school curriculum. I, therefore, propose to speak of other effects of
story-telling which may seem of more practical value.

The first, which is of a purely negative character, is that through
means of a dramatic story we may counteract some of the sights and
sounds of the street which appeal to the melodramatic instinct in
children. I am sure that all teachers whose work lies in crowded
cities must have realized the effect produced on children by what they
see and hear on their way to and from school. If we merely consider
the bill boards with their realistic representations, quite apart from
the actual dramatic happenings in the street, we at once perceive that
the ordinary school interests pale before such lurid appeals as these.
How can we expect the child who has stood openmouthed before a poster
representing a woman chloroformed by a burglar (while that hero
escapes in safety with jewels) to display any interest in the arid
monotony of the multiplication table? The illegitimate excitement
created by the sight of the depraved burglar can only be counteracted
by something equally exciting along the realistic but legitimate side
of appeal; and this is where the story of the right kind becomes so
valuable, and why the teacher who is artistic enough to undertake the
task can find the short path to results which theorists seek for so
long in vain. It is not even necessary to have an exceedingly
exciting story; sometimes one which will bring about pure reaction may
be just as suitable.

I remember in my personal experience an instance of this kind. I had
been reading with some children of about ten years old the story from
"Cymbeline" of _Imogen_ in the forest scene, when the brothers strew
flowers upon her, and sing the funeral dirge,