When I study the evolution of the story from the crude recitals offered to our children within the last hundred years, I feel that, though our progress may be slow, it is real and sure. One has only to take some examples from the Chaps Books of the beginning of last century to realize the difference of appeal. Everything offered then was either an appeal to fear or to priggishness, and one wonders how it is that our grandparents and their parents every recovered from the effects of such stories as were offered to them. But there is the consoling thought that no lasting impression was made upon them, such as I believe _may_ be possible by the right kind of story. I offer a few examples of the old type of story: Here is an encouraging address offered to children by a certain Mr. Janeway about the year 1828: "Dare you do anything which your parents forbid you, and neglect to do what they command? Dare you to run up and down on the Lord's Day, or do you keep in to read your book, and learn what your good parents command?" Such an address would have almost tempted children to envy the lot of orphans, except that the guardians and less close relations might have been equally, if not more, severe. From "The Curious Girl," published about 1809: "Oh! papa, I hope you will have no reason to be dissatisfied with me, for I love my studies very much, and I am never so happy at my play as when I have been assiduous at my lessons all day." "Adolphus: How strange it is, papa, you should believe it possible for me to act so like a child, now that I am twelve years old!" Here is a specimen taken from a Chap Book about 1835: Edward refuses hot bread at breakfast. His hostess asks whether he likes it. "Yes, I am extremely fond of it." "Why did you refuse it?" "Because I know that my papa does not approve of my eating it. Am I to disobey a Father and Mother I love so well, and forget my duty, because they are a long way off? I would not touch the cake, were I sure nobody would see me. I myself should know it, and that would be sufficient. "Nobly replied!" exclaimed Mrs. C. "Act always thus, and you must be happy, for although the whole world should refuse the praise that is due, you must enjoy the approbation of your conscience, which is beyond anything else." Here is a quotation of the same kind from Mrs. Sherwood: