ven after rejecting the brutal and sentimental we
have a good deal left,--a good deal that is intrinsically amusing as in
"The Musicians of Bremen" or "Prudent Hans" or charming as in "Briar
Rose." Symbolic or primitive attempts to explain the physical world,--as
in the Indian legend of "Tavwots" I have never found held great appeal
for the modern six- or seven-year-old scientists. Also the burden
of symbolic morality rests on a good many of the traditional tales which
usually neither adds nor detracts for the child and satisfies an adult
yearning. Allegories like AEsop's "Fables" and "The Lion of Androcles"
have a certain right to a hearing because of their historic prestige,
apart from any reform they may accomplish in the way of character
building. And in our own day many animals have achieved what I believe
is a permanent place in child literature. "The Elephant's Child," the
wild creatures of the "Jungle Book," "Raggylug" and even the little
mole in the "Wind in the Willows,"--these are animals to trust any child
with. Yet even in these exquisitely drawn tales, I doubt if children
enjoy what we adults wish them to enjoy either in content or in form.
And I doubt if we should accept even some of Kipling's matchless tales
if the faultless form did not intrigue us and make us oblivious of the
content.

It is just here that most of us fail to be discriminating. Most of
the classical literature, most of the legends, or the folk tales that
I have been discussing have a compelling charm through their form. But
unfortunately that does not make their content suitable! Their place
in the world's thinking and feeling and their transcription into their
present forms by really great artists give them a permanent place in
the world's literature. This I do not question. It is partly because I
believe this so intensely that I wish them kept for fuller appreciation.
It is as formative factors in a young child's thinking that I am afraid
of them. Neither am I afraid of all of them. There are some old
conceptions of life and death and human relations which the race has not
outgrown, perhaps never will outgrow. The mystery and pathos of the Pied
Piper, the humor of Prudent Hans, the cleverness of the boy David, the
heroism of the little Dutch boy stopping the hole in the dyke, the love
of the Queer Little Baker, and the greed and grief of Midas are eternal.
In spite of these and many more, I maintain that for the most part,
myths, saga