“Papa,” said Arthur W. one evening, “will you please give me the key to the bookcase in your study?”
“Why, my boy?”
“I want to take out a book.”
“Which book?”
“A book from the top shelf.”
“That is not answering my question.” “A scarlet bound book, Papa; I am not sure of the name. I wish to read it this evening.”
“Who gave you that book, Arthur?”
“‘One of the boys at school. He said there were nice stories in it, and I began to read one of them. Was it you Papa, who locked it up?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you do so?”
“Because I did not wish you to read it. I have not read it myself, but I know the name of the writer well, he is a very bad man, one who writes things that it would be very wrong in me to allow you to read.” Arthur looked very much vexed.
“I am sure, Papa, that was a very nice story which I began last night, and I wish very much to finish it. Will you not give it to me just for this evening? I will pass over all that is wrong.” Mr. W. smiled.
“How will you know what to pass over till you have read it?”
“But, Papa, I am sure just reading it once, quite quickly, would do me no harm.”
“Arthur, why is your mother always so careful to keep the bottle of Laudanum locked up?”
“Because it is poison, of course.”
“So Laudanum is the only poison in the Drug Store?”
“No, Papa, there are many other kinds.”
“Yes, and many kinds which may injure people in various ways. Some will bring on a deadly sleep; others may produce violent pains and convulsions. You may die from swallowing one kind: or allow another to touch an open scratch, and so get into your blood; or by breathing another kind into your lungs. A sensible man will handle them most cautiously. A sensible child will not touch them at all. But there are much more deadly poisons than any kept by the Druggist. Which are of most importance, my son, our soul, or our body?”
“Our soul, of course, Papa.”
“Why?”
“Because it must live forever in heaven or hell.”
“Then, is not the poison which would destroy our souls, to be more dreaded and avoided than that which would merely injure our poor, mortal bodies?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Well, I believe fatal poison is coutained in that scarlet book, which I have locked up from you. The writer of that book is poisoning the souls of his fellow creatures, and all this is done in the most deceiving way—under the form of interesting stories. My dear boy, be more afraid of reading poison than of swallowing it. Never begin with a new author until you have asked father or mother if the work is safe and suitable for you. Pray for the blessing of God upon all your studies to which we direct vou, and above all, Value the Book of Books, own precious Word, “The Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise unto salvation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus.”
ML 08/23/1942