Such stories of expectation of punishment are capped by instances of correction actually inflicted by the child on himself. I believe it is not uncommon for a child when possessed by a sense of having been naughty to object to having nice things at table on the ground that previously on a like occasion he was deprived of them. But the most curious instance of this moral rigour towards self which I have met with is the following: A girl of nine had been naughty, and was very sorry for her misbehaviour. Shortly after she came to her lesson limping, and remarked that she felt very uncomfortable. Being asked by her governess what was the matter with her she said: “It was very naughty of me to disobey you, so I put my right shoe on to my left foot and my left shoe on to my right foot”. The facts here briefly illustrated seem to me to show that there is in the child from the first a rudiment of true law-abidingness. And this is a force of the greatest consequence to the disciplinarian. It is something which takes side in the child’s breast with the reasonable governor and the laws which he or she administers. It secures ready compliance with a large part of the discipline enforced. When the impulse urging towards licence has been too strong, and disobedience ensues, this same instinct comes to the aid of order and good conduct by inflicting pains which are the beginning of what we call remorse. By-and-by other forces will assist. The affectionate child will reflect on the misery his disobedience causes his mother. A boy of four and three-quarter years must, one supposes, have woke up to this fact when he remarked to his mother: “Did you choose to be a mother? I think it must be rather tiresome.” The day when the child first becomes capable of thus putting himself into his mother’s place and realising, if only for an instant, the trouble he has brought on her, is an all-important one in his moral development. _The Wise Law-giver._ As our illustrations have suggested, and as every thoughtful parent knows well enough, the problem of moral training in the first years is full of difficulty. Yet our study surely suggests that it is not so hopeless a problem as we are sometimes weakly disposed to think. Perhaps a word or two on this may not inappropriately close this essay. I will readily concede that the difficulty of inculcating in children a sweet and cheerful obedience arises partly from their nature. There are trying children, just as there are trying dogs that howl and make themselves disagreeable for no discoverable reason but their inherent ‘cussedness’. There are, I doubt not, conscientious painstaking mothers who have been baffled by having to manage what appears to be the utterly unmanageable.