r outburst, but without
any attempt to go in search of further or more original causes. Still
less is she moved by the virtuous indignation that is the least charming
of the ways of some little girls. _Elle ne fait que constater_.
Her equanimity has never been overset by the wildest of his moments, and
she has witnessed them all. It is needless to say that she is not
frightened by his drama, for Nature takes care that her young creatures
shall not be injured by sympathies. Nature encloses them in the innocent
indifference that preserves their brains from the more harassing kinds of
distress.
Even the very frenzy of rage does not long dim or depress the boy. It is
his repentance that makes him pale, and Nature here has been rather
forced, perhaps--with no very good result. Often must a mother wish that
she might for a few years govern her child (as far as he is governable)
by the lowest motives--trivial punishments and paltry rewards--rather
than by any kind of appeal to his sensibilities. She would wish to keep
the words "right" and "wrong" away from his childish ears, but in this
she is not seconded by her lieutenants. The child himself is quite
willing to close with her plans, in so far as he is able, and is
reasonably interested in the results of her experiments. He wishes her
attempts in his regard to have a fair chance. "Let's hope I'll be good
all to-morrow," he says with the peculiar cheerfulness of his ordinary
voice. "I do hope so, old man." "Then I'll get my penny. Mother, I was
only naughty once yesterday; if I have only one naughtiness to-morrow,
will you give me a halfpenny?" "No reward except for real goodness all
day long." "All right."
It is only too probable that this system (adopted only after the failure
of other ways of reform) will be greatly disapproved as one of bribery.
It may, however, be curiously inquired whether all kinds of reward might
not equally be burlesqued by that word, and whether any government,
spiritual or civil, has ever even professed to deny rewards. Moreover,
those who would not give a child a penny for being good will not hesitate
to fine him a penny for being naughty, and rewards and punishments must
stand or fall together. The more logical objection will be that goodness
is ideally the normal condition, and that it should have, therefore, no
explicit extraordinary result, whereas naughtiness, being abnormal,
should have a visible and unusual sequel. To t
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