We are no longer children, — but it is not long since we were; and remembering that golden time, when the sun was brighter, the flowers twice as many, the rivers larger, and everything fairer, than it ever has been since, we welcome this book of fables for children. The writer of them was herself a girl of sixteen when they were written, — many, many years ago, — and of course their chief charm is for younger people than we venerable undergraduates. And the children (whose judgment is best) declare loudly for the book, and listen pleased for hours to the adventures of Lily-Bell and Thistledown and the kind little Ripple. But others also can find a pleasure in the love and knowledge of Nature which the book shows, and in its graceful fancies and sweet lessons of charity and patience. The men and women who write stories for children do a greater work for the world than we are wont to think of. Horace praised poets because they formed the ‘tender mouth’ of children, and turned them from the vile to the beautiful. Miss Alcott does not need to ‘Claim the shelter from her sire of an immortal name, ‘ for she has earned praises for herself.
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