HARRIET MARTINEAU. 485 soon after it was born, was sent out of the way to a wet- nurse in the country, who nearly starved her to death, having an insufficiency of milk,. and being unwilling to lose the charge of the child by telling the truth. Her deafness and her bad health during the first third of her life were always ascribed by her mother to this starva- tion. The story of her childhood is almost incomprehensible to American parents, who are apt to watch their children with even an excessive care and tenderness. Her parents seemed never to have suspected what she suffered, nor did she ever have confidence enough in them to attempt to make known to them her miseries. Milk, for example, always disagreed with her, and to such a degree that she had " a horrid lump at her throat for hours every morn- ing, and the most terrible oppression in the night." Nevertheless, as English children are always fed upon milk, she continued to drink it morning and night, with- out mentioning her sufferings, until she was old enough to drink tea, which, in England, is usually about the six- teenth year. How amazing is this ! On what strange terms children must live with their elders where such a thing could be! During all her childhood she was tormented by fear and shame. She was afraid of everything and everybody. Sometimes, at the head of the stairs, she would be panic- stricken, and feel sure she could never get down. In going a few steps into the garden she would be afraid to look behind her, dreading an imaginary wild beast. She was afraid of the star-lighted sky, having an awful dread of its coming down upon her, crushing her, and remaining upon her head. She was afraid of persons, and declares that, to the best of her belief, she never met with an individual whom she was not afraid of until she was six- teen years of age. The exhibition of a magic lantern was
