grade of a logical sequence to another, their minds--at first beguiled by
the fascination of the steps--glide into the habit of following any
logical sequence. My club formed its habit, as far as I was concerned,
all in one session; the ordinary demands of school procedure lengthen the
process, but the result is equally sure. By the end of a week in which the
children have listened happily to a story every day, the habit of
listening and deducing has been formed, and the expectation of
pleasantness is connected with the opening of the teacher's lips.

These two benefits are well worth the trouble they cost, and for these
two, at least, any teacher who tells a story well may confidently
look--the quick gaining of a confidential relation with the children, and
the gradual development of concentration and interested attention in them.

These are direct and somewhat clearly discernible results, comfortably
placed in a near future. There are other aims, reaching on into the far,
slow modes of psychological growth, which must equally determine the
choice of the story-teller's material and inform the spirit of her work.
These other, less immediately attainable ends, I wish now to consider in
relation to the different types of story by which they are severally best
served.

First, unbidden claimant of attention, comes

THE FAIRY STORY

No one can think of a child and a story, without thinking of the fairy
tale. Is this, as some would have us believe, a bad habit of an ignorant
old world? Or can the Fairy Tale justify her popularity with truly
edifying and educational results? Is she a proper person to introduce