There is a language in the cry of an infant which a thoughtful medical man can well interpret. The cry of hunger, for instance, is very characteristic,—it is unaccompanied with tears, and is a wailing cry; the cry of teething is a fretful cry; the cry of ear-ache is short, sharp, piercing, and decisive, the head being moved about from side to side, and the little hand being often put up to the affected side of the head; the cry of bowel-ache is also expressive,—the cry is not so piercing as from ear-ache, and is an interrupted, straining cry, accompanied with a drawing up of the legs to the belly; the cry of bronchitis is a gruff and phlegmatic cry; the cry of inflammation of the lungs is more a moan than a cry; the cry of croup is hoarse, and rough, and ringing, and is so characteristic that it may truly be called "the croupy cry," moreover, he breathes as though he breathed through muslin; the cry of inflammation of the membranes of the brain is a piercing shriek—a danger signal—most painful to hear; the cry of a child recovering from a severe illness is a cross, and wayward, and tearful cry; he may truly be said to be in a quarrelsome mood; he bursts out without rhyme or reason into a passionate flood of tears; tears are always, in a severe illness, to be looked upon as a good omen, as a sign of amendment: tears, when a child is dangerously ill, are rarely if ever seen; a cry at night, for light—a frequent cause of a babe crying—is a restless cry:
"An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry."
111. If an infant be delicate, have you any objection to his having either veal or mutton broth to strengthen him?
Broths seldom agree with a babe at the breast. I have known them to produce sickness, disorder the bowels, and
