He is all in the
game with the intense engrossment of a lad I knew, who, while playing
Robinson Crusoe, ate snails with relish for oysters.
Throughout the first series of "Wonder Tales" there is a capital air of
make-believe, which imposes upon you most delightfully, and makes you
accept the most incredible doings, as you accept them in a dream, as the
most natural thing in the world. In the later series, where the didactic
tale becomes more frequent ("The Pine Tree," "The Wind's Tale," "The
Buckwheat"), there is an occasional forced note. The story-teller
becomes a benevolent, moralizing uncle, who takes the child upon his
knee, in order to instruct while entertaining it. But he is no more in
the game. A cloying sweetness of tone, such as sentimental people often
adopt toward children, spoils more than one of the fables; and when
occasionally he ventures upon a love-story ("The Rose-Elf," "The Old
Bachelor's Nightcap," "The Porter's Son"), he is apt to be as
unintentionally amusing as he is in telling his own love episode in "The
Fairy-Tale of My Life.
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