MRS. MOLESWO RTH'S CHILD'S ROMANCE.* MOLESWORTIT is mistress of the

art of writing for children, and can even mystify them, we suspect, without exciting the proper amount of resentment that mystification ought always to excite in the minds of children. But the pre- sent writer, though very much of a child, is certainly a

• The Tapestry Room: a Childs Romance. By lam Moblaworth. Illuntratad by do Walter Crane. Lonn ; Manmillan and Co. very old child, and up to all the liberties which older people take with children ; and the first strong desire which he felt, after enjoying this charming little book, was to cross-

examine Mrs. Molesworth, in the presence of a company of children, as to the uprightness of her intentions in relation to the magic elements of her tale. Were her inten-

tions really honourable P Did she mean it for all honest fairy-story, or did she not? Why all this care to keep a sort of loophole through which it would be possible for IL rational-

istic-minded interpreter to creep, in support of the position that the fairy-stories were but dreams ? If 'there is one thing which a high-minded child resists more than another, it is any disposition to play fast-and-loose with marvels. Let the writer of children's stories do what he or she likes with facts, so long as the story is not spoiled by it ; but if marvels arc to be introduced, let us have them upright and honest mar- vels, without any backstairs in the way of explanations. We must plainly avow that we do not half like Mrs. Molesworth's inclination to keep open certain doors of escape from the

properly preternatural drift of these stories. It is very upsetting to children,—to the present child, at all eveuts,—to have any

doubt floating over a serious issue of this kind. 'There is, we fear we must say, in this otherwise very charming little book, a Jesuitical tendency to suggest rationalistic interpretutions,—a deliberate provision for a "Tract Ninety," that might ex- plain away the most charming parts of the story, as Cardinal Newman tried to explain away the awkward por- tions of the Thirty-nine Articles ; and this we regard as de- structive of the high morality and faith which ought always to linger about fairy-stories. Why is Jeanne only able to remember her fairy-adventures in her " moonlight" state ? Why do the children suddenly find themselves at their nurse's knees, when the white-haired old lady in the turret concludes the story she was spinning out for them P These things are suspicious. If they were put in to conciliate the party which objects to fairy-stories as "such nonsense," they will not succeed, while they will succeed in ministering to the rationalistic temper which discourages fairy-stories. If, on the other hand, Mrs. Molesworth wished to create something be- tween one of the old, thorough-going fairy-stories, and the play of a child's fancy in its dreams, she has admirably succeeded ; only we do not approve of these hybrids, and doubt their power to survive in the conflict for existence, at least in virtue of the principle of the survival of the fittest. Let us have our home-made bread or our rich cake, but let us have no bread-cakes, no cake-breads. If we are to have them, no

one could bake them better than Mrs. Molesworth. But just because she is 80 skilful in all her manufactures of this kind,

we entreat her to give up this mixed species, and go back either to pure nature or pure wonder, and give us no more crosses between the two.

Still, a very few wise omissions would purge this charming little story of its rationalistic suggestions, and leave it all that the most upright-minded child could wish. For instance, we would advise Mrs. Molesworth to leave out the conversation in the following extract where Hugh and Jeanne meet in fairy- land, as one of an exceedingly rationalistic turn, and tending to suggest that Jeanne believes herself to be meeting Hugh in dream-land only, and not in a good, solid world of wonders :-

The door had opmed, Hugh found himself standing at the top of two or three steps, which apparently were the back-approach to the strange long passage which be had entered from the tapestry-room. Outside it was light too, but not with the wonderful bright radiance that hael streamed out from the castle at the other side. Hero it was just very soft, very clear moonlight. There were trees before him— almost it seemed as if he were standing at the entrance of a forest. But, strange to say, they were not winttir trees, such as he had left behind him in the garden of Jeanne's house—bare and leafless, or if covered at all, covered only with their Christmas dress of snow and icicles—these trees were clothed with the loveliest foliage, fresh and green and feathery, which no winter's storms or nipping frosts had over conic near to blight. And in the little space between the door where Hugh stood and those wonderful trees was drawn up, as if awaiting him, the prettiest, queerest, most delicious little carriage that over was seen. It was open ; the cushions with which it wag lined were of rose-coloured plush—not velvet, I think; at least, if they were, velvet, it was of some marvellous kind that couldn't be rubbed the wrong way, that felt exquisitely smooth. and soft which- ever way you stroked it; the body of the carriage was shaped something like a cockle-shell ; you could lie back i in it so beautifully without cricking or straining your neck or shoulders the least ; and there was just room for two One of these two was already com- fortably settled,—eball I tell you wh.o it w.as now, or shall I keep it for a tit-bit at the end when I have quite finished about the carriage P Yes, that will he bettor. For the filmiest things about the carriage have to be told yet. Up on the box, in the coachman's place, you understand, holding with an air of the utmost importance in one claw a pair of yellow silk reins, his tufted head surmounted by a gold. laced livery hat, which, however, must have had a hole in the middle to let the tuft through, for there it was in all its glory waving over the hat like a dragoon's plume, gat, or stood, rather, Houpet ; while standing behind, holding on each with ono claw to the back of the carriage, like real footmen, were the two other chickens. They, too, had gold-laced hats and an air of solemn propriety, not quite so majestic as Houpet's for in their case the imposing tuft was wanting, bat still very fine of its kind. And who do you think were the horses ? for there were two,—or, to speak more correctly, there were no horses at all; but in the place where they should have been were harnessed, tandem-fashion, not abreast, Nibble the guinea-pig and Grignan the tortoise ! Nibble next the carriage, Original, of all creatures in the world, as leader. On sight of them Hugh began to laugh, so that he forgot to look more closely at the person in the car- riage, whose face he had not yet seen, BB it was turned the other way. But the sound of his laughing was too infectioua to be resisted—the small figure began to shako all over, and at last contain itself no longer. With a shout of merriment little Jeatine, for it was she, sprang out of the carriage and throw her arms round Hugh's neck. " 0 Cheri," she said, "I couldn't keep quiet any longer, though I wanted to hide my face till you had got into the carriage, and then surprise you. Bat it was so nice to hear you laugh—I couldn't keep still." Hugh felt too utterly astonished to reply. He just stared at Jeanne as if he could not believe his own eyes. And Jeanne did not look surprised at all ! That, to Hugh, was the most surprising part of the whole. "Joanne ! " he exclaimed, "you here ! Why, Dudu told me you were ever BO far away." "And so I am," replied Jeanne, laughing again, 'and so are you, Cheri. You have no idea how far away you are—miles, and miles, and miles, only in this country they don't have milestones. It's all quite different." "How do you mean P " asked Hugh. "How do you know all about it P You have never been bore before, have you P I couldn't quite understand Dudu —he meant, I think, that it was only your thinking part, or your fancying part, that was away.' Jeanne laughed again. Hugh felt a little impatient. ‘Jeanue,' he said, do leave off laughing and speak to me. What is this place ? and how did you come here P and have you over been here before ?'—' Yes,' said Jeanne, 'I think so ; but I don't know how I came. And I don't want to do anything but laugh and have fun. Never mind bow we came. It's a beautiful country, any way, and did you ever see anything so sweet as the little carriage they've sent for us, and wasn't it nice to see Houpet and all the others P'—' Yes,' said Hugh, very. But who do you moan by" they," Joanne P'—' Oh dear, deer!' exclaimed Jeanne, what a terrible boy you are. Do leave off asking questions, and let us have fun. Look, there are Grignan and the little cochon quite eager to be let off. Now, do jump in—we shall have such fun.' Hugh got in, willingly enough, though still he would have preferred to have sonic explanation from Jeanne of all the strange things that were happening. 'Isn't it nice P' said Joanne, when they had both nestled down among the delicious

soft cushions of the carriage. Yes,' said Hugh, 'it's very nice now, but it wasn't very nice when 1 was all alone in the dark in that long passage. As you seem to know all about everything, Jeanne, I sup- pose you know about that.' He spoke rather, just a very little, grumpily, but Jeanne, rather to his anrprise, did not laugh at him this time. Instead, she looked up in his face earnestly, with a strange deep look in her eyes. I think very often we have to find our way in the dark, she said dreamily. '1 think I remember about that. But,' she went on, with a complete change of voice, her eyes dancing merrily, as if they had never looked grave in their life, 'it's not dark now, Cheri, and it's going to be ever so bright. Just look at the lovely moon through the trees. Do let us go now. Gee-up, gee-up, crack your whip, Houpet, and make them gallop as fast as you can.'"

And here, again, we would recommend Mrs. Molesworth to leave out the following upsetting conversation between Hugh and Jeanne, on the day following the night of their fairy-adventures :

"' Well, Cheri,' she said, merrily, 'you are rather late this morn- ing. Have you slept well?' Hugh looked at her; there was no mischief in her face ; she simply meant what she said. In his astonishment, Hugh rubbed his eyes and then stared at her again. 'Jeanne,' he said, quite bewildered.—' Well, Cheri,' she repeated, what is the matter ? How funny you look !' and in her turn Jeanne seemed surprised. Hugh looked round ; old Mareolline had left the room. Jeanne,' he said, 'it is so queer to see you just the same as

usual, with nothing to say about it About all what?' said Joanne, seemingly more and more puzzled.—' About eur adventures— the drive in the carriage, with Houpot as coachman, and the stair clown to the frog's country, and the frogs and the boat, and the con- cert, and 0 Jeanne ! the song of the swan.' Jeanne opened wide her eyes. Cheri !' she said, you've been dreaming all these funny things.' Hugh was so hurt and disappointed that he nearly began to cry- '0 Jeanne,' he said, 'it is very unkind to say that,' and he turned away quite chilled and perplexed. Jeanne ran after him, and threw her arms round his neck. 'Cheri, Cheri,' she said, I didn't moan to vex you, but I don't understand.' Hugh looked into her dark eyes with his earnest blue ones. Jeanne,' he said, don't you remember any of it—don't you remember the trees changing their colours So prettily P—don't you remember the frog's banquet ?'

Jeanne stared at him so earnestly that she quite frowned. think, —I think,' he said, and then she stopped. 'When you say that of the trees, I think I did see rainbow colours all turning into each other. I think, Cheri, part of me was there, and part not; can there be two of me, I wonder But please, Cheri, don't ask me any more. It puzzles me so, and then, perhaps, I may say something to vox yon. Lot us play at our day-games now, Cheri, and never mind about the other things. But if you go anywhere else like that, ask the fairies to take me, too, for I always like to be with yon, you know, Cheri.'" We are well aware that Mrs. Molesworth might plead that there are indications also in the direction of the genuine- ness of these marvels. And that may be so, but the ob- vious intention is to leave the mind in a state of mystifi- cation as to the reality of the wonders, and that is just what, in the name of all- children, we solemnly protest against. Nothing can be more striking than Mrs. Molesworth's power of dealing with such subjects in any way alie chooses. Jeanne and Hugh, and Dudu the raven, and Houpet the cock, and Nibble the guinea-pig, are all fine characters. But we want to be aasured of what really happened to them, not of what may have happened to them, or may have been dreamt about them,—whichever you like to decide for yourself. There should be no choosing for oneself as to the true interpretation of event& of this magnitude. Let us have no compromise on a question of life and death.

Walter Crane's illustrations are, as a matter of course, very graceful, but he has not carefully read his text before illus- trating it. In the little "procession," opposite page 75, Nibble and Griguon, the guinea-pig and the tortoise, should be going- before the children, not after them ; and in the frontispiece, the Princess should not be resting her hand on the bull's neck, as it is expressly stated she had no need to hold on, his pace being so gentle and even,—and the mistake is the worse, because it makes the game which she is playing with her golden balls simply impossible, no princess being able to keep three balls going with one hand during a ride on bull-back.