interest is an effort to answer for themselves the prayer that is attributed to this jazz age, "Give us this day our daily thrill"; too much of a harbor for the middle-aged failure in everything else, who for financial reasons wants some sure money, coming at regular intervals, "with keep furnished." Quoting Paul, "Brethren and sisters, these things ought not so to be." Boards of control, legislators, and the public have the attitude that any old thing is good enough, generally, "for that kind of girls." The truth of the matter is that few things are good enough and nothing is too good. Our only hope for our girls is to give to them "whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are lovely, and whatsoever things are of good report." A tremendous change of attitude will have to take place before we will be able to find those men and women who, in all relationships with delinquents, will be able to give of those riches which are within, which are so necessary. I rather doubt if this 'difficulty is altogether a matter of low salaries. The most devoted workers and the most effectual in schools for delinquents are not well paid. In fact, the sense of "importancy," as we say down south, which too frequently comes to even the social workers with the high salary, often militates against the possession of that quality which is the sine qua non for successful work, humility. There are no more successful workers with delinquents in the world than the unpaid sisters of the Houses of the Good Shepherd, because they have realized the truth of the social worker's creed so well formulated by Owen Lovejoy, "God is a Father; man is a brother; life is a mission and not a career; dominion is service, its sceptre is gladness; the least is the greatest; saving is dying; giving is living; life is eternal and love is its crown." When we stand baffled, as did the disciples of old in the presence of the demoniac, and ask in despair, "Why cannot we cast out devils?" the simple answer comes, which is as true today as it was two thousand years ago, "This kind cometh not out except by prayer and fasting." By "prayer" the Master did not mean the "praying machine" that revolves night and morning in most institutions, but rather a spiritual-mindedness which makes possible constant, unremitting faith, patience, and love. Nor by "fasting" do I feel that he could have meant an unreasonable abstinence from physical food, which, after all, is so incidental, but rather the spirit of unselfishness or even self-immolation which might well be expressed in the words of John the Baptist in referring to the Messiah, "He must increase, but I must decrease." A notable poem which, unfortunately, does not seem to have been sufficiently broadcasted, was some time ago written by Jess Pearlman. It too often characterizes the attitude of social workers:

He serves and struts; he cannot give
Himself and leave himself unsung.
He'd gladly die that they might live
Who less from life's rare stores have rung;

But of his dying hour, half

He'd use to write his epitaph.

There is no questioning his great

Unflagging service to his neighbors,

But like a child whose drawings wait
For names, He labels all his labors.
He serves and struts, as peacocks must,
Trailing his glory in the dust.

The person who goes into work for delinquent children with any ulterior motive stands as the greatest reason why institutions do not prepare for normal, social relationships. But there is a leaven of workers with disinterested motives, to whom is attributable such success as institutions attain.

Can the institution equip a girl for normal, social relationships? Not if it fails to recognize the intrinsic worth of the so-called "delinquent girl." I have used the word "intrinsic" deliberately because of its connotation of core, pith, and backbone. When will social workers with these girls realize the essentiality of Browning's conclusion:

Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise

From outward things, whate'er you may believe.
There is an inmost centre in us all,

Where truth abides in fulness; . . . . and to know

Rather consists in opening out a way

Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape,
Than in effecting entry for a light
Supposed to be without.

We have many times marveled at what are called "spontaneous cures" from delinquency. Perhaps we rather resent these demonstrations of children apparently elevating themselves by their own bootstraps. Like Naaman of Syria we wish to make a great display of our "methods and technique of therapy" and say, "I did it," when, many times, taking a child who is broken out with the leprosy of artificiality and dipping her into the river Jordan of naturalness will immediately transform her from an outcast into a normal individual. We oftentimes fail to realize the tremendous truth and human economy involved in the old woman's prayer when she said, "Good Lord, take care of me until blackberry time and then I can take care of myself." In the name of childhood, let us not, through our undervaluing of the individual's worth, complicate a simple situation by our ill-advised attempts at super-salvation. Among the greatest inspirational experiences that I have ever had have been the observations of the heroic fight put up by children in the training school to overcome their own faults, and the realization of the splendid qualities which our children have acquired like "Kiki," on the "corners of streets."

Can the institution equip the girl for normal, social relationships? Not if the institution for girls, in its vocabulary, methods, or sentiment, allows itself to be classified as a penal institution. Dr. Van Waters and a few other people know that the only definition of the delinquent is: "A delinquent is a child whom we have failed to educate properly." And yet the boys' and girls' training schools all over America are, by even the workers with juveniles, classified as penal institutions. It is done by the federal government. Witness the directory which

they get out in census year, in which information about the penitentiaries is bound in the same volume with the information about the girls' training schools. That is the attitude from the point of view of the "outside in," but still many, unfortunately, have the same attitude from the "inside out," as indicated by, for example, the very convenient booklet compiled by a training school for boys, in which the Girls' Training School at Gainesville, Texas, is listed between Ferguson Farm and Harlem Farm, two of the notorious Texas penitentiary colonies. Mr. Frank Tannenbaum wrote up the Texas Girls' Training School in an article on "Southern Prisons." The public takes its cue from the institutional people, and the child we have been trying to educate and treat as a schoolgirl finds herself, when released from the training school, thanks to our shortsightedness, looked upon as an ex-convict. This thing of public sentiment, as it affects the juvenile, is not to be considered lightly. It has blasted the hope of happiness of many a girl who was trying her wings after her training-school stay. I feel that heads of training schools for juveniles are making a grave mistake, far-reaching in its results, when they continue to meet as executives under the banner of the American Prison Association and the National Committee on Prisons and Prison Labor. I have great respect for these organizations. They have most valuable functions, but a mission to childhood is not one of them. Our books on juvenile delinquency are printed in "The Criminal Monograph Series," and it is no wonder that when I went to the Dallas Public Library, in getting data for this paper, in looking for the subject "juvenile delinquency," I was promptly referred to "Crime." Such an attitude on the part of the public has necessitated the losing of his identity by the alumnus of the juvenile training schools. This is particularly true in the case of girls. Our girls in Texas, and no doubt your girls in Colorado and elsewhere, must repress all reference to their training-school days if they dare hope to be accepted on the social level for which they have been prepared. I have had a girl returned to the institution for no other reason than that the family with whom she was living insisted that she inhibit the childlike tendency to refer frequently to the only happy years which she had ever spent-those at the Training School. The conflict which is almost bound to result in such an attitude has caused the failure of many a girl on parole. Several years ago when the Texas institution was being attacked, one of the facetious Texas papers inserted the following in its joke column: "There is one thing about an inquiry into such an institution as the Girls' Training School, the alumnae never have meetings to protest." Why not? Because, the public hands hope to a girl with its right hand and withdraws it with its left, unmindful of its utter folly. Must we wait for the great celestial reunion before we see the evidences of joy over the return of one that repenteth on the part of the ninety and nine that safely lie in the shelter of the fold? Can it be that they are conscious of a feeling of insecurity themselves, which they dare not express, as they consistently refuse to make place for the more adventurous lamb?

Can the institution equip the girl for normal, social relationships? Not if it damns by classification and nomenclature. Dickens' character who continually referred to "him that shall be nameless" had the right idea. One perplexed child came to me and said, "Dr. Smith, I just want to ask one question, Am I incorrigible or delinquent?" Down in Texas we still have homes for dependent and neglected children and colonies for the feebleminded, with their cognomens all spread out on the letterheads and painted on the automobiles which take the children to the circus. One lusty "dependent and neglected child" had the courage to protest, and was promptly told, without mincing matters, "Who are you to protest? You are dependent and neglected, whether you like it or not." The state is not always a tactful, gentle parent when in loco parentis.

Can the institution equip the girl for normal, social relationships? Not if the girls are expected to be inarticulate. For example, a man whose opinion I value most highly wrote me that the action on my part of permitting my girls to protest against the use of mechanical restraints which would so mar their happiness and their outlook was unfortunate; that "inmates of such an institution should not be allowed to express an opinion." I cannot agree with my friend. While I am no hobbyist on the subject of what is known as self-government in the institution for delinquents, as I feel that it is often artificial, I do absolutely believe in self-expression. At the Girls' Training School at Gainesville we have for eight years conducted, every Sunday afternoon, what amounts to an open forum. There is no curb whatever put on the questions which the girls are permitted to ask. Every question is read aloud and answered. A framed notice is kept on our bulletin board, giving any girl permission, at any time, to send a sealed, uncensored letter to the board of control. This notice has been up for months, but only one girl has ever taken advantage of the permission.

Can the institution equip the girl for normal, social relationships? Not if it is afraid. Institutional management must be emancipated from fears-fears✓ of criticism, fears of the public, fears of losing the job, fears of politics. The institutional staff, with its ear to the ground, is apt to miss the heart cries of its girls. The institution must not be socially isolated. An institution should have no secrets. Everything should be wide open, from the books to the discipline rooms. The right kind of publicity is most wholesome. Nor must the institution teach its girls to be afraid. Public opinion must be educated and our girls must suffer while the public is learning, but the longer we teach our girls that under no circumstances must they let it be known that they have been in a training school, the longer do we put off the day the public will accept them on their merits.

Can the institution equip the girl for normal, social relationships? Not if it ✔ is lacking in patience. Down in Texas we prevent, by statute, the "swabbing" of oil wells. We retain 50 per cent of the production capacity of the well. But one of the greatest causes of failures with girls is our attempt to hurry up mat

ters. We do this and that to the girl, then we justify ourselves by saying "we have given her a chance, and she wouldn't take it." We rationalize about the "good of the rest of the school," and make a summary disposal of a difficult case. In our part of the country they say that there have been three historical eras, characterized by, first, the passing of the Buffalo; second, the passing of the Indian; and third, the passing of the buck. This is all too true of institutions. We must bring to a child the heart of a child. Children cannot live by bread alone, nor do shining institutional floors and windows compensate for lusterless eyes and hopeless mouths. The "shining morning face" is even more necessary and should be more expected in the institution than elsewhere. Official dignity frequently befogs the institutional atmosphere. Most of it could be dispensed with to advantage.

Can the institution equip the girl for normal, social relationships? Not if it makes an obsession of economy. Business management is indispensable, extravagance is not to be condoned, but such matters should be considered only on the basis of their relative importance. Too many people, in their attitude toward institutions for children, are like the brother in the amen corner in the negro church. A new preacher was trying to arouse a spirit of enthusiasm in his flock. "Brethren," he said, "this church, ordained of God, has got a mission to fulfil, and Brethren, from what I hears, this here church has been a laying down on the job. Brethren, lets make her get up and walk." A brother in the amen corner shouted in approval, "Let her walk, Parson, let her walk." The preacher continued, "Oh Brethren, this here church can walk, but if this here church, ordained of God fulfils her mission, she gotta run." Again the brother in the amen corner cried, "Let her run, Parson, let her run." Spurred on to more grandiloquent heights, the preacher shouted, "Brethren, this here church, ordained of God, can walk, but halleluiah, this here church has got to fly." Instantly came the answer from the amen corner, "Let her fly, Parson, let her fly." "Brethren," responded the preacher, "If this here church, ordained of God, is going to fly, we got to take up a collection and raise enough money to pay the preacher and to build a new church." From the amen corner and the congregation came the universal wail, "Jes' let her walk, Parson, jes' let her walk." ✔ It costs dollars and cents to re-educate a delinquent, but in actual money it costs more not to do it properly, and the real price of human wretchedness can never be estimated. The state should not expect the training school to contribute materially to its own support any more than any other junior school should be supported by the students. At the same time the girls should not be pauperized. Undoubtedly an effort should be made in every case to make the parents of the girl assist in their daughter's support while she is in the institution. This arrangement should be made by the court at the time of commitment. During the girl's stay in the institution she should be given enough work for the general welfare of the institution to enable her to feel that she is holding up her