My answer to this is that humor means so much more than is usually understood by this term. So many people seem to think that to have a sense of humor is merely to be tickled by a funny element in a story. It surely means something much more subtle than this. It is Thackeray who says: "If humor only meant laughter, but the humorist profess to awaken and direct your love, your pity, your kindness, your scorn for untruth and pretension, your tenderness for the weak, the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy." So that, in our stories, the introduction of humor should not merely depend on the doubtful amusement that follows on a sense of incongruity. It should inculcate a sense of proportion brought about by an effort of imagination; it shows a child its real position in the universe and prevents hasty conclusions. It shortens the period of joy in horse-play and practical jokes. It brings about a clearer perception of all situations, enabling the child to get the point of view of another person. It is the first instilling of philosophy into the mind of a child and prevents much suffering later on when the blows of life fall upon him; for a sense of humor teaches us at an early age not to expect too much: and this philosophy can be developed with cynicism or pessimism, without even destroying the _joie de vivre_. One cannot, however, sufficiently emphasize the fact that these far- reaching results can be brought about only by humor quite distinct from the broader fun and hilarity which have also their use in an educational scheme. From my own experience, I have learned that development of humor is with most children extremely slow. It _is_ quite natural and quite right that at first pure fun, obvious situations and elementary jokes should please them, but we can very gradually appeal to something more subtle, and if I were asked what story would educate our children most thoroughly in appreciation of humor, I should say that "Alice in Wonderland" was the most effective. What better object lesson could be given in humorous form of taking somebody else's point of view than that given to _Alice_ by the _Mock Turtle_ in speaking of the _Whiting_-- "You know what they're like?" "I believe so," said Alice. "They have their tails in their mouths-- and they're all over crumbs." "You're wrong about the crumbs," said the Mock Turtle. "Crumbs would all wash off in the sea." Or when _Alice_ is speaking to the _Mouse_ of her cat, and says: "She is such a dear quiet thing--and a capital one for catching mice---" and then suddenly realizes the point of view of the _Mouse_, who was "trembling down to the end of its tail." Then, as an instance of how a lack of humor leads to illogical conclusions (a condition common to most children), we have the conversation between _Alice_ and the _Pigeon_: ALICE: "But little girls eat quite as much as serpents, you know."