IN comparatively few American homes does the custom prevail of giving the children their meals apart from their parents. Domestic arrangements would be sadly complicated were it common in the ordinary household, as it is in England, to have a separate breakfast served for the little ones in their nursery while the seniors discuss their more elaborate morning repast in their own salle À manger.

Usually, and wisely, American children eat at least two of their meals with their parents, and thus have what benefit may be derived from association with older people. It is only when the father and mother fail to guard against letting the little ones gradually assume the reins of government that affairs reach a point which makes one long to banish the babies to the nursery, or even further, if by such means peace might be secured at meal-times.

Nowhere does the spoiled child appear to worse advantage, or make more of a nuisance of himself, than at the table. His incessant chatter, the constant interruption his appeals for attention make in the conversation of the older people present, his clamorous demands for any article of food which happens to strike his fancy, his loud protests when his wishes are denied him, his slovenly (often disgusting) habits of eating, make the family meal-times a pandemonium and penance to the hapless guest upon whom the youngster has no claims of affection to render his vagaries amusing or interesting.

So long as custom and necessity render it advisable to have a child at the same table with his parents, these should fix upon a plan of action, and adhere to it. Desiring to have their children looked upon as comforts and not as spoil-sports, they should enforce strict obedience, exact quiet at table, and inculcate stringently the once-honored maxim—of late years fallen sadly into disuse and disrepute—that little boys and girls should be seen and not heard. Remembering how much easier it is to check a habit at the outset than to break it off after it is fully formed, the father and mother should watch their children's table manners, and repress at once the carelessness and unpleasant tricks that seem, possibly through original sin, to come naturally to most little folk. The correct handling of spoon, fork, and knife should be taught as soon as they are permitted to use these implements, and slovenliness should be rebuked and held up as a disgrace. Not least in importance is it that the father and mother should, after due consideration, establish an outline of diet for the youngsters, and allow no divergence therefrom.

By "an outline of diet" is not meant an unvarying rotation of viands as wearying and de-appetizing to the child as it would be to his elders, but a scheme of nourishment by which hurtful articles of food will be eliminated from the bill of fare, and only wholesome ones admitted. A great deal of careful thought is often necessary in the formulation of such menus, for children have as many gastric idiosyncrasies as grown people, and frequently these are only disclosed little by little. In illustration of this may be cited the case of a handsome, healthy boy baby who, although a victim to colic during the first months of his life, gave no other evidences of eccentricity of digestion until he was nearly three years old. At that time the mother began to notice that his breath was often sour, and that he complained occasionally of pain in the stomach and bowels. His dietary had always been so simple that she was at first puzzled to understand what could be the disturbing cause. After sundry experiments and careful observation, she finally ascertained that the discomfort and bad breath followed any unusual eating of sweets, although it might be only such simple desserts as bread and syrup, bread and jelly, plain cookies, or home-made sponge-cake, or even an infrequent lump of sugar. She put an embargo upon sweets, and found an almost immediate improvement. Further investigation demonstrated that an occasional indulgence—say once a day—produced no evil consequences, but that more frequent treats of this sort had painful sequelÆ. Her course thereafter was plain and easily followed.

A child's breakfast should always begin with some cereal, but this need not invariably be oatmeal. Other preparations often agree better with the children, and a variety is preferable to the monotonous use of the one kind of porridge. Gruels or porridges of farina, corn-starch, rice-flour, corn-meal, hominy, arrowroot, wheat-germ meal, or cerealine are nearly all relished by the babies, and should be accompanied by milk in any amount, but no sugar. If the child has never been accustomed to the latter, he will eat quite as heartily without it.

If the porridge is properly prepared, the little ones will usually make their chief breakfast from it, with milk or milk-and-water as a beverage. Tea, coffee, or chocolate should be tabooed. The children are better off without any of the three, although some mild preparation of cocoa is probably the least harmful drink they can have other than milk or cold—not iced—water.

As the little people grow older they may have a second course of baked or stewed potato, buttered, dry, or milk toast, a soft-boiled or poached egg, bread and butter, bread and jam, or a little fruit, either fresh or stewed. When they have once become accustomed to seeing older people eating food which is refused them, they will take the denial of certain articles as a matter of course, and rarely think of entering a protest. They will learn that hot bread and griddle-cakes are not meant for little boys and girls, and will take abstinence from meat at breakfast or in the evening, and fried foods or rich desserts at all times, as a matter of course.

At noon, which should be their dinner-time, a more varied diet is permissible. Then there may be soup and some kind of meat for the older children—chicken, rare roast beef, boiled or roast mutton, a piece of steak or a chop—stews entirely freed from grease, potatoes, sweet or white, or some other vegetable, and a plain dessert. It is very little additional trouble to so regulate the bill of fare that what makes the lunch of the "grown-up" may embrace certain articles that will suit the childish stomachs; or there may be a little soup reserved from the dinner of the evening before, a dish of some carefully warmed-over vegetable, possibly a little of last night's meat prepared in a mince or stew, which will obviate the necessity of cooking fresh food for the easily pleased little ones. Often bread and apple-sauce, stewed fruit, or a small portion of fruit jelly or marmalade is as acceptable a dessert as can be provided.

Having eaten these two meals with the family, it is as well to let the younglings have their simple tea by themselves before the family dinner. A dish of soft toast, or a bowl of bread and milk, or of crackers and milk, or of rice and milk, and bread and butter, are usually all they ought to have so soon before their bedtime. They may have a side table set in the dining-room, or a tray may be carried to them in the nursery, and the repast superintended by the mother or nurse. Sometimes papa will come home in time to look in upon his little folks at their final meal, and to help them to settle it afterwards by a romp. Knowing no other mode of life, the children will rarely think of questioning the judgment that sends them to bed early after their light supper, instead of permitting them to sit up to a late, heavy, and indigestible course dinner.