in their intellectual aspect, so far as they have one. Here I am only
trying to describe the enormous emotions which cannot be described.
And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it
was puzzling. It was an ecstasy because it was an adventure;
it was an adventure because it was an opportunity. The goodness
of the fairy tale was not affected by the fact that there might be
more dragons than princesses; it was good to be in a fairy tale.
The test of all happiness is gratitude; and I felt grateful,
though I hardly knew to whom. Children are grateful when Santa
Claus puts in their stockings gifts of toys or sweets. Could I
not be grateful to Santa Claus when he put in my stockings the gift
of two miraculous legs? We thank people for birthday presents
of cigars and slippers. Can I thank no one for the birthday present
of birth?

There were, then, these two first feelings, indefensible and
indisputable. The world was a shock, but it was not merely shocking;
existence was a surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise. In fact,
all my first views were exactly uttered in a riddle that stuck
in my brain from boyhood. The question was, "What did the first
frog say?" And the answer was, "Lord, how you made me jump!"
That says succinctly all that I am saying. God made the frog jump;
but the frog prefers jumping. But when these things are settled
there enters the second great principle of the fairy philosophy.

Any one can see it who will simply read "Grimm's Fairy Tales"
or the fine collections of Mr. Andrew Lang. For the pleasure
of pedantry I will call it the Doctrine of Conditional Joy.
Touchstone talked of much virtue in an "if"; according to elfin ethics
all virtue is in an "if." The note of the fairy utterance always is,