over and read and talked about the matter, I have always been forced to
come to the conclusion that children must be ruled through FEAR. To make
something of a child, you must make it FEAR something. Is it not so,
cousin? And what, pray, do children fear so much as a rod?"

As she spoke she seemed, to look inquiringly at Woloda and myself, and I
confess that I did not feel altogether comfortable.

"Whatever you may say," she went on, "a boy of twelve, or even of
fourteen, is still a child and should be whipped as such; but with
girls, perhaps, it is another matter."

"How lucky it is that I am not her son!" I thought to myself.

"Oh, very well," said Grandmamma, folding up my verses and replacing
them beneath the box (as though, after that exposition of views, the
Princess was unworthy of the honour of listening to such a production).
"Very well, my dear," she repeated "But please tell me how, in return,
you can look for any delicate sensibility from your children?"

Evidently Grandmamma thought this argument unanswerable, for she cut the
subject short by adding:

"However, it is a point on which people must follow their own opinions."

The Princess did not choose to reply, but smiled condescendingly, and as
though out of indulgence to the strange prejudices of a person whom she
only PRETENDED to revere.

"Oh, by the way, pray introduce me to your young people," she went on