PLEASANT READING

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 177, 29 July 1939, Page 15 (Supplement)

PLEASANT READING

"Doctor's Orders"

I WANT you to read about something else besides murders and other crimes. I want you to give a trial to some of the old favourites, especially before you go to sleep. What about "The Vicar of Wakefield'*? You have not read that for a long time, and it will not do you any harm to read it twice. You must sink into a peaceful slumber with gentle thoughts of green fields and comfortable people and peaceful pastimes. There are some lucky folk who can control their thoughts and guide their minds as a mariner steers his ship. But some of us are less fortunate; however hard we try, we cannot put certain thoughts out of our minds. In that case, a book that introduces fresh ideas and characters to one's notice is a valuable friend. Biscuits by the Bedside You should keep a few biscuits ny your bedside. You may wake up at two or three in the morning and not be able to get to sleep again; to eat a few biscuits brings slumber. Don't make crumbs in the bed, and don't let the crumbs go down the wrong way. A feeling of hunger drives sleep away, the brain gets busy, and sleep is banished. Whatever organ is being used most gets the largest supply of blood. Nature has a marvellous way of regulating the amount of blood that is sent to any part- When you are adding up the house keeping books the extra blood goes to the brain; when you are enjoying the pleasant feeling of fullness after a good meal oil the extra blood i« in the digestive organ*. That is why you feel sleepy alter a

8y... A Family Doctor

meal; the blood goes to the liver and not to the brain. Warm feet and something in the stomach draw blood away from the brain and induce sleep. A hot bath will keep you awake; a tepid bath will make you sleepy. Children and Parents One day I <.hall start a discussion in the papers: "Should little children obsy their parents?" All my well-meant efforts to keep little children healthy are made useless because mothers assure me quite solemnly that little Agnes and Katie will not go to bed. when they .lie told. And, of course, dear mothers, if Agnes says she won't go to bed there is nothing more to be said. This lack of discipline in the homes of England is deplorable. Mothers are eat on by children of six. Any mother who is so incompetent that she has to submit to the authority of a child in the infant's department ought to be deprived of her children. My language is terrible to listen to when mothers coma to me with, sickly children and I discover after a few questions that all that is needed is a little common sense and wholesome care. The Tyrant You think I am joking, but you should come and sit by my aide with children; you would see some examples of mothers that would make your hair curl. Little

Agnes, aged seven, will not go to bed at half-past six, and she will not eat her nice milk pudding, and so she gets thin and has circles under her eyes. Her father is a blacksmith and her mother a washerwoman, but Agnes downs them both. But never mind; let her go to bed as late as she likes, and let her eat any rubbish; let her disobey her mother and undermine her own health; it does not matter —nothing matters so long as 9he drinks something out of a bottle. A Children's Curfew We have to come back to the same dismal <»ld story. I get tired of writing about it, but, sad to relate, you people do not take the slightest notice. Ah, me! Your girl looks pale in the face and dark under the eyes because she does not get sufficient sleep, and yoti spend all your money on a patent medicine. The tonics you buy may contain quinine or strychnine, and they excite and stimulate the brain, which is just what ought to be avoided. Blessed sleep, health-giving sleep! No one knows the true value of sleep. Walk through the streets at ten o'clock or eleven o'clock, and see the small children still wandering about. Oh, for a children's curfew!—any children found in the streets after nine o'clock to be impounded and only restored on the payment of a fine. A Hopeless Struggle Examine a thousand children in the schools, and you will find hundreds suffering from loss of sleep. In the babies' class the little mites often fall asleep, and that is the best thing for them. But the mothers should have seen that they had proper sleep at home, and then their little brains would have heen fresh for

the school. Well have pity on me; it if a hopeless struggle. I say Sleep, and you say Bottle of Stuff, and you beat me all along the line. And all the time the poor child is suffering and sowing the seeds for future breakdowns. . Poor children! Poor me! Only a Half-truth I want you to give your babies a good chance in the struggle for existence. It is useless to try and dissuade me from making this appeal by telling me you are not married. You will be one day, my dear sir. You may have heard that the body is changed every seven years. That is doubtful, and is at best only a half-truth. It is true that every breath we give out makes some change in the constitution of the body. The human organism is to be compared to a whirlpool—a constant stream in and a constant stream out. and yet the whirlpool remains. It would indeed be glorious if we could get a new body every seven years. In 1930 I mijrht have had a consumptive lung, and in 1937 have had a nice new lung. Or I might have had my arm amputated in 1932 «nd be presented with a new one in 1939. Of course it iz not true that we get a new body. What about scars or scalds when a child of throe years old pulls tlie kettle over on to itself? They remain as a life-long mark on the skin. Small-pox marks remain for life, showing that it is the same old body after all.. A Chance for the Chili What a false idea it is that it is safe to sow wild oats in youth, and thnn settle down later in safety to oneself and the married partner! It would be a very different story if we could sow wild oats with body No. 1 and then get married with a brand new body No. 2. No, sir, you bring to the altar the same body that w-as .formerly engaged in the wild oats business—late hours in smoky atmospheres, strong liquors, and women whom you helped to degrade as much a.s they degraded you.