ain in a moment with two dime novels and a story-paper of
the same stamp.

The captain had finished his toilet. Seating himself he took what Max had
brought, and glancing hastily over it, "How much of this trash have you
read, Max?" he asked.

"The paper and most of one book, papa. I'll not read any more such, since
you've forbidden me; but they're very interesting, papa."

"I dare say, to a boy of your age. But you don't think I would want to
deprive you of any innocent pleasure, Max?"

"No, sir; oh, no! But may I know why you won't let me read such stories?"

"Yes; it is because they give false views of life, and thus lead to wrong
and foolish actions. Why, Max, some boys have been made burglars and
highwaymen by such stories. I want you to be a reader, but of good and
wholesome literature; books that will give you useful information and good
moral teachings; above all things, my son, I would have you a student of
the Bible, 'the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise unto
salvation through faith which is in Jesus Christ.' Do you read it often,
Max?"

"Not very, papa. But you know I hear you read it every morning and
evening."

"Yes; but I have sometimes been grieved to see that you paid very little
attention."

Max colored at that. "Papa, I will try to do better," he said.

"I hope you will," said his father. "You will enjoy the same religious
advantages at Ion, and, my boy, try to profit by them, remembering that we
shall have to render an account at last of the use or abuse of all our
privileges. I want you to promise me that you will read a few verses of
the Bible every day, and commit at least one to memory."

"I will, papa. And what else shall I read? You will let me have some
story-books, won't you?" Max said, entreatingly.

"Yes," said his father, "I have no objection to stories of the right sort.
There are some very beautiful stories in the Bible; there are entertaining
stories in history; and there are fictitious stories that will do you good
and not harm. I shall take care in future that you have plenty of
wholesome mental food, so that you will have no excuse for craving such
stuff as this," he added, with a glance of disgust at what he held in his
hand. "It may go into the kitchen fire."

"Mrs. Scrimp never burns the least little bit of paper, papa," said Max.

"Indeed! Why not?" asked his father, with an amused smile.

"She says it is wicked waste, because it is better than rags