vulgarities? The solution, we think, obvious.
The great majority of these rhymes are no
doubt the composition of uneducated old
nurses and beldames of olden times—old
gossiping crones who little dreamed of the
honour in store for them in the spectacled
labours of learned collectors and editors,
"with print and gloss." They sung what
came uppermost; the rhymes grew and
grew; and were handed down. In such an
immense quantity, the total absence of all
beauty—of all prettiness, childish grace, and
innocence, is something quite wonderful; and
is explicable in no other way.

As for our tales and stories, they are very
often of foreign growth. Several of our most
famous stories also exist, with certain national
varieties in each, in the Swedish, Norwegian,
Danish, French, and German literature of the
nursery.

We are accustomed to attribute to the
Germans, in their social and domestic relations,
a greater simplicity of mind, life, and
manners, than is found among ourselves.
This circumstance, added to their natural
disposition to reflect and philosophise on all
subjects, would have led one to expect that
in so important a consideration as the very
earliest ideas and influences presented to
the opening mind of a child, the greatest
care would have been taken to communicate
nothing but the purest and most amiable
pictures, thoughts, and general impressions.
We do not find this to be the case. Their
nursery songs and tales are not, in general,
so cruel and tragical as ours, nor do they
contain so many vicious and unprincipled
influences; but great numbers of them are of
the most injurious kind. The Witch of the
German nursery, though more romantic and
fanciful than ours, is scarcely less inconsiderate
and mischievous. Her chief purpose often
appears to be the infliction of punishments
upon disobedient children in a summary way,
as a direct consequence of that disobedience
or naughtiness. It is intended to warn
children by these means; but the punishments
are usually so severe and remorseless,
and so disproportioned to the offence, that we
think they must have a greater tendency to
inculcate a spirit of vengeance, injustice, and
cruelty than to instil the lesson of obedience
and caution which we intended.

One of the most popular of the German
collection of poems of the nursery, is one of
the least objectionable. They are not songs,
but little tales in verse, and the collection
is called after the figure on its title-page
—Der Struwwelpeter, who is a short, thick-set,
clownish fellow, in a red blouse, and
long green gaiters, the nails of whose fingers
have grown to a length that resemble
lobster's horns, while the hair of his head is
all unshorn, and flying about in outrageous
disorder. There are no portraitures, or
stories of goodness; nothing is shown but
naughtiness and its punishment. In the
poem of "Naughty Frederick," you see him
begin with pulling off the legs and wings of
flies; he then kills a bird in its cage by
throwing a chair at it; beats his nursemaid
with a whip; and finally assaults a dog who is
quietly drinking from a pump. The dog tears
his leg, the blood from which, in the most
approved bad style of all nursery pictures
(the last sort of things that should be shown
to children), makes a very important feature
in the illustration. Frederick is then put to
bed; the doctor gives him nauseous physic,
and the dog eats Frederick's dinner, sitting
up at table, in the boy's chair. Which being
translated, runs thus,—

"The Dog receives sick Frederick's plate,
And on his great cake now shall dine;
His liver-pudding next he ate;
And, being thirsty, drank his wine."

But this is moderate enough; the next
poem advances the principle of vengeance
much further. In the story of the girl who
plays with the lucifer-match box, you see a
girl approaching a table on which is placed a
box of lucifers; two black cats are seated
beneath the table, each holding up one fore-
paw to warn her, or remind her that she is
not to touch the box. She lights a match;
the two cats repeat their warning gesticulation.
In the third picture she is enveloped in
red and yellow flames, (a horrible daub, of
course, but not the less horrible to a child's
imagination,) and the black cats have elevated
both paws with a mixture of horror, and of
"We told you so!" The last picture shows
a little heap of smoking cinders, with two
shoes floating on a stream of water, which is
caused by the "flood of tears" poured forth
by the inconsolable cats. This latter touch of
tenderness and commiseration almost redeems
the story.

"And the tears of the cats kept flowing, Meeau Wo!
Like a rill through a meadow, M'yorl Ro! O! 0!"

The next poem is called Die Geschichte von
den schwarzen Buben (The History of the Black
Boy), which is very good. A negro boy is enjoying
a walk beneath a bright green umbrella,
and is followed by three schoolboys, with all
manner of derision and insult. St. Nicholas, in
a brick-dust coloured morning gown, yellow
slippers, black and cherry smoking-cap, and
blue hair and beard, beckons the three boys
to him, and dips them one by one into his
great inkstand. The last illustration represents
the Negro boy still on his walk beneath
his bright green umbrella, and followed by
the three boys, each of whom is now twice as
black as the object of their ridicule. The next
poem—the story of "The Sportsman"—is highly
amusing, and harmless. The illustrations are
excellent. The Sportsman is a Berlin shop-keeper,
or tradesman, in full Jäger costume,
having a new grass-green jacket, powder-horn
and game-bag, with the addition of a
huge pink comforter. He carries a prodigious