him. He followed, till, supposing he had beaten me, he returned to the
geese, who appeared to receive him with acclamations of joy, cackling very
loud, and seeming actually to laugh, and to enjoy the triumph of their
gallant chief.

_Emma._ I wish I had been with you, Charles; I have often admired the
gambols of these beautiful birds, and wondered how they came by the
appellation of _silly_, which is generally bestowed on them. I remember
Martha, our nursery maid, used often to call me a _silly goose_. How came
they to deserve that term, mamma? they appear to me to have as much
intelligence as any of the feathered tribe.

_Mrs. Lismore._ I have often thought with you, Emma, and supposed that
term, like many others, misapplied, for want of examining into the justice
of so degrading an epithet.


+23. Improbability.+--Up to this point we have been concerned with
relating events that _could_ exist, though we knew that they _did_ not. We
may, however, imagine a series of events that are manifestly impossible.
There is a pleasure in inventing improbable stories, and if we know from
the beginning that they are to be so, we enjoy listening to them. Such
tales are more satisfactory to young persons than to older ones, as is
shown by our declining interest in fairy stories as we grow older.

By limiting the improbability to a part of the story, it is possible to
give an air of reality to the whole. Though the conditions described in a
story about a trip to the moon might be wholly impossible, yet the reader
for the time being might feel that the events were actually happening if
the characters in the story were acting as real men would act under