[Illustration: AUTHORITY. ]

GENTLE MEASURES

IN THE

MANAGEMENT AND TRAINING

OF THE YOUNG;

OR, THE PRINCIPLES ON WHICH A FIRM PARENTAL AUTHORITY MAY BE ESTABLISHED ANDMAINTAINED, WITHOUT VIOLENCE OR ANGER, AND THE RIGHT DEVELOPMENT OF THEMORAL AND MENTAL CAPACITIES BE PROMOTED BY METHODS IN HARMONY WITH THESTRUCTURE AND THE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE JUVENILE MIND. 

By JACOB ABBOTT, AUTHOR OF "SCIENCE FOR THE YOUNG, " "HARPER'S STORY BOOKS, " "FRANCONIASTORIES, " "ABBOTT'S ILLUSTRATED HISTORIES, " ETC. 

_NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS_. 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. THREE MODES OF MANAGEMENT

CHAPTER II. WHAT ARE GENTLE MEASURES?

CHAPTER III. THERE MUST BE AUTHORITY

CHAPTER IV. GENTLE PUNISHMENT OF DISOBEDIENCE

CHAPTER V. THE PHILOSOPHY OF PUNISHMENT

CHAPTER VI. REWARDING OBEDIENCE

CHAPTER VII. THE ART OF TRAINING

CHAPTER VIII. METHODS EXEMPLIFIED

CHAPTER IX. DELLA AND THE DOLLS

CHAPTER X. SYMPATHY:--I. THE CHILD WITH THE PARENT

CHAPTER XI. SYMPATHY:--II. THE PARENT WITH THE CHILD

CHAPTER XII. COMMENDATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT

CHAPTER XIII. FAULTS OF IMMATURITY

CHAPTER XIV. THE ACTIVITY OF CHILDREN

CHAPTER XV. THE IMAGINATION IN CHILDREN

CHAPTER XVI. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD

CHAPTER XVII. JUDGMENT AND REASONING

CHAPTER XVIII. WISHES AND REQUESTS

CHAPTER XIX. CHILDREN'S QUESTIONS

CHAPTER XX. THE USE OF MONEY

CHAPTER XXI. CORPORAL PUNISHMENT

CHAPTER XXII. GRATITUDE IN CHILDREN

CHAPTER XXIII. RELIGIOUS TRAINING

CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION

ILLUSTRATIONS

AUTHORITY

INDULGENCE

"IT IS NOT SAFE"

THE LESSON IN OBEDIENCE

ROUNDABOUT INSTRUCTION

AFRAID OF THE COW

THE INTENTION GOOD

THE IMAGINATIVE FACULTY

STORY OF THE HORSE

"MOTHER, WHAT MAKES IT SNOW?"

THE RUNAWAY

THE FIRST INSTINCT

GENTLE MEASURES. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE THREE MODES OF MANAGEMENT. 

It is not impossible that in the minds of some persons the idea ofemploying gentle measures in the management and training of children mayseem to imply the abandonment of the principle of _authority_, as thebasis of the parental government, and the substitution of some weak andinefficient system of artifice and manoeuvring in its place. To supposethat the object of this work is to aid in effecting such a substitution asthat, is entirely to mistake its nature and design. The only governmentof the parent over the child that is worthy of the name is one ofauthority--complete, absolute, unquestioned _authority_. The object of thiswork is, accordingly, not to show how the gentle methods which will bebrought to view can be employed as a substitute for such authority, but howthey can be made to aid in establishing and maintaining it. 

_Three Methods_. 

There are three different modes of management customarily employedby parents as means of inducing their children to comply with theirrequirements. They are, 1. Government by Manoeuvring and Artifice. 

2. By Reason and Affection. 

3. By Authority. 

_Manoeuvring and Artifice_. 

1. Many mothers manage their children by means of tricks and contrivances, more or less adroit, designed to avoid direct issues with them, and tobeguile them, as it were, into compliance with their wishes. As, forexample, where a mother, recovering from sickness, is going out to takethe air with her husband for the first time, and--as she is stillfeeble--wishes for a very quiet drive, and so concludes not to take littleMary with her, as she usually does on such occasions; but knowing that ifMary sees the chaise at the door, and discovers that her father and motherare going in it, she will be very eager to go too, she adopts a system ofmanoeuvres to conceal her design. She brings down her bonnet and shawl bystealth, and before the chaise comes to the door she sends Mary out intothe garden with her sister, under pretense of showing her a bird's nestwhich is not there, trusting to her sister's skill in diverting the child'smind, and amusing her with something else in the garden, until the chaisehas gone. And if, either from hearing the sound of the wheels, or fromany other cause, Mary's suspicions are awakened--and children habituallymanaged on these principles soon learn to be extremely distrustful andsuspicious--and she insists on going into the house, and thus discovers thestratagem, then, perhaps, her mother tells her that they are only going tothe doctor's, and that if Mary goes with them, the doctor will give hersome dreadful medicine, and compel her to take it, thinking thus to deterher from insisting on going with them to ride. 

As the chaise drives away, Mary stands bewildered and perplexed on thedoor-step, her mind in a tumult of excitement, in which hatred of thedoctor, distrust and suspicion of her mother, disappointment, vexation, andill humor, surge and swell among those delicate organizations on which thestructure and development of the soul so closely depend--doing perhaps anirreparable injury. The mother, as soon as the chaise is so far turned thatMary can no longer watch the expression of her countenance, goes away fromthe door with a smile of complacency and satisfaction upon her face at theingenuity and success of her little artifice. 

In respect to her statement that she was going to the doctor's, it may, or may not, have been true. Most likely not; for mothers who manage theirchildren on this system find the line of demarkation between deceit andfalsehood so vague and ill defined that they soon fall into the habit ofdisregarding it altogether, and of saying, without hesitation, any thingwhich will serve the purpose in view. 

_Governing by Reason and Affection_. 

2. The theory of many mothers is that they must govern their children bythe influence of reason and affection. Their method may be exemplified bysupposing that, under circumstances similar to those described under thepreceding head, the mother calls Mary to her side, and, smoothing her haircaressingly with her hand while she speaks, says to her, "Mary, your father and I are going out to ride this afternoon, and I amgoing to explain it all to you why you can not go too. You see, I have beensick, and am getting well, and I am going out to ride, so that I may getwell faster. You love mamma, I am sure, and wish to have her get well soon. So you will be a good girl, I know, and not make any trouble, but will stayat home contentedly--won't you? Then I shall love you, and your papa willlove you, and after I get well we will take you to ride with us some day. "

The mother, in managing the case in this way, relies partly on convincingthe reason of the child, and partly on an appeal to her affection. 

_Governing by Authority_. 

3. By the third method the mother secures the compliance of the child bya direct exercise of authority. She says to her--the circumstances of thecase being still supposed to be the same--

"Mary, your father and I are going out to ride this afternoon, and I amsorry, for your sake, that we can not take you with us. "

"Why can't you take me?" asks Mary. 

"I can not tell you why, now, " replies the mother, "but perhaps I willexplain it to you after I come home. I think there _is_ a good reason, and, at any rate, I have decided that you are not to go. If you are a good girl, and do not make any difficulty, you can have your little chair out uponthe front door-step, and can see the chaise come to the door, and see yourfather and me get in and drive away; and you can wave your handkerchief tous for a good-bye. "

Then, if she observes any expression of discontent or insubmission inMary's countenance, the mother would add, "If you should _not_ be a good girl, but should show signs of making us anytrouble, I shall have to send you out somewhere to the back part of thehouse until we are gone. "

But this last supposition is almost always unnecessary; for if Mary hasbeen habitually managed on this principle she will _not_ make anytrouble. She will perceive at once that the question is settled--settledirrevocably--and especially that it is entirely beyond the power of anydemonstrations of insubmission or rebellion that she can make to change it. She will acquiesce at once. [A] She may be sorry that she can not go, butshe will make no resistance. Those children only attempt to carry theirpoints by noisy and violent demonstrations who find, by experience, thatsuch measures are usually successful. A child, even, who has become onceaccustomed to them, will soon drop them if she finds, owing to a changein the system of management, that they now never succeed. And a child whonever, from the beginning, finds any efficiency in them, never learns toemploy them at all. 

_Conclusion_. 

Of the three methods of managing children exemplified in this chapter, the last is the only one which can be followed either with comfort to theparent or safety to the child; and to show how this method can be broughteffectually into operation by gentle measures is the object of this book. It is, indeed, true that the importance of tact and skill in the trainingof the young, and of cultivating their reason, and securing theiraffection, can not be overrated. But the influences secured by these meansform, at the best, but a sandy foundation for filial obedience to restupon. The child is not to be made to comply with the requirements of hisparents by being artfully inveigled into compliance, nor is his obedienceto rest on his love for father and mother, and his unwillingnessto displease them, nor on his conviction of the rightfulness andreasonableness of their commands, but on simple _submission toauthority_--that absolute and almost unlimited authority which all parentsare commissioned by God and nature to exercise over their offspring duringthe period while the offspring remain dependent upon their care. 

CHAPTER II. 

WHAT ARE GENTLE MEASURES?

It being thus distinctly understood that the gentle measures in thetraining of children herein recommended are not to be resorted to as a_substitute_ for parental authority, but as the easiest and most effectualmeans of establishing and maintaining that authority in its most absoluteform, we have now to consider what the nature of these gentle measures is, and by what characteristics they are distinguished, in their action andinfluence, from such as may be considered more or less violent and harsh. 

Gentle measures are those which tend to exert a calming, quieting, andsoothing influence on the mind, or to produce only such excitements asare pleasurable in their character, as means of repressing wrong andencouraging right action. Ungentle measures are those which tend to inflameand irritate the mind, or to agitate it with _painful_ excitements. 

_Three Degrees of Violence_. 

There seem to be three grades or forms of violence to which a mother mayresort in controlling her children, or, perhaps, rather three classes ofmeasures which are more or less violent in their effects. To illustratethese we will take an example. 

_Case supposed_. 

One day Louisa, four years old, asked her mother for an apple. "Have youhad any already?" asked her mother. 

"Only one, " replied Louisa. "Then Bridget may give you another, " said themother. 

What Louisa said was not true. She had already eaten two apples. Bridgetheard the falsehood, but she did not consider it her duty to betray thechild, so she said nothing. The mother, however, afterwards, in the courseof the day, accidentally ascertained the truth. 

Now, as we have said, there are three grades in the kind and character ofthe measures which may be considered violent that a mother may resort to ina case like this. 

_Bodily Punishment_. 

1. First, there is the infliction of bodily pain. The child may be whipped, or tied to the bed-post, and kept in a constrained and uncomfortableposition for a long time, or shut up in solitude and darkness, or punishedby the infliction of bodily suffering in other ways. 

And there is no doubt that there is a tendency in such treatment to corrector cure the fault. But measures like these, whether successful or not, arecertainly violent measures. They shock the whole nervous system, sometimeswith the excitement of pain and terror, and always, probably, with thatof resentment and anger. In some cases this excitement is extreme. Theexcessively delicate organization of the brain, through which suchagitations reach the sensorium, and which, in children of an early age, isin its most tender and sensitive state of development, is subjected to amost intense and violent agitation. 

_Evil Effects of Violence in this Form_. 

The evil effects of this excessive cerebral action may _perhaps_ entirelypass away in a few hours, and leave no trace of injury behind; but then, on the other hand, there is certainly reason to fear that such commotions, especially if often repeated, tend to impede the regular and healthfuldevelopment of the organs, and that they may become the origin ofderangements, or of actual disorganizations, resulting very seriously infuture years. It is impossible, perhaps, to know with certainty whetherpermanent ill effects follow in such cases or not. At any rate, such aremedy is a violent one. 

_The Frightening System_. 

2. There is a second grade of violence in the treatment of such a case, which consists in exciting pain or terror, or other painful or disagreeableemotions, through the imagination, by presenting to the fancy of the childimages of phantoms, hobgoblins, and other frightful monsters, whose ire, itis pretended, is greatly excited by the misdeeds of children, and who comein the night-time to take them away, or otherwise visit them with terribleretribution. Domestic servants are very prone to adopt this mode ofdiscipline. Being forbidden to resort to personal violence as a means ofexciting pain and terror, they attempt to accomplish the same end by othermeans, which, however, in many respects, are still more injurious in theiraction. 

_Management of Nurses and Servants_. 

Nurses and attendants upon children from certain nationalities in Europeare peculiarly disposed to employ this method of governing children placedunder their care. One reason is that they are accustomed to this mode ofmanagement at home; and another is that many of them are brought up underan idea, which prevails extensively in some of those countries, that itis right to tell falsehoods where the honest object is to accomplish acharitable or useful end. Accordingly, inasmuch as the restraining of thechildren from wrong is a good and useful object, they can declare theexistence of giants and hobgoblins, to carry away and devour bad girls andboys, with an air of positiveness and seeming honesty, and with a calm andpersistent assurance, which aids them very much in producing on the mindsof the children a conviction of the truth of what they say; while, on theother hand, those who, in theory at least, occupy the position thatthe direct falsifying of one's word is _never_ justifiable, act at adisadvantage in attempting this method. For although, in practice, they areoften inclined to make an exception to their principles in regard to truthin the case of what is said to young children, they can not, after all, tell children what they know to be not true with that bold and confidentair necessary to carry full conviction to the children's minds. They areembarrassed by a kind of half guilty feeling, which, partially at least, betrays them, and the children do not really and fully believe what theysay. They can not suppose that their mother would really tell them whatshe knew was false, and yet they can not help perceiving that she does notspeak and look as if what she was saying was actually true. 

_Monsieur and Madame Croquemitaine_. 

In all countries there are many, among even the most refined and highlycultivated classes, who are not at all embarrassed by any moral delicacyof this kind. This is especially the case in those countries in Europe, particularly on the Continent, where the idea above referred to, of theallowableness of falsehood in certain cases as a means for the attainmentof a good end, is generally entertained. The French have two terriblebugbears, under the names of Monsieur and Madame Croquemitaine, who are asfamiliar to the imaginations of French children as Santa Claus is, in amuch more agreeable way, to the juvenile fancy at our firesides. Monsieurand Madame Croquemitaine are frightful monsters, who come down the chimney, or through the roof, at night, and carry off bad children. They learn fromtheir _little fingers_--which whisper in their ears when they hold themnear--who the bad children are, where they live, and what they have done. The instinctive faith of young children in their mother's truthfulness isso strong that no absurdity seems gross enough to overcome it. 

_The Black Man and the Policeman_. 

There are many mothers among us who--though not quite prepared to callin the aid of ghosts, giants, and hobgoblins, or of Monsieur and MadameCroquemitaine, in managing their children--still, sometimes, try to eke outtheir failing authority by threatening them with the "black man, " or the"policeman, " or some other less, supernatural terror. They seem to imaginethat inasmuch as, while there is no such thing in existence as a hobgoblin, there really are policemen and prisons, they only half tell an untruth bysaying to the recalcitrant little one that a policeman is coming to carryhim off to jail. 

_Injurious Effects_. 

Although, by these various modes of exciting imaginary fears, there is nodirect and outward infliction of bodily suffering, the effect produced onthe delicate organization of the brain by such excitements is violent inthe extreme. The paroxysms of agitation and terror which they sometimesexcite, and which are often spontaneously renewed by darkness and solitude, and by other exciting causes, are of the nature of temporary insanity. Indeed, the extreme nervous excitability which they produce sometimesbecomes a real insanity, which, though it may, in many cases, be finallyoutgrown, may probably in many others lead to lasting and most deplorableresults. 

_Harsh Reproofs and Threatenings_. 

3. There is a third mode of treatment, more common, perhaps, among _us_than either of the preceding, which, though much milder in its characterthan they, we still class among the violent measures, on account ofits operation and effects. It consists of stern and harsh rebukes, denunciations of the heinousness of the sin of falsehood, with solemnpremonitions of the awful consequences of it, in this life and in that tocome, intended to awaken feelings of alarm and distress in the mind of thechild, as a means of promoting repentance and reformation. These arenot violent measures, it is true, so far as outward physical action isconcerned; but the effects which they produce are sometimes of quite aviolent nature, in their operation on the delicate nervous and mentalsusceptibilities which are excited and agitated by them. If the motheris successful in making the impression which such a mode of treatment isdesigned to produce, the child, especially if a girl, is agitated anddistressed. Her nervous system is greatly disturbed. If calmed for a time, the paroxysm is very liable to return. She wakes in the night, perhaps, with an indefinable feeling of anxiety and terror, and comes to hermother's bedside, to seek, in her presence, and in the sense of protectionwhich it affords, a relief from her distress. 

The conscientious mother, supremely anxious to secure the best interestsof her child, may say that, after all, it is better that she should endurethis temporary suffering than not be saved from the sin. This is true. Butif she can be saved just as effectually without it, it is better still. 

_The Gentle Method of Treatment_. 

4. We now come to the gentle measures which may be adopted in a case ofdiscipline like this. They are endlessly varied in form, but, to illustratethe nature and operation of them, and the spirit and temper of mind withwhich they should be enforced, with a view of communicating; to the mind ofthe reader some general idea of the characteristics of that gentleness oftreatment which it is the object of this work to commend, we will describean actual case, substantially as it really occurred, where a child, whomwe will still call Louisa, told her mother a falsehood about the apple, asalready related. 

_Choosing the Right Time_. 

Her mother--though Louisa's manner, at the time of giving her answer, ledher to feel somewhat suspicious--did not express her suspicions, but gaveher the additional apple. Nor did she afterwards, when she ascertained thefacts, say any thing on the subject. The day passed away as if nothingunusual had occurred. When bed-time came she undressed the child and laidher in her bed, playing with her, and talking with her in an amusing mannerall the time, so as to bring her into a contented and happy frame ofmind, and to establish as close a connection as possible of affection andsympathy between them. Then, finally, when the child's prayer had beensaid, and she was about to be left for the night, her mother, sitting ina chair at the head of her little bed, and putting her hand lovingly uponher, said:

_The Story_. 

"But first I must tell you one more little story. 

"Once there was a boy, and his name was Ernest. He was a pretty large boy, for he was five years old. "

Louisa, it must be recollected, was only four. 

"He was a very pretty boy. He had bright blue eyes and curling hair. Hewas a very good boy, too. He did not like to do any thing wrong. He alwaysfound that it made him feel uncomfortable and unhappy afterwards when hedid any thing wrong. A good many children, especially good children, findthat it makes them feel uncomfortable and unhappy when they do wrong. Perhaps you do. "

"Yes, mamma, I do, " said Louisa. 

"I am glad of that, " replied her mother; "that is a good sign. "

"Ernest went one day, " added the mother, continuing her story, "with hislittle cousin Anna to their uncle's, in hopes that he would give themsome apples. Their uncle had a beautiful garden, and in it there was anapple-tree which bore most excellent apples. They were large, and rosy, andmellow, and sweet. The children liked the apples from that tree very much, and Ernest and Anna went that day in hopes that their uncle would give themsome of them. He said he would. He would give them three apiece. He toldthem to go into the garden and wait there until he came. They must not takeany apples off the tree, he said, but if they found any _under_ the treethey might take them, provided that there were not more than three apiece;and when he came he would take enough off the tree, he said, to make up thenumber to three. 

"So the children went into the garden and looked under the tree. They found_two_ apples there, and they took them up and ate them--one apiece. Thenthey sat down and began to wait for their uncle to come. While they werewaiting Anna proposed that they should not tell their uncle that they hadfound the two apples, and so he would give them three more, which he wouldtake from the tree; whereas, if he knew that they had already had oneapiece, then he would only give them two more. Ernest said that his unclewould ask them about it. Anna said, 'No matter, we can tell him that we didnot find any. '

"Ernest seemed to be thinking about it for a moment, and then, shaking hishead, said, 'No, I think we had better not tell him a lie!'

"So when he saw their uncle coming he said, 'Come, Anna, let us go and tellhim about it, just how it was. So they ran together to meet their uncle, and told him that they had found two apples under the tree, one apiece, and had eaten them. Then he gave them two more apiece, according to hispromise, and they went home feeling contented and happy. 

"They might have had one more apple apiece, probably, by combining togetherto tell a falsehood; but in that case they would have gone home feelingguilty and unhappy. "

_The Effect_. 

Louisa's mother paused a moment, after finishing her story, to give Louisatime to think about it a little. 

"I think, " she added at length, after a suitable pause, "that it was agreat deal better for them to tell the truth, as they did. "

"I think so too, mamma, " said Louisa, at the same time casting down hereyes and looking a little confused. 

"But you know, " added her mother, speaking in a very kind and gentle tone, "that you did not tell me the truth to-day about the apple that Bridgetgave you. "

Louisa paused a moment, looked in her mother's face, and then, reaching upto put her arms around her mother's neck, she said, "Mamma, I am determined never to tell you another wrong story as long as Ilive. "

_Only a Single Lesson, after all_. 

Now it is not at all probable that if the case had ended here, Louisa wouldhave kept her promise. This was one good lesson, it is true, but it wasonly _one_. And the lesson was given by a method so gentle, that nonervous, cerebral, or mental function was in any degree irritated ormorbidly excited by it. Moreover, no one who knows any thing of theworkings of the infantile mind can doubt that the impulse in the rightdirection given by this conversation was not only better in character, butwas greater in amount, than could have been effected by either of the othermethods of management previously described. 

_How Gentle Measures operate_. 

By the gentle measures, then, which are to be here discussed andrecommended, are meant such as do not react in a violent and irritatingmanner, in any way, upon the extremely delicate, and almost embryoniccondition of the cerebral and nervous organization, in which the gradualdevelopment of the mental and moral faculties are so intimately involved. They do not imply any, the least, relaxation of the force of parentalauthority, or any lowering whatever of the standards of moral obligation, but are, on the contrary, the most effectual, the surest and the safest wayof establishing the one and of enforcing the other. 

CHAPTER III. 

THERE MUST BE AUTHORITY. 

The first duty which devolves upon the mother in the training of her childis the establishment of her _authority_ over him--that is, the forming inhim the habit of immediate, implicit, and unquestioning obedience to allher commands. And the first step to be taken, or, rather, perhaps the firstessential condition required for the performance of this duty, is thefixing of the conviction in her own mind that it _is_ a duty. 

Unfortunately, however, there are not only vast numbers of mothers who donot in any degree perform this duty, but a large proportion of them havenot even a theoretical idea of the obligation of it. 

_An Objection_. 

"I wish my child to be governed by reason and reflection, " says one. "Iwish him to see the _necessity_ and _propriety_ of what I require of him, so that he may render a ready and willing compliance with my wishes, instead of being obliged blindly to submit to arbitrary and despoticpower. "

She forgets that the faculties of reason and reflection, and the powerof appreciating "the necessity and propriety of things, " and of bringingconsiderations of future, remote, and perhaps contingent good and evil torestrain and subdue the impetuousness of appetites and passions eager forpresent pleasure, are qualities that appear late, and are very slowlydeveloped, in the infantile mind; that no real reliance whatever can beplaced upon them in the early years of life; and that, moreover, one of thechief and expressly intended objects of the establishment of the parentalrelation is to provide, in the mature reason and reflection of the fatherand mother, the means of guidance which the embryo reason and reflection ofthe child could not afford during the period of his immaturity. 

_The two great Elements of Parental Obligation_. 

Indeed, the chief end and aim of the parental relation, as designed by theAuthor of nature, may be considered as comprised, it would seem, in thesetwo objects, namely: first, the _support_ of the child by the _strength_of his parents during the period necessary for the development of _his_strength, and, secondly, his guidance and direction by their _reason_during the development of his reason. The second of these obligations is noless imperious than the first. To expect him to provide the means of hissupport from the resources of his own embryo strength, would imply nogreater misapprehension on the part of his father and mother than to lookfor the exercise of any really controlling influence over his conduct byhis embryo reason. The expectation in the two cases would be equally vain. The only difference would be that, in the failure which would inevitablyresult from the trial, it would be in the one case the body that wouldsuffer, and in the other the soul. 

_The Judgment more slowly developed than the Strength_. 

Indeed, the necessity that the conduct of the child should be controlled bythe reason of the parents is in one point of view greater, or at least moreprotracted, than that his wants should be supplied by their power; forthe development of the thinking and reasoning powers is late and slow incomparison with the advancement toward maturity of the physical powers. Itis considered that a boy attains, in this country, to a sufficient degreeof strength at the age of from _seven to ten_ years to earn his living; buthis reason is not sufficiently mature to make it safe to intrust him withthe care of himself and of his affairs, in the judgment of the law, till heis of more than twice that age. The parents can actually thus soonerlook to the _strength_ of the child for his support than they can to his_reason_ for his guidance. 

_What Parents have to do in Respect to the Reasoning Powers of Children_. 

To aid in the development and cultivation of the thinking and reasoningpowers is doubtless a very important part of a parent's duty. But tocultivate these faculties is one thing, while to make any control which maybe procured for them over the mind of the child the basis of government, isanother. To explain the reasons of our commands is excellent, if it isdone in the right time and manner. The wrong time is when the question ofobedience is pending, and the wrong manner is when they are offered asinducements to obey. We may offer reasons for _recommendations_, whenwe leave the child to judge of their force, and to act according to ourrecommendations or not, as his judgment shall dictate. But reasons shouldnever be given as inducements to obey a command. The more completely theobedience to a command rests on the principle of simple submission toauthority, the easier and better it will be both for parent and child. 

_Manner of exercising Authority_. 

Let no reader fall into the error of supposing that the mother's makingher authority the basis of her government renders it necessary for her toassume a stern and severe aspect towards her children, in her intercoursewith them; or to issue her commands in a harsh, abrupt, and imperiousmanner; or always to refrain from explaining, at the time, the reasons fora command or a prohibition. The more gentle the manner, and the more kindand courteous the tones in which the mother's wishes are expressed, thebetter, provided only that the wishes, however expressed, are really themandates of an authority which is to be yielded to at once without questionor delay. She may say, "Mary, will you please to leave your doll and takethis letter for me into the library to your father?" or, "Johnny, in fiveminutes it will be time for you to put your blocks away to go to bed; Iwill tell you when the time is out;" or, "James, look at the clock"--tocall his attention to the fact that the time is arrived for him to go toschool. No matter, in a word, under how mild and gentle a form the mother'scommands are given, provided only that the children are trained tounderstand that they are at once to be obeyed. 

_A second Objection_. 

Another large class of mothers are deterred from making any efficienteffort to establish their authority over their children for fear of therebyalienating their affections. "I wish my child to love me, " says a mother ofthis class. "That is the supreme and never-ceasing wish of my heart; and ifI am continually thwarting and constraining her by my authority, she willsoon learn to consider me an obstacle to her happiness, and I shall becomean object of her aversion and dislike. "

There is some truth, no doubt, in this statement thus expressed, but it isnot applicable to the case, for the reason that there is no need whateverfor a mother's "continually thwarting and constraining" her children in herefforts to establish her authority over them. The love which they willfeel for her will depend in a great measure upon the degree in whichshe sympathizes and takes part with them in their occupations, theirenjoyments, their disappointments, and their sorrows, and in which sheindulges their child-like desires. The love, however, awakened by thesemeans will be not weakened nor endangered, but immensely strengthened andconfirmed, by the exercise on her part of a just and equable, but firmand absolute, authority. This must always be true so long as a feeling ofrespect for the object of affection tends to strengthen, and not to weaken, the sentiment of love. The mother who does not govern her children isbringing them up not to love her, but to despise her. 

_Effect of Authority. _

If, besides being their playmate, their companion, and friend, indulgentin respect to all their harmless fancies, and patient and forbearingwith their childish faults and foolishness, she also exercises in casesrequiring it an authority over them which, though just and gentle, is yetabsolute and supreme, she rises to a very exalted position in their view. Their affection for her has infused into it an element which greatlyaggrandizes and ennobles it--an element somewhat analogous to thatsentiment of lofty devotion which a loyal subject feels for his queen. 

_Effect of the Want of Authority. _

On the other hand, if she is inconsiderate enough to attempt to win aplace in her children's hearts by the sacrifice of her maternal authority, she will never succeed in securing a place there that is worth possessing. The children will all, girls and boys alike, see and understand herweakness, and they will soon learn to look down upon her, instead oflooking up to her, as they ought. As they grow older they will all becomemore and more unmanageable. The insubordination of the girls must generallybe endured, but that of the boys will in time grow to be intolerable, andit will become necessary to send them away to school, or to adopt someother plan for ridding the house of their turbulence, and relieving thepoor mother's heart of the insupportable burden she has to bear in findingherself contemned and trampled upon by her own children. In the earlieryears of life the feeling entertained for their mother in such a case bythe children is simply that of contempt; for the sentiment of gratitudewhich will modify it in time is very late to be developed, and has not yetbegun to act. In later years, however, when the boys have become young men, this sentiment of gratitude begins to come in, but it only changes thecontempt into pity. And when years have passed away, and the mother isperhaps in her grave, her sons think of her with a mingled feeling excitedby the conjoined remembrance of her helpless imbecility and of her truematernal love, and say to each other, with a smile, "Poor dear mother! whata time she had of it trying to govern us boys!"

If a mother is willing to have her children thus regard her with contemptpure and simple while they are children, and with contempt transformedinto pity by the infusion of a tardy sentiment of gratitude, when theyare grown, she may try the plan of endeavoring to secure their love by_indulging_ them without _governing_ them. But if she sets her heart onbeing the object through life of their respectful love, she may indulgethem as much as she pleases; but she _must govern_ them. 

_Indulgence_. 

A great deal is said sometimes about the evils of indulgence in themanagement of children; and so far as the condemnation refers only toindulgence in what is injurious or evil, it is doubtless very just. Butthe harm is not in the indulgence itself--that is, in the act of affordinggratification to the child--but in the injurious or dangerous nature of thethings indulged in. It seems to me that children are not generally indulgedenough. They are thwarted and restrained in respect to the gratification oftheir harmless wishes a great deal too much. Indeed, as a general rule, themore that children are gratified in respect to their childish fanciesand impulses, and even their caprices, when no evil or danger is to beapprehended, the better. 

When, therefore, a child asks, "May I do this?" or, "May I do that?" thequestion for the mother to consider is not whether the thing proposed is awise or a foolish thing to do--that is, whether it would be wise or foolishfor _her_, if she, with her ideas and feelings, were in the place of thechild--but only whether there is any harm or danger in it; and if not, sheshould give her ready and cordial consent. 

_Antagonism between Free Indulgence and Absolute Control_. 

There is no necessary antagonism, nor even any inconsistency, between thefreest indulgence of children and the maintenance of the most absoluteauthority over them. Indeed, the authority can be most easily establishedin connection with great liberality of indulgence. At any rate, it will bevery evident, on reflection, that the two principles do not stand at allin opposition to each other, as is often vaguely supposed. Children may begreatly indulged, and yet perfectly governed. On the other hand, they maybe continually checked and thwarted, and their lives made miserable by acontinued succession of vexations, restrictions, and refusals, and yet notbe governed at all. An example will, however, best illustrate this. 

_Mode of Management with Louisa_. 

A mother, going to the village by a path across the fields, proposed to herlittle daughter Louisa to go with her for a walk. 

Louisa asked if she might invite her Cousin Mary to go too. "Yes, " saidher mother; "I _think_ she is not at home; but you can go and see, if youlike. "

Louisa went to see, and returned in a few minutes, saying that Mary was_not_ at home. 

"Never mind, " replied her mother; "it was polite in you to wish to inviteher. "

They set out upon the walk. Louisa runs hither and thither over the grass, returning continually to her mother to bring her flowers and curiosities. Her mother looks at them all, seems to approve of, and to sympathize in, Louisa's wonder and delight, and even points out new charms in the objectswhich she brings to her, that Louisa had not observed. 

At length Louisa spied a butterfly. 

"Mother, " said she, "here's a butterfly. May I run and catch him?"

"You may try, " said her mother. 

Louisa ran till she was tired, and then came back to her mother, looking alittle disappointed. 

"I could not catch him, mother. "

"Never mind, " said her mother, "you had a good time trying, at any rate. Perhaps you will see another by-and-by. You may possibly see a bird, andyou can try and see if you can catch _him_. "

So Louisa ran off to play again, satisfied and happy. 

A little farther on a pretty tree was growing, not far from the path on oneside. A short, half-decayed log lay at the foot of the tree, overtopped andnearly concealed by a growth of raspberry-bushes, grass, and wild flowers. 

"Louisa, " said the mother, "do you see that tree with the pretty flowers atthe foot of it?"

"Yes, mother. "

"I would rather not have you go near that tree. Come over to this side ofthe path, and keep on this side till you get by. "

Louisa began immediately to obey, but as she was crossing the path shelooked up to her mother and asked why she must not go near the tree. 

"I am glad you would like to know why, " replied her mother, "and I willtell you the reason as soon as we get past. "

Louisa kept on the other side of the path until the tree was left wellbehind, and then came back to her mother to ask for the promised reason. 

"It was because I heard that there was a wasp's nest under that tree, " saidher mother. 

"A wasp's nest!" repeated Louisa, with a look of alarm. 

"Yes, " rejoined her mother, "and I was afraid that the wasps might stingyou. "

Louisa paused a moment, and then, looking back towards the tree, said, "I am glad I did not go near it. "

"And I am glad that you obeyed me so readily, " said her mother. "I knew youwould obey me at once, without my giving any reason. I did not wish to tellyou the reason, for fear of frightening you while you were passing by thetree. But I knew that you would obey me without any reason. You always do, and that is why I always like to have you go with me when I take a walk. "

[Illustration: INDULGENCE. ]

Louisa is much gratified by this commendation, and the effect of it, andof the whole incident, in confirming and strengthening the principle ofobedience in her heart, is very much greater than rebukes or punishmentsfor any overt act of disobedience could possibly be. 

"But, mother, " asked Louisa, "how did you know that there was a wasp's nestunder that tree?"

"One of the boys told me so, " replied her mother. 

"And do you really think there is one there?" asked Louisa. 

"No, " replied her mother, "I do not really think there is. Boys are veryapt to imagine such things. "

"Then why would you not let me go there?" asked Louisa. 

"Because there _might be_ one there, and so I thought it safer for you notto go near. "

Louisa now left her mother's side and resumed her excursions, running thisway and that, in every direction, over the fields, until at length, herstrength beginning to fail, she came back to her mother, out of breath, andwith a languid air, saying that she was too tired to go any farther. 

"I am tired, too, " said her mother; "we had better find a place to sit downto rest. "

"Where shall we find one?" asked Louisa. 

"I see a large stone out there before us a little way, " said her mother. "How will that do?"

"I mean to go and try it, " said Louisa; and, having seemingly recoveredher breath, she ran forward to try the stone. By the time that her motherreached the spot she was ready to go on. 

These and similar incidents marked the whole progress of the walk. 

We see that in such a case as this firm government and free indulgence areconjoined; and that, far from there being any antagonism between them, theymay work together in perfect harmony. 

_Mode of Management with Hannah_. 

On the other hand, there may be an extreme limitation in respect to amother's indulgence of her children, while yet she has no government overthem at all. We shall see how this might be by the case of little Hannah. 

Hannah was asked by her mother to go with her across the fields to thevillage under circumstances similar to those of Louisa's invitation, exceptthat the real motive of Hannah's mother, in proposing that Hannah shouldaccompany her, was to have the child's help in bringing home her parcels. 

"Yes, mother, " said Hannah, in reply to her mother's invitation, "I shouldlike to go; and I will go and ask Cousin Sarah to go too. "

"Oh no, " rejoined her mother, "why do you wish Sarah to go? She will onlybe a trouble to us. "

"She won't be any trouble at all, mother, and I mean to go and ask her, "said Hannah; and, putting on her bonnet, she set off towards the gate. 

"No, Hannah, " insisted her mother, "you _must not_ go. I don't wish to haveSarah go with us to-day. "

Hannah paid no attention to this prohibition, but ran off to find Sarah. After a few minutes she returned, saying that Sarah was not at home. 

"I am glad of it, " said her mother; "I told you not to go to ask her, andyou did very wrong to disobey me. I have a great mind not to let you goyourself. "

Hannah ran off in the direction of the path, not caring for the censure orfor the threat, knowing well that they would result in nothing. 

Her mother followed. When they reached the pastures Hannah began runninghere and there over the grass. 

"Hannah!" said her mother, speaking in a stern and reproachful tone; "whatdo you keep running about so for all the time, Hannah? You'll get tired outbefore we get to the village, and then you'll be teasing me to let you stopand rest. Come and walk along quietly with me. "

But Hannah paid no attention whatever to this injunction. She ran to andfro among the rocks and clumps of bushes, and once or twice she brought toher mother flowers or other curious things that she found. 

"Those things are not good for any thing, child, " said her mother. "Theyare nothing but common weeds and trash. Besides, I told you not to runabout so much. Why can't you come and walk quietly along the path, like asensible person?"

Hannah paid no attention to this reiteration of her mother's command, butcontinued to run about as before. 

"Hannah, " repeated her mother, "come back into the path. I have told youagain and again that you must come and walk with me, and you don't pay theleast heed to what I say. By-and-by you will fall into some hole, or tearyour clothes against the bushes, or get pricked with the briers. You mustnot, at any rate, go a step farther from the path than you are now. "

Hannah walked on, looking for flowers and curiosities, and receding fartherand farther from the path, for a time, and then returning towards it again, according to her own fancy or caprice, without paying any regard to hermother's directions. 

"Hannah, " said her mother, "you _must not_ go so far away from the path. Then, besides, you are coming to a tree where there is a wasps' nest. Youmust not go near that tree; if you do, you will get stung. "

Hannah went on, looking for flowers, and gradually drawing nearer to thetree. 

"Hannah!" exclaimed her mother, "I tell you that you must not go near thattree. You will _certainly_ get stung. "

Hannah went on--somewhat hesitatingly and cautiously, it is true--towardsthe foot of the tree, and, seeing no signs of wasps there, she begangathering the flowers that grew at the foot of it. 

"Hannah! Hannah!" exclaimed her mother; "I told you not to go near thattree! Get your flowers quick, if you must get them, and come away. "

Hannah went on gathering the flowers at her leisure. 

"You will _certainly_ get stung, " said her mother. 

"I don't believe there is any hornets' nest here, " replied Hannah. 

"Wasps' nest, " said her mother; "it was a wasps' nest. "

"Or wasps' nest either, " said Hannah. 

"Yes, " rejoined her mother, "the boys said there was. "

"That's nothing, " said Hannah; "the boys think there are wasps' nests in agreat many places where there are not any. "

After a time Hannah, having gathered all the flowers she wished for, cameback at her leisure towards her mother. 

"I told you not to go to that tree, " said her mother, reproachfully. 

"You told me I should certainly get stung if I went there, " rejoinedHannah, "and I didn't. "

"Well, you _might_ have got stung, " said her mother, and so walked on. 

Pretty soon after this Hannah said that she was tired of walking so far, and wished to stop and rest. 

"No, " replied her mother, "I told you that you would get tired if you ranabout so much; but you would do it, and so now I shall not stop for you atall. "

Hannah said that _she_ should stop, at any rate; so she sat down upon a logby the way-side. Her mother said that _she_ should go on and leave her. So her mother walked on, looking back now and then, and calling Hannah tocome. But finding that Hannah did not come, she finally found a place tosit down herself and wait for her. 

_The Principle illustrated by this Case_. 

Many a mother will see the image of her own management of her childrenreflected without exaggeration or distortion in this glass; and, as theformer story shows how the freest indulgence is compatible with themaintenance of the most absolute authority, this enables us to see how aperpetual resistance to the impulses and desires of children may co-existwith no government over them at all. 

Let no mother fear, then, that the measures necessary to establish for herthe most absolute authority over her children will at all curtail her powerto promote their happiness. The maintenance of the best possible governmentover them will not in any way prevent her yielding to them all the harmlessgratifications they may desire. She may indulge them in all their childishimpulses, fancies, and even caprices, to their heart's content, withoutat all weakening her authority over them. Indeed, she may make these veryindulgences the means of strengthening her authority. But without theauthority she can never develop in the hearts of her children the only kindof love that is worth possessing--namely, that in which the feeling ofaffection is dignified and ennobled by the sentiment of respect. 

_One more Consideration_. 

There is one consideration which, if properly appreciated, would have anoverpowering influence on the mind of every mother in inducing her toestablish and maintain a firm authority over her child during the earlyyears of his life, and that is the possibility that he may not live toreach maturity. Should the terrible calamity befall her of being compelledto follow her boy, yet young, to his grave, the character of her grief, andthe degree of distress and anguish which it will occasion her, will dependvery much upon the memories which his life and his relations to her haveleft in her soul. When she returns to her home, bowed down by the terribleburden of her bereavement, and wanders over the now desolated rooms whichwere the scenes of his infantile occupations and joys, and sees the nowuseless playthings and books, and the various objects of curiosity andinterest with which he was so often and so busily engaged, there can, ofcourse, be nothing which can really assuage her overwhelming grief; but itwill make a vital difference in the character of this grief, whether theimage of her boy, as it takes its fixed and final position in her memoryand in her heart, is associated with recollections of docility, respectfulregard for his mother's wishes, and of ready and unquestioning submissionto her authority and obedience to her commands; or whether, on the otherhand, the picture of his past life, which is to remain forever in herheart, is to be distorted and marred by memories of outbreaks, acts ofungovernable impulse and insubordination, habitual disregard of allauthority, and disrespectful, if not contemptuous, treatment of his mother. 

There is a sweetness as well as a bitterness of grief; and something likea feeling of joy and gladness will spring up in the mother's heart, andmingle with and soothe her sorrow, if she can think of her boy, when heis gone, as always docile, tractable, submissive to her authority, andobedient to her commands. Such recollections, it is true, can not avail toremove her grief--perhaps not even to diminish its intensity; but they willgreatly assuage the bitterness of it, and wholly take away its _sting_. 

CHAPTER IV. 

GENTLE PUNISHMENT OF DISOBEDIENCE. 

Children have no natural instinct of obedience to their parents, thoughthey have other instincts by means of which the habit of obedience, as anacquisition, can easily be formed. 

The true state of the case is well illustrated by what we observe among thelower animals. The hen can call her chickens when she has food for them, orwhen any danger threatens, and they come to her. They come, however, simplyunder the impulse of a desire for food or fear of danger, not from anyinstinctive desire to conform their action to their mother's will; or, inother words, with no idea of submission to parental authority. It is so, substantially, with many other animals whose habits in respect to therelation between parents and offspring come under human observation. Thecolt and the calf follow and keep near the mother, not from any instinct ofdesire to conform their conduct to her will, but solely from love offood, or fear of danger. These last are strictly instinctive. They actspontaneously, and require no training of any sort to establish or tomaintain them. 

The case is substantially the same with children. They run to their motherby instinct, when want, fear, or pain impels them. They require no teachingor training for this. But for them to come simply because their motherwishes them to come--to be controlled, in other words, by her will, insteadof by their own impulses, is a different thing altogether. They have noinstinct for that. They have only a _capacity for its development_. 

_Instincts and Capacities_. 

It may, perhaps, be maintained that there is no real difference betweeninstincts and capacities, and it certainly is possible that they may passinto each other by insensible gradations. Still, practically, and inreference to our treatment of any intelligent nature which is in course ofgradual development under our influence, the difference is wide. The doghas an instinct impelling him to attach himself to and follow his master;but he has no instinct leading him to draw his master's cart. He requiresno teaching for the one. It comes, of course, from the connate impulses ofhis nature. For the other he requires a skillful and careful training. Ifwe find a dog who evinces no disposition to seek the society of man, butroams off into woods and solitudes alone, he is useless, and we attributethe fault to his own wolfish nature. But if he will not fetch and carry atcommand, or bring home a basket in his mouth from market, the fault, ifthere be any fault, is in his master, in not having taken the proper timeand pains to train him, or in not knowing how to do it. He has an instinctleading him to attach himself to a human master, and to follow his masterwherever he goes. But he has no instinct leading him to fetch and carry, orto draw carts for any body. If he shows no affection for man, it is his ownfault--that is, the fault of his nature. But if he does not fetch and carrywell, or go out of the room when he is ordered out, or draw steadily in acart, it is his teacher's fault. He has not been properly trained. 

_Who is Responsible?_

So with the child. If he does not seem to know how to take his food, orshows no disposition to run to his mother when he is hurt or when he isfrightened, we have reason to suspect something wrong, or, at least, something abnormal, in his mental or physical constitution. But if he doesnot obey his mother's commands--no matter how insubordinate or unmanageablehe may be--the fault does not, certainly, indicate any thing at all wrongin _him_. The fault is in his training. In witnessing his disobedience, our reflection should be, not "What a bad boy!" but "What an unfaithful orincompetent mother!"

I have dwelt the longer on this point because it is fundamental As long asa mother imagines, as so many mothers seem to do, that obedience on thepart of the child is, or ought to be, a matter of course, she will neverproperly undertake the work of training him. But when she thoroughlyunderstands and feels that her children are not to be expected to submittheir will to hers, _except so far as she forms in them the habit of doingthis by special training_, the battle is half won. 

_Actual Instincts of Children_. 

The natural instinct which impels her children to come at once to her forrefuge and protection in all their troubles and fears, is a great source ofhappiness to every mother. This instinct shows itself in a thousand ways. "A mother, one morning"--I quote the anecdote from a newspaper[B] whichcame to hand while I was writing this chapter--"gave her two little onesbooks and toys to amuse them, while she went to attend to some work in anupper room. Half an hour passed quietly, and then a timid voice at the footof the stairs called out:

"'Mamma, are you there?'

"'Yes, darling. '

"'All right, then!' and the child went back to its play. 

"By-and-by the little voice was heard again, repeating, "'Mamma, are you there?'

"'Yes. '

"'All right, then;' and the little ones returned again, satisfied andreassured, to their toys. "

The sense of their mother's presence, or at least the certainty of herbeing near at hand, was necessary to their security and contentment intheir plays. But this feeling was not the result of any teachings that theyhad received from their mother, or upon her having inculcated upon theirminds in any way the necessity of their keeping always within reach ofmaternal protection; nor had it been acquired by their own observation orexperience of dangers or difficulties which had befallen them when too faraway. It was a native instinct of the soul--the same that leads the lamband the calf to keep close to their mother's side, and causes the unweanedbabe to cling to its mother's bosom, and to shrink from being put away intothe crib or cradle alone. 

_The Responsibility rests upon the Mother_. 

The mother is thus to understand that the principle of obedience is notto be expected to come by nature into the heart of her child, but to beimplanted by education. She must understand this so fully as to feel thatif she finds that her children are disobedient to her commands--leaving outof view cases of peculiar and extraordinary temptation--it is _her_ fault, not theirs. Perhaps I ought not to say her _fault_ exactly, for she mayhave done as well as she knows how; but, at any rate, her failure. Instead, therefore, of being angry with them, or fretting and complaining about thetrouble they give her, she should leave them, as it were, out of the case, and turn her thoughts to herself, and to her own management, with a view tothe discovery and the correcting of her own derelictions and errors. Ina word, she must set regularly and systematically about the work of_teaching_ her children to subject their will to hers. 

_Three Methods_. 

I shall give three principles of management, or rather three differentclasses of measures, by means of which children may certainly be madeobedient. The most perfect success will be attained by employing them all. But they require very different degrees of skill and tact on the partof the mother. The first requires very little skill. It demands onlysteadiness, calmness, and perseverance. The second draws much more uponthe mother's mental resources, and the last, most of all. Indeed, as willpresently be seen, there is no limit to the amount of tact and ingenuity, not to say genius, which may be advantageously exercised in the lastmethod. The first is the most essential; and it will alone, if faithfullycarried out, accomplish the end. The second, if the mother has the tactand skill to carry it into effect, will aid very much in accomplishing theresult, and in a manner altogether more agreeable to both parties. Thethird will make the work of forming the habit of obedience on the part ofthe mother, and of acquiring it on the part of the child, a source of thehighest enjoyment to both. But then, unfortunately, it requires more skilland dexterity, more gentleness of touch, so to speak, and a more delicateconstitution of soul, than most mothers can be expected to possess. 

But let us see what the three methods are. 

_First Method_. 

1. The first principle is that the mother should so regulate her managementof her child, that he should _never_ gain any desired end by any act ofinsubmission, but _always_ incur some small trouble, inconvenience, orprivation, by disobeying or neglecting to obey his mother's command. The important words in this statement of the principle are _never_ and_always_. It is the absolute certainty that disobedience will hurt him, andnot help him, in which the whole efficacy of the rule consists. 

It is very surprising how small a punishment will prove efficacious if itis only _certain_ to follow the transgression. You may set apart a certainplace for a prison--a corner of the sofa, a certain ottoman, a chair, astool, any thing will answer; and the more entirely every thing like anair of displeasure or severity is excluded, in the manner of making thepreliminary arrangements, the better. A mother without any tact, or anyproper understanding of the way in which the hearts and minds of youngchildren are influenced, will begin, very likely, with a scolding. 

"Children, you are getting very disobedient. I have to speak three or fourtimes before you move to do what I say. Now, I am going to have a prison. The prison is to be that dark closet, and I am going to shut you up init for half an hour every time you disobey. Now, remember! The very nexttime!"

_Empty Threatening_. 

Mothers who govern by threatening seldom do any thing but threaten. Accordingly, the first time the children disobey her, after such anannouncement, she says nothing, if the case happens to be one in which thedisobedience occasions her no particular trouble. The next time, when thetransgression is a little more serious, she thinks, very rightlyperhaps, that to be shut up half an hour in a dark closet would be adisproportionate punishment. Then, when at length some very willful andgrave act of insubordination occurs, she happens to be in particularlygood-humor, for some reason, and has not the heart to shut "the poor thing"in the closet; or, perhaps, there is company present, and she does not wishto make a scene. So the penalty announced with so much emphasis turns outto be a dead letter, as the children knew it would from the beginning. 

_How Discipline may be both Gentle and Efficient_. 

With a little dexterity and tact on the mother's part, the case may bemanaged very differently, and with a very different result. Let us supposethat some day, while she is engaged with her sewing or her other householdduties, and her children are playing around her, she tells them that insome great schools in Europe, when the boys are disobedient, or violate therules, they are shut up for punishment in a kind of prison; and perhaps sheentertains them with invented examples of boys that would not go to prison, and had to be taken there by force, and kept there longer on account oftheir contumacy; and also of other noble boys, tall and handsome, and thebest players on the grounds, who went readily when they had done wrong andwere ordered into confinement, and bore their punishment like men, and whowere accordingly set free all the sooner on that account. Then she proposesto them the idea of adopting that plan herself, and asks them to lookall about the room and find a good seat which they can have for theirprison--one end of the sofa, perhaps, a stool in a corner, or a box used asa house for a kitten. I once knew an instance where a step before a doorleading to a staircase served as penitentiary, and sitting upon it fora minute or less was the severest punishment required to maintain mostperfect discipline in a family of young children for a long time. 

When any one of the children violated any rule or direction which had beenenjoined upon them--as, for example, when they left the door open in comingin or going out, in the winter; or interrupted their mother when she wasreading, instead of standing quietly by her side and waiting until shelooked up from her book and gave them leave to speak to her; or used anyviolence towards each other, by pushing, or pulling, or struggling for aplaything or a place; or did not come promptly to her when called; ordid not obey at once the first command in any case, the mother would saysimply, "Mary!" or "James! Prison!" She would pronounce this sentencewithout any appearance of displeasure, and often with a smile, as if theywere only playing prison, and then, in a very few minutes after they hadtaken the penitential seat, she would say _Free_! which word set them atliberty again. 

_Must begin at the Beginning_. 

I have no doubt that some mothers, in reading this, will say that suchmanagement as this is mere trifling and play; and that real and actualchildren, with all their natural turbulence, insubordination, andobstinacy, can never be really governed by any such means. I answer thatwhether it proves on trial to be merely trifling and play or not dependsupon the firmness, steadiness, and decision with which the mothercarries it into execution. Every method of management requires firmness, perseverance, and decision on the part of the mother to make it successful, but, with these qualities duly exercised, it is astonishing what slight andgentle penalties will suffice for the most complete establishment of herauthority. I knew a mother whose children were trained to habits of almostperfect obedience, and whose only method of punishment, so far as I know, was to require the offender to stand on one foot and count five, ten, ortwenty, according to the nature and aggravation of the offense. Such amother, of course, begins early with her children. She trains them fromtheir earliest years to this constant subjection of their will to hers. Such penalties, moreover, owe their efficiency not to the degree of painor inconvenience that they impose upon the offender, but mainly upon their_calling his attention, distinctly_, after every offense, to the fact thathe has done wrong. Slight as this is, it will prove to be sufficient if it_always_ comes--if no case of disobedience or of willful wrong-doing of anykind is allowed to pass unnoticed, or is not followed by the infliction ofthe proper penalty. It is in all cases the certainty, and not the severity, of punishment which constitutes its power. 

_Suppose one is not at the Beginning_. 

What has been said thus far relates obviously to cases where the mother isat the commencement of her work of training. This is the way to _begin_;but you can not begin unless you are at the beginning. If your childrenare partly grown, and you find that they are not under your command, the difficulty is much greater. The principles which should govern themanagement are the same, but they can not be applied by means so gentle. The prison, it may be, must now be somewhat more real, the terms ofimprisonment somewhat longer, and there may be cases of insubordination sodecided as to require the offender to be carried to it by force, on accountof his refusal to go of his own accord, and perhaps to be held there, oreven to be tied. Cases requiring treatment so decisive as this must be veryrare with children under ten years of age; and when they occur, themother has reason to feel great self-condemnation--or at least greatself-abasement--at finding that she has failed so entirely in the firstgreat moral duty of the mother, which is to train her children to completesubmission to her authority from the beginning. 

_Children coming under New Control_. 

Sometimes, however, it happens that children are transferred from onecharge to another, so that the one upon whom the duty of governmentdevolves, perhaps only for a time, finds that the child or children putunder his or her charge have been trained by previous mismanagement tohabits of utter insubordination. I say, trained to such habits, for thepractice of allowing children to gain their ends by any particular means isreally training them to the use of those means. Thus multitudes ofchildren are taught to disobey, and trained to habits of insubmission andinsubordination, by the means most effectually adapted to that end. 

_Difficulties_. 

When under these circumstances the children come under a new charge, whether permanently or temporarily, the task of re-form in or theircharacters is more delicate and difficult than where one can begin at thebeginning; but the principles are the same, and the success is equallycertain. The difficulty is somewhat increased by the fact that the personthus provisionally in charge has often no natural authority over the child, and the circumstances may moreover be such as to make it necessary toabstain carefully from any measures that would lead to difficulty orcollision, to cries, complaints to the mother, or any of those other formsof commotion or annoyance, which ungoverned children know so well how toemploy in gaining their ends. The mother may be one of those weak-mindedwomen who can never see any thing unreasonable in the crying complaintsmade by their children against other people. Or she may be sick, and it maybe very important to avoid every thing that could agitate or disturb her. 

_George and Egbert_. 

This last was the case of George, a young man of seventeen, who came tospend some time at home after an absence of two years in the city. He foundhis mother sick, and his little brother, Egbert, utterly insubordinate andunmanageable. 

"The first thing I have to do, " said George to himself, when he observedhow things were, "is to get command of Egbert;" and as the first lessonwhich he gave his little brother illustrates well the principle of gentlebut efficient punishment, I will give it here. 

Egbert was ten years of age. He was very fond of going a-fishing, but hewas not allowed to go alone. His mother, very weak and vacillating aboutsome things, was extremely decided about this. So Egbert had learned tosubmit to this restriction, as he would have done to all others if hismother had been equally decided in respect to all. 

The first thing that Egbert thought of the next morning after his brother'sreturn was that George might go a-fishing with him. 

"I don't know, " replied George, in a hesitating and doubtful tone. "I don'tknow whether it will do for me to go a-fishing with you. I don't knowwhether I can depend upon your always obeying me and doing as I say. "

Egbert made very positive promises, and so it was decided to go. Georgetook great interest in helping Egbert about his fishing-tackle, and did allin his power in other ways to establish friendly relations with him, andat length they set out. They walked a little distance down what was in thewinter a wood road, and then came to a place where two paths led into awood. Either of them led to the river. But there was a brook to cross, andfor one of these paths there was a bridge. There was none for the other. George said that they would take the former. Egbert, however, paid noregard to this direction, but saying simply "No, I'd rather go this way, "walked off in the other path. 

"I was afraid you would not obey me, " said George, and then turned andfollowed Egbert into the forbidden path, without making any furtherobjection. Egbert concluded at once that he should find George as easily tobe managed as he had found other people. 

_The Disobedience_. 

When they came in sight of the brook, George saw that there was a narrowlog across it, in guise of a bridge. He called out to Egbert, who had goneon before him, not to go over the log until _he_ came. But Egbert calledback in reply that there was no danger, that he could go across alone, andso went boldly over. George, on arriving at the brook, and finding that thelog was firm and strong, followed Egbert over it. "I told you I could goacross it, " said Egbert. "Yes, " replied George, "and you were right inthat. You did cross it. The log is very steady. I think it makes quite agood bridge. "

Egbert said he could hop across it on one foot, and George gave him leaveto try, while he, George, held his fishing-pole for him. George followedhim over the log, and then told him that he was very sorry to say it, butthat he found that they could not go a-fishing that day. Egbert wished toknow the reason. George said it was a private reason and he could not tellhim then, but that he would tell him that evening after he had gone to bed. There was a story about it, too, he said, that he would tell him at thesame time. 

Egbert was curious to know what the reason could be for changing the plan, and also to hear the story. Still he was extremely disappointed in havingto lose his fishing, and very much disposed to be angry with George fornot going on. It was, however, difficult to get very angry without knowingGeorge's reason, and George, though he said that the reason was a goodone--that it was a serious difficulty in the way of going a-fishing thatday, which had only come to his knowledge since they left home, steadilypersisted in declining to explain what the difficulty was until theevening, and began slowly to walk back toward the house. 

_Egbert becomes Sullen_. 

Egbert then declared that, at any rate, he would not go home. If he couldnot go a-fishing he would stay there in the woods. George readily fell inwith this idea. "Here is a nice place for me to sit down on this flat rockunder the trees, " said he, "and I have got a book in my pocket. You canplay about in the woods as long as you please. Perhaps you will see asquirrel; if you do, tell me, and I will come and help you catch him. " Sosaying, he took out his book and sat down under the trees and began toread. Egbert, after loitering about sullenly a few minutes, began to walkup the path, and said that he was going home. 

George, however, soon succeeded in putting him in good-humor again bytalking with him in a friendly manner, and without manifesting any signs ofdispleasure, and also by playing with him on the way. He took care to keepon friendly terms with him all the afternoon, aiding him in his variousundertakings, and contributing to his amusement in every way as much as hecould, while he made no complaint, and expressed no dissatisfaction withhim in any way whatever. 

_Final Disposition of the Case_. 

After Egbert had gone to bed, and before he went to sleep, George made hima visit at his bedside, and, after a little playful frolic with him, to puthim in special good-humor, said he would make his explanation. 

"The reason why I had to give up the fishing expedition, " he said, "was, Ifound that I could not depend upon your obeying me. "

Egbert, after a moment's pause, said that he did not disobey him; and whenGeorge reminded him of his taking the path that he was forbidden to take, and of his crossing the log bridge against orders, he said that that pathled to the river by the shortest way, and that he knew that the log wasfirm and steady, and that he could go over it without falling in. "Andso you thought you had good reasons for disobeying me, " rejoined George. "Yes, " said Egbert, triumphantly. "That is just it, " said George. "Youare willing to obey, except when you think you have good reasons fordisobeying, and then you disobey. That's the way a great many boys do, andthat reminds me of the story I was going to tell you. It is about somesoldiers. "

George then told Egbert a long story about a colonel who sent a captainwith a company of men on a secret expedition with specific orders, and thecaptain disobeyed the orders and crossed a stream with his force, when hehad been directed to remain on the hither side of it, thinking himself thatit would be better to cross, and in consequence of it he and all his forcewere captured by the enemy, who were lying in ambush near by, as thecolonel knew, though the captain did not know it. George concluded hisstory with some very forcible remarks, showing, in a manner adapted toEgbert's state of mental development, how essential it was to the characterof a good soldier that he should obey implicitly all the commands of hissuperior, without ever presuming to disregard them on the ground of hisseeing good reason for doing so. 

He then went on to relate another story of an officer on whom the generalcould rely for implicit and unhesitating obedience to all his commands, andwho was sent on an important expedition with orders, the reasons for whichhe did not understand, but all of which he promptly obeyed, and thusbrought the expedition to a successful conclusion. He made the storyinteresting to Egbert by narrating many details of a character adaptedto Egbert's comprehension, and at the end drew a moral from it for hisinstruction. 

_The Moral_. 

This moral was not, as some readers might perhaps anticipate, and as, indeed, many persons of less tact might have made it, that Egbert oughthimself, as a boy, to obey those in authority over him. Instead of this heclosed by saying: "And I advise you, if you grow up to be a man and everbecome the general of an army, never to trust any captain or colonel withthe charge of an important enterprise, unless they are men that know howto obey. " Egbert answered very gravely that he was "determined that hewouldn't. "

Soon after this George bade him good-night and went away. The next day hetold Egbert not to be discouraged at his not having yet learned to obey. "There are a great many boys older than you, " he said, "who have notlearned this lesson; but you will learn in time. I can't go a-fishing withyou, or undertake any other great expeditions, till I find I can trust youentirely to do exactly as I say in cases where I have a right to decide;but you will learn before long, and then we can do a great many thingstogether which we can not do now. "

_The Principles Illustrated_. 

Any one who has any proper understanding of the workings of the juvenilemind will see that George, by managing Egbert on these principles, would ina short time acquire complete ascendency over him, while the boy wouldvery probably remain, in relation to his mother, as disobedient andinsubordinate as ever. If the penalty annexed to the transgression is madeas much as possible the necessary and natural consequence of it, and isinsisted upon calmly, deliberately, and with inflexible decision, butwithout irritation, without reproaches, almost without any indications evenof displeasure, but is, on the contrary, lightened as much as possibleby sympathy and kindness, and by taking the most indulgent views, andadmitting the most palliating considerations in respect to the natureof the offense, the result will certainly be the establishment of theauthority of the parent or guardian on a firm and permanent basis. 

There are a great many cases of this kind, where a child with confirmedhabits of insubordination comes under the charge of a person who is notresponsible for the formation of these habits. Even the mother herselfsometimes finds herself in substantially this position with her ownchildren; as, for example, when after some years of lax and inefficientgovernment she becomes convinced that her management has been wrong, andthat it threatens to bring forth bitter fruits unless it is reformed. Inthese cases, although the work is somewhat more difficult, the principleson which success depends are the same. Slight penalties, firmly, decisively, and invariably enforced--without violence, without scolding, without any manifestation of resentment or anger, and, except in extremecases, without even expressions of displeasure--constitute a system which, if carried out calmly, but with firmness and decision, will assuredlysucceed. 

_The real Difficulty_. 

The case would thus seem to be very simple, and success very easy. But, alas! this is far from being the case. Nothing is required, it is true, butfirmness, steadiness, and decision; but, unfortunately, these are the veryrequisites which, of all others, it seems most difficult for mothers tocommand. They can not govern their children because they can not governthemselves. 

Still, if the mother possess these qualities in any tolerable degree, or isable to acquire them, this method of training her children to the habit ofsubmitting implicitly to her authority, by calmly and good-naturedly, butfirmly and invariably, affixing some slight privation or penalty to everyact of resistance to her will, is the easiest to practice, and willcertainly be successful. It requires no ingenuity, no skill, nocontrivance, no thought--nothing but steady persistence in a simpleroutine. This was the first of the three modes of action enumerated at thecommencement of this discussion. There were two others named, which, thoughrequiring higher qualities in the mother than simple steadiness of purpose, will make the work far more easy and agreeable, where these qualities arepossessed. 

Some further consideration of the subject of punishment, with specialreference to the light in which it is to be regarded in respect to itsnature and its true mode of action, will occupy the next chapter. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE PHILOSOPHY OF PUNISHMENT. 

It is very desirable that every parent and teacher should have a distinctand clear conception of the true nature of punishment, and of the precisemanner in which it is designed to act in repressing offenses. This isnecessary in order that the punitive measures which he may employ mayaccomplish the desired good, and avoid the evils which so often follow intheir train. 

_Nature and Design of Punishment_. 

The first question which is to be considered in determining upon theprinciples to be adopted and the course to be pursued with children inrespect to punishment, is, which of the two views in respect to the natureand design of punishment which prevail in the minds of men we will adopt inshaping our system. For, 1. Punishment may be considered in the light of a vindictive retributionfor sin--a penalty demanded by the eternal principles of justice as thenatural and proper sequel and complement of the past act of transgression, with or without regard to any salutary effects that may result from it inrespect to future acts. Or, 2. It may be considered as a remedial measure, adopted solely withreference to its influence as a means of deterring the subject of it, orothers, from transgression in time to come. 

According to the first view, punishment is a _penalty_ which _justice_demands as a satisfaction for the past. According to the other it is a_remedy_ which _goodness_ devises for the benefit of the future. 

Theologians have lost themselves in endless speculations on the questionhow far, in the government of God, punishment is to be considered aspossessing one or the other of these two characters, or both combined. There seems to be also some uncertainty in the minds of men in relation tothe precise light in which the penalties of violated law are to beregarded by civil governments, and the spirit in which they are to beadministered--they being apparently, as prescribed and employed by mostgovernments, in some respects, and to some extent, retributive andvindictive, and in other respects remedial and curative. 

It would seem, however, that in respect to school and family governmentthere could be no question on this point. The punishment of a child by aparent, or of a pupil by a teacher, ought certainly, one would think, to exclude the element of vindictive retribution altogether, and to beemployed solely with reference to the salutary influences that may beexpected from it in time to come. If the injunction "Vengeance is mine, Iwill repay it, saith the Lord" is to be recognized at all, it certainlyought to be acknowledged here. 

This principle, once fully and cordially admitted, simplifies the subjectof punishment, as administered by parents and teachers, very much. Oneextremely important and very striking result of it will appear from amoment's reflection. It is this, namely:

It excludes completely and effectually all manifestations of irritation orexcitement in the infliction of punishment--all harsh tones of voice, allscowling or angry looks, all violent or threatening gesticulations, andevery other mode, in fact, of expressing indignation or passion. Suchindications as these are wholly out of place in punishment considered asthe _application of a remedy_ devised beneficently with the sole view ofaccomplishing a future good. They comport only with punishment consideredas vengeance, or a vindictive retribution for the past sin. 

This idea is fundamental. The mother who is made angry by the misconduct ofher children, and punishes them in a passion, acts under the influence of abrute instinct. Her family government is in principle the same as thatof the lower animals over their young. It is, however, at any rate, a_government_; and such government is certainly better than none. But humanparents, in the training of their human offspring, ought surely to aim atsomething higher and nobler. They who do so, who possess themselves fullywith the idea that punishment, as they are to administer it, is whollyremedial in its character--that is to say, is to be considered solely withreference to the future good to be attained by it, will have established intheir minds a principle that will surely guide them into right ways, andbring them out successfully in the end. They will soon acquire the habit ofnever threatening, of never punishing in anger, and of calmly considering, in the case of the faults which they observe in their children, what courseof procedure will be most effectual in correcting them. 

Parents seem sometimes to have an idea that a manifestation of somethinglike anger--or, at least, very serious displeasure on their part--isnecessary in order to make a proper impression in respect to its fault onthe mind of the child. This, however, I think, is a mistake. The impressionis made by what we _do_, and not by the indications of irritation ordispleasure which we manifest in doing it. To illustrate this, I will statea case, narrating all its essential points just as it occurred. The case isvery analogous, in many particulars, to that of Egbert and George relatedin the last chapter. 

_Mary's Walk_. 

"Mary, " said Mary's aunt, Jane, who had come to make a visit at Mary'smother's in the country, "I am going to the village this afternoon, and ifyou would like you may go with me. "

Mary was, of course, much pleased with this invitation. 

"A part of the way, " continued her aunt, "is by a path across the fields. While we are there you must keep in the path all the time, for it rained alittle this morning, and I am afraid that the grass may not be quite dry. "

"Yes, Aunt Jane; I'll keep in the path, " said Mary. 

So they set out on the walk together. When they came to the gate which ledto the path across the fields, Aunt Jane said, "Remember, Mary, you mustkeep in the path. "

Mary said nothing, but ran forward. Pretty soon she began to walk a littleon the margin of the grass, and, before long, observing a place where thegrass was short and where the sun shone, she ran out boldly upon it, andthen, looking down at her shoes, she observed that they were not wet. Sheheld up one of her feet to her aunt as she came opposite to the place, saying, "See, aunt, the grass is not wet at all. "

"I see it is not, " said her aunt. "I _thought_ it would not be wet; thoughI was not sure but that it might be. But come, " she added, holding out herhand, "I have concluded not to go to the village, after all. We are goingback home. "

"Oh, Aunt Jane!" said Mary, following her aunt as she began retracing hersteps along the path. "What is that for?"

"I have altered my mind, " said her aunt. 

"What makes you alter your mind?"

By this time Aunt Jane had taken hold of Mary's hand, and they were walkingtogether along the path towards home. 

"Because you don't obey me, " she said. 

"Why, auntie, " said Mary, "the grass was not wet at all where I went. "

"No, " said her aunt, "it was perfectly dry. "

"And it did not do any harm at all for me to walk upon it, " said Mary. 

"Not a bit of harm, " said her aunt. 

"Then why are you going home?" asked Mary. 

"Because you don't obey me, " replied her aunt. 

"You see, " said her aunt, "there is one thing about this that you don'tunderstand, because you are such a little girl. You will understand itby-and-by, when you grow older; and I don't blame you for not knowing itnow, because you are so young. "

"What is it that I don't know?" asked Mary. 

"I am afraid you would not understand it very well if I were to explainit, " replied her aunt. 

"Try me, " said Mary. 

"Well, you see, " replied her aunt, "I don't feel safe with any child thatdoes not obey me. This time no harm was done, because the grass happened tobe dry; but farther on there was a brook. I might have told you not to gonear the brink of the brook for fear of your falling in. Then you mighthave gone, notwithstanding, if you thought there was no danger, just as youwent out upon the grass because you thought it was not wet, notwithstandingmy saying that you must keep in the path. So you see I never feel safe intaking walks in places where there is any danger with children that I cannot always depend upon to do exactly what I say. "

Mary was, of course, now ready to make profuse promises that she wouldobey her aunt in future on all occasions and began to beg that she wouldcontinue her walk to the village. 

"No, " said her aunt, "I don't think it would be quite safe for me to trustto your promises, though I have no doubt you honestly mean to keep them. But you remember you promised me that you would keep in the path when weplanned this walk; and yet when the time of temptation came you could notkeep the promise; but you will learn. When I am going on some perfectlysafe walk I will take you with me again; and if I stay here some time youwill learn to obey me so perfectly that I can take you with me to anyplace, no matter how dangerous it may be. "

Aunt Jane thus gently, but firmly, persisted in abandoning the walk to thevillage, and returning home; but she immediately turned the conversationaway from the subject of Mary's fault, and amused her with stories andaided her in gathering flowers, just as if nothing had happened; and whenshe arrived at home she said nothing to any one of Mary's disobedience. Here now was punishment calculated to make a very strong impression--butstill without scolding, without anger, almost, in fact, without even anymanifestations of displeasure. And yet how long can any reasonable personsuppose it would be before Mary would learn, if her aunt acted invariablyon the same principles, to submit implicitly to her will?

_A Different Management_. 

Compare the probable result of this mode of management with the scoldingand threatening policy. Suppose Aunt Jane had called to Mary angrily, "Mary! Mary! come directly back into the path. I told you not to go out ofthe path, and you are a very naughty child to disobey me. The next time youdisobey me in that way I will send you directly home. "

Mary would have been vexed and irritated, perhaps, and would have said toherself, "How cross Aunt Jane is to-day!" but the "next time" she wouldhave been as disobedient as ever. 

If mothers, instead of scowling, scolding, and threatening now, and puttingoff doing the thing that ought to be done to the "next time, " would dothat thing at once, and give up the scowling, scolding, and threateningaltogether, they would find all parties immensely benefited by the change. 

It is evident, moreover, that by this mode of management the punishment isemployed not in the way of retribution, but as a remedy. Mary loses herwalk not on the ground that she deserved to lose it, but because it was notsafe to continue it. 

_An Objection_. 

Some mother may perhaps say, in reference to the case of Mary and her aunt, that it may be all very well in theory, but that practically mothers havenot the leisure and the means for adopting such moderate measures. We cannot stop, she may say, every time we are going to the village, on importantbusiness perhaps, and turn back and lose the afternoon on account of thewaywardness of a disobedient child. 

My answer is that it will not have to be done _every time, _ but only veryseldom. The effect of acting once or twice on this principle, with thecertainty on the part of the child that the mother or the aunt will alwaysact so when the occasion calls for it, very soon puts an end to allnecessity for such action. Indeed, if Mary, in the instance above given, had been managed in this way from infancy, she would not have thought ofleaving the path when forbidden to do so. It is only in some such case asthat of an aunt who knows how to manage right, coming as a visitor into thefamily of a mother who manages wrong, that such an incident as this couldoccur. 

Still it must be admitted that the gentle methods of discipline, whichreason and common sense indicate as the true ones for permanentlyinfluencing the minds of children and forming their characters, do, ineach individual case, require more time and care than the cuffs and slapsdictated by passion. A box on the ear, such as a cat gives to a rebelliouskitten, is certainly the _quickest_ application that can be made. Themeasures that are calculated to reach and affect the heart can not vie withblows and scoldings in respect to the promptness of their action. Still, the parent or the teacher who will begin to act on the principles hererecommended with children while they are young will find that such methodsare far more prompt in their action and more effectual in immediate resultsthan they would suppose, and that they will be the means of establishingthe only kind of authority that is really worthy of the name more rapidlythan any other. 

The special point, however, with a view to which these illustrations areintroduced, is, as has been already remarked, that penalties of thisnature, and imposed in this spirit, are not vindictive, but simply remedialand reformatory. They are not intended to satisfy the sense of justice forwhat is past, but only to secure greater safety and happiness in time tocome. 

_The Element of Invariableness_. 

Punishments may be very light and gentle in their character, provided theyare certain to follow the offense. It is in their _certainty_, and not intheir _severity_, that the efficiency of them lies. Very few children areever severely burnt by putting their fingers into the flame of a candle. They are effectually taught not to put them in by very slight burnings, on account of the _absolute invariableness_ of the result produced by thecontact. 

Mothers often do not understand this. They attempt to cure some habitualfault by scoldings and threats, and declarations of what they willcertainly do "next time, " and perhaps by occasional acts of real severityin cases of peculiar aggravation, instead of a quiet, gentle, andcomparatively trifling infliction in _every instance_ of the fault, whichwould be altogether more effectual. 

A child, for example, has acquired the habit of leaving the door open. Nowoccasionally scolding him, when it is specially cold, and now and thenshutting him up in a closet for half an hour, will never cure him of thefault. But if there were an automaton figure standing by the side of thedoor, to say to him _every time_ that he came through without shutting it, _Door_! which call should be a signal to him to go back and shut the door, and then sit down in a chair near by and count ten; and if this slightpenalty was _invariably_ enforced, he would be most effectually cured ofthe fault in a very short time. 

Now, the mother can not be exactly this automaton, for she can not alwaysbe there; but she can recognize the principle, and carry it into effect asfar as possible--that is, _invariably, when she is there_. And though shewill not thus cure the boy of the fault so soon as the automaton would doit, she will still do it very soon. 

_Irritation and Anger_. 

Avoid, as much as possible, every thing of an irritating character in thepunishments inflicted, for to irritate frequently the mind of a childtends, of course, to form within him an irritable and unamiable temper. Itis true, perhaps, that it is not possible absolutely to avoid this effectof punishment in all cases; but a great deal may be done to diminish theevil by the exercise of a little tact and ingenuity on the part of themother whose attention is once particularly directed to the subject. 

The first and most important measure of precaution on this point isthe absolute exclusion of every thing like angry looks and words asaccompaniments of punishment. If you find that any wrong which your childcommits awakens irritation or anger in your mind, suspend your judgmentof the case and postpone all action until the irritation and anger havesubsided, and you can consider calmly and deliberately what to do, witha view, not of satisfying your own resentment, but of doing good to thechild. Then, when you have decided what to do, carry your decision intoeffect in a good-natured manner--firmly and inflexibly--but still withoutany violence, or even harshness, of manner. 

_Co-operation of the Offender_. 

There are many cases in which, by the exercise of a little tact andingenuity, the parent can actually secure the _co-operation_ of the childin the infliction of the punishment prescribed for the curing of a fault. There are many advantages in this, when it can be done. It gives the childan interest in curing himself of the fault; it makes the punishment moreeffectual; and it removes almost all possibility of its producing anyirritation or resentment in his mind. To illustrate this we will give acase. It is of no consequence, for the purpose of this article, whether itis a real or an imaginary one. 

Little Egbert, seven years old, had formed the habit so common amongchildren of wasting a great deal of time in dressing himself, so as not tobe ready for breakfast when the second bell rang. His mother offered hima reward if he would himself devise any plan that would cure him of thefault. 

"I don't know what to do, exactly, to cure you, " she said; "but if you willthink of any plan that will really succeed, I will give you an excursion ina carriage. "

"How far?" asked Egbert. 

"Ten miles, " said his mother. "I will take you in a carriage on anexcursion anywhere you say, for ten miles, if you will find out some way tocure yourself of this fault. "

"I think you ought to punish me, " said Egbert, speaking in rather a timidtone. 

"That's just it, " said his mother, "It is for you to think of some kind ofpunishment that won't be too disagreeable for me to inflict, and which willyet be successful in curing you of the fault. I will allow you a fortnightto get cured. If you are not cured in a fortnight I shall think thepunishment is not enough, or that it is not of a good kind; but if it worksso well as to cure you in a fortnight, then you shall have the ride. "

Egbert wished to know whether he must think of the punishment himself, orwhether his sister Mary might help him. His mother gave him leave toask any body to help him that he pleased. Mary, after some reflection, recommended that, whenever he was not dressed in time, he was to have onlyone lump of sugar, instead of four, in his tumbler of water for breakfast. 

His usual drink at breakfast was a tumbler of water, with four lumps ofsugar in it. The first bell was rung at half-past six, and breakfast wasat half-past seven. His sister recommended that, as half an hour was ampletime for the work of dressing, Egbert should go down every morning andreport himself ready before the clock struck seven. If he failed of this, he was to have only one lump of sugar, instead of four, in his glass ofwater. 

There was some question about the necessity of requiring him to be readybefore seven; Egbert being inclined to argue that if he was ready bybreakfast-time, that would be enough. But Mary said no. "To allow you afull hour to dress, " she said, "when half an hour is enough, may answervery well in respect to having you ready for breakfast, but it is no way tocure you of the fault. That would enable you to play half of the time whileyou are dressing, without incurring the punishment; but the way to cure youis to make it sure that you will have the punishment to bear if you play atall. "

So it was decided to allow only half an hour for the dressing-time. 

Egbert's mother said she was a little afraid about the one lump of sugarthat was left to him when he failed. 

"The plan _may_ succeed, " she said; "I am very willing that you should tryit; but I am afraid that when you are tempted to stop and play in the midstof your dressing, you will say, I shall have _one_ lump of sugar, at anyrate, and so will yield to the temptation. So perhaps it would be safer foryou to make the rule that you are not to have any sugar at all when youfail. Still, _perhaps_ your plan will succeed. You can try it and see. Ishould wish myself to have the punishment as slight as possible to producethe effect. "

By such management as this, it is plain that Egbert is brought into actualco-operation with his mother in the infliction of a punishment to cure himof a fault. It is true, that making such an arrangement as this, and thenleaving it to its own working, would lead to no result. As in the case ofall other plans and methods, it must be strictly, firmly, and perseveringlyfollowed up by the watchful efficiency of the mother. We can not_substitute_ the action of the child for that of the parent in the work ofearly training, but we can often derive very great advantage by securinghis cooperation. 

_Playful Punishments_. 

So true is it that the efficacy of any mode of punishment consists in the_certainty of its infliction_, that even playful punishments are in manycases sufficient to accomplish the cure of a fault. George, for example, was in the habit of continually getting into disputes and mild quarrelswith his sister Amelia, a year or two younger than himself. "I know it isvery foolish, " he said to his mother, when she was talking with him on thesubject one evening after he had gone to bed, and she had been tellinghim a story, and his mind was in a calm and tranquil state. "It is veryfoolish, but somehow I can't help it. I forget. "

"Then you must have some punishment to make you remember, " said his mother. 

"But sometimes _she_ is the one to blame, " said George, "and then she musthave the punishment. "

"No, " replied his mother. "When a lady and a gentleman become involved ina dispute in polite society, it is always the gentleman that must beconsidered to be to blame. "

"But Amelia and I are not polite society, " said George. 

"You ought to be, " said his mother. "At any rate, when you, an olderbrother, get into disputes with your sister, it is because you have notsense enough to manage so as to avoid them. If you were a little older andwiser you would have sense enough. "

"Well, mother, what shall the punishment be?" said George. 

"Would you really like to have a punishment, so as to cure yourself of thefault?" asked his mother. 

George said that he _would_ like one. 

"Then, " said his mother, "I propose that every time you get into a disputewith Amelia, you turn your jacket wrong side out, and wear it so a littlewhile as a symbol of folly. "

George laughed heartily at this idea, and said he should like such apunishment as that very much. It would only be fun, he said. His motherexplained to him that it would be fun, perhaps, two or three times, butafter that it would only be a trouble; but still, if they decided upon thatas a punishment, he must submit to it in every case. Every time he foundhimself getting into any dispute or difficulty with his sister, he muststop at once and turn his jacket inside out; and if he did not himselfthink to do this, she herself, if she was within hearing, would simply say, "Jacket!" and then he must do it. 

"No matter which of us is most to blame?" asked George. 

"You will always be the one that is most to blame, " replied his mother, "or, at least, almost always. When a boy is playing with a sister youngerthan himself, _he_ is the one that is most to blame for the quarrelling. His sister may be to blame by doing something wrong in the first instance;but he is the one to blame for allowing it to lead to a quarrel. If it is alittle thing, he ought to yield to her, and not to mind it; and if it isa great thing, he ought to go away and leave her, rather than to stop andquarrel about it. So you see you will be the one to blame for the quarrelin almost all cases. There may possibly be some cases where you will notbe to blame at all, and then you will have to be punished when you don'tdeserve it, and you must bear it like a man. This is a liability thathappens under all systems. "

"We will try the plan for one fortnight, " she continued. "So now remember, every single time that I hear you disputing or quarrelling with Amelia, youmust take off your jacket and put it on again wrong side out--no matterwhether you think you were to blame or not--and wear it so a few minutes. You can wear it so for a longer or shorter time, just as you think is bestto make the punishment effectual in curing you of the fault. By the end ofthe fortnight we shall be able to see whether the plan is working well anddoing any good. "

"So now, " continued his mother, "shut up your eyes and go to sleep. You area good boy to wish to cure yourself of such faults, and to be willing tohelp me in contriving ways to do it. And I have no doubt that you willsubmit to this punishment good-naturedly every time, and not make me anytrouble about it. "

Let it be remembered, now, that the efficacy of such management as thisconsists not in the devising of it, nor in holding such a conversation asthe above with the boy--salutary as this might be--but in the _faithfulnessand strictness with which it is followed up_ during the fortnight of trial. 

In the case in question, the progress which George made in diminishing histendency to get into disputes with his sister was so great that his mothertold him, at the end of the first fortnight, that their plan had succeeded"admirably"--so much so, she said, that she thought the punishment oftaking off his jacket and turning it inside out would be for the futureunnecessarily severe, and she proposed to substitute for it taking off hiscap, and putting it on wrong side before. 

The reader will, of course, understand that the object of such anillustration as this is not to recommend the particular measure heredescribed for adoption in other cases, but to illustrate the spirit andtemper of mind in which all measures adopted by the mother in the trainingof her children should be carried into effect. Measures that involve nothreats, no scolding, no angry manifestations of displeasure, but are evenplayful in their character, may be very efficient in action if they arefirmly and perseveringly maintained. 

_Punishments that are the Natural Consequence of the Offense_. 

There is great advantage in adapting the character of the punishment tothat of the fault--making it, as far as possible, the natural and properconsequence of it. For instance, if the boys of a school do not come inpromptly at the close of the twenty minutes' recess, but waste five minutesby their dilatoriness in obeying the summons of the bell, and the teacherkeeps them for _five minutes beyond the usual hour of dismissal_, to makeup for the lost time, the punishment may be felt by them to be deserved, and it may have a good effect in diminishing the evil it is intendedto remedy; but it will probably excite a considerable degree of mentalirritation, if not of resentment, on the part of the children, which willdiminish the good effect, or is, at any rate, an evil which is to beavoided if possible. 

If now, on the other hand, he assigns precisely the same penalty in anotherform, the whole of the good effect may be secured without the evil. Supposehe addresses the boys just before they are to go out at the next recess, asfollows:

"I think, boys, that twenty minutes is about the right length of time forthe recess, all told--that is, from the time you go out to the time whenyou are _all_ back in your seats again, quiet and ready to resume yourstudies. I found yesterday that it took five minutes for you all to comein--that is, that it was five minutes from the time the bell was rungbefore all were in their seats; and to-day I shall ring the bell after_fifteen_ minutes, so as to give you time to come in. If I find to-day thatit takes ten minutes, then I will give you more time to come in to-morrow, by ringing the bell after you have been out _ten_ minutes. "

"I am sorry to have you lose so much of your recess, and if you can makethe time for coming in shorter, then, of course, your recess can be longer. I should not wonder if, after a few trials, you should find that you couldall come in and get into your places in _one_ minute; and if so, I shallbe very glad, for then you can have an uninterrupted recess of _nineteen_minutes, which will be a great gain. "

Every one who has had any considerable experience in the management of boyswill readily understand how different the effect of this measure will befrom that of the other, while yet the penalty is in both cases preciselythe same--namely, the loss, for the boys, of five minutes of their play. 

_The Little Runaway_. 

In the same manner, where a child three or four years old was in the habit, when allowed to go out by himself in the yard to play, of running off intothe street, a very appropriate punishment would be to require him, for theremainder of the day, to stay in the house and keep in sight of his mother, on the ground that it was not safe to trust him by himself in the yard. This would be much better than sending him to bed an hour earlier, orsubjecting him to any other inconvenience or privation having no obviousconnection with the fault. For it is of the greatest importance to avoid, by every means, the exciting of feelings of irritation and resentmentin the mind of the child, so far as it is possible to do this withoutimpairing the efficiency of the punishment. It is not always possible to dothis. The efficiency of the punishment is, of course, the essential thing;but parents and teachers who turn their attention to the point will findthat it is much less difficult than one would suppose to secure thisend completely without producing the too frequent accompaniments ofpunishment--anger, ill-temper, and ill-will. 

[Illustration: "IT IS NOT SAFE"]

In the case, for example, of the child not allowed to go out into the yard, but required to remain in the house in sight of his mother, the mothershould not try to make the punishment _more heavy_ by speaking again andagain of his fault, and evincing her displeasure by trying to make theconfinement as irksome to the child as possible; but, on the other hand, should do all in her power to alleviate it. "I am very sorry, " she mightsay, "to have to keep you in the house. It would be much pleasanter for youto go out and play in the yard, if it was only safe. I don't blame you verymuch for running away. It is what foolish little children, as little asyou, very often do. I suppose you thought it would be good fun to run outa little way in the street. And it is good fun; but it is not safe. By-and-by, when you grow a little larger, you won't be so foolish, and thenI can trust you in the yard at any time without having to watch you at all. And now what can I get for you to amuse you while you stay in the housewith me?"

Punishment coming in this way, and administered in this spirit, willirritate the mind and injure the temper comparatively little; and, insteadof being less; will be much more effective in accomplishing the _rightkind_ of cure for the fault, than any stern, severe, and vindictiveretribution can possibly be. 

_The Question of Corporal Punishment_. 

The question of resorting to corporal punishment in the training of theyoung has been much, very much, argued and discussed on both sides bywriters on education; but it seems to me to be mainly a question ofcompetency and skill. If the parent or teacher has tact or skill enough, and practical knowledge enough of the workings of the youthful mind, he cangain all the necessary ascendency over it without resort to the violentinfliction of bodily pain in any form. If he has not these qualities, thenhe must turn to the next best means at his disposal; for it is better thata child should be trained and governed by the rod than not trained andgoverned at all. I do not suppose that savages could possibly control theirchildren without blows; while, on the other hand, Maria Edgeworth wouldhave brought under complete submission to her will a family of the mostardent and impulsive juveniles, perhaps without even a harsh word or afrown. If a mother begins with children at the beginning, is just and truein all her dealings with them, gentle in manner, but inflexibly firm inact, and looks constantly for Divine guidance and aid in her conscientiousefforts to do her duty, I feel quite confident that it will never benecessary for her to strike them. The necessity may, however, sooner orlater come, for aught I know, in the case of those who act on the contraryprinciple. Under such management, the rod may come to be the onlyalternative to absolute unmanageableness and anarchy. 

There will be occasion, however, to refer to this subject more fully in afuture chapter. 

CHAPTER VI. 

REWARDING OBEDIENCE. 

The mode of action described in the last two chapters for training childrento habits of obedience consisted in discouraging disobedience by connectingsome certain, though mild and gentle disadvantage, inconvenience, orpenalty, with every transgression. In this chapter is to be consideredanother mode, which is in some respects the converse of the first, inasmuchas it consists in the encouragement of obedience, by often--not necessarilyalways--connecting with it some advantage, or gain, or pleasure; or, asit may be stated summarily, the cautious encouragement of obedience byrewards. 

This method of action is more difficult than the other in the sense that itrequires more skill, tact, and delicacy of perception and discrimination tocarry it successfully into effect. The other demands only firm, but gentleand steady persistence. If the penalty, however slight it may be, _alwayscomes, _ the effect will take care of itself. But judiciously toadminister a system of rewards, or even of commendations, requires tact, discrimination, and skill. It requires some observation of the peculiarcharacteristics of the different minds acted upon, and of the effectsproduced, and often some intelligent modification of the measures isrequired, to fit them to varying circumstances and times. 

_Obedience must not be Bought_. 

If the bestowing of commendation and rewards is made a matter of mere blindroutine, as the assigning of gentle penalties may be, the result willbecome a mere system of _bribing_, or rather paying children to be good;and goodness that is bought, if it deserves the name of virtue at all, iscertainly virtue of a very inferior quality. 

Whether a reward conferred for obedience shall operate as a bribe, orrather as a price paid--for a _bribe_, strictly speaking, is a price paid, not for doing right, but for doing wrong--depends sometimes on very slightdifferences in the management of the particular case--differences which anundiscriminating mother will not be very ready to appreciate. 

A mother, for example, going into the village on a summer afternoon, leavesher children playing in the yard, under the general charge of Susan, whois at work in the kitchen, whence she can observe them from time to timethrough the open window. She thinks the children will be safe, providedthey remain in the yard. The only thing to be guarded against is the dangerthat they may go out through the gate into the road. 

_Two Different Modes of Management_. 

Under some circumstances, as, for example, where the danger to which theywould be exposed in going into the road was very great, or where the mothercan not rely upon her power to control her children's conduct by moralmeans in any way, the only safe method would be to fasten the gate. But ifshe prefers to depend for their safety on their voluntary obedience toher commands, and wishes, moreover, to promote the spirit of obedience byrewarding rather than punishing, she can make her rewards of the nature ofhire or not, according to her mode of management. 

If she wishes to _hire_ obedience, she has only to say to the children thatshe is going into the village for a little time, and that they may play inthe yard while she is gone, but must not go out of the gate; adding, thatshe is going to bring home some oranges or candies, which she will givethem if she finds that they have obeyed her, but which she will not givethem if they have disobeyed. 

Such a promise, provided the children have the double confidence in theirmother which such a method requires--namely, first, a full belief thatshe will really bring home the promised rewards, if they obey her; andsecondly--and this is a confidence much less frequently felt by children, and much less frequently deserved by their mothers--a conviction that, incase they disobey, no importunities on their part or promises for the nexttime will induce their mother to give them the good things, but that therewards will certainly be lost to them unless they are deserved, accordingto the conditions of the promise--in such a case--that is, when this doubleconfidence exists, the promise will have great influence upon the children. Still, it is, in its nature, _hiring_ them to obey. I do not say that thisis necessarily a bad plan, though I think there is a better. Children may, perhaps, be trained gradually to habits of obedience by a system of directrewards, and in a manner, too, far more agreeable to the parent andbetter for the child than by a system of compulsion through threats andpunishment. 

_The Method of Indirect Rewarding_. 

But there is another way of connecting pleasurable ideas and associationswith submission to parental authority in the minds of children, as a meansof alluring them to the habit of obedience--one that is both more efficientin its results and more healthful and salutary in its action than thepractice of bestowing direct recompenses and rewards. 

Suppose, for example, in the case above described, the mother, on leavingthe children, simply gives them the command that they are not to leave theyard, but makes no promises, and then, on returning from the village withthe bonbons in her bag, simply asks Susan, when she comes in, whether thechildren have obeyed her injunction not to leave the yard. If Susan saysyes, she nods to them, with a look of satisfaction and pleasure, and adds:"I thought they would obey me. I am very glad. Now I can trust them again. "

Then, by-and-by, towards the close of the day, perhaps, and when thechildren suppose that the affair is forgotten, she takes an opportunity tocall them to her, saying that she has something to tell them. 

"You remember when I went to the village to-day, I left you in the yardand said that you must not go out of the gate, and you obeyed. Perhaps youwould have liked to go out into the road and play there, but you would notgo because I had forbidden it. I am very glad that you obeyed. I thoughtof you when I was in the village, and I thought you would obey me. I feltquite safe about you. If you had been disobedient children, I should havefelt uneasy and anxious. But I felt safe. When I had finished my shopping, I thought I would buy you some bonbons, and here they are. You can go andsit down together on the carpet and divide them. Mary can choose one, andthen Jane; then Mary, and then Jane again; and so on until they are allchosen. "

_Difference in the Character of the Effects_. 

It may, perhaps, be said by the reader that this is substantially the sameas giving a direct reward for the obedience. I admit that it is in somesense _substantially_ the same thing, but it is not the same in form. Andthis is one of those cases where the effect is modified very greatly by theform. Where children are directly promised a reward if they do so and so, they naturally regard the transaction as of the nature of a contract or abargain, such that when they have fulfilled the conditions on their partthe reward is their due, as, indeed, it really is; and they come and demandit as such. The tendency, then, is, to divest their minds of all sense ofobligation in respect to doing right, and to make them feel that it is insome sense optional with them whether to do right and earn the reward, ornot to do right and lose it. 

In the case, however, last described, which seems at first view to differonly in form from the preceding one, the commendation and the bonbons wouldbe so connected with the act of obedience as to associate very agreeableideas with it in the children's minds, and thus to make doing right appearattractive to them on future occasions, while, at the same time, they wouldnot in any degree deprive the act itself of its spontaneous character, asresulting from a sense of duty on their part, or produce the impression ontheir minds that their remaining within the gate was of the nature of aservice rendered to their mother for hire, and afterwards duly paid for. 

The lesson which we deduce from this illustration and the considerationsconnected with it may be stated as follows:

_The General Principle_. 

That the rewards conferred upon children with a view of connectingpleasurable ideas and associations with good conduct should not takethe form of compensations stipulated for beforehand, and then conferredaccording to agreement, as if they were of the nature of payment fora service rendered, but should come as the natural expression of thesatisfaction and happiness felt by the mother in the good conduct of herchild--expressions as free and spontaneous on her part as the good conductwas on the part of the child. 

The mother who understands the full import of this principle, and whosemind becomes fully possessed of it, will find it constantly coming intopractical use in a thousand ways. She has undertaken, for example, to teachher little son to read. Of course learning to read is irksome to him. Hedislikes extremely to leave his play and come to take his lesson. Sometimesa mother is inconsiderate enough to be pained at this. She is troubled tofind that her boy takes so little interest in so useful a work, and even, perhaps, scolds him, and threatens him for not loving study. "If you don'tlearn to read, " she says to him, in a tone of irritation and displeasure, "you will grow up a dunce, and every body will laugh at you, and you willbe ashamed to be seen. "

_Children's Difficulties_. 

But let her imagine that she herself was to be called away two or threetimes a day, for half an hour, to study Chinese, with a very exactingteacher, always more or less impatient and dissatisfied with her progress;and yet the irksomeness and difficulty for the mother, in learning todecipher Chinese, would be as nothing compared with that of the child inlearning to read. The only thing that could make the work even tolerable tothe mother would be a pretty near, distinct, and certain prospect ofgoing to China under circumstances that would make the knowledge of greatadvantage to her. But the child has no such near, distinct, and certainprospect of the advantages of knowing how to read. He has scarcely anyidea of these advantages at all. You can describe them to him, but thedescription will have no perceptible effect upon his mind. Those facultiesby which we bring the future vividly before us so as to influence ourpresent action, are not yet developed. His cerebral organization has notyet advanced to that condition, any more than his bones have advanced tothe hardness, rigidness, and strength of manhood. His mind is only capableof being influenced strongly by what is present, or, at least, very near. It is the design of Divine Providence that this should be so. The childis not made to look forward much yet, and the mother who is pained anddistressed because he will not look forward, shows a great ignorance of thenature of the infantile mind, and of the manner of its development. Ifshe finds fault with her boy for not feeling distinctly enough the futureadvantages of learning to lead him to love study now, she is simply findingfault with a boy for not being possessed of the most slowly developedfaculties of a man. 

The way, then, to induce children to attend to such duties as learning toread, is not to reason with them on the advantages of it, but to put itsimply on the ground of authority. "It is very irksome, I know, but youmust do it. When you are at play, and having a very pleasant time, I knowvery well that it is hard for you to be called away to puzzle over yourletters and your reading. It was very hard for me when I was a child. It isvery hard for all children; but then it must be done. "

The way in this, as in all other similar cases, to reduce the irksomenessof disagreeable duties to a minimum is not to attempt to convince orpersuade the child, but to put the performance of them simply on the groundof submission to authority. The child must leave his play and come to takehis lesson, not because he sees that it is better for him to learn to readthan to play all the time, nor because he is to receive a reward in theform of compensation, but because his mother requires him to do it. 

_Indirect Rewarding_. 

If, therefore, she concludes, in order to connect agreeable ideas with thehard work of learning to read, that she will often, at the close of thelessons, tell him a little story, or show him a picture, or have a frolicwith him, or give him a piece of candy or a lump of sugar, or bestow uponhim any other little gratification, it is better not to promise thesethings beforehand, so as to give to the coming of the child, when called, the character of a service rendered for hire. Let him come simplybecause he is called; and then let the gratifications be bestowed as theexpressions of his mother's satisfaction and happiness, in view of herboy's ready obedience to her commands and faithful performance of his duty. 

_Obedience, though Implicit, need not be Blind_. 

It must not be supposed from what has been said that because a mother isnot to _rely upon_ the reason and forecast of the child in respect tofuture advantages to accrue from efforts or sacrifices as motives ofpresent action, that she is not to employ the influence of these motivesat all. It is true that those faculties of the mind by which we apprehenddistant things and govern our conduct by them are not yet developed in thechild; but they are _to be_ developed, and the aid of the parent will be ofthe greatest service in promoting the development of them. At propertimes, then, the pleasures and advantages of knowing how to read should bedescribed to the child, and presented moreover in the most attractive form. The proper time for doing this would be when no lesson is in question--during a ride or a walk, or in the midst of a story, or while looking ata book of pictures. A most improper time would be when a command hadbeen given and was disregarded, or was reluctantly obeyed; for then suchrepresentations would only tend to enfeeble the principle of authority bybringing in the influence of reasonings and persuasions to make up forits acknowledged inefficiency. It is one of those cases where a force isweakened by reinforcement--as a plant, by being long held up by a stake, comes in the end not to be able to stand alone. 

So a mother can not in any way more effectually undermine her authority, as _authority_, than by attempting to eke out its force by arguments andcoaxings. 

_Authority not to be made Oppressive_. 

While the parent must thus take care to establish the _principle ofauthority_ as the ground of obedience on the part of his children, and mustnot make their doing what he requires any the less acts of _obedience_, through vainly attempting to diminish the hardship of obeying a command bymingling the influence of reasonings and persuasions with it, he may inother ways do all in his power--and that will be a great deal--to make theacts of obedience easy, or, at least, to diminish the difficulty of themand the severity of the trial which they often bring to the child. 

One mode by which this may be done is by not springing disagreeableobligations upon a child suddenly, but by giving his mind a little timeto form itself to the idea of what is to come. When Johnny and Mary areplaying together happily with their blocks upon the floor, and are, perhaps, just completing a tower which they have been building, if theirmother comes suddenly into the room, announces to them abruptly that it istime for them to go to bed, throws down the tower and brushes the blocksinto the basket, and then hurries the children away to the undressing, shegives a sudden and painful shock to their whole nervous system, and greatlyincreases the disappointment and pain which they experience in beingobliged to give up their play. The delay of a single minute would besufficient to bring their minds round easily and gently into submission tothe necessity of the case. If she comes to them with a smile, looks upontheir work a moment with an expression of interest and pleasure upon hercountenance, and then says, "It is bed-time, children, but I would like to see you finish your tower. "

One minute of delay like this, to soften the suddenness of the transition, will make the act of submission to the necessity of giving up play andgoing to bed, in obedience to the mother's command, comparatively easy, instead of being, as it very likely would otherwise have been, extremelyvexatious and painful. 

_Give a Little Time_. 

In the same way, in bringing to a close an evening party of children atplay, if the lady of the house comes a little before the time and says tothem that after "one more play, " or "two more plays, " as the case may be, "the party must come to an end, " the closing of it would be made easy; whileby waiting till the hour had come, and then suddenly interrupting thegayety, perhaps in the middle of a game, by the abrupt announcement to thechildren that the clock has struck, and they must stop their plays andbegin to get ready to go home, she brings upon them a sudden shock ofpainful surprise, disappointment, and, perhaps, irritation. 

So, if children are to be called away from their play for any purposewhatever, it is always best to give them a little notice, if it be only amoment's notice, beforehand. "John, in a minute or two I shall wish you togo and get some wood. You can be getting your things ready to be left. ""Mary, it is almost time for your lesson. You had better put Dolly to sleepand lay her in the cradle. " "Boys, in ten minutes it will be time for youto go to school. So do not begin any new whistles, but only finish what youhave begun. "

On the same principle, if boys are at play in the open air--at ball, orskating, or flying kites--and are to be recalled by a bell, obedience tothe call will be made much more easy to them by a preliminary signal, as awarning, given five minutes before the time. 

Of course, it will not always be convenient to give these signals and thesetimes of preparation. Nor will it be always necessary to give them. Todetermine how and in what cases it is best to apply the principle hereexplained will require some tact and good judgment on the part of theparent. It would be folly to lay down a rigid rule of this kind to beconsidered as always obligatory. All that is desirable is that the mothershould understand the principle, and that she should apply it as far as sheconveniently and easily can do so. She will find in practice that when sheonce appreciates the value of it, and observes its kind and beneficentworking, she will find it convenient and easy to apply it far moregenerally than she would suppose. 

_No weakening of Authority in this_. 

It is very plain that softening thus the hardship for the child of anyact of obedience required of him by giving him a little time implies noabatement of the authority of the parent, nor does it detract at all fromthe implicitness of the obedience on the part of the child. The submissionto authority is as complete in doing a thing in five minutes if the orderwas to do it in five minutes, as in doing it at once if the order was to doit at once. And the mother must take great care, when thus trying to makeobedience more easy by allowing time, that it should be prompt and absolutewhen the time has expired. 

The idea is, that though the parent is bound fully to maintain hisauthority over his children, in all its force, he is also bound to make theexercise of it as little irksome and painful to them as possible, and toprevent as much as possible the pressure of it from encroaching upon theirjuvenile joys. He must insist inexorably on being obeyed; but he is boundto do all in his power to make the yoke of obedience light and easily to beborne. 

_Influence on the healthful Development of the Brain_. 

Indeed, besides the bearing of these views on the happiness of thechildren, it is not at all improbable that the question of health maybe seriously involved in them. For, however certain we may be of theimmateriality of the soul in its essence, it is a perfectly wellestablished fact that all its operations and functions, as an animatingspirit in the human body, are fulfilled through the workings of materialorgans in the brain; that these organs are in childhood in an exceedinglyimmature, tender, and delicate condition; and that all sudden, sharp, and, especially, painful emotions, greatly excite, and sometimes cruellyirritate them. 

When we consider how seriously the action of the digestive organs, inpersons in an ordinary state of health, is often interfered with by mentalanxiety or distress; how frequently, in persons subject to headaches, theparoxysm is brought on by worryings or perplexities endured incidentally onthe preceding day; and especially how often violent and painful emotions, when they are extreme, result in decided and sometimes in permanent andhopeless insanity--that is, in an irreparable damage to some delicatemechanism in the brain--we shall see that there is every reason forsupposing that all sudden shocks to the nervous system of children, allviolent and painful excitements, all vexations and irritations, andebullitions of ill-temper and anger, have a tendency to disturb the healthydevelopment of the cerebral organs, and may, in many cases, seriouslyaffect the future health and welfare, as well as the present happiness, ofthe child. 

It is true that mental disturbances and agitations of this kind can not bewholly avoided. But they should be avoided as far as possible; and themost efficient means for avoiding them is a firm, though calm and gentle, establishment and maintenance of parental authority, and not, as manymothers very mistakingly imagine, by unreasonable indulgences, andby endeavors to manage their children by persuasions, bribings, andmanoeuvrings, instead of by commands. The most indulged children, and theleast governed, are always the most petulant and irritable; while a stronggovernment, if regular, uniform, and just, and if administered by gentlemeasures, is the most effectual of all possible instrumentalities forsurrounding childhood with an atmosphere of calmness and peace. 

In a word, while the mother is bound to do all in her power to rendersubmission to her authority easy and agreeable to her children, bysoftening as much as possible the disappointment and hardship which hercommands sometimes occasion, and by connecting pleasurable ideas andsensations with acts of obedience on the part of the child, she must notat all relax the authority itself, but must maintain it under allcircumstances in its full force, with a very firm and decided, though stillgentle hand. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE ART OF TRAINING. 

It is very clear that the most simple and the most obvious of the modes bywhich a parent may establish among his children the habit of submissionto his authority, are those which have been already described, namely, punishments and rewards--punishments, gentle in their character, butinvariably enforced, as the sure results of acts of insubordination; andrewards for obedience, occasionally and cautiously bestowed, in such amanner that they may be regarded as recognitions simply, on the part ofthe parent, of the good conduct of his children, and expressions of hisgratification, and not in the light of payment or hire. These are obviouslythe most simple modes, and the ones most ready at hand. They require noexalted or unusual qualities on the part of father or mother, unless, indeed, we consider gentleness, combined with firmness and good sense, asan assemblage of rare and exalted qualities. To assign, and firmly anduniformly to enforce, just but gentle penalties for disobedience, and torecognize, and sometimes reward, special acts of obedience and submission, are measures fully within the reach of every parent, however humble may bethe condition of his intelligence or his attainments of knowledge. 

_Another Class of Influences_. 

There is, however, another class of influences to be adopted, not as asubstitute for these simple measures, but in connection and co-operationwith them, which will be far more deep, powerful, and permanent in theirresults, though they require much higher qualities in the parent forcarrying them successfully into effect. This higher method consists ina _systematic effort to develop in the mind of the child a love of theprinciple of obedience_, by express and appropriate training. 

_Parents not aware of the Extent of their Responsibility_. 

Many parents, perhaps indeed nearly all, seem, as we have already shown, to act as if they considered the duty of obedience on the part of theirchildren as a matter of course. They do not expect their children to reador to write without being taught; they do not expect a dog to fetch andcarry, or a horse to draw and to understand commands and signals, withoutbeing _trained_. In all these cases they perceive the necessity of trainingand instruction, and understand that the initiative is with _them_. If ahorse, endowed by nature with average good qualities, does not work well, the fault is attributed at once to the man who undertook to train him. Butwhat mother, when her child, grown large and strong, becomes the trial andsorrow of her life by his ungovernable disobedience and insubordination, takes the blame to herself in reflecting that he was placed in her handswhen all the powers and faculties of his soul were in embryo, tender, pliant, and unresisting, to be formed and fashioned at her will?

_The Spirit of filial Obedience not Instinctive_. 

Children, as has already been remarked, do not require to be taughtand trained to eat and drink, to resent injuries, to cling to theirpossessions, or to run to their mother in danger or pain. They have naturalinstincts which provide for all these things. But to speak, to read, towrite, and to calculate; to tell the truth, and to obey their parents;to forgive injuries, to face bravely fancied dangers and bear patientlyunavoidable pain, are attainments for which no natural instincts canadequately provide. There are instincts that will aid in the work, but nonethat can of themselves be relied upon without instruction and training. Inactual fact, children usually receive their instruction and training inrespect to some of these things incidentally--as it happens--by the roughknocks and frictions, and various painful experiences which they encounterin the early years of life. In respect to others, the guidance andaid afforded them is more direct and systematic. Unfortunately theestablishment in their minds of the principle of obedience comes ordinarilyunder the former category. No systematic and appropriate efforts aremade by the parent to implant it. It is left to the uncertain and fitfulinfluences of accident--to remonstrances, reproaches, and injunctionscalled forth under sudden excitement in the various emergencies of domesticdiscipline, and to other means, vague, capricious, and uncertain, andhaving no wise adaptedness to the attainment of the end in view. 

_Requires appropriate Training_. 

How much better and more successfully the object would be accomplished ifthe mother were to understand distinctly at the outset that the work oftraining her children to the habit of submission to her authority is aduty, the responsibility of which devolves not upon her children, but uponher; that it is a duty, moreover, of the highest importance, and one thatdemands careful consideration, much forethought, and the wise adaptation ofmeans to the end. 

_Methods_. 

The first thought of some parents may possibly be, that they do not know ofany other measures to take in order to teach their children submission totheir authority, than to reward them when they obey and punish them whenthey disobey. To show that there are other methods, we will consider aparticular case. 

Mary, a young lady of seventeen, came to make a visit to her sister. She soon perceived that her sister's children, Adolphus and Lucia, wereentirely ungoverned. Their mother coaxed, remonstrated, advised, gavereasons, said "I wouldn't do this, " or "I wouldn't do that, "--did everything, in fact, except simply to command; and the children, consequently, did pretty much what they pleased. Their mother wondered at theirdisobedience and insubordination, and in cases where these faults resultedin special inconvenience for herself she bitterly reproached the childrenfor their undutiful behavior. But the reproaches produced no effect. 

"The first thing that I have to do, " said Mary to herself, in observingthis state of things, "is to teach the children to obey--at least to obey_me_. I will give them their first lesson at once. "

_Mary makes a Beginning_. 

So she proposed to them to go out with her into the garden and show herthe flowers, adding that if they would do so she would make each of them abouquet. She could make them some very pretty bouquets, she said, providedthey would help her, and would follow her directions and obey herimplicitly while gathering and arranging the flowers. 

This the children promised to do, and Mary went with them into the garden. There, as she passed about from border to border, she gave them a greatmany different directions in respect to things which they were to do, orwhich they were not to do. She gathered flowers, and gave some to onechild, and some to the other, to be held and carried--with specialinstructions in respect to many details, such as directing some flowers tobe put together, and others to be kept separate, and specifying in whatmanner they were to be held or carried. Then she led them to a bower wherethere was a long seat, and explained to them how they were to lay theflowers in order upon the seat, and directed them to be very careful not totouch them after they were once laid down. They were, moreover, to leave aplace in the middle of the seat entirely clear. They asked what that wasfor. Mary said that they would see by-and-by. "You must always do just asI say, " she added, "and perhaps I shall explain the reason afterwards, orperhaps you will see what the reason is yourselves. "

After going on in this way until a sufficient number and variety of flowerswere collected, Mary took her seat in the vacant place which had been left, and assigned the two portions of the seat upon which the flowers had beenplaced to the children, giving each the charge of the flowers upon oneportion, with instructions to select and give to her such as she shouldcall for. From the flowers thus brought she formed two bouquets, one foreach of the children. Then she set them both at work to make bouquets forthemselves, giving them minute and special directions in regard to everystep. If her object had been to cultivate their taste and judgment, then itwould have been better to allow them to choose the flowers and determinethe arrangement for themselves; but she was teaching them _obedience_, or, rather, beginning to form in them the _habit_ of obedience; and so, themore numerous and minute the commands the better, provided that they werenot in them selves unreasonable, nor so numerous and minute as to bevexatious, so as to incur any serious danger of their not being readily andgood-humoredly obeyed. 

[Illustration: THE LESSON IN OBEDIENCE. ]

_THE ART OF TRAINING_. 101

When the bouquets were finished Mary gave the children, severally, thetwo which had been made for them; and the two which they had made forthemselves she took into the house and placed them in glasses upon theparlor mantel-piece, and then stood back with the children in the middle ofthe room to admire them. 

"See how pretty they look! And how nicely the work went on while we weremaking them! That was because you obeyed me so well while we were doing it. You did exactly as I said in every thing. "

_A Beginning only_. 

Now this was an excellent _first lesson_ in training the children to thehabit of obedience. It is true that it was _only_ a first lesson. It was abeginning, but it was a very good beginning. If, on the following day, Maryhad given the children a command which it would be irksome to them to obey, or one which would have called for any special sacrifice or self-denial ontheir part, they would have disregarded it. Still they would have been alittle less inclined to disregard it than if they had not received theirfirst lesson; and there can be no doubt that if Mary were to continue hertraining in the same spirit in which she commenced it she would, beforemany weeks, acquire a complete ascendency over them, and make them entirelysubmissive to her will. 

And yet this is a species of training the efficacy of which depends oninfluences in which the hope of reward or the fear of punishment does notenter. The bouquets were not promised to the children at the outset, norwere they given to them at last as rewards. It is true that they sawthe advantages resulting from due subordination of the inferiors to thesuperior in concerted action, and at the end they felt a satisfactionin having acted right; but these advantages did not come in the form ofrewards. The efficacy of the lesson depended on a different principlealtogether. 

_The Philosophy of it_. 

The philosophy of it was this: Mary, knowing that the principle ofobedience in the children was extremely weak, and that it could not standany serious test, contrived to bring it into exercise a great many timesunder the lightest possible pressure. She called upon them to do a greatmany different things, each of which was very easy to do, and gave themmany little prohibitions which it required a very slight effort ofself-denial on their part to regard; and she connected agreeableassociations in their minds with the idea of submission to authority, through the interest which she knew they would feel in seeing the workof gathering the flowers and making the bouquets go systematically andprosperously on, and through the commendation of their conduct which sheexpressed at the end. 

Such persons as Mary do not analyze distinctly, in their thoughts, nor could they express in words, the principles which underlie theirmanagement; but they have an instinctive mental perception of theadaptation of such means to the end in view. Other people, who observe howeasily and quietly they seem to obtain an ascendency over all childrencoming within their influence, and how absolute this ascendency oftenbecomes, are frequently surprised at it. They think there is some mysteryabout it; they say it is "a knack that some people have;" but there is nomystery about it at all, and nothing unusual or strange, except so far aspractical good sense, considerate judgment, and intelligent observation andappreciation of the characteristics of childhood are unusual and strange. 

Mary was aware that, although the principle of obedience is seldom ornever entirely obliterated from the hearts of children--that is, thatthe impression upon their minds, which, though it may not be absolutelyinstinctive, is very early acquired, that it is incumbent on them to obeythose set in authority over them, is seldom wholly effaced, the sentimenthad become extremely feeble in the minds of Adolphus and Lucia; and that itwas like a frail and dying plant, which required very delicate and carefulnurture to quicken it to life and give it its normal health and vigor. Hermanagement was precisely of this character. It called the weak and feebleprinciple into gentle exercise, without putting it to any severe test, andthus commenced the formation of a _habit of action_. Any one will see thata course of training on these principles, patiently and perseveringlycontinued for the proper time, could not fail of securing the desired end, except in cases of children characterized by unusual and entirely abnormalperversity. 

We can not here follow in detail the various modes in which such a manageras Mary would adapt her principle to the changing incidents of each day, and to the different stages of progress made by her pupils in learning toobey, but can only enumerate certain points worthy of the attention ofparents who may feel desirous to undertake such a work of training. 

_Three practical Directions_. 

1. Relinquish entirely the idea of expecting children to be _spontaneously_docile and obedient, and the practice of scolding or punishing themvindictively when they are not so. Instead of so doing, understand thatdocility and obedience on their part is to be the result of wise, careful, and persevering, though gentle training on the part of the parent. 

2. If the children have already formed habits of disobedience andinsubordination, do not expect that the desirable change can be effected bysudden, spasmodic, and violent efforts, accompanied by denunciations andthreats, and declarations that you are going to "turn over a new leaf. " Theattempt to change perverted tendencies in children by such means is liketrying to straighten a bend in the stem of a growing tree by blows with ahammer. 

3. Instead of this, begin without saying at all what you are going to do, or finding any fault with the past, and, with a distinct recognition of thefact that whatever is bad in the _native tendencies_ of your children'sminds is probably inherited from their parents, and, perhaps, speciallyfrom yourself, and that whatever is wrong in their _habits of action_ iscertainly the result of bad training, proceed cautiously and gently, butperseveringly and firmly, in bringing the bent stem gradually up to theright position. In doing this, there is no amount of ingenuity and skill, however great, that may not be usefully employed; nor is there, on theother hand, except in very rare and exceptional cases, any parent who hasan allotment so small as not to be sufficient to accomplish the end, ifconscientiously and faithfully employed. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

METHODS EXEMPLIFIED. 

In order to give a more clear idea of what I mean by forming habits ofobedience in children by methods other than those connected with a systemof rewards and punishments, I will specify some such methods, introducingthem, however, only as illustrations of what is intended. For, while inrespect to rewards and punishments something like special and definiterules and directions may be given, these other methods, as they depend onthe tact, ingenuity, and inventive powers of the parents for their success, depend also in great measure upon these same qualities for the discoveryof them. The only help that can be received from without must consist ofsuggestions and illustrations, which can only serve to communicate to themind some general ideas in respect to them. 

_Recognizing the Right. _

1. A very excellent effect is produced in forming habits of obedience inchildren, by simply _noticing_ their good conduct when they do right, andletting them see that you notice it. When children are at play upon thecarpet, and their mother from time to time calls one of them--Mary, we willsay--to come to her to render some little service, it is very often thecase that she is accustomed, when Mary obeys the call at once, leavingher play immediately and coming directly, to say nothing about the promptobedience, but to treat it as a matter of course. It is only in thecases of failure that she seems to notice the action. When Mary, greatlyinterested in what for the moment she is doing, delays her coming, shesays, "You ought to come at once, Mary, when I call you, and not make mewait in this way. " In the cases when Mary did come at once, she had saidnothing. 

Mary goes back to her play after the reproof, a little disturbed in mind, at any rate, and perhaps considerably out of humor. 

Now Mary may, perhaps, be in time induced to obey more promptly under thismanagement, but she will have no heart in making the improvement, and shewill advance reluctantly and slowly, if at all. But if, at the first timethat she comes promptly, and then, after doing the errand, is ready to goback to her play, her mother says, "You left your play and came at oncewhen I called you. That was right. It pleases me very much to find that Ican depend upon your being so prompt, even when you are at play, " Mary willgo back to her play pleased and happy; and the tendency of the incidentwill be to cause her to feel a spontaneous and cordial interest in theprinciple of prompt obedience in time to come. 

Johnny is taking a walk through the fields with his mother. He sees abutterfly and sets off in chase of it. When he has gone away from the pathamong the rocks and bushes as far as his mother thinks is safe, she callshim to come back. In many cases, if the boy does not come at once inobedience to such a call, he would perhaps receive a scolding. If he doescome back at once, nothing is said. In either case no decided effect wouldbe produced upon him. 

But if his mother says, "Johnny, you obeyed me at once when I called you. It must be hard, when you are after a butterfly and think you have almostcaught him, to stop immediately and come back to your mother when she callsyou; but you did it, " Johnny will be led by this treatment to feel a desireto come back more promptly still the next time. 

_A Caution. _

Of course there is an endless variety of ways by which you can show yourchildren that you notice and appreciate the efforts they make to do right. Doubtless there is a danger to be guarded against. To adopt the practice ofnoticing and commending what is right, and paying _no attention whatever_to what is wrong, would be a great perversion of this counsel. There isa danger more insidious than this, but still very serious and real, of fostering a feeling of vanity and self-conceit by constant andinconsiderate praise. These things must be guarded against; and to securethe good aimed at, and at the same time to avoid the evil, requires theexercise of the tact and ingenuity which has before been referred to. Butwith proper skill and proper care the habit of noticing and commending, oreven noticing alone, when children do right, and of even being morequick to notice and to be pleased with the right than to detect and bedissatisfied with the wrong, will be found to be a very powerful means oftraining children in the right way. 

Children will act with a great deal more readiness and alacrity to preservea good character which people already attribute to them, than to relievethemselves of the opprobrium of a bad one with which they are charged. Inother words, it is much easier to allure them to what is right than todrive them from what is wrong. 

_Giving Advice. _

2. There is, perhaps, nothing more irksome to children than to listen toadvice given to them in a direct and simple form, and perhaps there isnothing that has less influence upon them in the formation of theircharacters than advice so given. And there is good reason for this; foreither the advice must be general, and of course more or less abstract, when it is necessarily in a great measure lost upon them, since theirpowers of generalization and abstraction are not yet developed; or else, if it is practical and particular at all, it must be so with reference totheir own daily experience in life--in which case it becomes more irksomestill, as they necessarily regard it as an indirect mode of fault-finding. Indeed, this kind of advice is almost certain to assume the form ofhalf-concealed fault-finding, for the subject of the counsel given wouldbe, in almost all cases, suggested by the errors, or shortcomings, orfailures which had been recently observed in the conduct of the children. The art, then, of giving to children general advice and instruction inrespect to their conduct and behavior, consists in making it definiteand practical, and at the same time contriving some way of divesting itentirely of all direct application to themselves in respect to their _past_conduct. Of course, the more we make it practically applicable to them inrespect to the future the better. 

There are various ways of giving advice of this character. It requires someingenuity to invent them, and some degree of tact and skill to apply themsuccessfully. But the necessary tact and skill would be easily acquired byany mother whose heart is really set upon finding gentle modes of leadingher child into the path of duty. 

_James and his Cousins_. 

James, going to spend one of his college vacations at his uncle's, wastaken by his two cousins, Walter and Ann--eight and six years old--intotheir room. The room was all in confusion. There was a set of book-shelvesupon one side, the books upon them lying tumbled about in all directions. There was a case containing playthings in another place, the playthingsbroken and in disorder; and two tables, one against the wall, and the otherin the middle of the room, both covered with litter. Now if James hadcommenced his conversation by giving the children a lecture on the disorderof their room, and on the duty, on their part, of taking better care oftheir things, the chief effect would very probably have been simply toprevent their wishing to have him come to their room again. 

But James managed the case differently. After going about the room fora few minutes with the children, and looking with them at their varioustreasures, and admiring what they seemed to admire, but without finding anyfault, he sat down before the fire and took the children upon his lap--oneupon each knee--and began to talk to them. Ann had one of her picture-booksin her hand, some of the leaves torn, and the rest defaced with dog's-ears. 

"Now, Walter, " said James, "I'm going to give you some advice. I am goingto advise you what to do and how to act when you go to college. By-and-byyou will grow to be a young man, and will then, perhaps, go to college. "

The idea of growing to be a young man and going to college was verypleasing to Walter's imagination, and brought his mind into what may becalled a receptive condition--that is, into a state to receive readily, andentertain with favor, the thoughts which James was prepared to present. 

James then went on to draw a very agreeable picture of Walter's leavinghome and going to college, with many details calculated to be pleasingto his cousin's fancy, and came at length to his room, and to thecircumstances under which he would take possession of it. Then he toldhim of the condition in which different scholars kept their respectiverooms--how some were always in disorder, and every thing in themtopsy-turvy, so that they had no pleasant or home-like aspect at all; whilein others every thing was well arranged, and kept continually in thatcondition, so as to give the whole room, to every one who entered it, avery charming appearance. 

"The books on their shelves were all properly arranged, " he said, "allstanding up in order--those of a like size together. Jump down, Ann, and goto your shelves, and arrange the books on the middle shelf in that way, toshow him what I mean. "

Ann jumped down, and ran with great alacrity to arrange the books accordingto the directions. When she had arranged one shelf, she was proceeding todo the same with the next, but James said she need not do any more then. She could arrange the others, if she pleased, at another time, he said. "But come back now, " he added, "and hear the rest of the advice. "

"I advise you to keep your book-shelves in nice order at college, " hecontinued; "and so with your apparatus and your cabinet. For at college, you see, you will perhaps have articles of philosophical apparatus, and acabinet of specimens, instead of playthings. I advise you, if you shouldhave such things, to keep them all nicely arranged upon their shelves. "

Here James turned his chair a little, so that he and the children couldlook towards the cabinet of playthings. Walter climbed down from hiscousin's lap and ran off to that side of the room, and there began hastilyto arrange the playthings. 

"Yes, " said James, "that is the way. But never mind that now. I think youwill know how to arrange your philosophical instruments and your cabinetvery nicely when you are in college; and you can keep your playthings inorder in your room here, while you are a boy, if you please. But come backnow and hear the rest of the advice. "

So Walter came back and took his place again upon James's knee. 

"And I advise you, " continued James, "to take good care of your books whenyou are in college. It is pleasanter, at the time, to use books that areclean and nice, and then, besides, you will like to take your college bookswith you, after you leave college, and keep them as long as you live, asmemorials of your early days, and you will value them a great deal more ifthey are in good order. "

Here Ann opened the book which was in her hand, and began to fold back thedog's-ears and to smooth down the leaves. 

_The Principle Involved_. 

In a word, by the simple expedient of shifting the time, in the imaginationof the children, when the advice which he was giving them would come to itspractical application, he divested it of all appearance of fault-findingin respect to their present conduct, and so secured not merely its readyadmission, but a cordial welcome for it, in their minds. 

Any mother who sees and clearly apprehends the principle here illustrated, and has ingenuity enough to avail herself of it, will find an endlessvariety of modes by which she can make use of it, to gain easy access tothe hearts of her children, for instructions and counsels which, when theycome in the form of fault-finding advice, make no impression whatever. 

_Expectations of Results must be Reasonable_. 

Some persons, however, who read without much reflection, and who do notclearly see the principle involved in the case above described, and do notunderstand it as it is intended--that is, as a single specimen or exampleof a mode of action capable of an endless variety of applications, willperhaps say, "Oh, that was all very well. James's talk was very good forthe purpose of amusing the children for a few minutes while he was visitingthem, but it is idle to suppose that such a conversation could produce anypermanent or even lasting impression upon them; still less, that it couldwork any effectual change in respect to their habits of order. "

That is very true. In the work of forming the hearts and minds of childrenit is "line upon line, and precept upon precept" that is required; and itcan not be claimed that one such conversation as that of James is any thingmore than _one line_. But it certainly is that. It would be as unreasonableto expect that one single lesson like that could effectually and completelyaccomplish the end in view, as that one single watering of a plant willsuffice to enable it to attain completely its growth, and enable it toproduce in perfection its fruits or its flowers. 

But if a mother often clothes thus the advice or instruction which she hasto give to her children in some imaginative guise like this, advising themwhat to do when they are on a journey, for example, or when they are makinga visit at the house of a friend in the country; or, in the case of a boy, what she would counsel him to do in case he were a young man employed by afarmer to help him on his farm, or a clerk in a store, or a sea-captain incharge of a ship, or a general commanding a force in the field; or, if agirl, what dangers or what undesirable habits or actions she should avoidwhen travelling in Europe, or when, as a young lady, she joins in picnicsor goes on excursions, or attends concerts or evening parties, or in any ofthe countless other situations which it is pleasant for young persons topicture to their minds, introducing into all, so far as her ingenuity andskill enable her to do it, interesting incidents and details, she will findthat she is opening to herself an avenue to her children's hearts for thesound moral principles that she wishes to inculcate upon them, which shecan often employ easily, pleasantly, and very advantageously, both toherself and to them. 

When a child is sick, it may be of little consequence whether the medicinewhich is required is agreeable or disagreeable to the taste. But with moralremedies the case is different. Sometimes the whole efficiency of thetreatment administered as a corrective for a moral disorder dependsupon the readiness and willingness with which it is taken. To make itdisagreeable, consequently, in such cases, is to neutralize the intendedaction of it--a result which the methods described in this chapter greatlytend to avoid. 

CHAPTER IX. 

DELLA AND THE DOLLS. 

This book may, perhaps, sometimes fall into the hands of persons who have, temporarily or otherwise, the charge of young children without any absoluteauthority over them, or any means, or even any right, to enforce theircommands, as was the case, in fact, with the older brothers or sisterreferred to in the preceding illustrations. To such persons, these indirectmodes of training children in habits of subordination to their will, orrather of yielding to their influence, are specially useful. Such personsmay be interested in the manner in which Delia made use of the children'sdolls as a means of guiding and governing their little mothers. 

_Della_. 

Della had a young sister named Maria, and a cousin whose name was Jane. Jane used often to come to make Maria a visit, and when together thechildren were accustomed to spend a great deal of time in playing withtheir dolls. Besides dressing and undressing them, and playing take themout to excursions and visits, they used to talk with them a great deal, andgive them much useful and valuable information and instruction. 

[Illustration: ROUNDABOUT INSTRUCTION. ]

Now Delia contrived to obtain a great influence and ascendency over theminds of the children by means of these dolls. She fell at once into theidea of the children in regard to them, and treated them always as if theywere real persons; often speaking of them and to them, in the presence ofthe other children, in the most serious manner. This not only pleased thechildren very much, but enabled Della, under pretense of talking to thedolls, to communicate a great deal of useful instruction to the children, and sometimes to make very salutary and lasting impressions upon theirminds. 

_Lectures to the Dolls_. 

For instance, sometimes when Jane was making Maria a visit, and the twochildren came into her room with their dolls in their arms, she would speakto them as if they were real persons, and then taking them in her handswould set them before her on her knee, and give them a very grave lecturein respect to the proper behavior which they were to observe during theafternoon. If Delia had attempted to give precisely the same lecture to thechildren themselves, they would very soon have become restless and uneasy, and it would have made very little impression upon them. But beingaddressed to the dolls, they would be greatly interested in it, and wouldlisten with the utmost attention; and there is no doubt that the counselsand instructions which she gave made a much stronger impression upon theirminds than if they had been addressed directly to the children themselves. To give an idea of these conversations I will report one of them in full. 

"How do you do, my children?" she said, on one such occasion. "I am veryglad to see you. How nice you look! You have come, Andella (Andella was thename of Jane's doll), to make Rosalie a visit. I am very glad. You willhave a very pleasant time, I am sure; because you never quarrel. I observethat, when you both wish for the same thing, you don't quarrel for it andtry to pull it away from one another; but one waits like a lady until theother has done with it. I expect you have been a very good girl, Andella, since you were here last. "

Then, turning to Jane, she asked, in a somewhat altered tone, "Has she beena good girl, Jane?"

"She has been a _pretty_ good girl, " said Jane, "but she has been sick. "

"Ah!" said Della in a tone of great concern, and looking again at Andella, "I heard that you had been sick. I heard that you had an attack of AuroraBorealis, or something like that. And you don't look very well now. Youmust take good care of yourself, and if you don't feel well, you mustask your mother to bring you in to me and I will give you a dose of mymedicine--my _aqua saccharina_. I know you always take your medicine like alittle heroine when you are sick, without making any difficulty or troubleat all. "

_Aqua saccharina_ was the Latin name which Delia gave to a preparationof which she kept a supply in a small phial on her table, ready tomake-believe give to the dolls when they were sick. Maria and Jane werevery fond of playing that their dolls were sick and bringing them to Dellafor medicine, especially as Della always recommended to them to taste themedicine themselves from a spoon first, in order to set their children agood example of taking it well. 

Sometimes Della would let the children take the phial away, so as to haveit always at hand in case the dolls should be taken suddenly worse. But insuch cases as this the attacks were usually so frequent, and the motherswere obliged to do so much tasting to encourage the patients, that thephial was soon brought back nearly or quite empty, when Delia used toreplenish it by filling it nearly full of water, and then pouring asufficient quantity of the saccharine powder into the mouth of it from thesugar-bowl with a spoon. Nothing more was necessary except to shake up themixture in order to facilitate the process of solution, and the medicinewas ready. 

_A Medium of Reproof. _

Delia was accustomed to use the dolls not only for the purpose ofinstruction, but sometimes for reproof, in many ingenious ways. Forinstance, one day the children had been playing upon the piazza with blocksand other playthings, and finally had gone into the house, leaving all thethings on the floor of the piazza, instead of putting them away in theirplaces, as they ought to have done. They were now playing with their dollsin the parlor. 

Delia came to the parlor, and with an air of great mystery beckoned thechildren aside, and said to them, in a whisper, "Leave Andella and Rosaliehere, and don't say a word to them. I want you to come with me. There is asecret--something I would not have them know on any account. "

So saying, she led the way on tiptoe, followed by the children out of theroom, and round by a circuitous route to the piazza. 

"There!" said she, pointing to the playthings; "see! all your playthingsleft out! Put them away quick before Andella and Rosalie see them. I wouldnot have them know that their mothers leave their playthings about in thatway for any consideration. They would think that they might do so too, andthat would make you a great deal of trouble. You teach them, I have nodoubt, that they must always put their playthings away, and they must seethat you set them a good example. Put these playthings all away quick, andcarefully, and we will not let them know any thing about your leaving themout. "

So the children went to work with great alacrity, and put the playthingsall away. And this method of treating the case was much more effectual inmaking them disposed to avoid committing a similar fault another time thanany direct rebukes or expressions of displeasure addressed personally tothem would have been. 

Besides, a scolding would have made them unhappy, and this did not makethem unhappy at all; it amused and entertained them. If you can leadchildren to cure themselves of their faults in such a way that they shallhave a good time in doing it, there is a double gain. 

In due time, by this kind of management, and by other modes conceived andexecuted in the same spirit, Bella gained so great an ascendency over thechildren that they were far more ready to conform to her will, and toobey all her directions, than they would have been to submit to the mostlegitimate authority that was maintained, as such authority too often is, by fault-finding and threats, and without any sympathy with the fancies andfeelings which reign over the hearts of the children in the little world inwhich they live. 

CHAPTER X. 

SYMPATHY:--1. THE CHILD WITH THE PARENT. 

The subject of sympathy between children and parents is to be considered intwo aspects: first, that of the child with the parent; and secondly, thatof the parent with the child. That is to say, an emotion may be awakened inthe child by its existence and manifestation in the parent, and secondly, it may be awakened in the parent by its existence in the child. 

We are all ready to acknowledge in words the great power and influenceof sympathy, but very few are aware how very vast this power is, and howinconceivably great is the function which this principle fulfills in theformation of the human character, and in regulating the conduct of men. 

_Mysterious Action of the Principle of Sympathy_. 

There is a great mystery in the nature of it, and in the manner of itsaction. This we see very clearly in the simplest and most striking materialform of it--the act of gaping. Why and how does the witnessing of the actof gaping in one person, or even the thought of it, produce a tendencyto the same action in the nerves and muscles of another person? When weattempt to trace the chain of connection through the eye, the brain, andthe thoughts--through which line of agencies the chain of cause and effectmust necessarily run--we are lost and bewildered. 

Other states and conditions in which the mental element is more apparentare communicated from one to another in the same or, at least, in someanalogous way. Being simply in the presence of one who is amused, or happy, or sad, causes us to feel amused, or happy, or sad ourselves--or, at least, has that tendency--even if we do not know from what cause the emotion whichis communicated to us proceeds. A person of a joyous and happy dispositionoften brightens up at once any little circle into which he enters, whilea morose and melancholy man carries gloom with him wherever he goes. Eloquence, which, if we were to hear it addressed to us personally andindividually, in private conversation, would move us very little, willexcite us to a pitch of the highest enthusiasm if we hear it in the midstof a vast audience; even though the words, and the gestures, and theinflections of the voice, and the force with which it reaches our ears, were to be precisely the same in the two cases. And so a joke, which wouldproduce only a quiet smile if we read it by ourselves at the firesidealone, will evoke convulsions of laughter when heard in a crowded theatre, where the hilarity is shared by thousands. 

A new element, indeed, seems to come into action in these last two cases;for the mental condition of one mind is not only communicated to another, but it appears to be increased and intensified by the communication. Eachdoes not feel _merely_ the enthusiasm or the mirth which would naturallybe felt by the other, but the general emotion is vastly heightened by itsbeing so largely shared. It is like the case of the live coal, which doesnot merely set the dead coal on fire by being placed in contact with it, but the two together, when together, burn far more brightly than whenapart. 

_Wonderful Power of Sympathy_. 

So much for the reality of this principle; and it is almost impossibleto exaggerate the extent and the magnitude of the influence it exerts informing the character and shaping the ideas and opinions of men, and inregulating all their ordinary habits of thought and feeling. People'sopinions are not generally formed or controlled by arguments or reasonings, as they fondly suppose. They are imbibed by sympathy from those whom theylike or love, and who are, or have been, their associates. Thus people, when they arrive at maturity, adhere in the main to the associations, bothin religion and in politics, in which they have been brought up, from theinfluence of sympathy with those whom they love. They believe in this orthat doctrine or system, not because they have been convinced by proof, but chiefly because those whom they love believe in them. On religiousquestions the arguments are presented to them, it is true, while they areyoung, in catechisms and in other forms of religious instruction, and inpolitics by the conversations which they overhear; but it is a mistake tosuppose that arguments thus offered have any material effect as processesof ratiocination in producing any logical conviction upon their minds. AnEnglish boy is Whig or Tory because his father, and his brothers, and hisuncles are Whigs or Tories. He may, indeed, have many arguments at hiscommand with which to maintain his opinions, but it is not the force of thearguments that has convinced him, nor do they have any force as a means ofconvincing the other boys to whom he offers them. _They_ are controlled bytheir sympathies, as he is by his. But if he is a popular boy, and makeshimself a favorite among his companions, the very fact that he is of thisor that party will have more effect upon the other boys than the mostlogical and conclusive trains of reasoning that can be conceived. 

So it is with the religious and political differences in this and in everyother country. Every one's opinions--or rather the opinion of people ingeneral, for of course there are many individual exceptions--are formedfrom sympathy with those with whom in mind and heart they have been infriendly communication during their years of childhood and youth. And evenin those cases where persons change their religious opinions in adult age, the explanation of the mystery is generally to be found, not in seeking forthe _argument that convinced them_, but for the _person that led them_, in the accomplishment of the change. For such changes can very often, andperhaps generally, be traced to some person or persons whose influence overthem, if carefully scrutinized, would be found to consist really not in theforce of the arguments they offered, but in the magic power of a silent andperhaps unconscious sympathy. The way, therefore, to convert people to ourideas and opinions is to make them like us or love us, and then to avoidarguing with them, but simply let them perceive what our ideas and opinionsare. 

The well-known proverb, "Example is better than precept, " is only anotherform of expressing the predominating power of sympathy; for example canhave little influence except so far as a sympathetic feeling in theobserver leads him to imitate it. So that, example is better than preceptmeans only that sympathy has more influence in the human heart thanreasoning. 

_The Power of Sympathy in Childhood_. 

This principle, so powerful at every period of life, is at its maximumin childhood. It is the origin, in a very great degree, of the spirit ofimitation which forms so remarkable a characteristic of the first yearsof life. The child's thoughts and feelings being spontaneously drawn intoharmony with the thoughts and feelings of those around him whom he loves, leads, of course, to a reproduction of their actions, and the prevalenceand universality of the effect shows how constant and how powerful is thecause. So the great secret of success for a mother, in the formation of thecharacter of her children, is to make her children respect and love her, and then simply to _be_ herself what she wishes them to be. 

And to make them respect and love her, is to control them by a firmgovernment where control is required, and to indulge them almost withoutlimit where indulgence will do no harm. 

_Special Application of the Principle_. 

But besides this general effect of the principle of sympathy in aidingparents in forming the minds and hearts of their children, there are agreat many cases in which a father or mother who understands the secret ofits wonderful and almost magic power can avail themselves of it to producespecial effects. One or two examples will show more clearly what I mean. 

William's aunt Maria came to pay his mother a visit in the village whereWilliam's mother lived. On the same day she went to take a walk withWilliam--who is about nine years old--to see the village. As they wentalong together upon the sidewalk, they came to two small boys who weretrying to fly a kite. One of the boys was standing upon the sidewalk, embarrassed a little by some entanglement of the string. 

"Here, you fellow!" said William, as he and his aunt approached the spot, "get out of the way with your kite, and let us go by. "

The boy hurried out of the way, and, in so doing, got his kite-string moreentangled still in the branches of a tree which grew at the margin of thesidewalk. 

Now William's aunt might have taken the occasion, as she and her nephewwalked along, to give him some kind and friendly instruction or counselabout the duty of being kind to every body in any difficulty, trouble, orperplexity, whether they are young or old; showing him how we increase thegeneral sum of happiness in so doing, and how we feel happier ourselveswhen we have done good to any one, than when we have increased in any way, or even slighted or disregarded, their troubles. How William would receivesuch a lecture would depend a great deal upon his disposition and state ofmind. But in most cases such counsels, given at such a time, involving, asthey would, some covert though very gentle censure, would cause the heartof the boy to close itself in a greater or less degree against them, likethe leaves of a sensitive-plant shrinking from the touch. The reply wouldvery probably be, "Well, he had no business to be on the sidewalk, right inour way. "

William and his aunt walked on a few steps. His aunt then stopped, hesitatingly, and said, "How would it do to go back and help that boy disentangle his kite-string?He's a little fellow, and does not know so much about kites andkite-strings as you do. "

Here the suggestion of giving help to perplexity and distress cameassociated with a compliment instead of what implied censure, and theleaves of the sensitive-plant expanded at once, and widely, to the genialinfluence. 

"Yes, " said William; "let's go. "

So his aunt turned and went back a step or two, and then said, "You can goand do it without me. I'll wait here till you come back. I don't supposeyou want any help from me. If you do, I'll come. "

"No, " aid William, "I can do it alone. "

So William ran on with great alacrity to help the boys clear the string, and then came back with a beaming face to his aunt, and they walked on. 

William's aunt made no further allusion to the affair until the end ofthe walk, and then, on entering the gate, she said, "We have had a verypleasant walk, and you have taken very good care of me. And I am glad wehelped those boys out of their trouble with the kite. "

"So am I, " said William. 

_Analysis of the Incident_. 

Now it is possible that some one may say that William was wrong in hisharsh treatment of the boys, or at least in his want of consideration fortheir perplexity; and that his aunt, by her mode of treating the case, covered up the wrong, when it ought to have been brought distinctly to viewand openly amended. But when we come to analyze the case, we shall findthat it is not at all certain that there was any thing wrong on William'spart in the transaction, so far as the state of his heart, in a moral pointof view, is concerned. All such incidents are very complicated in theirnature, and in their bearings and relations. They present many aspectswhich vary according to the point of view from which they are regarded. Even grown people do not always see all the different aspects of an affairin respect to which they are called upon to act or to form an opinion, andchildren, perhaps, never; and in judging their conduct, we must alwaysconsider the aspect in which the action is presented to their minds. Inthis case, William was thinking only of his aunt. He wished to make herwalk convenient and agreeable to her. The boy disentangling his string onthe sidewalk was to him, at that time, simply an obstacle in his aunt'sway, and he dealt with it as such, sending the boy off as an act ofkindness and attention to his aunt solely. The idea of a sentient beingsuffering distress which he might either increase by harshness or relieveby help was not present in his mind at all. We may say that he oughtto have thought of this. But a youthful mind, still imperfect in itsdevelopment, can not be expected to take cognizance at once of all theaspects of a transaction which tends in different directions to differentresults. It is true, that he ought to have thought of the distress of theboys, if we mean that he ought to be taught or trained to think of suchdistress when he witnessed it; and that was exactly what his aunt wasendeavoring to do. We ourselves have learned, by long experience of life, to perceive at once the many different aspects which an affair may present, and the many different results which may flow in various directions fromthe same action; and we often inconsiderately blame children, simplybecause their minds are yet so imperfectly developed that they can not takesimultaneous cognizance of more than one or two of them. This is the truephilosophy of most of what is called heedlessness in children, and forwhich, poor things, they receive so many harsh reprimands and so muchpunishment. 

A little girl, for example, undertakes to water her sister's plants. In herpraiseworthy desire to do her work well and thoroughly, she fills the mugtoo full, and spills the water upon some books that are lying upon thetable. The explanation of the misfortune is simply that her mind wasfilled, completely filled, with the thoughts of helping her sister. Thethought of the possibility of spilling the water did not come into it atall. There was no room for it while the other thought, so engrossing, wasthere; and to say that she _ought_ to have thought of both the resultswhich might follow her action, is only to say that she ought to be older. 

_Sympathy as the Origin of childish Fears_. 

The power of sympathy in the mind of a child--that is, its tendencyto imbibe the opinions or sentiments manifested by others in theirpresence--may be made very effectual, not only in inculcating principles ofright and wrong, but in relation to every other idea or emotion. Childrenare afraid of thunder and lightning, or of robbers at night, or of ghosts, because they perceive that their parents, or older brothers or sisters, areafraid of them. Where the parents do not believe in ghosts, the childrenare not afraid of them; unless, indeed, there are domestics in the house, or playmates at school, or other companions from whom they take thecontagion. So, what they see that their parents value they prizethemselves. They imbibe from their playmates at school a very largeproportion of their tastes, their opinions, and their ideas, not througharguments or reasoning, but from sympathy; and most of the wrong or foolishnotions of any kind that they have acquired have not been established intheir minds by false reasoning, but have been taken by sympathy, as adisease is communicated by infection; and the remedy is in most cases, notreasoning, but a countervailing sympathy. 

_Afraid of a Kitten_. 

Little Jane was very much afraid of a kitten which her brother broughthome--the first that she had known. She had, however, seen a picture of atiger or some other feline animal devouring a man in a forest, and hadbeen frightened by it; and she had heard too, perhaps, of children beingscratched by cats or kittens. So, when the kitten was brought in and putdown on the floor, she ran to her sister in great terror, and began to cry. 

Now her sister might have attempted to reason with her by explaining thedifference between the kitten and the wild animals of the same class in thewoods, and by assuring her that thousands of children have kittens to playwith and are never scratched by them so long as they treat them kindly--andall without producing any sensible effect. But, instead of this, sheadopted a different plan. She took the child up into her lap, and afterquieting her fears, began to talk to the kitten. 

"Poor little pussy, " said she, "I am glad you have come. You never scratchany body, I am sure, if they are kind to you. Jennie will give you somemilk some day, and she and I will like to see you lap it up with yourpretty little tongue. And we will give you a ball to play with some dayupon the carpet. See, Jennie, see! She is going to lie down upon the rug. She is glad that she has come to such a nice home. Now she is putting herhead down, but she has not any pillow to lay it upon. Wouldn't you like apillow, kitty? Jennie will make you a pillow some day, I am sure, if youwould like one. Jennie is beginning to learn to sew, and she could make youa nice pillow, and stuff it with cotton wool. Then we can see you lyingdown upon the rug, with the pillow under your head that Jennie will havemade for you--all comfortable. "

Such a talk as this, though it could not be expected entirely and at onceto dispel Jennie's unfounded fears, would be far more effectual towardsbeginning the desired change than any arguments or reasoning could possiblybe. 

Any mother who will reflect upon the principle here explained will at oncerecall to mind many examples and illustrations of its power over the heartsand minds of children which her own experience has afforded. And if shebegins practically and systematically to appeal to it, she will findherself in possession of a new element of power--new, at least, to herrealization--the exercise of which will be as easy and agreeable to herselfas it will be effective in its influence over her children. 

CHAPTER XI. 

SYMPATHY:--II. THE PARENT WITH THE CHILD. 

I think there can be no doubt that the most effectual way of securing theconfidence and love of children, and of acquiring an ascendency over them, is by sympathizing with them in their child-like hopes and fears, and joysand sorrows--in their ideas, their fancies, and even in their caprices, inall cases where duty is not concerned. Indeed, the more child-like, thatis, the more peculiar to the children themselves, the feelings are that weenter into with them, the closer is the bond of kindness and affection thatis formed. 

_An Example_. 

If a gentleman coming to reside in a new town concludes that it isdesirable that he should be on good terms with the boys in the streets, there are various ways by which he can seek to accomplish the end. Fortunately for him, the simplest and easiest mode is the most effectual. On going into the village one day, we will suppose he sees two small boysplaying horse. One boy is horse, and the other driver. As they draw near, they check the play a little, to be more decorous in passing by thestranger. He stops to look at them with a pleased expression ofcountenance, and then says, addressing the driver, with a face of muchseriousness, "That's a first-rate horse of yours. Would you like to sellhim? He seems to be very spirited. " The horse immediately begins to pranceand caper. "You must have paid a high price for him. You must take goodcare of him. Give him plenty of oats, and don't drive him hard when it ishot weather. And if ever you conclude to sell him, I wish you would let meknow. "

So saying, the gentleman walks on, and the horse, followed by his driver, goes galloping forward in high glee. 

Now, by simply manifesting thus a fellow-feeling with the boys in theirchildish play, the stranger not only gives a fresh impulse to theirenjoyment at the time, but establishes a friendly relationship between themand him which, without his doing any thing to strengthen or perpetuate it, will of itself endure for a long time. If he does not speak to the boysagain for months, every time they meet him they will be ready to greet himwith a smile. 

The incident will go much farther towards establishing friendly relationsbetween him and them than any presents that he could make them--except sofar as his presents were of such a kind, and were given in such a way, asto be expressions of kindly feeling towards them--that is to say, such asto constitute of themselves a manifestation of sympathy. 

The uncle who gives his nephews and nieces presents, let them be ever socostly or beautiful, and takes no interest in their affairs, never inspiresthem with any feeling of personal affection. They like him as they like theapple-tree which bears them sweet and juicy apples, or the cow that givesthem milk--which is on their part a very different sentiment from thatwhich they feel for the kitten that plays with them and shares theirjoys--or even for their dolls, which are only pictured in their imaginationas sharing them. 

_Sophronia and Aurelia_. 

Miss Sophronia calls at a house to make a visit. A child of seven or eightyears of age is playing upon the floor. After a little time, at a pausein the conversation, she calls the child--addressing her as "My littlegirl"--to come to her. The child--a shade being cast over her mind by beingthus unnecessarily reminded of her littleness--hesitates to come. Themother says, "Come and shake hands with the lady, my dear!" The child comesreluctantly. Miss Sophronia asks what her name is, how old she is, whethershe goes to school, what she studies there, and whether she likes to go toschool, and at length releases her. The child, only too glad to be freefrom such a tiresome visitor, goes back to her play, and afterwards theonly ideas she has associated with the person of her visitor are thoserelating to her school and her lessons, which may or may not be of anagreeable character. 

Presently, after Miss Sophronia has gone, Miss Aurelia comes in. After someconversation with the mother, she goes to see what the child is buildingwith her blocks. After looking on for a moment with an expression ofinterest in her countenance, she asks her if she has a doll. The child saysshe has four. Miss Aurelia then asks which she likes best, and expresses adesire to see that one. The child, much pleased, runs away to bring it, andpresently comes back with all four. Miss Aurelia takes them in her hands, examines them, talks about them, and talks to them; and when at last thechild goes back to her play, she goes with the feeling in her heart thatshe has found a new friend. 

Thus, to bring ourselves near to the hearts of children, we must go to themby entering into _their world_. They can not come to us by entering ours. They have no experience of it, and can not understand it. But we have hadexperience of theirs, and can enter it if we choose; and in that way webring ourselves very near to them. 

_Sympathy must be Sincere_. 

But the sympathy which we thus express with children, in order to beeffectual, must be sincere and genuine, and not pretended. We must renewour own childish ideas and imaginations, and become for the moment, infeeling, one with them, so that the interest which we express in what theyare saying or doing may be real, and not merely assumed. They seem to havea natural instinct to distinguish between an honest and actual sharingof their thoughts and emotions, and all mere condescension and pretense, however adroitly it may be disguised. 

_Want of Time_. 

Some mothers may perhaps say that they have not time thus to enter intothe ideas and occupations of their children. They are engrossed with theserious cares of life, or busy with its various occupations. But it doesnot require time. It is not a question of time, but of manner. The farmer'swife, for example, is busy ironing, or sewing, or preparing breakfast forher husband and sons, who are expected every moment to come in hungry fromtheir work. Her little daughter, ten years old, comes to show her a shawlshe has been making from a piece of calico for her doll. The busymother thinks she must say, "Yes; but run away now, Mary; I am verybusy!"--because that is the easiest and quickest thing to say; but it isjust as easy and just as quick to say, "What a pretty shawl! Play now thatyou are going to take Minette out for a walk in it!" The one mode sends thechild away repulsed and a little disappointed; the other pleases her andmakes her happy, and tends, moreover, to form a new bond of union andsympathy between her mother's heart and her own. A merchant, engrossed allday in his business, comes home to his house at dinner-time, and meets hisboy of fifteen on the steps returning from his school. "Well, James, " hesays, as they walk together up stairs, "I hope you have been a good boy atschool to-day. " James, not knowing what to say, makes some inaudible orunmeaning reply. His father then goes on to say that he hopes his boy willbe diligent and attentive to his studies, and improve his time well, ashis future success in life will depend upon the use which he makes ofhis advantages while he is young; and then leaves him at the head of thestairs, each to go to his room. 

All this is very well. Advice given under such circumstances and in such away produces, undoubtedly, a certain good effect, but it does not tend atall to bring the father and son together. But if, instead of giving thiscommon-place advice, the father asks--supposing it to be winter at thetime--"Which kind of skates are the most popular among the boys nowadays, James?" Then, after hearing his reply, he asks him what _his_ opinion is, and whether any great improvement has been made within a short time, andwhether the patent inventions are any of them of much consequence. Thetendency of such a conversation as this, equally brief with the other, willbe to draw the father and son more together. Even in a moral point of view, the influence would be, indirectly, very salutary; for although no moralcounsel or instruction was given at the time, the effect of such aparticipation in the thoughts with which the boy's mind is occupied is tostrengthen the bond of union between the heart of the boy and that of hisfather, and thus to make the boy far more ready to receive and be guided bythe advice or admonitions of his father on other occasions. 

Let no one suppose, from these illustrations, that they are intended toinculcate the idea that a father is to lay aside the parental counselsand instructions that he has been accustomed to give to his children, andreplace them by talks about skates! They are only intended to showone aspect of the difference of effect produced by the two kinds ofconversation, and that the father, if he wishes to gain and retain aninfluence over the hearts of his boys, must descend sometimes into theworld in which they live, and with which their thoughts are occupied, and must enter it, not merely as a spectator, or a fault-finder, or acounsellor, but as a sharer, to some extent, in the ideas and feelingswhich are appropriate to it. 

_Ascendency over the Minds of Children_. 

Sympathizing with children in their own pleasures and enjoyments, howeverchildish they may seem to us when we do not regard them, as it were, withchildren's eyes, is, perhaps, the most powerful of all the means at ourcommand for gaining a powerful ascendency over them. This will lead us notto interfere with their own plans and ideas, but to be willing that theyshould be happy in their own way. In respect to their duties, thoseconnected, for example, with their studies, their serious employments, and their compliance with directions of any kind emanating from superiorauthority, of course their will must be under absolute subjection to thatof those who are older and wiser than they. In all such things they mustbring their thoughts and actions into accord with ours. In these thingsthey must come to us, not we to them. But in every thing that relatesto their child-like pleasures and joys, their modes of recreation andamusement, their playful explorations of the mysteries of things, and thevarious novelties around them in the strange world into which they findthemselves ushered--in all these things we must not attempt to bring themto us, but must go to them. In this, their own sphere, the more perfectlythey are at liberty, the better; and if we join them in it at all, we mustdo so by bringing our ideas and wishes into accord with theirs. 

_Foolish Fears_. 

The effect of our sympathy with children in winning their confidence andlove, is all the more powerful when it is exercised in cases where they arenaturally inclined not to expect sympathy--that is, in relation to feelingswhich they would suppose that older persons would be inclined to condemn. Perhaps the most striking example of this is in what is commonly calledfoolish fears. Now a fear is foolish or otherwise, not according to theabsolute facts involving the supposed danger, but according to the meanswhich the person in question has of knowing the facts. A lady, for example, in passing along the sidewalk of a great city comes to a place whereworkmen are raising an immense and ponderous iron safe, which, slowlyrising, hangs suspended twenty feet above the walk. She is afraid to passunder it. The foreman, however, who is engaged in directing the operation, passing freely to and fro under the impending weight, as he has occasion, and without the least concern, smiles, perhaps, at the lady's "foolishfears. " But the fears which might, perhaps, be foolish in him, are not soin her, since he _knows_ the nature and the strength of the machineryand securities above, and she does not. She only knows that accidents dosometimes happen from want of due precaution in raising heavy weights, andshe does not know, and has no means of knowing, whether or not the dueprecautions have been taken in this case. So she manifests good sense, andnot folly, in going out of her way to avoid all possibility of danger. 

This is really the proper explanation of a large class of what are usuallytermed foolish fears. Viewed in the light of the individual's knowledge ofthe facts in the case, they are sensible fears, and not foolish ones atall. 

A girl of twelve, from the city, spending the summer in the country, wishesto go down to the river to join her brothers there, but is stopped byobserving a cow in a field which she has to cross. She comes back to thehouse, and is there laughed at for her foolishness in being; "afraid of acow!"

But why should she not be afraid of a cow? She has heard stories of peoplebeing gored by bulls, and sometimes by cows, and she has no means whateverof estimating the reality or the extent of the danger in any particularcase. The farmer's daughters, however, who laugh at her, know the cow inquestion perfectly well. They have milked her, and fed her, and tied her upto her manger a hundred times; so, while it would be a very foolish thingfor them to be afraid to cross a field where the cow was feeding, it is avery sensible thing for the stranger-girl from the city to be so. 

Nor would it certainly change the case much for the child, if the farmer'sgirls were to assure her that the cow was perfectly peaceable, and thatthere was no danger; for she does not know the girls any better than shedoes the cow, and can not judge how far their statements or opinions are tobe relied upon. It may possibly not be the cow they think it is. They arevery positive, it is true; but very positive people are often mistaken. Besides, the cow may be peaceable with them, and yet be disposed to attacka stranger. What a child requires in such a case is sympathy and help, notridicule. 

[Illustration: AFRAID OF THE COW. ]

This, in the case supposed, she meets in the form of the farmer's son, ayoung man browned in face and plain in attire, who comes along while shestands loitering at the fence looking at the cow, and not daring after all, notwithstanding the assurances she has received at the house, to crossthe field. His name is Joseph, and he is a natural gentleman--a class ofpersons of whom a much larger number is found in this humble guise, and amuch smaller number in proportion among the fashionables in elegant life, than is often supposed. "Yes, " says Joseph, after hearing the child'sstatement of the case, "you are right. Cows are sometimes vicious, I know;and you are perfectly right to be on your guard against such as you do notknow when you meet them in the country. This one, as it happens, is verykind; but still, I will go through the field with you. "

So he goes with her through the field, stopping on the way to talk a littleto the cow, and to feed her with an apple which he has in his pocket. 

It is in this spirit that the fears, and antipathies, and falseimaginations of children are generally to be dealt with; though, of course, there may be many exceptions to the general rule. 

_When Children are in the Wrong_. 

There is a certain sense in which we should feel a sympathy with childrenin the wrong that they do. It would seem paradoxical to say that in anysense there should be sympathy with sin, and yet there is a sense in whichthis is true, though perhaps, strictly speaking, it is sympathy with thetrial and temptation which led to the sin, rather than with the act oftransgression itself. In whatever light a nice metaphysical analysis wouldlead us to regard it, it is certain that the most successful efforts thathave been made by philanthropists for reaching the hearts and reforming theconduct of criminals and malefactors have been prompted by a feeling ofcompassion for them, not merely for the sorrows and sufferings which theyhave brought upon themselves by their wrongdoing, but for the mentalconflicts which they endured, the fierce impulses of appetite and passion, more or less connected with and dependent upon the material condition ofthe bodily organs, under the onset of which their feeble moral sense, neverreally brought into a condition of health and vigor, was over-borne. Thesemerciful views of the diseased condition and action of the soul in thecommission of crime are not only in themselves right views for man to takeof the crimes and sins of his fellow-man, but they lie at the foundation ofall effort that can afford any serious hope of promoting reformation. 

This principle is eminently true in its application to children. They needthe influence of a kind and considerate sympathy when they have done wrong, more, perhaps, than at any other time; and the effects of the propermanifestation of this sympathy on the part of the mother will, perhaps, begreater and more salutary in this case than in any other. Of course thesympathy must be of the right kind, and must be expressed in the right way, so as not to allow the tenderness or compassion for the wrong-doer to bemistaken for approval or justification of the wrong. 

_Case supposed_. 

A boy, for instance, comes home from school in a state of great distress, and perhaps of indignation and resentment, on account of having beenpunished. Mothers sometimes say at once, in such a case, "I don't pity youat all. I have no doubt you deserved it. " This only increases the tumult ofcommotion in the boy's mind, without at all tending to help him to feel asense of his guilt. His mind, still imperfectly developed, can not takecognizance simultaneously of all the parts and all the aspects of acomplicated transaction. The sense of his wrong-doing, which forms in histeacher's and in his mother's mind so essential a part of the transaction, is not present in his conceptions at all. There is no room for it, sototally engrossed are all his faculties with the stinging recollections ofsuffering, the tumultuous emotions of anger and resentment, and now withthe additional thought that even his mother has taken part against him. Themother's conception of the transaction is equally limited and imperfect, though in a different way. She thinks only that if she were to treat thechild with kindness and sympathy, she would be taking the part of a bad boyagainst his teacher; whereas, in reality, she might do it in such a way asonly to be taking the part of a suffering boy against his pain. 

It would seem that the true and proper course for a mother to take witha child in such a case would be to soothe and calm his agitation, and tolisten, if need be, to his account of the affair, without questioningor controverting it at all, however plainly she may see that, under theblinding and distorting influence of his excitement, he is misrepresentingthe facts. Let him tell his story. Listen to it patiently to the end. It isnot necessary to express or even to form an opinion on the merits of it. The ready and willing hearing of one side of a case does not commit thetribunal to a decision in favor of that side. On the other hand, it is theonly way to give weight and a sense of impartiality to a decision againstit. 

Thus the mother may sympathize with her boy in his troubles, appreciatefully the force of the circumstances which led him into the wrong, and helpto soothe and calm his agitation, and thus take his part, and place herselfclosely to him in respect to his suffering, without committing herself atall in regard to the original cause of it; and then, at a subsequent time, when the tumult of his soul has subsided, she can, if she thinks best, farmore easily and effectually lead him to see wherein he was wrong. 

CHAPTER XII. 

COMMENDATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT. 

We are very apt to imagine that the disposition to do right is, or ought tobe, the natural and normal condition of childhood, and that doing wrong issomething unnatural and exceptional with children. As a consequence, whenthey do right we think there is nothing to be said. That is, or ought tobe, a matter of course. It is only when they do wrong that we noticetheir conduct, and then, of course, with censure and reproaches. Thus ourdiscipline consists mainly, not in gently leading and encouraging them inthe right way, but in deterring them, by fault-finding and punishment, fromgoing wrong. 

Now we ought not to forget that in respect to moral conduct as well as tomental attainments children know nothing when they come into the world, buthave every thing to learn, either from the instructions or from theexample of those around them. We do not propose to enter at all into theconsideration of the various theological and metaphysical theories held bydifferent classes of philosophers in respect to the native constitutionand original tendencies of the human soul, but to look at the phenomenaof mental and moral action in a plain and practical way, as they presentthemselves to the observation of mothers in the every-day walks of life. And in order the better to avoid any complication with these theories, wewill take first an extremely simple case, namely, the fault of making toomuch noise in opening and shutting the door in going in and out of a room. Georgie and Charlie are two boys, both about five years old, and both proneto the same fault. We will suppose that their mothers take oppositemethods to correct them; Georgie's mother depending upon the influence ofcommendation and encouragement when he does right, and Charlie's, upon theefficacy of reproaches and punishments when he does wrong. 

_One Method_. 

Georgie, eager to ask his mother some question, or to obtain somepermission in respect to his play, bursts into her room some morning withgreat noise, opening and shutting the door violently, and making muchdisturbance. In a certain sense he is not to blame for this, for he iswholly unconscious of the disturbance he makes. The entire cognizantcapacity of his mind is occupied with the object of his request. He notonly had no intention of doing any harm, but has no idea of his having doneany. 

His mother takes no notice of the noise he made, but answers his question, and he goes away making almost as much noise in going out as he did incoming in. 

The next time he comes in it happens--entirely by accident, we willsuppose--that he makes a little less noise than before. This furnishes hismother with her opportunity. 

"Georgie, " she says, "I see you are improving. "

"Improving?" repeats Georgie, not knowing to what his mother refers. 

"Yes, " said his mother; "you are improving, in coming into the room withoutmaking a noise by opening and shutting the door. You did not make nearlyas much noise this time as you did before when you came in. Some boys, whenever they come into a room, make so much noise in opening and shuttingthe door that it is very disagreeable. If you go on improving as you havebegun, you will soon come in as still as any gentleman. "

The next time that Georgie comes in, he takes the utmost pains to open andshut the door as silently as possible. 

He makes his request. His mother shows herself unusually ready to grant it. 

"You opened and shut the door like a gentleman, " she says. "I ought to doevery thing for you that I can, when you take so much pains not to disturbor trouble me. "

_Another Method_. 

Charlie's mother, on the other hand, acts on a different principle. Charliecomes in sometimes, we will suppose, in a quiet and proper manner. Hismother takes no notice of this. She considers it a matter of course. By-and-by, however, under the influence of some special eagerness, he makesa great noise. Then his mother interposes. She breaks out upon him with, "Charlie, what a noise you make! Don't you know better than to slam thedoer in that way when you come in? If you can't learn to make less noise ingoing in and out, I shall not let you go in and out at all. "

Charlie knows very well that this is an empty threat. Still, the utteranceof it, and the scolding that accompanies it, irritate him a little, and theonly possible good effect that can be expected to result from it is to makehim try, the next time he comes in, to see how small an abatement of thenoise he usually makes will do, as a kind of make-believe obedience to hismother's command. He might, indeed, honestly answer his mother's angryquestion by saying that he does _not_ know better than to make such anoise. He does not know why the noise of the door should be disagreeableto his mother. It is not disagreeable to _him_. On the contrary, itis agreeable. Children always like noise, especially if they make itthemselves. And although Charlie has often been told that he must not makeany noise, the reason for this--namely, that though noise is a source ofpleasure, generally, to children, especially when they make it themselves, it is almost always a source of annoyance and pain to grown persons--hasnever really entered his mind so as to be actually comprehended usa practical reality. His ideas in respect to the philosophy of thetransaction are, of course, exceedingly vague; but so far as he forms anyidea, it is that his mother's words are the expression of some mysteriousbut unreasonable sensitiveness on her part, which awakens in her a spiritof fault-finding and ill-humor that vents itself upon him in blaming himfor nothing at all; or, as he would express it more tersely, if not soelegantly, that she is "very cross. " In other words, the impression madeby the transaction upon his moral sense is that of wrong-doing on his_mother's part_, and not at all on his own. 

It is evident, when we thus look into the secret workings of this methodof curing children of their faults, that even when it is successful inrestraining certain kinds of outward misconduct, and is thus the meansof effecting some small amount of good, the injury which it does by itsreaction on the spirit of the child may be vastly greater, through theirritation and ill-humor which it occasions, and the impairing of hisconfidence in the justice and goodness of his mother. Before leaving thisillustration, it must be carefully observed that in the first-mentionedcase--namely, that of Georgie--the work of curing the fault in question isnot to be at all considered as _effected_ by the step taken by his motherwhich has been already described. That was only a beginning--a _right_beginning, it is true, but still only a beginning. It produced in him acordial willingness to do right, in one instance. That is a great thing, but it is, after all, only one single step. The work is not complete untila _habit_ of doing right is formed, which is another thing altogether, andrequires special and continual measures directed to this particular end. Children have to be _trained_ in the way they should go--not merely shownthe way, and induced to make a beginning of entering it. We will now tryto show how the influence of commendation and encouragement may be broughtinto action in this more essential part of the process. 

_Habit to be Formed_. 

Having taken the first step already described, Georgie's mother findssome proper opportunity, when she can have the undisturbed and undividedattention of her boy--perhaps at night, after he has gone to his crib orhis trundle-bed, and just before she leaves him; or, perhaps, at some timewhile she is at work, and he is sitting by her side, with his mind calm, quiet, and unoccupied. 

"Georgie, " she says, "I have a plan to propose to you. "

Georgie is eager to know what it is. 

"You know how pleased I was when you came in so still to-day. "

Georgie remembers it very well. 

"It is very curious, " continued his mother, "that there is a greatdifference between grown people and children about noise. Children _like_almost all kinds of noises very much, especially, if they make the noisesthemselves; but grown people dislike them even more, I think, than childrenlike them. If there were a number of boys in the house, and I should tellthem that they might run back and forth through the rooms, and rattle andslam all the doors as they went as loud as they could, they would like itvery much. They would think it excellent fun. "

"Yes, " says Georgie, "indeed, they would. I wish you would let us do itsome day. "

"But grown people, " continues his mother, "would not like such an amusementat all. On the contrary, such a racket would be excessively disagreeable tothem, whether they made it themselves or whether somebody else made it. So, when children come into a room where grown people are sitting, and make anoise in opening and shutting the door, it is very disagreeable. Of course, grown people always like those children the best that come into a roomquietly, and in a gentlemanly and lady-like manner. "

As this explanation comes in connection with Georgia's having done right, and with the commendation which he has received for it, his mind and heartare open to receive it, instead of being disposed to resist and exclude it, as he would have been if the same things exactly had been said to him inconnection with censure and reproaches for having acted in violation of theprinciple. 

"Yes, mother, " says he, "and I mean always to open and shut the door asstill as I can. "

"Yes, I know you _mean_ to do so, " rejoined his mother, "but you willforget, unless you have some plan to make you remember it until the _habitis formed_. Now I have a plan to propose to help you form the habit. Whenyou get the habit once formed there will be no more difficulty. 

"The plan is this: whenever you come into a room making a noise, I willsimply say, _Noise_. Then you will step back again softly and shut thedoor, and then come in again in a quiet and proper way. You will not goback for punishment, for you would not have made the noise on purpose, andso would not deserve any punishment. It is only to help you remember, andso to form the habit of coming into a room in a quiet and gentlemanlymanner. "

Now Georgie, especially if all his mother's management of him is conductedin this spirit, will enter into this plan with great cordiality. 

"I should not propose this plan, " continued his mother, "if I thought thatwhen I say _Noise_, and you have to go out and come in again, it wouldput you out of humor, and make you cross or sullen. I am sure you will begood-natured about it, and even if you consider it a kind of punishment, that you will go out willingly, and take the punishment like a man; andwhen you come in again you will come in still, and look pleased and happyto find that you are carrying out the plan honorably. "

Then if, on the first occasion when he is sent back, he _does_ take itgood-naturedly, this must be noticed and commended. 

Now, unless we are entirely wrong in all our ideas of the nature andtendencies of the infantile mind, it is as certain that a course ofprocedure like this will be successful in curing the fault which is thesubject of treatment, as that water will extinguish fire. It cures it, too, without occasioning any irritation, annoyance, or ill-humor in the mindeither of mother or child. On the contrary, it is a source of realsatisfaction and pleasure to them both, and increases and strengthens thebond of sympathy by which their hearts are united to each other. 

_The Principle involved_. 

It must be understood distinctly that this case is given only as anillustration of a principle which is applicable to all cases. The actof opening and shutting a door in a noisy manner is altogether tooinsignificant a fault to deserve this long discussion of the method ofcuring it, were it not that methods founded on the same principles, andconducted in the same spirit, are applicable universally in all thatpertains to the domestic management of children. And it is a method, too, directly the opposite of that which is often--I will not say generally, butcertainly very often--pursued. The child tells the truth many times, andin some cases, perhaps, when the inducement was very strong to tell anuntruth. We take no notice of these cases, considering it a matter ofcourse that he should tell the truth. We reserve our action altogether forthe first case when, overcome by a sudden temptation, he tells a lie, andthen interpose with reproaches and punishment. Nineteen times he gives upwhat belongs to his little brother or sister of his own accord, perhapsafter a severe internal struggle. The twentieth time the result of thestruggle goes the wrong way, and he attempts to retain by violence whatdoes not belong to him. We take no notice of the nineteen cases when thelittle fellow did right, but come and box his ears in the one case when hedoes wrong. 

_Origin of the Error_. 

The idea on which this mode of treatment is founded--namely, that it isa _matter of course_ that children should do right, so that when they doright there is nothing to be said, and that doing wrong is the abnormalcondition and exceptional action which alone requires the parent tointerfere--is, to a great extent, a mistake. Indeed, the _matter of course_is all the other way. A babe will seize the plaything of another babewithout the least compunction long after it is keenly alive to theinjustice and wrongfulness of having its own playthings taken by any otherchild. So in regard to truth. The first impulse of all children, when theyhave just acquired the use of language, is to use it in such a way as toeffect their object for the time being, without any sense of the sacredobligation of making the words always correspond truly with the facts. Theprinciples of doing justice to the rights of others to one's own damage, and of speaking the truth when falsehood would serve the present purposebetter, are principles that are developed or acquired by slow degrees, andat a later period. I say developed _or_ acquired--for different classes ofmetaphysicians and theologians entertain different theories in respect tothe way by which the ideas of right and of duty enter into the human mind. But all will agree in this, that whatever may be the origin of the moralsense in man, it does not appear as a _practical element of control for theconduct_ till some time after the animal appetites and passions have begunto exercise their power. Whether we regard this sense as arising from adevelopment within of a latent principle of the soul, or as an essentialelement of the inherited and native constitution of man, though remainingfor a time embryonic and inert, or as a habit acquired under the influenceof instruction and example, all will admit that the period of itsappearance as a perceptible motive of action is so delayed, and the timerequired for its attaining sufficient strength to exercise any real andeffectual control over the conduct extends over so many of the earlieryears of life, that no very material help in governing the appetites andpassions and impulses can be reasonably expected from it at a very earlyperiod. Indeed, conscience, so far as its existence is manifested at all inchildhood, seems to show itself chiefly in the form of the simple _fear ofdetection_ in what there is reason to suppose will lead, if discovered, toreproaches or punishment. 

At any rate, the moral sense in childhood, whatever may be our philosophyin respect to the origin and the nature of it, can not be regarded as astrong and settled principle on which we can throw the responsibility ofregulating the conduct, and holding it sternly to its obligations. Itis, on the contrary, a very tender plant, slowly coming forward to thedevelopment of its beauty and its power, and requiring the most gentlefostering and care on the part of those intrusted with the training of theinfant mind; and the influence of commendation and encouragement when theembryo monitor succeeds in its incipient and feeble efforts, will be farmore effectual in promoting its development, than that of censure andpunishment when it fails. 

_Important Caution_. 

For every good thing there seems to be something in its form and semblancethat is spurious and bad. The principle brought to view in this chapter hasits counterfeit in the indiscriminate praise and flattery of children bytheir parents, which only makes them self-conceited and vain, without atall promoting any good end. The distinction between the two might be easilypointed out, if time and space permitted; but the intelligent parent, whohas rightly comprehended the method of management here described, and thespirit in which the process of applying it is to be made, will be in nodanger of confounding one with the other. 

This principle of noticing and commending, within proper limits andrestrictions, what is right, rather than finding fault with what is wrong, will be found to be as important in the work of instruction as in theregulation of conduct. We have, in fact, a very good opportunity ofcomparing the two systems, as it is a curious fact that in certain thingsit is almost the universal custom to adopt one method, and in certainothers, the other. 

_The two Methods exemplified_. 

There are, for example, two arts which children have to learn, in theprocess of their mental and physical development, in which their faults, errors, and deficiencies are never pointed out, but in the dealings oftheir parents with them all is commendation and encouragement. They are thearts of walking and talking. 

The first time that a child attempts to walk alone, what a feeble, staggering, and awkward exhibition it makes. And yet its mother shows, by the excitement of her countenance, and the delight expressed by herexclamations, how pleased she is with the performance; and she, perhaps, even calls in persons from the next room to see how well the baby canwalk! Not a word about imperfections and failings, not a word about thetottering, the awkward reaching out of arms to preserve the balance, thecrookedness of the way, the anxious expression of the countenance, orany other faults. These are left to correct themselves by the continuedpractice which encouragement is sure to lead to. 

It is true that words would not be available in such a case forfault-finding; for a child when learning to walk would be too young tounderstand them. But the parent's sense of the imperfections of theperformance might be expressed in looks and gestures which the child wouldunderstand; but he sees, on the contrary, nothing but indications ofsatisfaction and pleasure, and it is very manifest how much he isencouraged by them. Seeing the pleasure which his efforts give to thespectators, he is made proud and happy by his success, and goes on makingefforts to improve with alacrity and delight. 

It is the same with learning to talk. The mistakes, deficiencies, anderrors of the first rude attempts are seldom noticed, and still more seldompointed out by the parent. On the contrary, the child takes the impression, from the readiness with which its words are understood and the delight itevidently gives its mother to hear them, that it is going on triumphantlyin its work of learning to talk, instead of feeling that its attempts areonly tolerated because they are made by such a little child, and that theyrequire a vast amount of correction, alteration, and improvement, beforethey will be at all satisfactory. Indeed, so far from criticising andpointing out the errors and faults, the mother very frequently meets thechild half way in its progress, by actually adopting the faults and errorsherself in her replies. So that when the little beginner in the use oflanguage, as he wakes up in his crib, and stretching out his hands to hismother says, "I want _to get up_" she comes to take him, and replies, herface beaming with delight, "My little darling! you shall _get up_;" thusfilling his mind with happiness at the idea that his mother is not onlypleased that he attempts to speak, but is fully satisfied, and more thansatisfied, with his success. 

The result is, that in learning to walk and to talk, children alwaysgo forward with alacrity and ardor. They practise continually andspontaneously, requiring no promises of reward to allure them to effort, and no threats of punishment to overcome repugnance or aversion. It mightbe too much to say that the rapidity of their progress and the pleasurewhich they experience in making it, are owing wholly to the commendationand encouragement they receive--for other causes may co-operate with these. But it is certain that these influences contribute very essentially to theresult. There can be no doubt at all that if it were possible for a motherto stop her child in its efforts to learn to walk and to talk, and explainto it, no matter how kindly, all its shortcomings, failures, and mistakes, and were to make this her daily and habitual practice, the consequencewould be, not only a great diminution of the ardor and animation of thelittle pupil, in pressing forward in its work, but also a great retardationin its progress. 

_Example of the other Method_. 

Let us now, for the more full understanding of the subject, go to the otherextreme, and consider a case in which the management is as far as possibleremoved from that above referred to. We can not have a better examplethan the method often adopted in schools and seminaries for teachingcomposition; in other words, the art of expressing one's thoughts inwritten language--an art which one would suppose to be so analogous tothat of learning to talk--that is, to express one's thoughts in _oral_language--that the method which was found so eminently successful in theone would be naturally resorted to in the other. Instead of that, themethod often pursued is exactly the reverse. The pupil having with infinitedifficulty, and with many forebodings and anxious fears, made his firstattempt, brings it to his teacher. The teacher, if he is a kind-hearted andconsiderate man, perhaps briefly commends the effort with some such dubiousand equivocal praise as it is "Very well for a beginner, " or "As good acomposition as could be expected at the first attempt, " and then proceedsto go over the exercise in a cool and deliberate manner, with a view ofdiscovering and bringing out clearly and conspicuously to the view, notonly of the little author himself, but often of all his classmates andfriends, every imperfection, failure, mistake, omission, or other faultwhich a rigid scrutiny can detect in the performance. However kindly hemay do this, and however gentle the tones of his voice, still the work iscriticism and fault-finding from beginning to end. The boy sits on thornsand nettles while submitting to the operation, and when he takes his markedand corrected manuscript to his seat, he feels mortified and ashamed, andis often hopelessly discouraged. 

_How Faults are to be Corrected_. 

Some one may, perhaps, say that pointing out the errors and faults ofpupils is absolutely essential to their progress, inasmuch as, unless theyare made to see what their faults are, they can not be expected to correctthem. I admit that this is true to a certain extent, but by no means toso great an extent as is often supposed. There are a great many ways ofteaching pupils to do better what they are going to do, besides showingthem the faults in what they have already done. 

Thus, without pointing out the errors and faults which he observes, theteacher may only refer to and commend what is right, while he at the sametime observes and remembers the prevailing faults, with a view of adaptinghis future instructions to the removal of them. These instructions, whengiven, will take the form, of course, of general information on the art ofexpressing one's thoughts in writing, and on the faults and errors to beavoided, perhaps without any, or, at least, very little allusion to thosewhich the pupils themselves had committed. Instruction thus given, while itwill have at least an equal tendency with the other mode to form the pupilsto habits of correctness and accuracy, will not have the effect upon theirmind of disparagement of what they have already done, but rather of aid andencouragement for them in regard to what they are next to do. In followingthe instructions thus given them, the pupils will, as it were, leave thefaults previously committed behind them, being even, in many instances, unconscious, perhaps, of their having themselves ever committed them. 

The ingenious mother will find various modes analogous to this, of leadingher children forward into what is right, without at all disturbing theirminds by censure of what is wrong--a course which it is perfectly safe topursue in the case of all errors and faults which result from inadvertenceor immaturity. There is, doubtless, another class of faults--those ofwillful carelessness or neglect--which must be specially pointed out to theattention of the delinquents, and a degree of discredit attached to thecommission of them, and perhaps, in special cases, some kind of punishmentimposed, as the most proper corrective of the evil. And yet, even in casesof carelessness and neglect of duty, it will generally be found muchmore easy to awaken ambition, and a desire to improve, in a child, bydiscovering, if possible, something good in his work, and commending that, as an encouragement to him to make greater exertion the next time, thanto attempt to cure him of his negligence by calling his attention to thefaults which he has committed, as subjects of censure, however obvious thefaults may be, and however deserving of blame. 

The advice, however, made in this chapter, to employ commendation andencouragement to a great extent, rather than criticism and fault-finding, in the management and instruction of children, must, like all other generalcounsels of the kind, be held subject to all proper limitations andrestrictions. Some mother may, perhaps, object to what is here advanced, saying, "If I am always indiscriminately praising my child's doings, hewill become self-conceited and vain, and he will cease to make progress, being satisfied with what he has already attained. " Of course he will, andtherefore you must take care not to be always and indiscriminately praisinghim. You must exercise tact and good judgment, or at any rate, commonsense, in properly proportioning your criticism and your praise. Thereare no principles of management, however sound, which may not beso exaggerated, or followed with so blind a disregard of attendantcircumstances, as to produce more harm than good. 

It must be especially borne in mind that the counsels here given inrelation to curing the faults of children by dealing more with what is goodin them than what is bad, are intended to apply to faults of ignorance, inadvertence, or habit only, and not to acts of known and willful wrong. When we come to cases of deliberate and intentional disobedience toa parent's commands, or open resistance to his authority, somethingdifferent, or at least something more, is required. 

_The Principle of Universal Application. _

In conclusion, it is proper to add that the principle of influencing humancharacter and action by noticing and commending what is right, rather thanfinding fault with what is wrong, is of universal application, with themature as well as with the young. The susceptibility to this influence isin full operation in the minds of all men everywhere, and acting upon itwill lead to the same results in all the relations of society. The wayto awaken a penurious man to the performance of generous deeds is notby remonstrating with him, however kindly, on his penuriousness, but bywatching his conduct till we find some act that bears some semblance ofliberality, and commending him for that. If you have a neighbor who issurly and troublesome--tell him that he is so, and you make him worsethan ever. But watch for some occasion in which he shows you some littlekindness, and thank him cordially for such a good neighborly act, and hewill feel a strong desire to repeat it. If mankind universally understoodthis principle, and would generally act upon it in their dealings withothers--of course, with such limitations and restrictions as good senseand sound judgment would impose--the world would not only go on much moresmoothly and harmoniously than it does now, but the progress of improvementwould, I think, in all respects be infinitely more rapid. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

FAULTS OF IMMATURITY. 

A great portion of the errors and mistakes, and of what we call thefollies, of children arise from simple ignorance. Principles of philosophy, whether pertaining to external nature or to mental action, are involvedwhich have never come home to their minds. They may have been presented, but they have not been understood and appreciated. It requires some tact, and sometimes delicate observation, on the part of the mother to determinewhether a mode of action which she sees ought to be corrected results fromchildish ignorance and inexperience, or from willful wrong-doing. Whatevermay be the proper treatment in the latter case, it is evident that in theformer what is required is not censure, but instruction. 

_Boasting_. 

A mother came into the room one day and found Johnny disputing earnestlywith his Cousin Jane on the question which was the tallest--Johnny verystrenuously maintaining that he was the tallest, _because he was a boy_. His older brother, James, who was present at the time, measured them, andfound that Johnny in reality was the tallest. 

Now there was nothing wrong in his feeling a pride and pleasure in thethought that he was physically superior to his cousin, and though it wasfoolish for him to insist himself on this superiority in a boasting way, it was the foolishness of ignorance only. He had not learned theprinciple--which half mankind do not seem ever to learn during the wholecourse of their lives--that it is far wiser and better to let our goodqualities appear naturally of themselves, than to claim credit for thembeforehand by boasting. It would have been much wiser for Johnny to haveadmitted at the outset that Jane might possibly be taller than he, and thento have awaited quietly the result of the measuring. 

But we can not blame him much for not having learned this particular wisdomat five years of age, when so many full-grown men and women never learn itat all. 

Nor was there any thing blameworthy in him in respect to the false logicinvolved in his argument, that his being a boy made him necessarily tallerthan his cousin, a girl of the same age. There was a _semblance_ of proofin that fact--what the logicians term a presumption. But the reasoningpowers are very slowly developed in childhood. They are very seldom aidedby any instruction really adapted to the improvement of them; and we oughtnot to expect that such children can at all clearly distinguish a semblancefrom a reality in ideas so extremely abstruse as those relating to thelogical connection between the premises and the conclusion in a process ofratiocination. 

In this case as in the other we expect them to understand at once, withoutinstruction, what we find it extremely difficult to learn ourselves; fora large portion of mankind prove themselves utterly unable ever todiscriminate between sound arguments and those which are utterlyinconsequent and absurd. 

In a word, what Johnny requires in such a case as this is, not ridicule toshame him out of his false reasoning, nor censure or punishment to cure himof his boasting, but simply instruction. 

And this instruction it is much better to give _not_ in direct connectionwith the occurrence which indicated the want of it. If you attempt toexplain to your boy the folly of boasting in immediate connection with someact of boasting of his own, he feels that you are really finding fault withhim; his mind instinctively puts itself into a position of defense, and thetruth which you wish to impart to it finds a much less easy admission. 

If, for example, in this case Johnny's mother attempts on the spot toexplain to him the folly of boasting, and to show how much wiser it is forus to let our good qualities, if we have any, speak for themselves, withoutany direct agency of ours in claiming the merit of them, he listensreluctantly and nervously as to a scolding in disguise. If he is a boy wellmanaged, he waits, perhaps, to hear what his mother has to say, but itmakes no impression. If he is badly trained, he will probably interrupt hismother in the midst of what she is saying, or break away from her to go onwith his play. 

_A right Mode of Treatment. _

If now, instead of this, the mother waits until the dispute and thetransaction of measuring have passed by and been forgotten, and then takessome favorable opportunity to give the required _instruction_, the resultwill be far more favorable. At some time, when tired of his play, he comesto stand by her to observe her at her work, or perhaps to ask her for astory; or, after she has put him to bed and is about to leave him for thenight, she says to him as follows:

"I'll tell you a story about two boys, Jack and Henry, and you shall tellme which of them came off best. They both went to the same school and werein the same class, and there was nobody else in the class but those two. Henry, who was the most diligent scholar, was at the head of the class, andJack was below him, and, of course, as there were only two, he was at thefoot. 

"One day there was company at the house, and one of the ladies asked theboys how they got along at school. Jack immediately said, 'Very well. I'mnext to the head of my class. ' The lady then praised him, and said thathe must be a very good scholar to be so high in his class. Then she askedHenry how high he was in his class. He said he was next to the foot. 

"The lady was somewhat surprised, for she, as well as the others present, supposed that Henry was the best scholar; they were all a little puzzledtoo, for Henry looked a little roguish and sly when he said it. But justthen the teacher came in, and she explained the case; for she said that theboys were in the same class, and they were all that were in it; so thatHenry, who was really at the head, was next but one to the foot, whileJack, who was at the foot, was next but one to the head. On having thisexplanation made to the company, Jack felt very much confused and ashamed, while Henry, though he said nothing, could not help feeling pleased. 

"And now, " asks the mother, in conclusion, "which of these boys do youthink came off the best?"

Johnny answers that Henry came out best. 

"Yes, " adds his mother, "and it is always better that people's merits, ifthey have any, should come out in other ways than by their own boasting ofthem. "

It is true that this case of Henry and Jack does not correspondexactly--not even nearly, in fact--with that of Johnny and his cousin. Noris it necessary that the instruction given in these ways should logicallyconform to the incident which calls them forth. It is sufficient that thereshould be such a degree of analogy between them, that the interest and turnof thought produced by the incident may prepare the mind for appreciatingand receiving the lesson. But the mother may bring the lesson nearer if shepleases. 

"I will tell you another story, " she says. "There were two men at a fair. Their names were Thomas and Philip. 

"Thomas was boasting of his strength. He said he was a great deal strongerthan Philip. 'Perhaps you are, ' said Philip. Then Thomas pointed to a bigstone which was lying upon the ground, and dared Philip to try which couldthrow it the farthest. 'Very well, ' said Philip, 'I will try, but I thinkit very likely you will beat me, for I know you are very strong. ' So theytried, and it proved that Philip could throw it a great deal farther thanThomas could. Then Thomas went away looking very much incensed and verymuch ashamed, while Philip's triumph was altogether greater for his nothaving boasted. "

"Yes, " says Johnny, "I think so. "

The mother may, if she pleases, come still nearer than this, if she wishesto suit Johnny's individual case, without exciting any resistance in hisheart to the reception of her lesson. She may bring his exact case intoconsideration, provided she changes the names of the actors, so thatJohnny's mind may be relieved from the uneasy sensitiveness which it is sonatural for a child to feel when his own conduct is directly the objectof unfavorable comment. It is surprising how slight a change in the mereoutward incidents of an affair will suffice to divert the thoughts of thechild from himself in such a case, and enable him to look at the lesson tobe imparted without personal feeling, and so to receive it more readily. 

Johnny's mother may say, "There might be a story in a book about two boysthat were disputing a little about which was the tallest. What do you thinkwould be good names for the boys, if you were making up such a story?"

When Johnny has proposed the names, his mother could go on and give analmost exact narrative of what took place between Johnny and his cousin, offering just such instructions and such advice as she would like to offer;and she will find, if she manages the conversation with ordinary tact anddiscretion, that the lessons which she desires to impart will find a readyadmission to the mind of her child, simply from the fact that, by divestingthem of all direct personal application, she has eliminated from them theelement of covert censure which they would otherwise have contained. Veryslight disguises will, in all such cases, be found to be sufficient to veilthe personal applicability of the instruction, so far as to divest it ofall that is painful or disagreeable to the child. He may have a vaguefeeling that you mean him, but the feeling will not produce any effect ofirritation or repellency. 

Now, the object of these illustrations is to show that those errors andfaults which, when we look at their real and intrinsic character, we see tobe results of ignorance and inexperience, and not instances of willfuland intentional wrong-doing, are not to be dealt with harshly, and madeoccasions of censure and punishment. The child does not deserve censureor punishment in such cases; what he requires is instruction. It is thebringing in of light to illuminate the path that is before him which he hasyet to tread, and not the infliction of pain, to impress upon him the evilof the missteps he made, in consequence of the obscurity, in the pathbehind him. 

Indeed, in such cases as this, it is the influence of pleasure rather thanpain that the parent will find the most efficient means of aiding him; thatis, in these cases, the more pleasant and agreeable the modes by which hecan impart the needed knowledge to the child--in other words, the moreattractive he can make the paths by which he can lead his little chargeonward in its progress towards maturity--the more successful he will be. 

_Ignorance of Material Properties and Laws. _

In the example already given, the mental immaturity consisted in imperfectacquaintance with the qualities and the action of the mind, and theprinciples of sound reasoning; but a far larger portion of the mistakesand failures into which children fall, and for which they incur undeservedcensure, are due to their ignorance of the laws of external nature, and ofthe properties and qualities of material objects. 

A boy, for example, seven or eight years old, receives from his father apresent of a knife, with a special injunction to be careful of it. Heis, accordingly, very careful of it in respect to such dangers as heunderstands, but in attempting to bore a hole with it in a piece of wood, out of which he is trying to make a windmill, he breaks the small blade. The accident, in such a case, is not to be attributed to any censurablecarelessness, but to want of instruction in respect to the strength of sucha material as steel, and the nature and effects of the degree of temperinggiven to knife-blades. The boy had seen his father bore holes with agimlet, and the knife-blade was larger--in one direction at least, that is, in breadth--than the gimlet, and it was very natural for him to supposethat it was stronger. What a boy needs in such a case, therefore, is not ascolding, or punishment, but simply information. 

A girl of about the same age--a farmer's daughter, we will suppose--underthe influence of a dutiful desire to aid her mother in preparing the tablefor breakfast, attempts to carry across the room a pitcher of milk which istoo full, and she spills a portion of it upon the floor. 

_The Intention good_. 

[Illustration: THE INTENTION GOOD. ]

The mother, forgetting the good intention which prompted the act, andthinking only of the inconvenience which it occasions her, administers atonce a sharp rebuke. The cause of the trouble was, simply, that the childwas not old enough to understand the laws of momentum and of oscillationthat affect the condition of a fluid when subjected to movements more orless irregular. She has had no theoretical instruction on the subject, and is too young to have acquired the necessary knowledge practically, byexperience or observation. 

It is so with a very large portion of the accidents which befall children. They arise not from any evil design, nor even any thing that can properlybe called carelessness, on their part, but simply from the immaturity oftheir knowledge in respect to the properties and qualities of the materialobjects with which they have to deal. 

It is true that children may be, and often, doubtless, are, in fault forthese accidents. The boy may have been warned by his father not to attemptto bore with his knife-blade, or the girl forbidden to attempt to carry themilk-pitcher. The fault, however, would be, even in these cases, in thedisobedience, and not in the damage that accidentally resulted from it. Andit would be far more reasonable and proper to reprove and punish the faultwhen no evil followed than when a damage was the result; for in thelatter case the damage itself acts, ordinarily, as a more than sufficientpunishment. 

_Misfortunes befalling Men_. 

These cases are exactly analogous to a large class of accidents andcalamities that happen among men. A ship-master sails from port at a timewhen there are causes existing in the condition of the atmosphere, and inthe agencies in readiness to act upon it, that must certainly, in a fewhours, result in a violent storm. He is consequently caught in the gale, and his topmasts and upper rigging are carried away. The owners do notcensure him for the loss which they incur, if they are only assured thatthe meteorological knowledge at the captain's command at the time ofleaving port was not such as to give him warning of the danger; andprovided, also, that his knowledge was as advanced as could reasonably beexpected from the opportunities which he had enjoyed. But we are very muchinclined to hold children responsible for as much knowledge of the sourcesof danger around them as we ourselves, with all our experience, have beenable to acquire, and are accustomed to condemn and sometimes even to punishthem, for want of this knowledge. 

Indeed, in many cases, both with children and with men, the means ofknowledge in respect to the danger may be fully within reach, and yetthe situation may be so novel, and the combination of circumstances sopeculiar, that the connection between the causes and the possible evileffects does not occur to the minds of the persons engaged. An accidentwhich has just occurred at the time of this present writing will illustratethis. A company of workmen constructing a tunnel for a railway, when theyhad reached the distance of some miles from the entrance, prepared a numberof charges for blasting the rock, and accidentally laid the wires connectedwith the powder in too close proximity to the temporary railway-trackalready laid in the tunnel. The charges were intended to be fired from anelectric battery provided for the purpose; but a thunder-cloud came up, andthe electric force from it was conveyed by the rails into the tunnel andexploded the charges, and several men were killed. No one was inclined tocensure the unfortunate men for carelessness in not guarding against acontingency so utterly unforeseen by them, though it is plain that, asis often said to children in precisely analogous cases, they _might haveknown_. 

_Children's Studies_. --_Spelling_. 

There is, perhaps, no department of the management of children in whichthey incur more undeserved censure, and even punishment, and are treatedwith so little consideration for faults arising solely from the immaturityof their minds, than in the direction of what may be called school studies. Few people have any proper appreciation of the enormous difficulties whicha child has to encounter in learning to read and spell. How many parentsbecome discouraged, and manifest their discouragement and dissatisfactionto the child in reproving and complaints, at what they consider his slowprogress in learning to spell--forgetting that in the English languagethere are in common, every-day use eight or ten thousand words, almost allof which are to be learned separately, by a bare and cheerless toil ofcommitting to memory, with comparatively little definite help from thesound. We have ourselves become so accustomed to seeing the word _bear_, for example, when denoting the animal, spelt _b e a r_, that we are veryprone to imagine that there is something naturally appropriate in thoseletters and in that collocation of them, to represent that sound when usedto denote that idea. But what is there in the nature and power ofthe letters to aid the child in perceiving--or, when told, inremembering--whether, when referring to the animal, he is to write _bear_, or _bare_, or _bair_, or _bayr_, or _bere_, as in _where_. So with the word_you. _ It seems to us the most natural thing in the world to spell it _yo u_. And when the little pupil, judging by the sound, writes it _y u_, wemortify him by our ridicule, as if he had done something in itself absurd. But how is he to know, except by the hardest, most meaningless, anddistasteful toil of the memory, whether he is to write _you_, or _yu_, or_yoo, _ or _ewe_, or _yew_, or _yue_, as in _flue_, or even _yo_ as in_do_, and to determine when and in what cases respectively he is to usethose different forms?

The truth is, that each elementary sound that enters into the compositionof words is represented in our language by so many different combinationsof letters, in different cases, that the child has very little clue fromthe sound of a syllable to guide him in the spelling of it. We ourselves, from long habit, have become so accustomed to what we call the rightspelling--which, of course, means nothing more than the customary one--thatwe are apt to imagine, as has already been said, that there is some naturalfitness in it; and a mode of representing the same sound, which in one caseseems natural and proper, in another appears ludicrous and absurd. We smileto see _laugh_ spelled _larf, _ just as we should to see _scarf_ spelled_scaugh_, or _scalf_, as in _half_; and we forget that this perception ofapparent incongruity is entirely the result of long habit in us, and has nonatural foundation, and that children can not be sensible of it, or haveany idea of it whatever. They learn, in learning to talk, what sound servesas the name by which the drops of water that they find upon the grass inthe morning is denoted, but they can have no clue whatever to guide themin determining which of the various modes by which precisely that sound isrepresented in different words, as _dew, do, due, du, doo_, and _dou_, is to be employed in this case, and they become involved in hopelessperplexity if they attempt to imagine "_how it ought to be spelled_;" andwe think them stupid because they can not extricate themselves from thedifficulty on our calling upon them to "think!" No doubt there is areason for the particular mode of spelling each particular word in thelanguage--but that reason is hidden in the past history of the word and infacts connected with its origin and derivation from some barbarous or deadlanguage, and is as utterly beyond the reach of each generation of spellersas if there were no such reasons in existence. There can not be theslightest help in any way from the exercise of the thinking or thereasoning powers. 

It is true that the variety of the modes by which a given sound may berepresented is not so great in all words as it is in these examples, thoughwith respect to a vast number of the words in common use the above arefair specimens. They were not specially selected, but were taken almost atrandom. And there are very few words in the language the sound of whichmight not be represented by several different modes. 

Take, for example, the three last words of the last sentence, which, as thewords were written without any thought of using them for this purpose, may be considered, perhaps, as a fair specimen of words taken actuallyat random. The sound of the word _several_ might be expressed in perfectaccordance with the usage of English spelling, as _ceveral, severul, sevaral, cevural_, and in many other different modes. The combinations_dipherant, diferunt, dyfferent, diffurunt_, and many others, would aswell represent the sound of the second word as the usual mode. And so with_modes_, which, according to the analogy of the language, might as wellbe expressed by _moads, mowdes, moades, mohdes_, or even _mhodes_, as in_Rhodes_. 

An exceptionally precise speaker might doubtless make some slightdifference in the sounds indicated by the different modes of representingthe same syllable as given above; but to the ordinary appreciation ofchildhood the distinction in sound between such combinations, forexample, as _a n t_ in _constant_ and _e n t_ in _different_ would not beperceptible. 

Now, when we consider the obvious fact that the child has to learnmechanically, without any principles whatever to guide him in discoveringwhich, out of the many different forms, equally probable, judging simplyfrom analogy, by which the sound of the word is to be expressed, is theright one; and considering how small a portion of his time each day is orcan be devoted to this work, and that the number of words in common use, all of which he is expected to know how to spell correctly by the time thathe is twelve or fifteen years of age, is probably ten or twelve thousand(there are in Webster's dictionary considerably over a hundred thousand);when we take these considerations into account, it would seem that aparent, on finding that a letter written by his daughter, twelve orfourteen years of age, has all but three or four words spelled right, ought to be pleased and satisfied, and to express his satisfaction for theencouragement of the learner, instead of appearing to think only of thefew words that are wrong, and disheartening and discouraging the child byattempts to make her ashamed of her spelling. 

The case is substantially the same with the enormous difficulties to beencountered in learning to read and to write. The names of the letters, asthe child pronounces them individually, give very little clue to the soundthat is to be given to the word formed by them. Thus, the letters _h it_, as the child pronounces them individually--_aitch, eye, tee_--wouldnaturally spell to him some such word as _achite_, not _hit_ at all. And asfor the labor and difficulty of writing, a mother who is impatient at theslow progress of her children in the attainment of the art would beaided very much in obtaining a just idea of the difficulties which theyexperience by sitting upon a chair and at a table both much too high forher, and trying to copy Chinese characters by means of a hair-pencil, andwith her left hand--the work to be closely inspected every day by a sternChinaman of whom she stands in awe, and all the minutest deviations fromthe copy pointed out to her attention with an air of dissatisfaction andreproval!

_Effect of Ridicule_. 

There is, perhaps, no one cause which exerts a greater influence inchilling the interest that children naturally feel in the acquisition ofknowledge, than the depression and discouragement which result from havingtheir mistakes and errors--for a large portion of which they are in nosense to blame--made subjects of censure or ridicule. The effect is stillmore decided in the case of girls than in that of boys, the gentler sexbeing naturally so much more sensitive. I have found in many cases, especially in respect to girls who are far enough advanced to have had atolerably full experience of the usual influences of schools, that the fearof making mistakes, and of being "thought stupid, " has had more effect inhindering and retarding progress, by repressing the natural ardor of thepupil, and destroying all alacrity and courage in the efforts to advance, than all other causes combined. 

_Stupidity_. 

How ungenerous, and even cruel, it is to reproach or ridicule a child forstupidity, is evident when we reflect that any supposed inferiority inhis mental organization can not, by any possibility, be _his_ fault. Thequestion what degree of natural intelligence he shall be endowed with, incomparison with other children, is determined, not by himself, but by hisCreator, and depends, probably, upon conditions of organization in hiscerebral system as much beyond his control as any thing abnormal in thefeatures of his face, or blindness, or deafness, or any other physicaldisadvantage. The child who shows any indications of inferiority to othersin any of these respects should be the object of his parent's or histeacher's special tenderness and care. If he is near-sighted, give him, atschool, a seat as convenient as possible to the blackboard or the map. If he is hard of hearing, place him near the teacher; and for reasonsprecisely analogous, if you suspect him to be of inferior capacity, helphim gently and tenderly in every possible way. Do every thing in your powerto encourage him, and to conceal his deficiencies both from others and fromhimself, so far as these objects can be attained consistently with thegeneral good of the family or of the school. 

And, at all events, let those who have in any way the charge of childrenkeep the distinction well defined in their minds between the faults whichresult from evil intentions, or deliberate and willful neglect of knownduty, and those which, whatever the inconvenience they may occasion, are inpart or in whole the results of mental or physical immaturity. In all ourdealings, whether with plants, or animals, or with the human soul, weought, in our training, to act very gently in respect to all that pertainsto the embryo condition. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE ACTIVITY OF CHILDREN. 

In order rightly to understand the true nature of that extraordinaryactivity which is so noticeable in all children that are in a state ofhealth, so as to be able to deal with it on the right principles and in aproper manner, it is necessary to turn our attention somewhat carefully tocertain scientific truths in respect to the nature and action of force ingeneral which are now abundantly established, and which throw greatlight on the true character of that peculiar form of it which is socharacteristic of childhood, and is, indeed, so abundantly developed bythe vital functions of almost all young animals. One of the fundamentalprinciples of this system of scientific truth is that which is called thepersistence of force. 

_The Persistence of Force_. 

By the persistence of force is meant the principle--one now establishedwith so much certainty as to command the assent of every thinking man whoexamines the subject--that in the ordinary course of nature no force iseither ever originated or ever destroyed, but only changed in form. In other words, that all existing forces are but the continuation orprolongation of other forces preceding them, either of the same or otherforms, but precisely equivalent in amount; and that no force can terminateits action in any other way than by being transmuted into some other force, either of the same or of some other form; but still, again, preciselyequivalent in amount. 

It was formerly believed that a force might under certain circumstancesbe _originated_--created, as it were--and hence the attempts to contrivemachines for perpetual motion--that is, machines for the _production_of force. This idea is now wholly renounced by all well-informed men asutterly impossible in the nature of things. All that human mechanism can dois to provide modes for using advantageously a force previously existing, without the possibility of either increasing or diminishing it. No existingforce can be destroyed. The only changes possible are changes of direction, changes in the relation of intensity to quantity, and changes of form. 

The cases in which a force is apparently increased or diminished, as wellas those in which it seems to disappear, are all found, on examination, tobe illusive. For example, the apparent increase of a man's power by the useof a lever is really no increase at all. It is true that, by pressing uponthe outer arm with his own weight, he can cause the much greater weightof the stone to rise; but then it will rise only a very little way incomparison with the distance through which his own weight descends. His ownweight must, in fact, descend through a distance as much greater than thatby which the stone ascends, as the weight of the stone is greater than hisweight. In other words, so far as the balance of the forces is concerned, the whole amount of the _downward motion_ consists of the smaller weightdescending through a greater distance, which will be equal to the wholeamount of that of the larger one ascending through a smaller distance; and, to produce a preponderance, the whole amount of the downward force must besomewhat greater. Thus the lever only _gathers_ or _concentrates_ force, asit were, but does not at all increase it. 

It is so with all the other contrivances for managing force for theaccomplishment of particular purposes. None of them, increase the force, but only alter its form and character, with a view to its better adaptationto the purpose in view. 

Nor can any force be extinguished. When a bullet strikes against a solidwall, the force of its movement, which seems to disappear, is not lost; itis converted into heat--the temperature of both the bullet and of that partof the wall on which it impinges being raised by the concussion. And it isfound that the amount of the heat which is thus produced is always in exactproportion to the quantity of mechanical motion which is stopped; thisquantity depending on the weight of the bullet, and on the velocity withwhich it was moving. And it has been ascertained, moreover, by the mostcareful, patient, and many times repeated experiments and calculations, that the quantity of this heat is exactly the same with that which, throughthe medium of steam, or by any other mode of applying it, may be made toproduce the same quantity of mechanical motion that was extinguished in thebullet. Thus the force was not destroyed, but only converted into anotherform. 

And if we should follow out the natural effects of this heat into which themotion of the bullet was transferred, we should find it rarefying the airaround the place of concussion, and thus lifting the whole mass of theatmosphere above it, and producing currents of the nature of wind, andthrough these producing other effects, thus going on forever; the forcechanging its form, but neither increasing or diminishing its quantitythrough a series of changes without end. 

_The Arrest and temporary Reservation of Force_. 

Now, although it is thus impossible that any force should be destroyed, orin any way cease to exist in one form without setting in action a preciselyequal amount in some other form, it may, as it were, pass into a conditionof _restraint_, and remain thus suspended and latent for an indefiniteperiod--ready, however, to break into action again the moment that therestraint is removed. Thus a perfectly elastic spring may be bent by acertain force, and retained in the bent position a long time. But themoment that it is released it will unbend itself, exercising in so doingprecisely the degree of force expended in bending it. In the same mannerair may be compressed in an air-gun, and held thus, with the force, as itwere, imprisoned, for any length of time, until at last, when the detent isreleased by the trigger, the elastic force comes into action, exercising inits action a power precisely the same as that with which it was compressed. 

Force or power may be thus, as it were, stored up in a countless variety ofways, and reserved for future action; and, when finally released, the wholeamount may be set free at once, so as to expend itself in a single impulse, as in case of the arrow or the bullet; or it may be partially restrained, so as to expend itself gradually, as in the case of a clock or watch. Ineither case the total amount expended will be precisely the same--namely, the exact equivalent of that which was placed in store. 

_Vegetable and Animal Life_. 

There are a vast number of mechanical contrivances in use among men forthus putting force in store, as it were, and then using it more or lessgradually, as may be required. And nature, moreover, does this on a scaleso stupendous as to render all human contrivances for this purpose utterlyinsignificant in comparison. The great agent which nature employs in thiswork is vegetation. Indeed, it may truly be said that the great functionof vegetable life, in all the infinitude of forms and characters which itassumes, is to _receive and store up force_ derived from the emanations ofthe sun. 

Animal life, on the other hand, exists and fulfills its functions bythe _expenditure_ of this force. Animals receive vegetable productionscontaining these reserves of force into their systems, which systemscontain arrangements for liberating the force, and employing it for thepurposes it is intended to subserve in the animal economy. 

The manner in which these processes are performed is in general terms asfollows: The vegetable absorbs from the earth and from the air substancesexisting in their natural condition--that is, united according to theirstrongest affinities. These substances are chiefly water, containingvarious mineral salts in solution, from the ground, and carbonic acid fromthe air. These substances, after undergoing certain changes in the vesselsof the plant, are exposed to the influence of the rays of the sun in theleaves. By the power of these rays--including the calorific, the luminous, and the actinic--the natural affinities by which the above-mentionedsubstances were united are overcome, and they are formed into newcombinations, in which they are united by very weak affinities. Of course, they have a strong tendency to break away from the new unions, and fallback into the old. But, by some mysterious and incomprehensible means, the sun has power to lock them, so to speak, in their new forms, so as torequire a special condition of things for the releasing of them. Thusthey form a reserve of force, which can be held in restraint until theconditions required for their release are realized. 

The process can be illustrated more particularly by a single case. Water, one of the substances absorbed by plants, is composed of oxygen andhydrogen, which are united by an affinity of prodigious force. It is thesame with carbon and oxygen, in a compound called carbonic acid, which isalso one of the principal substances absorbed by plants from the air. Nowthe heat and other emanations from the sun, acting upon these substances inthe leaves, forces the hydrogen and the carbon away from their strong bondof union with oxygen, and sets the oxygen free, and then combines thecarbon and hydrogen into a sort of unwilling union with each other--a unionfrom which they are always ready and eager to break away, that they mayreturn to their union with the object of their former and much strongerattachment--namely, oxygen; though they are so locked, by some mysteriousmeans, that they can not break away except when certain conditionsnecessary to their release are realized. 

_Hydrocarbons_. 

The substances thus formed by a weak union of carbon with hydrogen arecalled hydrocarbons. They comprise nearly all the highly inflammablevegetable substances. Their being combustible means simply that they havea great disposition to resume their union with oxygen--combustion beingnothing other than a more or less violent return of a substance to a unionwith oxygen or some other such substance, usually one from which it hadformerly been separated by force--giving out again by its return, in theform of heat, the force by which the original separation had been effected. 

A compound formed thus of substances united by very weak affinities, sothat they are always ready to separate from each other and form new unionsunder the influence of stronger affinities, is said to be in a state of_unstable equilibrium. _ It is the function of vegetable life to createthese unstable combinations by means of the force derived from the sun; andthe combinations, when formed, of course hold the force which formed themin reserve, ready to make itself manifest whenever it is released. Animalsreceive these substances into their systems in their food. A portion ofthem they retain, re-arranging the components in some cases so as to formnew compounds, but still unstable. These they use in constructing thetissues of the animal system, and some they reserve for future use. Asfast as they require the heat and the force which are stored in them theyexpend, them, thus recovering the force which was absorbed in the formationof them, and which now, on being released, re-appears in the three forms of_animal heat, muscular motion_, and _cerebral_ or _nervous energy_. 

There are other modes besides the processes of animal life by which thereserved force laid up by the vegetable process in these unstable compoundsmay be released. In many cases it releases itself under ordinary exposuresto the oxygen of the atmosphere. A log of wood--which is composed chieflyof carbon and hydrogen in an unstable union--lying upon the ground willgradually _decay_, as we term it--that is, its elements will separate fromeach other, and form new unions with the elements of the surrounding air, thus returning to their normal condition. They give out, in so doing, a lowdegree of heat, which, being protracted through a course of years, makesup, in the end, the precise equivalent of that expended by the sun informing the wood--that is, the power expended in the formation of the woodis all released in the dissolution of it. 

This process may be greatly accelerated by heat. If a portion of the woodis raised in temperature to a certain point, the elements begin to combinewith the oxygen near, with so much violence as to release the reservedpower with great rapidity. And as this force re-appears in the form ofheat, the next portions of the wood are at once raised to the righttemperature to allow the process of reoxidation to go on rapidly with them. This is the process of combustion. Observations and experiments on decayingwood have been made, showing that the amount of heat developed by thecombustion of a mass of wood, though much more intense for a time, isthe same in _amount_ as that which is set free by the slower process ofre-oxidation by gradual decay; both being the equivalent of the amountabsorbed by the leaves from the sun, in the process of deoxidizing thecarbon and hydrogen when the wood was formed. 

The force imprisoned in these unstable compounds may be held in reserve foran unlimited period, so long as all opportunity is denied them of returningthe elements that compose them to their original combinations. Such a caseoccurs when large beds of vegetable substances are buried under layersof sediment which subsequently become stone, and thus shut thehydrocarbonaceous compounds beneath them from all access to oxygen. Thebeds of coal thus formed retain their reserved force for periods of immenseduration; and when at length the material thus protected is brought tothe surface, and made to give up its treasured power, it manifests itsefficiency in driving machinery, propelling trains, heating furnaces, ordiffusing warmth and comfort around the family fireside. In all thesecases the heat and power developed from the coal is heat and power derivedoriginally from the sun, and now set free, after having lain dormantthousands and perhaps millions of years. 

This simple case of the formation of hydrocarbons from the elementsfurnished by carbonic acid and water is only adduced as an illustration ofthe general principle. The modes by which the power of the sun actuallytakes effect in the decomposition of stable compounds, and the formationof unstable ones from the elements thus obtained, are innumerable, andthe processes as well as the combinations that result are extremelycomplicated. These processes include not only the first formation of theunstable compounds in the leaf, but also an endless series of modificationsand re-arrangements which they subsequently undergo, as well in the otherorgans of the plant as in those of the animal when they are finallyintroduced into an animal system. In all, however, the general result issubstantially the same--namely, the forcing of elements into unnaturalcombinations, so to speak, by the power of the sun acting through theinstrumentality of vegetation, in order that they may subsequently, in theanimal system, give out that power again by the effort they make to releasethemselves from the coercion imposed upon them, and to return to thenatural unions in which they can find again stability and repose. 

One of the chief elements employed in the formation of theseweakly-combined substances is _nitrogen_--its compounds being designated asnitrogenous substances, and noted, as a class, for the facility with whichthey are decomposed. Nitrogen is, in fact, the great _weak-holder_ ofnature. Young students in chemistry, when they learn that nitrogen isdistinguished by the weakness of its affinities for other elements, and itsconsequent great _inertness_ as a chemical agent, are often astonishedto find that its compounds--such as nitric acid, nitre, which gives itsexplosive character to gunpowder, nitro-glycerine, gun-cotton, and variousother explosive substances which it helps to form--are among the mostremarkable in nature for the violence and intensity of their action, andfor the extent to which the principle of vitality avails itself of them asmagazines of _force_, upon which to draw in the fulfillment of its variousfunctions. 

186 _GENTLE MEASURES_. 

But this is really just what should be expected. It is the very _weaknessof the hold_ which nitrogen maintains upon the elements combined with itthat facilitates their release, and affords them the opportunity to seizewith so much avidity and violence on those for which they have a strongattraction. 

It is as if a huntsman should conduct a pack of ferocious dogs into a fieldoccupied by a flock of sheep, quietly grazing, holding the dogs securelyby very strong leashes. The quiet and repose of the field might not beseriously disturbed; but if, on the other hand, a child comes in, leadingthe dogs by threads which they can easily sunder, a scene of the greatestviolence and confusion would ensue. 

In the same manner, when nitrogen, holding the particles of oxygen withwhich it is combined in the compounds above named by a very feeble control, brings them into the presence of other substances for which they have avery strong affinity, they release themselves at once from their weakcustodian, and rush into the combinations which their nature demands withso much avidity as to produce combustions, deflagrations, and explosions ofthe most violent character. 

The force which the elements display in these reunions is always--and thisis one aspect of the great discovery of modern times in respect to the_persistence_ or _constancy_ of force which has already been referredto--precisely the same in amount as that which was required for disseveringthem from their original combinations with such substances at some previoustime. The _processes of vegetation_ are the chief means employed foreffecting the original separations, by the power of the sun, and forforming the unstable compounds by which this power is held in reserve. The_animal system_, on the other hand, takes in these compounds, remodels themso far as is required to adapt them to its structure, assimilates them, andthen, as occasion requires quires, it releases the concealed force, whichthen manifests itself in the forms of _animal heat_, of _muscular motion_, and of _cerebral and nervous power_. 

In what way, and to what extent, the knowledge of these truths shouldinfluence us in the management and training of children in respect to theirextraordinary activity, is the question we have next to consider. 

_Practical Applications of these Principles_. 

If we watch a bird for a little while hopping along upon the ground, and upand down between the ground and the branches of a tree, we shall at firstbe surprised at his incessant activity, and next, if we reflect a little, at the utter aimlessness and uselessness of it. He runs a little way alongthe path; then he hops up upon a twig, then down again upon the ground;then "makes believe" peck at something which he imagines or pretends thathe sees in the grass; then, canting his head to one side and upward, thebranch of a tree there happens to strike his eye, upon which he at onceflies up to it. Perching himself upon it for the moment, he utters a burstof joyous song, and then, instantly afterwards, down he comes upon theground again, runs along, stops, runs along a little farther, stops again, looks around him a moment, as if wondering what to do next, and then fliesoff out of our field of view. If we could follow, and had patience to watchhim so long, we should find him continuing this incessantly changing butnever-ceasing activity all the day long. 

We sometimes imagine that the bird's movements are to be explained bysupposing that he is engaged in the search for food in these evolutions. But when we reflect how small a quantity of food his little crop willcontain, we shall be at once convinced that a large proportion of hisapparent pecking for food is only make-believe, and that he moves thusincessantly not so much on account of the end he seeks to attain by it, ason account of the very pleasure of the motion. He hops about and pecks, not for the love of any thing he expects to find, but just for the love ofhopping and pecking. 

The real explanation is that the food which he has taken is delivering up, within his system, the force stored in it that was received originally fromthe beams of the sun, while the plant which produced it was growing. Thisforce must have an outlet, and it finds this outlet in the incessantactivity of the bird's muscles and brain. The various objects which attracthis attention without, _invite_ the force to expend itself in _certainspecial directions_; but the impelling cause is within, and not without;and were there nothing without to serve as objects for its action, thenecessity of its action would be none the less imperious. The lion, whenimprisoned in his cage, walks to and fro continuously, if there is room forhim to take two steps and turn; and if there is not room for this, he moveshis head incessantly from side to side. The force within him, which hisvital organs are setting at liberty from its imprisonment in his food, mustin some way find issue. 

Mothers do not often stop to speculate upon, and may even, perhaps, seldomobserve the restless and incessant activity of birds, but that of theirchildren forces itself upon their attention by its effects in disturbingtheir own quiet avocations and pleasures; and they often wonder what can bethe inducement which leads to such a perpetual succession of movementsmade apparently without motive or end. And, not perceiving any possibleinducement to account for it, they are apt to consider this restlessactivity so causeless and unreasonable as to make it a fault for which thechild is to be censured or punished, or which they are to attempt to cureby means of artificial restraints. They would not attempt such repressionsas this if they were aware that all this muscular and mental energy ofaction in the child is only the outward manifestation of an inward forcedeveloped in a manner wholly independent of its will--a force, too, whichmust spend itself in some way or other, and that, if not allowed to do thisin its own way, by impelling the limbs and members to outward action, itwill do so by destroying the delicate mechanism within. We see this in thecase of men who are doomed for long periods to solitary confinement. Theforce derived from their food, and released within their systems by thevital processes, being cut off by the silence and solitude of the dungeonfrom all usual and natural outlets, begins to work mischief within, bydisorganizing the cerebral and other vital organs, and producing insanityand death. 

_Common Mistake_. 

We make a great mistake when we imagine that children are influenced intheir activity mainly by a desire for the objects which they attain by it. It is not the ends attained, but the pleasurable feeling which the actionof the internal force, issuing by its natural channels, affords them, andthe sense of power which accompanies the action. An end which presentsitself to be attained invites this force to act in one direction ratherthan another, but it is the action, and not the end, in which the charmresides. 

Give a child a bow and arrow, and send him out into the yard to try it, andif he does not happen to see any thing to shoot at, he will shoot at randominto the air. But if there is any object which will serve as a mark insight, it seems to have the effect of drawing his aim towards it. He shootsat the vane on the barn, at an apple on a tree, a knot in a fence--anything which will serve the purpose of a mark. This is not because he hasany end to accomplish in hitting the vane, the apple, or the knot, but onlybecause there is an impulse within him leading him to shoot, and if therehappens to be any thing to shoot at, it gives that impulse a direction. 

It is precisely the same with the incessant muscular activity of a child. He comes into a room and sits down in the first seat that he sees. Then hejumps up and runs to another, then to another, until he has tried all theseats in the room. This is not because he particularly wishes to try theseats. He wishes to _move_, and the seats happen to be at hand, and theysimply give direction to the impulse. If he were out of doors, the sameoffice would be fulfilled by a fence which he might climb over, instead ofgoing through an open gate close by; or a wall that he could walk upon withdifficulty, instead of going, without difficulty, along a path at the footof it; or a pole which he could try to climb, when there was no motive forclimbing it but a desire to make muscular exertion; or a steep bank wherehe can scramble up, when there is nothing that he wishes for on the top ofit. 

In other words, the things that children do are not done for the sake ofthe things, but for the sake of the _doing_. 

Parents very often do not understand this, and are accordingly continuallyasking such foolish questions as, "George, what do you wish to climb overthat fence for, when there is a gate all open close by?" "James, what gooddo you expect to get by climbing up that tree, when you know there isnothing on it, not even a bird's nest?" and, "Lucy, what makes you keepjumping up all the time and running about to different places? Why can'tyou, when you get a good seat, sit still in it?"

The children, if they understood the philosophy of the case, might answer, "We don't climb over the fence at all because we wish to be on the otherside of it; or scramble up the bank for the sake of any thing that is onthe top of it; or run about to different places because we wish to be inthe places particularly. It is the internal force that is in us workingitself off, and it works itself off in the ways that come most readily tohand. "

_Various Modes in which the Reserved Force reappears_. 

The force thus stored in the food and liberated within the system bythe vital processes, finds scope for action in several different ways, prominent among which are, First, in the production of animal heat;Secondly, in muscular contractions and the motions of the limbs and membersresulting from them; and Thirdly, in mental phenomena connected with theaction of the brain and the nerves. This last branch of the subject is yetenveloped in great mystery; but the proof seems to be decisive that thenervous system of man comprises organs which are actively exercised in theperformance of mental operations, and that in this exercise they consumeimportant portions of the vital force. If, for example, a child is actuallyengaged at play, and we direct him to take a seat and sit still, he willfind it very difficult to do so. The inward force will soon begin tostruggle within him to find an issue. But if, while he is so sitting, webegin to relate to him some very surprising or exciting story, to occupyhis _mind_, he will become motionless, and very likely remain so until thestory is ended. It is supposed that in such cases the force is drawn off, so to speak, through the cerebral organs which it is employed in keeping inplay, as the instruments by which the emotions and ideas which the storyawakens in the mind are evolved. This part of the subject, as has alreadybeen remarked, is full of mystery; but the general fact that a portion ofthe force derived from the food is expended in actions of the brain andnervous system seems well established. 

Indeed, the whole subject of the reception and the storing up of force fromthe sun by the processes of vegetable and animal life, and the subsequentliberation of it in the fulfillment of the various functions of the animalsystem, is full of difficulties and mysteries. It is only a very simpleview of the _general principle_ which is presented in these articles. Innature the operations are not simple at all. They are involved in endlesscomplications which are yet only to a very limited extent unravelled. Thegeneral principle is, however, well established; and if understood, even asa general principle, by parents and teachers, it will greatly modify theiraction in dealing with the incessant restlessness and activity of theyoung. It will teach them, among other things, the following practicalrules:

_Practical Rules_. 

1. Never find fault with children for their incapacity to keep still. Youmay stop the supply of force, if you will, by refusing to give them food;but if you continue the supply, you must not complain of its manifestingitself in action. After giving your boy his breakfast, to find fault withhim for being incessantly in motion when his system has absorbed it, issimply to find fault with him for being healthy and happy. To give childrenfood and then to restrain the resulting activity, is conduct very analogousto that of the engineer who should lock the action of his engine, turn allthe stop-cocks, and shut down the safety-valve, while he still went on allthe time putting in coal under the boiler. The least that he could expectwould be a great hissing and fizzling at all the joints of his machine; andit would be only by means of such a degree of looseness in the joints aswould allow of the escape of the imprisoned force in this way that couldprevent the repression ending in a frightful catastrophe. 

Now, nine-tenths of the whispering and playing of children in school, andof the noise, the rudeness, and the petty mischief of children at home, isjust this hissing and fizzling of an imprisoned power, and nothing more. 

In a word, we must favor and promote, by every means in our power, theactivity of children, not censure and repress it. We may endeavor to turnit aside from wrong channels--that is, to prevent its manifesting itself inways injurious to them or annoying to others. We must not, however, attemptto divert it from these channels by damming it up, but by opening otherchannels that will draw it away in better directions. 

2. In encouraging the activity of children, and in guiding the directionof it in their hours of play, we must not expect to make it available foruseful results, other than that of promoting their own physical developmentand health. At least, we can do this only in a very limited degree. Almostall useful results require for their attainment a long continuance ofefforts of the same kind--that is, expenditure of the vital force by thecontinued action of the same organs. Now, it is a principle of naturethat while the organs of an animal system are in process of formation andgrowth, they can exercise their power only for a very brief period at atime without exhaustion. This necessitates on the part of all young animalsincessant changes of action, or alternations of action and repose. A farmerof forty years of age, whose organs are well developed and mature, willchop wood all day without excessive fatigue. Then, when he comes home atnight, he will sit for three hours in the evening upon the settle by hisfireside, _thinking_--his mind occupied, perhaps, upon the details of themanagement of his farm, or upon his plans for the following day. The vitalforce thus expends itself for many successive hours through his muscles, and then, while his muscles are at rest, it finds its egress for severalother hours through the brain. But in the _child_ the mode of action mustchange every few minutes. He is made tired with five minutes' labor. Heis satisfied with five minutes' rest. He will ride his rocking-horse, ifalone, a short time, and then he comes to you to ask you to tell him astory. While listening to the story, his muscles are resting, and the forceis spending its strength in working the mechanism of the brain. If you makeyour story too long, the brain, in turn, becomes fatigued, and he feelsinstinctively impelled to divert the vital force again into muscularaction. 

If, instead of being alone with his rocking-horse, he has company there, he will _seem_ to continue his bodily effort a long time; but he does notreally do so, for he stops continually, to talk with his companion, thusallowing his muscles to rest for a brief period, during which the vitalforce expends its strength in carrying on trains of thought and emotionthrough the brain. 

He is not to be blamed for this seeming capriciousness. These frequentchanges in the mode of action are a necessity, and this necessity evidentlyunfits him for any kind of monotonous or continued exertion--the only kindwhich, in ordinary cases, can be made conducive to any useful results. 

3. Parents at home and teachers at school must recognize thesephysiological laws, relating to the action of the young, and make theirplans and arrangements conform to them. The periods of confinement to anyone mode of action in the very young, and especially mental action, mustbe short; and they must alternate frequently with other modes. That rapidsuccession of bodily movements and of mental ideas, and the emotionsmingling and alternating with them, which constitutes what children callplay, must be regarded not simply as an indulgence, but as a necessity forthem. The play must be considered as essential as the study, and that notmerely for the very young but for all, up to the age of maturity. For olderpupils, in the best institutions of the country, some suitable provision ismade for this want; but the mothers of young children at home are often ata loss by what means to effect this purpose, and many are very imperfectlyaware of the desirableness, and even the necessity, of doing this. As forthe means of accomplishing the object--that is, providing channels for thecomplete expenditure of this force in the safest and most agreeable mannerfor the child, and the least inconvenient and troublesome for others, muchmust depend upon the tact, the ingenuity, and the discretion of the mother. It will, however, be a great point gained for her when she once fullycomprehends that the _tendency_ to incessant activity, and even toturbulence and noise, on the part of her child, only shows that he isall right in his vital machinery, and that this exuberance of energy issomething to be pleased with and directed, not denounced and restrained. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE IMAGINATION IN CHILDREN. 

The reader may, perhaps, recollect that in the last chapter there wasan intimation that a portion of the force which was produced, or ratherliberated and brought into action, by the consumption of food in the vitalsystem, expended itself in the development of thoughts, emotions, and otherforms of mental action, through the organization of the brain and of thenerves. 

_Expenditure of Force through the Brain. _

The whole subject of the expenditure of material force in maintaining thoseforms of mental action which are carried on through the medium of bodilyorgans, it must be admitted, is involved in great obscurity; for it is onlya glimmering of light which science has yet been able to throw intothis field. It is, however, becoming the settled opinion, among allwell-informed persons, that the soul, during the time of its connectionwith a material system in this life, performs many of those functionswhich we class as mental, through the medium, or instrumentality, in somemysterious way, of material organs, just as we all know is the case withthe sensations--that is, the impressions made through the organs of sense;and that the maintaining of these mental organs, so to speak, in action, involves a certain expenditure of some form of physical force, the sourceof this force being in the food that is consumed in the nourishment of thebody. 

There is certainly no apparent reason why there should be any antecedentpresumption against the supposition that the soul performs the act ofremembering or of conceiving an imaginary scene through the instrumentalityof a bodily organ, more than that it should receive a sensation of light orof sound through such a channel. The question of the independent existenceand the immateriality of the thinking and feeling principle, which takescognizance of these thoughts and sensations, is not at all affected by anyinquiries into the nature of the instrumentality by means of which, in aparticular stage of its existence, it performs these functions. 

_Phenomena explained by this Principle_. 

This truth, if it be indeed a truth, throws great light on what wouldbe otherwise quite inexplicable in the playful activity of themental faculties of children. The curious fantasies, imaginings, andmake-believes--the pleasure of listening to marvellous and impossibletales, and of hearing odd and unpronounceable words or combination of words--the love of acting, and of disguises--of the impersonation of inanimateobjects--of seeing things as they are not, and of creating and givingreality to what has no existence except in their own minds--are all thegambollings and frolics, so to speak, of the embryo faculties just becomingconscious of their existence, and affording, like the muscles of motion, somany different issues for the internal force derived from the food. Thusthe action of the mind of a child, in holding an imaginary conversationwith a doll, or in inventing or in relating an impossible fairy story, orin converting a switch on which he pretends to be riding into a prancinghorse, is precisely analogous to that of the muscles of the lamb, or thecalf, or any other young animal in its gambols--that is, it is the resultof the force which the vital functions are continually developing withinthe system, and which flows and must flow continually out through whateverchannels are open to it; and in thus flowing, sets all the various systemsof machinery into play, each in its own appropriate manner. 

In any other view of the subject than this, many of the phenomena ofchildhood would be still more wonderful and inexplicable than they are. One would have supposed, for example, that the imagination--being, asis commonly thought, one of the most exalted and refined of the mentalfaculties of man--would be one of the latest, in the order of time, tomanifest itself in the development of the mind; instead of which it is, in fact, one of the earliest. Children live, in a great measure, from theearliest age in an ideal world--their pains and their pleasures, their joysand their fears being, to a vast extent, the concomitants of phantasms andillusions having often the slightest bond of connection with the realitiesaround them. The realities themselves, moreover, often have far greaterinfluence over them by what they suggest than by what they are. 

Indeed, the younger the child is, within reasonable limits, the moresusceptible he seems to be to the power of the imagination, and the moreeasily his mind and heart are reached and influenced through this avenue. At a very early period the realities of actual existence and the phantasmsof the mind seem inseparably mingled, and it is only after much experienceand a considerable development of his powers, that the line of distinctionbetween them becomes defined. The power of investing an elongated bag ofbran with the attributes and qualities of a thinking being, so as to makeit an object of solicitude and affection, which would seem to imply a highexercise of one of the most refined and exalted of the human faculties, does not come, as we might have expected, at the end of a long period ofprogress and development, but springs into existence, as it were, at once, in the very earliest years. The progress and development are required toenable the child to perceive that the rude and shapeless doll is _not_ aliving and lovable thing. This mingling of the real and imaginary worldsshows itself to the close observer in a thousand curious ways. 

The true explanation of the phenomenon seems to be that the various embryofaculties are brought into action by the vital force at first in a veryirregular, intermingled, and capricious manner, just as the muscles arein the endless and objectless play of the limbs and members. They developthemselves and grow by this very action, and we ought not only to indulge, but to cherish the action in all its beautiful manifestations by everymeans in our power. These mental organs, so to speak--that is, the organsof the brain, through which, while its connection with the body continues, the mind performs its mental functions--grow and thrive, as the muscles do, by being reasonably kept in exercise. 

It is evident, from these facts, that the parent should be pleased with, and should encourage the exercise of these embryo powers in his children;and both father and mother may be greatly aided in their efforts to devisemeans for reaching and influencing their hearts by means of them, andespecially through the action of the imagination, which will be found, whenproperly employed, to be capable of exercising an almost magical powerof imparting great attractiveness and giving great effect to lessons ofinstruction which, in their simple form, would be dull, tiresome, andineffective. Precisely what is meant by this will be shown more clearly bysome examples. 

_Methods exemplified_. 

One of the simplest and easiest modes by which a mother can avail herselfof the vivid imagination of the child in amusing and entertaining him, is by holding conversations with representations of persons, or even ofanimals, in the pictures which she shows him. Thus, in the case, forexample, of a picture which she is showing to her child sitting in herlap--the picture containing, we will suppose, a representation of a littlegirl with books under her arm--she may say, "My little girl, where are you going?--I am going" (speaking now in asomewhat altered voice, to represent the voice of the little girl) "toschool. --Ah! you are going to school. You don't look quite old enough togo to school. Who sits next to you at school?--George Williams. --GeorgeWilliams? Is he a good boy?--Yes, he's a very good boy. --I am glad you havea good boy, and one that is kind to you, to sit by you. That must be verypleasant. " And so on, as long as the child is interested in listening. 

Or, "What is your name, my little girl?--My name is Lucy. --That's a prettyname! And where do you live?--I live in that house under the trees. --Ah! Isee the house. And where is your room in that house?--My room is theone where you see the window open. --I see it. What have you got in yourroom?--I have a bed, and a table by the window; and I keep my doll there. Ihave got a cradle for my doll, and a little trunk to keep her clothes in. And I have got--" The mother may go on in this way, and describe a greatnumber and variety of objects in the room, such as are calculated tointerest and please the little listener. 

It is the pleasurable exercise of some dawning faculty or faculties actingthrough embryo organs of the brain, by which the mind can picture toitself, more or less vividly, unreal scenes, which is the source of theenjoyment in such cases as this. 

A child may be still more interested, perhaps, by imaginary conversationsof this kind with pictures of animals, and by varying the form of them insuch a way as to call a new set of mental faculties into play; as, forexample, "Here is a picture of a squirrel. I'll ask him where he lives. 'Bunny!bunny! stop a minute; I want to speak to you. I want you to tell me whereyou live. --I live in my hole. --Where is your hole?--It is under that biglog that you see back in the woods. ' Yes" (speaking now to the child), "Isee the log. Do you see it? Touch it with your finger. Yes, that must beit. But I don't see any hole. 'Bunny' (assuming now the tone of speakingagain to the squirrel), 'I don't see your hole. --No, I did not mean thatany body should see it. I made it in a hidden place in the ground, so asto have it out of sight. --I wish I could see it, and I wish more that Icould look down into it and see what is there. What is there _in_ yourhole, bunny?--My nest is there, and my little bunnies. --How many littlebunnies have you got?'"--And so on, to any extent that you desire. 

It is obvious that conversations of this kind may be made the means ofconveying, indirectly, a great deal of instruction to young children on agreat variety of subjects; and lessons of duty may be inculcated thus in avery effective manner, and by a method which is at the same time easy andagreeable for the mother, and extremely attractive to the child. 

This may seem a very simple thing, and it is really very simple; but anymother who has never resorted to this method of amusing and instructing herchild will be surprised to find what an easy and inexhaustible resource forher it may become. Children are always coming to ask for stories, and themother often has no story at hand, and her mind is too much preoccupied toinvent one. Here is a ready resort in every such emergency. 

"Very well, " replies the mother to such a request, "I'll tell you a story;but I must have a picture to my story. Find me a picture in some book. "

The child brings a picture, no matter what. There is no possible picturethat will not suggest to a person possessed of ordinary ingenuity anendless number of talks to interest and amuse the child. To take an extremecase, suppose the picture is a rude pencil drawing of a post, and nothingbesides. You can imagine a boy hidden behind the post, and you can call tohim, and finally obtain an answer from him, and have a long talk with himabout his play and who he is hiding from, and what other way he has ofplaying with his friend. Or you can talk with the post directly. Ask himwhere he came from, who put him in the ground, and what he was put in theground for, and what kind of a tree he was when he was a part of a treegrowing in the woods; and, following the subject out, the conversation maybe the means of not only amusing the child for the moment, but alsoof gratifying his curiosity, and imparting a great amount of usefulinformation to him which will materially aid in the development of hispowers. 

Or you may ask the post whether he has any relatives, and he may reply thathe has a great many cousins. He has some cousins that live in the city, andthey are called lamp-posts, and their business is to hold lamps to lightpeople along the streets; and he has some other cousins who stand in a longrow and hold up the telegraph-wire to carry messages from one part of theworld to another; and so on without end. If all this may done by means of arude representation of a simple post, it may easily be seen that no picturewhich the child can possibly bring can fail to serve as a subject for suchconversations. 

Some mothers may, perhaps, think it must require a great deal of ingenuityand skill to carry out these ideas effectively in practice, and that istrue; or rather, it is true that there is in it scope for the exercise ofa great deal of ingenuity and skill, and even of genius, for those whopossess these qualities; but the degree of ingenuity required for acommencement in this method is very small, and that necessary for completesuccess in it is very easily acquired. 

_Personification of Inanimate Objects_. 

It will at once occur to the mother that any inanimate object may bepersonified in this way and addressed as a living and intelligent being. Your child is sick, I will suppose, and is somewhat feverish and fretful. In adjusting his dress you prick him a little with a pin, and the painand annoyance acting on his morbid sensibilities bring out expressions ofirritation and ill-humor. Now you may, if you please, tell him that he mustnot be so impatient, that you did not mean to hurt him, that he must notmind a little prick, and the like, and you will meet with the ordinarysuccess that attends such admonitions. Or, in the spirit of the foregoingsuggestions, you may say, "Did the pin prick you? I'll catch the little rogue, and hear what he hasto say for himself. Ah, here he is--I've caught him! I'll hold him fast. Lie still in my lap, and we will hear what he has to say. 

"'Look up here, my little prickler, and tell me what your name is. --My nameis pin. --Ah, your name is pin, is it? How bright you are! How came you tobe so bright?--Oh, they brightened me when they made me. --Indeed! And howdid they make you?--They made me in a machine. --In a machine? That's verycurious! How did they make you in the machine? Tell us all about it!--Theymade me out of wire. First the machine cut off a piece of the wire longenough to make me, and then I was carried around to different parts of themachine to have different things done to me. I went first to one part toget straightened. Don't you see how straight I am?--Yes, you are verystraight indeed. --Then I went to another part of the machine and had myhead put on; and then I went to another part and had my point sharpened;and then I was polished, and covered all over with a beautiful silvering, to make me bright and white. '"

And so on indefinitely. The mother may continue the talk as long as thechild is interested, by letting the pin give an account of the variousadventures that happened to it in the course of its life, and finally callit to account for pricking a poor little sick child. 

Any mother can judge whether such a mode of treating the case, or the moreusual one of gravely exhorting the child to patience and good-humor, whensick, is likely to be most effectual in soothing the nervous irritation ofthe little patient, and restoring its mind to a condition of calmness andrepose. 

The mother who reads these suggestions in a cursory manner, and contentsherself with saying that they are very good, but makes no resolute andpersevering effort to acquire for herself the ability to avail herself ofthem, will have no idea of the immense practical value of them as a meansof aiding her in her work, and in promoting the happiness of her children. But if she will make the attempt, she will most certainly find enoughencouragement in her first effort to induce her to persevere. 

[Illustration: THE IMAGINATIVE FACULTY. ]

She must, moreover, not only originate, herself, modes of amusing theimagination of her children, but must fall in with and aid those which_they_ originate. If your little daughter is playing with her doll, look upfrom your work and say a few words to the doll or the child in a grave andserious manner, assuming that the doll is a living and sentient being. Ifyour boy is playing horses in the garden while you are there attending toyour flowers, ask him with all gravity what he values his horse at, andwhether he wishes to sell him. Ask him whether he ever bites, or breaks outof his pasture; and give him some advice about not driving him too fast uphill, and not giving him oats when he is warm. He will at once enter intosuch a conversation in the most serious manner, and the pleasure of hisplay will be greatly increased by your joining with him in maintaining theillusion. 

There is a still more important advantage than the temporary increase toyour children's happiness by acting on this principle. By thus joining withthem, even for a few moments, in their play, you establish a closer bondof sympathy between your own heart and theirs, and attach them to you morestrongly than you can do by any other means. Indeed, in many cases the mostimportant moral lessons can be conveyed in connection with these illusionsof children, and in a way not only more agreeable but far more effectivethan by any other method. 

_Influence without Claim to Authority_. 

Acting through the imagination of children--if the art of doing so is onceunderstood--will prove at once an invaluable and an inexhaustible resourcefor all those classes of persons who are placed in situations requiringthem to exercise an influence over children without having any properauthority over them; such, for example, as uncles and aunts, older brothersand sisters, and even visitors residing more or less permanently in afamily, and desirous, from a wish to do good, of promoting the welfare andthe improvement of the younger members of it. It often happens that sucha visitor, without any actual right of authority, acquires a greaterinfluence over the minds of the children than the parents themselves; andmany a mother, who, with all her threatenings and scoldings, and evenpunishments, can not make herself obeyed, is surprised at the absoluteascendency which some inmate residing in the family acquires over them bymeans so silent, gentle, and unpretending, that they seem mysterious andalmost magical. "What is the secret of it?" asks the mother sometimes insuch a case. "You never punish the children, and you never scold them, andyet they obey you a great deal more readily and certainly than they do me. "

There are a great many different means which may be employed in combinationwith each other for acquiring this kind of ascendency, and among them theuse which may be made of the power of the imagination in the young is oneof the most important. 

_The Intermediation of the Dolls again_. 

A young teacher, for example, in returning from school some day, finds thechildren of the family in which she resides, who have been playing withtheir dolls in the yard, engaged in some angry dispute. The first impulsewith many persons in such a case might be to sit down with the childrenupon the seat where they were playing, and remonstrate with them, thoughin a very kind and gentle manner, on the wrongfulness and folly of suchdisputings, to show them that the thing in question is not worth disputingabout, that angry feelings are uncomfortable and unhappy feelings, and thatit is, consequently, not only a sin, but a folly to indulge in them. 

Now such a remonstrance, if given in a kind and gentle manner, willundoubtedly do good. The children will be somewhat less likely to becomeinvolved in such a dispute immediately after it than before, and in processof time, and through many repetitions of such counsels, the fault maybe gradually cured. Still, at the time, it will make the childrenuncomfortable, by producing in their minds a certain degree of irritation. They will be very apt to listen in silence, and with a morose and sullenair; and if they do not call the admonition a scolding, on account of thekind and gentle tones in which it is delivered, they will be very apt toconsider it much in that light. 

Suppose, however, that, instead of dealing with the case in thismatter-of-fact and naked way, the teacher calls the imagination of thechildren to her aid, and administers her admonition and reproof indirectly, through the dolls. She takes the dolls in her hand, asks their names, andinquires which of the two girls is the mother of each. The dolls' names areBella and Araminta, and the mothers' are Lucy and Mary. 

"But I might have asked Araminta herself, " she adds; and, so saying, sheholds the doll before her, and enters into a long imaginary conversationwith her, more or less spirited and original, according to the talent andingenuity of the young lady, but, in any conceivable case, enough so tocompletely absorb the attention of the children and fully to occupy theirminds. She asks each of them her name, and inquires of each which of thegirls is her mother, and makes first one of them, and then the other, pointto her mother in giving her answer. By this time the illusion is completelyestablished in the children's minds of regarding their dolls as livingbeings, responsible to mothers for their conduct and behavior; and theyoung lady can go on and give her admonitions and instructions in respectto the sin and folly of quarrelling to them--the children listening. And itwill be found that by this management the impression upon the minds of thechildren will be far greater and more effective than if the counsels wereaddressed directly to them; while, at the same time, though they may eventake the form of very severe reproof, they will produce no sullenness orvexation in the minds of those for whom they are really intended. Indeed, the very reason why the admonition thus given will be so much moreeffective is the fact that it does _not_ tend in any degree to awakenresentment and vexation, but associates the lesson which the teacher wishesto convey with amusement and pleasure. 

"You are very pretty"--she says, we will suppose, addressing thedolls--"and you look very amiable. I suppose you _are_ very amiable. "

Then, turning to the children, she asks, in a confidential undertone, "Dothey ever get into disputes and quarrels?"

"_Sometimes, _" says one of the children, entering at once into the idea ofthe teacher. 

"Ah!" the teacher exclaims, turning again to the dolls. "I hear that youdispute and quarrel sometimes, and I am very sorry for it. That is veryfoolish. It is only silly little children that we expect will dispute andquarrel. I should not have supposed it possible in the case of such youngladies as you. It is a great deal better to be yielding and kind. If one ofyou says something that the other thinks is not true, let it pass withoutcontradiction; it is foolish to dispute about it. And so if one has anything that the other wants, it is generally much better to wait for it thanto quarrel. It is hateful to quarrel. Besides, it spoils your beauty. Whenchildren are quarrelling they look like little furies. "

The teacher may go on in this way, and give a long moral lecture to thedolls in a tone of mock gravity, and the children will listen to it withthe most profound attention; and it will have a far greater influence uponthem than the same admonitions addressed directly to _them_. 

So effectually, in fact, will this element of play in the transaction opentheir hearts to the reception of good counsel, that even direct admonitionsto _them_ will be admitted with it, if the same guise is maintained; forthe teacher may add, in conclusion, addressing now the children themselveswith the same mock solemnity:

"That is a very bad fault of your children--very bad, indeed. And it is onethat you will find very hard to correct. You must give them a great dealof good counsel on the subject, and, above all, you must be careful to setthem a good example yourselves. Children always imitate what they see intheir mothers, whether it is good or bad. If you are always amiable andkind to one another, they will be so too. "

The thoughtful mother, in following out the suggestions here given, willsee at once how the interest which the children take in their dolls, andthe sense of reality which they feel in respect to all their dealings withthem, opens before her a boundless field in respect to modes of reachingand influencing their minds and hearts. 

_The Ball itself made to teach Carefulness_. 

There is literally no end to the modes by which persons having the chargeof young children can avail themselves of their vivid imaginative powersin inculcating moral lessons or influencing their conduct. A boy, we willsuppose, has a new ball. Just as he is going out to play with it his fathertakes it from him to examine it, and, after turning it round and looking atit attentively on every side, holds it up to his ear. The boy asks what hisfather is doing. "I am listening to hear what he says. " "And what does hesay, father?" "He says that you won't have him to play with long. " "Whynot?" "I will ask him, why not?" (holding the ball again to his ear). "Whatdoes he say, father?" "He says he is going to run away from you and hide. He says you will go to play near some building, and he means, when youthrow him or knock him, to fly against the windows and break the glass, andthen people will take your ball away from you. " "But I won't play near anywindows. " "He says, at any rate you will play near some building, and whenyou knock him he means to fly up to the roof and get behind a chimney, orroll down into the gutter where you can't get him. " "But, father, I am notgoing to play near any building at all. " "Then you will play in some placewhere there are holes in the ground, or thickets of bushes near, where hecan hide. " "No, father, I mean to look well over the ground, and not playin any place where there is any danger at all. " "Well, we shall see; butthe little rogue is determined to hide somewhere. " The boy takes his balland goes out to play with it, far more effectually cautioned than he couldhave been by any direct admonition. 

_The Teacher and the Tough Logs_

A teacher who was engaged in a district school in the country, where thearrangement was for the older boys to saw and split the wood for the fire, on coming one day, at the recess, to see how the work was going on, foundthat the boys had laid one rather hard-looking log aside. They could notsplit that log, they said. 

"Yes, " said the teacher, looking at the log, "I don't wonder. I know thatlog. I saw him before. His name is Old Gnarly. He says he has no ideaof coming open for a parcel of boys, even if they _have_ got beetle andwedges. It takes a man, he says, to split _him_. "

The boys stood looking at the log with a very grave expression ofcountenance as they heard these words. 

"Is that what he says?" asked one of them. "Let's try him again, Joe. "

"It will do no good, " said the teacher, "for he won't come open, if he canpossibly help it. And _there's_ another fellow (pointing). His name isSlivertwist. If you get a crack in him, you will find him full of twistedsplinters that he holds himself together with. The only way is to cut themthrough with a sharp axe. But he holds on so tight with them that I don'tbelieve you can get him open. He says he never gives up to boys. "

So saying, the teacher went away. It is scarcely necessary to say to anyone who knows boys that the teacher was called out not long afterwards tosee that Old Gnarly and Old Slivertwist were both split up fine--theboys standing around the heaps of well-prepared fire-wood which they hadafforded, and regarding them with an air of exultation and triumph. 

_Muscles reinvigorated through the Action of the Mind_. 

An older sister has been taking a walk, with little Johnny, four years old, as her companion. On their return, when within half a mile of home, Johnny, tired of gathering flowers and chasing butterflies, comes to his sister, with a fatigued and languid air, and says he can not walk any farther, andwants to be carried. 

"I can't carry you very well, " she says, "but I will tell you what we willdo; we will stop at the first tavern we come to and rest. Do you see thatlarge flat stone out there at the turn of the road? That is the tavern, andyou shall be my courier. A courier is a man that goes forward as fast as hecan on his horse, and tells the tavern-keeper that the traveller is coming, and orders supper. So you may gallop on as fast as you can go, and, when you get to the tavern, tell the tavern-keeper that the princess iscoming--I am the princess--and that he must get ready an excellent supper. "

The boy will gallop on and wait at the stone. When his sister arrivesshe may sit and rest with him a moment, entertaining him by imaginingconversations with the inn-keeper, and then resume their walk. 

"Now, " she may say, "I must send my courier to the post-office with aletter. Do you see that fence away forward? That fence is the post-office. We will play that one of the cracks between the boards is the letter-box. Take this letter (handing him any little scrap of paper which she hastaken from her pocket and folded to represent a letter) and put it in theletter-box, and speak to the postmaster through the crack, and tell him tosend the letter as soon as he can. "

Under such management as this, unless the child's exhaustion is very great, his sense of it will disappear, and he will accomplish the walk not onlywithout any more complaining, but with a great feeling of pleasure. Thenature of the action in such a case seems to be that the vital force, when, in its direct and ordinary passage to the muscles through the nerves, ithas exhausted the resources of that mode of transmission, receives in somemysterious way a reinforcement to its strength in passing round, by a newchannel, through the organs of intelligence and imagination. 

These trivial instances are only given as examples to show how infinitelyvaried are the applications which may be made of this principle ofappealing to the imagination of children, and what a variety of effects maybe produced through its instrumentality by a parent or teacher who oncetakes pains to make himself possessed of it. But each one must make himselfpossessed of it by his own practice and experience. No general instructionscan do any thing more than to offer the suggestion, and to show how abeginning is to be made. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD. 

The duty of telling the truth seems to us, until we have devoted specialconsideration to the subject, the most simple thing in the world, both tounderstand and to perform; and when we find young children disregarding itwe are surprised and shocked, and often imagine that it indicates somethingpeculiar and abnormal in the moral sense of the offender. A littlereflection, however, will show us how very different the state of the casereally is. What do we mean by the obligation resting upon us to tell thetruth? It is simply, in general terms, that it is our duty to make ourstatements correspond with the realities which they purport to express. This is, no doubt, our duty, as a general rule, but there are so manyexceptions to this rule, and the principles on which the admissibilityof the exceptions depend are so complicated and so abstruse, that it iswonderful that children learn to make the necessary distinctions as soon asthey do. 

_Natural Guidance to the Duty of telling the Truth_. 

The child, when he first acquires the art of using and understandinglanguage, is filled with wonder and pleasure to find that he can representexternal objects that he observes, and also ideas passing through his mind, by means of sounds formed by his organs of speech. Such sounds, he finds, have both these powers--that is, they can represent realities or fancies. Thus, when he utters the sounds _I see a bird_, they may denote either amere conception in his mind, or an outward actuality. How is he possibly toknow, by any instinct, or intuition, or moral sense when it is right forhim to use them as representations of a mere idea, and when it is wrong forhim to use them, unless they correspond with some actual reality?

The fact that vivid images or conceptions may be awakened in his mind bythe mere hearing of certain sounds made by himself or another is somethingstrange and wonderful to him; and though he comes to his consciousness ofthis susceptibility by degrees, it is still, while he is acquiring it, andextending the scope and range of it, a source of continual pleasure to him. The necessity of any correspondence of these words, and of the images whichthey excite, with actual realities, is a necessity which arises from therelations of man to man in the social state, and he has no means whateverof knowing any thing about it except by instruction. 

There is not only no ground for expecting that children should perceive anysuch necessity either by any kind of instinct, or intuition, or embryomoral sense, or by any reasoning process of which his incipient powers arecapable; but even if he should by either of these means be inclined toentertain such an idea, his mind would soon be utterly confused in regardto it by what he observes constantly taking place around him in respect tothe use of language by others whose conduct, much more than their precepts, he is accustomed to follow as his guide. 

_A very nice Distinction_. 

A mother, for example, takes her little son, four or five years old, intoher lap to amuse him with a story. She begins: "When I was a little boy Ilived by myself. All the bread and cheese I got I laid upon the shelf, " andso on to the end. The mother's object is accomplished. The boy is amused. He is greatly interested and pleased by the wonderful phenomenon takingplace within him of curious images awakened in his mind by means of soundsentering his ear--images of a little boy living alone, of his reaching upto put bread and cheese upon a shelf, and finally of his attempting towheel a little wife home--the story ending with the breaking and downfallof the wheelbarrow, wife and all. He does not reflect philosophically uponthe subject, but the principal element of the pleasure afforded him is thewonderful phenomenon of the formation of such vivid and strange images inhis mind by means of the mere sound of his mother's voice. 

He knows at once, if any half-formed reflections arise in his mind at all, that what his mother has told him is not true--that is, that the words andimages which they awaken in his mind had no actual realities correspondingwith them. He knows, in the first place, that his mother never was a boy, and does not suppose that she ever lived by herself, and laid up her breadand cheese upon a shelf. The whole story, he understands, if he exercisesany thought about it whatever--wheelbarrow catastrophe and all--consistsonly of words which his mother speaks to him to give him pleasure. 

By-and-by his mother gives him a piece of cake, and he goes out into thegarden to play. His sister is there and asks him to give her a piece of hiscake. He hesitates. He thinks of the request long enough to form a distinctimage in his mind of giving her half of it, but finally concludes not to doso, and eats it all himself. 

When at length he comes in, his mother accidentally asks him some questionabout the cake, and he says he gave half of it to his sister. His motherseems much pleased. He knew that she would be pleased. He said it, in fact, on purpose to please her. The words represented no actual reality, but onlya thought passing through his mind, and he spoke, in a certain sense, forthe purpose of giving his mother pleasure. The case corresponds in allthese particulars with that of his mother's statement in respect to herbeing once a little boy and living by herself. Those words were spoken byher to give him pleasure, and he said what he did to give her pleasure. To give her pleasure! the reader will perhaps say, with some surprise, thinking that to assign such a motive as that is not, by any means, puttinga fair and proper construction upon the boy's act. His design was, it willbe said, to shield himself from censure, or to procure undeserved praise. And it is, no doubt, true that, on a nice analysis of the motives of theact, such as we, in our maturity, can easily make, we shall find thatdesign obscurely mingled with them. But the child does not analyze. He cannot. He does not look forward to ultimate ends, or look for the hiddensprings that lie concealed among the complicated combinations of impulseswhich animate him. In the case that we are supposing, all that we canreasonably believe to be present to his mind is a kind of instinctivefeeling that for him to say that he ate the cake all himself would bring afrown, or at least a look of pain and distress, to his mother's face, andperhaps words of displeasure for him; while, if he says that he gave halfto his sister, she will look pleased and happy. This is as far as he sees. And he may be of such an age, and his mental organs may be in so embryonica condition, that it is as far as he ought to be expected to look; so that, as the case presents itself to his mind in respect to the impulse which atthe moment prompts him to act, he said what he did from a desire to givehis mother pleasure, and not pain. As to the secret motive, which mighthave been his ultimate end, _that_ lay too deeply concealed for him tobe conscious of it. And we ourselves too often act from the influenceof hidden impulses of selfishness, the existence of which we are whollyunconscious of, to judge him too harshly for his blindness. 

At length, by-and-by, when his sister conies in, and the untruth isdiscovered, the boy is astonished and bewildered by being called to accountin a very solemn manner by his mother on account of the awful wickedness ofhaving told a lie!

_How the Child sees it_. 

Now I am very ready to admit that, notwithstanding the apparent resemblancebetween these two cases, this resemblance is only apparent and superficial;but the question is, whether it is not sufficient to cause such a childto confound them, and to be excusable, until he has been enlightened byappropriate instruction, for not clearly distinguishing the cases wherewords must be held strictly to conform to actual realities, from thosewhere it is perfectly right and proper that they should only representimages or conceptions of the mind. 

A father, playing with his children, says, "Now I am a bear, and am goingto growl. " So he growls. Then he says, "Now I am a dog, and am going tobark. " He is not a bear, and he is not a dog, and the children know it. His words, therefore, even to the apprehension of the children, express anuntruth, in the sense that they do not correspond with any actual reality. It is not a wrongful untruth. The children understand perfectly well thatin such a case as this it is not in any sense wrong to say what is nottrue. But how are they to know what kind of untruths are right, and whatkind are wrong, until they are taught what the distinction is and upon whatit depends. 

Unfortunately many parents confuse the ideas, or rather the moral sense oftheir children, in a much more vital manner by untruths of a different kindfrom this--as, for example, when a mother, in the presence of her children, expresses a feeling of vexation and annoyance at seeing a certain visitorcoming to make a call, and then, when the visitor enters the room, receivesher with pretended pleasure, and says, out of politeness, that she is veryglad to see her. Sometimes a father will join with his children, whenpeculiar circumstances seem, as he thinks, to require it, in concealingsomething from their mother, or deceiving her in regard to it bymisrepresentations or positive untruths. Sometimes even the mother will dothis in reference to the father. Of course such management as this mustnecessarily have the effect of bringing up the children to the idea thatdeceiving by untruths is a justifiable resort in certain cases--a doctrinewhich, though entertained by many well-meaning persons, strikes a fatalblow at all confidence in the veracity of men; for whenever we know of anypersons that they entertain this idea, it is never afterwards safe to trustin what they say, since we never can know that the case in hand is not, for some reason unknown to us, one of those which justify a resort tofalsehood. 

But to return to the case of the children that are under the training ofparents who will not themselves, under any circumstances, falsify theirword--that is, will never utter words that do not represent actual realityin any of the wrongful ways. Such children can not be expected to know ofthemselves, or to learn without instruction, what the wrongful ways are, and they never do learn until they have made many failures. Many, it istrue, learn when they are very young. Many evince a remarkable tendernessof conscience in respect to this as well as to all their other duties, sofast as they are taught them. And some become so faithful and scrupulous inrespect to truth, at so early an age, that their parents quite forget theprogressive steps by which they advanced at the beginning. We find many amother who will say of her boy that he never told an untruth, but we do notfind any man who will say of himself, that when he was a boy he never toldone. 

_Imaginings and Rememberings easily mistaken for each other_. 

But besides the complicated character of the general subject, as itpresents itself to the minds of children--that is, the intricacy to them ofthe question when there must be a strict correspondence between the wordsspoken and an actual reality, and when they may rightly represent mereimages or fancies of the mind--there is another great difficulty in theirway, one that is very little considered and often, indeed, not at allunderstood by parents--and that is, that in the earliest years thedistinction between realities and mere fancies of the mind is veryindistinctly drawn. Even in our minds the two things are often confounded. We often have to pause and think in order to decide whether a mentalperception of which we are conscious is a remembrance of a reality, or arevival of some image formed at some previous time, perhaps remote, by avivid description which we have read or heard, or even by our own fancy. "Is that really so, or did I dream it?" How often is such a question heard. And persons have been known to certify honestly, in courts of justice, tofacts which they think they personally witnessed, but which were reallypictured in their minds in other ways. The picture was so distinct andvivid that they lost, in time, the power of distinguishing it from otherand, perhaps, similar pictures which had been made by their witnessing thecorresponding realities. 

Indeed, instead of being surprised that these different origins of presentmental images are sometimes confounded, it is actually wonderful that theycan generally be so clearly distinguished; and we can not explain, even toourselves, what the difference is by which we do distinguish them. 

For example, we can call up to our minds the picture of a house burningand a fireman going up by a ladder to rescue some person appearing at thewindow. Now the image, in such a case, may have had several different modesof origin. 1. We may have actually witnessed such a scene the eveningbefore. 2. Some one may have given us a vivid description of it. 3. We mayhave fancied it in writing a tale, and 4. We may have dreamed it. Here arefour different prototypes of a picture which is now renewed, and there issomething in the present copy which enables us, in most cases, to determineat once what the real prototype was. That is, there is something in thepicture which now arises in our mind as a renewal or repetition of thepicture made the day before, which makes us immediately cognizant of thecause of the original picture--that is, whether it came from a reality thatwe witnessed, or from a verbal or written description by another person, orwhether it was a fanciful creation of our own mind while awake, or a dream. And it is extremely difficult for us to discover precisely what it is, inthe present mental picture, which gives us this information in respect tothe origin of its prototype. It is very easy to say, "Oh, we _remember_. "But remember is only a word. We can only mean by it, in such a case asthis, that there is some _latent difference_ between the several imagesmade upon our minds to-day of things seen, heard of, fancied, or dreamedyesterday, by which we distinguish each from all the others. But the mostacute metaphysicians--men who are accustomed to the closest scrutiny of themovements and the mode of action of their minds--find it very difficult todiscover what this difference is. 

_The Result in the Case of Children_. 

Now, in the case of young children, the faculties of perceptionand consciousness and the power of recognizing the distinguishingcharacteristics of the different perceptions and sensations of their mindsare all immature, and distinctions which even to mature minds are not soclear but that they are often confounded, for them form a bewilderingmaze. Their minds are occupied with a mingled and blended though beautifulcombination of sensations, conceptions, fancies, and remembrances, whichthey do not attempt to separate from each other, and their vocal organs areanimated by a constant impulse to exercise themselves with any utteranceswhich the incessant and playful gambollings of their faculties frame. Inother words, the vital force liberated by the digestion of the food seeksan issue now in this way and now in that, through every variety of mentaland bodily action. Of course, to arrange and systematize these actions, to establish the true relations between all these various faculties andpowers, and to regulate the obligations and duties by which the exerciseof them should be limited and controlled, is a work of time, and is to beeffected, not by the operation of any instinct or early intuition, but bya course of development--effected mainly by the progress of growth andexperience, though it is to be aided and guided by assiduous but gentletraining and instruction. 

If these views are correct, we can safely draw from them the followingconclusions. 

_Practical Conclusions_. 

1. We must not expect from children that they will from the beginningunderstand and feel the obligation to speak the truth, any more than welook for a recognition, on their part, of the various other principles ofduty which arise from the relations of man to man in the social state. Wedo not expect that two babies creeping upon the floor towards the sameplaything should each feel instinctively impelled to grant the other theuse of it half of the time. Children must be taught to tell the truth, justas they must be taught the principles of justice and equal rights. Theygenerally get taught by experience--that is, by the rough treatment andhard knocks which they bring upon themselves by their violation of theseprinciples. But the faithful parent can aid them in acquiring the necessaryknowledge in a far easier and more agreeable manner by appropriateinstruction. 

2. The mother must not be distressed or too much troubled when she findsthat her children, while very young are prone to fall into deviations fromthe truth, but only to be made to feel more impressed with the necessity ofrenewing her own efforts to teach them the duty, and to train them to theperformance of it. 

3. She must not be too stern or severe in punishing the deviations fromtruth in very young children, or in expressing the displeasure whichthey awaken in her mind. It is instruction, not expressions of anger orvindictive punishment, that is required in most cases. Explain to them theevils that would result if we could not believe what people say, and tellthem stories of truth-loving children on the one hand, and of false anddeceitful children on the other. And, above all, notice, with indicationsof approval and pleasure, when the child speaks the truth undercircumstances which might have tempted him to deviate from it. One instanceof this kind, in which you show that you observe and are pleased by histruthfulness, will do more to awaken in his heart a genuine love for thetruth than ten reprovals, or even punishments, incurred by the violation ofit. And in the same spirit we must make use of the religious considerationswhich are appropriate to this subject--that is, we must encourage the childwith the approval of his heavenly Father, when he resists the temptationto deviate from the truth, instead of frightening him, when he falls, byterrible denunciations of the anger of God against liars; denunciationswhich, however well-deserved in the cases to which they are intendedto apply, are not designed for children in whose minds the necessarydiscriminations, as pointed out in this chapter, are yet scarcely formed. 

_Danger of confounding Deceitfulness and Falsehood_. 

4. Do not confound the criminality of deceitfulness by acts with falsehoodby words, by telling the child, when he resorts to any artifice ordeception in order to gain his ends, that it is as bad to deceive as tolie. It is not as bad, by any means. There is a marked line of distinctionto be drawn between falsifying one's word and all other forms of deception, for there is such a sacredness in the spoken word, that the violation ofit is in general far more reprehensible than the attempt to accomplish thesame end by mere action. If a man has lost a leg, it may be perfectly rightfor him to wear a wooden one which is so perfectly made as to deceivepeople--and even to wear it, too, with the _intent_ to deceive people byleading them to suppose that both his legs are genuine--while it would bewrong; for him to assert in words that this limb was not an artificial one. It is right to put a chalk egg in a hen's nest to deceive the hen, when, ifthe hen could understand language, and if we were to suppose hens "to haveany rights that we are bound to respect, " it would be wrong to _tell_ herthat it was a real egg. It would be right for a person, when his housewas entered by a robber at night, to point an empty gun at the robber tofrighten him away by leading him to think that the gun was loaded; but itwould be wrong, as I think--though I am aware that many persons would thinkdifferently--for him to say in words that the gun was loaded, and that hewould fire unless the robber went away. These cases show that there is agreat difference between deceiving by false appearances, which is sometimesright, and doing it by false statements, which, as I think, is alwayswrong. There is a special and inviolable sacredness, which every lover ofthe truth should attach to his spoken word. 

5. We must not allow the leniency with which, according to the views herepresented, we are to regard the violations of truth by young persons, while their mental faculties and their powers of discrimination are yetimperfectly developed, to lead us to lower the standard of right in theirminds, so as to allow them to imbibe the idea that we think that falsehoodis, after all, no great sin, and still less, to suppose that we consider itsometimes, in extreme cases, allowable. We may, indeed, say, "The truth isnot to be spoken at all times, " but to make the aphorism complete we mustadd, that _falsehood_ is to be spoken _never_. There is no other possibleground for absolute confidence in the word of any man except the convictionthat his principle is, that it is _never, under any circumstances, or toaccomplish any purpose whatever, _ right for him to falsify it. 

A different opinion, I am aware, prevails very extensively among mankind, and especially among the continental nations of Europe, where it seems tobe very generally believed that in those cases in which falsehood will onthe whole be conducive of greater good than the truth it is allowable toemploy it. But it is easy to see that, so far as we know that those aroundus hold to this philosophy, all reasonable ground for confidence intheir statements is taken away; for we never can know, in respect to anystatement which they make, that the case is not one of those in which, forreasons not manifest to us, they think it is expedient--that is, conducivein some way to good--to state what is not true. 

While, therefore, we must allow children a reasonable time to bring theirminds to a full sense of the obligation of making their words alwaysconform to what is true, instead of shaping them so as best to attain theirpurposes for the time being--which is the course to which their earliestnatural instincts prompt them--and must deal gently and leniently withtheir incipient failures, we must do all in our power to bring them forwardas fast as possible to the adoption of the very highest standard as theirrule of duty in this respect; inculcating it upon them, by example as wellas by precept, that we can not innocently, under any circumstances, toescape any evil, or to gain any end, falsify our word. For there is no evilso great, and no end to be attained so valuable, as to justify the adoptionof a principle which destroys all foundation for confidence between man andman. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

JUDGMENT AND REASONING. 

It is a very unreasonable thing for parents to expect young children to bereasonable. Being reasonable in one's conduct or wishes implies the takinginto account of those bearings and relations of an act which are moreremote and less obvious, in contradistinction from being governedexclusively by those which are immediate and near. Now, it is notreasonable to expect children to be influenced by these remoteconsiderations, simply because in them the faculties by which they arebrought forward into the mind and invested with the attributes of realityare not yet developed. These faculties are all in a nascent or formativestate, and it is as idle to expect them, while thus immature, to fulfilltheir functions for any practical purpose, as it would be to expect a babyto expend the strength of its little arms in performing any useful labor. 

_Progress of Mental Development_. 

The mother sometimes, when she looks upon her infant lying in her arms, andobserves the intentness with which he seems to gaze upon objects in theroom--upon the bright light of the window or of the lamp, or upon thepictures on the wall--wonders what he is thinking of. The truth probably isthat he is not thinking at all; he is simply _seeing_--that is to say, thelight from external objects is entering his eyes and producing images uponhis sensorium, and that is all. He _sees_ only. There might have been asimilar image of the light in his mind the day before, but the reproductionof the former image which constitutes memory does not probably take placeat all in his case if he is very young, so that there is not present to hismind, in connection with the present image, any reproduction of the formerone. Still less does he make any mental comparison between the two. Themother, as she sees the light of to-day, may remember the one of yesterday, and mentally compare the two; may have many _thoughts_ awakened in her mindby the sensation and the recollection--such as, this is from a new kind ofoil, and gives a brighter light than the other; that she will use this kindof oil in all her lamps, and will recommend it to her friends, and so onindefinitely. But the child has none of these thoughts and can have none;for neither have the faculties been developed within him by which they areconceived, nor has he had the experience of the previous sensations to formthe materials for framing them. He is conscious of the present sensations, and that is all. 

As he advances, however, in his experience of sensations, and as his mentalpowers gradually begin to be unfolded, what may be called _thoughts_ arise, consisting at first, probably, of recollections of past sensationsentering into his consciousness in connection with the present ones. Thesecombinations, and the mental acts of various kinds which are excited bythem, multiply as he advances towards maturity; but the images produced bypresent realities are infinitely more vivid and have a very much greaterpower over him than those which memory brings up from the past, or that hisfancy can anticipate in the future. 

This state of things, though there is, of course, a gradual advancement inthe relative influence of what the mind can conceive, as compared with thatwhich the senses make real, continues substantially the same through allthe period of childhood and youth. In other words, the organs of sense andof those mental faculties which are directly occupied with the sensations, are the earliest to be developed, as we might naturally suppose would bethe case; and, by consequence, the sensible properties of objects andthe direct and immediate effects of any action, are those which have acontrolling influence over the volitions of the mind during all the earlierperiods of its development. The _reason_, on the other hand, which, asapplied to the practical affairs of life, has for its function the bringingin of the more remote bearings and relations of a fact, or the indirectand less obvious results of an action, is very slowly developed. It isprecisely on this account that the period of immaturity in the humanspecies is so long protracted in comparison with that of the inferioranimals. The lives of these animals are regulated by the cognizance simplyof the sensible properties of objects, and by the immediate results oftheir acts, and they accordingly become mature as soon as their senses andtheir bodily organs are brought completely into action. But man, who isto be governed by his reason--that is, by much more far-reaching andcomprehensive views of what concerns him--requires a much longer period tofit him for independent action, since he must wait for the development ofthose higher faculties which are necessary for the attainment of theseextended views; and during this period he must depend upon the reason ofhis parents instead of being governed by his own. 

_Practical Effect of these Truths_. 

The true course, then, for parents to pursue is not to expect too much fromthe ability of their children to see what is right and proper for them, butto decide all important questions themselves, using their own experienceand their own power of foresight as their guide. They are, indeed, tocultivate and train the reasoning and reflective powers of their children, but are not to expect them in early life to be sufficiently developed andstrengthened to bear any heavy strain, or to justify the placing of anyserious reliance upon them. They must, in a word, treat the reason and thejudgment of their children as the farmer treats the strength of his colt, which he exercises and, to a certain extent, employs, but never puts uponit any serious burden. 

It results from this view of the case that it is not wise for a parent toresort to arguing or reasoning with a child, as a substitute for authority, or even as an aid to make up for a deficiency of authority, in regard towhat it is necessary that the child should do. No doubt it is a good plansometimes to let the child decide for himself, but when you pretend toallow him to decide let him do it really. When you go out with him to takea walk, if it is so nearly immaterial which way you go that you are willingthat he should determine the question, then lay the case before him, givinghim the advantages and disadvantages of the different ways, and let himdecide; and then act according to his decision. But if you have determinedin your own mind which way to go, simply announce your determination; andif you give reasons at all, do not give them in such a way as to convey theidea to his mind that his obligation to submit is to rest partly on hisseeing the force of them. For every parent will find that this principle isa sound one and one of fundamental importance in the successful managementof children--namely, that it is much easier for a child to do what he doesnot like to do as an act of simple submission to superior authority, thanfor him to bring himself to an accordance with the decision by hearing andconsidering the reasons. In other words, it is much easier for him to obeyyour decision than to bring himself to the same decision against his ownwill. 

_In serious Cases no Reliance to be placed on the Reason of the Child_. 

In all those cases, therefore, in which the parent can not safely allow thechildren really to decide, such as the question of going to school, goingto church, taking medicine, remaining indoors on account of indispositionor of the weather, making visits, choice of playmates and companions, anda great many others which it would not be safe actually to allow themto decide, it is true kindness to them to spare their minds the painfulperplexity of a conflict. Decide for them. Do not say, "Oh, I would notdo this or that"--whatever it may be--"because"--and then go on to assignreasons thought of perhaps at the moment to meet the emergency, and indeedgenerally false; but, "Yes, I don't wonder that you would like to do it. I should like it if I were you. But it can not be done. " When there ismedicine to be taken, do not put the child in misery for half an hour whileyou resort to all sorts of arguments, and perhaps artifices, to bring himto a willingness to take it; but simply present it to him, saying, "It issomething very disagreeable, I know, but it must be taken;" and if it isrefused, allow of no delay, but at once, though without any appearance ofdispleasure, and in the gentlest-manner possible, force it down. Then, after the excitement of the affair has passed away, and you have yourlittle patient in your lap, and he is in good-humor--this is all, ofcourse, on the supposition that he is not very sick--say to him, "You wouldnot take your medicine a little while ago, and we had to force it down: Ihope it did not hurt you much. "

The child will probably make some fretful answer. 

[Illustration: STORY OF THE HORSE. ]

"It is not surprising that you did not like to take it. All children, whilethey are too young to be reasonable, and all animals, such as horses andcows, when they are sick, are very unwilling to take their medicine, and weoften have to force it down. You will, perhaps, refuse to take yours a goodmany times yet before you are old enough to see that it is a great dealeasier to take it willingly than it is to have it forced down. "

And then go on and tell him some amusing story of the difficulty somepeople had in forcing medicine down the throat of a sick horse, who did notknow enough to take it like a man. 

The idea is--for this case is only meant as an illustration of a generalprinciple--that the comfort and enjoyment of children, as well as the easyand successful working of parental government, is greatly promoted bydeciding for the children at once, and placing their action on the simpleground of obedience to authority in all those cases where the _decision cannot really and honestly be_ left to the children themselves. 

To listen reluctantly to the persistent arguments of children in favor oftheir being allowed to do what we are sure that we shall decide in the endthat it is not best for them to do, and to meet them with counter argumentswhich, if they are not actually false, as they are very apt to be in sucha case, are utterly powerless, from the incapacity of the children toappreciate them, on account of their being blinded by their wishes, is notto strengthen the reasoning powers, but to confuse and bewilder them, andimpede their development. 

_Mode of Dealing with the Reason of a Child_. 

The effect, however, will be excellent of calling into exercise the reasonand the judgment of the child in cases where the conclusion which hearrives at can be safely allowed to determine his action. You can help himin such cases by giving him any information that he desires, but do notembarrass him, and interfere with his exercising his own judgment byobtruding advice. Allow him in this way to lay out his own garden, to planthe course of a walk or a ride, and to decide upon the expenditure of hisown pocket-money, within certain restrictions in respect to such thingsas would be dangerous or hurtful to himself, or annoying to others. As hegrows older you can give him the charge of the minor arrangements on ajourney, such as taking care of a certain number of the parcels carriedin the hand, choosing a seat in the car, selecting and engaging a hand onarriving at the place of destination. Commit such things to his charge onlyso fast as you can really intrust him with power to act, and then, withslight and not obtrusive supervision on your part, leave the responsibilitywith him, noticing encouragingly whatever of fidelity and success youobserve, and taking little notice--generally in fact, none at all--of sucherrors and failures as result simply from inexperience and immaturity. 

In a word, make no attempt to seek support from his judgment, or byconvincing his reason, in important cases, where his feelings or wishes areinvolved, but in all such cases rest your decisions solely upon your ownauthority. But then, on the other hand, in unimportant cases, where noserious evil can result whichever of the various possible courses aretaken, call his judgment into exercise, and abide by its decisions. Givehim the responsibility if he likes to take it, but with the responsibilitygive him the power. 

Substantially the same principles as explained above, in their applicationto the exercise of the judgment, apply to the cultivation of the reasoningpowers--that is to say, in the act of arguing, or drawing conclusions frompremises. Nothing can be more unprofitable and useless, to say nothing ofits irritating and vexatious effect, than maintaining an argument with achild--or with any body else, in fact--to convince him against his will. Arguing very soon degenerates, in such a case, into an irritating andutterly useless dispute. The difference of opinion which gives occasion forsuch discussions arises generally from the fact that the child sees onlycertain of the more obvious and immediate relations and bearings of thesubject in question, which is, in fact, all that can be reasonably expectedof him, and forms his opinion from these alone. The parent, on the otherhand, takes a wider view, and includes among the premises on which hisconclusion is founded considerations which have never been brought to theattention of the child. The proper course, therefore, for him to pursuein order to bring the child's mind into harmony with his own, is not toridicule the boy's reasoning, or chide him for taking so short-sighted aview of the subject, or to tell him it is very foolish for him to talk ashe does, or silence him by a dogmatic decision, delivered in a dictatorialand overbearing manner, all of which is too often found to characterize thediscussions between parents and children, but calmly and quietly to presentto him the considerations bearing upon the question which he has not yetseen. To this end, and to bring the mind of the child into that listeningand willing state without which all arguments and even all attempts atinstruction are wasted, we must listen candidly to what he says himself, put the best construction upon it, give it its full force; see it, in aword, as nearly as possible as _he_ sees it, and let him know that wedo so. Then he will be much more ready to receive any additionalconsiderations which we may present to his mind, as things that must alsobe taken into account in forming a final judgment on the question. 

A boy, for example, who is full of health and increasing vigor, and inwhom, of course, those organs on which the consciousness of strength andthe impulses of courage depend are in the course of rapid and healthydevelopment, in reading to his mother a story in which a thief that cameinto a back store-room of a house in the evening, with a bag, to stealmeal, was detected by the owner and frightened away, looks up from his bookand says, in a very valiant manner, "If I had been there, and had a gun, I would have shot him on the spot. "

_The Rough Mode of Treatment_. 

Now, if the mother wishes to confuse and bewilder, and to crush down, so tospeak, the reasoning faculties of her child, she may say, "Nonsense, George! It is of no use for you to talk big in that way. Youwould not dare to fire a gun in such a case, still less, to shoot a man. The first thing you would do would be to run away and hide. And then, besides, it would be very wicked for you to kill a man in that way. Youwould be very likely to get yourself hung for murder. Besides, the Biblesays that we must not resist evil; so you should not talk so coolly aboutshooting a man. "

The poor boy would be overpowered by such a rebuke as this, and perhapssilenced. The incipient and half-formed ideas in his mind in respect to theright of self-defense, the virtue of courage, the sanctity of life, thenature and the limits of the doctrine of non-resistance, would be allthrown together into a jumble of hopeless confusion in his mind, andthe only result would be his muttering to himself, after a moment ofbewilderment and vexation, "I _would_ shoot him, anyhow. " Such treatmentwould not only fail to convince him that his idea was wrong, but wouldeffectually close his heart against any such conviction. 

_The Gentle Mode of Treatment_. 

But let the mother first see and recognize those bearings and relations ofthe question which the boy sees--that is, those which are the most directand immediate--and allow them their full force, and she establishes asympathy between his mind and hers, and prepares the way for his being ledby her to taking into the account other considerations which, though ofgreater importance, are not so obvious, and which it would be whollyunreasonable to expect that the boy would see himself, since they do notcome within the range of observation that could be reached spontaneously bythe unaided faculties of such a child. Suppose the mother says, in reply toher boy's boastful declaration that he would shoot the robber, "There would be a certain degree of justice in that, no doubt. "

"Yes, " rejoins the boy, "it would be no more than he deserved. "

"When a man engages in the commission of a crime, " adds the mother, "heruns the risk of all the perils that he exposes himself to, from theefforts of people to defend their property, and perhaps their lives; sothat, perhaps, _he_ would have no right to complain if people did shoot athim. "

"Not a bit of right, " says the boy. 

"But then there are some other things to be considered, " says the mother, "which, though they do not show that it would be unjust towards him, mightmake it bad for _us_ to shoot him. "

"What things?" asks the boy. 

The mother having candidly admitted whatever there was of truth in theboy's view of the subject, and thus placed herself, as it were, side byside with him, he is prepared to see and admit what she is going to pointout to his observation--not as something directly antagonistic to what hehas said, but as something additional, something which is _also_ to betaken into the account. 

"In the first place, " continues the mother, "there would be the body to bedisposed of, if you were to shoot him. How should we manage about that?"

It would make a great difference in such a case in respect to the dangerof putting the boy's mind into a state of antagonism against his mother'spresentation of the case, whether she says, "How shall _we_ manage aboutthat?" or, "How will _you_ manage about that?"

"Oh, " replies the boy, "we would send to where he lives, and let his peoplecome and take him away; or, if he was in a city, we would call in thepolice. "

"That would be a good plan, " says his mother. "We would call in the police, if there were any police at hand. But then there would be the blood allover the carpet and the floor. "

"There would not be any carpet on the floor in a store-room, " says the boy. 

"True, " replies the mother; "you are right there; so that there would notbe, after all, any great trouble about the blood. But the man might not bekilled outright, and it might be some time before the policemen would come, and we should see him all that time writhing and struggling in dreadfulconvulsions, which would fix horrid impressions upon our minds, that wouldhaunt us for a long time afterwards. "

The mother could then go on to explain that, if the man had a wife andchildren, any one who had killed the husband and father would pity them aslong as he lived, and could never see them or hear them spoken of withoutfeeling pain, and even some degree of self-reproach; although, so far asthe man himself was concerned, it might be that no injustice had been done. After the excitement was over, too, he would begin to make excuses for theman, thinking that perhaps he was poor, and his children were suffering forbread, and it was on their account that he was tempted to steal, and this, though it would not justify, might in some degree palliate the act forwhich he was slain; or that he had been badly brought up, having neverreceived any proper instruction, but had been trained and taught from hisboyhood to pilfer and steal. 

These and many analogous considerations might be presented to the child, going to show that, whatever the rule of strict justice in respect to thecriminal may enjoin, it is not right to take the life of a wrong-doermerely to prevent the commission of a minor offense. The law of the landrecognizes this principle, and does not justify the taking of life exceptin extreme cases, such as those of imminent personal danger. 

A friendly conversation of this kind, carried on, not in a spirit ofantagonism to what the boy has said, but in the form of presentinginformation novel to him in respect to considerations which were to betaken into the account in addition to those which he had himself perceived, will have a great effect not only in modifying his opinion in this case, but also in impressing him with the general idea that, before adopting adecisive opinion on any subject, we must take care to acquaint ourselvesnot merely with the most direct and obvious relations of it, but must lookfarther into its bearings and results, so that our conclusion may have asolid foundation by reposing upon as many as possible of the considerationswhich ought really to affect it. Thus, by avoiding all appearance ofantagonism, we secure a ready reception for the truths we offer, andcultivate the reasoning powers at the same time. 

_General Principles_. 

The principles, then, which are meant to be illustrated and enforced inthis chapter are these:

1. That the mental faculties of children on which the exercise of judgmentand of the power of reasoning depend are not among those which are theearliest developed, and they do not attain, in the first years of life, tosuch a degree of strength or maturity as to justify placing any seriousreliance upon them for the conduct of life. 

2. Parents should, accordingly, not put them to any serious test, or imposeany heavy burden upon them; but should rely solely on their own authority, as the expression of their own judgment, and not upon their ability toconvince the judgment of the child, in important cases, or in those whereits inclinations or its feelings are concerned. 

3. But they may greatly promote the healthy development of these facultieson the part of their children, by bringing to their view the less obviousbearings and relations of various acts and occurrences on which judgmentis to be passed, in cases where their feelings and inclinations are notspecially concerned--doing this either in the form of explaining their ownparental principles of management, or practically, by intrusting them withresponsibility, and giving them a degree of actual power commensurate withit, in cases where it is safe to do so; and, 4. They may enlarge the range of the children's ideas, and accustom them totake wider views of the various subjects which occupy their attention, bydiscussing with them the principles involved in the several cases; but suchdiscussions must be conducted in a calm, gentle, and considerate manner, the parent looking always upon what the child says in the most favorablelight, putting the best construction upon it, and admitting its force, and then presenting such additional views as ought also to be taken intoaccount, with moderate earnestness, and in an unobtrusive manner, thustaking short and easy steps himself in order to accommodate his own rate ofprogress to the still imperfectly developed capabilities of the child. 

In a word, it is with the unfolding of the mental faculties of the young asit is with the development of their muscles and the improvement of theirbodily powers; and just as the way to teach a child to walk is not to draghim along hurriedly and forcibly by the arm faster than he can himself formthe necessary steps, but to go slowly, accommodating your movements tothose which are natural to him, and encouraging him by letting him perceivethat his own efforts produce appreciable and useful results--so, incultivating any of their thinking and reasoning powers, we must not put atthe outset too heavy a burden upon them, but must call them gently intoaction, within the limits prescribed by the degree of maturity to whichthey have attained, standing a little aside, as it were, in doing so, andencouraging them to do the work themselves, instead of taking it out oftheir hands and doing it for them. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

WISHES AND REQUESTS. 

In respect to the course to be pursued in relation to the requests andwishes of children, the following general rules result from the principlesinculcated in the chapter on Judgment and Reasoning, or, at least, are inperfect accordance with them--namely:

_Absolute Authority in Cases of vital Importance_. 

1. In respect to all those questions in the decision of which theirpermanent and essential welfare are involved, such as those relating totheir health, the company they keep, the formation of their characters, theprogress of their education, and the like, the parent should establish andmaintain in the minds of the children from their earliest years, a distinctunderstanding that the decision of all such questions is reserved forhis own or her own exclusive jurisdiction. While on any of the detailsconnected with these questions the feelings and wishes of the child oughtto be ascertained, and, so far as possible, taken into the account, thecourse to be pursued should not, in general, be discussed with the child, nor should their objections be replied to in any form. The parent shouldsimply take such objections as the judge takes the papers in a case whichhas been tried before him, and reserve his decision. The principles bywhich the parent is governed in the course which he pursues, and thereasons for them, may be made the subject of very free conversation, andmay be fully explained, provided that care is taken that this is never donewhen any practical question is pending, such as would give the explanationsof the parent the aspect of persuasions, employed to supply the deficiencyof authority too weak to enforce obedience to a command. It is an excellentthing to have children see and appreciate the reasonableness of theirparents' commands, provided that this reasonableness is shown to them insuch a way that they are not led to imagine that their being able to see itis in any sense a condition precedent of obedience. 

_Great Indulgence in Cases not of vital Importance_. 

2. The authority of the parent being thus fully established in regard toall those things which, being of paramount importance in respect tothe child's present and future welfare, ought to be regulated by thecomparative far-seeing wisdom of the parent, with little regard to theevanescent fancies of the child, it is on every account best, in respect toall other things, to allow to the children the largest possible indulgence. The largest indulgence for them in their occupations, their plays, and evenin their caprices and the freaks of their fancy, means _freedom of action_for their unfolding powers of body and mind; and freedom of action forthese powers means the most rapid and healthy development of them. 

The rule is, in a word, that, after all that is essential for their health, the formation of their characters, and their progress in study is secured, by being brought under the dominion of absolute parental authority, inrespect to what remains the children are to be indulged and allowed to havetheir own way as much as possible. When, in their plays, they come to youfor permission to do a particular thing, do not consider whether or not itseems to you that you would like to do it yourself, but only whether thereis any _real and substantial objection to their doing it_. 

_The Hearing to come before the Decision, not after it_. 

The courts of justice adopt what seems to be a very sensible and a veryexcellent mode of proceeding, though it is exactly the contrary to the onewhich many parents pursue, and that is, they hear the case _first_, anddecide afterwards. A great many parents seem to prefer to decide first, andthen hear--that is to say, when the children come to them with any requestor proposal, they answer at once with a refusal more or less decided, andthen allow themselves to be led into a long discussion on the subject, ifdiscussion that may be called which consists chiefly of simple persistenceand importunity on one side, and a gradually relaxing resistance on theother, until a reluctant consent is finally obtained. 

Now, just as it is an excellent way to develop and strengthen the musclesof a child's arms, for his father to hold the two ends of his cane in hishands while the child grasps it by the middle, and then for them to pullagainst each other, about the yard, until, finally, the child is allowed toget the cane away; so the way to cherish and confirm the habit of "teasing"in children is to maintain a discussion with them for a time in respect tosome request which is at first denied, and then finally, after a protractedand gradually weakening resistance, to allow them to gain the victoryand carry their point. On the other hand, an absolutely certain way ofpreventing any such habit from being formed, and of effectually breaking itup when it is formed, is the simple process of hearing first, and decidingafterwards. 

When, therefore, children come with any request, or express any wish, incases where no serious interests are involved, in deciding upon the answerto be given, the mother should, in general, simply ask herself, not Is itwise? Will they succeed in it? Will they enjoy it? Would I like to do itif I were they?--but simply, Is there any harm or danger in it? If not, readily and cordially consent. But do not announce your decision till_after_ you have heard all that they have to say, if you intend to hearwhat they have to say at all. 

If there are any objections to what the children propose which affect thequestion in relation to it as a means of _amusement for them_, you maystate them in the way of information for them, _after_ you have given yourconsent. In that way you present the difficulties as subjects for theirconsideration, and not as objections on your part to their plan. But, however serious the difficulties may be in the way of the children'saccomplishing the object which they have in view, they constitute noobjection to their making the attempt, provided that their plans involve noserious harm or damage to themselves, or to any other person or interest. 

_The Wrong Way_. 

Two boys, for example, William and James, who have been playing in the yardwith their little sister Lucy, come in to their mother with a plan for afish-pond. They wish for permission to dig a hole in a corner of the yardand fill it with water, and then to get some fish out of the brook to putinto it. 

The mother, on hearing the proposal, says at once, without waiting for anyexplanations, "Oh no, I would not do that. It is a very foolish plan. You will only getyourselves all muddy. Besides, you can't catch any fishes to put into it, and if you do, they won't live. And then the grass is so thick that youcould not get it up to make your hole. "

But William says that they can dig the grass up with their little spades. They had tried it, and found that they could do so. 

And James says that they have already tried catching the fishes, and foundthat they could do it by means of a long-handled dipper; and Lucy says thatthey will all be very careful not to get themselves wet and muddy. 

"But you'll get your feet wet standing on the edge of the brook, " says themother. "You can't help it. "

"No, mother, " replies James, "there is a large flat stone that we can standupon, and so keep our feet perfectly dry. See!"

So saying, he shows his own feet, which are quite dry. 

Thus the discussion goes on; the objections made--being, as usual in suchcases, half of them imaginary ones, brought forward only for effect--areone after another disposed of, or at least set aside, until at length themother, as if beaten off her ground after a contest, gives a reluctant andhesitating consent, and the children go away to commence their work onlyhalf pleased, and separated in heart and affection, for the time being, from their mother by not finding in her, as they think, any sympathy withthem, or disposition to aid them in their pleasures. 

They have, however, by their mother's management of the case, received anexcellent lesson in arguing and teasing. They have found by it, what theyhave undoubtedly often found on similar occasions before, that theirmother's first decision is not at all to be taken as a final one; that theyhave only to persevere in replying to her objections and answering herarguments, and especially in persisting in their importunity, and they willbe pretty sure to gain their end at last. 

This mode of management, also, has the effect of fixing the position oftheir mother in their minds as one of antagonism to them in respect totheir childish pleasures. 

_The Right Way_. 

If in such a case as this the mother wishes to avoid these evils, the wayis plain. She must first consider the proposal herself, and come to her owndecision in regard to it. Before coming to a decision, she may, if shehas leisure and opportunity, make additional inquiries in respect to thedetails of the plan; or, if she is otherwise occupied, she may considerthem for a moment in her own mind. If the objections are decisive, sheshould not state them at the time, unless she specially wishes them not tohave a fair hearing; for when children have a plan in mind which they areeager to carry out, their very eagerness entirely incapacitates them forproperly appreciating any objections which may be offered to it. It is onevery account better, therefore--as a general rule--not to offer any suchobjections at the time, but simply to give your decision. 

On the other hand, if there is no serious evil to be apprehended inallowing children to attempt to carry any particular plan they form intoeffect, the foolishness of it, in a practical point of view, or even theimpossibility of success in accomplishing the object proposed, constituteno valid objection to it; for children amuse themselves as much, andsometimes learn as much, and promote as effectually the development oftheir powers and faculties, by their failures as by their successes. 

In the case supposed, then, the mother, in order to manage it right, wouldfirst consider for a moment whether there was any decisive objection to theplan. This would depend, perhaps, upon the manner in which the childrenwere dressed at the time, or upon the amount of injury that would be doneto the yard; and this question would in its turn depend, in many cases, onthe comparative value set by the mother upon the beauty of her yard, andthe health, development, and happiness of her children. But supposing thatshe sees--which she can do in most instances at a glance--that there can noserious harm be done by the experiment, but only that it is a foolish planso far as the attainment of the object is concerned, and utterly hopelessof success, which, considering that the real end to be attained is thehealthy development of the children's powers by the agreeable exercise ofthem in useless as well as in useful labors, is no objection at all, thenshe should answer at once, "Yes, you can do that if you like; and perhaps Ican help you about planning the work. "

After saying this, any pointing out of obstacles and difficulties on herpart does not present itself to their minds in the light of opposition totheir plan, but of aid in helping it forward, and so places her, in theirview, _on their side_, instead of in antagonism to them. 

"What do you propose to do with the earth that you take out of the hole?"she asks. 

The children had, perhaps, not thought of that. 

"How would it do, " continues the mother, "to put it in your wheelbarrow andlet it stay there, so that in case your plan should not succeed--and men, in any thing that they undertake, always consider it wise to take intoaccount the possibility that they may not succeed--you can easily bring itall back and fill up the hole again. "

The children think that would be a very good plan. 

"And how are you going to fill your hole with water when you get it dugout?" asks the mother. 

They were going to carry the water from the pump in a pail. 

"And how are you going to prevent spilling the water over upon yourtrousers and into your shoes while carrying it?"

"Oh, we will be very careful, " replied William. 

"How would it do only to fill the pail half full each time, " suggests themother. "You would have to go more times, it is true, but that would bebetter than getting splashed with water. "

The boys think that that would be a very good plan. 

In this manner the various difficulties to be anticipated may be brought tothe notice of the children, while, they and their mother being in harmonyand sympathy with each other--and not in opposition--in the considerationof them, she can bring them forward without any difficulty, and make themthe means of teaching the children many useful lessons of prudence andprecaution. 

_Capriciousness in Play_. 

The mother, then, after warning the children that they must expect toencounter many unexpected difficulties in their undertaking, and tellingthem that they must not be too much disappointed if they should find thatthey could not succeed, dismisses them to their work. They proceed to digthe hole, putting the materials in the wheelbarrow, and then fill up thehole with water brought in half pailfuls at a time from the pump; but aresomewhat disappointed to find that the water soaks away pretty rapidly intothe ground, and that, moreover, it is so turbid, and the surface is socovered with little leaves, sticks, and dust, as to make it appear verydoubtful whether they would be able to see the fishes if they were tosucceed in catching any to put in. However, they take their long-handleddipper and proceed towards the brook. On the way they stop to gather someflowers that grow near the path that leads through the field, when the ideasuddenly enters Lucy's head that it would be better to make a garden thana fish-pond; flowers, as she says, being so much prettier than fishes. Sothey all go back to their mother and explain the change of their plan. Theyask for leave to dig up a place which they had found where the ground wasloose and sandy, and easy to dig, and to set out flowers in it which theyhad found in the field already in bloom. "We are going to give up thefish-pond, " they say in conclusion, "because flowers are so much prettierthan fishes. "

The mother, instead of finding fault with them for being so capricious andchangeable in their plans, says, "I think you are right. Fishes look prettyenough when they are swimming in the brook, but flowers are much prettierto transport and take care of. But first go and fill up the hole you madefor the pond with the earth that is in the wheelbarrow; and when you havemade your garden and moved the flowers into it, I advise you to get thewatering-pot and give them a good watering. "

It may be said that children ought to be brought up in habits of steadinessand perseverance in what they undertake, and that this kind of indulgencein their capriciousness would have a very bad tendency in this respect. Theanswer is, that there are times and seasons for all the different kindsof lessons which children have to learn, and that when in their hours ofrecreation they are amusing themselves in play, lessons in perseverance andsystem are out of place. The object to be sought for _then_ is the exerciseand growth of their bodily organs and members, the development of theirfancy and imagination, and their powers of observation of nature. The workof training them to habits of system and of steady perseverance inserious pursuits, which, though it is a work that ought by no means to beneglected, is not the appropriate work of such a time. 

_Summary of Results_. 

The general rules for the government of the parent in his treatment ofhis children's requests and wishes are these: In all matters of essentialimportance he is to decide himself and simply announce his decision, without giving any reasons _for the purpose of justifying it_, or for_inducing submission to it_. 

And in all matters not of essential importance he is to allow the childrenthe greatest possible freedom of action. 

And the rule for children is that they are always to obey the command thefirst time it is given, without question, and to take the first answer toany request without any objection or demurring whatever. 

It is very easy to see how smoothly and happily the affairs of domesticgovernment would go on if these rules were established and obeyed. All thatis required on the part of parents for their complete establishment is, first, a clear comprehension of them, and then a calm, quiet, and gentle, but still inflexible firmness in maintaining them. Unfortunately, however, such qualities as these, simple as they seem, are the most rare. If, instead of gentle but firm consistency and steadiness of action, ardent, impulsive, and capricious energy and violence were required, it would becomparatively easy to find them. How seldom do we see a mother's managementof her children regulated by a calm, quiet, gentle, and consideratedecision that thinks before it speaks in all important matters, and when itspeaks, is firm; and yet, which readily and gladly accords to the childrenevery liberty and indulgence which can do themselves or others no harm. Andon the other hand, how often do we see foolish laxity and indulgence inyielding to importunity in cases of vital importance, alternating withvexatious thwartings, rebuffs, and refusals in respect to desires andwishes the gratification of which could do no injury at all. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

CHILDREN'S QUESTIONS. 

The disposition to ask questions, which is so universal and so strong acharacteristic of childhood, is the open door which presents to the motherthe readiest and most easy access possible to the mind and heart of herchild. The opportunities and facilities thus afforded to her would be thesource of the greatest pleasure to herself, and of the greatest benefitto her child, if she understood better how to avail herself of them. Ipropose, in this chapter, to give some explanations and general directionsfor the guidance of mothers, of older brothers and sisters, and ofteachers--of all persons, in fact, who may, from time to time, have youngchildren under their care or in their society. I have no doubt that some ofmy rules will strike parents, at first view, as paradoxical and, perhaps, almost absurd; but I hope that on more mature reflection they will be foundto be reasonable and just. 

_The Curiosity of Children not a Fault_. 

1. The curiosity of children is not a fault, and therefore we must nevercensure them for asking questions, or lead them to think that we considerthe disposition to do so a fault on their part; but, on the other hand, this disposition is to be encouraged as much as possible. 

We must remember that a child, when his powers of observation begin to bedeveloped, finds every thing around him full of mystery and wonder. Whysome things are hard and some are soft--why some things will roll and somewill not--why he is not hurt when he falls on the sofa, and is hurt when hefalls on the floor--why a chair will tumble over when he climbs up by therounds of it, while yet the steps of the stairs remain firm and can beascended without danger--why one thing is black, and another red, andanother green--why water will all go away of itself from his hands or hisdress, while mud will not--why he can dig in the ground, but can not digin a floor--all is a mystery, and the little adventurer is in a continualstate of curiosity and wonder, not only to learn the meaning of all thesethings, but also of desire to extend his observations, and find out moreand more of the astonishing phenomena that are exhibited around him. Thegood feeling of the mother, or of any intelligent friend who is willingto aid him in his efforts, is, of course, invaluable to him as a means ofpromoting his advancement in knowledge and of developing his powers. 

Remember, therefore, that the disposition of a child to ask questions isnot a fault, but only an indication of his increasing mental activity, and of his desire to avail himself of the only means within his reach ofadvancing his knowledge and of enlarging the scope of his intelligence inrespect to the strange and wonderful phenomena constantly observable aroundhim. 

_Sometimes, perhaps, a Source of Inconvenience_. 

Of course there will be times when it is inconvenient for the parent toattend to the questions of the child, and when he must, consequently, bedebarred of the pleasure and privilege of asking them; but even at suchtimes as these the disposition to ask them must not be attributed to him asa fault. Never tell him that he is "a little tease"--that "you are tiredto death of answering his questions"--that he is "a chatter-box that wouldweary the patience of Job;" or that, if he will "sit still for half anhour, without speaking a word, you will give him a reward. " If you aregoing to be engaged, and so can not attend to him, say to him that you_wish_ you could talk with him, and answer the questions, but that you aregoing to be busy and can not do it; and then, after providing him with someother means of occupation, require him to be silent: though even then youought to relieve the tedium of silence for him by stopping every ten orfifteen minutes from your reading, or your letter-writing, or the planningof your work, or whatever your employment may be, and giving your attentionto him for a minute or two, and affording him an opportunity to relieve thepressure on his mind by a little conversation. 

_Answers to be short and simple_. 

2. Give generally to children's questions the shortest and simplest answerspossible. 

One reason why parents find the questions of children so fatiguing to them, is that _they attempt too much_ in their answers. If they would give theright kind of answers, they would find the work of replying very easy, and in most of their avocations it would occasion them very littleinterruption. These short and simple answers are all that a child requires. A full and detailed explanation of any thing they ask about is as tiresomefor them to listen to as it is for the mother to frame and give; while ashort and simple reply which advances them one step in their knowledge ofthe subject is perfectly easy for the mother to give, and is, at the sametime, all that they wish to receive. 

For example, let us suppose that the father and mother are taking a ride ona summer afternoon after a shower, with little Johnny sitting upon the seatbetween them in the chaise. The parents are engaged in conversation witheach other, we will suppose, and would not like to be interrupted. Johnnypresently spies a rainbow on a cloud in the east, and, after uttering anexclamation of delight, asks his mother what made the rainbow. She hearsthe question, and her mind, glancing for a moment at the difficulty ofgiving an intelligible explanation of so grand a phenomenon to such achild, experiences an obscure sensation of perplexity and annoyance, butnot quite enough to take off her attention from her conversation; so shegoes on and takes no notice of Johnny's inquiry. Johnny, accordingly, soonrepeats it, "Mother! mother! what makes the rainbow?"

At length her attention is forced to the subject, and she either tellsJohnny that she can't explain it to him--that he is not old enough tounderstand it; or, perhaps, scolds him for interrupting her with so manyteasing questions. 

In another such case, the mother, on hearing the question, pauses longenough to look kindly and with a smile of encouragement upon her facetowards Johnny, and to say simply, "The sun, " and then goes on with herconversation. Johnny says "Oh!" in a tone of satisfaction. It is a new andgrand idea to him that the sun makes the rainbow, and it is enough to fillhis mind with contemplation for several minutes, during which his parentsgo on without interruption in their talk. Presently Johnny asks again, "Mother, _how_ does the sun make the rainbow?"

His mother answers in the same way as before, "By shining on the cloud:"and, leaving that additional idea for Johnny to reflect upon andreceive fully into his mind, turns again to her husband and resumes herconversation with him after a scarcely perceptible interruption. 

Johnny, after having reflected in silence some minutes, during which he haslooked at the sun and at the rainbow, and observed that the cloud on whichthe arch is formed is exactly opposite to the sun, and fully exposed to hisbeams, is prepared for another step, and asks, "Mother, how does the sun make a rainbow by shining on the cloud?"

His mother replies that it shines on millions of little drops of rain inthe cloud, and makes them of all colors, like drops of dew on the ground, and all the colors together make the rainbow. 

Here are images presented to Johnny's mind enough to occupy his thoughtsfor a considerable interval, when perhaps he will have another questionstill, to be answered by an equally short and simple reply; though, probably, by this time his curiosity will have become satisfied in respectto his subject of inquiry, and his attention will have been arrested bysome other object. 

To answer the child's questions in this way is so easy, and the pauseswhich the answers lead to on the part of the questioner are usually solong, that very little serious interruption is occasioned by them to anyof the ordinary pursuits in which a mother is engaged; and the littleinterruption which is caused is greatly overbalanced by the pleasure whichthe mother will experience in witnessing the gratification and improvementof the child, if she really loves him, and is seriously interested in thedevelopment of his thinking and reasoning powers. 

_Answers should attempt to communicate but little Instruction_. 

3. The answers which are given to children should not only be short andsimple in form, but each one should be studiously designed to communicateas small an amount of information as possible. 

[Illustration: "MOTHER, WHAT MAKES IT SNOW?"]

This may seem, at first view, a strange idea, but the import of it simplyis that, in giving the child his intellectual nourishment, you must act asyou do in respect to his bodily food--that is, divide what he is to receiveinto small portions, and administer a little at a time. If you give him toomuch at once in either case, you are in danger of choking him. 

For example, Johnny asks some morning in the early winter, when the firstsnow is falling, and he has been watching it for some time from the windowin wonder and delight, "Mother, what makes it snow?" Now, if the motherimagines that she must give any thing like a full answer to the question, her attention must be distracted from her work to enable her to frame it;and if she does not give up the attempt altogether, and rebuke the boy forteasing her with "so many silly questions, " she perhaps suspends her work, and, after a moment's perplexing thought, she says the vapor of the waterfrom the rivers and seas and damp ground rises into the air, and there atlast congeals into flakes of snow, and these fall through the air to theground. 

The boy listens and attempts to understand the explanation, but he isbewildered and lost in the endeavor to take in at once this extendedand complicated process--one which is, moreover, not only extended andcomplicated, but which is composed of elements all of which are entirelynew to him. 

If the mother, however, should act on the principle of communicating assmall a portion of the information required as it is possible to givein one answer, Johnny's inquiry would lead, probably, to a conversationsomewhat like the following, the answers on the part of the mother being soshort and simple as to require no perceptible thought on her part, andso occasioning no serious interruption to her work, unless it should besomething requiring special attention. 

"Mother, " asks Johnny, "what makes it snow?"

"It is the snow-flakes coming down out of the sky, " says his mother. "Watchthem!"

"Oh!" says Johnny, uttering the child's little exclamation of satisfaction. He looks at the flakes as they fall, catching one after another with hiseye, and following it in its meandering descent. He will, perhaps, occupyhimself several minutes in silence and profound attention, in bringingfully to his mind the idea that a snow-storm consists of a mass ofdescending flakes of snow falling through the air. To us, who are familiarwith this fact, it seems nothing to observe this, but to him the analyzingof the phenomenon, which before he had looked upon as one grand spectaclefilling the whole sky, and only making an impression on his mind by itsgeneral effect, and resolving it into its elemental parts of individualflakes fluttering down through the air, is a great step. It is a step whichexercises his nascent powers of observation and reflection very deeply, andgives him full occupation for quite a little interval of time. At length, when he has familiarized himself with this idea, he asks again, perhaps, "Where do the flakes come from, mother?"

"Out of the sky. "

"Oh!" says Johnny again, for the moment entirely satisfied. 

One might at first think that these words would be almost unmeaning, or, atleast, that they would give the little questioner no real information. Butthey do give him information that is both important and novel. They advancehim one step in his inquiry. Out of the sky means, to him, from a greatheight. The words give him to understand that the flakes are not formedwhere they first come into his view, but that they descend from a higherregion. After reflecting on this idea a moment, he asks, we will suppose, "How high in the sky, mother?"

Now, perhaps, a mother might think that there was no possible answer to begiven to such a question as this except that "she does not know;" inasmuchas few persons have any accurate ideas of the elevation in the atmosphereat which snow-clouds usually form. But this accurate information is notwhat the child requires. If the mother possessed it, it would be uselessfor her to attempt to communicate it to him. In the sense in which heasks the question she _does_ understand it, and can give him a perfectlysatisfactory answer. 

"How high is it in the sky, mother, to where the snow comes from?" asks thechild. 

"Oh, _very_ high--higher than the top of the house, " replies the mother. 

"As high as the top of the chimney?"

"Yes, higher than that. "

"As high as the moon?"

"No, not so high as the moon. "

"How high is it then, mother?"

"About as high as birds can fly. "

"Oh!" says Johnny, perfectly satisfied. 

The answer is somewhat indefinite, it is true, but its indefiniteness isthe chief element in the value of it. A definite and precise answer, evenif one of that character were ready at hand, would be utterly inappropriateto the occasion. 

_An Answer may even be good which gives no Information at all_. 

4. It is not even always necessary that an answer to a child's questionshould convey _any information at all_. A little conversation on thesubject of the inquiry, giving the child an opportunity _to hear and to uselanguage_ in respect to it, is often all that is required. 

It must be remembered that the power to express thoughts, or to representexternal objects by language, is a new power to young children, and, likeall other new powers, the mere exercise of it gives great pleasure. If aperson in full health and vigor were suddenly to acquire the art of flying, he would take great pleasure in moving, by means of his wings, throughthe air from one high point to another, not because he had any object invisiting those high points, but because it would give him pleasure to findthat he could do so, and to exercise his newly acquired power. So withchildren in their talk. They talk often, perhaps generally, for the sake ofthe _pleasure of talking_, not for the sake of what they have to say. So, if you will only talk with them and allow them to talk to you about anything that interests them, they are pleased, whether you communicate tothem any new information or not. This single thought, once fully understoodby a mother, will save her a great deal of trouble in answering theincessant questions of her children. The only essential thing in many casesis to _say something_ in reply to the question, no matter whether what yousay communicates any information or not. 

If a child asks, for instance, what makes the stars shine so, and hismother answers, "Because they are so bright, " he will be very likely to beas well satisfied as if she attempted to give a philosophical explanationof the phenomenon. So, if he asks what makes him see himself in thelooking-glass, she may answer, "You see an _image_ of yourself there. Theycall it an image. Hold up a book and see if you can see an image of that inthe glass too. " He is pleased and satisfied. Nor are such answers useless, as might at first be supposed. They give the child practice in the use oflanguage, and, if properly managed, they may be made the means of greatlyextending his knowledge of language and, by necessary consequence, of theideas and realities which language represents. 

"Father, " says Mary, as she is walking with her father in the garden, "whatmakes some roses white and some red?" "It is very curious, is it not?" saysher father. "Yes, father, it is very curious indeed. What makes it so?""There must be _some_ cause for it" says her father. "And the apples thatgrow on some trees are sweet, and on others they are sour. That is curioustoo. " "Yes, very curious indeed, " says Mary. "The _leaves_ of trees seem tobe always green, " continues her father, "though the flowers are of variouscolors. " "Yes, father, " says Mary. "Except, " adds her father, "when theyturn yellow, and red, and brown, in the fall of the year. "

A conversation like this, without attempting any thing like an answer tothe question with which it commenced, is as satisfactory to the child, andperhaps as useful in developing its powers and increasing its knowledgeof language, as any attempt to explain the phenomenon would be; and theknowledge of this will make it easy for the mother to dispose of many aquestion which might seriously interrupt her if she conceived it necessaryeither to attempt a satisfactory explanation of the difficulty, or not toanswer it at all. 

_Be always ready to say "I don't know_. "

5. The mother should be always ready and willing to say "I don't know, " inanswer to children's questions. 

Parents and teachers are very often somewhat averse to this, lest, byoften confessing their own ignorance, they should lower themselves in theestimation of their pupils or their children. So they feel bound to givesome kind of an explanation to every difficulty, in hopes that it maysatisfy the inquirer, though it does not satisfy themselves. But this isa great mistake. The sooner that pupils and children understand that thefield of knowledge is utterly boundless, and that it is only a very smallportion of it that their superiors in age and attainment have yet explored, the better for all concerned. The kind of superiority, in the estimation ofchildren, which it is chiefly desirable to attain, consists in their alwaysfinding that the explanation which we give, whenever we attempt any, is_clear, fair_, and _satisfactory_, not in our being always ready to offeran explanation, whether satisfactory or not. 

_Questions on Religious Subjects. _

The considerations presented in this chapter relate chiefly to thequestions which children ask in respect to what they observe taking placearound them in external nature. There is another class of questions anddifficulties which they raise--namely, those that relate to religiousand moral subjects; and to these I have not intended now to refer. Theinquiries which children make on these subjects arise, in a great measure, from the false and puerile conceptions which they are so apt to form inrespect to spiritual things, and from which they deduce all sorts ofabsurdities. The false conceptions in which their difficulties originateare due partly to errors and imperfections in our modes of teaching themon these subjects, and partly to the immaturity of their powers, whichincapacitates them from clearly comprehending any elements of thought thatlie beyond the direct cognizance of the senses. We shall, however, haveoccasion to refer to this subject in another chapter. 

In respect, however, to all that class of questions which children ask inrelation to the visible world around them, the principles here explainedmay render the mother some aid in her intercourse with the little learnersunder her charge, if she clearly understands and intelligently appliesthem. And she will find the practice of holding frequent conversationswith them, in these ways, a source of great pleasure to her, as well asof unspeakable advantage to them. Indeed, the conversation of a kindand intelligent mother is far the most valuable and important means ofeducation for a child during many years of its early life. A boy whosemother is pleased to have him near her, who likes to hear and answer hisquestions, to watch the gradual development of his thinking and reasoningpowers, and to enlarge and extend his knowledge of language--thusnecessarily and of course expanding the range and scope of his ideas--willfind that though his studies, strictly so called--that is, his learning toread, and the committing to memory lessons from books--may be deferred, yet, when he finally commences them he will go at once to the head of hisclasses at school, through the superior strength and ampler developmentwhich his mental powers will have attained. 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE USE OF MONEY. 

The money question in the management and training of children has adistinct bearing on the subjects of some of the preceding chapters. It isextremely important, first, in respect to opportunities which are affordedin connection with the use of money for cultivating and developing thequalities of sound judgment and of practical wisdom; and then, in thesecond place, the true course to be pursued with them in respect to moneyforms a special point to be considered in its bearing upon the subject ofthe proper mode of dealing with their wishes and requests. 

_Evil Results of a very Common Method_. 

If a parent wishes to eradicate from the mind of his boy all feelings ofdelicacy and manly pride, to train him to the habit of obtaining what hewants by importunity or servility, and to prevent his having any means ofacquiring any practical knowledge of the right use of money, any principlesof economy, or any of that forethought and thrift so essential to sureprosperity in future life, the best way to accomplish these ends would seemto be to have no system in supplying him with money in his boyish days, butto give it to him only when he asks for it, and in quantities determinedonly by the frequency and importunity of his calls. 

Of course under such a system the boy has no inducement to take care ofhis money, to form any plans of expenditure, to make any calculations, topractise self-denial to-day for the sake of a greater good to-morrow. Thesource of supply from which he draws money, fitful and uncertain as it maybe in what it yields to him, he considers unlimited; and as the amountwhich he can draw from it does not depend at all upon his frugality, hisforesight, or upon any incipient financial skill that he may exercise, butsolely upon his adroitness in coaxing, or his persistence in importunity, it is the group of bad qualities, and not the good, which such managementtends to foster. The effect of such a system is, in other words, not toencourage the development and growth of those qualities on which thrift andforehandedness in the management of his affairs in future life, and, inconsequence, his success and prosperity, depend; but, on the contrary, tocherish the growth of all the mean and ignoble propensities of human natureby accustoming him, so far as relates to this subject, to gain his ends bythe arts of a sycophant, or by rude pertinacity. 

Not that this system always produces these results. It may be, and perhapsgenerally is, greatly modified by other influences acting upon the mind ofthe child at the same time, as well as by the natural tendencies of theboy's character, and by the character and general influence upon him of hisfather and mother in other respects. It can not be denied, however, thatthe above is the tendency of a system which makes a boy's income ofspending-money a matter of mere chance, on which no calculations can befounded, except so far as he can increase it by adroit manoeuvring or byasking for it directly, with more or less of urgency or persistence, as thecase may require; that is to say, by precisely those means which are themost ignoble and most generally despised by honorably-minded men as meansfor the attainment of any human end. 

Now one of the most important parts of the education of both girls andboys, whether they are to inherit riches, or to enjoy a moderate incomefrom the fruits of their own industry, or to spend their lives in extremepoverty, is to teach them the proper management and use of money. And thismay be very effectually done by giving them a fixed and definite income tomanage, and then throwing upon them the responsibility of the management ofit, with such a degree of guidance, encouragement, and aid as a parent caneasily render. 

_Objection to the Plan of a regular Allowance_. 

There are no parents among those who will be likely to read this book ofresources so limited that they will not, from time to time, allow theirchildren _some_ amount of spending-money in a year. All that is necessary, therefore, is to appropriate to them this amount and pay it to them, orcredit them with it, in a business-like and regular manner. It is true thatby this system the children will soon begin to regard their monthly orweekly allowance as their due; and the parent will lose the pleasure, ifit is any pleasure to him or her, of having the money which they givethem regarded in each case as a present, and received with a sense ofobligation. This is sometimes considered an objection to this plan. "WhenI furnish my children with money, " says the parent, "as a gratification, Iwish to have the pleasure of _giving_ it to them. Whereas, on this proposedplan of paying it to them regularly at stated intervals, they will cometo consider each payment as simply the payment of a debt. I wish them toconsider it as a gratuity on my part, so that it may awaken gratitude andrenew their love for me. "

There is some seeming force in this objection, though it is true that theadoption of the plan of a systematic appropriation, as here recommended, does not prevent the making of presents of money, or of any thing else, tothe children, whenever either parent desires to do so. Still the plan willnot generally be adopted, except by parents in whose minds the laying ofpermanent foundations for their children's welfare and happiness throughlife, by training them from their earliest years to habits of forecast andthrift, and the exercise of judgment and skill in the management of money, is entirely paramount to any petty sentimental gratification to themselves, while the children are young. 

_Two Methods_. 

In case the parent--it may be either the father or the mother--decides toadopt the plan of appropriating systematically and regularly a certainsum to be at the disposal of the child, there are two modes by which thebusiness may be transacted--one by paying over the money itself in theamounts and at the stated periods determined upon, and the other by openingan account with the child, and giving him credit from time to time for theamount due, charging on the other side the amounts which he draws. 

1. _Paying the money_. This is the simplest plan. If it is adopted, themoney must be ready and be paid at the appointed time with the utmostexactitude and certainty. Having made the arrangement with a child that heis to have a certain sum--six cents, twelve cents, twenty-five cents, ormore, as the case may be--every Saturday night, the mother--if it is themother who has charge of the execution of the plan--must consider it asacred debt, and must be _always_ ready. She can not expect that herchildren will learn regularity, punctuality, and system in the managementof their money affairs, if she sets them the example of laxity andforgetfulness in fulfilling her engagements, and offering excuses fornon-payment when the time comes, instead of having the money ready when itis due. The money, when paid, should not, in general, be carried by thechildren about the person, but they should be provided with a purse orother safe receptacle, which, however, should be entirely in their custody, and so exposed to all the accidents to which any carelessness in thecustody would expose it. The mother must remember that the very object ofthe plan is to have the children learn by experience to take care of moneythemselves, and that she defeats that object by virtually relieving themof this care. It should, therefore, be paid to them with the greatestpunctuality, especially at the first introduction of the system, and withthe distinct understanding that the charge and care of keeping it devolvesentirely upon them from the time of its passing into their hands. 

2. _Opening an account_. The second plan, and one that will prove much themost satisfactory in its working--though many mothers will shrink from iton the ground that it would make them a great deal of trouble--is to keepan account. For this purpose a small book should be made, with as manyleaves as there are children, so that for each account there can be twopages. The book should be ruled for accounts, and the name of each childshould be entered at the head of the two pages appropriated to his account. Then, from time to time, the amount of his allowance that has fallen dueshould be entered on the credit side, and any payment made to him on theother. 

The plan of keeping an account in this way obviates the necessity of payingmoney at stated times, for the account will show at any time how much isdue. 

There are some advantages in each of these modes. Much depends on the ageof the children, and still more upon the facilities which the father ormother have at hand for making entries in writing. To a man of business, accustomed to accounts, who could have a book made small enough to go intohis wallet, or to a mother who is systematic in her habits, and has in herwork-table or her secretary facilities for writing at any time, the planof opening an account will be found much the best. It will afford anopportunity of giving the children a great deal of useful knowledge inrespect to account-keeping--or, rather, by habituating them from an earlyage to the management of their affairs in this systematic manner, willtrain them from the beginning to habits of system and exactness. A veryperceptible effect in this direction will be produced on the minds ofchildren, even while they have not yet learned to read, and so can notunderstand at all the written record made of their pecuniary transactions. They will, at any rate, understand that a written record is made; they willtake a certain pride and pleasure in it, and impressions will be producedwhich may have an effect upon their habits of accuracy and system in theirpecuniary transactions through all future life. 

_Interest on Balances_. 

One great advantage of the plan of having an account over that of payingcash at stated times is, that it affords an opportunity for the father ormother to allow interest for any balances left from time to time in theirhands, so as to initiate the children into a knowledge of the nature andthe advantages of productive investments, and familiarize them with theidea that money reserved has within it a principle of increase. Theinterest allowed should be altogether greater than the regular rate, so asto make the advantage of it in the case of such small sums appreciableto the children--but not too great. Some judgment and discretion must beexercised on this as on all other points connected with the system. 

The arrangements for the keeping of an account being made, and the accountopened, there is, of course, no necessity, as in the case of payments madesimply in cash, that the business should be transacted at stated times. Atany time when convenient, the entry may be made of the amount which hasbecome due since the time of the last entry. And when, from time to time, the child wishes for money, the parent will look at his account and see ifthere is a balance to his credit. If there is, the child will be entitledto receive whatever he desires up to the amount of the balance. Once in amonth, or at any other times when convenient, the account can be settled, and the balance, with the accrued interest, carried to a new account. 

All this, instead of being a trouble, will only be a source of interest andpleasure to the parent, as well as to the children themselves, and, withoutoccupying any sensible portion of time, will be the means of graduallycommunicating a great deal of very useful instruction. 

_Employment of the Money_. 

It will have a great effect in "training up children in the way in whichthey should go, " in respect to the employment of money, if a rule is madefor them that a certain portion, one-quarter or one-half, for example, ofall the money which comes into their possession, both from their regularallowance and from gratuities, is to be laid aside as a permanentinvestment, and an account at some Savings Bank be opened, or some otherformal mode of placing it be adopted--the bank-book or other documentaryevidence of the amount so laid up to be deposited among the child'streasures. 

In respect to the other portion of the money--namely, that which is to beemployed by the children themselves as spending-money, the disbursementof it should be left _entirely at their discretion_, subject only to therestriction that they are not to buy any thing that will be injurious ordangerous to themselves, or a means of disturbance or annoyance to others. The mother may give them any information or any counsel in regard to theemployment of their money, provided she does not do it in the form ofexpressing any _wish_, on her part, in regard to it. For the very objectof the whole plan is to bring out into action, and thus to develop andstrengthen, the judgment and discretion of the child; and just as childrencan not learn to walk by always being carried, so they can not learn to begood managers without having the responsibility of actual management, on ascale adapted to their years, thrown really upon them. If a boy wishesto buy a bow and arrow, it may in some cases be right not to give himpermission to do it, on account of the danger accompanying the use of sucha plaything. But if he wishes to buy a kite which the mother is satisfiedis too large for him to manage, or if she thinks there are so many treesabout the house that he can not prevent its getting entangled in them, shemust not object to it on that account. She can explain these dangers to theboy, if he is inclined to listen, but not in a way to show that she herselfwishes him not to buy the kite. "Those are the difficulties which you maymeet with, " she may say, "but you may buy the kite if you think best. "

Then when he meets with the difficulties, when he finds that he can notmanage the kite, or that he loses it among the trees, she must not triumphover him, and say, "I told you how it would be. You would not take myadvice, and now you see how it is. " On the contrary, she must help him, andtry to alleviate his disappointment, saying, "Never mind. It is a loss, certainly. But you did what you thought was best at the time, and we allmeet with losses sometimes, even when we have done what we thought wasbest. You will make a great many other mistakes, probably, hereafterin spending money, and meet with losses; and this one will give you anopportunity of learning to bear them like a man. "

_The most implicit Faith to be kept with Children in Money Transactions_. 

I will not say that a father, if he is a man of business, ought to be asjealous of his credit with his children as he is of his credit at the bank;but I think, if he takes a right view of the subject, he will be extremelysensitive in respect to both. If he is a man of high and honorablesentiments, and especially if he looks forward to future years when hischildren shall have arrived at maturity, or shall be approaching towardsit, and sees how important and how delicate the pecuniary relations betweenhimself and them may be at that time, he will feel the importance ofbeginning by establishing, at the very commencement, not only by means ofprecept, but by example, a habit of precise, systematic, and scrupulousexactitude in the fulfillment of every pecuniary obligation. It is notnecessary that he should do any thing mean or small in his dealings withthem in order to accomplish this end. He may be as liberal and as generouswith them in many ways as he pleases, but he must keep his accounts withthem correctly. He must always, without any demurring or any excuse, beready to fulfill his engagements, and teach them to fulfill theirs. 

_Possible Range of Transactions between Parents and Children_. 

The parent, after having initiated his children into the regulartransaction of business by his mode of managing their allowance-fund, mayvery advantageously extend the benefits of the system by engaging with themfrom time to time in other affairs, to be regulated in a business-like andsystematic manner. For example, if one of his boys has been reserving aportion of his spending-money as a watch-fund, and has already half enoughfor the purchase, the father may offer to lend him the balance and take amortgage of the watch, to stand until the boy shall have taken it up out offuture savings; and he can make out a mortgage-deed expressing in a few andsimple words the fact that the watch is pledged to him as security for thesum advanced, and is not to become the absolute property of the boy tillthe money for which it is pledged is paid. In the course of years, a greatnumber of transactions in this way may take place between the father ormother and their boy, each of which will not only be a source of interestand enjoyment to both parties, but will afford the best possible means ofimparting, not only to the child directly interested in them, but to theother children, a practical knowledge of financial transactions, and offorming in them the habit of conducting all their affairs in a systematicand business-like manner. 

The number and variety of such transactions in which the modes of doingbusiness among men may be imitated with children, greatly to theirenjoyment and interest, is endless. I could cite an instance when what wascalled a bank was in operation for many years among a certain number ofchildren, with excellent effect. One was appointed president, anothercashier, another paying-teller. There was a ledger under the charge of thecashier, with a list of stockholders, and the number of shares held byeach, which was in proportion to the respective ages of the children. Thebank building was a little toy secretary, something in the form of a safe, into which there mysteriously appeared, from time to time, small sums ofmoney; the stockholders being as ignorant of the source from which theprofits of the bank were derived as most stockholders probably are in thecase of larger and more serious institutions. Once in six months, or atother periods, the money was counted, a dividend was declared, and thestockholders were paid in a regular and business-like manner. 

The effect of such methods as these is not only to make the years ofchildhood pass more pleasantly, but also to prepare them to enter, whenthe time comes, upon the serious business of life with some considerableportion of that practical wisdom in the management of money which is often, when it is deferred to a later period, acquired only by bitter experienceand through much suffering. 

Indeed, any parent who appreciates and fully enters into the viewspresented in this chapter will find, in ordinary cases, that his childrenmake so much progress in business capacity that he can extend the system soas to embrace subjects of real and serious importance before the childrenarrive at maturity. A boy, for instance, who has been trained in this waywill be found competent, by the time that he is ten or twelve years old, to take the contract for furnishing himself with caps, or boots and shoes, and, a few years later, with all his clothing, at a specified annual sum. The sum fixed upon in the case of caps, for example, should be intermediatebetween that which the caps of a boy of ordinary heedlessness would cost, and that which would be sufficient with special care, so that both thefather and the son could make money, as it were, by the transaction. Ofcourse, to manage such a system successfully, so that it could afterwardsbe extended to other classes of expenses, requires tact, skill, system, patience, and steadiness on the part of the father or mother who shouldattempt it; but when the parent possesses these qualities, the time andattention that would be required would be as nothing compared with thetrouble, the vexation, the endless dissatisfaction on both sides, thatattend upon the ordinary methods of supplying children's wants--to saynothing of the incalculable benefit to the boy himself of such a training, as a part of his preparation for future life. 

_Evil Results to be feared_. 

Nor is it merely upon the children themselves, and that after they enterupon the responsibilities of active life, that the evils resulting fromtheir having had no practical training in youth in respect to pecuniaryresponsibilities and obligations, that evil consequences will fall. Thegreat cities are full of wealthy men whose lives are rendered miserable bythe recklessness in respect to money which is displayed by their sons anddaughters as they advance towards maturity, and by the utter want, on theirpart, of all sense of delicacy, and of obligation or of responsibility ofany kind towards their parents in respect to their pecuniary transactions. Of course this must, in a vast number of cases, be the result when the boyis brought up from infancy with the idea that the only limit to his supplyof money is his ingenuity in devising modes of putting a pressure uponhis father. Fifteen or twenty years spent in managing his affairs on thisprinciple must, of course, produce the fruit naturally to be expected fromsuch seed. 

_The great Difficulty_. 

It would seem, perhaps, at first view, from what has been said in thischapter, that it would be a very simple and easy thing to train up childrenthus to correct ideas and habits in respect to the use of money; andit would be so--for the principles involved seem to be very plain andsimple--were it not that the _qualities which it requires in the parent_are just those which are most rare. Deliberateness in forming the plan, calmness and quietness in proposing it, inflexible but mild and gentlefirmness in carrying it out, perfect honesty in allowing the children toexercise the power and responsibility promised them, and an indulgentspirit in relation to the faults and errors into which they fall in theexercise of it--these and other such qualities are not very easily found. To make an arrangement with a child that he is to receive a certain sumevery Saturday, and then after two or three weeks to forget it, and whenthe boy comes to call for it, to say, petulantly, "Oh, don't come to botherme about that now--I am busy; and besides, I have not got the money now;"or, when a boy has spent all his allowance on the first two or three daysof the week, and comes to beg importunately for more, to say, "It was verywrong in you to spend all your money at once, and I have a great mind notto give you any more. I will, however, do it just this time, but I shallnot again, you may depend;" or, to borrow money in some sudden emergencyout of the fund which a child has accumulated for a special purpose, andthen to forget or neglect to repay it--to manage loosely and capriciouslyin any such ways as these will be sure to make the attempt a total failure;that is to say, such management will be sure to be a failure in respect toteaching the boy to act on right principles in the management of money, andtraining him to habits of exactness and faithfulness in the fulfillment ofhis obligations. But in making him a thoughtless, wasteful, teasing, andselfish boy while he remains a boy, and fixing him, when he comes tomanhood, in the class of those who are utterly untrustworthy, faithless inthe performance of their promises, and wholly unscrupulous in respect tothe means by which they obtain money, it may very probably turn out to be asplendid success. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

CORPORAL PUNISHMENT. 

It might, perhaps, be thought that, in a book which professes to showhow an efficient government can be established and maintained by _gentlemeasures_, the subject of corporal punishment could have no place. It seemsimportant, however, that there should be here introduced a brief thoughdistinct presentation of the light in which, in a philosophical point ofview, this instrumentality is to be regarded. 

_The Teachings of Scripture_. 

The resort to corporal punishment in the training of children seems to bespoken of in many passages contained in the Scriptures as of fundamentalnecessity. But there can be no doubt that the word _rod_, as used in thosepassages, is used simply as the emblem of parental authority. This is inaccordance with the ordinary custom of Hebrew writers in those days, andwith the idiom of their language, by which a single visible or tangibleobject was employed as the representative or expression of a generalidea--as, for example, the sword is used as the emblem of magisterialauthority, and the sun and the rain, which are spoken of as being sent withtheir genial and fertilizing power upon the evil and the good, denote notspecially and exclusively those agencies, but all the beneficent influencesof nature which they are employed to represent. The injunctions, therefore, of Solomon in respect to the use of the rod are undoubtedly to beunderstood as simply enjoining upon parents the necessity of bringing uptheir children _in complete subjection_ to their authority. No one canimagine that he could wish the rod to be used when complete subjection tothe parental authority could be secured by more gentle means. And how thisis to be done it is the object precisely of this book to show. 

In this sense, therefore--and it is undoubtedly the true sense--namely, that children must be _governed by the authority of the parent_, thepassages in question express a great and most essential truth. It issometimes said that children must be governed by reason, and this is true, but it is the reason of their parents, and not their own which must holdthe control. If children were endowed with the capacity of seeing what isbest for them, and with sufficient self-control to pursue what is bestagainst the counter-influences of their animal instincts and propensities, there would be no necessity that the period of subjection to parentalauthority should be extended over so many years. But so long as theirpowers are yet too immature to be safely relied upon, they must, ofnecessity, be subject to the parental will; and the sooner and the moreperfectly they are made to understand this, and to yield a willingsubmission to the necessity, the better it will be, not only for theirparents, but also for themselves. 

The parental authority must, therefore, be established--by gentle means, if possible--but it must by all means be established, and be firmlymaintained. If you can not govern your child without corporal punishment, it is better to resort to it than not to govern him at all. Taking a wideview of the field, I think there may be several cases in which a resort tothe infliction of physical pain as the only available means of establishingauthority may be the only alternative. There are three cases of this kindthat are to be specially considered. 

[Illustration: THE RUNAWAY]

_Possible Cases in which it is the only Alternative. --Savages_. 

1. In savage or half-civilized life, and even, perhaps, in so rude a stateof society as must have existed in some parts of Judea when the Proverbs ofSolomon were written, it is conceivable that many parents, owing to theirown ignorance, and low animal condition, would have no other means at theircommand for establishing their authority over their children than scoldingsand blows. It must be so among savages. And it is certainly better, if themother knows no other way of inducing her boy to keep within her sight, that she should whip him when he runs away, than that he should be bittenby serpents or devoured by bears. She _must_ establish her authority insome way, and if this is the best that she is capable of pursuing, she mustuse it. 

_Teachers whose Tasks surpass their Skill_. 

2. A teacher, in entering upon the charge of a large school of boys madeunruly by previous mismanagement, may, perhaps, possibly find himselfunable to establish submission to his authority without this resource. Itis true that if it is so, it is due, in a certain sense, to want of skillon the teacher's part; for there are men, and women too, who will take anycompany of boys that you can give them, and, by a certain skill, or tact, or knowledge of human nature, or other qualities which seem sometimesto other persons almost magical, will have them all completely undersubjection in a week, and that without violence, without scolding, almostwithout even a frown. The time may, perhaps, come when every teacher, tobe considered qualified for his work, must possess this skill. Indeed, theworld is evidently making great and rapid progress in this direction. Themethods of instruction and the modes by which the teacher gains and holdshis influence over his pupils have been wonderfully improved in recenttimes, so that where there was one teacher, fifty years ago, who was reallybeloved by his pupils, we have fifty now. In Dr. Johnson's time, which wasabout a hundred and fifty years ago, it would seem that there was no othermode but that of violent coercion recognized as worthy to be relied upon inimparting instruction, for he said that he knew of no way by which Latincould be taught to boys in his day but "by having it flogged into them. "

From such a state of things to that which prevails at the present day therehas been an astonishing change. And now, whether a teacher is able tomanage an average school of boys without physical force is simply aquestion of tact, knowledge of the right principles, and skill in applyingthem on his part. It is, perhaps, yet too soon to expect that all teacherscan possess, or can acquire, these qualifications to such a degree as tomake it safe to forbid the infliction of bodily pain in any case, but thetime for it is rapidly approaching, and in some parts of the country ithas, perhaps, already arrived. Until that time comes, every teacher whofinds himself under the necessity of beating a boy's body in order toattain certain moral or intellectual ends ought to understand that thereason is the incompleteness of his understanding and skill in dealingdirectly with his mind; though for this incompleteness he may not himselfbe personally at all to blame. 

_Children spoiled by Neglect and Mismanagement_. 

3. I am even willing to admit that one or more boys in a family may reachsuch a condition of rudeness and insubordination, in consequence of neglector mismanagement on the part of their parents in their early years, andthe present clumsiness and incapacity of the father in dealing with thesusceptibilities and impulses of the human soul, that the question will liebetween keeping them within some kind of subordination by bodily punishmentor not controlling them at all. If a father has been so engrossed in hisbusiness that he has neglected his children, has never established anycommon bond of sympathy between himself and them, has taken no interest intheir enjoyments, nor brought them by moral means to an habitual subjectionto his will; and if their mother is a weak, irresolute woman, occupyingherself with the pursuits and pleasures of fashionable society, and leavingher children to the management of servants, the children will, of course, in general, grow up exacting, turbulent, and ungovernable; and when, with advancing maturity, their increasing strength and vigor makes thisturbulence and disorder intolerable in the house, and there is, as ofcourse there usually will be in such a case, no proper knowledge and skillin the management of the young on the part of either parent to remedy theevil by gentle measures, the only alternative in many cases may be eithera resort to violent punishment, or the sending away of the unmanageablesubjects to school. The latter part of the alternative is the best, and, fortunately, it is the one generally adopted. But where it can not beadopted, it is certainly better that the boys should be governed by the rodthan to grow up under no government at all. 

_Gentle Measures effectual where Rightfully and Faithfully employed_. 

However it may be with respect to the exceptional cases above enumerated, and perhaps some others, there can, I think, be no doubt that parents whoshould train their children from the beginning on the principles explainedin this volume, and upon others analogous to them, would never, in anycase, have to strike a blow. They would accomplish the end enjoined by theprecepts of Solomon, namely, the complete subjection of their children totheir authority, by improved methods not known in his day, or, at least, not so fully developed that they could then be relied upon. They whoimagine that parents are bound to use the rod as the instrumentality, because the Scriptures speak of the rod as the means of establishingparental authority best known in those days, instead of employing the moreeffective methods which the progress of improvement has developed and madeavailable at the present day, ought, in order to be consistent, to insiston the retention of the harp in religious worship, because David enjoinsit upon believers to "praise the Lord with harp:" to "sing unto him withpsaltery, and an instrument of ten strings. " The truth is, that what we areto look at in such injunctions is the end that is to be attained, which is, in this last case, the impressive and reverential exaltation of AlmightyGod in our minds by the acts of public worship; and if, with theimprovements in musical instruments which have been made in modern times, we can do this more satisfactorily by employing in the place of a psalteryor a harp of ten strings an organ of ten or a hundred stops, we are boundto make the substitution. In a word, we must look at the end and not atthe means, remembering that in questions of Scripture interpretation the"letter killeth, the spirit maketh alive. "

_Protracted Contests with Obstinacy_. 

It seems to me, though I am aware that many excellent persons thinkdifferently, that it is never wise for the parent to allow himself tobe drawn into a contest with a child in attempting to compel him to dosomething that from ill-temper or obstinacy he refuses to do. If theattempt is successful, and the child yields under a moderate severityof coercion, it is all very well. But there is something mysterious andunaccountable in the strength of the obstinacy sometimes manifested in suchcases, and the degree of endurance which it will often inspire, even inchildren of the most tender age. We observe the same inexplicable fixednesssometimes in the lower animals--in the horse, for example; which is themore unaccountable from the fact that we can not suppose, in his case, thatpeculiar combination of intelligence and ill-temper which we generallyconsider the sustaining power of the protracted obstinacy on the part ofthe child. The degree of persistence which is manifested by childrenin contests of this kind is something wonderful, and can not easily beexplained by any of the ordinary theories in respect to the influence ofmotives on the human mind. A state of cerebral excitement and exaltation isnot unfrequently produced which seems akin to insanity, and instances havebeen known in which a child has suffered itself to be beaten to deathrather than yield obedience to a very simple command. And in vast numbersof instances, the parent, after a protracted contest, gives up in despair, and is compelled to invent some plausible pretext for bringing it to anend. 

Indeed, when we reflect upon the subject, we see what a difficult task weundertake in such contests--it being nothing less than that of _forcing theformation of a volition_ in a human mind. We can easily control the bodilymovements and actions of another person by means of an external coercionthat we can apply, and we have various indirect means of _inducing_volitions; but in these contests we seem to come up squarely to the work ofattempting, by outward force, to compel the _forming of a volition_ in themind; and it is not surprising that this should, at least sometimes, provea very difficult undertaking. 

_No Necessity for these Contests_. 

There seems to be no necessity that a parent or teacher should ever becomeinvolved in struggles of this kind in maintaining his authority. The way toavoid them, as it seems to me, is, when a child refuses out of obstinacy todo what is required of him, to impose the proper punishment or penalty forthe refusal, and let that close the transaction. Do not attempt to enforcehis compliance by continuing the punishment until he yields. A child, forexample, going out to play, wishes for his blue cap. His mother choosesthat he shall wear his gray one. She hangs the blue cap up in its place, and gives him the gray one. He declares that he will not wear it, andthrows it down upon the floor. The temptation now is for the mother, indignant, to punish him, and then to order him to take up the cap which hehad thrown down, and to feel that it is her duty, in case he refuses, topersist in the punishment until she conquers his will, and compels him totake it up and put it upon his head. 

But instead of this, a safer and a better course, it seems to me, is toavoid a contest altogether by considering the offense complete, and thetransaction on his part finished by the single act of rebellion against herauthority. She may take the cap up from the floor herself and put it in itsplace, and then simply consider what punishment is proper for the wrongalready done. Perhaps she forbids the boy to go out at all. Perhaps shereserves the punishment, and sends him to bed an hour earlier that night. The age of the boy, or some other circumstances connected with the case, may be such as to demand a severer treatment still. At any rate, she limitsthe transaction to the single act of disobedience and rebellion alreadycommitted, without giving an opportunity for a repetition of it by renewingthe command, and inflicts for it the proper punishment, and that is the endof the affair. 

And so a boy in reciting a lesson will not repeat certain words after hismother. She enters into no controversy with him, but shuts the book andputs it away. He, knowing his mother's usual mode of management in suchcases, and being sure that some penalty, privation, or punishment willsooner or later follow, relents, and tells his mother that he will say thewords if she will try him again. 

"No, my son, " she should reply, "the opportunity is past. You should havedone your duty at the right time. You have disobeyed me, and I must taketime to consider what to do. "

If, at the proper time, in such a case, when all the excitement of theaffair is over, a penalty or punishment apportioned to the fault, or someother appropriate measures in relation to it, are _certain to come_, andif this method is always pursued in a calm and quiet manner but withinflexible firmness in act, the spirit of rebellion will be much moreeffectually subdued than by any protracted struggles at the time, thoughending in victory however complete. 

But all this is a digression, though it seemed proper to allude to thesubject of these contests here, since it is on these occasions, perhaps, that parents are most frequently led, or, as they think, irresistiblyimpelled, to the infliction of bodily punishments as the last resort, whenthey would, in general, be strongly inclined to avoid them. 

_The Infliction of Pain sometimes the speediest Remedy_. 

There are, moreover, some cases, perhaps, in the ordinary exigencies ofdomestic life, as the world goes, when some personal infliction is the_shortest_ way of disposing of a case of discipline, and may appear, forthe time being, to be the most effectual. A slap is very quickly given, anda mother may often think that she has not time for a more gentle mode ofmanaging the case, even though she may admit that if she had the time ather command the gentle mode would be the best. And it is, indeed, doubtlesstrue that the principles of management advocated in this work are such asrequire that the parents should devote some time and attention, and, stillmore essentially, some _heart_ to the work; and they who do not considerthe welfare and happiness of their children in future life, and their ownhappiness in connection with them as they advance towards their decliningyears, as of sufficient importance to call for the bestowment of this timeand attention, will doubtless often resort to more summary methods in theirdiscipline than those here recommended. 

_The Sting that it leaves behind_. 

Indeed, the great objection, after all, to the occasional resort to theinfliction of bodily pain in extreme cases is, as it seems to me, the stingwhich it leaves behind; not that, which it leaves in the heart of the childwho may suffer it--for that soon passes away--but in the heart of theparent who inflicts it. The one is, or may be, very evanescent; the othermay very long remain; and what is worse, the anguish of it may be revivedand made very poignant in future years. 

This consideration makes it specially imperative on every parent never, for any cause, to inflict punishment by violence when himself under theinfluence of any irritation or anger awakened by the offense. For thoughthe anger which the fault of the child naturally awakens in you carries youthrough the act of punishing well enough, it soon afterwards passes away, while the memory of it remains, and in after years, like any other sin, itmay come back to exact a painful retribution. When the little loved one whonow puts you out of patience with her heedlessness, her inconsiderateness, and, perhaps, by worse faults and failings--all, however, faults whichmay very possibly, in part or in whole, be the result of the immature andundeveloped condition of her mental or bodily powers--falls sick and dies, and you follow her as she is borne away, and with a bursting heart see herlaid in her little grave, it will be a great comfort to you then to reflectthat you did all in your power, by means of the gentlest measures at yourcommand, to train her to truth and duty, that you never lost patience withher, and that she never felt from your hand any thing but gentle assistanceor a loving caress. 

And your boy--now so ardent and impulsive, and often, perhaps, noisy, troublesome, and rude, from the exuberant action of his growingpowers--when these powers shall have received their full development, andhe has passed from your control to his place in the world as a man, and hecomes back from time to time to the maternal home in grateful remembranceof his obligations to his mother, bringing with him tokens of his affectionand love, you will think with pain of the occasions when you subjected himto the torture of the rod under the impulse of irritation or anger, or toaccomplish the ends of discipline which might have been attained in otherways. Time, as you then look back over the long interval of years whichhave elapsed, will greatly soften the recollection of the fault, but itwill greatly aggravate that of the pain which was made the retribution ofit. You will say to yourself, it is true, I did it for the best. If I hadnot done it, my son would perhaps not be what he is. He, if he remembersthe transaction, will doubtless say so too; but there will be none the lessfor both a certain sting in the recollection, and you will wish that thesame end could have been accomplished by gentler means. 

The substance of it is that children must, at all events, be governed. Theproper authority over them _must be_ maintained; but it is a great dealbetter to secure this end by gentle measures, if the parent have or canacquire the skill to employ them. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

GRATITUDE IN CHILDREN. 

Mothers are very often pained at what seems to them the ingratitude oftheir children. They long, above all things, for their love. They do everything in their power--I mean, of course, that some mothers do--to win it. They make every sacrifice, and give every possible evidence of affection;but they seem to fail entirely of bringing out any of those evidences ofgratitude and affection in return which, if they could only witness them, would fill their hearts with gladness and joy. But the only feeling whichtheir children manifest towards them seems to be a selfish one. They cometo them when in trouble, they even fly to them eagerly when in danger, andthey consider their parents the chief resource for procuring nearly alltheir means of gratification. But they think little, as it often seems, ofthe mother's comfort and enjoyment in return, and seldom or never do anything voluntarily to give her pleasure. 

It would be a great exaggeration to say that this is always the feeling ofthe mother in respect to her children. I only mean that this is sometimes, and I might probably say very often, the case. 

_Two Forms of Love. _

Now there are two distinct forms which the feeling of love may assume inthe mature mind, both of which are gratifying to the object of it, thoughthey are very different, and indeed in some sense exactly the opposite ofeach other. There is the _receiving_ and the _bestowing_ love. It is truethat the two forms are often conjoined, or rather they often exist inintimate combination with each other; but in their nature they areessentially distinct. A young lady, for example, may feel a strongattachment for the gentleman to whom she is engaged--or a wife for herhusband--in the sense of liking to receive kindness and attention from himmore than from any other man. She may be specially pleased when he invitesher to ride with him, or makes her presents, or shows in any way that hethinks of her and seeks her happiness--more so than she would be to receivethe same attentions from any other person. This is love. It may be verygenuine love; but it is love in the form of taking special pleasure in thekindness and favor bestowed by the object of it. Yet it is none the lesstrue, as most persons have had occasion to learn from their own experience, that this kind of love may be very strong without being accompanied byany corresponding desire on the part of the person manifesting it to makesacrifices of her own ease and comfort in order to give happiness to theobject of her love in return. 

In the same manner a gentleman may feel a strong sentiment of love for alady, which shall take the form of enjoying her society, of being happywhen he is near her, and greatly pleased at her making sacrifices for hissake, or manifesting in any way a strong attachment for him. There _may be_also united with this the other form of love--namely, that which would leadhim to deny himself and make sacrifices _for her_. But the two, thoughthey may often--perhaps generally--exist together, are in their nature soessentially different that they may be entirely separated, and we may haveone in its full strength while there is very little of the other. Youmay love a person in the sense of taking greater pleasure in receivingattentions and favors from him than from all the world beside, while yetyou seldom think of making efforts to promote his comfort and happiness inany thing in which you are not yourself personally concerned. On the otherhand, you may love him with the kind of affection which renders it thegreatest pleasure of your life to make sacrifices and endure self-denial topromote his welfare in any way. 

In some cases these two forms are in fact entirely separated, and one orthe other can exist entirely distinct from the other--as in the case of thekind feelings of a good man towards the poor and miserable. It is quitepossible to feel a very strong interest in such objects, and to be willingto put ourselves to considerable inconvenience to make them comfortable andhappy, and to take great pleasure in learning that our efforts have beeneffectual, without feeling any love for them at all in the other form--thatis, any desire to have them with us, to receive attentions and kindnessfrom them, and to enjoy their society. 

On the other hand, in the love of a young child for his mother the case isreversed. The love of the child consists chiefly in liking to be with hismother, in going to her rather than to any one else for relief from painor for comfort in sorrow, and is accompanied with very few and very faintdesires to make efforts, or to submit to privations, or to make sacrifices, for the promotion of her good. 

_Order of their Development_. 

Now the qualities and characteristics of the soul on which the capacity forthese two forms of love depend seem to be very different, and they advancein development and come to maturity at different periods of life; so thatthe mother, in feeling dejected and sad because she can not awaken in themind of her child the gratitude and the consideration for her comfort andhappiness which she desires, is simply looking for a certain kind of fruitat the wrong time. You have one of the forms of love for you on the part ofthe child now while he is young. In due time, when he arrives at maturity, if you will wait patiently, you will assuredly have the other. Now he runsto you in every emergency. He asks you for every thing that he wants. Hecan find comfort nowhere else but in your arms, when he is in distress orin suffering from pain, disappointment, or sorrow. But he will not make anyeffort to be still when you are sick, or to avoid interrupting you whenyou are busy; and insists, perhaps, on your carrying him when he is tired, without seeming to think or care whether you may not be tired too. But indue time all this will be changed. Twenty years hence he will conceal allhis troubles from you instead of coming with them to you for comfort. Hewill be off in the world engaged in his pursuits, no longer bound closelyto your side. But he will think all the time of your comfort and happiness. He will bring you presents, and pay you innumerable attentions to cheeryour heart in your declining years. He will not run to you when he has hurthimself; but if any thing happens to _you_, he will leave every thing tohasten to your relief, and bring with him all the comforts and means ofenjoyment for you that his resources can command. The time will thus comewhen you will have his love to your heart's content, in the second form. You must be satisfied, while he is so young, with the first form of it, which is all that his powers and faculties in their present stage arecapable of developing. 

The truth of the case seems to be that the faculties of the human mind--orI should perhaps rather say, the susceptibilities of the soul--like theinstincts of animals, are developed in the order in which they are requiredfor the good of the subject of them. 

Indeed, it is very interesting and curious to observe how striking theanalogy in the order of development, in respect to the nature of the bondof attachment which binds the offspring to the parent, runs through allthose ranks of the animal creation in which the young for a time dependupon the mother for food or for protection. The chickens in any momentof alarm run to the hen; and the lamb, the calf, and the colt to theirrespective mothers; but none of them would feel the least inclination tocome to the rescue of the parent if the parent was in danger. With themother herself it is exactly the reverse. Her heart--if we can speak of theseat of the maternal affections of such creatures as a heart--is filledwith desires to bestow good upon her offspring, without a desire, or even athought, of receiving any good from them in return. 

There is this difference, however, between the race of man and those ofthe inferior animals--namely, that in his case the instinct, or at leasta natural desire which is in some respects analogous to an instinct, prompting him to repay to his parents the benefits which he received fromthem in youth, comes in due time; while in that of the lower animals itseems never to come at all. The little birds, after opening their mouthsso wide every time the mother comes to the nest during all the weeks whiletheir wings are growing, fly away when they are grown, without the leastcare or concern for the anxiety and distress of the mother occasioned bytheir imprudent flights; and once away and free, never come back, so faras we know, to make any return to their mother for watching over them, sheltering them with her body, and working so indefatigably to provide themwith food during the helpless period of their infancy--and still less toseek and protect and feed her in her old age. But the boy, reckless as hesometimes seems in his boyhood, insensible apparently to his obligationsto his mother, and little mindful of her wishes or of her feelings--hisaffection for her showing itself mainly in his readiness to go to her withall his wants, and in all his troubles and sorrows--will begin, when he hasarrived at maturity and no longer needs her aid, to remember with gratitudethe past aid that she has rendered him. The current of affection in hisheart will turn and flow the other way. Instead of wishing to receive, hewill now only wish to give. If she is in want, he will do all he can tosupply her. If she is in sorrow, he will be happy if he can do any thing tocomfort her. He will send her memorials of his gratitude, and objects ofcomfort and embellishment for her home, and will watch with solicitude andsincere affection over her declining years. 

And all this change, if not the result of a new instinct which reaches itsdevelopment only when the period of maturity arrives, is the unfolding of asentiment of the heart belonging essentially to the nature of thesubject of it as man. It is true that this capacity may, under certaincircumstances, be very feebly developed. In some cases, indeed, it wouldseem that it was scarcely developed at all; but there is a provision forit in the nature of man, while there is no provision for it at all in thesentient principles of the lower animals. 

_Advancing the Development of the Sentiment of Gratitude. _

Now, although parents must not be impatient at the slow appearance of thisfeeling in their children, and must not be troubled in its not appearingbefore its time, they can do much by proper efforts to cultivate itsgrowth, and give it an earlier and a more powerful influence over them thanit would otherwise manifest. The mode of doing this is the same as in allother cases of the cultivation of moral sentiments in children, and that isby the influence over them of sympathy with those they love. Just as theway to cultivate in the minds of children a feeling of pity for those whoare in distress is not to preach it as a duty, but to make them love you, and then show such pity yourself; and the way to make them angry andrevengeful in character--if we can conceive of your being actuated by sounnatural a desire--would be often to express violent resentment yourself, with scowling looks and fierce denunciations against those who haveoffended you; so, to awaken them to sentiments of gratitude for the favorsthey receive, you must gently lead them to sympathize with you in thegratitude which _you_ feel for the favors that _you_ receive. 

When a child shows some special unwillingness to comply with her mother'sdesires, her mother may address to her a kind but direct and plainexpostulation on the obligations of children to their parents, and the dutyincumbent on them of being grateful for their kindness, and to be willingto do what they can in return. Such an address would probably do no good atall. The child would receive it simply as a scolding, no matter how mildlyand gently the reproof might be expressed, and would shut her heart againstit. It is something which she must stand still and endure, and that is all. 

But let the mother say the same things precisely when the child has shown awillingness to make some little sacrifice to aid or to gratify her mother, so that the sentiment expressed may enter her mind in the form of approvaland not of condemnation, and the effect will be very different. Thesentiments will, at any rate, now not be rejected from the mind, but theway will be open for them to enter, and the conversation will have a goodeffect, so far as didactic teaching can have effect in such a case. 

But now to bring in the element of sympathy as a means of reaching andinfluencing the mind of the child: The mother, we will suppose, standing atthe door some morning before breakfast in spring, with her little daughter, seven or eight years old, by her side, hears a bird singing on a tree nearby. She points to the tree, and says, in a half-whisper, "Hark!"

When the sound ceases, she looks to the child with an expression ofpleasure upon her countenance, and says, "Suppose we give that bird some crumbs because he has been singing us sucha pretty song. "

"Well!" says the child. 

"Would you?" asks the mother. 

"Yes, mother, I should like to give him some very much. Do you suppose hesang the song for us?"

"I don't _know_ that he did, " replies the mother. "We don't know exactlywhat the birds mean by all their singing. They take some pleasure in seeingus, I think, or else they would not come so much around our house; and Idon't know but that this bird's song may come from some kind of joy orgladness he felt in seeing us come to the door. At any rate, it will be apleasure to us to give him some crumbs to pay him for his song. "

The child will think so too, and will run off joyfully to bring a piece ofbread to form crumbs to be scattered upon the path. 

And the whole transaction will have the effect of awakening and cherishingthe sentiment of gratitude in her heart. The effect will not be great, itis true, but it will be of the right kind. It will be a drop of water uponthe unfolding cotyledons of a seed just peeping up out of the ground, whichwill percolate below after you have gone away, and give the little rootsa new impulse of growth. For when you have left the child seated upon thedoor-step, occupied in throwing out the crumbs to the bird, her heart willbe occupied with the thoughts you have put into it, and the sentiment ofgratitude for kindness received will commence its course of development, ifit had not commenced it before. 

_The Case of older Children_. 

Of course the employment of such an occasion as this of the singing of alittle bird and such a conversation in respect to it for cultivating thesentiment of gratitude in the heart, is adapted only to the case of quitea young child. For older children, while the principle is the same, thecircumstances and the manner of treating the case must be adapted to amaturer age. Robert, for example--twelve years of age--had been sick, andduring his convalescence his sister Mary, two years older than himself, hadbeen very assiduous in her attendance upon him. She had waited upon himat his meals, and brought him books and playthings, from time to time, toamuse him. After he had fully recovered his health, he was sitting in thegarden, one sunny morning in the spring, with his mother, and she said, "How kind Mary was to you while you were sick!"

"Yes, " said Robert, "she was very kind indeed. "

"If you would like to do something for her in return, " continued hismother, "I'll tell you what would be a good plan. "

Robert, who, perhaps, without this conversation would not have thoughtparticularly of making any return, said he should like to do something forher very much. 

"Then, " said his mother, "you might make her a garden. I can mark off aplace for a bed for her large enough to hold a number of kinds of flowers, and then you can dig it up, and rake it over, and lay it off into littlebeds, and sow the seeds. I'll buy the seeds for you. I should like to dosomething towards making the garden for her, for she helped me a greatdeal, as well as you, in the care she took of you. "

"Well, " said Robert, "I'll do it. "

"You are well and strong now, so you can do it pretty easily, " added themother; "but still, unless you would like to do it yourself for her sake, Ican get the man to do it. But if you would like to do it yourself, I thinkit would please her very much as an expression of your gratitude and lovefor her. "

"Yes, " said Robert, "I should a great deal rather do it myself, and I willbegin this very day. "

And yet, if his mother had not made the suggestion, he would probably nothave thought of making any such return, or even any return at all, for hissister's devoted kindness to him when he was sick. In other words, thesentiment of gratitude was in his heart, or, rather, the capacity for itwas there, but it needed a little fostering care to bring it out intoaction. And the thing to be observed is, that by this fostering care it wasnot only brought out at the time, but, by being thus brought out and drawninto action, it was strengthened and made-to grow, so as to be ready tocome out itself without being called, on the next occasion. -It was like alittle plant just coming out of the ground under influences not altogetherfavorable. It needs a little help and encouragement; and the aid that isgiven by a few drops of water at the right time will bring it forward andhelp it to attain soon such a degree of strength and vigor as will make itindependent of all external aid. 

But there must be consideration, tact, a proper regard to circumstances, and, above all, there must be no secret and selfish ends concealed, on thepart of the mother in such cases. You may deluge and destroy your littleplant by throwing on the water roughly or rudely; or, in the case of a boyupon whose mind you seem to be endeavoring to produce some moral result, you may really have in view some object of your own--your interest in themoral result being only a pretense. 

For instance, Egbert, under circumstances similar to those recitedabove--in respect to the sickness of the boy, and the kind attentions ofhis sister--came to his mother one afternoon for permission to go a-fishingwith some other boys who had called for him. He was full of excitement andenthusiasm at the idea. But his mother was not willing to allow him to go. The weather was lowering. She thought that he had not yet fully recoveredhis health; and she was afraid of other dangers. Instead of saying calmly, after a moment's reflection, to show that her answer was a deliberate one, that he could not go, and then quietly and firmly, but without assigningany reasons, adhering to her decision--a course which, though it could nothave saved the boy from emotions of disappointment, would be the best formaking those feelings as light and as brief in duration as possible--beganto argue the case thus;

"Oh no, Egbert, I would not go a-fishing this afternoon, if I were you. Ithink it is going to rain. Besides, it is a nice cool day to work in thegarden, and Lucy would like to have her garden made very much. You knowthat she was very kind to you when you were sick--how many things she didfor you; and preparing her garden for her would be such a nice way ofmaking her a return. I am sure you would not wish to show yourselfungrateful for so much kindness. "

Then follows a discussion of some minutes, in which Egbert, in a fretfuland teasing tone, persists in urging his desire to go a-fishing. He canmake the garden, he says, some other day. His mother finally yields, thoughwith great unwillingness, doing all she can to extract all graciousness andsweetness from her consent, and to spoil the pleasure of the excursion tothe boy, by saying as he goes away, that she is sure he ought not to go, and that she shall be uneasy about him all the time that he is gone. 

Now it is plain that such management as this, though it takes ostensiblythe form of a plea on the part of the mother in favor of a sentiment ofgratitude in the heart of the boy, can have no effect in cherishing andbringing forward into life any such sentiment, even if it should be alreadyexistent there in a nascent state; but can only tend to make the object ofit more selfish and heartless than ever. 

Thus the art of cultivating the sentiment of gratitude, as is the case inall other departments of moral training, can not be taught by definitelessons or learned by rote. It demands tact and skill, and, above all, anhonest and guileless sincerity. The mother must really look to, and aimfor the actual moral effect in the heart of the child, and not merely makeformal efforts ostensibly for this end, but really to accomplish sometemporary object of her own. Children easily see through all covertintentions of any kind. They sometimes play the hypocrite themselves, butthey are always great detectors of hypocrisy in others. 

But gentle and cautious efforts of the right kind--such as require no highattainments on the part of the mother, but only the right spirit--will intime work wonderful effects; and the mother who perseveres in them, and whodoes not expect the fruits too soon, will watch with great interest for thetime to arrive when her boy will spontaneously, from the promptings of hisown heart, take some real trouble, or submit to some real privation orself-denial, to give pleasure to her. She will then enjoy the doublegratification, first, of receiving the pleasure, whatever it may be, thather boy has procured for her, and also the joy of finding that the tenderplant which she has watched and watered so long, and which for a timeseemed so frail that she almost despaired of its ever coming to any good, is really advanced to the stage of beginning to bear fruit, and giving heran earnest of the abundant fruits which she may confidently expect from itin future years. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

RELIGIOUS TRAINING. 

It has been my aim in this volume to avoid, as far as possible, all topicsinvolving controversy, and only to present such truths, and to elucidatesuch principles, as can be easily made to commend themselves to the goodsense and the favorable appreciation of all the classes of minds likely tobe found among the readers of the work. There are certain very importantaspects of the religious question which may be presented, I think, withoutany serious deviation from this policy. 

_In what True Piety consists_. 

Indeed; I think there is far more real than seeming agreement among parentsin respect to this subject, or rather a large portion of the apparentdifference consists in different modes of expressing in words thoughts andconceptions connected with spiritual things, which from their very naturecan not any of them be adequately expressed in language at all; and thus ithappens that what are substantially the same ideas are customarily clothedby different classes of persons in very different phraseology, while, onthe other hand, the same set of phrases actually represent in differentminds very different sets of ideas. 

For instance, there is perhaps universal agreement in the idea that somekind of change--a change, too, of a very important character--is impliedin the implanting or developing of the spirit of piety in the heart ofa child. There is also universal agreement in the fact--often veryemphatically asserted in the New Testament--that the essential principlesin which true piety consists are those of entire submission in all thingsto the will of God, and cordial kind feeling towards every man. Thereis endless disagreement, and much earnest contention among differentdenominations of Christians, in respect to the means by which theimplanting of these principles is to be secured, and to the modes in which, when implanted, they will manifest themselves; but there is not, so far aswould appear, any dissent whatever anywhere from the opinion that the endto be aimed at is the implanting of these principles--that is thatit consists in bringing the heart to a state of complete and cordialsubmission to the authority and to the will of God, and to a sincere regardfor the welfare and happiness of every human being. 

_A Question of Words_

There seems, at first view, to be a special difference of opinion inrespect to the nature of the process by which these principles come to beimplanted or developed in the minds of the young; for all must admit thatin early infancy they are not there, or, at least, that they do not appear. _No_ one would expect to find in two infants--twin-brothers, we willsuppose--creeping on the floor, with one apple between them, that therecould be, at that age, any principles of right or justice, or of brotherlylove existing in their hearts that could prevent their both crying andquarrelling for it. "True, " says one; "but there are germs of thoseprinciples which, in time, will be developed. " "No, " rejoins another, "there are no _germs_ of them, there are only _capacities_ for them, throughwhich, by Divine power, the germs may hereafter be introduced. " But when wereflect upon the difficulty of forming any clear and practical idea ofthe difference between a _germ_--in a bud upon an apple-tree, forinstance--which may ultimately produce fruit, and a _capacity_ forproducing it which may subsequently be developed, and still more, howdifficult is it to picture to our minds what is represented by these wordsin the case of a human soul, it would seem as if the apparent difference inpeople's opinions on such a point must be less a difference in respectto facts than in respect to the phraseology by which the facts should berepresented. 

And there would seem to be confirmation of this view in the fact that thegreat apparent difference among men in regard to their theoretical views ofhuman nature does not seem to produce any marked difference in their actionin practically dealing with it. Some parents, it is true, habitually treattheir children with gentleness, kindness, and love; others are harshand severe in all their intercourse with them. But we should find, oninvestigation, that such differences have very slight connection withthe theoretical views of the nature of the human soul which the parentsrespectively entertain. Parents who in their theories seem to think theworst of the native tendencies of the human heart are often as kind andconsiderate and loving in their dealings with it as any; while no one wouldbe at all surprised to find another, who is very firm in his belief inthe native tendency of childhood to good, showing himself, in practicallydealing with the actual conduct of children, fretful, impatient, complaining, and very ready to recognize, in fact, tendencies which intheory he seems to deny. And so, two bank directors, or members of theboard of management of any industrial undertaking, when they meet in thestreet on Sunday, in returning from their respective places of publicworship, if they fall into conversation on the moral nature of man, mayfind, or think they find, that they differ extremely in their views, andmay even think each other bigoted or heretical, as the case may be; but yetthe next day, when they meet at a session of their board, and come to thework of actually dealing with the conduct and the motives of men, they mayfind that there is _practically_ no difference between them whatever. Or, if there should be any difference, such as would show itself in a greaterreadiness in one than in the other to place confidence in the promises orto confide in the integrity of men, the difference would, in general, haveno perceptible relation whatever to the difference in the theologicalphraseology which they have been accustomed to hear and to assent to intheir respective churches. All which seems to indicate, as has already beensaid, that the difference in question is rather apparent than real, andthat it implies less actual disagreement about the facts of human naturethan diversity in the phraseology by which the facts are represented. 

_Agency of the Divine Spirit_. 

It may, however, be said that in this respect, if not in any other, thereis a radical difference among parents in respect to human nature, inrelation to the religious education of children--namely, that somethink that the implanting of the right principles of repentance for allwrong-doing, and sincere desires for the future to conform in all things tothe will of God, and seek the happiness and welfare of men, can not comeexcept by a special act of Divine intervention, and is utterly beyond thereach--in respect to any actual efficiency--of all human instrumentalities. This is no doubt true; but it is also no less true in respect to all thepowers and capacities of the human soul, as well as to those pertaining tomoral and religious duty. If the soul itself is the product of thecreative agency of God, _all_ its powers and faculties must be so, and, consequently, the development of them all--and there certainly can beno reason for making the sentiment of true and genuine piety anexception--must be the work of the same creative power. 

But some one may say. There is, however, after all, a difference; forwhile we all admit that both the original entrance of the embryo soul intoexistence, and every step of its subsequent progress and development, including the coming into being and into action of all its variousfaculties and powers, are the work of the Supreme creative power, thecommencement of the divine life in the soul is, in a _special and peculiarsense_, the work of the Divine hand. 

And this also is doubtless true; at least, there is a certain importanttruth expressed in that statement. And yet when we attempt to picture toour minds two modes of Divine action, one of which is special and peculiar, and the other is not so, we are very likely to find ourselves bewilderedand confused, and we soon perceive that in making such inquiries we aregoing out of our depth--or, in other words, are attempting to pass beyondthe limits which mark the present boundaries of human knowledge. 

In view of these thoughts and suggestions, in the truth of which it wouldseem that all reasonable persons must concur, we may reasonably concludethat all parents who are willing to look simply at the facts, and who arenot too much trammelled by the forms of phraseology to which they areaccustomed, must agree in admitting the substantial soundness of thefollowing principles relating to the religious education of children. 

_Order of Development in respect to different Propensities and Powers_. 

[Illustration: THE FIRST INSTINCT. ]

1. We must not expect any perceptible awakening of the moral and religioussentiments too soon, nor feel discouraged and disheartened because they donot earlier appear; for, like all the other higher attributes of the soul, they pertain to a portion of the mental structure which is not earlydeveloped. It is the group of purely animal instincts that first showthemselves in the young, and those even, as we see in the young of thelower animals, generally appear somewhat in the order in which they arerequired for the individual's good. Birds just hatched from the egg seem tohave, for the first few days, only one instinct ready for action--that ofopening their mouths wide at the approach of any thing towards their nest. Even this instinct is so imperfect and immature that it can not distinguishbetween the coming of their mother and the appearance of the face of a boypeering down upon them, or even the rustling of the leaves around them by astick. In process of time, as their wings become formed, another instinctbegins to appear--that of desiring to use the wings and come forth into theair. The development of this instinct and the growth of the wings advancetogether. Later still, when the proper period of maturity arrives, otherinstincts appear as they are required--such as the love of a mate, thedesire to construct a nest, and the principle of maternal affection. 

Now there is something analogous to this in the order of development to beobserved in the progress of the human being through the period of infancyto that of maturity, and we must not look for the development of any poweror susceptibility before its time, nor be too much troubled if wefind that, in the first two or three years of life, the animalpropensities--which are more advanced in respect to the organization whichthey depend upon--seem sometimes to overpower the higher sentiments andprinciples, which, so far as the capacity for them exists at all, must beyet in embryo. We must be willing to wait for each to be developed in itsown appointed time. 

_Dependence upon Divine Aid_. 

2. Any one who is ready to feel and to acknowledge his dependence uponDivine aid for any thing whatever in the growth and preservation of hischild, will surely be ready to do so in respect to the work of developingor awakening in his heart the principles of piety, since it mustbe admitted by all that the human soul is the highest of all themanifestations of Divine power, and that that portion of its structure onwhich the existence and exercise of the moral and religious sentimentsdepend is the crowning glory of it. It is right, therefore--I mean right, in the sense of being truly philosophical--that if the parent feels andacknowledges his dependence upon Divine power in any thing, he shouldspecially feel and acknowledge it here; while there is nothing so welladapted as a deep sense of this dependence, and a devout and habitualrecognition of it, and reliance upon it, to give earnestness and efficiencyto his efforts, and to furnish a solid ground of hope that they will becrowded with success. 

_The Christian Paradox_. 

3. The great principle so plainly taught in the Sacred Scriptures--namely, that while we depend upon the exercise of Divine power for the success ofall our efforts for our own spiritual improvement or that of others, just as if we could do nothing ourselves, we must do every thing that ispossible ourselves, just us if nothing was to be expected from Divinepower--may be called the Christian paradox. "Work out your own salvationwith fear and trembling, for it is God that worketh in you both to will andto do. " It would seem, it might be thought, much more logical to say, "Workout your own salvation, for there is nobody to help you;" or, "It is notnecessary to make any effort yourselves, for it is God that worketh inyou. " It seems strange and paradoxical to say, "_Work out your own_salvation, _for_ it is _God that worketh in you_ both to will and to do. "

But in this, as in all other paradoxes, the difficulty is in theexplanation of the theory, and not in the practical working of it. Thereis in natural philosophy what is called the hydrostatic paradox, whichconsists in the fact that a small quantity of any liquid--as, for example, the coffee in the nose of the coffee-pot--will balance and sustain a verymuch larger quantity--as that contained in the body of it--so as to keepthe surface of each at the same level. Young students involve themselvessometimes in hopeless entanglements among the steps of the mathematicaldemonstration showing how this can be, but no housekeeper ever meets withany practical difficulty in making her coffee rest quietly in its placeon account of it. The Christian paradox, in the same way, gives rise toa great deal of metaphysical floundering and bewilderment among youngtheologians in their attempts to vindicate and explain it, but thehumble-minded Christian parent finds no difficulty in practice. It comesvery easy to him to do all he can, just as if every thing depended upon hisefforts, and at the same time to cast all his care upon God, just as ifthere was nothing at all that he himself could do. 

_Means must be Right Means_. 

4. We are apt to imagine--or, at least, to act sometimes as if weimagined--that our dependence upon the Divine aid for what our Saviour, Jesus, designated as the new birth, makes some difference in the obligationon our part to employ such means as are naturally adapted to the end inview. If a gardener, for example, were to pour sand from his watering-potupon his flowers, in time of drought, instead of water, he mightmake something like a plausible defense of his action, in reply to aremonstrance, thus: "_I_ have no power to make the flowers grow and bloom. The secret processes on which the successful result depends are altogetherbeyond my reach, and in the hands of God, and he can just as easily blessone kind of instrumentality as another. I am bound to do something, it istrue, for I must not be idle and inert; but God, if he chooses to do so, can easily bring out the flowers into beauty and bloom, however imperfectand ill-adapted the instrumentalities I use may be. He can as easily makeuse, for this purpose, of sand as of water. "

Now, although there may be a certain plausibility in this reasoning, suchconduct would appear to every one perfectly absurd; and yet many parentsseem to act on a similar principle. A mother who is from time to time, during the week, fretful and impatient, evincing no sincere and heartyconsideration for the feelings, still less for the substantial welfare andhappiness, of those dependent upon her; who shows her insubmission to thewill of God, by complaints and repinings at any thing untoward that befallsher; and who evinces a selfish love for her own gratification--her dresses, her personal pleasures, and her fashionable standing; and then, as a meansof securing the salvation of her children, is very strict, when Sundaycomes, in enforcing upon them the study of their Sunday lessons, or inrequiring them to read good books, or in repressing on that day any undueexuberance of their spirits--relying upon the blessing of God upon herendeavors--will be very apt to find, in the end, that she has been wateringher delicate flowers with sand. 

The means which we use to awaken or impart the feelings of sorrow for sin, submission to God, and cordial good-will to man, in which all true pietyconsists, must be means that are _appropriate in themselves_ to theaccomplishment of the end intended. The appliance must be water, and notsand--or rather water _or_ sand, with judgment, discrimination, and tact;for the gardener often finds that a judicious mixture of sand with theclayey and clammy soil about the roots of his plants is just what isrequired. The principle is, that the appliance must be an appropriateone--that is, one indicated by a wise consideration of the circumstances ofthe case, and of the natural characteristics of the infantile mind. 

_Power of Sympathy_. 

5. In respect to religious influence over the minds of children, as in allother departments of early training, the tendency to sympathetic actionbetween the heart of the child and the parent is the great source of theparental influence and power. The principle, "Make a young person loveyou, and then simply _be_ in his presence what you wish him to be, " is thesecret of success. 

The tendency of young children to become what they see those around themwhom they love are, seems to be altogether the most universally acting andthe most powerful of the influences on which the formation of the characterdepends; and yet it is remarkable that we have no really appropriate namefor it. We call it sometimes sympathy; but the word sympathy is associatedmore frequently in our minds with the idea of compassionate participationin the sufferings of those we love. Sometimes we term it a spirit ofimitation, but that phrase implies rather a conscious effort to _act_ likethose whom we love, than that involuntary tendency to _become_ like them, which is the real character of the principle in question. The principle isin some respects like what is called _induction_ in physical science, whichdenotes the tendency of a body, which is in any particular magnetic orelectric condition, to produce the same condition, and the same directionof polarity, in any similar body placed near it. There is a sort of _moralinduction_, which is not exactly sympathy, in the ordinary sense ofthat word, nor a desire of imitation, nor the power of example, but animmediate, spontaneous, and even unconscious tendency to _become what thosearound us are_. This tendency is very strong in the young while the openingfaculties are in the course of formation and development, and it isimmensely strengthened by the influence of love. Whatever, therefore, a mother wishes her child to be--whether a sincere, honest Christian, submissive to God's will and conscientious in the discharge of every duty, or proud, vain, deceitful, hypocritical, and pharisaical--she has only tobe either the one or the other herself, and without any special teachingher child will be pretty sure to be a good copy of the model. 

_Theological Instruction. _

6. If the principle above stated is correct, it helps to explain why solittle good effect is ordinarily produced by what may be called instructionin theological truth on the minds of the young. Any system of theologicaltruth consists of grand generalizations, which, like all othergeneralizations, are very interesting, and often very profitable, to matureminds, especially to minds of a certain class; but they are not appreciableby children, and can only in general be received by them as words to befixed in the memory by rote. Particulars first, generalizations afterwards, is, or ought to be, the order of progress in all acquisition of knowledge. This certainly has been the course pursued by the Divine Spirit in themoral training of the human race. There is very little systematic theologyin the Old Testament, and it requires a considerable degree of ingenuity tomake out as much as the theologians desire to find even in the teachingsof Jesus Christ. It is very well to exercise this ingenuity, and thesystematic results which are to be obtained by it may be very interesting, and very beneficial, to those whose minds are mature enough to enter intoand appreciate them. But they are not adapted to the spiritual wants ofchildren, and can only be received by them, if they are received at all, ina dry, formal, mechanical manner. Read, therefore, the stories in the OldTestament, or the parables and discourses of Jesus in the New, withoutattempting to draw many inferences from them in the way of theoreticalbelief, but simply to bring out to the mind and heart of the child themoral point intended in each particular case, and the heart of the childwill be touched, and he will receive an _element_ of instruction which hecan arrange and group with others in theological generalization by-and-by, when his faculties have advanced to the generalizing stage. 

_No repulsive Personal Applications_. 

7. In reading the Scriptures, and, indeed, in all forms of giving religiouscounsel or instruction, we must generally beware of presenting the thoughtsthat we communicate in the form of reproachful personal application. Theremay be exceptions to this rule, but it is undoubtedly, in general, a soundone. For the work which we have to do, is not to attempt to drive the heartfrom the wrong to the right by any repellent action which the wrong maybe made to exert, but to allure it by an attractive action with whichthe right may be invested. We must, therefore, present the incidents andinstructions of the Word in their alluring aspect--assuming, in agreat measure, that our little pupil will feel pleasure with us in themanifestations of the right, and will sympathize with us in disapproval ofthe wrong. To secure them to our side, in the views which we take, we mustshow a disposition to _take_ them to it by an affectionate sympathy. 

Our Saviour set us an excellent example of relying on the superiorefficiency of the bond of sympathy and love in its power over the hearts ofchildren, as compared with that of formal theological instruction, in thefew glimpses which we have of his mode of dealing with them. When theybrought little children to him, he did not begin to expound to them theprinciples of the government of God, or the theoretical aspects of the wayof salvation; but took them _up in his arms and blessed them_, and calledthe attention of the by standers at the same time to qualities andcharacteristics which they possessed that he seemed to regard with specialaffection, and which others must imitate to be fit for the kingdom of God. Of course the children went away pleased and happy from such an interview, and would be made ready by it to receive gladly to their hearts any truthsor sentiments which they might subsequently hear attributed to one who wasso kind a friend to them. 

If, however, instead of this, he had told them--no matter in what kindand gentle tones--that they had very wicked hearts, which must be changedbefore either God or any good man could truly love them, and that thischange could only be produced by a power which they could only understandto be one external to themselves, and that they must earnestly pray forit every day, how different would have been the effect. They would havelistened in mute distress, would have been glad to make their escape whenthe conversation was ended, and would shrink from ever seeing or hearingagain one who placed himself in an attitude so uncongenial to them. 

And yet all that might be true. They might have had yet only such appetitesand propensities developed within them as would, if they continued to holdparamount control over them all their lives, make them selfish, unfeeling, and wicked men; and that they were, in a special though mysterious manner, dependent on the Divine power for bringing into action within them otherand nobler principles. And so, if a physician were called in to see asick child, he might see that it was in desperate danger, and that unlesssomething could be done, and that speedily, to arrest the disease, hislittle patient would be dead in a few hours; and yet to say that to thepoor child, and overwhelm it with terror and distress, would not be a verysuitable course of procedure for averting the apprehended result. 

_Judge not, that ye be not judged_. 

8. And this leads us to reflect, in the eighth place, that we ought tobe very careful, in our conversations with children, and especially inaddresses made to them in the Sunday-school, or on any other occasion, notto say any thing to imply that we consider them yet unconverted sinners. Noone can possibly know at how early an age that great change which consistsin the first faint enkindling of the Divine life in the soul may beginto take place, nor with what faults, and failings, and yieldings to theinfluence of the mere animal appetites and passions of childhood it may, for a time, co-exist. We should never, therefore, say any thing to childrento imply that, in the great question of their relations to God and theSaviour, we take it for granted that they are on the wrong side. We can notpossibly know on which side they really are, and we only dishearten anddiscourage them, and alienate their hearts from us, and tend to alienatethem from all good, by seeming to take it for granted that, while _we_ areon the right side, _they_ are still upon the wrong. We should, in a word, say _we_, and not _you_, in addressing children on religious subjects, soas to imply that the truths and sentiments which we express are equallyimportant and equally applicable to us as to them, and thus avoid creatingthat feeling of being judged and condemned beforehand, and withoutevidence, which is so apt to produce a broad though often invisible gulf ofseparation in heart between children, on the one hand, and ministers andmembers of the Church, on the other. 

_Promised Rewards and threatened Punishments_. 

9. It is necessary to be extremely moderate and cautious in employing theinfluence of promised rewards or threatened punishments as a means ofpromoting early piety. In a religious point of view, as in every other, goodness that is bought is only a pretense of goodness--that is, in realityit is no goodness at all; and as it is true that love casteth out fear, soit is also true that fear casteth out love. Suppose--though it is almosttoo violent a supposition to be made even for illustration's sake--that thewhole Christian world could be suddenly led to believe that there was to beno happiness or suffering at all for them beyond the grave, and that theinducement to be grateful to God for his goodness and submissive to hiswill, and to be warmly interested in the welfare and happiness of man, werehenceforth to rest on the intrinsic excellence of those principles, and totheir constituting essentially the highest and noblest development of themoral and spiritual nature of man--how many of the professed disciples ofJesus would abandon their present devotion to the cause of love to God andlove to man? Not one, except the hypocrites and pretenders!

The truth is, that as piety that is genuine and sincere must rest onvery different foundations from hope of future reward or fear offuture punishment, so this hope and this fear are very unsuitableinstrumentalities to be relied on for awakening it. The kind of gratitudeto God which we wish to cherish in the mind of a child is not such as wouldbe awakened towards an earthly benefactor by saying--in the case ofa present made by an uncle, for instance--"Your uncle has made you abeautiful present. Go and thank him very cordially, and perhaps you willget another. " It is rather of a kind which might be induced by saying, "Your uncle, who has been so kind to you in past years, is poor and sick, and can never do any thing more for you now. Would you like to go and sitin his sick-room to show your love for him, and to be ready to help him ifhe wants any thing?"

True piety, in a word, which consists in entering into and steadilymaintaining the right moral and spiritual relations with God and man, marksthe highest condition which the possibilities of human nature allow, andmust rest in the soul which attains to it on a very different foundationfrom any thing like hope or fear. That there is a function which it is theprovince of these motives to fulfill, is abundantly proved by the use thatis sometimes made of them in the Scriptures. But the more we reflectupon the subject, the more we shall be convinced, I think, that all suchconsiderations ought to be kept very much in the back-ground in ourdealings with children. If a child is sick, and is even likely to die, itis a very serious question whether any warning given to him of his dangerwill not operate as a hindrance rather than a help, in awakening thosefeelings which will constitute the best state of preparation for thechange. For a sense of gratitude to God for his goodness, and to theSaviour for the sacrifice which he made for his sake, penitence for hissins, and trust in the forgiving mercy of his Maker, are the feelings to beawakened in his bosom; and these, so far as they exist, will lead him tolie quietly, calmly, and submissively in God's hands, without anxiety inrespect to what is before him. It is a serious question whether an entireuncertainty as to the time when his death is to come is not more favorableto the awakening of these feelings, than the state of alarm and distresswhich would be excited by the thought that it was near. 

_The Reasonableness of Gentle Measures in Religious Training_. 

The mother may sometimes derive from certain religious considerations theidea that she is bound to look upon the moral delinquencies and dangerswhich she observes in her children, under an aspect more stern and severethan seems to be here recommended. But a little reflection must convinceus that the way to true repentance of, and turning from sin, is notnecessarily through the suffering of terror and distress. The Gospel is notan instrumentality for producing terror and distress, even as means to anend. It is an instrumentality for saving us from these ills; and the DivineSpirit, in the hidden and mysterious influence which it exercises informing, or transforming, the human soul into the image of God, must be asready, it would seem, to sanction and bless efforts made by a mother toallure her child away from its sins by loving and gentle invitations andencouragements, as any attempts to drive her from them by the agency ofterror or pain. It would seem that no one who remembers the way in whichJesus Christ dealt with the children that were brought to him couldpossibly have any doubt of this. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

Any person who has acquired the art of examining and analyzing his ownthoughts will generally find that the mental pictures which he forms of thelandscapes, or the interiors, in which the scenes are laid of the events orincidents related in any work of fiction which interests him, are modelledmore or less closely from prototypes previously existing in his own mind, and generally upon those furnished by the experiences of his childhood. If, for example, he reads an account of transactions represented as takingplace in an English palace or castle, he will usually, on a carefulscrutiny, find that the basis of his conception of the scene is derivedfrom the arrangement of the rooms of some fine house with which he wasfamiliar in early life. Thus, a great many things which attract ourattention, and impress themselves upon our memories in childhood, becomethe models and prototypes--more or less aggrandized and improved, perhaps--of the conceptions and images which we form in later years. 

_Nature of the Effect produced by Early Impressions_. 

Few persons who have not specially reflected on this subject, or examinedclosely the operations of their own minds, are aware what an extendedinfluence the images thus stored in the mind in childhood have in formingthe basis, or furnishing the elements of the mental structures of futurelife. But the truth, when once understood, shows of what vast importance itis with what images the youthful mind is to be stored. A child who ascendsa lofty mountain, under favorable circumstances in his childhood, has hisconceptions of all the mountain scenery that he reads of, or hears ofthrough life, modified and aggrandized by the impression made upon hissensorium at this early stage. Take your daughter, who has always, we willsuppose, lived in the country, on an excursion with you to the sea-shore, and allow her to witness for an hour, as she sits in silence on the cliff, the surf rolling in incessantly upon the beach, and infinitely the smallestpart of the effect is the day's gratification which you have given her. That is comparatively nothing. You have made a life-long change, if not inthe very structure, at least in the permanent furnishing of her mind, andperformed a work that can never by any possibility be undone. The imageswhich have been awakened in her mind, the emotions connected with them, andthe effect of these images and emotions upon her faculties of imaginationand conception, will infuse a life into them which will make her, inrespect to this aspect of her spiritual nature, a different being as longas she lives. 

_The Nature and Origin of general Ideas_. 

It is the same substantially in respect to all those abstract and generalideas on moral or other kindred subjects which constitute the mentalfurnishing of the adult man, and have so great an influence in theformation of his habits of thought and of his character. They are chieflyformed from combinations of the impressions made in childhood. A person'sidea of justice, for instance, or of goodness, is a generalization of thevarious instances of justice or goodness which ever came to his knowledge;and of course, among the materials of this generalization those instancesthat were brought to his mind during the impressible years of childhoodmust have taken a very prominent part. Every story, therefore, which yourelate to a child to exemplify the principles of justice or goodness takesits place, or, rather, the impression which it makes takes its place, asone of the elements out of which the ideas that are to govern his futurelife are formed. 

_Vast Importance and Influence of this mental Furnishing, _

For the ideas and generalizations thus mainly formed from the images andimpressions received in childhood become, in later years, the elementsof the machinery, so to speak, by which all his mental operations areperformed. Thus they seem to constitute more than the mere furniture ofthe mind; they form, as it were, almost a part of the structure itself. Sotrue, indeed, is this, and so engrossing a part does what remains inthe mind of former impressions play in its subsequent action, that somephilosophers have maintained that the whole of the actual consciousness ofman consists only in the _resultant_ of all these impressions preservedmore or less imperfectly by the memory, and made to mingle together in oneinfinitely complicated but harmonious whole. Without going to any suchextreme as this, we can easily see, on reflection, how vast an influence onthe ideas and conceptions, as well as on the principles of action in matureyears, must be exerted by the nature and character of the images whichthe period of infancy and childhood impresses upon the mind. All parentsshould, therefore, feel that it is not merely the present welfare andhappiness of their child that is concerned in their securing to him atranquil and happy childhood, but that his capacity for enjoyment throughlife is greatly dependent upon it. They are, in a very important sense, intrusted with the work of building up the structure of his soul for alltime, and it is incumbent upon them, with reference to the future as wellas to the present, to be very careful what materials they allow to go intothe work, as well as in what manner they lay them. 

Among the other bearings of this thought, it gives great weight to theimportance of employing gentle measures in the management and trainingof the young, provided that such measures can be made effectual in theaccomplishment of the end. The pain produced by an act of hasty and angryviolence to which a father subjects his son may soon pass away, but thememory of it does not pass away with the pain. Even the remembrance of itmay at length fade from the mind, but there is still an _effect_ which doesnot pass away with the remembrance. Every strong impression which you makeupon his perceptive powers must have a very lasting influence, and even theimpression itself may, in some cases, be forever indelible. 

Let us, then, take care that these impressions shall be, as far aspossible, such as shall be sources of enjoyment for them in future years. It is true that we _must_ govern them. They are committed to our chargeduring the long time which is required for the gradual unfolding of theirembryo powers for the express purpose that during that interval they maybe guided by our reason, and not by their own. We can not surrender thistrust. But there is a way of faithfully fulfilling the duties of it--if wehave discernment to see it, and skill to follow it--which will make theyears of their childhood years of tranquillity and happiness, both toourselves and to them. 

THE END. 

[Footnote A: See Frontispiece. ]

[Endnote B: The "Boston Congregationalist. "]