“Dictated but not read.” I was quite impressed. I felt that the writer must be very big and busy and important. I wasn’t theslightest bit busy， but I was eager to make an impression onRichard Harding Davis， so I ended my short note with the words：
“Dictated but not read.”
He never troubled to answer the letter. He simply returned itto me with this scribbled across the bottom： “Your bad mannersare exceeded only by your bad manners.” True， I had blundered，and perhaps I deserved this rebuke. But， being human， I resentedit. I resented it so sharply that when I read of the death of RichardHarding Davis ten years later， the one thought that still persisted inmy mind—I am ashamed to admit—was the hurt he had given me.
If you and I want to stir up a resentment tomorrow that mayrankle across the decades and endure until death， just let usindulge in a little stinging criticism—no matter how certain weare that it is justified.
When dealing with people， let us remember we are not dealingwith creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion，creatures bristling with prejudices and motivated by pride andvanity.
Bitter criticism caused the sensitive Thomas Hardy， one ofthe finest novelists ever to enrich English literature， to give upforever the writing of fiction. Criticism drove Thomas Chatterton，the English poet， to suicide.
Benjamin Franklin， tactless in his youth， became so diplomatic，so adroit at handling people， that he was made AmericanAmbassador to France. The secret of his success？ “I will speak ill ofno man，” he said， “... and speak all the good I know of everybody.”
Any fool can criticize， condemn and complain—and most foolsdo. But it takes character and self-control to be understandingand forgiving.
“A great man shows his greatness，” said Carlyle， “by the wayhe treats little men.”
Bob Hoover， a famous test pilot and frequent performer at airshows， was returning to his home in Los Angeles from an air showin San Diego. As described in the magazine Flight Operations， atthree hundred feet in the air， both engines suddenly stopped. Bydeft maneuvering he managed to land the plane， but it was badlydamaged although nobody was hurt.
Hoover’s first act after the emergency landing was to inspectthe airplane’s fuel. Just as he suspected， the World War II propellerplane he had been flying had been fueled with jet fuel rather thangasoline.
Upon returning to the airport， he asked to see the mechanicwho had serviced his airplane. The young man was sick with theagony of his mistake. Tears streamed down his face as Hooverapproached. He had just caused the loss of a very expensive planeand could have caused the loss of three lives as well.
You can imagine Hoover’s anger. One could anticipate thetongue-lashing that this proud and precise pilot would unleashfor that carelessness. But Hoover didn’t scold the mechanic； hedidn’t even criticize him. Instead， he put his big arm around theman’s shoulder and said， “To show you I’m sure that you’ll neverdo this again， I want you to service my F-51 tomorrow.”
Often parents are tempted to criticize their children. Youwould expect me to say “don’t.” But I will not， I am merely goingto say， “Before you criticize them， read one of the classics ofAmerican journalism， ‘Father Forgets.’ ”
FATHER FORGETS
W. Livingston Larned
