one dizzy.

The trouble in such work is, plainly, a
lack of discriminating analysis. Telling a
story necessarily implies non-identification
of the teller with the event; he relates what
occurs or occurred, outside of his circle of
consciousness. Acting a play necessarily
implies identification of the actor with the
event; he presents to you a picture of the
thing, in himself. It is a difference wide
and clear, and the least failure to recognize
it confuses the audience and injures both
arts.

In the preceding instances of secondary
uses of story-telling I have come some
distance from the great point, the fundamental
point, of the power of imitation in
breeding good habit. This power is less
noticeably active in the dramatizing than in
simple re-telling; in the listening and the re-
telling, it is dominant for good. The child
imitates what he hears you say and sees
you do, and the way you say and do it, far
more closely in the story-hour than in any
lesson-period. He is in a more absorbent
state, as it were, because there is no
preoccupation of effort. Here is the great
opportunity of the cultured teacher; here is