Obedience that is worth anything at all is only secured by suggestion and love, never by promises of reward or threats of punishment.
CHILDREN WHO ARE CALLED "COWARDS"
Recently we overheard a little fellow say, "Father says I'm the only coward in the whole family." Looking him straight in the face we said to him: "You're not a coward. Such a fine boy as you couldn't possibly be a coward." The boy was greatly amazed, and, as we left him, he was saying over to himself, "I'm not a coward. She said I'm not a coward," finally adding, "She said I couldn't be a coward." This one thought, repeated to him several times and turned over and over in his mind, eventually overthrew the false fears instilled by his father.
A short time ago the daily papers contained the story of the ten-year-old son of a New York business man who drew his few dollars from the savings bank, boarded a train for Chicago, and, after three days of amusement and loneliness, his money all gone, was found in a hotel bitterly weeping. His identity was revealed, the parents were notified at once, and the boy was sent on the first train back to his home. On the way to the station he sobbed out through his tears, "Well, my brother can't call me a coward any more, anyway." Who knows but that this everlasting taunting of the child with the accusation of being a baby or being a coward has much to do with many such escapades and other daring exploits on the part of the juveniles who are chafed by such unjust insinuations? Those of us who are acquainted with the vice and crime of a great city can imagine just what might have happened if this boy had been a little older, if his heredity had not been so good, if his money hadn't run out, if he had been able to remain in the big city long enough to make undesirable acquaintances.
Many criminals have confessed behind prison bars that when they were children they were called cowards. After a while they actually came to believe that they were cowards, and in their efforts to acquire courage and demonstrate their bravery they were led to desperate and even criminal acts. They prowled around the dark alleys just to convince themselves that they were not afraid, that they were not cowards, and there they made the acquaintance of the criminals who led them into new and dangerous paths. Even if a child enters this world handicapped by heredity, let us not lessen his chances of success by adverse suggestion.
Faith-thoughts, thoughts of bravery and of courage, may just as easily be instilled into the mind of the normal child as thoughts of fear and cowardice. A child should never have suggested to him that he is afraid. He should be constantly assured that he is brave, loyal, and fearless. The daily repetition of these suggestions will contribute much to the actual acquirement of the very traits of character that are thus suggested. This does not mean that a child should not be taught caution and forethought.
THE GIRL WHO WOULD "TURN OUT BAD"
Parents do not begin to realize how fearfully dangerous is this habit of constantly reiterated negative suggestion. Let me illustrate by an actual incident: A beautiful girl in a near-by state grew up quietly in the little village until she was eighteen years of age, when suddenly she decided to run away from home, declaring she was old enough to do as she pleased. She confided in one of her girl friends that she was going to Chicago, and had made all arrangements to lose herself in the "redlight" district. All that this girl friend said had not the slightest influence. As the train bore her away to the city and to ruin, a social worker in Chicago was wired to meet her at a suburban station. The girl was met, taken from the train and whisked in a cab to the home of a Christian woman. So possessed was this girl with the idea of throwing herself away that the captain of police was asked to talk to her; but the combined efforts of the police captain, a magistrate, and several Christian people could not persuade her to recall her threat. She declared she would kill herself if her parents were notified. This siege lasted for ten days. Then she finally broke down, saying: "I simply can't help it. All my life my mother has told me that I was going to turn out bad. No matter what would happen at home, if I broke a dish or went out with the young people and remained away ten minutes later than I was told to, it would always be thrown up to me. 'Oh, some day you'll turn out bad.' I have heard it until I am sick of it, and something within seems to push me on and on, telling me I must turn out bad."
Of course the girl was persuaded to believe that these were only fear-thoughts; that she was a beautiful, virtuous girl, that she simply had received the wrong training, that she couldn't possibly turn out bad. She was thus saved by the sympathy and advice of understanding friends, was subsequently married and is today the mother of a splendid boy.