Tea, coffee, chocolate, small beer, soda water, lemonade, &c., which are nearly all water, quench the thirst very well, it is true; but not quite so well as water alone would.  The narcotic principle of the first two, the alcoholic principle of the fourth, and the mucilage, nutriment, acid, and alkali of the rest, are in the way; for thirst would be quenched still better without them, even when it is of an unnatural kind.

Indeed, the same or similar remarks may be made in regard to all other mixtures which are usually proposed as drinks.  Even milk and water, molasses and water, &c., in favor of which so much is said, are objectionable, as mere drinks.  Not that they contain anything poisonous, but they evidently contain nutriment; and even this, except as a part or the whole of a regular meal, does harm; for it sets the stomach at work when it needs repose.  Mere drink, as I have already said, is never digested.

But if the drinks above mentioned, and even milk and water, are objectionable, what shall we say of cider, wine, and ardent spirits?—­substances which contain, the latter one half, and the two former from one twentieth to one fourth alcohol.  Surely, nobody will deny that these substances ought, at all events, to be banished from the nursery.  And yet we occasionally find them there, not only for the use of the mother, to the ruin of the child, indirectly—­but also, in some of their smoother forms, for the use of the child itself.

I would not lay too much stress on food and drink; for, as I have already observed, more than once, the causes of infantile ill health and mortality are numerous.  Still I must insist that, of all the sources of disease, these are the most prolific.  Much is done towards ruining the health of children by the improper food and drink of the mother.  But when, in addition to all this, the children themselves are early fed with animal food, and with stimulating drinks—­punch, coffee, tea, &c.—­and an artificial thirst is early excited and rendered habitual, their destruction, for time and eternity, is almost inevitable.

Very few children relish any drink but water, or sweetened water, at first; and where they do, it is probably hereditary.  I have been struck with their tastes and preferences; nor less with the folly of those around them, in endeavoring to change them, by requiring them—­almost always against their will—­to sip a little coffee, or a little tea, or a little lemonade; or, it may be, a little toddy.  Such children may escape the death of the drunkard or the debauchee; but if they do, it will not be through the instrumentality of the parents.