PRNCIPLE 2：
Show respect for the other person’s opinions.
Never say， “You’re wrong.”
Within a minute’s walk of my house there was a wild stretch ofvirgin timber， where the blackberry thickets foamed white in thespringtime， where the squirrels nested and reared their young，and the horseweeds grew as tall as a horse’s head. This unspoiledwoodland was called Forest Park—and it was a forest， probablynot much different in appearance from what it was whenColumbus discovered America. I frequently walked in this parkwith Rex， my little Boston bulldog. He was a friendly， harmlesslittle hound； and since we rarely met anyone in the park， I tookRex along without a leash or a muzzle.
One day we encountered a mounted policeman in the park， apoliceman itching to show his authority.
“What do you mean by letting that dog run loose in the parkwithout a muzzle and leash？” he reprimanded me. “Don’t youknow it’s against the law？”
“Yes， I know it is，” I replied softy， “but I didn’t think he woulddo any harm out here.”
“You didn’t think！ You didn’t think！ The law doesn’t givea tinker’s damn about what you think. That dog might kill asquirrel or bite a child. Now， I’m going to let you off this time； butif 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 racedover the brow of a hill one afternoon and there， suddenly—to mydismay—I saw the majesty of the law， astride a bay horse. Rexwas out in front， heading straight for the officer.
I was in for it. I knew it. So I didn’t wait until the policemanstarted talking. I beat him to it. I said：“Officer， you’ve caught mered-handed. I’m guilty. I have no alibis， no excuses. You warnedme last week that if I brought the dog out here again without amuzzle you would fine me.”
“Well， now，” the policeman responded in a soft tone.“I knowit’s a temptation to let a little dog like that have a run out herewhen 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，” thepoliceman remonstrated.
“No， but he may kill squirrels，” I said.
“Well now， I think you are taking this a bit too seriously，” hetold me. “I’ll tell you what you do. You just let him run over thehill 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 couldnourish his self-esteem was to take the magnanimous attitude ofshowing mercy.
But suppose I had tried to defend myself—well， did you everargue with a policeman？
But instead of breaking lances with him， I admitted that hewas absolutely right and I was absolutely wrong； I admitted itquickly， openly， and with enthusiasm. The affair terminatedgraciously in my taking his side and his taking my side.
If we know we are going to be rebuked anyhow， isn’t it farbetter to beat the other person to it and do it ourselves？ Isn’t it much easier to listen to self-criticism than to bear condemnationfrom alien lips？ Say about yourself all the derogatory things youknow the other person is thinking or wants to say or intends tosay—and say them before that person has a chance to say them.
The chances are a hundred to one that a generous， forgivingattitude will be taken and your mistakes will be minimized just asthe mounted policeman did with me and Rex.
