Myths That Every Child Should Know A Selection Of The Classic Myths Of All Times For Young People — A Reader’s Guide

The Editor's Archaeological Frame

Mabie's introduction does not begin with a definition of myth or a list of gods. Instead, it describes the discovery of arrow heads in American soil, noting that 'their presence in the ground is the best kind of evidence that Indians once lived on these fields.' This analogy positions myths as material traces of human experience, requiring careful excavation and interpretation. The editor emphasizes that myths are not mere fancies but 'the best kind of evidence' of how people understood their world. For a first-time reader, this framing sets expectations: the stories that follow are not just entertainment but keys to ancient minds. The introduction also acknowledges the collection's debt to earlier retellers—Hawthorne, Kingsley, and others—making visible the chain of transmission. A reader encountering 'The Three Golden Apples' or 'The Chimæra' will recognize that these are filtered through a nineteenth-century literary lens, not direct transcriptions of ancient texts.

Hawthorne's Domesticated Marvels

The excerpts from Hawthorne's 'Wonder Book' and 'Tanglewood Tales' reveal a distinctive voice: conversational, gently moralizing, and rooted in domestic detail. In 'The Miraculous Pitcher,' the story opens not with gods or heroes but with old Philemon and Baucis enjoying a sunset, their 'frugal supper' finished, talking of their garden and cow. The supernatural enters only after a long, patient description of ordinary life. Hawthorne's narrator addresses the reader directly ('These old folks, you must know, were quite poor'), creating intimacy and guiding interpretation. The moral is woven into the texture: the couple's kindness to strangers is contrasted with the village's cruelty, and the miraculous reward feels earned. For a first reader, these stories teach that myth can be found in humble settings, and that virtue is rewarded not by grand adventures but by quiet hospitality. The language is ornate but accessible, with sentences that unwind slowly, inviting the reader to linger on details like the 'grapevine, which clambered over the cottage wall.'

Norse Myths: A Shift in Tone

Later excerpts, drawn from 'In the Days of Giants' and 'Norse Stories,' mark a distinct shift in atmosphere. The Norse myths are brisker, more stark, and less sentimental than Hawthorne's retellings. In 'The Giant Builder' and 'How Odin Lost His Eye,' the prose is leaner, the conflicts more direct, and the gods more fallible. Odin sacrifices an eye for wisdom; the giant builder demands the sun and moon as payment. There is no cozy cottage or moralizing narrator; instead, the stories move with the urgency of oral tradition. This contrast is instructive for a first reader: the collection deliberately juxtaposes Greek and Norse traditions, highlighting different cultural values. The Greek myths, as filtered through Hawthorne, emphasize human-scale virtues and domestic harmony. The Norse myths, by contrast, foreground sacrifice, cunning, and a world where even gods must bargain and bleed. The editor's selection thus becomes a comparative exercise, inviting readers to notice how different cultures imagine the divine and the heroic.

The Collection as a Curated Journey

The table of contents reveals a deliberate arc: it begins with Hawthorne's Greek myths, moves to Church's Homeric tales and Kingsley's 'Greek Heroes,' then shifts to Norse stories, and concludes with a single Native American myth, 'The Star and the Lily.' This progression moves from the familiar (for a young American reader in 1906) to the less familiar, and from literary retellings to more direct adaptations. The inclusion of a Native American myth at the end echoes the introduction's arrow-head metaphor, suggesting that indigenous stories are also 'classic myths' deserving of attention. For a first reader, the collection offers a guided tour of mythological landscapes, but the guide changes along the way. The editor's hand is light: he does not explain why these particular stories were chosen or how they relate to each other. Instead, the juxtaposition itself becomes the lesson. A reader who notices the tonal shift from Hawthorne's cozy morality to the starkness of Norse tales is already doing the interpretive work Mabie's introduction calls for.

Reading this collection from start to finish reveals an implicit curriculum: myths are not static texts but living stories that change with each reteller. The editor's introduction invites readers to see myths as evidence, like arrow heads, of how people thought. The stories themselves, drawn from different sources and styles, demonstrate that evidence takes many forms. A first reader might profit from noting how each storyteller shapes the material—Hawthorne with his gentle irony, Kingsley with his heroic vigor, the Norse adapters with their stark economy. The final Native American tale, placed without comment, challenges the reader to apply the same archaeological curiosity to a tradition closer to home.

The rain kept time with Hawthorne’s measured prose, those old Greek shapes softened into something almost domestic. Later, I found myself thinking about how every culture gives its thunder a name. That afternoon drifted, almost without my noticing, toward the faraway fireside of Outa Karel's Stories: South African Folk-Lore Tales — Reading Companion, where the same patient voice—older, wiser, gentler—waited to tell its own quiet truths.