r in bitter conflict with _Apollyon_.

For the same reason, the Book of Proverbs should be commended to
youthful study. Under wise supervision--or rather, in mutual study--it
becomes at once a series of vivid pictures of primitive Eastern
life--for all allusions should be explained, where possible,
pictorially--while at the same time the memory will be insensibly
stored with shrewd common sense and knowledge of the world, to be
turned to, and drawn upon, as needed.

And then, while the children revel in the fun and the fancy of Hans
Andersen's _Fairy Tales_, let the sorrowful or sore or wounded heart
turn to them for solace, soothing or healing. Hans Andersen enjoys a
very special "popularity" and yet some, who have learned to love and
value him, doubt whether justice has yet been done to his work.
Because it is matchless for the young, it may be easily forgotten that
it can be so, only by some quality which makes it matchless for all
others. Perhaps some of his most popular stories are not his most
wonderful, but have simply caught the popular fancy, because of some
artist's illustration, or some personal application to the writer's
own history, as in the case of his _Ugly Duckling_. How many--or
rather, how few!--can readily recall the pathos and wit of his
_Portuguese Duck_ or the deep philosophy of his _Girl Who Trod on a
Loaf_?

It is told of Hans Andersen, a gentle soul in a homely exterior, which
attracted the snubs and neglect which "patient merit of the unworthy
takes," on some such occasion was once heard to murmur: "And yet I am
the greatest man now in the world!" It was very naive of him to say
so, even in a whisper, probably wrung from him only in self-defence,
but perhaps he might have thought it, in solemn silence--and--not been
so very wrong! It may have been part of the very transparency of his
inspired genius that he could not keep the secret to himself!

There is at least one reader who declares that she finds the seeds of
all vital philosophy--ancient or modern--in his stories. How much he
derived from those who went before him, it is not for us to say, but
this disciple, herself a devoted student and admirer of the world's
latest teacher, Leo Tolstoy, yet puts Hans Andersen above him, as
having attained in practically all his work what Tolstoy attained only
occasionally--_i.e._ Tolstoy's own ideal of what Art should be and do.

In such a paper as this little can be done beyond indicating on the