rol his immediate surroundings, this appreciation of the world
through his senses and his muscles, does not end when the child has
gained some sense of his own self as distinguished from the world,--of
the "me" and the "not me,"--or achieved some ability to expand
temporarily the "here" and the "now" into the "there" and the "then."
The process is a precious one and should not be interrupted and confused
by the interjection of remote or impersonal material. He still thinks
and feels primarily through his own immediate experiences. If this
is interfered with he is left without his natural material for
experimentation for he cannot yet experiment easily in the world of the
intangible. Moreover to the child the familiar _is_ the interesting. And
it remains so I believe through that transition period,--somewhere about
seven years,--when the child becomes poignantly aware of the world
outside his own immediate experience,--of an order, physical or social,
which he does not determine, and so gradually develops a sense of
standards of what is to be expected in the world of nature or of his
fellows along with a sense of workmanship. It is only the blind eye of
the adult that finds the familiar uninteresting. The attempt to amuse
children by presenting them with the strange, the bizarre, the unreal,
is the unhappy result of this adult blindness. Children do not find the
unusual piquant until they are firmly acquainted with the usual; they do
not find the preposterous humorous until they have intimate knowledge of
ordinary behavior; they do not get the point of alien environments until
they are securely oriented in their own. Too often we mistake excitement
for genuine interest and give the children stimulus instead of food. The
fairy story, the circus, novelty hunting, delight the sophisticated
adult; they excite and confuse the child. Red Riding-Hood and circus
Indians excite the little child; Cinderella confuses him. Not one
clarifies any relationship which will further his efforts to order
the world. Nonsense when recognized and enjoyed as such is more than
legitimate; it is a part of every one's heritage. But nonsense which is
confused with reality is vicious,--the more so because its insinuations
are subtle. So far as their content is concerned, it is chiefly as
a protest against this confusing presentation of unreality, this
substitution of excitement for legitimate interest, that these stories
have been written. It is not t