Miss Hawthorne addresses a number of subjects here, including the familiar ones of children reading good literature, but also that good literature, even if written for children, can be read equally by children and adults. Goodness! I always liked to write, but I'm glad my parents didn't assign me "a little composition" after I finished each book!Regarding Misquotations.
One of the rules that even young writers and readers should bear in mind is this: "Verify your quotations." And, if possible, go to the original source rather than to rely on other authority. The reason for the rule is easy to see. Usually a quotation becomes popular because it is worth while, and to misquote is often to lose the value of the words. Thus people often say, "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing." But that is not true. All knowledge is worth having, even a little. They mean "half-knowledge," or incorrect knowledge, which is not really knowledge at all! What Pope wrote was: "A little learning is a dangerous thing"; and what he meant was that a little learning makes one presumptuous, while thorough learning gives humility—an idea likewise set forth in the saying that wisdom begins with the feeling that one is ignorant.
So, verify your quotations for fear you may put into currency a counterfeit note.
At the same time it is to be remembered that some few quotations have been improved by changes introduced by those who have misquoted. These improvements are rare, however, and it is safest to retain the old forms where there is any doubt.
Another usual misquotation besides that mentioned is —
"The quality of mercy is not strained;
It falleth as the gentle dew from heaven"—
which you may correct for yourself, and then may inquire whether it is likely that the popular change is an improvement, when the nature of dew is understood.
A Father's Encouragement.
From the father of a young citizen of New York comes a letter explaining his very successful method of making the reading of good books delightful to his son. He says: "I believe it is well he should read those books he has before acquiring new ones, and so we have entered into the following arrangement. For every book he reads himself from cover to cover, and of which he tells me in a little composition, I am to give him a new book of his own choosing; the right to veto the choice remaining with me, if I do not think the choice a good one." There comes with the letter one of the little "compositions," showing how this nine-year-old boy carries out his part of the agreement.
The idea seems an excellent one; but would it not be improved if the father also should write an opinion of the book, so that his son might be guided in his judgment? It might also be a good plan for the father to make suggestions as to the new book given as a reward—especially as the father writes us that his son's taste for books is inherited.
A Correspondent's Views on "Fables."
In one letter sent to this department a young girl writes that she finds "all fables dull," and cannot read any except the "Fables in Slang," a book that even the author would admit was only the merest fooling. Here, it would seem, is a taste that needs cultivating. Evidently this young reader prefers to read without much thinking. Fables are, at their best, wisdom-stories. The greatest teachers this world has ever seen have chosen fables as the means of conveying the deepest thoughts. Some of the most beautiful possessions in all literature are in this form. Indeed, the subject is so great that in writing of it one glances in bewilderment from one sort of fable to another, wondering which to choose in proof of their value. A greater part of ancient wisdom lies in fables, and in the mythology that is little more than one great series of fables—stories conveying the views of ancient people on the most important teachings about nature and life. Perhaps this young girl might learn to change her idea of fables if she should read a book like Ruskin's "Queen of the Air," an interpreting of the myth or fable of Athene, from whom the Parthenon at Athens was called the Maiden Temple. But it may be this young despiser of fables did not quite understand the meaning of the term she used. She may not like Aesop's Fables. Even then, one feels that this comes from hasty, thoughtless reading without setting the imagination to work. Let her look for the expansion of some of these fables by the poets, and we are sure she will find how much lies in the brief and suggestive little stories. Who will tell her where to find, for example, the story of "The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse," or of "Belling the Cat," told as some good poet tells it? It seems a pity for any young reader to lose the many delights to be found in Fableland and its outlying countries.
Companionship In Reading.
One of the advantages in reading the best books is in their fitting themselves to any age. If you keep to the so-called "juvenile books" you will lose the pleasure of having the sympathy and companionship of your parents in the reading. The best books are for older and younger readers alike, and parents and children may enjoy them together, thus doubling the pleasure of reading. That young readers love to discuss the books they read is evident from the letters sent to this department. It is enjoyable to find whether your views of a book, its incidents and characters, are shared by others. Agreement is gratifying, and disagreement is interesting, even if discussion should fail to convince either that the other has taken the correct view.
Kingsley's Water Babies.
This book is a good illustration that "one man's meat is another's poison." Some readers say, "I think it is babyish; I don't see anything in it." Some write, "I cannot find anything I like in it; it seems very foolish to me." Yet here is a letter from one who certainly finds more than one good quality in the same volume:
Richmond, Ind.
Dear St. Nicholas:
Your request for opinions on Water Babies gives me an opportunity of speaking a word for the book I never tire of commending. Although I am eighteen, I recently read it for the third or fourth time, and enjoyed it as much as when I read it for the first, about eight years ago. Not only has the fascinating story lost none of its charm, but my enjoyment has rather increased, since I am now able to see what qualities made the book so delightful to me when I was younger. For instance, I now see how much the easy conversational style adds. Was there ever such spontaneous, irresistible humor or such vivid imagination? And see with what art Kingsley has put in details of natural history and what not until his pictures seem so real that to turn from one and behold a real Water Baby would be no surprise! Everything is so novel, so original, and yet so natural that I am at a loss to see how any one could not like the book. Where can you find any finer literature than the description of Tom's journey over the moor, or where anything more ridiculously funny than those curious lists of things, the remedies the poor doctor had to take, or all that nonsense about those remarkable back stairs? I have heard it said that Water Babies means nothing to younger children, but I really think that if some older person reads it aloud to them, they will enjoy it as much as they would in later years. I say "read aloud" because the long words are truly formidable but do not detract from the story when the discouraging influence they might exert on the inexperienced little reader is obviated.
Yours sincerely, Gordon H. Graves.
Now—what is to be done? Shall we quote the old Latin proverb, "De gustibus non disputandum est"—"There is no use in argument as to tastes"? Or shall we content ourselves with the common-sense conclusion that different books suit different minds? There seems nothing strange in the belief that even a very excellent book may bring no message to you or to me. So let us be charitable with one another's tastes in reading, as in other things; remembering, however, that we all admit the possibility of good taste and bad taste, and believe bad tastes may be refined.
The Report From Librarians.
In the newspapers often appear lists of the books called for by the public. To one who cares what children are reading, it is very discouraging to see under the head of "Juvenile Fiction" the same old favorites repeated week in and week out. There is no reason to criticize these books; they are excellent books: but children owe it to themselves to widen their horizon a little. Librarians say that children keep calling for the same authors merely through mental laziness.
We don't believe that St. Nicholas readers do this. They seem, by their letters, to be reading much more widely and more wisely than these library reports indicate. If the St. Nicholas boys and girls are wiser, it would be kind of them to help their friends and playmates to know there are more than half a dozen writers for the young, and that some of the best books for young people may be found among those not appearing every week in the library lists. Who will do this missionary work?
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