remarks, that early
walking may be a choice of evils; and that if it _is_ on the whole
advantageous to adults, it cannot be less so to children. And as soon as
the sun has chased away the vapors of the night, if the weather is
tolerable, most children should be carried abroad.

SEC. 4. _The Bed._

This should never be of feathers. There are many reasons for this
prohibition, especially to the feeble.

1. They are too warm. Infants should by all means be kept warm enough,
as I have all along insisted. But excess of heat excites or stimulates
the skin, causing an unnatural degree of perspiration, and thus inducing
weakness or debility.

2. When we first enter a room in which there is a feather bed which has
been occupied during the night, we are struck with the offensive smell
of the air. This is owing to a variety of causes; one of which probably
is, that beds of this kind are better adapted to absorb and retain the
effluvia of our bodies. But let the causes be what they may, the effects
ought, if possible, to be avoided; for both experience and authority
combine to pronounce them very injurious.

3. Feather beds--if used in the nursery--will inevitably discharge more
or less of dust and down; both of which are injurious to the tender
lungs of the infant.

Mattresses are better for persons of every age, than soft feather beds.
They may be made of horse hair or moss; but hair is the best. If the
mattress does not appear to be warm enough for the very young infant, a
blanket may be spread over it. Dr. Dewees says that in case mattresses
cannot be had, "the sacking bottom" may be substituted, or "even the
floor;" at least in warm weather: "for almost anything," he adds, "is
preferable to feathers."

Macnish, in his "Philosophy of Sleep," objects strongly to air beds, and
says that he can assert "from experience," that they are the very worst
that can possibly be employed. My theories--for I have had no experience
on the subject--would lead me to a similar conclusion. A British
writer of eminence assures us that the higher classes in Ireland, to a
considerable extent, accustom themselves and their infants to sleep on
bags of cut straw, overspread with blankets and a light coverlid; and
that the custom is rapidly finding favor. I have slept on straw, both in
winter and summer, for many years, yet I am always warm; and those who
know my habits say I use less _covering_ on my bed than almost any
individual whom they