After so many pages devoted to the subject, it might seem as if the mass of material should have revealed very clearly what is the ideal illustration for children. But "children" is a collective term, ranging from the tastes of the baby to the precocious youngsters who dip into Mudie books on the sly, and hold conversations thereon which astonish their elders when by chance they get wind of the fact. Perhaps the belief that children can be educated by the eye is more plausible than well supported. In any case, it is good that the illustration should be well drawn, well coloured; given that, whether it be realistically imitative or wholly fantastic is quite a secondary matter. As we have had pointed out to us, the child is not best pleased by mere portraits of himself; he prefers idealised children, whether naughtier and more adventurous, or absolute heroes of romance. And here a strange fact appears, that as a rule what pleases the boy pleases the girl also; but that boys look down with scorn on "girls' books." Any one who has had to do with children knows how eagerly little sisters pounce upon books owned by their brothers. Now, as a rule, books for girls are confined to stories of good girls, pictures of good girls, and mildly exciting domestic incidents, comic or tragic. The child may be half angel; he is undoubtedly half savage; a Pagan indifference to other people's pain, and grim joy in other people's accidents, bear witness to that fact. Tender-hearted parents fear lest some pictures should terrify the little ones; the few that do are those which the child himself discovers in some extraordinary way to be fetishes. He hates them, yet is fascinated by them. I remember myself being so appalled by a picture that is still keenly remembered. It fascinated me, and yet was a thing of which the mere memory made one shudder in the dark--the said picture representing a benevolent negro with Eva on his lap, from "Uncle Tom's Cabin," a blameless Sunday-school inspired story. The horrors of an early folio of Foxe's "Martyrs," of a grisly "Bunyan," with terrific pictures of Apollyon; even a still more grim series by H. C. Selous, issued by the Art Union, if memory may be trusted, were merely exciting; it was the mild and amiable representation of "Uncle Tom" that I felt to be the very incarnation of all things evil. This personal incident is quoted only to show how impossible it is for the average adult to foretell what will frighten or what will delight a child. For children are singularly reticent concerning the "bogeys" of their own creating, yet, like many fanatics, it is these which they really most fear.