chapter12.1

Within a minute's walk of my house there was a wild stretch of virgin timber, where the blackberry thickets foamed white in the springtime, where the squirrels nested and reared their young, and the horseweeds grew as tall as a horse's head.

This unspoiled woodland was called Forest Park—and it was a forest, probably not much different in appearance from what it was when Columbus discovered America.

I frequently walked in this park with Rex, my little Boston bulldog.

He was a friendly, harmless little hound; and since we rarely met anyone in the park, I took Rex along without a leash or a muzzle.

One day we encountered a mounted policeman in the park, a policeman itching to show his authority.

"'What do you mean by letting that dog run loose in the park without a muzzle and leash?" he reprimanded me.

"Don't you know it's against the law?"

"Yes, I know it is," I replied softy, "but I didn't think he would do any harm out here."

"You didn't think! You didn't think!

The law doesn't give a tinker's damn about what you think.

That dog might kill a squirrel or bite a child.

Now, I'm going to let you off this time; but if I catch this dog out here again without a muzzle and a leash, you'll have to tell it to the judge ."

I meekly promised to obey.

And I did obey—for a few times.

But Rex didn't like the muzzle, and neither did I; so we decided to take a chance.

Everything was lovely for a while, and then we struck a snag.

Rex and I raced over the brow of a hill one afternoon and there, suddenly—to my dismay—I saw the majesty of the law, astride a bay horse.

Rex was out in front, heading straight for the officer.

I was in for it. I knew it.

So I didn't wait until the policeman started talking.

I beat him to it. I said: "Officer, you've caught me red handed. I'm guilty. I have no alibis, no excuses.

You warned me last week that if I brought the dog out here again without a muzzle you would fine me."

"Well, now," the policeman responded in a soft tone.

"I know it's a temptation to let a little dog like that have a run out here when nobody is around."

"Sure it's a temptation," I replied, "but it is against the law."

"Well, a little dog like that isn't going to harm anybody," the policeman remonstrated.

"No, but he may kill squirrels," I said.

"Well now, I think you are taking this a bit too seriously," he told me.

"I'll tell you what you do.

You just let him run over the hill there where I can't see him—and we'll forget all about it."

That policeman, being human, wanted a feeling of importance; so when I began to condemn myself, the only way he could nourish his self-esteem was to take the magnanimous attitude of showing mercy.

But suppose I had tried to defend myself—well, did you ever argue with a policeman?

But instead of breaking lances with him, I admitted that he was absolutely right and I was absolutely wrong; I admitted it quickly, openly, and with enthusiasm.

The affair terminated graciously in my taking his side and his taking my side.

Lord Chesterfield himself could hardly have been more gracious than this mounted policeman, who, only a week previously, had threatened to have the law on me.

If we know we are going to be rebuked anyhow, isn't it far better to beat the other person to it and do it ourselves?

Isn't it much easier to listen to self-criticism than to bear condemnation from alien lips?

Say about yourself all the derogatory things you know the other person is thinking or wants to say or intends to say—and say them before that person has a chance to say them.

The chances are a hundred to one that a generous, forgiving attitude will be taken and your mistakes will be minimized just as the mounted policeman did with me and Rex.

Michael Cheung, who teaches our course in Hong Kong, told of how the Chinese culture presents some special problems and how sometimes it is necessary to recognize that the benefit of applying a principle may be more advantageous than maintaining an old tradition.

He had one middle-aged class member who had been estranged from his son for many years.

The father had been an opium addict, but was now cured.

In Chinese tradition an older person cannot take the first step.

The father felt that it was up to his son to take the initiative toward a reconciliation.

In an early session, he told the class about the grandchildren he had never seen and how much he desired to be reunited with his son.

His classmates, all Chinese, understood his conflict between his desire and long established tradition.

The father felt that young people should have respect for their elders and that he was right in not giving in to his desire, but to wait for his son to come to him.

Toward the end of the course the father again addressed his class.

"I have pondered this problem," he said.

"Dale Carnegie says, 'If you are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically.'

It is too late for me to admit it quickly, but I can admit it emphatically.

I wronged my son.

He was right in not wanting to see me and to expel me from his life.

I may lose face by asking a younger person's forgiveness, but I was at fault and it is my responsibility to admit this."

The class applauded and gave him their full support.

At the next class he told how he went to his son's house, asked for and received forgiveness and was now embarked on a new relationship with his son, his daughter-in-law and the grandchildren he had at last met.

Elbert Hubbard was one of the most original authors who ever stirred up a nation, and his stinging sentences often aroused fierce resentment.

But Hubbard with his rare skill for handling people frequently turned his enemies into friends.

For example, when some irritated reader wrote in to say that he didn't agree with such and such an article and ended by calling Hubbard this and that, Elbert Hubbard would answer like this: Come to think it over, I don't entirely agree with it myself.

Not everything I wrote yesterday appeals to me today.

I am glad to learn what you think on the subject.

The next time you are in the neighborhood you must visit us and we'll get this subject threshed out for all time.

So here is a handclasp over the miles, and I am, Yours sincerely,

What could you say to a man who treated you like that?

When we are right, let's try to win people gently and tactfully to our way of thinking, and when we are wrong—and that will be surprisingly often, if we are honest with ourselves - let's admit our mistakes quickly and with enthusiasm.

Not only will that technique produce astonishing results; but, believe it or not, it is a lot more fun, under the circumstances, than trying to defend oneself.

Remember the old proverb: "By fighting you never get enough, but by yielding you get more than you expected."

Principle 3—If you are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically.