Chapter VIII: How to Read Fiction (1)

1. _Different Kinds of Literature_

If there were but one kind of literature, it would be an easy matter to give the few directions that would be necessary to make good readers. In reality there are, however, several types, so different in their purpose, style and content that the reader must study them in many different ways if he would get the varied and inspiring messages. To appreciate what this means, let us look over the field.

For our purposes, as has been said, true literature, as distinguished from the practical literature of fact, may be grouped under the two general heads of poetry and prose. At first thought the difference between the two seems wide and unmistakable. Poetry differs from prose not only in form, but also in rhythm, music, beauty and sentiment. The former is usually more figurative, and aims to stimulate the imagination more keenly and to enthral the feelings more completely. Upon a closer consideration it is seen that poetry and good prose have much in common, and that often it is really but a question of form, for lyric beauty glows in the phrases of our finest prose, and both heart and soul are moved by its powerful appeals.

There are narratives and arguments in both poetry and prose, and essays in the form of both. For this reason our general method of study may be the same for both, except when form alone is considered.

The simplest and most universal form of literature is found in the catchy little nursery rhymes which the children of the nation learn at their cradles from the lips of their elders. In these, if careful search be made, may be found most of the elements which in broader and more complex forms appear in the favorite selections of maturer years. Following the nursery rhymes appear the fables, fairy tales, myths and legends that have formed the literature of earlier races and have come down to us to be amplified and placed in modern form for the children of this age.

It has been said that in every child is seen the history of the race, and that from infancy to manhood he typifies every stage of progress the race has seen. In early years he loves the fables where animals speak, feel and act like human beings; for in former times mankind believed the fables to be truth. A child peoples his world with fairies, good and bad, and believes in the limitless power of magic. A little later he loves the deeds of the legendary heroes and revels in the marvelous acts of the more than human beings in whom the ancients believed. Later the stirring adventures of the real heroes of discovery and exploration, the heroic exploits of warriors on land and sea, and the courageous acts of noble men and women in every walk in life appeal to him; while still later, real history seizes the imagination of the youth, who now looks for the causes of things and learns to trace out their effects. He learns to reason and to separate truth from falsehood. Casting aside the wild tales of boyhood, he gathers up instead the facts of life and experience, and draws his inspiration from the noble works of the world's greatest writers.

2. _Reading Stories_

In the development of literary taste, fiction plays as prominent a part as fact, and to fiction, considered in its broadest sense, every child is deeply indebted. Many err in thinking that a stern diet of facts is the only nutriment the child mind needs, and still others err only in a less degree when they look upon fiction as perhaps a necessary evil, but one which must be avoided as much as possible and set aside at the earliest possible moment. All fiction has in it some elements of truth, and they are the sources of the inspiration which comes to children when, in their world of make-believe, they live with their beautiful and heroic friends of the story books.

To read fiction properly is to get from it the truth, which, however, is often liable to be lost by the reader in the excitement of the tale, or to pass undetected in the easy-running sentences. As fictitious narratives in prose and poetry in the great majority of cases form the larger part of children's reading, it is to them we should turn our attention. Before we begin their specific study a few principles claim our attention:

Good stories are the most helpful things a child can read.

The more intelligently and sympathetically a story is read, the more powerful for good it is.

The imagination of a child is the most powerful agent in the development of his mind.

The imagination acts only to combine, enlarge, or diminish ideas that enter the mind. It never creates.

On the nature of the ideas presented will depend the character of the imagination.

A vivid imagination fed with bad ideas is most destructive to human character. Good stories with high ideals can do no harm: but evil stories, particularly if attractive and entertaining, will undo the careful teaching of years.

As evil must appear in life, it may appear in stories, but it must be brought in in such a way that it is known as evil, and children must be taught to recognize it as evil.

The motives which govern the words and actions of the persons who appear in a well-written story are more easily discerned than the motives which actuate the human beings around us. Thus a child who reads intelligently is helped to discover in the words and deeds of the people whom he meets the elements of real character. A study of the heroes of fiction is a study in human life.

Improbable stories and those presenting impossible or unreal things are not necessarily bad; in fact they are often good and distinctly serviceable. No matter how true they appear to a child, the time comes when he rejects them as impossible, although he may always be indebted to them for keen pleasure and the awakening of his imagination. Belief in the myth of Santa Claus never destroyed a child's love and respect for his parents; faith in the unlimited power of good fairies never made a child less able to recognize the laws of nature. It is the halfway truths that are troublesome; it is the little misrepresentations not liable to be detected that may permanently deceive.

To understand the good and the true, to discriminate between the bad and the false, to find pleasure that shall awaken, enliven and inspire, to arouse curiosity and interest in wider, more thoughtful and helpful study, are some of the important aims of story-reading.

Purposeful reading on the part of children may be brought about by direct instruction from parent or teacher or it may be acquired by the child through his own efforts. Manifestly the former is the really efficient way and its efficiency may be increased if it is carried on systematically. The following outline will assist those who have children in charge to do their part easily and in the best manner.

In reading any story there are several things to be considered if one is to get the most out of it. These things are mentioned in natural order in the outline, each item of which will be treated at length in the pages immediately following.

In reading stories consider:

Primarily,
A. The Plot.
B. The Persons.
C. The Scenes.
Secondarily,
D. The Lesson.
E. The Author's Purpose.
F. The Method and Style of the Author.
G. Emotional Power.

In the volumes of _Journeys Through Bookland_, intended as they are for reading by children, it was not thought wise to make the studies extensive nor to attach much comment to the selections, lest the young readers weary of the task or neglect it entirely. In this volume a different case confronts us and we put the discussions on a higher plane. If these suggestions are used in the instruction of children, some care in adaptation will be necessary. The age and sex of the children, their advancement in their studies, their surroundings at home and in school, will all need to be taken into account in determining what selections to use and how far to carry the method. A good general principle to follow is to present to the children only so much as will hold their interest; present it in the manner that will best retain their interest, and change the subject or the method when interest flags.

Speaking in general terms, children are most interested in that of which they already know something, and prefer to study intensively something which is "easy to read." The familiar selections of old readers often are found to be alive with interest, if studied by a new method. A method is understood most easily when it is applied to a simple subject; in this case, to a story in which the youngest children will be interested. A word of caution may be worth while: Especially with young children,--"Do not let the method be seen; it is the _story_ that is to be brought out."

It is evident that the Plot, the Persons and the Scenes of the story will interest children of all ages; that all will be benefited by the Lesson if it is judiciously presented; but that only the older children can be interested to any great extent in the Author's Purpose, Method or Style or in the study of the Emotional Power of the selection, however much it may be felt.

A. The Plot

The main line of events leading up to the climax of interest in the story may be called the plot.

It is the plot that furnishes excitement, and for perhaps the majority of readers constitutes the chief interest. In some stories the plot lies upon the surface all the time, and everything is made subservient to the purpose of holding interest, keeping up excitement and mystifying the reader until the climax is reached. Thrilling detective stories of the poorer class, exciting love stories and the cheap juvenile tales of Indian fighting, with heroines in dire distress and heroes struggling to rescue them, are illustrations of this type. No effort is made by the author to make real human beings of his characters, and little or no profit comes to the reader, while infinite harm may be done to minds craving excitement and finding in it nothing to stimulate an interest in better things.

In the better stories of greater writers the plot still plays an important part, but while it sustains interest unflaggingly, it carries with it other things which are of vastly greater importance. In such stories the persons are living, breathing realities, and the reader feels that he has added permanently to his list of tried and true friends. Tom Brown and Tiny Tim, who live only in stories, are as much our friends as Henry Thompson and Rudolph De Peyster who live in the next block. The great writer, moreover, takes us with him into new places, among new scenes, so that Rugby becomes for a time our own school, and from Tim's poor hearth there enters a warm Christmas glow into our doubting hearts. Although the plot is important, yet all stories that enthral the mind with exciting incidents must be regarded with suspicion until they prove their right to be considered real literature by furnishing higher interests or greater inspiration.

To analyze the plot of a story, however, is always helpful; to arrange the incidents in order, to determine which are necessary to the development of the story, and which are merely contributory to the general interest, is an interesting and stimulating thing. The plot of short stories may quite often be told in few words, and unless very complicated, the plot of a novel may be given in a few sentences. In some stories, however, the plot is so loosely constructed and of so little real importance that it is hardly more than a train of apparently equally important incidents. Again, the plot is oftentimes so complicated by secondary plots and incidents that even a careful reader becomes confused and loses his interest.

Let us consider the plot in such a story as _Cinderella_ (Volume I, page 224). The main incidents of the plot arrange themselves as follows:

1. Cinderella's mother dies.

2. Her father marries a widow, who has two daughters.

3. The stepmother sends Cinderella to the kitchen to work and to the garret to sleep.

4. The king's son gives a great ball to which he invites Cinderella's stepsisters.

5. The stepsisters require Cinderella to assist them to dress, and abuse her shamefully.

6. The sisters go to the ball, and Cinderella sits by the kitchen fire wishing she might accompany them.

7. Her fairy godmother appears and sends her to the ball in fine style.

8. Cinderella, beautiful as a picture, dances with the prince, who falls in love with her.

9. The clock strikes twelve, and Cinderella goes back to the kitchen.

10. The stepsisters again mistreat Cinderella.

11. She goes to the ball the second day.

12. She forgets her godmother's warning, and after midnight rushes back home, leaving a single slipper behind her.

13. The prince finds the slipper and searches for its owner.

14. The sisters fail in trying on the slipper, which is then fitted to Cinderella's foot.

15. The fairy godmother restores to Cinderella the appearance of a princess.

16. The prince marries Cinderella, and she forgives her stepsisters.

A summary of these main incidents may be given in a few words, which will contain the skeleton of the plot. To say that a certain little girl who is shamefully treated by her stepsisters is aided by her fairy godmother to attend a ball given by a prince, who finally marries the little drudge, is to give the plot and really to tell all that the lax and superficial reader gets from the story he peruses.

There are in this little story, however, a large number of minor incidents which contribute to the interest, and if sought and placed in their relation to the main events will be found to have added materially to the charm of the narrative.

For instance, when the fairy godmother sends Cinderella to the ball for the first time, children are led to a vivid interest in the event by a series of fascinating incidents, as follows:

1. The fairy sends her into the garden for a pumpkin.

2. The godmother, scooping out the inside of the pumpkin, leaves the rind, which she taps three times, and immediately it becomes a golden coach.

3. The fairy spies six mice alive in a trap.

4. Cinderella lets the mice out gently, and as the fairy touches them with her wand, each becomes a fine, dapple-gray horse.

5. Cinderella brings the rats, the largest of which the fairy converts into a handsome postilion with a fine pair of whiskers.

6. Cinderella finds the six lizards behind the watering pot, which become the six sedate and dignified footmen clothed in livery.

7. Cinderella's rags are changed to wonderful clothing bedecked with costly jewels.

8. The beautiful glass slippers are provided.

How real these incidents all seem! What art is shown in bringing in real things to give food to the imagination and to stimulate the interest that carries the little reader away from herself where she may riot in the wonders her active mind can so readily conceive. Some time when she has grown much older, and cares have wrinkled her smooth cheeks, she may see that the only fairy godmother who can clothe a Cinderella is hard work, and that mice become dapple-grays, and footmen are made from lizards behind watering pots only when she has earned the right to them herself. Just now it is enough for her to see that fairy godmothers come to good children only, and that good princes do not care if their wives have worked in the cinders, provided they are beautiful in gentleness and service to others.

Children like to understand what they read, and are never so happy as when talking over their favorite stories with those of their elders who have the power to enter sympathetically into the child world. By no means do all boys and girls like to be taught; in fact there are not many more certain ways of prejudicing a child against anything than by making it the subject of a formal lesson. Still, every child loves to learn, and is seeking at every moment to add to his information and to exercise his mind. Yet he must do it in his own way and with the things in which he is interested. If those facts are borne in mind, no parent will have difficulty in interesting his child or in leading the juvenile mind where it ought to go.

To apply these ideas to teaching the plot of such a story as _Cinderella_, let the parent who loves his children, and who wishes to be no stranger to their interests, joys and sorrows, seat himself among them some time and begin to read to them. Pausing now and then to explain some word whose meaning may be obscure to them, or to comment on some phase of the story that may be of special interest, let him read on to the end without attempting to do much more than to make the story a vivid tale where the interest centers in the incident.

When the story has ended, the pleasure has but just begun. Children like to ask questions, but they are no less ready to answer them if the questions are on things of interest, are related to the things which children know and are put in such a way that the genuine interest of the questioner is always evident. The I-know-it-all-and-you-know-nothing style of questioning; the I'm-the-master-and-you're-the-pupil style; the because-I-ask-you-must-answer style are all fatal to interest, and will soon prevent that hearty sympathy and living spirit of coöperation that the parent wishes to secure.

If we suppose it is _Cinderella_ that has been read, we may begin our questioning in this manner:

"That's a good story. I like it, don't you?--It is rather long, though; I've almost forgotten how it began.--O, was that the first thing that happened?--Was the father a rich man?--Did the story say he was rich or did you just think he was?--If he had not married a widow could things have happened as they did?--How did the widow and her daughters treat Cinderella?--If Cinderella had not been mistreated would her fairy godmother have come to her aid?--If the fairy had not appeared could the story have been the same?--How did the fairy make the golden coach?--Could she have made it out of anything else?--If she had made one just as good out of something else, could Cinderella have gone to the ball just as well?--If Cinderella went to the ball in good style did it matter how she went?--If Cinderella had not gone to the ball, could she have met the prince?--Was it as important then that she should have a coach made from a pumpkin as that she should go to the ball and meet the prince?--Can you think of something else just as necessary to make the story come out right as that Cinderella should go to the ball?--Can you think of other things that must have happened just as they did to make the story come out right and just as it did?--Can you think of some things that might have happened differently and still not have hurt the story at all?--Let us put together all the things that must have happened to make the story right and leave out the things that could be changed. Now, what are they?--Now let us find a few things we could leave out or change. What are some of them?--If we left them out the story would come out the same, but would it be as good, as interesting?--Would you like Cinderella as well if these little things had been left out?--Would you think as much of the prince if he had found Cinderella right away as you do when he has to do so many hard things before he finds her?"

Every one must realize the impossibility of providing a scheme of questioning that would fit exactly any given case, but will not the above suggest a method that may lead to many a happy and profitable evening at the family round table? Even if there are older children in the group they will renew their interest in the old stories and get more good from them when it is seen that father and mother do not deem it beneath their dignity, nor outside the range of their interests, to read and study a fairy tale.

In _Journeys Through Bookland_ are here and there outlines and questions designed to lead the children to see for themselves what it is hoped others will take pleasure in showing them. Examples of the selections which contain outlines, questions and comments designed to help in the study of the plot may be found as follows:

Volume I, page 264. _The Twin Brothers._
Volume I, page 395. _Something._
Volume II, page 124. _The Snow Queen._
Volume IV, page 174. _Incident of the French Camp._
Volume VIII, page 364. _The Tempest._
Volume IX, page 232. _The Gold-Bug._

B. THE PERSONS

In most stories, be they brief and simple or as long and complicated as the two-volume novel, the interest centers in one or more persons whose character the reader learns to understand, and whose success or failure, joy or grief gives him pleasure or excites his sympathy. All events center about the hero or heroes, and while other persons may be mentioned, and even win the reader's attention for a time, they finally subside into the background and are remembered only as they contribute to greater interest in the principal characters.

Every author tries to make his heroes and heroines speak and act like real human beings and show their characters by their actions and their words. Sometimes, however, he tells the reader just how his people look, feel and think, and describes their characters to give an interest in what happens to them. A more interesting method and a more artistic one is to leave the persons to disclose themselves as the story progresses, making them show by the way they act and by what they say under certain circumstances the strong and weak qualities in their natures. Nothing is more interesting than to watch the development of character in the hero of a story, particularly when it is accomplished under conditions which are themselves interesting.

In studying the persons in a story, then, the chief things to keep in mind are the following:

1. The principal person, or hero--the one, or perhaps the ones, in whose fortunes the reader is most vitally interested.

2. The secondary persons who are introduced merely to add variety or to throw light upon the character of the hero, or to assist to bring about the events which center about him.

3. The appearance, dress and manners of the persons.

4. The ways in which the author makes his persons lifelike and shows the reader what they really are.

5. The characters of the persons as they appear or as they are developed in the progress of the story. This is the really important part of the study, the one which becomes increasingly interesting as readers grow older and the stories they study become more and more complex and difficult. The study of the characters of Shakespeare's heroes and heroines is more than interesting pastime for men and women--it is good, hard work.

For a simple example of what is meant, let us undertake briefly the study of _The Hardy Tin Soldier_ (Volume I, page 148).

1. The hero is the Hardy Tin Soldier himself.

2. Persons of secondary importance are:

a. The twenty-four brothers.
b. The little boy.
c. The Dancing Lady.
d. The Goblin.
e. The servant-maid.
f. The two street boys.
g. The Water Rat.
h. The fish.
i. The cook.

Of these the Dancing Lady is second only to the lame Soldier; the Goblin, the two street boys, the little boy and the Water Rat are given considerable prominence, while the twenty-four brothers, the servant-maid, the fish and the cook are introduced merely to effect a certain incident or to give an air of truthfulness to the events. This is a fairy tale, and in it we must be faithful to our juvenile friends, considering the Goblin, the Water Rat and the fish as real persons, and the Tin Soldier as a very human being.

3. In appearance the Tin Soldier was tall and erect, but alas! he had only one leg! His uniform was red and blue and very splendid. He carried his musket across his shoulder as a marching soldier should, kept his eyes straight to the front, and stood very firmly upon his one foot. In the fire he lost the tinsel and the color from his uniform, and when the Dancer joined him he melted into a little tin heart.

4. While Andersen tells outright some of the characteristics of the little Soldier, he leaves others to be inferred from acts. The Soldier thinks, and sometimes the reader is told just what he thinks, but never once does he speak--to him silence is golden. Yet not once do we miss his voice, and it is only when we have finished that we suddenly think what a silent little body he is. That is part of the author's art. The Soldier never once moves his eyes, or changes his attitude; the author never forgets that he is a _tin_ soldier, but makes his every act consistent with his stiffness and rigidity. That is more of the author's skill. There were other soldiers, twenty-four of them, and all were brothers. A less skilful author would have stopped in the telling of the fact, but Andersen adds in his whimsical, charming manner, "for they were all born of one tin spoon." All the other brothers were perfect; our Soldier had but one leg, yet "it was just this soldier who became remarkable." Even the missing leg creates an interest, and Andersen uses it to center our attention upon his little hero.

5. Andersen tells us the following things about the Tin Soldier's character:

a. He stood firmly even with but one leg to balance himself upon.

b. He thought his box was not a place for a lady-wife who lived in a castle. This showed his humility.

c. Yet he was very human--"I must make her acquaintance."

d. When he fell from the window, he put his leg straight up, stuck his helmet downward and his bayonet between the paving stones.

e. He would not call loudly to the servant-maid because he was in the uniform of a soldier.

f. While in the boat rushing down the gutter, he trembled, but he never changed countenance, and still looked straight before him.

g. He sighed for the little Lady's company, while passing through the drain.

h. He would not answer the Water Rat.

i. He stiffened himself and would not move an eyelid when the paper boat sank.

j. He lay unmoved even in the darkness of the fish's body.

k. He was not at all proud when he was rescued.

l. When he saw the Dancer again he very nearly wept tin tears, but he thought how improper that would be, and kept them back.

m. He stood firm and shouldered his musket although the fire, or grief, made all the colors leave him.

n. When the Dancer joined him in the flames he melted into a heart-shaped lump of tin.

What a fine little Tin Soldier he proves to be! Could any one be more loyal to his profession? Body erect, eyes to the front, musket shouldered, every muscle at attention all the time, no matter if he had but one leg to stand upon. He was brave as a lion, although once in the presence of the direst danger he trembled a little, but he drove every sign of fear from his face and stood his ground manfully. After he had once seen the Dancer and realized how similar her trials must be to his, how constant he was in his devotion! At his death what could be more fitting than to see him melt into a little heart-shaped mass, the symbol of his courage and constancy! Why should we call him the _hardy_ Tin Soldier; would it not have been better if the translator had called him the _constant_ Tin Soldier?

Now, when we give the hero of this pretty little story so much attention, does it not seem worth while? Will not we, grown men and women, find so much in the hero that we may gather our young friends about us and lead them to see how admirable a character he has and how beautifully Andersen has shown it? If we talk not _to_ the boys and girls, but _with_ them, if we invite their questions as to the Tin Soldier's character, and by our informal questions lead them to appreciate the strength, courage, and devotion of the little toy, will they not get some taste for a good story well written, and perhaps, learn some little lessons that will help them to be better men and women?

_Journeys_ furnishes you with many another fine story, equally interesting. There are a number of the tales, too, which may call for your own best efforts in the study of character, and from which even you may derive some genuine help in the heavy problems life thrusts upon you.

In many places, too, the present writer has appended outlines and questions which the young people themselves may like to pore over and which may assist the inquiring parent even more than the brief study above. The following are particularly suggestive:

Volume I, page 224. _Cinderella._
Volume IV, page 93. _A Dog of Flanders._
Volume VIII, page 335. _Dream Children._
Volume VIII, page 364. _The Tempest._

C. THE SCENES

One of the benefits of good reading is that it fills the mind with beautiful pictures of places that we cannot visit or that live only in the eyes of the imagination. A powerful descriptive writer takes his reader with him, and by graphic words makes visible and almost real the scenes among which they wander. One may sit in the light of his study lamp during a black northern winter and read himself away from the chill and dreariness into some warm, sunny clime where flowers of new and rare forms flaunt their gorgeous colors and perfume the air with strange delicious odors; great trees with tufts of far-reaching leaves cast their welcome shade, and long vines trail gracefully from their living supports. Wonderful birds with brilliant plumage flit about, as through the openings in the trees glimpses are given of long waves rolling gently upon the glistening beach. It is only necessary to give free rein to the imagination and to visualize the scenes that the skilful writer describes.

There are people of such literal minds that descriptive writing fails to appeal to them. It is their misfortune. To others every word brings a picture that appears almost as vivid and as full of detail as those upon which the material eye gazes. Like any other power of the mind, this may be cultivated, even among the mature. Children are highly gifted with this power, to begin with, and only a little training is necessary to make them use the faculty freely for their own delight. Suggest to them the outlines of a picture, and see how rapidly they will fill in the details.

No two can see precisely the same imaginary picture; in fact, no two people looking at the same landscape will see precisely the same things, and if they are asked to describe what they see, it will appear that things which are most vivid to one may have made little impression upon the other. It is not to be expected, then, that two children reading a description of some scene will get the same picture of it. Each will color his own from the previous impressions and experiences he has had. Yet to each the picture may be very real and very pleasing. Good teachers of reading spend much time and effort in teaching the young to visualize the scenes of which they read, not only because of the pleasure it will afford the young when they are mature, but because the power to see vividly is of greatest assistance in every department of study.

In some stories little attention is given to the scene; in fact, the persons might appear anywhere and not be in the least affected by their surroundings, and the events might have happened in China as well as in England. Even then, however, there will be found mention of many things that seem to give locality to the story. At the other extreme are writers who lose themselves in descriptive flights and pause to describe a sunset while the heroine is perishing, and the hero must stand helpless until the author has painted the last color in the sky. In the best literature for children, description is so mingled with narrative that while there are fine pictures to see, they do not fall in the way of the events which the young reader follows with such breathless interest. In fact, the pictures aid the narrative.

There is of course in every story much descriptive writing that does not apply to the scenes among which the plot is laid, yet it is well to make a study of description from the scenes, for it is here that the author has his greatest opportunity for pictorial writing.

If the story is brief there may be but one scene. Everything may happen in one place, and none of the surroundings may change. For instance, in the fable of _The Dog and His Shadow_ (Volume I, page 63) there is but one incident, which happens in one place. Such a simple story, however, furnishes the material for a good picture, and in bringing it out to a child who reads or hears the fable for the first time, the parent is giving good service that will lead to keener appreciation and higher power of interpretation in his child's later years. What can be made out of this picture, and how should it be done? Let us see:

The fable is told in simple words, and only plain facts are stated. What are the elements of our picture? We can find only six, viz.: a big dog; a big piece of meat; day; a river; a narrow bridge; the dog's image. Now if we were to draw a picture to illustrate this fable we would begin with a general sketch. Should we show a level country, or are there hills about? Is it barren and desolate, or are there trees? Are there houses near? Where did the dog get his meat? Is it a large river, or only a small one? The bridge is narrow; has it a railing along the side? Would the dog be liable to see his image if it was a wagon bridge? Was it then a mere foot bridge? Would a single plank across a small stream answer the purpose? The dog is big; is it a dog that knows and likes the water? Would you think it could be a Newfoundland dog? What kind of a dog is it? It is day time; is the sun shining? Do you imagine it is morning or noon, or that it is toward evening? In making your pictures would you draw the trees to show the leaves blown by the wind? If the dog sees his image, is the water smooth or rough? Is the stream rapid and rough, or smooth and placid?

While such questioning is going on both speaker and listener are seeing more clearly every minute. Besides, in order to see accurately they are drawing on their own previous knowledge and experience, and are reasoning just as truly as though they were solving a problem in arithmetic.

In every picture we form in our reading there are certain elements that we must accept and include because the writer gives them to us. Other elements suggest themselves, and we accept them and put them in place or reject them entirely. In the fable just discussed we are told that the dog is big, the piece of meat is big, and the bridge is narrow. We may not see a small dog with a little piece of meat on a big, wide bridge. Houses, trees, sedges on the river bank, children playing by the side of the path, spring, summer or autumn foliage, or even snowclad shores with black water between--any of these we may put into our picture, for the fable is silent on these points. We must be accurate, and the parent can do no better service in reading than to make his child see accurately whatever he sees at all.

The artist studies the selection he means to illustrate in just this way, and then draws his picture. When we see his picture we may accept it as good and true to the conditions, or call it poor and inapplicable. We should not be hasty, but should try to get his point of view before we criticise. If he violates any of the fixed conditions of the story his work is bad; if he gives us his interpretation and violates no fixed conditions, his work may be good or bad according to the standards we set up: are we always certain that our standards are correct?

In the fable _The Fox and the Stork_ (Volume I, page 73) the artist has given us two beautiful pictures which in themselves tell almost the entire story, and his pictures are almost wholly from his own imagination, for there was given him to work with very little more than a fox, a stork, a wide dish and a vase. Such a pictorial imagination as he possessed is what should be cultivated in children. If they can be encouraged to draw what they see, they not only fix their own impressions, but they learn to see more vividly and more accurately.

In long stories there are many scenes; it may be that no two incidents happen in the same place. In the drama, which contains all the elements of the story, the scenes are limited in number, are fixed and unchanging and after the reader has arranged his scenery he may give his attention exclusively to the dialogue because he knows there will be no change in the scene. In the story the reader may need to be constantly alert, as when his hero takes a long and perilous journey the scenes may change with the quickness of a kaleidoscope, and yet all be important to the narrative. The more complex the story, the greater the variety in scene, and consequently the greater the opportunities for study. It is interesting work for children to pick out the scenes, to count them and then to compare them. Some of them are more vividly portrayed than others. Why? Some are more important as descriptions, and some because of the incidents occurring in them.

Sometimes, especially in speaking of the drama, the word _scene_ is applied not only in its literal sense, but also to include not merely the place but the incidents that happen in the place, as well.

For instance, we may say, "The quarrel between Brutus and Cassius is a wonderful scene in _Julius Cæsar_." Again, the word is used sometimes to mark the division of a play, as when we speak of the second scene in the first act of _Macbeth_. For our purposes, however, in our early reading with children, let us use it to signify only the place where events happen.

An author may tell us at the beginning of a story that the scene is laid in London, or in Calcutta, or in the Black Forest; but unless he employs some method of giving a vivid impression of the setting of the story, we soon lose sight of locality. Sometimes, of course, it is not necessary that we should remember the place--the story moves on independent of scene; but other stories depend in part for their interest and even for their plot upon their setting. In such cases, the author, by reference to the natural features characteristic of a region, or to the peculiar traits or mannerisms or turns of speech of his characters, keeps before us the place in which the scene is laid. Such peculiarities of a place or its inhabitants, when introduced into a story, are given the name of local coloring.

In _A Christmas Carol_ (Volume VI, page 244), Dickens meant that we should be conscious throughout not only of a Christmas atmosphere, but of an _English_ Christmas atmosphere. The references to the Christmas feeling are too obvious to require pointing out, but the methods by which the author makes us conscious that we are in London do not show so clearly at first sight. By a study of the paragraph which begins in the middle of page 253, and of the one immediately following it, we may get some idea of these methods.

"Meanwhile the _fog_ and darkness thickened so, that the people ran about with flaring _links_." A London boy would not need a footnote to tell him that the fogs of London are famous; that they are at times so thick that all traffic is obliged to cease. Nor would he need to be told that links are torches of tow and pitch, which enterprising London boys provided themselves with at foggy times, that they might earn money by piloting people about. The word _brazier_, too, is in commoner use in England than it is in the United States. The _poulterers'_ trade is another English touch.

Every one knows that the _Lord Mayor_ is the chief official of the city of London, but perhaps we do not all know that _Mansion House_, with its great banqueting-hall where the state dinners are held, is the residence of the Lord Mayor.

Now-a-days we all know what English _plum pudding_ is--it is served at many American tables on Christmas day. But nothing is more characteristically English, unless, indeed, it is the _roast beef_, not turkey, which the tailor was planning to have for his Christmas dinner.

Probably no one but an English writer, writing of an English subject, would refer in Dickens's off-hand manner to Dunstan, the English statesman and archbishop who accomplished so much for religion that he came to be known as Saint Dunstan.

One of the most characteristically English touches in the two paragraphs is the reference to the _carol_ sung by the boy at Scrooge's keyhole. Other countries have Christmas carols, but the custom of singing them before people's houses is peculiarly common in England. The carol of which the first two lines are quoted is perhaps the one most frequently sung.

These instances will give some idea of what is meant by local color, and of the methods used in securing it. It will be an interesting study to find other words and phrases in the remainder of the story which strengthen our feeling of the "Englishness" of _A Christmas Carol_.

_Journeys Through Bookland_ furnishes an abundance of good stories of fine descriptive power. A few of the best are the following:

Volume II, page 405. _The King of the Golden River._
Volume IV, page 174. _Incident of the French Camp._
Volume IV, page 322. _The Attack on the Castle._
Volume VI, page 173. _Sohrab and Rustum._

D AND E. THE LESSON AND THE AUTHOR'S PURPOSE

The stories of the present day are many of them written with the avowed purpose of mere entertainment. The author is satisfied if his work sells, and cares nothing for the lesson he may teach, although by means of false views of life he may do ineffaceable harm to the minds of his readers. Many of the popular magazines and other periodicals, not even excepting some of those published especially for children, are full of light reading which vitiates the taste and may even undermine character by its seductive influence. In the effort to be entertaining the recent writers for children have only too frequently sacrificed strength and virility to a fascinating brilliancy that seizes the imagination of youthful readers and gives no material for subsequent growth. The earlier writers, those who produced the great classics which still are the most inspiring things in our language, were actuated by nobler motives. To them literature was not a trade, but a high calling, to which the writer came as a priest approaches his altar. Such a writer held a high purpose and kept it in view, often giving hours of thought and the best of his genius to work that the modern story writer neglects entirely or passes over with hasty evasion.

The purpose of the author is always a subject of interesting inquiry, and whenever it appears a serious one it is worthy our careful study. The novel is often the medium of conveying the results of deep study into human character, and a few of the greatest stories have been epoch-making in their effect upon the human race.

As the fiction which children read has a profound influence in the formation of character, it should always be examined with greatest care to see that the author's purpose is a laudable one and that he carries it out in such a way that the lesson is wholesome and salutary. Some stories may be entertaining merely--they are for the play-spells of the imagination; others should be instructive--they are for hours of study and reflection; a third class should be invigorating and inspiring, full of good lessons of high moral import--they are for times of stress, or the still hours when character is made.

If, however, the purpose of the author is too evident, if his lesson is too obvious, none are so quick to catch the fact as wide-awake childish readers. The author who lugs instruction and information into his stories will find the boys and girls skipping all that he values, or laying down his books with laughter and derision. The writer who moralizes may find his work to be immoral in its effect on his juvenile readers, or may see his stories relegated to the overloaded bargain counters.

In the same sense, it is often unwise to dwell long upon the moral of a story or even to point it out if it be at all evident. There is no phase of teaching reading that requires such careful thought or such fine discrimination from the parent as that which relates to the lesson of the story. It is often better to let the selection do its own work than to try to elaborate its purpose. Yet a skilful and sympathetic leader, one quick to read the feelings of his young listeners, may often render his greatest service in free conversations about what the story teaches. It would seem that no one could do this quite as well as the parent who has known his boys and girls from infancy and can see in his offspring those very traits of character which have been to his own advantage or detriment.

More will be accomplished by questioning with occasional comments than by preaching, more by showing the help the story gives to the questioner than by trying to foist its assistance upon the hearer. "Now there is a fine lesson for you, my boy. I want you to remember it," is not half so effective as "That idea seems good to me. I've often thought about it but never seemed to realize it so much. I shall try to remember it." Wouldn't you, dear parent, rather learn _with_ your friend than to have him always instructing you? "What do you think of that, John?" is much more apt to help the boy than "You must see it this way, John." Are you not, dear parent, rather proud of your own judgment, and do you not suppose your son has inherited your feeling to some extent at least?

We heard the old fables in our babyhood and read them in Latin as we grew older, and we still are fond of them, though the "morals" have long since been forgotten. Those wise lessons so graphically presented have helped to form our characters, but not through the formal "moral" at the end. Beware of "_Haec fabula docet_."[189-1]

As a further suggestion of method we may consider for a few moments that beautiful but sad little story of Andersen's, _The Fir Tree_ (Volume II, page 68). Every good story is worth reading more than once, and every good method of teaching involves more than one reading. In this instance as children read or listen, they are first interested in the story as a story; that is, in the plot. They enjoy the adventures of the Fir Tree and may feel for it in its misfortunes, but their interest is in the tale. When they have read to the end, however, they will be interested in the appearance of the tree, their hero, and in the other characters which give vitality to the story. Then the scenes may be talked over, and varied enough they are to excite real interest as the story is read now with the definite purpose of seeing the pictures Andersen has sketched. With all this in mind the children are ready to think over it again and learn the lesson the great prose-poet meant to give. If the character of the Fir Tree is well understood, the lesson almost tells itself, for ambition, arrogance and discontent are seen as the traits that make for unhappiness. The Fir Tree might have been happy many times if it had only been content. At the worst it gave happiness to others, and therein, perhaps, filled its place in the world. Human beings must often find their pleasure in giving happiness to others and must be content to know that they are of service to others. Some of the lessons of _The Fir Tree_ are rather hard for little folks to understand, and there is something in the charming story for those older readers that have hearts young enough to see the meaning.

Study the purpose in the following:

Volume I, page 414. _The Ugly Duckling._
Volume II, page 124. _The Snow Queen._

F. THE METHOD AND STYLE OF THE AUTHOR

Small children are not interested in considering the way in which an author tells his story, nor the methods he employs to secure attention and excite interest. Yet there comes a time when such a study is highly pleasing to inquiring youth. It is desirable always that children should early begin to appreciate the difference in the way plots are handled, to discriminate between a tale that is well told and one that is poorly told. At an early age boys delight in stories that are full of the excitement of adventure, conflict and mystery. Their craving is natural enough and must be satisfied. At such time they will read little or nothing else unless they are driven to it, and to compel them to read what they do not want is to make them hate reading for the time being and perhaps permanently. In time they will outgrow the taste--it is nothing to be feared if properly guided. The danger lies in the fact that they may find the excitement they wish in stories that are really immoral, or that are so poorly written that they destroy all taste for fine literature. The right course is to supply plenty of reading in which excitement abounds, where Indians stalk the woods, pirates rove the seas, and knights fight for their lady-loves, but always in stories that are so well told that the taste for good reading is cultivated unconsciously as the boy reads. _Treasure Island_ is bloody enough for the most exacting boy, and it bears many a reading, for it is so charmingly told that long after the cry, "Pieces of eight, pieces of eight," has ceased to make the welcome chills run up and down the boy's back, he returns to the story for the pleasure he finds in the style of Stevenson. In later years the boy will write better and speak better for having read the story.

However, the parent may do much to help his child along by calling attention to vivid figures of speech, to happy expressions of all kinds, and to those graceful touches of humor and pathos that are so characteristic of Andersen, Stevenson, Ruskin, Kingsley, and other great writers for boys and girls. No child who can read well for himself is too young to appreciate a good figure of speech if the comparison is based upon something falling within his own experience. Who is so young, or so old, for that matter, that he will not thrill a little at Longfellow's lines:

"Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels."