In every family where there are young children there daily occur cases of what mothers and servants call “making a litter.”  A child has had out its box of toys, and leaves them scattered about the floor.  Or a handful of flowers, brought in from a morning walk, is presently seen dispersed over tables and chairs.  Or a little girl, making doll’s-clothes, disfigures the room with shreds.  In most cases the trouble of rectifying this disorder falls anywhere but where it should.  Occurring in the nursery, the nurse herself, with many grumblings about “tiresome little things,” undertakes the task; if below-stairs, the task usually devolves either on one of the elder children or on the housemaid:  the transgressor being visited with nothing more than a scolding.  In this very simple case, however, there are many parents wise enough to follow out, more or less consistently, the normal course—­that of making the child itself collect the toys or shreds.  The labour of putting things in order is the true consequence of having put them in disorder.  Every trader in his office, every wife in her household, has daily experience of this fact.  And if education be a preparation for the business of life, then every child should also, from the beginning, have daily experience of this fact.  If the natural penalty be met by refractory behaviour (which it may perhaps be where the system of moral discipline previously pursued has been bad), then the proper course is to let the child feel the ulterior reaction caused by its disobedience.  Having refused or neglected to pick up and put away the things it has scattered about, and having thereby entailed the trouble of doing this on some one else, the child should, on subsequent occasions, be denied the means of giving this trouble.  When next it petitions for its toy-box, the reply of its mamma should be—­“The last time you had your toys you left them lying on the floor, and Jane had to pick them up.  Jane is too busy to pick up every day the things you leave about; and I cannot do it myself.  So that, as you will not put away your toys when you have done with them, I cannot let you have them.”  This is obviously a natural consequence, neither increased nor lessened; and must be so recognised by a child.  The penalty comes, too, at the moment when it is most keenly felt.  A new-born desire is balked at the moment of anticipated gratification; and the strong impression so produced can scarcely fail to have an effect on the future conduct:  an effect which, by consistent repetition, will do whatever can be done in curing the fault.  Add to which, that, by this method, a child is early taught the lesson which cannot be learnt too soon, that in this world of ours pleasures are rightly to be obtained only by labour.