Books.--Two books that left impressions on
Jack.--Must a Christian boy be miserable?--Jack
says "No."--So says Jack's mother.--Father gives
his opinion.--"The Enchanted Rocks;" a fairy
story.
I WONDER if any of my readers ever think what the books they read are
doing for them, especially the books they are most fond of? Do you know
every book you read makes _you_ a little bit different? By _you_, I mean
the unseen part of you, your mind and character.
I remember, when I was somewhere about the mischievous age of eight or
nine, how fond I used to be of getting to the putty round a newly-put-in
window pane. It was lovely to press my thimble on it, and see all the
pretty little holes it left; or to push a naughty finger deep down into
the nice soft stuff. Then, when the putty had dried hard, I used to
look with great interest on my work, for every impression was there, and
could not now be removed.
So it is with books, they make an _impression_ on you; and you are
either a little bit better or a little bit worse for every book you
read. _Take care only to read those books that will make you better._
The summer after Jack decided to be a minister, he read two books which
made some big impressions on his mind, and left him _better_ than he was
before reading them. One was called "The Imitation of Christ," and the
other "Holy Living and Dying." They taught him that true religion must
be in the heart, and that it is not enough for our words and actions, as
seen and heard by men, to be right, but our very thoughts must be pure
and good, such as would be approved of God. He did not at all agree with
Thomas a Kempis, the writer of the first book I mentioned, in
everything, though, for he made out, according to Jack's idea, that we
should always be miserable.
I think Jack would never have persevered in his determination to follow
Christ, if he had been convinced that "to be good you must be
miserable," for he loved fun, and could not help being happy. He felt
sure Thomas a Kempis was mistaken, especially when he remembered that
verse in the Bible which says religion's ways "are ways of
_pleasantness_" (Prov. iii. 17). When he wrote home, he asked his
mother what she thought, for although he was now a young man of
twenty-two, he was still the old Jack that thought father and mother
knew better than anybody else.
His mother wrote back that she thought Thomas a Kempis _was_ mistaken,
for so many texts in the Bible show us that God intends us to be happy
and full of joy. "And," she said, "if you want to know what pleasures
are right and wrong, ask yourself: 'Will it make me love God more, and
will it help me to be more like my great example, Jesus Christ?'"
Jack's father wrote: "I don't altogether agree with Thomas a Kempis; but
the world is like a siren, and we must beware of her. If the young man
would rejoice in his youth, let him take care that his pleasures are
innocent; and in order to do this, remember, my son, that for all these
things God will bring us into judgment."
Some of my readers will hardly understand what Mr. Wesley meant when he
said the world is "like a siren." Most of you have read fairy tales;
well, a kind of Greek fairy story tells of some beautiful maidens,
called sirens, who used to sit on some dangerous rocks, and play
sweetest music. When sailors saw them and heard their singing, they were
drawn by magic nearer and nearer to where they were, until at last their
boats struck on the rocks, and the poor deluded sailors were dragged by
the sirens to the bottom of the sea and were drowned.
Now, do you see why the world is like a siren? Its pleasures all look so
beautiful that we are tempted to draw nearer and nearer, until at last
we are lost to all that is holy and good.
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