persists far into our industrial age; and the hope of a lofty
patriotism, that shall be equal to the enervating influences of peace,
lies in an educated and self-denying type of loyalty.

The use of this loyalty in the reformation of boy criminals has been
remarkably demonstrated in the well-known work of Judge Ben B. Lindsey,
of Denver. In a particularly difficult case he says:

I decided to put my influence over him to the
test. I told him of the fight I was making for him,
showed him how I had been spending all my spare
time "trying to straighten things out" for him and
Heimel, and warned him that the police did not believe
I could succeed. "Now, Lee," I said, "you can run
away if you want to, and prove me a liar to the cops.
But I want to help you and I want you to stand by
me. I want you to trust me, and I want you to go
back to the jail there, and let me do the best I can."
He went, and he went alone--unguarded.

Here is a striking example of the team work of two with the play upon
loyalty and the spirit of contest.

Another lesson about boys I learned from little
"Mickey" when I was investigating his charge that
the jailer had beaten him. The jailer said: "Some
o' those kids broke a window in there, and when I
asked Mickey who it was, he said he didn't know. Of
course he knew. D'yu think I'm goin' to have kids
lie to me?" A police commissioner who was present