as he envies them the shoals of delightful books
which publishers prepare for the Christmas tables of lucky children. If
he be old enough to remember Mrs. Trimmer's "History of the Robins,"
"The Fairchild Family," or that Poly-technically inspired romance, the
"Swiss Family Robinson," he feels that a certain half-hearted approval
of more dreary volumes is possibly due to the glamour which middle age
casts upon the past. It is said that even Barbauld's "Evenings at Home"
and "Sandford and Merton" (the anecdotes only, I imagine) have been
found toothsome dainties by unjaded youthful appetites; but when he
compares these with the books of the last twenty years, he wishes he
could become a child again to enjoy their sweets to the full.

[Illustration: _"CRUSOE SETS SAIL ON HIS EVENTFUL VOYAGE" FROM AN
EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY CHAP-BOOK_]

Now nine-tenths of this improvement is due to artist and publisher;
although it is obvious that illustrations imply something to illustrate,
and, as a rule (not by any means without exception), the better the text
the better the pictures. Years before good picture-books there were good
stories, and these, whether they be the classics of the nursery, the
laureates of its rhyme, the unknown author of its sagas, the born
story-tellers--whether they date from prehistoric cave-dwellers, or are
of our own age, like Charles Kingsley or Lewis Carroll--supply the text
to spur on the artist to his best achievements.

[Illustration: "THE TRUE TALE OF ROBIN HOOD." FROM AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY
CHAP-BOOK]

It is mainly a labour of love to infuse pictures intended for childish
eyes with qualities that pertain to art. We like to believe that Walter
Crane, Caldecott, Kate Greenaway and the rest receive ample appreciation
from the small people. That they do in some cases is certain; but it is
also quite as evident that the veriest daub, if its subject be
attractive, is enjoyed no less thoroughly. There are prigs of course,
the children of the "prignorant," who babble of Botticelli, and profess
to disdain any picture not conceived with "high art" mannerism. Yet even
these will forget their pretence, and roar over a _Comic Cuts_ found on
the seat of a railway carriage, or stand delighted before some
unspeakable poster of a melodrama. It is well to face the plain fact
that the most popular illustrated books which please the children are
not always those which satisfy the critical adult. As a rule it is the
"grown-