[Sidenote:  Music.]

NOTE.—­The effect of music upon the sick has been scarcely at all noticed.  In fact, its expensiveness, as it is now, makes any general application of it quite out of the question.  I will only remark here, that wind instruments, including the human voice, and stringed instruments, capable of continuous sound, have generally a beneficent effect—­while the piano-forte, with such instruments as have no continuity of sound, has just the reverse.  The finest piano-forte playing will damage the sick, while an air, like “Home, sweet home,” or “Assisa a pie d’un salice,” on the most ordinary grinding organ, will sensibly soothe them—­and this quite independent of association.

FOOTNOTES: 

[1] [Sidenote:  Burning of the crinolines.]

Fortunate it is if her skirts do not catch fire—­and if the nurse does not give herself up a sacrifice together with her patient, to be burnt in her own petticoats.  I wish the Registrar-General would tell us the exact number of deaths by burning occasioned by this absurd and hideous custom.  But if people will be stupid, let them take measures to protect themselves from their own stupidity—­measures which every chemist knows, such as putting alum into starch, which prevents starched articles of dress from blazing up.

[Sidenote:  Indecency of the crinolines.]

I wish, too, that people who wear crinoline could see the indecency of their own dress as other people see it.  A respectable elderly woman stooping forward, invested in crinoline, exposes quite as much of her own person to the patient lying in the room as any opera dancer does on the stage.  But no one will ever tell her this unpleasant truth.

[2] [Sidenote:  Never speak to a patient in the act of moving.]

It is absolutely essential that a nurse should lay this down as a positive rule to herself, never to speak to any patient who is standing or moving, as long as she exercises so little observation as not to know when a patient cannot bear it.  I am satisfied that many of the accidents which happen from feeble patients tumbling down stairs, fainting after getting up, &c., happen solely from the nurse popping out of a door to speak to the patient just at that moment; or from his fearing that she will do so.  And that if the patient were even left to himself, till he can sit down, such accidents would much seldomer occur.  If the nurse accompanies the patient, let her not call upon him to speak.  It is incredible that nurses cannot picture to themselves the strain upon the heart, the lungs, and the brain, which the act of moving is to any feeble patient.

[3] [Sidenote:  Careless observation of the results of careless Visits.]

As an old experienced nurse, I do most earnestly deprecate all such careless words.  I have known patients delirious all night, after seeing a visitor who called them “better,” thought they “only wanted a little amusement,” and who came again, saying, “I hope you were not the worse for my visit,” neither waiting for an answer, nor even looking at the case.  No real patient will ever say, “Yes, but I was a great deal the worse.”