Although this small book lives only by record, it is safe to assume from the extracts of the author’s diary already quoted, that it lacked every quality of amusement, and was adapted only to those whom he described, in a sermon preached before the Governor and Council, as “verie Sharpe and early Ripe in their capacities.” “Good Lessons” has the distinction of being the first American book to be composed, like many a modern publication, for a particular young child; and, with its purpose “to improve in goodness,” struck clearly the keynote of the greater part of all writing for children during the succeeding one hundred and seventy-five years.

The first glimpse of the amusement book proper appears in that unique “History of Printing in America,” by Isaiah Thomas. This describes, among other old printers, one Thomas Fleet, who established himself in Boston about 1713. “At first,” wrote Mr. Thomas, “he printed pamphlets for booksellers, small books for children and ballads” in Pudding Lane.19-* “He owned several negroes, one of which ... was an ingenious man and cut on wooden blocks all the pictures which decorated the ballads and small books for his master.”19-† As corroborative of these statements Thomas also mentions Thomas Fleet, Sr., as “the putative compiler of Mother Goose Melodies, which he first published in 1719, bearing the title of ‘Songs for the Nursery.’”

Much discussion has arisen as to the earliest edition of Mother Goose. Thomas’s suggestion as to the origin of the first American edition has been of late years relegated to the region of myth. Nevertheless, there is something to be said in favor of the existence of some book of nonsense at that time. The Boston “News Letter” for April 12-19, 1739, contained a criticism of Tate and Brady’s version of the Psalms, in which the reviewer wrote that in Psalm VI the translators used the phrase, “a wretch forlorn.” He added: “(1) There is nothing of this in the original or the English Psalter. (2) ’Tis a low expression and to add a low one is the less allowable. But (3) what I am most concerned for is, that it will be apt to make our Children think of the line in their vulgar Play song; much like it, ‘This is the maiden all forlorn.’” We recognize at once a reference to our nursery friend of the “House that Jack Built;” and if this and “Tom Thumb” were sold in Boston, why should not other ditties have been among the chap-books which Thomas remembered to have set up when a ’prentice lad in the printing-house of Zechariah Fowle, who in turn had copied some issued previously by Thomas Fleet? In further confirmation of Thomas’s statement is a paragraph in the preface to an edition of Mother Goose, published in Boston in 1833, by Monroe & Francis. The editor traces the origin of these rhymes to a London book entitled, “Rhymes for the Nursery or Lullabies for Children,” “that,” he writes, “contained many of the identical pieces handed down to us.” He continues: “The first book of the kind known to be printed in this country bears [the italics are mine] the title, ‘Songs for the Nursery: or Mother Goose’s Melodies for Children.’ Something probably intended to represent a goose, with a very long neck and mouth wide open, covered a large part of the title-page; at the bottom of which was: ‘Printed by T. Fleet, at his printing house, Pudding Lane (Boston) 1719.’ Several pages were missing, so that the whole number could not be ascertained.” The editor clearly writes as if he had either seen, or heard accurately described, this piece of Americana, which the bibliophile to-day would consider a treasure trove. Later writers doubt whether any such book existed, for it is hardly credible that the Puritan element which so largely composed the population of Boston in the first quarter of the eighteenth century would have encouraged the printing of any nonsensical jingles.

Boston, however, was not at this time the only place in the colonies where primers and religious books were written and printed. In Philadelphia, Andrew Bradford, famous as the founder of the “American Weekly Mercury,” had in 1714 put through his press, probably upon subscription, the “Last Words and Dyeing Expressions of Hannah Hill, aged 11 years and near three Months.” This morbid account of the death of a little Quakeress furnished the Philadelphia children with a book very similar to Mather’s “Token.” Not to be outdone by any precocious example in Pennsylvania, the Reverend Mr. Mather soon found an instance of “Early Piety in Elizabeth Butcher of Boston, being just 8 years and 11 months old,” when she died in 1718. In two years two editions of her life had been issued “to instruct and to invite little children to the exercise of early piety.”

Such mortuary effusions were so common at the time that Benjamin Franklin’s witty skit upon them is apropos in this connection. In 1719, at the age of sixteen, under the pseudonym of Mrs. Dogood, he wrote a series of letters for his brother’s paper, “The New England Courant.” From the following extract, taken from these letters, it is evident that these children’s “Last Words” followed the prevailing fashion:

Of other original books for children of colonial parents in the first quarter of that century, “A Looking-glass” did but mirror more religious episodes concerning infants, while Mather in his zeal had also published “An Earnest Exhortation” to New England children, and “The A, B, C, of religion. Fitted unto the youngest and lowest capacities.” To this, taking advantage of the use of rhymes, he appended further instruction, including “The Body of Divinity versified.” With our knowledge of the clergyman’s methods with his congregation it is not difficult to imagine that he insisted upon the purchase of these godly aids for every household.

In attempting to reproduce the conditions of family life in the early settlements and towns of colonial days, we turn quite naturally to the newspapers, whose appearance in the first quarter of the eighteenth century was gladly welcomed by the people of their time, and whose files are now eagerly searched for items of great or small importance. Indeed, much information can be gathered from their advertisements, which often filled the major part of these periodicals. Apparently shop-keepers were keen to take advantage of such space as was reserved for them, as sometimes a marginal note informed the public that other advertisements must wait for the next issue to appear.

Booksellers’ announcements, however, are not too frequent in Boston papers, and are noticeably lacking in the early issues of the Philadelphia “Weekly Mercury.” This dearth of book-news accounts for the difficulty experienced by book-lovers of that town in procuring literature—a lack noticed at once by the wide-awake young Franklin upon his arrival in the city, and recorded in his biography as follows:

“At the time I established myself in Pennsylvania [1728] there was not a bookseller’s shop in any of the colonies to the southward of Boston. In New York and Phil’a the printers were indeed stationers; they sold only paper, etc., ballads, and a few books. Those who lov’d reading were obliged to send for their books from London.”

Franklin undertook to better this condition by opening a shop for the sale of foreign books. Both he and his rival in journalism, Andrew Bradford, had stationer’s shops, in which were to be had besides “Good Writing Paper; Cyphering Slates; Ink Powders, etc., Chapmens Books and Ballads.” Bradford also advertised in seventeen hundred and thirty that all persons could be supplied with “Primers and small Histories of many sorts.” “Small histories” were probably chap-books, which, hawked about the country by peddlers or chapmen, contained tales of “Fair Rosamond,” “Jane Grey,” “Tom Thumb” or “Tom Hick-a-Thrift,” and though read by old and young, were hardly more suitable for juvenile reading than the religious elegies then so popular. These chap-books were sold in considerable quantities on account of their cheapness, and included religious subjects as well as tales of adventure.

One of the earliest examples of this chap-book literature, thought suitable for children, was printed in the colonies by the press of Thomas Fleet, already mentioned as a printer of small books. This book of 1736, being intended for ready sale, was such as every Puritan would buy for the family library. Entitled “The Prodigal Daughter,” it told in Psalm-book metre of a “proud, vain girl, who, because her parents would not indulge her in all her extravagances, bargained with the devil to poisen them.” The parents, however, were warned by an angel of her intentions:

The daughter, discovered in her attempt to poison their food, was reproached by the mother for her evil intention and swooned. Every effort failed to “bring her spirits to revive:”

The Puritan pride in funeral display is naïvely exhibited in the portrayal of the girl when she “in her coffin sat, and did admire her winding sheet,” before she related her experiences “among lonesome wild deserts and briary woods, which dismal were and dark.” But immediately after her description of the lake of burning misery and of the fierce grim Tempter, the Puritan matter-of-fact acceptance of it all is suggested by the concluding lines:

The illustrations of a later edition entered thoroughly into the spirit of the author’s intent. The contemporary opinion of the French character is quaintly shown in the portrait of the Devil dressed as a French gentleman, his cloven foot discovering his identity. Whatever deficiencies are revealed in these early attempts to illustrate, they invariably expressed the artist’s purpose, and in this case the Devil, after the girl’s conversion, is drawn in lines very acceptable to Puritan children’s idea of his personality.

Almanacs also were in demand, and furnished parents and children, in many cases, with their entire library for week-day reading. “Successive numbers hung from a string by the chimney or ranked by years and generations on cupboard shelves.”26-* But when Franklin made “Poor Richard” an international success, he, by giving short extracts from Swift, Steele, Defoe, and Bacon, accustomed the provincial population, old and young, to something better than the meagre religious fare provided by the colonial press.

Such, then, were the literary conditions for children when an advertisement inserted in the “Weekly Mercury” gave promise of better days for the little Philadelphians.26-† Strangely enough, this attempt to make learning seem attractive to children did not appear in the booksellers’ lists; but crowded in between Tandums, Holland Tapes, London Steel, and good Muscavado Sugar,—“Guilt horn books” were advertised by Joseph Sims in 1740 as “for sale on reasonable Terms for Cash.”

Horn-books in themselves were only too common, and not in the least delightful. Made of thin wood, whereon was placed a printed sheet of paper containing the alphabet and Lord’s Prayer, a horn-book was hardly, properly speaking, a book at all. But when the printed page was covered with yellowish transparent horn, secured to the wooden back by strips of brass, it furnished an economical and practically indestructible elementary text-book for thousands of English-speaking children on both sides of the Atlantic. Sometimes an effort was also made to guard against the inconvenient faculty of children for losing school-books, by attaching a cord, which, passing through a hole in the handle of the board, was hung around the scholar’s neck. But since nothing is proof against the ingenuity of a schoolboy, many were successfully disposed of. Although printed by thousands, few in England or in America have survived the century that has elapsed since they were used. Occasionally, in tearing down an old building, one of these horn-books has been found; dropped in a convenient hole, it has remained secure from parents’ sight, until brought to light by workmen and prized as a curiosity by grown people of the present generation. This notice of little gilt horn-books was inserted in the “Weekly Mercury” but once. Whether the supply was quickly exhausted, or whether they did not prove a successful novelty, can never be known; but at least they herald the approach of the little gilt story-books which ten years later were to make the name of John Newbery well known in English households, and hardly less familiar in the American colonies.

So far the only attractions to induce children to read have been through the pictures in the Primer of New England, and by the gilding of the horn-book. From further south comes the first note of amusement in reading, as well as the first expression of pleasure from the children themselves in regard to a book. In 1741, in Virginia, two letters were written and received by R. H. Lee and George Washington. These letters, which afford the first in any way authentic account of tales of real entertainment, are given by Mr. Lossing in “The Home of Washington,” and tell their own tale:

In a note Mr. Lossing states that he had copies of these two letters, sent him by a Mr. Lee, who wrote: “The letter of Richard Henry Lee was written by himself, and uncorrected sent by him to his boy friend George Washington. The poetical effusion was, I have heard, written by a Mr. Howard, a gentleman who used to visit at the house of Mr. Washington.”

It would be gratifying to know the titles of these two books, so evidently English chap-book tales. It is probable that they were imported by a shop-keeper in Alexandria, as in seventeen hundred and forty-one there was only one press in Virginia, owned by William Sharps, who had moved from Annapolis in seventeen hundred and thirty-six. Luxuries were so much more common among the Virginia planters, and life was so much more roseate in hue than was the case in the northern colonies, that it seems most natural that two southern boys should have left the earliest account of any real story-books. Though unfortunately nameless, they at least form an interesting coincidence. Bought in seventeen hundred and forty-one, they follow just one hundred years later than the meeting of the General Court, which was responsible for the preparation of Cotton’s “Milk for Babes,” and precede by a century the date when an American story-book literature was recognized as very different from that written for English children.

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER II

1747-1767

The Play-Book in England

The vast horde of story-books so constantly poured into modern nurseries makes it difficult to realize that the library of the early colonial child consisted of such books as have been already described. The juvenile books to-day are multiform. The quantities displayed upon shop-counters or ranged upon play-room shelves include a variety of subjects bewildering to all but those whose business necessitates a knowledge of this kind of literature. For the little child there is no lack of gayly colored pictures and short tales in large print; for the older boys and girls there lies a generous choice, ranging from Bunny stories to Jungle Books, or they

The contrast is indeed extreme between that scanty fare of dull sermons and “The New England Primer” given to the little people of the early eighteenth century, and this superabundance prepared with lavish care for the nation of American children.

The beginning of this complex juvenile literature is, therefore, to be regarded as a comparatively modern invention of about seventeen hundred and forty-five. From that date can be traced the slow growth of a literature written with an avowed intention of furnishing amusement as well as instruction; and in the toy-books published one hundred and fifty years ago are found the prototypes of the present modes of bringing fun and knowledge to the American fireside.

The question at once arises as to the reason why this literature came into existence; why was it that children after seventeen hundred and fifty should have been favored in a way unknown to their parents?

To even the casual reader of English literature the answer is plain, if this subject of toy-books be regarded as of near kin to the larger body of writing. It has been somewhat the custom to consider children’s literature as a thing wholly apart from that of adults, probably because the majority of the authors of these little tales have so generally lacked the qualities indispensable for any true literary work. In reality the connection between the two is somewhat like that of parent and child; the smaller body, though lacking in power, has closely imitated the larger mass of writing in form and kind, and has reflected, sometimes clearly, sometimes dimly, the good or bad fashions that have shared the successive periods of literary history, like a child who unconsciously reproduces a parent’s foibles or excellences.

It is to England, then, that we must look to find the conditions out of which grew the necessity for this modern invention—the story-book.

The love of stories has been the splendid birthright of every child in all ages and in all lands. “Stories,” wrote Thackeray,—“stories exist everywhere; there is no calculating the distance through which the stories have come to us, the number of languages through which they have been filtered, or the centuries during which they have been told. Many of them have been narrated almost in their present shape for thousands of years to the little copper-coloured Sanscrit children, listening to their mothers under the palm-trees by the banks of the yellow Jumna—their Brahmin mother, who softly narrated them through the ring in her nose. The very same tale has been heard by the Northern Vikings as they lay on their shields on deck; and the Arabs couched under the stars on the Syrian plains when their flocks were gathered in, and their mares were picketed by the tents.” This picturesque description leads exactly to the point to be emphasized: that children shared in the simple tales of their people as long as those tales retained their freshness and simplicity; but when, as in England in the eighteenth century, the literature lost these qualities and became artificial, critical, and even skeptical, it lost its charm for the little ones and they no longer cared to listen to it.

Fashion and taste were then alike absorbed in the works of Dryden, Pope, Addison, Steele, and Swift, and the novels from the pens of Richardson, Fielding, and Smollett had begun to claim and to hold the attention of the English reading public. The children, however, could neither comprehend nor enjoy the witty criticism and subtle treatment of the topics discussed by the older men, although, as will be seen in another chapter, the novels became, in both the original and in the abridged forms, the delight of many a “young master and miss.” Meanwhile, in the American colonies the people who could afford to buy books inherited their taste for literature as well as for tea from the Puritans and fashionables in the mother country; although it is a fact familiar to all, that the works of the comparatively few native authors lagged, in spirit and in style, far behind the writings of Englishmen of the time.

The reading of one who was a boy in the older era of the urbane Addison and the witty Pope, and a man in the newer period of the novelists, is well described in Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography. “All the little money,” wrote that book-lover, “that came into my hands was laid out in books. Pleased with the Pilgrim’s Progress, my collection was of John Bunyan’s works in separate volumes. I afterwards sold them to buy R. Burton’s Historical Collections; they were Chapmen’s books, and cheap, 40 or 50 in all.”

Burton’s “Historical Collections” contained history, travels, adventures, fiction, natural history, and biography. So great was the favor in which they were held in the eighteenth century that the compiler, Nathaniel Crouch, almost lost his identity in his pseudonym, and like the late Mr. Clemens, was better known by his nom-de-plume than by his family name. According to Dunton, he “melted down the best of the English histories into twelve-penny books, which are filled with wonders, rarities and curiosities.” Although characterized by Dr. Johnson as “very proper to allure backward readers,” the contents of many of the various books afforded the knowledge and entertainment eagerly grasped by Franklin and other future makers of the American nation. The scarcity of historical works concerning the colonies made Burton’s account of the “English Empire in America” at once a mine of interest to wide-awake boys of the day. Number VIII, entitled “Winter Evenings’ Entertainment,” was long a source of amusement with its stories and riddles, and its title was handed down to other books of a similar nature. To children, however, the best-known volume of the series was Burton’s illustrated versification of Bible stories called “The Youth’s Divine Pastime.” But the subjects chosen by Burton were such as belonged to a very plain-spoken age; and as the versifier was no euphuist in his relation of facts, the result was a remarkable “Pastime for Youth.” The literature read by English children was, of course, the same; the little ones of both countries ate of the same tree of knowledge of facts, often either silly or revolting.

To deliver the younger and future generations from such unpalatable and indigestible mental food, there was soon to appear in London a man, John Newbery by name, who, already a printer, publisher, and vendor of patent medicines, seized the opportunity to issue stories written especially for the amusement of little children.

While Newbery was making his plans to provide pleasure for young folks in England, in the colonies the idea of a child’s need of recreation through books was slowly gaining ground. It is well to note the manner in which the little colonists were prepared to receive Newbery’s books as recreative features crept gradually into the very few publications of which there is record.

In seventeen hundred and forty-five native talent was still entirely confined to writing for little people lugubrious sermons or discourses delivered on Sunday and “Catechize days,” and afterwards printed for larger circulation. The reprints from English publications were such exotics as, “A Poesie out of Mr. Dod’s Garden,” an alluring title, which did not in the least deceive the small colonials as to the religious nature of its contents.

In New York the Dutch element, until the advent of Garrat Noel, paid so little attention to the subject of juvenile literature that the popularity of Watts’s “Divine Songs” (issued by an Englishman) is well attested by the fact that at present it is one of the very few child’s books of any kind recorded as printed in that city before 1760. But in Boston, old Thomas Fleet, in 1741, saw the value of the element of some entertainment in connection with reading, and, when he published “The Parents’ Gift, containing a choice collection of God’s judgments and Mercies,” lives of the Evangelists, and other religious matter, he added a “variety of pleasant Pictures proper for the Entertainment of Children.” This is, perhaps, the first printed acknowledgment in America that pictures were commendable to parents because entertaining to their offspring. Such an idea put into words upon paper and advertised in so well-read a sheet as the “Boston Evening Post,” must surely have impressed fathers and mothers really solicitous for the family welfare and anxious to provide harmless pleasure. This pictorial element was further encouraged by Franklin, when, in 1747, he reprinted, probably for the first time in this country, “Dilworth’s New Guide to the English Tongue.” In this school-book, after the alphabets and spelling lessons, a special feature was introduced, that is, illustrated “Select Fables.” The cuts at the top of each fable possess an added interest from the supposition that they were engraved by the printer himself; and the constant use of the “Guide” by colonial school-masters and mistresses made their pupils unconsciously quite ready for more illustrated and fewer homiletic volumes.

Indeed, before the middle of the century pictures had become an accepted feature of the few juvenile books, and “The History of the Holy Jesus” versified for little ones was issued by at least two old Boston printers in 1747 and 1748 with more than a dozen cuts. Among the rare extant copies of this small chap-book is one that, although torn and disfigured by tiny fingers and the century and a half since it pleased its first owner, bears the personal touch of this inscription “Ebenezer ... Bought June ... 1749 ... price 0=2=d.” Was the price marked upon its page as a reminder that two shillings was a large price to pay for a boy’s book? Perhaps for this reason it received the careful handling that has enabled us to examine it, when so many of its contemporaries and successors have vanished.

The versified story, notwithstanding its quaintness of diction, begins with a dignified directness:

At the end are two Hymns, entitled “Delight in the Lord Jesus,” and “Absence from Christ intolerable.” The final stanza is typical of one Puritan doctrine:

The woodcuts are not the least interesting feature of this old-time duodecimo, from the picture showing the mother reading to her children to the illustration of the quaking of the earth on the day of the crucifixion. Crude and badly drawn as they now seem, they were surely sufficient to attract the child of their generation.

About the same time old Zechariah Fowle, who apprenticed Isaiah Thomas, and both printed and vended chap-books in Back Street, Boston, advertised among his list of books “Lately Publish’d” this same small book, together with “A Token for Youth,” the “Life and Death of Elizabeth Butcher,” “A Preservative from the Sins and Follies of Childhood and Youth,” “The Prodigal Daughter,” “The Happy Child,” and “The New Gift for Children with Cuts.” Of these “The New Gift” was certainly a real story-book, as one of a later edition still extant readily proves.

Thus the children in both countries were prepared to enjoy Newbery’s miniature story-books, although for somewhat different reasons: in England the literature had reached a point too artificial to be interesting to little ones; in America the product of the press and the character of the majority of the juvenile importations, the reprints, or home-made chap-books, has been shown to be such as would hardly attract those who were to be the future arbiters of the colonies’ destiny.

The reasons for the coming to light of this new form of infant literature have been dwelt upon in order to show the necessity for some change in the kind of reading-matter to be put in the hands of the younger members of the family. The natural order of consideration is next to point out the phase it assumed upon its appearance in England,—a phase largely due to the influence of one man,—and once there, the modifications effected by the fashions in adult fiction.

Although there was already much interest in the education and welfare of children still in the nursery, the character of the first play-books was probably due to the esteem in which the opinions of the philosopher, John Locke, were held. He it was who gradually moved the vane of public opinion around to serious consideration of recreation as a factor in the well-being of these nursery inmates. Although it took time for Locke’s ideas upon the subject to sink into the public mind, it is impossible to compare one of the first attempts to produce a play-book, “The Child’s New Play-thing,” with the advice written to his friend, Edward Clarke, without feeling that the progress from the religious books to primers and readers (such as “Dilworth’s Guide”), and then onward to story-books, was largely the result of the publication of his letters under the title of “Thoughts on Education.”

In these letters Locke took an extraordinary course: he first made a quaint plea for the general welfare of Mr. Clarke’s little son. “I imagine,” he wrote, “the minds of children are as easily turned this or that way as Water itself, and though this be the principal Part, and our main Care should be about the inside, yet the Clay Cottage is not to be neglected. I shall therefore begin with the case, and consider first the Health of the body.” Under Health he discussed clothing, including thin shoes, “that they may leak and let in Water.” A pause was then made to show the benefits of wet feet as against the apparent disadvantages of filthy stockings and muddy boots; for mothers even in that time were inclined to consider their floors and steps. Bathing next received attention. Bathing every day in cold water, Locke regarded as exceedingly desirable; no exceptions were to be made, even in the case of a “puleing and tender” child. The beneficial effects of air, sunlight, the establishment of good conduct, diet, sleep, and “physick” were all discussed by the doctor and philosopher, before the development of the mind was touched upon. “Education,” he wrote, “concerns itself with the forming of Children’s Minds, giving them that seasoning early, which shall influence their Lives later.” This seasoning referred to the training of children in matters pertaining to their general government and to the reverence of parents. For the Puritan population it was undoubtedly a shock to find Locke interesting himself in, and moreover advocating, dancing as a part of a child’s education; and worst of all, that he should mention it before their hobby, Learning. In this connection it is worth while to make mention of a favorite primer, which, published about the middle of the eighteenth century, was entitled “The Hobby Horse.” Locke was quite aware that his method would be criticised, and therefore took the bull by the horns in the following manner. He admitted that to put the subject of learning last was a cause for wonder, “especially if I tell you I think it the least part. This may seem strange in the mouth of a bookish man, and this making usually the chief, if not only bustle and stir about children; this being almost that alone, which is thought on, when People talk about Education, make it the greater Paradox.” An unusual piece of advice it most surely was to parents to whose children came the task of learning to read as soon as they were given spoon-food.

Even more revolutionary to the custom of an eighteenth century mother was the admonition that reading “be never made a Task.” Locke, however, was not the man to urge a cure for a bad habit without prescribing a remedy, so he went on to say that it was always his “Fancy that Learning be made a Play and Recreation to Children”—a “Fancy” at present much in vogue. To accomplish this desirable result, “Dice and Play-things with the Letters on them” were recommended to teach children the alphabet; “and,” he added, “twenty other ways may be found ... to make this kind of Learning a Sport to them.” Letter-blocks were in this way made popular, and formed the approved and advanced method until in these latter days pedagogy has swept aside the letter-blocks and syllabariums and carried the sport to word-pictures.

This theory had a practical result in the introduction to many households of “The Child’s New Play-thing.” This book, already mentioned, was printed in England in seventeen hundred and forty-three, and dedicated to Prince George. In seventeen hundred and forty-four we find through the “Boston Evening Post” of January 23 that the third edition was sold by Joseph Edwards, in Cornhill, and it was probably from this edition that the first American edition was printed in seventeen hundred and fifty. From the following description of this American reprint (one of which is happily in the Lenox Collection), it will be seen that the “Play-thing” was an attempt to follow Locke’s advice, as well as a connecting link between the primer of the past and the story-book of the near future.

The title, which the illustration shows, reads, “The Child’s New Play-thing being a spelling-book intended to make Learning to read a diversion instead of a task. Consisting of Scripture-histories, fables, stories, moral and religious precepts, proverbs, songs, riddles, dialogues, &c. The whole adapted to the capacities of children, and divided into lessons of one, two, three and four syllables. The fourth edition. To which is added three dialogues; 1. Shewing how a little boy shall make every body love him. 2. How a little boy shall grow wiser than the rest of his school-fellows. 3. How a little boy shall become a great man. Designed for the use of schools, or for children before they go to school.”