The fairy tale has a place in the training of children which common
sense and a sympathetic attitude toward childhood will not deny. Some
rigid philosophers, who see no more of life than is to be found in
logical science, condemn the imaginative tale. They regard the
teaching of myths and stories as the telling of pleasant lies, which,
if harmless, are wasteful. What the child acquires through them, he
must sooner or later forget or unlearn.

Such arguments carry conviction until one perceives that their authors
are measuring the worth of all teaching in terms of strictly
intellectual products. Life is more than precise information; it is
impulse and action. The fairy tale is a literary rather than a
scientific achievement. Its realities are matters of feeling, in which
thought is a mere skeleton to support the adventure. It matters little
that the facts alleged in the story never were and never can be. The
values and ideals which enlist the child's sympathy are morally
worthy, affording a practice to those fundamental prejudices toward
right and wrong which are the earliest acquisitions of a young soul.
The other characteristics of the tale--the rhythmic, the grotesque,
the weird, and the droll--are mere recreation, the abundant
playfulness which children require to rest them from the dangers and
terrors which fascinate them.

The fairy tale, like every other literary production, must be judged
by the fitness of its emotional effects. Fairyland is the stage-world
of childhood, a realm of vicarious living, more elemental and more
fancy-free than the perfected dramas of sophisticated adults whose
ingrained acceptance of binding realities demands sterner stuff. The
tales are classics of a particular kind; they are children's classics,