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certain others； but unless you do something
more than that and before that； you are as
one who should use the Venus of Milo for a
demonstration in anatomy。
The message of the story is the message of
beauty； as effective as that message in marble
or paint。 Its part in the economy of life is TO
GIVE JOY。 And the purpose and working of the
joy is found in that quickening of the spirit
which answers every perception of the truly
beautiful in the arts of man。 To give joy； in
and through the joy to stir and feed the life
of the spirit： is not this the legitimate function
of the story in education？
Because I believe it to be such； not because
I ignore the value of other uses； I venture to
push aside all aims which seem secondary to
this for later mention under specific heads。
Here in the beginning of our consideration I
wish to emphasise this element alone。 A story
is a work of art。 Its greatest use to the child
is in the everlasting appeal of beauty by which
the soul of man is constantly pricked to new
hungers； quickened to new perceptions and so
given desire to grow。
The obvious practical bearing of this is that
story…telling is first of all an art of entertainment；
like the stage； its immediate purpose is
the pleasure of the hearer；his pleasure； not
his instruction； first。
Now the story…teller who has given the
listening children such pleasure as I mean may
or may not have added a fact to the content of
their minds； she has inevitably added something
to the vital powers of their souls。 She
has given a wholesome exercise to the emotional
muscles of the spirit； has opened up new
windows to the imagination； and added some
line or colour to the ideal of life and art which
is always taking form in the heart of a child。
She has； in short； accomplished the one greatest
aim of story…telling；to enlarge and enrich the
child's spiritual experience； and stimulate healthy
reaction upon it。
Of course this result cannot be seen and
proved as easily and early as can the apprehension
of a fact。 The most one can hope to
recognise is its promise； and this is found in
the tokens of that genuine pleasure which is
itself the means of accomplishment。 It is；
then； the signs of right pleasure which the
story…teller must look to for her guide； and
which it must be her immediate aim to evoke。
As for the recognition of the signs；no one
who has ever seen the delight of a real child
over a real story can fail to know the signals
when given； or flatter himself into belief in
them when absent。
Intimately connected with the enjoyment
given are two very practically beneficial results
which the story…teller may hope to obtain； and
at least one of which will be a kind of reward
to herself。 The first is a relaxation of the tense
schoolroom atmosphere； valuable for its refreshing
recreative power。 The second result； or
aim； is not so obvious； but is even more
desirable； it is this： story…telling is at once one
of the simplest and quickest ways of establishing
a happy relation between teacher and
children； and one of the most effective methods
of forming the habit of fixed attention in the latter。
If you have never seen an indifferent child
aroused or a hostile one conquered to affection
by a beguiling tale； you can hardly appreciate
the truth of the first statement； but nothing
is more familiar in the story…teller's experience。
An amusing； butto metouching experience
recently reaffirmed in my mind this power of
the story to establish friendly relations。
My three…year…old niece； who had not seen
me since her babyhood； being told that Aunt
Sara was coming to visit her； somehow confused
the expected guest with a more familiar aunt；
my sister。 At sight of me； her rush of welcome
relapsed into a puzzled and hurt withdrawal；
which yielded to no explanations or proffers of
affection。 All the first day she followed me
about at a wistful distance； watching me as if
I might at any moment turn into the well…known
and beloved relative I ought to have been。
Even by undressing time I had not progressed
far enough to be allowed intimate approach to
small sacred nightgowns and diminutive shirts。
The next morning； when I opened the door of
the nursery where her maid was brushing her
hair； the same dignity radiated from the little
round figure perched on its high chair； the same
almost hostile shyness gazed at me from the
great expressive eyes。 Obviously； it was time
for something to be done。
Disregarding my lack of invitation； I drew
up a stool； and seating myself opposite the
small unbending person； began in a conversational
murmur： 〃Mm； I guess those are
tingly…tanglies up there in that curl Lottie's
combing； did you ever hear about the tingly…
tanglies？ They live in little girls' hair； and
they aren't any bigger than THAT； and when
anybody tries to comb the hair they curl both
weeny legs round； SO； and hold on tight with
both weeny hands； SO； and won't let go！〃 As
I paused； my niece made a queer little sound
indicative of query battling with reserve。 I
pursued the subject： 〃They like best to live
right over a little girl's ear； or down in her neck；
because it is easier to hang on； there； tingly…
tanglies are very smart； indeed。〃
〃What's ti…ly…ta…lies？〃 asked a curious；
guttural little voice。
I explained the nature and genesis of tingly…
tanglies； as revealed to me some decades before
by my inventive mother； and proceeded to
develop their simple adventures。 When next I
paused the small guttural voice demanded；
〃Say more；〃 and I joyously obeyed。
When the curls were all curled and the last
little button buttoned； my baby niece climbed
hastily down from her chair； and deliberately up
into my lap。 With a caress rare to her habit she
spoke my name； slowly and tentatively； 〃An…ty
Sai…ry？〃 Then； in an assured tone； 〃Anty Sairy；
I love you so much I don't know what to do！〃
And； presently； tucking a confiding hand in
mine to lead me to breakfast； she explained
sweetly； 〃I didn' know you when you comed
las' night； but now I know you all th' time！〃
〃Oh； blessed tale；〃 thought I； 〃so easy a
passport to a confidence so desired； so complete！〃
Never had the witchery of the story to
the ear of a child come more closely home to
me。 But the fact of the witchery was no new
experience。 The surrender of the natural child
to the story…teller is as absolute and invariable
as that of a devotee to the priest of his own sect。
This power is especially valuable in the case
of children whose natural shyness has been
augmented by rough environment or by the
strangeness of foreign habit。 And with such
children even more than with others it is also
true that the story is a simple and effective
means of forming the habit of concentration；
of fixed attention； any teacher who deals with
this class of children knows the difficulty of
doing this fundamental and indispensable thing；
and the value of any practical aid in doing it。
More than one instance of the power of story…
telling to develop attentiveness comes to my
mind； but the most prominent in memory is a
rather recent incident； in which the actors were
boys and girls far past the child…stage of docility。
I had been asked to tell stories to about
sixty boys and girls of a club； the president
warned me in her invitation that the children
were exceptionally undisciplined； but my previous
experiences with similar gatherings led me to
interpret her words with a moderation which
left me totally unready for the reality。 When
I faced my audience； I saw a squirming jumble
of faces； backs of heads； and the various
members of many small bodies；not a person
in the room was paying the slightest attention
to me； the president's introduction could
scarcely be said to succeed in interrupting the
interchange of social amenities which was in
progress； and which looked delusively like a
free fight。 I came as near stage fright in the
first minutes of that occasion as it is comfortable
to be； and if it had not been impossible to
run away I think I should not have remained。
But I began； with as funny a tale as I knew；
following the safe plan of not speaking very
loudly； and aiming my effort at the nearest
children。 As I went on； a very few faces held
intelligently to mine； the majority answered
only fitfully； and not a few of my hearers
conversed with their neighbours as if I were non…
existent。 The sense of bafflement； the futile
effort； forced the perspiration to my hands and
faceyet something in the faces before me told
me that it was no ill…will that fought against
me； it was the apathy of minds without the
power or habit of concentration； unable to follow
a sequence of ideas any distance； and rendered
more restless by bodies which