Gentle Measures in the Management and Training of the Young | Page 5

one that a
policeman is coming to carry him off to jail.
Injurious Effects.
Although, by these various modes of exciting imaginary fears, there is
no direct and outward infliction of bodily suffering, the effect produced
on the delicate organization of the brain by such excitements is violent
in the extreme. The paroxysms of agitation and terror which they
sometimes excite, and which are often spontaneously renewed by
darkness and solitude, and by other exciting causes, are of the nature of
temporary insanity. Indeed, the extreme nervous excitability which they
produce sometimes becomes a real insanity, which, though it may, in
many cases, be finally outgrown, may probably in many others lead to
lasting and most deplorable results.
Harsh Reproofs and Threatenings.
3. There is a third mode of treatment, more common, perhaps, among
us than either of the preceding, which, though much milder in its
character than they, we still class among the violent measures, on
account of its operation and effects. It consists of stern and harsh
rebukes, denunciations of the heinousness of the sin of falsehood, with
solemn premonitions of the awful consequences of it, in this life and in
that to come, intended to awaken feelings of alarm and distress in the

mind of the child, as a means of promoting repentance and reformation.
These are not violent measures, it is true, so far as outward physical
action is concerned; but the effects which they produce are sometimes
of quite a violent nature, in their operation on the delicate nervous and
mental susceptibilities which are excited and agitated by them. If the
mother is successful in making the impression which such a mode of
treatment is designed to produce, the child, especially if a girl, is
agitated and distressed. Her nervous system is greatly disturbed. If
calmed for a time, the paroxysm is very liable to return. She wakes in
the night, perhaps, with an indefinable feeling of anxiety and terror, and
comes to her mother's bedside, to seek, in her presence, and in the sense
of protection which it affords, a relief from her distress.
The conscientious mother, supremely anxious to secure the best
interests of her child, may say that, after all, it is better that she should
endure this temporary suffering than not be saved from the sin. This is
true. But if she can be saved just as effectually without it, it is better
still.
The Gentle Method of Treatment.
4. We now come to the gentle measures which may be adopted in a
case of discipline like this. They are endlessly varied in form, but, to
illustrate the nature and operation of them, and the spirit and temper of
mind with which they should be enforced, with a view of
communicating; to the mind of the reader some general idea of the
characteristics of that gentleness of treatment which it is the object of
this work to commend, we will describe an actual case, substantially as
it really occurred, where a child, whom we will still call Louisa, told
her mother a falsehood about the apple, as already related.
Choosing the Right Time.
Her mother--though Louisa's manner, at the time of giving her answer,
led her to feel somewhat suspicious--did not express her suspicions, but
gave her the additional apple. Nor did she afterwards, when she
ascertained the facts, say any thing on the subject. The day passed away
as if nothing unusual had occurred. When bed-time came she undressed

the child and laid her in her bed, playing with her, and talking with her
in an amusing manner all the time, so as to bring her into a contented
and happy frame of mind, and to establish as close a connection as
possible of affection and sympathy between them. Then, finally, when
the child's prayer had been said, and she was about to be left for the
night, her mother, sitting in a chair at the head of her little bed, and
putting her hand lovingly upon her, said:
The Story.
"But first I must tell you one more little story.
"Once there was a boy, and his name was Ernest. He was a pretty large
boy, for he was five years old."
Louisa, it must be recollected, was only four.
"He was a very pretty boy. He had bright blue eyes and curling hair. He
was a very good boy, too. He did not like to do any thing wrong. He
always found that it made him feel uncomfortable and unhappy
afterwards when he did any thing wrong. A good many children,
especially good children, find that it makes them feel uncomfortable
and unhappy when they do wrong. Perhaps you do."
"Yes, mamma, I do," said Louisa.
"I am glad of that," replied her mother; "that is a good sign."
"Ernest