back under the bed where he was afraid to look for the hidden monster which he
was sure was hiding there and yet dare not face! The lonely lane through which
the cows were to be driven late at night, while every fence corner bristled with
shapeless monsters lying in wait for boys!
And that hated dark closet where he was shut up "until he could learn to be
good!" And the useless trapdoor in the ceiling. How often have we lain in the
dim light at night and seen the lid lift just a peep for ogre eyes to peer out, and,
when the terror was growing beyond endurance, close down, only to lift once
and again, until from sheer weariness and exhaustion we fell into a troubled
sleep and dreamed of the hideous monster which inhabited the unused garret!
Tell me that the old trapdoor never bent its hinges in response to either man or
monster for twenty years? I know it is true, and yet I am not convinced. My
childish fears have left a stronger impression than proof of mere facts can ever
overrule.
Fear of Being Left Alone.—And the fear of being left alone. How big and
dreadful the house seemed with the folks all gone! How we suddenly made close
friends with the dog or the cat, even, in order that this bit of life might be near
us! Or, failing in this, we have gone out to the barn among the chickens and the
pigs and the cows, and deserted the empty house with its torture of loneliness.
What was there so terrible in being alone? I do not know. I know only that to
many children it is a torture more exquisite than the adult organism is fitted to
experience.
But why multiply the recollections? They bring a tremor to the strongest of us
today. Who of us would choose to live through those childish fears again?
Dream fears, fears of animals, fears of furry things, fears of ghosts and of death,
dread of fatal diseases, fears of fire and of water, of strange persons, of storms,
fears of things unknown and even unimagined, but all the more fearful! Would
you all like to relive your childhood for its pleasures if you had to take along
with them its sufferings? Would the race choose to live its evolution over again?
I do not know. But, for my own part, I should very much hesitate to turn the
hands of time backward in either case. Would that the adults at life's noonday, in
remembering the childish fears of life's morning, might feel a sympathy for the
children of today, who are not yet escaped from the bonds of the fear instinct.
Would that all might seek to quiet every foolish childish fear, instead of laughing
at it or enhancing it!