The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-05-24
Home Nursing
The Lost Voice

Il WaS carry summer ana Tor 0dyS
 a cold dismal rain had lashed the
 tree tops and drifted sullenly across the river. The blue flowers at it's edge were battered and spoiled, the camelia flowers alone in the study and the win dow on the grass, and the birds in the garden sat dejectedly in their rain- soaked houses looking out at the rain soaked world. Naturally, every child in the big house in the garden had summer colds. And everyone was cross and tired of being kept in the house and longing for a streak of blue sky.
 Then Jerry, the littliest boy who was eight, slipped defiantIy out of the big window in his fathers study, because he couldn't stand being kept in the house any longer. No one saw him, because he had been alone in the study and the window opened onto the side lawn.
 Slipping down to the wet sodden grass, he ran as fast as his fat legs could carry him to the barn, where on sunny days he and his brothers and sisters played circus, and planned won derful trips around the world when they should all be pirates.
 It was lonely in the barn and his feet were wet and he was cold. But he wandered down to the playhouse in the back garden under the cur rant bushes and tried to believe that he was having good time. He wasn't. And his feet were very wet.
 After half an hour ne went back to ; the house, disconsolately. As he en- tered by the kitchen he was caught up by the mortified cook who delivered him to his mother There the adventure ended-except that Jerry lost his voice.
 He had been very warm when he went out into the cold wet garden and had been quickly. chilled. His feet were wet and he was one of those fat little boys who get croup a good deal, and catch cold more easily than any one else in the house.
 Jerry sulked a little and conghed a great deal, and the rest of the family was too intent upon feeling miserable to notice him much after his mother scolded him and sent him off to change his wet socks and shoes for dry ones. Being in disgrace, Jerry, like any other small boy, went off and hid simself un- der the library table and fell asleep. The floor was draughty and he coughed so necessarily even in his sleep that his mother, searching for him, found him very red of face and shivery and cough ing as if he would never stop. Open ing drowsy eyes, Jerry tried to speak, but found that his voice was gone. Terrified, he tried to cry. No sound came, other than q hoarseA barking cough. It was not croup but his mothy CT knew what it meant.
 Jerry had laryingitis, or inflamma- tion of the ''voice-boxN The best thing in the world for such an ail- ment is st0am. The inhalation of medi- cated steam soothes the irritated mu- cous membrane of the delicate bronchial and vocal chords, and quiets the dis tressing spasms of coughing which wrack the body.
 Benzoin is as good as anything to put in an inhalation, though, eucalyp- tus may also be used, but very care fully, as it is very strong and too much will strangle rather than soothe the suf- ferer.
 One can buy proper inhalers, but Jerry's mother did not have one. She took an old china teapot and filled it almost full of boiling water, into which she dropped few drops of benzoin.
 Covering Jerry's head with n big bath towel, which covered the teapot too, she told him to breathe in the steam gently from the spout of the tea pot, which she placed in his mouth.
 At first Jerry was afraid he would be burned, but very quickly he learned how to breathe in the comforting warmth of the steam and not to in- hale the hot water.
 Limitations like this, every hour or two, will check severe coughing and re- store lost voices.