There are two things to be said. The first is a reminder of the wisdom of
choosing stories in which you originally have interest; and of having a
store large enough to permit variety. The second applies to those
inevitable times of weariness which attack the most interested and
well-stocked story-teller. You are, perhaps, tired out physically. You
have told a certain story till it seems as if a repetition of it must
produce bodily effects dire to contemplate, yet that happens to be the
very story you must tell. What can you do? I answer, "Make believe." The
device seems incongruous with the repeated warnings against pretence; but
it is necessary, and it is wise. Pretend as hard as ever you can to be
interested. And the result will be--before you know it--that you will _be_
interested. That is the chief cause of the recommendation; it brings about
the result it simulates. Make believe, as well as you know how, and the
probability is that you will not even know when the transition from
pretended to real interest comes.
And fortunately, the children never know the difference. They have not
that psychological infallibility which is often attributed to them. They
might, indeed, detect a pretence which continued through a whole tale; but
that is so seldom necessary that it needs little consideration.
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