Part 13

The plastic nature of the young girl wrought upon by life, fresh faculties brought into activity by the hard knocks of fate or the sunbursts of good luck--although these things are happening every day in the real life of young girls, we yet await the writer who will put them into literature without sentimentalizing. What we want is the novel simplified; the story told directly, without byways of description or analysis; where healthy young people, neither saints nor prigs, nor creatures of affectation, jealousy, or malice, are acted upon by life and each other in a natural fashion.

Let boys and girls be brought together as in real life; brothers are a good element in girls' stories, and love affairs need not be excluded, if handled with delicacy, common sense and true feeling. Many books classed as novels are merely stories simply and clearly told, intended for older readers, but far better for young girls than the stories usually written for them. Miss Jeanie Gould Lincoln's stories and Mrs. J. G. Austin's historical novels, some of Mrs. Barr's and Mrs. Oliphant's novels and a wide range of other interesting, well-told stories can be substituted, if care and discrimination are used in the selection. Fortunately, too, many girls of twelve are ready for Dickens and other standard writers.

However it is not only through the emotions that these aspirations and desires are ministered to--when the writer can develop this emotion into spiritual enthusiasm--or when she portrays a character of active spiritual force, she has put something valuable into the life of the reader. Here, as always, it is the personality of the writer--the soul back of the words that most counts, and it is just this quality of true spirituality which gives value to Mrs. Whitney's stories, in spite of their wordiness, lack of proportion and forced symbolism; as it is the genuine goodness and pure idealism of Miss Mulock which forms the very atmosphere in which her characters move.

While it is impossible to offer a practical guide to the selection of books a few suggestions can be made. In the religious stories, for instance, there must be discrimination between those encouraging morbid self-examination or religious sentimentalizing, and those cultivating optimism and the perception of true values and ideals.

In books of adventure the dividing line would fall between, on the one side, those stories where the hero is actuated by pure love of adventure or where the adventure is worth while in itself--as in "Foul play"; and, on the other side, those stories where the hero is merely seeking to exploit himself and in which the tendency might be to incite boys to reckless escapades for the sake of notoriety.

In the _purchase_ of books one must consider the range of the average reader, but in _recommending_ books to the individual boy and girl, appreciation of differences in temperament and culture is indispensable.

WINIFRED L. TAYLOR, _Pratt Institute Free Library, Brooklyn, N. Y._

_II. FAIRY TALES._

Fairy tales must appeal to the love of the marvellous, and must yet be told with a simplicity that precludes all doubt of their reality in the mind of the child, no matter how improbable the circumstances to our prosaic minds. The language must be simple and dignified. To write a fairy tale, one must first of all be a poet, at least must have the poetic instinct. The child very early absorbs the idea of rhyme. He is sung to sleep with cradle songs, and soothed by jingles, and he does not soon outgrow their influence.

These tales from the librarian's standpoint, fall naturally into two classes: the folklore legends adapted for children (in which, regardless of classification, we include mythological tales) and the purely literary, imaginative story.

_Fairy tales derived from folk-lore._

Fairy tales derived from folk-lore--stories drifted down from the childhood of the world, were not originally written for children, and perhaps for this very reason, they have claimed them for their own. They are not "the artless appeals to all little masters and misses who are good or intend to be good" of John Newbery's time. They have a naturalness which these first books printed especially for children lack; the moral is not too strongly urged. Different versions of the old, old tales reflect in a measure the manners and customs of the country in which they are collected. Fairies are stolid or clever, mischievous or amiable, according to the characters of the people to whom the stories were told.

To this class belong the Grimm brothers' "Household tales," "Icelandic tales," edited by Mrs. A. W. Hall (tales in which it is the princess or the peasant maiden who rescues the prince, instead of being rescued); the Norwegian tales of Asbjörnsen and Moë, the Grimm brothers of the far North. The collections of Lang, Baring-Gould; and Cruikshank, because of illustrations; Miss Mulock's "Book of fairies" and William Canton's "True annals of fairyland" should be in all libraries.

Collections of tales derived from Greek and Roman mythology, such as Kingsley's "Heroes," Hawthorne's "Wonder book" and "Tanglewood tales," may also be considered as fairy tales derived from folk-lore.

One of the most exquisitely told of the old Greek fairy tales is that of "Eros and Psyche," adapted by Paul Carus from Apuleius. The story appeals to children, regardless of the religious significance indicated in the preface of the book.

"Fairy tales from far Japan," translated by Susan Ballard, is excellent, particularly the story of the "Magic mirror," which is also found in a charming set of booklets published in Tokio, in English. This set is called the "Japanese fairy tale series," the type, paper and colored illustrations being all of Japanese manufacture.

"Fairy stories from the little mountain," by John Finnemore, is a good collection of Welsh stories as is Frere's "Old Deccan days" of Indian folk-lore.

"Wigwam stories," edited by Mary Catherine Judd, are told by Indians, or adapted from ethnological reports and original sources.

Mabie's "Norse stories retold from the Eddas," Keary's "Heroes of Asgard," "The wonder-world stories" of Marie Pabke and Margery Deane, Scudder's "Book of folk tales" and Wiltse's "Folk-lore and proverb stories," both of the latter for the youngest readers, the Countess d'Aulnoy's fairy tales, the collections of Laboulaye and the immortal tales of Perrault, we cannot afford to be without, as well as Howard Pyle's "Wonder clock" and "Pepper and salt," which retain the old-time flavor and are much enhanced by the author's illustrations.

_Literary fairy tales._

Hans Christian Andersen's stories, while based often upon tradition, are excluded by Hartland from the list of pure fairy tales and classed as literary. Yet even the old, old fairy tales cannot, with justice, rival his in the hearts of the children. Their feeling for him has been expressed by John White Chadwick, in writing of another:

"But as I muse, I seem at heaven's door To hear a sound which there I heard before. When Danish Hans that way did softly wend-- A sound of children making merriest din Of welcome, as the old man entered in."

Mary S. Claude, in "Twilight thoughts," has shown herself a graceful follower in the footsteps of Andersen. Such stories create a tenderness for plants and animals not easily effaced.

It detracts nothing from the interest of the story that what a child calls a fairy tale we call literature. Even Dr. Johnson recognized that "babies do not want to hear about babies." It is a great pity that a child should never meet the knights of the Round Table, or the Charlemagne legends--half history, half romance--or the Homeric tales, outside the dissecting room of a literature class. Small wonder that a child who heard them there for the first time should exclaim with considerable animus, "I like to read, but I hate literature."

Here is a good field for the "story hour" so successfully introduced in the Carnegie Library, Pittsburgh. That edition which follows most closely the original, or is told in graphic clear-cut English, such as Morris uses in the "Earthly paradise" or the "Life and death of Jason," or Butcher and Lang's translation of the Odyssey, is the best. Such a version read aloud is infinitely better than the best dilution by any well-meaning attendant. Skip judiciously, but do not weaken the story. It is not only the plot but the charm of style which we wish to introduce. The argument may of course first be given, that the child be put in sympathy with the situation.

_Modern fairy tales._

A good modern fairy tale is a rare article. One may search far and long before finding it. If it is not worth reading twice, it is not worth reading once. In many of these modern tales there is an atmosphere of haste wholly lacking in the good old tales. Fairyland has a government of its own, where neither time nor space has value. It lies "east of the sun and west of the moon."

One of the best collections is "Granny's wonderful chair," by Frances Browne--in the American edition "The wonderful chair." It is well written, the interest is well kept up, and the language is befitting the subject. The surest way to test a poor fairy tale is to first read one of unquestionable merit, and to get thoroughly into its atmosphere.

_Good modern fairy tales._

"Princess Ilse," by Marie Petersen; a gracefully told story of a discontented mountain brook.

"Mopsa the fairy," by Jean Ingelow, and "The little lame prince," by Dinah Maria Craik.

"Lob-lie-by-the-fire," by Mrs. Ewing, and "At the back of the North wind" and "The Princess and Curdie," by George Macdonald.

The average modern fairy tale is a jumble of impossibilities, with no continuity of incident, well enough or poorly written, according to the ability of the writer.

"The magic fruit garden," by Marion Wallace Dunlop, is an illustration of this kind. Two very small children, in abbreviated pinafores, are studying their Monday lessons; one is writing an essay on Perseverance, the other is copying geographical names. By the illustrations, one may judge the children to be of kindergarten age. It is not surprising that they fall asleep, and, to dreamland sent, meet with adventures enough to make the strongest head whirl--a case of literary delirium tremens.

"Snow garden," by Elizabeth Wordsworth, is on the whole a good collection; the stories, however, are of unequal merit.

"The other side of the sun," by Evelyn Sharp, is of negative goodness. The witches and wizards are mild and amiable, especial care evidently being taken that no child should be kept awake at night. It does no harm for children occasionally to shiver and shake as poor Hans in the Grimm collection longed to do. The author's satisfaction at the expression the "wymps wimpled" is insisted upon a little too frequently.

"Fairy folk of Blue Hill," by Lily F. Wesselhoeft, is of especial interest to children about Boston, since it accounts for the granite quarries and pudding stone of the region. It is smoothly written and is not spoiled by slang or pertness.

"Summer legends," by Rudolph Baumbach. The stories are not altogether fairy tales nor are they written for the youngest readers. They are gracefully written although they lose somewhat by translation. The book is in some parts amusing and all the stories are peopled with the wonderful creatures of fairyland.

Other tales seem invented only for the purpose of forcing religious sentiment, or pointing a moral in inverse proportion to the size of the reader. Their authors seem sometimes to have reached Mark Twain's conclusion that "every one being born with an equal amount of original sin, the pressure on the square inch must needs be greater in a baby."

"Pixie and Elaine stories," by Carrie E. Morrison, is a mixture of fairy tale and religious story. The author speaks in her preface of the stories having been carefully pruned. One shudders at thinking what they must have been before, with such chapters as "The Elaines' picture of heaven," and "The pixie transforms an Elaine" left in.

"New book of the fairies," by Beatrice Harraden, is marred by the suggestion of cruelty to animals. In one story, in place of rubbing the Aladdin lamp, that what one wishes may happen, one must pull the black cat's tail. It is gratifying to reflect that black cats have their own peculiar method of retaliation for such experiments.

_Burlesque fairy tales._

Burlesque fairy tales are the most atrocious of all. They are apt to be broad in their humor, full of _fin de siècle_ jokes or puns, and modern allusions which mar the poetry of the tale if there is any in it, and create an appetite for facetiousness in books. "Lips wagging, and never a wise word," one is tempted to say with Ben Jonson.... Copyright fees should be trebled on this class of books.

Under this head come:

"The book of dragons," by E. Nesbit.

"Here they are!" by James F. Sullivan; full of modern allusions and puns.

"The pink hen," by Cuthbert Sterling; a sort of "continuous performance." The pink hen is hatched from a forgotten Easter egg, is driven from the barnyard by her associates and forced to seek her fortune. She links her fate with that of a little girl who has escaped from an ogre, and together they redeem a prince from the curses of bad fairies. The pink hen is continually punning, and the prince while still in the cradle is addicted to smoking.

It is hard to tell how the author of Jewett's "More bunny stories" would classify them. We hope not as fairy tales. They are poor from any point of view. The bunnies might as well be ordinary children as anything. They go to lawn parties, play golf, dance the Virginia reel, go to West Point, tell folk-lore stories, repeat Bible verses and say their prayers. We are sometimes asked for a Sunday book. For one who must have a special book for that day, this might possibly answer; it is certainly full of moral reflections and pious sentiment; but there is no reason at all for reading it on Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday. The story closes with a wedding where the happy bunnies are united under a bridal bell, while the strains of the march from "Lohengrin" float in the air.

Humor is not early developed in all children, which is perhaps why a great many do not care for "Alice in Wonderland," and for Stockton's fairy tales--"The bee man of Orn," "The griffin and the minor canon," etc.

Laura E. Richards' "Chop-chin and the golden dragon" must also be classed as humorous. It is not as good as the Toto stories.

_Animal folk-lore._

Animal folk tales as exemplified in Joel Chandler Harris's stories, "Little Mr. Thimble-finger," "Mr. Rabbit at home," "Daddy Jake," "Uncle Remus," "Story of Aaron," etc., are excellent. Brer Fox and Brer Rabbit, the black stallion and all the animal characters are quite as much realities to the children as Buster John, Sweetest Susan and the Little Master.

Ortoli's "Evening tales," follows the same general line.

Kipling, too, in the "Jungle books" has won the hearts of the children, and here there is no hint of the "garlic flavor," mentioned by Higginson.

Fraser's "Mooswa" also belongs to this class.

A common practice in modern fairy stories is for the author to open the tale in this way: A child falls asleep and enters fairyland via the dream country. Often the child has been sent to bed for some misdemeanor, as in the "Dream fox story book," by Mabel Osgood Wright, or has fallen asleep over his tasks, as in the case of the "One-eyed griffin," by Herbert E. Inman, the fairy tales being offered by way of consolation; a reprehensible practice in itself, besides putting one out of touch with the real fairyland. It is too conspicuously "make believe" and leads one to suspect that the author has little confidence in his own production. As "good wine needs no bush," so a good fairy tale needs no introduction or apology. In the real fairyland one cannot easily be ungraceful.

_Nature fairy tales._

Nature fairy tales are more than apt to be failures, and often include a great deal of pertness and cheap talk, in their effort to teach by stealth. (Charles Lamb writes to Coleridge in regard to Goody Two Shoes in this way: "Think what you would have been now, if, instead of being fed with tales and old wives' fables, you had been crammed with geography and natural history.")

A conspicuous example of the faults of this class of story is found in "Sylvia in flowerland," by Linda Gardner. The heroine is introduced as a high-school girl, well-advanced in Latin and mathematics, and amply able to supplement very largely the information which the flowers give her about themselves. Linda strolls into the fields and is told all sorts of facts about the habits of plants by the flowers. The story where the author forgets to interject puns is interestingly told, certainly enough so to attract a girl of fourteen, who has any fondness for flowers. Besides the numerous puns, such glaring sentences as the following, condemn it. "I don't know who you mean." "Why it is a nasty nettle"! said Sylvia. "Nasty, yourself," ejaculated the nettle sharply, "why do you come shoving against me?"

McCook's "Old farm fairies," gives what Mrs. Malaprop calls "a supercilious knowledge" in its attempt to interest children in insect life, by introducing different insects in the form of pixies, brownies and fairies. While it has not the faults of "Sylvia in flowerland," the information is mainly crowded into footnotes and appendices, which as a rule are carefully avoided by children.

Mabel Osgood Wright's "Tommy Anne" and "Wabeno" are more successful; but the same amount of energy spent in making the facts of nature interesting in themselves would be preferable.

While not assuming an absolute censorship in this department, the principle of natural selection may be applied in discarding such books as are characterized by the faults here cited, that we may do our share towards discouraging a taste for facetiousness, flippancy and poor style in literature. For while these modern, sham, soulless fairy tales soon lose themselves in the overwhelming mass of printed matter, in their brief existence they have time to accomplish considerable harm. Far better to encourage re-reading the imperishable tales, than to gratify an insatiable desire for more. Did not we ourselves again and again shed fresh tears over Cinderella's hard fate, or gasp with bated breath while watching with Sister Ann for that distant speck on the horizon? If children are different to-day, it is partly because we are helping to make them so.

ABBY L. SARGENT, _Medford_ (_Mass._) _Public Library_.

_III. SCIENCE FOR CHILDREN._

In the selection of books for children's libraries it is necessary to understand the difference between the aims and methods of the old education and the new.

Until recently the schools have centered their work about man, studying his language, literature, methods of reasoning, and the manner in which he has partitioned off the earth into countries. No importance whatever was attached to his physical surroundings, which form so great a factor in his life and by which he is so profoundly affected. In history, the study of dates, battles and leaders was all that was required. In geography, the work was almost exclusively confined to a description of the earth, the location of mountains, rivers, cities, and political divisions. Before the establishment of the national Weather Bureau there was scarcely any public interest manifested in the phenomena of the atmosphere and its relation to various weather elements. Many of us can recall from our own experience the picture of the earth divided into zones, but why such a division was made did not come up for consideration.

What are we now aiming to do for the child? We are looking beyond the mere cultivation of memory; and we desire to increase the child's point of contact with the world, to bring him into closer relationship with the life about him, to broaden his sympathies and to develop the powers of observation and reason. In so far as we are able to accomplish these results, we shall make him happier by enabling him to understand the great laws that govern the universe. The child is learning that the facts of history are the results of causes, that they are the working out of great principles and that by the comparison of the past with the present he may be able to judge of the future. From a study of the physical features of the earth he learns that slopes determine the course of rivers and that cities are dependent for their growth upon physical environment. The consideration of the weather enables him to understand the state of the atmosphere about him, its effect on climate, the cause of storms, and the different action of solar energy on air, land, and water, which renders possible life upon the earth. Science demands an investigation of the growth and habits of plants and animals, the relationship of one form to another, the function and adaptation of parts, the effect of surroundings, while form and structure are results, not ends.

We want to lead the child from results back to causes. The possession of a vast number of facts, unrelated among themselves, is valueless and even harmful, for the child does not look upon nature as a whole. Nature-study, perhaps more than any other subject, leads the child into sympathy with his environment. He observes carefully and thoughtfully and thus the individual is developed. From personal contact with nature he gains the power of accurate observation, correct thinking and judgment; thus strengthening his moral character. If this is the effect of nature-study upon the development of the child, the question comes to the librarian--What principles shall guide me in the selection of books that the library with which I am connected may be of assistance in accomplishing these results, and meet the demand of modern education?

A book for children should be attractive. The exterior should present a harmony of color and tasteful decoration. The text should be printed with clear type upon good paper and should be well illustrated. Colored plates are preferable, provided the coloring is good, otherwise uncolored illustrations are far more desirable. The text should be clear, simple, and scientifically correct.

The new scientific book differs from the old. The old style book gave dead results, no sympathy in or interest for life was aroused, no suggestions were given for first-hand observations of nature, consequently the book failed to stimulate a desire for personal investigation that could be verified by the recorded work of others. The new scientific book not only gives results but a detailed account of the methods employed in obtaining those results. The reader is interested in trying the same experiments, gains a sympathy and interest in the wonderful life history of a plant, bird, or insect, develops a tenderness for life and feels that all nature is a sympathetic unit.