lled Placid too. But would they be placid? And was Mr.
Piner's father a piner? It is even more perplexing when the name carries
a calling as well, as in Farmer Wheatear, and Giles Joltem, the carter,
and Mr. Coverup, the sexton, in the old story of _Dame Partlet's Farm_.
Suppose Mr. Joltem's son had become a chauffeur, with rubber tyres? Or
could he? If not, these names must have immensely have simplified the
question 'What to do with our boys?'

It is hardly necessary to say that the books which Jemima took back with
her from London (on page 46), and which gave such pleasure, were all
published by the same firm that issued her own history. This was a
system of advertisement brought to perfection by Newbery of St. Paul's
Churchyard. It is so very artless and amusing that one is sorry it has
died out.

For the 'Two Trials' I have gone to a little work entitled _Juvenile
Trials for telling Fibs, robbing Orchards, and Other Offences_, 1816,
from which, via _Evenings at Home_, I borrowed a story for _Old
Fashioned Tales_. The book is anonymous. Surely such schoolboys and
schoolgirls never were on sea or shore; but that does not matter. In the
old books one did not look for reality.

I have included 'Prince Life' for two reasons. Partly because it seems
to me not bad of its kind, although far from being as good as 'Uncle
David's Nonsensical Story' in the _Old-Fashioned Tales_, and partly
because I thought it interesting to show what kind of stories historical
novelists write for their own families--for 'Prince Life' was written in
1855 for his little boy by G. P. R. James, the author of _The Smuggler_,
_Richelieu_, _Darnley_, and scores of other romances. Allegories, I
must confess, are not much to my taste; but I have so frequently found
that what I like others dislike, and what I dislike others like, that I
include 'Prince Life' here quite confidently. It has given Mr. Bedford
material for a good picture, anyway.

'The Farmyard Journal,' which follows, is not dramatic, but it has
plenty of incident, and is included here to foster the gift of
observation. I found it in a favourite and very excellent and wise old
book, _Evenings at Home_, by the strong-minded Aikins--a kind of work
which it grieves one to think is outgrown not only by the readers of
children's books, but by their writers too.

'The Fruits of Disobedience,' which comes next, follows ordinary lines,
and is chiefly remarkable for its busy clergy. I include