The Maccabaean

“WHAT are you reading, Joey?”“None of your business, goaway!”

Joey lay on his stomach on Wunder's lawn, his head on his hands, his elbows dug deep into the grass, reading a book .....

—Do you remember the first book you ever read? Not the first Mother Goose book or “The Three Little Bears” (some good lady had introduced “The Three Little Bears” to children of the fifth grade, when Joey was already reading Cooper’s Sea Tales), or anything which was kindly placed before you by a librarian or a teacher or a more advanced friend,—but the first book of your own choice, discovered by yourself? Do you remember that book?

.....Your first book is like the first glimpse of the violets; it is your entrance into the enchanted world unguided; it is the escape from the realities of life which are already oppressing you. You return to it later and find its echo in your sweet-lections the praise of your first teacher, who stood upon the threshold of that unknown world before which you trembled when you entered. You may pick it up now (where you have a copy of that book? Libraries have shelved it, and children now read other books.) I say, you pick it up now, if you are fortunate, and read the old-fashioned page and wonder what you thrill with its simple aroma of days gone by, so you will not

be able to tell even her whom you love what made the story so entrancing.....

When Aleck started, as it were, to read books, some evil genius stranded him on a Rollo book. In after life he could think of no one more contemptible than wretched little Rollo. Rollo was one of those quiet little boys, always cleanly dressed and obedient, oozing goodness every move ice made. Aleck wondered what would have become of him if the only book he ever knew had been a Rollo book. At that time he thought it a shame that a good librarian should pass such a “bum’” book to him, just as he was “starting.” “Doesn’t he know better than to give a feller a book about boys who are afraid to move ’cause their clos’ might get dirty?”

Had you been the librarian and seen Aleck when he applied for a book, you would never have dreamed of giving him a Rollo book. He had not forgotten to remove his hat—strange to say—and his hair looked as if it had never known a comb. A package bulged out of his blouse, and there were patches on his pants and stockings. His little toes stuck out of his shoes, for his feet were preparing to get along without them. To such a lad, the sleepy old gentleman who acted as librarian, gave the aforesaid Rollo book. Aleck fingered the frontispiece, looked at the end, hazarded a glance at the middle pages here and there, and threw it up in despair.

Conclusion, a “bum book.”

Aleck boasted that he was not going to read books anyway. They were not in