A writer of great moral insight says:  “Has not the law of seed and flower, cause and effect, the law of continuity which binds the universe together, a tone of severity?  It has surely, like all righteous law, and carries with it a legitimate and wholesome fear.  If we are to reap what we have sown, some, perhaps most of us, may dread the harvest.”

The child shrinks from the disapproval of the loved parent or teacher.  By so much the more as he reverences and respects those “in authority over him” does he dread to do that which he knows they would condemn.  If he has been led to expect natural retributions, he will have a wholesome fear of putting his hand in the fire, since he knows the inevitable consequences.  He understands that it is folly to expect that wrong can be done with impunity, and shrinks in terror from committing a sin whose consequences it is impossible that he should escape.  He knows well that there are other punishments save those of the body, and he has felt the anguish which follows self-condemnation.  “There is nothing degrading in such fear, but a heart-searching reverence and awe in the sincere and humble conviction that God’s law is everywhere.”

Such are some of the false and some of the true motives which can be appealed to in will-training, but there are various points in their practical application which may well be considered.

May we not question whether we are not frequently too exacting with children,—­too much given to fault-finding?  Were it not that the business of play is so engrossing to them, and life so fascinating a matter on the whole,—­were it not for these qualifying circumstances, we should harass many of them into dark cynicism and misanthropy at a very early age.  I marvel at the scrupulous exactness in regard to truth, the fine sense of distinction between right and wrong, which we require of an unfledged human being who would be puzzled to explain to us the difference between a “hawk and a handsaw,” who lives in the realm of the imagination, and whose view of the world is that of a great play-house furnished for his benefit.  If we were one half as punctilious and as hypercritical in our judgment of ourselves, we should be found guilty in short order, and sentenced to hard labor on a vast number of counts.

There are many comparatively small faults in children which it is wise not to see at all.  They are mere temporary failings, tiny drops which will evaporate if quietly left in the sunshine, but which, if opposed, will gather strength for a formidable current.  If we would sometimes apply Tolstoi’s doctrine of non-resistance to children, if we would overlook the small transgression and quietly supply another vent for the troublesome activity, there would be less clashing of wills, and less raising of an evil spirit, which gains wonderful strength while in action.

Do we not often use an arbitrary and a threatening manner in our commands to children, when a calm, gentle request, in a tone of expectant confidence, would gain obedience far more quickly and pleasantly?