PUNISHMENT IS A SCIENCE. BY RALPH ROANOKE. PUNISHMENT, like many other subjects which have occupied the minds of philosophers and philanthropists, is not yet thoroughly understood. It is true that intelligent minds have long since determined the province of punishment to be the protection of society and the reformation of the culprit; and to these ends a large share of attention has been awakened. But it has never been regarded as a science, capable of being applied to the training of children with mathematical precision and accuracy. In the present progressive age, when the training and education of children are occupying so much more attention than formerly when mothers have become aware of their larger influence over the tender minds of their offspring, and are aroused to a proper sense of their great responsibility — any thoughts on the question of punishment cannot fail to arrest attention. What mother has not spent sleepless nights, almost despairing over her inability to impress upon the mind of some devoted child those principles which can alone secure happiness? How often has the painful thought arisen in her mind, ‘Can I ever secure my child's obedience? To be constantly inflicting punishment upon this darling son, will break down every noble impulse of his nature. To let him go on in the indulgence of his selfish propensities, is risking not only his present but also his eternal welfare. Would to GOD I knew better how to discharge my duty under this fearful responsibility!' The propensity to extremes, which has, in all ages, pervaded the human breast, but increases the difficulty. In one system of training we find a strictness of monotonous discipline enforced, irrespective of temperament, almost amounting to absolute tyranny. In another system we observe a degree of license allowed amounting to a total abandonment of all parental supervision. Here the mathematical idea of a just medium comes in, and theoretically solves the difficulty. But how shall the just medium be ascertained? Certainly not by adopting any fixed rules or uniform punishment for each and every child. The fallacy of this system must be readily acknowledged by recalling the various dispositions of children. How often are brothers entirely different in disposition! One is gentle and sensitive, with large veneration; the other is impulsive and selfish, with small veneration. The motives of action of two such dissimilar temperaments must be as wide asunder as the poles. In the one case, any resort to force would be unwise; and in the other, could scarcely be dispensed with. The difficulties of training are greatly increased by the natural tendency of the boy with small veneration to be constantly contrasting his treatment with that of his more gentle brother. His selfishness overshadows his sense of justice, and the moral force of parental love is weakened in the constantly-recurring doubts of its existence. That a correct system is within the reach of every parent, can be satisfactorily shown in every reader's experience. My grandfather was one of the kindest and best parents in the world. His children grew up not only to love and obey him, but to idolize him. He taught obedience by one lesson, and rarely had to punish any child more than once. He never inflicted a punishment when his child was nerved for the consequences of a misdemeanor, or when he was himself under the influence of passion. He preserved his own self-command, and thoroughly understood when and how to take each disposition; and these were the secrets of his success, as they must be of every parent who will test them. He taught me a lesson which I shall never forget. It was practical and effectual, and I give it as an illustration in point. The plantations of my grandfather and uncle were separated by a lane running between them, which served as a public road. Their respective houses were situated about a half a mile back from this road, so that it was a half-way place where my cousins and I often met on Saturdays and holidays, to join in the various games and exercises of the day. My grandfather never refused a child's request unless there was some particular reason against it. But it was always necessary to obtain his permission in any new proposition where his pleasure had not been expressed. On a certain bright morning, I glided softly into the room where he was reading, and asked his permission to join my cousins, which he gave without a moment's hesitation. Off I bounded with a light heart, for the game of ball, which we generally played, was my delight. We soon arranged our partners, and were in the full tide of enjoyment, when a servant came running after me with the following message: Massa Ralph, your grandpa wants you 'mediately.' Wants me? It can't be possible. I just now asked his consent, and he gave it cheerfully. Go away, Sol: that message of yours is all gammon!' 'I tell you him do want you! And what's more, it's my private 'pinion you's better trot along fast as your two legs can toat you.' 'Sol, I've a mind not to go one step.' 'Look here, child, you knows jes as well as I does dat old Massa don't talk no nonsens; what he say come mighty easy, but him do n't used to take any no's for answers when him 'spects yeses: you better b'lieve dis niggar' Now, Sol, remember, if I find you have deceived me, I'll never read another hymn over and over for you to learn by heart as long as I live.' To this unworthy doubt the indignant Solomon disdained a reply; but as I walked away, the following soliloquy was borne upon the treacherous winds: 'Well, 'pon my word, now, dat boy know I never done told him an untruff in all my life; but for all dat, dere don't seem to be no way to make white folks' children b'lieve nothin' what ain't 'greeable.' Reader, judge of my surprise and mortification. What could my grandfather want? The boys were half inclined to laugh at my chagrin, but there was no help for it; go I must; and they were in for it, too, for the game had to wait. I promised to hurry back; and off I went, striving to recollect whether I had done any thing wrong. I could not remember any infraction of any known wish or law; and the mystery as to why he sent for me was inexplicable. On reaching the house, in I rushed, and there I found him sitting quietly reading in the same chair in which I had left him. I approached him with such a woe-be-gone countenance as would have almost provoked a smile from a stoic, and thus accosted him: Grandpa, did you want me? To which he replied with the most perfect good-humor : 'Yes, child, I sent for you to shut the door you left open.' The cause was explained. I had hurried out in my selfishness and left him to shut the door after me; and he had waited patiently until I was fairly engaged in play to send for me, that the lesson might make a more lasting impression. It did make an indelible impression; and all I regret is, that all my bad habits had not been cured in the same practical manner. I have said that punishment is a science. To be taught efficiently, the world must resolve itself into a large school-house, and the whole subject commenced de novo, and sifted to the bottom. It is not the work of a day, a month, or a year, but of a century. It is a Herculean task, but it can be accomplished. There must be an end to the criminal farce — I should rather say tragedy — which is daily being enacted in the marriage of boys and girls totally ignorant of the high duties and holy responsibilities of married life. There must be a just appreciation of the married relation, a thorough knowledge of each other, and a full and entire moral, mental, and physical sympathy. The children of such parents will have the elements of happiness in an eminent degree; and the watchful care of well-trained and appreciative parents will develope a generation which will ultimately realize the highest earthly progress. 'GOO NIGHT, MY FRIENDS, GOOD NIGHT: A SONG THE moon across the river throws A fairy bridge of light; I've willing waited till she rose: Me far from yonder river's flow, Thoughts of my future, drear and dark, Though billows wild o'erwhelm The reckless feel no fears. Not life's fierce battle, or its din their bark, This heart, though tender, beats within It is to give the parting hand, Good-night! my friends-good-night! Strange are the spectres that glimmer And dance across the floor; Strange as the elfs in legends The sound of their meeting seemeth And around an altar sable, Then in tears HOPE sadly speaketh, 'But as years stole on, the casement And the walls grew dark and dingy, Then my cherished rose-buds faded, Now their leaves I garner sadly, Then LOVE, with brow of sadness, A lily's leaves all withered, And lays it with the rest. The sisters bind, while weeping, Rochester, N. Y. Then a strange and fearful brightness And thus through the haunted chamber While the cypress sweeps the casement SKETCHES OF TRAVEL AND CHARACTER LA SEVILLANA. 6 PART SECOND. DEATH lies on her, like an untimely frost 'Twas the great feast of Santa Rosalia, and all Palermo, drunk with excitement, had flocked to the strada Toledo; for the hour was fast approaching when, according to annual custom, the stately car, surmounted by a colossal statue of their patron saint, would be drawn through the entire length of the city, and deposited for the night in the centre of the palace square. On the marina, two fishermen, engaged in earnest conversation, were leaning against a boat, lying bottom upward on the beach, and near them a solitary sentry paced his weary watch, casting, from time to time, a wistful glance toward the Porta Felice, over which could be seen the gilded image of the Holy Maiden, bearing in her right hand, high above the loftiest houses, the sacred. emblem of the crucifixion, while the prolonged shouts of the giddy populace announced that the car was about starting. An American frigate lay at anchor in the harbor, and one of her boats, crowded with officers, was within a cable's length of the mole. Suddenly the elder of the fishermen, throwing off his picturesque garb, displayed underneath the neat uniform of a sergeant of Spanish Foot. At this strange transformation, his companion, becoming pale as death, uttered a wild shriek of terror, and, hurriedly making the sign of the cross, turned to flee; but ere he had gone ten steps, the dagger of the Spaniard had drank his heart's blood, and he fell lifeless on the sand. The sentinel immediately gave the alarm, and a score of soldiers, issuing from the guard-house close by, quickly surrounded the assassin who, without a thought of escape, stood sternly gazing on the rigid features of the dead. Then forming into square, and placing their prisoner in their midst, the squad marched briskly off with fixed bayonets, taking the direction of the Castillo d'oro. At this instant, the eye of the Spaniard met the scrutinizing gaze of one of the Americans who had just landed, and with an effort which seemed almost superhuman, he broke through the serried ranks of his captors, and prostrated himself at his feet. Señor mio!' |