real thing, because it cannot be handled. The pictured baby cannot be hugged, nor the pictured animal dragged about the nursery floor. In the course of time, however, pictures make a place of their own in the child’s affections. They are perhaps the most restful of all his playthings. Certainly they afford his most quiet amusement—much to the mother’s relief.
Next to the principle of recognition in the child’s picture experience comes the element of curiosity. He is eternally asking questions and trying to increase his stock of ideas. Pictures like all other objects will contribute to this end. From pictures of domestic pets so easily identified, he passes with awe and curiosity to pictures of wild animals which have never come into his ken: elephants, camels, and lions: and from these again to mythical beasts like the dragon. From pictures of houses and churches, such as he sees daily, he turns with inquiring eyes to views of splendid public buildings such as he has never known. From children of his own class, in dress and appearance like his own, he advances to the child life of other periods and lands. In these cases the new thing is enough like the old to seem halfway familiar, and still so unfamiliar as to stimulate new interest. The child must begin with what he can understand, but his thirst for knowledge gives him a zest for something beyond, not so far beyond, however, that it is in outer darkness. The universal rule of progress is by one step at a time.
It is singular how the opposite pleasures of rccognition and curiosity alternate and balance each other
