And it is not only the homeless, deserted, or neglected child, allowed to run wild in the streets, drifting or forced into occupations which bring him more or less closely into touch with the ways and haunts of wrong-doing—it is not only this child who is likely in time to become a wrong-doer himself. No less than the neglected child is the “spoiled” one, however good his heredity, apt to degenerate into delinquency, perhaps into criminality of the worst description. In short, to borrow Pascal’s pregnant phrase, every child at the outset of his life is a little impulsive being, pushed indifferently toward good or evil according to the influences which surround him. The blame, then, for the boy who “goes wrong” does not rest with the boy himself, or yet with his remote ancestors. It rests squarely with the parents who, through ignorance or neglect, have failed to mould him aright in the plastic days of childhood. What is needed, especially in this complex civilisation of ours, with its myriad incitements and temptations, is a livelier appreciation of the responsibilities as well as the privileges of parenthood. Most of all, perhaps, from the point of view of coping with the problem of wrong-doing, do parents need to appreciate that it is in the very first years of their children’s lives that the work of character-building should be begun. In this connection a curious story is told of a father and mother, who, full of that sublime eagerness for the welfare of their young which every parent ought to have, took their only child, a handsome boy of three, to an old Greek philosopher. “We want you,” said they, “to take full charge of our child’s education, and do the best you can for him.” “How old is he?” the philosopher asked. “Just three.” The sage shook his head. “I am sorry,” he said, “but you have brought him to me too late.” Modern students of the nature of man are beginning to realise that there is a world of truth in this reply. They are beginning to realise, that, even in the period of dawning intelligence, interests may be created, habits formed, which all the education of later years may not wholly eradicate. Most people, looking back at their years of childhood, are chiefly impressed by the fact that they remember very little of what then happened. Actually, deep in the recesses of their minds, they possess a subconscious remembrance that may be both remarkably extensive and almost incredibly potent in affecting their later development. The truth of this will become increasingly evident as we proceed. Here let us pause for only one illustrative instance, taken from the experience of one of the most talked about of American women, Miss Helen Keller, who, as is well known, was left by illness deaf, dumb, and blind when less than two years old, but has nevertheless, by careful training, been developed into a woman of brilliant attainments.