These are facts known to all, which yet it is not easy to represent by figures. All the world is aware that consumption is hereditary, that consumptive parents are more likely than others to have consumptive children; and a fourth of all the patients admitted into the Hospital for Consumption at Brompton stated that the disease had existed in one or other of their parents.[1] Scrofula, which is another disease closely allied to consumption, is hereditary also; and hip disease, disease of the spine, abscesses, and enlarged glands in any members of a family, point to risks for the offspring which should not be forgotten, how much soever mental endowments, personal beauty, or the charms of disposition may be considered, and sometimes reasonably enough, to outweigh them. The same liability exists with reference to epilepsy, insanity, and the whole class of affections of the nervous system. Parents inquire, with no misplaced solicitude, what is her fortune, or what are the pecuniary resources of him to whom they are asked to entrust their son's or daughter's future. Believe me, the question--what is the health of his family, or of hers? is consumption hereditary, or scrofula, or epilepsy, or insanity?--is of far greater moment, and touches much more nearly the future happiness of those we love. These two points regard the future parents themselves; but there are other conditions on which the health of children to a great degree depends; and of these the two most important are the _dwelling_ they inhabit, and the _food_ they eat. I do not refer here to the dwellings of the poor, situated in unhealthy localities, where fresh air does not enter, where the rays of the sun do not penetrate, with defective drainage and imperfect water-supply; but I speak of the nurseries of well-to-do people. 'This will do for our bedroom, and that will make a nice spare room, and that will do for the children,' is what one often hears. Had you rare plants which cost much money to obtain, which needed sunlight, warmth, and air, would you not consider anxiously the position of your conservatory, and take much pains to insure that nothing should be wanting that could help their development, so that you might feast your eyes upon their beauty, or delight yourselves with their fragrance? And yet a room at the top of the house, one of the attics perhaps, is too often destined for the little one and its nurse; or if there are two or three children, one small room is set apart for the day nursery, and a second, probably with a different aspect, for a sleeping room, and so small that it does not furnish the needed five hundred cubic feet of air for each. And as a consequence, the children are ailing, any predisposition in them to hereditary disease is fostered, they have no strength to battle against any acute illness that may befall them, and yet surprise is felt that the doctor is never out of the house.[2]