willing to close with her plans, in so far as he is able, and is
reasonably interested in the results of her experiments. He wishes her
attempts in his regard to have a fair chance. "Let's hope I'll be good
all to-morrow," he says with the peculiar cheerfulness of his ordinary
voice. "I do hope so, old man." "Then I'll get my penny. Mother, I was
only naughty once yesterday; if I have only one naughtiness to-morrow,
will you give me a halfpenny?" "No reward except for real goodness all
day long." "All right."

It is only too probable that this system (adopted only after the failure
of other ways of reform) will be greatly disapproved as one of bribery.
It may, however, be curiously inquired whether all kinds of reward might
not equally be burlesqued by that word, and whether any government,
spiritual or civil, has ever even professed to deny rewards. Moreover,
those who would not give a child a penny for being good will not hesitate
to fine him a penny for being naughty, and rewards and punishments must
stand or fall together. The more logical objection will be that goodness
is ideally the normal condition, and that it should have, therefore, no
explicit extraordinary result, whereas naughtiness, being abnormal,
should have a visible and unusual sequel. To this the rewarding mother
may reply that it is not reasonable to take "goodness" in a little child
of strong passions as the normal condition. The natural thing for him is
to give full sway to impulses that are so violent as to overbear his
powers.

But, after all, the controversy returns to the point of practice. What
is the thought, or threat, or promise that will stimulate the weak will
of the child, in the moment of rage and anger, to make a sufficient
resistance? If the will were naturally as well developed as the
passions, the stand would be soon made and soon successful; but as it is