and (with the exception, here and there, of an
objectionable touch of the dark and terrific)
those of the author of the "Ostereier;"—the
"Fable Book," of Otto Speckter; the " Alte und
Neue Kinderlieder " collected by G. Scherer;
the German "A. B. C. Buch"—both these
latter being illustrated by several of the first
artists in Germany. There the first artists
really are engaged for the purpose; with us it is
only pretended, as a matter of advertisement.
Hence the extraordinary superiority of the
foreign illustrations. The fanciful magic tale
of "Good Lady Bertha's Honey Broth," from
the prolific pen of Alexander Dumas, is far
surpassed in the fertility of necromantic invention
by the extraordinary designs furnished
by an eminent artist. Our own authors, the few
who have written excellent stories and songs
for children—Mrs. Barbauld, Mary Howitt,
Mrs. Marcet, Miss Martineau, Mrs. Harriet
Myrtle, Jane and Emily Taylor, the authors
of '' Parent's Cabinet," and some others,—how
much more extensive would have been their
success had they found such artists to illustrate
their books, as we find with the best of
those produced in Germany, France, and
Holland! And here we may mention that
we have never met with songs more pure
and innocent, and more truly adapted for
children, than those of the Dutch poet, Van
Alphen (Kleine Gedichten voor Kinderen, door
Hieronimus van Alphen). The "Gouden Boeksen"
of Van Hasselt, another Dutch poet, is
also worthy of high commendation for the
same reasons. The illustrations are excellent;
the verses of charming simplicity
and innocence.

But now we may be asked—will children
be interested in this purity—this innocence?
Is it not too much like themselves, and do they
not crave for more exciting aliment? Do
they not delight in horrors, and such things?
Not a doubt of it. In like manner, children
of a larger growth delight in gin, and take
other stimulating things to excess. If a child
cries for a nice mixture of poisoned plums and
sweetmeats, are we to give them because of
the pleasure they excite at the moment?
There is no philosophy, no moral firmness, in
this; though it may be natural enough in a
bookseller to advance such an argument. His
object is to supply a market. What children
like, is considered "the demand," and obedient
parents, bowing to indulgent children, obtain
whatever the rosy-cheeked little tyrants
require.

What is to be done for children in this
matter? The first step towards a reform
that will strike most people, is by no means
so easy of practical accomplishment. Some
years ago, the author of "The Good-natured
Bear,— a Story for Children of All Ages,"
went to a publisher, eminent for his juvenile
books, and proposed the following work. He
wished to awaken parents and guardians of
children to the condition of nursery literature,
and to warn them against a heap of
"favourite" books and tales, as of most
injurious tendency. The publisher was struck
with the proposal; but, after some days' conideration,
he demurred to it, on the ground
of the large amount of capital already embarked
by many respectable houses in the
trade, in these very books; hundreds of thousands
of which were profusely illustrated, and
great numbers beautifully bound; he therefore
thought it would seem invidious towards
the trade, and that his motives would, at best,
be misconstrued. The Good-natured Bear
saw some reason in this, or, at any rate,
received it as a good commercial objection;
and, bowing to fate, agreed to modify his
original proposal. Instead of denouncing all
the bad books and tales by name, with all
their death-dealing and alarming illustrations,
he now proposed to denounce them only in
general terms, on broad principles,—and to
specify by name only such books, tales, and
songs as were good—beautiful and poetical in
spirit, or humorous and amusing; and in no
case containing cruelties, horrors, vices, and
terrors of any kind. The publisher rubbed
his hands with a beaming smile. "This will
do," said he; " this will do; and, by the way,
I have myself published a number of books,
exactly of this latter kind—beautiful in
poetry, amiable in prose, humorous and
amusing in spirit; and the illustrations and
binding among the best in the trade; all of
which you would, no doubt, specially mention."
The Good-natured Bear was carried, fainting,
into a cab.

Where is a reform in the nursery library
to come from? A real reform, both in the
spirit, and the letter, and not a " sham," that
will look well in the advertisements? One
cannot expect it to come from the children;
for they are fascinated by what they fear.
Almost as little reasonable will it be to
expect such a reform to originate with the
publishers of children's books, nearly all of
whose present stock in trade is full of the old
leaven of direct evil, or reckless fun. The
real reform must begin with the parents.
Directly they begin to think, the publishers
will feel it, and respond.

                  SHADOWS.

THE SHADOW OF BEN JONSON's MOTHER.

IN Hartshorn Lane, near Charing Cross,
about the year 1580, dwells Mr. Thomas
Fowler, a master bricklayer. He had married,
in 1575, Mrs. Margaret Jonson, a widow; and
had become the protector of her little boy,
Benjamin, then about a year and a half old.

Benjamin is now in his sixth year. He
duly attends the parish school in St. Martin's
Church; for his father was "a grave minister
of the gospel," and his mother is anxious that
her only child, poor although he must be,
shall lack no advantages of education. We see
the sturdy boy daily pacing to school, through
the rough and miry way of that half-rural