saves them from the fate of those other
children who hold on to a monotonous task so long that they finally
incapacitate themselves for all work. It often seems to me an
expression of the instinct of self-preservation, as in the case of a
young Swedish boy who during a period of two years abandoned one piece
of factory work after another, saying "he could not stand it," until
in the chagrin following the loss of his ninth place he announced his
intention of leaving the city and allowing his mother and little
sisters to shift for themselves. At this critical juncture a place was
found for him as lineman in a telephone company; climbing telephone
poles and handling wires apparently supplied him with the elements of
outdoor activity and danger which were necessary to hold his
interest, and he became the steady support of his family.

But while we know the discouraging effect of idleness upon the boy who
has thrown up his job and refuses to work again, and we also know the
restlessness and lack of discipline resulting from the constant change
from one factory to another, there is still a third manifestation of
maladjustment of which one's memory and the Juvenile Court records
unfortunately furnish many examples. The spirit of revolt in these
cases has led to distinct disaster. Two stories will perhaps be
sufficient in illustration although they might be multiplied
indefinitely from my own experience.

A Russian girl who went to work at an early age in a factory, pasting
labels on mucilage bottles, was obliged to surrender all her wages to
her father who, in return, gave her only the barest necessities of
life. In a fit of revolt against the monotony of her work, and "that
nasty sticky stuff," she stole from her father $300 which he had
hidden away under the floor of his kitchen, and with this money she
ran away to a neighboring city for a spree, having first bought
herself the most gorgeous clothing a local department store could
supply. Of course, this preposterous beginning could have but one
ending and the child was sent to the reform school to expiate not only
her own sins but the sins of those who had failed to rescue her from a
life of grinding monotony which her spirit could not brook.

"I know the judge thinks I am a bad girl," sobbed a poor little
prisoner, put under bonds for threatening to kill her lover, "but I
have only been bad for one week and before that I was good for six
years. I worked every day in Bl