It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, and four boys were trying to spend it quietly in the “liberry,” as Jamie called the room devoted to books and boys, at Aunt Jessie's. Will and Geordie were sprawling on the sofa, deep in the adventures of the scapegraces and ragamuffins whose histories are now the fashion. Archie lounged in the easy chair, surrounded by newspapers; Charlie stood upon the rug, in an Englishman's favourite attitude, and, I regret to say, both were smoking cigars.

“It is my opinion that this day will never come to an end,” said Prince, with a yawn that nearly rent him asunder.

“Read and improve your mind, my son,” answered Archie, peering solemnly over the paper behind which he had been dozing.

“Don't you preach, parson, but put on your boots and come out for a tramp, instead of mulling over the fire like a granny.”

“No, thank you, tramps in an easterly storm don't strike me as amusing.” There Archie stopped and held up his hand, for a pleasant voice was heard saying outside,

“Are the boys in the library, auntie?”

“Yes, dear, and longing for sunshine; so run in and make it for them,” answered Mrs. Jessie.

“It's Rose,” and Archie threw his cigar into the fire.

“What's that for?” asked Charlie.

“Gentlemen don't smoke before ladies.”

“True; but I'm not going to waste my weed,” and Prince poked his into the empty inkstand that served them for an ash tray.

A gentle tap at the door was answered by a chorus of “Come in,” and Rose appeared, looking blooming and breezy with the chilly air.

“If I disturb you, say so, and I'll go away,” she began, pausing on the threshold with modest hesitation, for something in the elder boys' faces excited her curiosity.

“You never disturb us, cousin,” said the smokers, while the readers tore themselves from the heroes of the bar-room and gutter long enough to nod affably to their guest.

As Rose bent to warm her hands, one end of Archie's cigar stuck out of the ashes, smoking furiously and smelling strongly.

“Oh, you bad boys, how could you do it, to-day of all days?” she said reproachfully.

“Where's the harm?” asked Archie.

“You know as well as I do; your mother doesn't like it, and it's a bad habit, for it wastes money and does you no good.”

“Fiddlesticks! every man smokes, even Uncle Alec, whom you think so perfect,” began Charlie, in his teasing way.

“No, he doesn't! He has given it up, and I know why,” cried Rose eagerly.

“Now I think of it, I haven't seen the old meerschaum since he came home. Did he stop it on our account?” asked Archie.

“Yes,” and Rose told the little scene on the seashore in the camping-out time.

Archie seemed much impressed, and said manfully, “He won't have done that in vain so far as I'm concerned. I don't care a pin about smoking, so can give it up as easy as not, and I promise you I will. I only do it now and then for fun.”

“You too?” and Rose looked up at the bonny Prince, who never looked less bonny than at that moment, for he had resumed his cigar just to torment her.

Now Charlie cared as little as Archie about smoking, but it would not do to yield too soon: so he shook his head, gave a great puff, and said loftily,

“You women are always asking us to give up harmless little things just because you don't approve of them. How would you like it if we did the same by you, miss?”

“If I did harmful or silly things, I'd thank you for telling me of them, and I'd try to mend my ways,” answered Rose heartily.

“Well, now, we'll see if you mean what you say. I'll give up smoking to please you, if you will give up something to please me,” said Prince, seeing a good chance to lord it over the weaker vessel at small cost to himself.

“I'll agree if it is as foolish as cigars.”

“Oh, it's ever so much sillier.”

“Then I promise; what is it?” and Rose quite trembled with anxiety to know which of her pet habits or possessions she must lose.

“Give up your ear-rings,” and Charlie laughed wickedly, sure that she would never hold to that bargain.

Rose uttered a cry and clapped both hands to her ears where the gold rings hung.

“Oh, Charlie, wouldn't anything else do as well? I've been through so much teasing and trouble, I do want to enjoy my pretty ear-rings, for I can wear them now.”

“Wear as many as you like, and I'll smoke in peace,” returned this bad boy.

“Will nothing else satisfy you?” imploringly.

“Nothing,” sternly.

Rose stood silent for a minute, thinking of something Aunt Jessie once said “You have more influence over the boys than you know; use it for their good, and I shall thank you all my life.” Here was a chance to do some good by sacrificing a little vanity of her own. She felt it was right to do it, yet found it very hard, and asked wistfully,

“Do you mean never wear them, Charlie?”

“Never, unless you want me to smoke.”

“I never do.”

“Then clinch the bargain.”

He had no idea she would do it, and was much surprised when she took the dear rings from her ears, with a quick gesture, and held them out to him, saying, in a tone that made the colour come up to his brown cheek, it was so full of sweet good will,

“I care more for my cousins than for my ear-rings, so I promise, and I'll keep my word.”

“For shame, Prince! let her wear her little danglers if she likes, and don't bargain about doing what you know is right,” cried Archie, coming out of his grove of newspapers with an indignant bounce.

But Rose was bent on showing her aunt that she could use her influence for the boys' good, and said steadily,

“It is fair, and I want it to be so, then you will believe I'm in earnest. Here, each of you wear one of these on your watch-guard to remind you. I shall not forget, because very soon I cannot wear ear-rings if I want to.”

As she spoke, Rose offered a little ring to each cousin, and the boys, seeing how sincere she was, obeyed her. When the pledges were safe, Rose stretched a hand to each, and the lads gave hers a hearty grip, half pleased and half ashamed of their part in the compact.

Just at that moment Dr. Alec and Mrs. Jessie came in.

“What's this? Dancing Ladies' Triumph on Sunday?” exclaimed Uncle Alec, surveying the trio with surprise.

“No, sir, it is the Anti-Tobacco League. Will you join?” said Charlie, while Rose slipped away to her aunt, and Archie buried both cigars behind the back log.

When the mystery was explained, the elders were well pleased, and Rose received a vote of thanks, which made her feel as if she had done a service to her country, as she had, for every boy who grows up free from bad habits bids fair to make a good citizen.

“I wish Rose would drive a bargain with Will and Geordie also, for I think these books are as bad for the small boys as cigars for the large ones,” said Mrs. Jessie, sitting down on the sofa between the readers, who politely curled up their legs to make room for her.

“I thought they were all the fashion,” answered Dr. Alec, settling in the big chair with Rose.

“So is smoking, but it is harmful. The writers of these popular stories intend to do good, I have no doubt, but it seems to me they fail because their motto is, 'Be smart, and you will be rich,' instead of 'Be honest, and you will be happy.' I do not judge hastily, Alec, for I have read a dozen, at least, of these stories, and, with much that is attractive to boys, I find a great deal to condemn in them, and other parents say the same when I ask them.”

“Now, Mum, that's too bad! I like 'em tip-top. This one is a regular screamer,” cried Will.

“They're bully books, and I'd like to know where's the harm,” added Geordie.

“You have just shown us one of the chief evils, and that is slang,” answered their mother quickly.

“Must have it, ma'am. If these chaps talked all right, there'd be no fun in 'em,” protested Will.

“A boot-black mustn't use good grammar, and a newsboy must swear a little, or he wouldn't be natural,” explained Geordie, both boys ready to fight gallantly for their favourites.

“But my sons are neither boot-blacks nor newsboys, and I object to hearing them use such words as 'screamer,' 'bully,' and 'buster.' In fact, I fail to see the advantage of writing books about such people unless it is done in a very different way. I cannot think they will help to refine the ragamuffins if they read them, and I'm sure they can do no good to the better class of boys, who through these books are introduced to police courts, counterfeiters' dens, gambling houses, drinking saloons, and all sorts of low life.”

“Some of them are about first-rate boys, mother; and they go to sea and study, and sail round the world, having great larks all the way.”

“I have read about them, Geordie, and though they are better than the others, I am not satisfied with these optical delusions, as I call them. Now, I put it to you, boys, is it natural for lads from fifteen to eighteen to command ships, defeat pirates, outwit smugglers, and so cover themselves with glory, that Admiral Farragut invites them to dinner, saying, 'Noble boy, you are an honour to your country!' Or, if the hero is in the army, he has hair-breadth escapes and adventures enough in one small volume to turn his hair white, and in the end he goes to Washington at the express desire of the President or Commander-in-chief to be promoted to no end of stars and bars. Even if the hero is merely an honest boy trying to get his living, he is not permitted to do so in a natural way, by hard work and years of patient effort, but is suddenly adopted by a millionaire whose pocket-book he has returned; or a rich uncle appears from sea just in the nick of time; or the remarkable boy earns a few dollars, speculates in pea-nuts or neckties, and grows rich so rapidly that Sinbad in the diamond valley is a pauper compared to him. Isn't it so, boys?”

“Well, the fellows in these books are mighty lucky, and very smart, I must say,” answered Will, surveying an illustration on the open page before him, where a small but virtuous youth is upsetting a tipsy giant in a bar-room, and under it the elegant inscription, “Dick Dauntless punches the head of Sam Soaker.”

“It gives boys such wrong ideas of life and business; shows them so much evil and vulgarity that they need not know about, and makes the one success worth having a fortune, a lord's daughter, or some worldly honour, often not worth the time it takes to win. It does seem to me that some one might write stories that should be lively, natural and helpful tales in which the English should be good, the morals pure, and the characters such as we can love in spite of the faults that all may have. I can't bear to see such crowds of eager little fellows at the libraries reading such trash; weak, when it is not wicked, and totally unfit to feed the hungry minds that feast on it for want of something better. There! my lecture is done; now I should like to hear what you gentlemen have to say,” and Aunt Jessie subsided with a pretty flush on the face that was full of motherly anxiety for her boys.

“Tom Brown just suits mother, and me too, so I wish Mr. Hughes would write another story as good,” said Archie.

“You don't find things of this sort in Tom Brown; yet these books are all in the Sunday-school libraries” and Mrs. Jessie read the following paragraph from the book she had taken from Will's hand,

“'In this place we saw a tooth of John the Baptist. Ben said he could see locust and wild honey sticking to it. I couldn't. Perhaps John used a piece of the true cross for a tooth-pick.'”

“A larky sort of a boy says that, Mum, and we skip the parts where they describe what they saw in the different countries,” cried Will.

“And those descriptions, taken mostly from guidebooks, I fancy, are the only parts of any real worth. The scrapes of the bad boys make up the rest of the story, and it is for those you read these books, I think,” answered his mother, stroking back the hair off the honest little face that looked rather abashed at this true statement of the case.

“Anyway, mother, the ship part is useful, for we learn how to sail her, and by and by that will all come handy when we go to sea,” put in Geordie.

“Indeed, then you can explain this manoeuvre to me, of course,” and Mrs. Jessie read from another page the following nautical paragraph,

“The wind is south-south-west, and we can have her up four points closer to the wind, and still be six points off the wind. As she luffs up we shall man the fore and main sheets, slack on the weather, and haul on the lee braces.”

“I guess I could, if I wasn't afraid of uncle. He knows so much more than I do, he'd laugh,” began Geordie, evidently puzzled by the question.

“Ho, you know you can't, so why make believe? We don't understand half of the sea lingo, Mum, and I dare say it's all wrong,” cried Will, suddenly going over to the enemy, to Geordie's great disgust.

“I do wish the boys wouldn't talk to me as if I was a ship,” said Rose, bringing forward a private grievance. “Coming home from church this morning, the wind blew me about, and Will called out, right in the street, 'Brail up the foresail, and take in the flying-jib, that will ease her.'”

The boys shouted at the plaintive tone in which Rose repeated the words that offended her, and Will vainly endeavoured to explain that he only meant to tell her to wrap her cloak closer, and tie a veil over the tempest-tossed feathers in her hat.

“To tell the truth, if the boys must have slang, I can bear the 'sea lingo,' as Will calls it, better than the other. It afflicts me less to hear my sons talk about 'brailing up the foresail' than doing as they 'darn please,' and 'cut your cable' is decidedly preferable to 'let her rip.' I once made a rule that I would have no slang in the house. I give it up now, for I cannot keep it; but I will not have rubbishy books; so, Archie, please send these two after your cigars.”

Mrs. Jessie held both the small boys fast with an arm round each neck, and when she took this base advantage of them they could only squirm with dismay. “Yes, right behind the back log,” she continued, energetically. “There, my hearties (you like sea slang, so I'll give you a bit) now, I want you to promise not to read any more stuff for a month, and I'll agree to supply you with wholesome fare.”

“Oh, mother, not a single one?” cried Will.

“Couldn't we just finish those?” pleaded Geordie.

“The boys threw away half-smoked cigars; and your books must go after them. Surely you would not be outdone by the 'old fellows,' as you call them, or be less obedient to little Mum than they were to Rose.”

“Course not! Come on, Geordie,” and Will took the vow like a hero. His brother sighed and obeyed, but privately resolved to finish his story the minute the month was over.

“You have laid out a hard task for yourself, Jessie, in trying to provide good reading for boys who have been living on sensation stories. It will be like going from raspberry tarts to plain bread and butter; but you will probably save them from a bilious fever,” said Dr. Alec, much amused at the proceedings.

“I remember hearing grandpa say that a love for good books was one of the best safeguards a man could have,” began Archie, staring thoughtfully at the fine library before him.

“Yes, but there's no time to read nowadays; a fellow has to keep scratching round to make money or he's nobody,” cut in Charlie, trying to look worldly-wise.

“This love of money is the curse of America, and for the sake of it men will sell honour and honesty, till we don't know whom to trust, and it is only a genius like Agassiz who dares to say, 'I cannot waste my time in getting rich,'” said Mrs. Jessie sadly.

“Do you want us to be poor, mother?” asked Archie, wondering.

“No, dear, and you never need be, while you can use your hands; but I am afraid of this thirst for wealth, and the temptations it brings. O, my boys! I tremble for the time when I must let you go, because I think it would break my heart to have you fail as so many fail. It would be far easier to see you dead if it could be said of you as of Sumner 'No man dared offer him a bribe.'”

Mrs. Jessie was so earnest in her motherly anxiety that her voice faltered over the last words, and she hugged the yellow heads closer in her arms, as if she feared to let them leave that safe harbour for the great sea where so many little boats go down. The younger lads nestled closer to her, and Archie said, in his quiet, resolute way,

“I cannot promise to be an Agassiz or a Sumner, mother; but I do promise to be an honest man, please God.”

“Then I'm satisfied!” and holding fast the hand he gave her, she sealed his promise with a kiss that had all a mother's hope and faith in it.

“I don't see how they ever can be bad, she is so fond and proud of them,” whispered Rose, quite touched by the little scene.

“You must help her make them what they should be. You have begun already, and when I see those rings where they are, my girl is prettier in my sight than if the biggest diamonds that ever twinkled shone in her ears,” answered Dr. Alec, looking at her with approving eyes.

“I'm so glad you think I can do anything, for I perfectly ache to be useful; everyone is so good to me, especially Aunt Jessie.”

“I think you are in a fair way to pay your debts, Rosy, for when girls give up their little vanities, and boys their small vices, and try to strengthen each other in well-doing, matters are going as they ought. Work away, my dear, and help their mother keep these sons fit friends for an innocent creature like yourself; they will be the manlier men for it, I can assure you.”