e, he bounded up to
the bedside, and, kissing me, said:

"Thank you, dear mother, for buying me this wagon! You are a good
mother!"

I must own to having felt some doubts on the subject of Neddy's
compliment at the time. Since this little experience, I have been
more careful how I answer the petitions of my children; and avoid
the "May be so," "I'll see about it," and other such evasive answers
that come so readily to the lips. The good result I have experienced
in many instances.

CHAPTER XXV.

"THE POOR CHILD DIED."

MY baby, nine months old, had some fever, and seemed very unwell.
One neighbor said:

"You'd better send for the doctor."

Another suggested that it had, no doubt, eaten something that
disagreed with it, and that a little antimonial wine would enable it
to throw it off; another advised a few grains of calomel, and
another a dose of rheubarb. But I said:

"No. I'll wait a little while, and see if it won't get better."

"You should give him medicine in time. Many a person dies from not
taking medicine in time;" said a lady who expressed more than usual
concern for the well-being of my baby. She had a very sick child
herself.

"Many more die," I replied, "from taking medicine too soon. I
believe that one half of the diseases in the world are produced by
medicines, and that the other half are often made worse by their
injudicious administration."

"You'd better send for the doctor," urged the lady.

"No. I'll wait until the morning, and then, if he's no better, or
should be worse, I'll call in our physician. Children often appear
very sick one hour, and are comparatively well again in the next."

"It's a great risk," said the lady, gravely. "A very great risk. I
called in the doctor the moment my dear little Eddy began to droop
about. And it's well I did. He's near death's door as it is; and
without medical aid I would certainly have lost him before this.
He's only been sick a week, and you know yourself how low he is
reduced. Where do you think he would have been without medicine? The
disease has taken a terrible hold of him. Why, the doctor has bled
him twice; and his little chest is raw all over from a blister. He
has been cupped and leeched. We have had mustard plasters upon his
arms and the calves of his legs. I don't know how many grains of
calomel he has taken; and it has salivated him dreadfully. Oh! such
a sore mouth! Poor child! He suffers dreadfully. Besides, he has
take