The fact that literature for children is likely to have a strong interest for adults is strikingly suggested in a few sentences in John Macy's _A Child's Guide to Reading_:
When "juveniles" are really good, parents read them after children have gone to bed. I do not know whether _Tom Brown at Rugby_ is catalogued by the careful librarian as a book for boys, but I am sure it is a book for men. I dare say that a good many pairs of eyes that have passed over the pages of Mr. John T. Trowbridge and Elijah Kellogg and Louisa M. Alcott have been old enough to wear spectacles. And if Mrs. Kate Douglas Wiggin ever thought that in _Timothy's Quest_ and _Rebecca_ she was writing books especially for the young, adult readers have long since claimed her for their own. I have enjoyed Mr. A. S. Pier's tales of the boys at St. Timothy's, though he planned them for younger readers. We are told on good authority that _St. Nicholas_ and _The Youth's Companion_ appear in households where there are no children, and they give a considerable portion of their space to serial stories written for young people. Between good "juveniles" and good books for grown persons there is not much essential difference.
_Reading and literature distinguished._ A country school-teacher once abruptly stopped the routine of daily work and, standing beside her desk, told the story of the maid who counted her chickens before they were hatched. One of her pupils, who is now a man, remembers vividly how the incident impressed him. Although he was in the second grade, that was the first time he had known a teacher to stop regular school work to tell a story. Immediately the teacher was transformed. She had been merely a teacher, one of those respected, awe-inspiring creatures whose business it is to make the school mill go; but the magic of her story established the relation of friendship between teacher and pupil. She was no longer merely a teacher. If the story had been read as a part of the reading lesson, it would not have impressed the pupil greatly. It was impressive because it was presented as literature.
A clear distinction should be made between reading and literature, especially in the primary grades. In the work of the reading course the pupil should take the lead, being guided by the teacher. If the pupil is to progress, he must master the mechanics of reading--he must learn to pronounce printed words and to get the meaning of printed sentences and paragraphs. The course in reading requires patient work on the part of the pupil, just as the course in arithmetic does, and the chief pleasure that the primary pupil can derive from the work is a consciousness of enlarged power and of success in accomplishing what is undertaken.