstube_, and here the
children sleep and play. But it must be remembered that rooms