he is more or less familiar;
but how many books has he read on the management of infancy and
childhood? The fattening properties of oil-cake, the relative values of
hay and chopped straw, the dangers of unlimited clover, are points on
which every landlord, farmer, and peasant has some knowledge; but what
percentage of them inquire whether the food they give their children is
adapted to the constitutional needs of growing boys and girls? Perhaps
the business-interests of these classes will be assigned as accounting
for this anomaly. The explanation is inadequate, however; seeing that
the same contrast holds among other classes. Of a score of townspeople,
few, if any, would prove ignorant of the fact that it is undesirable to
work a horse soon after it has eaten; and yet, of this same score,
supposing them all to be fathers, probably not one would be found who
had considered whether the time elapsing between his children's dinner
and their resumption of lessons was sufficient. Indeed, on
cross-examination, nearly every man would disclose the latent opinion
that the regimen of the nursery was no concern of his. "Oh, I leave all
those things to the women," would probably be the reply. And in most
cases the tone of this reply would convey the implication, that such
cares are not consistent with masculine dignity.

Regarded from any but a conventional point of view, the fact seems
strange that while the raising of first-rate bullocks is an occupation
on which educated men willingly bestow much time and thought, the
bringing up of fine human beings is an occupation tacitly voted unworthy
of their attention. Mammas who have been taught little but languages,
music, and accomplishments, aided by nurses full of antiquated
prejudices, are held competent regulators of the food, clothing, and
exercise of children. Meanwhile the fathers read books and periodicals,
attend agricultural meetings, try experiments, and engage in
discussions, all with the view of discovering how to fatten prize pigs!
We see infinite pains taken to produce a racer that shall win the Derby:
none to produce a modern athlete. Had Gulliver narrated of the Laputans
that the men vied with each other in learning how best to rear the
offspring of other creatures, and were careless of learning how best to
rear their own offspring, he would have paralleled any of the other
absurdities he ascribes to them.

The matter is a serious one, however. Ludicrous as is the an