“It is difficult,” so he says, “... in this era of literary affluence, almost amounting to surfeit, to conceive of the poverty of books suited to children in the days of which I write. Except the New England Primer--the main contents of which were the Westminster Catechism--and some rhymes, embellished with hideous cuts of Adam’s Fall, in which ‘we sinned all’; the apostle and a cock crowing at his side, to show that ‘Peter denies his Lord and cries’; Nebuchadnezzar crawling about like a hog, the bristles sticking out of his back, and the like--I remember none that were in general use among my companions. When I was about ten years old, my father brought from Hartford ‘Gaffer Ginger,’ ‘Goody Two Shoes,’ and some of the rhymes and jingles now collected under the name of ‘Mother Goose,’ with perhaps a few other toy books of that day. These were a revelation. Of course I read them, but I must add, with no relish.” The confession follows that when he was given “Red Riding Hood,” he was filled with contempt; and in this spirit he condemns such nonsense as “hie diddle diddle,” which is not fit for Christian parents to use. He found some considerable pleasure in “Robinson Crusoe,” but it was not until he met with Miss Hannah More’s tracts that he might be said to have enjoyed with relish any book at all. Thus his reading tastes foreshadowed his literary activity. When he turned writer, he aimed for the style which distinguishes Mary Howitt, Mrs. Hofland, and Miss Strickland; he disclaimed any interest in the nursery book that was unreasonable and untruthful, for so he considered most of the stories of fancy. In his books, his desire was chiefly “to feed the young mind upon things wholesome and pure, instead of things monstrous, false, and pestilent.... In short, that the element of nursery books should consist of beauty instead of deformity, goodness instead of wickedness, decency instead of vulgarity.” In this manner, the mould of the Peter Parley tales was shaped. Goodrich at first adopted no philosophy of construction, so he says; he aimed to tell his story as he would have spoken it to a group of boys. But after a while, a strong sense of the child’s gradual growth took hold of him; he recognised psychological stages, and he saw that, as in teaching, his books must consider that children’s “first ideas are simple and single, and formed of images of things palpable to the senses.” While on a visit to England in 1823--the memorable time he met Miss More--he turned his attention to what was being accomplished there in popular education for children. After investigation, he thus wrote: “Did not children love truth? If so, was it necessary to feed them on fiction? Could not history, natural history, geography, biography become the elements of juvenile works, in place of fairies and giants, and mere monsters of the imagination? These were the inquiries that from this time filled my mind.”