Animal folk-lore.
Animal folk tales as exemplified in Joel Chandler Harris's stories, "Little Mr. Thimble-finger," "Mr. Rabbit at home," "Daddy Jake," "Uncle Remus," "Story of Aaron," etc., are excellent. Brer Fox and Brer Rabbit, the black stallion and all the animal characters are quite as much realities to the children as Buster John, Sweetest Susan and the Little Master.
Ortoli's "Evening tales," follows the same general line.
Kipling, too, in the "Jungle books" has won the hearts of the children, and here there is no hint of the "garlic flavor," mentioned by Higginson.
Fraser's "Mooswa" also belongs to this class.
A common practice in modern fairy stories is for the author to open the tale in this way: A child falls asleep and enters fairyland via the dream country. Often the child has been sent to bed for some misdemeanor, as in the "Dream fox story book," by Mabel Osgood Wright, or has fallen asleep over his tasks, as in the case of the "One-eyed griffin," by Herbert E. Inman, the fairy tales being offered by way of consolation; a reprehensible practice in itself, besides putting one out of touch with the real fairyland. It is too conspicuously "make believe" and leads one to suspect that the author has little confidence in his own production. As "good wine needs no bush," so a good fairy tale needs no introduction or apology. In the real fairyland one cannot easily be ungraceful.
Nature fairy tales.
Nature fairy tales are more than apt to be failures, and often include a great deal of pertness and cheap talk, in their effort to teach by stealth. (Charles Lamb writes to Coleridge in regard to Goody Two Shoes in this way: "Think what you would have been now, if, instead of being fed with tales and old wives' fables, you had been crammed with geography and natural history.")
A conspicuous example of the faults of this class of story is found in "Sylvia in flowerland," by Linda Gardner. The heroine is introduced as a high-school girl, well-advanced in Latin and mathematics, and amply able to supplement very largely the information which the flowers give her about themselves. Linda strolls into the fields and is told all sorts of facts about the habits of plants by the flowers. The story where the author forgets to interject puns is interestingly told, certainly enough so to attract a girl of fourteen, who has any fondness for flowers. Besides the numerous puns, such glaring sentences as the following, condemn it. "I don't know who you mean." "Why it is a nasty nettle"! said Sylvia. "Nasty, yourself," ejaculated the nettle sharply, "why do you come shoving against me?"
McCook's "Old farm fairies," gives what Mrs. Malaprop calls "a supercilious knowledge" in its attempt to interest children in insect life, by introducing different insects in the form of pixies, brownies and fairies. While it has not the faults of "Sylvia in flowerland," the information is mainly crowded into footnotes and appendices, which as a rule are carefully avoided by children.