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Usually, as soon as the birth of a child is announced, a basin or tub of hot water is ordered. The washing begins with a “wee bit of rag” and a great cake of perfumed soap purchased long, long before, for the occasion. Then follows wiping with a great linen towel, during which time the creature gets well aired, being indirectly exhibited to as many as have courage to look on and admire “the cunning little thing.”

“The water must be hot, to get off the grease,” said an old nurse. Aye, but with ignorant help would it be surprising if a little of the skin came off first? In more favored circles a nice bath tub is prepared, the water of an equal temperature with the room. Some fine soap is put in to make a suds, which is applied after the surface of the body is oiled. Some cold water adherents persist in using ice-cold water upon a new-born babe, depending on “rubbing it to get up a circulation.” I once knew a divine (divines have rules sometimes) whose customs led him to have his only child washed in this way, and believing in the adage of “the hair of the dog curing the bite,” he continued to doctor it himself for eighteen months; from its birth to its death, with cold water. The babe received a severe cold, stopping up its nostrils and air-tubes, and rendering its little life wholly miserable. To the cause of all this suffering they gave the technical name, Catarrh.