regards them as confidants, sharers of its every secret. If this had happened in my own case, I might have been spared a world of woe after puberty. To preserve the frankness of the "angel child," not even a mild rebuke should ever be administered for its sexual lapses; but kind persuasion alone, and care that the child does not again come into exciting surroundings.
My own parents and teachers never vouchsafed the least sex knowledge. I once asked where babies came from. Doctors found them in the street gutters and brought them to people's houses. Instinct and older boys were my only instructors. Parents, teachers, but preferably the school physician, should begin with children of six a clean initiation into these mysteries—absorbing even to youngsters of that tender age—to replace the hitherto regnant nasty one wrought by child lore handed down, from mouth to mouth, through the centuries, and characterized by unprintable words, in uttering, seeing, and hearing which numerous children seem to take delight.
Or is the subject of sex irreformable and hopeless? Is it really the crying shame of the human race? From my third to seventh year, F'ank and I were drawn toward one another. I yearned to recline in his arms. "F'ank," I once said, "I'm not af'aid on your lap. But I'm af'aid nearly always. I'm af'aid, when I get as big as papa, hair 'll grow on my cheeks, like on his. How could I ever use a horrible wazor, like him! I hope I'll die before I get big!"
I was destined to be a sort of pet with others of the more stalwart boys. It was because I retained my babyishness—like an idiot—at least down to the age
