And a jolly job too, but he'd have gone a long way to have killed him.
A gold ring in one ear, and the other was bit off by a crocodile, bedad,
That's what he said: He taught me how to chew.
He was a real nice man. He liked me too.
The taste that is fed by the sensational contents of the newspapers and the dramatic excitement of street life, and some of the lurid representations of the Kinematograph, is so much stimulated that the interest in normal stories is difficult to rouse. I will not here dwell on the deleterious effects of over dramatic stimulation, which has been known to lead to crime, since I am keener to prevent the telling of too many sensational stories than to suggest a cure when the mischief is done. Kate Douglas Wiggin has said:
“Let us be realistic, by all means, but beware, O Story-teller, of being too realistic. Avoid the shuddering tale of ‘the wicked boy who stoned the birds,’ lest some hearer should be inspired to try the dreadful experiment and see if it really does kill.”
I must emphasise the fact, however, that it is only the excess of this dramatic element which I deplore. A certain amount of excitement is necessary; but this question belongs to the positive side of the subject, and I shall deal with it later on.
V.—Stories presenting matters quite outside the plane of the child (unless they are wrapped in mystery, which is of great educational value).
The element I wish to eliminate is the one which would make children world-wise and old before their time.
A small American child who had entertained a guest in her mother's absence, when questioned as to whether she had shown all the hospitality the mother would have considered necessary, said: “Oh! yes. And I talked to her in the kind of ‘dressy’ tone you use on your ‘At Home’ days.”