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 à 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 à 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 à 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 à 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.