"Very seldom; the perfect freedom from suspicion, and the confidence in each other, which we have always maintained, make theft so mean a vice, that no boy who has a spark of honor left will be guilty of it. In the few instances which do occur, the moral sense of the family is so strong, that the offender is entirely subdued by it. An incident, illustrative of this, occurs to me. Early in our history, a number of our boys undertook to erect a hut for some purpose. It was more than half completed, and they were delighted with the idea of being able soon to occupy it, when it was discovered that a single piece of timber, contributed by one of the boys, had been obtained without leave. As soon as this was known, one of the boys seized an axe, and demolished the building, in the presence of the offender, the rest looking on and approving; nor could they afterward be induced to go on with it. At one time, several years since, there were two or three petty thefts committed, (and a good deal of prevarication naturally followed,) mainly by new pupils, of whom a considerable number had been admitted at once. Finding ordinary reproof unavailing, I announced that family worship would be suspended till the delinquents gave evidence of penitence. The effect of this measure was far beyond my expectation. Many of the boys would meet in little groups, in the huts, for prayers among themselves; and ere long the offenders came humbly suing for pardon and the resumption of worship."
During this conversation, we had left the Rough House and visited the new Lodge, erected in 1853, for a family of boys and a circle of Brothers, and the "Beehive," (Bienenkorb,) erected in 1841, in the northeast corner of the grounds, the home of another family. Turning westward, we came to the chapel, and a group of buildings connected with it, including the school-rooms, the preparatory department for girls, the library, dwellings for two families of girls, the kitchen, store-rooms, and offices. It was the hour of recess, and from the school-rooms rushed forth a joyous company of children, plainly clad, and evidently belonging to the peasant class; but though the marks of an early career of vice were stamped on many of their countenances, yet there were not a few bright eyes, and intelligent, thoughtful faces. Seeing Dr. Wichern, they came at once to him, with the impulsiveness of childhood, but with so evident a sense of propriety and decorum, that I would not but compare their conduct with that of many pupils in our best schools, and not to the advantage of the latter. The Doctor received them cordially, and had a kind word for each, generally in reference to their improvement in behavior, or their influence over others.
"This," said he, turning to me, as a bright, blue-eyed, flaxen-haired boy seized his hand, "is one of our peace boys."
I did not understand what he meant by the term, and said so.
"Our peace boys," he replied, "are selected from the most trustworthy and exemplary of our pupils, to aid in superintending the others. They have no authority to command, or even reprove; but only to counsel and remind. To be selected for this duty is one of their highest rewards."
"There must be among so many boys," I remarked, "and particularly those taken from such sources, a considerable number of born-destructives,—children in whom the propensity to break, tear, and destroy is almost ineradicable; how do you manage these?"
"In the earlier days of our experiment," he replied, "we had much trouble from this source; but at last we hit upon the plan of allowing each boy a certain sum of pocket-money, and deducting from this, in part at least, the estimated value of whatever he destroyed. From the day this rule was adopted all destructible articles seemed to have lost a great part of their fragility."
"Do the pupils often run away?" I asked.
"Very seldom, of late years; formerly we were occasionally troubled in that way. It was, of course, easy for them to do it, as no fences or other methods of restraint were used,—our reliance being upon affection, to retain them. If they made their escape, we usually sought them out, and persuaded them to return, and they seldom repeated the offence. Some years ago, one of our boys, who had repeatedly tried our patience by his waywardness, ran away. I pursued him, found him, and persuaded him to return. It was Christmas eve when we arrived, and this festival was always celebrated in my mother's chamber. As we entered the room, the children were singing the Christmas hymns. As he appeared, they manifested strong disapprobation of his conduct. They were told that they might decide among themselves how he should be punished. They consulted together quietly for a few moments, and then one, who had himself been forgiven some time before for a like fault, came forward, and, bursting into tears, pleaded that the offender might be pardoned. The rest joined in the petition, and, extending to him the hand of fellowship, soon turned their festival into a season of rejoicing over the returned prodigal. The pardon thus accorded was complete; no subsequent reference was made to his misconduct; and the next day, to show our confidence in him, a confidence which we never had occasion to retract, we sent him on an errand to a considerable distance."
"How did they behave at the time of the great fire?" I inquired; "the excitement must surely have reached you."