BABY’S NERVES AND THEIR CAUSES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3861, 13 March 1928, Page 73

BABY’S NERVES AND THEIR CAUSES.

By

May Mackenzie.

The other day a friend of mine explained how, quite by accident, she discovered that her little son was terrified of spiders. Seeing this, she picked up a spider and tried to coax him to look at it, but he drew back, “ No, mummy, I’m sorry, but I can t.” She tried various ways of curing him, until one day she said, “ You’ll never be a man at this rate; little Marie isn’t afraid of spiders.” Little Marie is Dick’s baby sister, and when Mary was promptly put to the test he looked rather down. That finished him. At last mother succeeded. There are many forms of nerves, and some are a source of worry, especially to . the young mother. Kiddies grow irritable and give a great deal of trouble. Also, they are afraid to be left alone, and their health suffers in consequence. When a child has not had enough healthy outdoor exercise it cannot sleep, but lies night after night tossing and turning, and, as is to be expected, becomes nervous and fears the dark. Kiddies should be healthily tired and enjoy their sleep if they have had plenty of fresh air and exercise. Then, again, they should have a healthy bedroom, well ventilated, without being draughty. It must seem sweet and fresh to a tired child, and contain bright, happy colours. * * * A kiddie once said to me, ct I like your yellow flowers; they are so pretty, they make me feel happy.” I find on tKe whole that yellow attracts and brightens young children perhaps more than any other colour. Even a bow of yellow ribbon placed here and there will woik wonders, but don’t sacrifice a healthy bedroom for the sake of yards of lace, and hangings. It only collects dust, and makes more work for the busy mother. If your kiddies’ bedroom resembles a ward with a touch or two of bright colours, you are a wise mother. Children should be acquainted with the dark right from the. beginning, and, if possible, persuaded to blow out their own night light. A good story explaining why the wind howls, etc., will often disperse their fear of this. Some children are naturally shy of animals, so don’t, when baby cries, say, “You mustn’t cry, you’ll have that big doggie bite you,” as I once heard a mother say. Remember, nerves begin in the nursery, but, in nine cases out of ten,-they could be stopped in the nursery.—Glasgow Weekly Herald. TO THE WORN-OUT MOTOR CAR. Good-bye, old bus! A fond farewell! The junk man has you now. You’ve earned your rest; I hate to sell Your carcass, I allow. I ought to turn you out to grass In some delightful clime, With not a thing to do but pa~s An endless summertime. For nine long, years you’ve rolled about This Western hemisphere Without complaint, along the route Wherever I might steer. My boon companion you have been, In courtship- and in marriage. My moving van ! My medicine ! Of late, my baby carriage! And every day, at work or play, With fortitude deserving, You’ve helped me in your humble way Of ceaseless, tireless serving. The junk man soon may strew you far , Your parts he may dissever; But the spirit of the motor car Goes on and on, forever. And so I sing this little lay In due appreciation Of what the auto means to-day, lo me, and to the nation. —Bill Tar, in the Lariat. UNEXPECTED TRIALS. By A Bride. Our house is just perfect, ■’.nd the wedding presents helped to furnish it beautifully, instead of being white elephants as some people’s are. Tom and I were not embarrassed by. being given 20 silver saltcellars and no teaspoons, or five toast-racks when we were pining for a coal scuttle. So I thought everything would be plain sailing, but it wasn’t! I got lots of small shocks. * * * For our first dinner when we got back from our honeynroon we had neither pepper nor mustard! I seemed to imagine that such things grew in a cupboard, and it wasn’t until I began to lay the table that I realised that both those condiments were still in the grocer’s possession instead of in mine. _ Next day Tom wanted some string, and I couldn’t find even a scrap. Before mv marriage I lived with an aunt, and string was one of her pet' economies. She untied every knot, and made a ball of all the pieces of string, even the tiniest. When she helped me to arrange furniture and unpack presents the fad must have been too much for her and she evidently carried off all the string. So I had to buy a ball of. it, and I’d never done such a thing before. Then I had always been in the habit of discussing the daily menu with Aunt Meg l. £ ut _ w hen I asked Tom what he would like for dinner, he just said, “Oh!

any old thing.” I soon found he really • disliked being asked, so I gave it up, but it’s curious how much longer it takes you to arrange meals if you have nobody to fall back upon if your own brain doesn't seem to work. Aiy last shock came yesterday. I decided to jam, and I had the an d ,e su J ar > but no jam jars! lhere were always dozens of empty ones on the top shelf of the cupboard at'home, but even the marmalade jar in our cupboard wasn’t quite empty. I was determined to make that jam, so there was only one course open to me. But you can t think how I hated buying those jam jars!—Exchange. IGNORANCE. Because I praise your beauty, ignorance Makes mock of me, and calls' my sonnets lies. Not that he sees no beauty in your glance; Not that he finds no wit in your replies; Not that he’s blind, or sees no grace in youth; Not that he’s old, or envious, or mad; He slanders not your beauty, but my truth, Saying, “ She has what youth has always had.” Then do not blame him, poor unfortunate ; One of the many in his eyes you are: He never loved you—thus, in his sad fate, A girl is only a girl, a star a star. Ah, but to me the stars are whirling spheres. ° I sing their music. He lacks eyes and ears. —Frank Kendon, in the London Mercury. QUARRIES OF CARRARA. A little beyond Ruosina, the first village on our way, we left the Royal Mail and the main highway for a narrow road that leads off to the left in the direction of Monte Forato, where, I was told, I should see what is probably the strangest freak of nature amid these fantastic hills. We were now consigned to the kindly offices of a pair of mules. Our path led in a zigzag direction, turning back upon itself every now and again in deep loops, so that one traverses several kilometres without making more than one kilometre of direct progress. But the journey was well worth its pains. One passes through one tunnel after another carved out of the solid rock, winding and mounting higher and higher until the plain above Terinca is reached. Here it is that one gets the most typical view of the marble mountains. The hillsides are no longer clothed -with verdure or vegetation of any sort. As far as the eye can reach there is nothing but a tumult of jagged rocks that look like snow-capped peaks, which appearance, however, is due to the reflection of the sun’s rays on the white marble. The strangest sight of all is that which Monte Forato presents. It has a pair of towering horns, each about 3000 ft high, and through the body of the crest that unites these peaks a tunnel of about 100 ft high and 80ft wide has been bored by some freak of nature. It looks like a monstrous Polyphemus, with its single eye in the centre of the brow, and its cyclopean horns protruding from either side.

The whole view is astounding. These glowing peaks have not that aspect of majestic repose which one finds on the undulating Apennines, nor the sublime grandeur of the Dolomites or the Engadine. Here it does not seem as if one were contemplating a mighty handiwork of nature, but rather the result of a terrible explosion that must have cast up from beneath the crest of the earth the broken columns of some titanic temple whose halls and porticoes and statues and altars were all made of precious stone.—James Murphy, in the Windsor Magazine.

; and has contributed to the beauty and comfort of her home and the well-being of her family. Instead of having done too mt ch in the way of promoting the sale o. things representative of new ideas, a 'vertising has not yet done nearly enough. The standard of living of most of our people, including the middle classes, « not so high as it ought to be ' not so high as the standard prevailing in Canada, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand, and the United States. Many things now regarded as necessaries in those countries are still in' the nature of novelties here at home. That is a condition that advertising is doing much to improve.—Charles Holt Stirrup, in Chambers’s Journal. PRAYER TO PERSEPHONE. Be to her, Persephone, All the things I might not be; Take her head upon your knee She that was so proud and wild, Flippant, arrogant, and free, She that had no need of me, Is the little lonely child Lost in Hell—Persephone. Take her head upon your knee; Say to her, “ My dear, my dear, It is not so dreadful here.” —Edna H. Vincent Millay, in April Sowing.

WEDDINGS. It is always a mystery to me why people spend so much money over weddings. Do they do it to please themselves, u , to they do it to please their guests, or do they do it to secur e wedding presents for the bridal couple? Because it does not seem to me that what is known as a “ big wedding ” gives much pleasur e to anybody except the firm of caterers who make much money thereby. I have never known yet a bridegroom who did not plead for a quiet wedding and no fuss—he doesn’t want the big wedding. And as for the wedding presents, all the friends who are fond of bride or bridegroom will send them some token of friendship, so do the mere acquaintances matter much ? I believe frequently it is the bride’s mother who insists on a crowded church and a still more crowded reception, with the bride in magnificent array, and lots of bridesmaids to follow her. It has long been a fetish in women’s eyes, and she hardly considers that her daughter would be properly married without it.—“ Friend in Town,” in a Scottish paper. DOWN IN THE BASEMENT. One day, no doubt, some enterprising person will offer a prize for London’s best area garden. I make the suggestion now to al] thos e who, like myself, have been struck by the surprising results achieved with these gardens “ down below ” (says a Daily Chronicle writer). You see these little gardens flourishing in all parts of London, in all sorts of districts, but the best are to be found in the areas of big residential houses and of blocks of warehouses and offices. I came upon unexpected area gardens in several city streets, in Chancerv lane, by Trafalgar. square, in Great Cumberland placed and in Belgrave square. It is a branch of metropolitan gardening which is equally important with r ‘ the decay of window boxes ” and “ the growing popularity of roof, gardens.” When people lament that London window boxes have not returned to their prewar glory, it is well to ask them if they have noticed the success that attends these area gardens. Often the only soil visible in the paving is a coup] e of square feet, but from this will , spring a climber that half covers a huse. Ivy and Virginia creeper ara popular area plants. So are the aucuba and--the fig tree, and in one of the most fashionable squares I saw a wistaria of quite dimensions. > There are some most promising dahlia plants, too, growing in an area not far from the National Gallery. NOTH’NC GOLD CAN STAY, Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; Biit only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, j? So dawn goes down to-day, I Nothing gold can stay. —Robert Frost, in the Yale Review. ?■