Such books fill boys’ heads with absurd, not to say wicked ideas.  I have observed their influence in the course of ten years’ experience with boys; and when I see one who has named his sled “Blackbeard,” “Black Cruiser,” “Red Rover,” or any such names, I am sure he has been reading about the pirates, and has got a taste for their wild and daring exploits—­for their deeds of blood and rapine.  One of the truant officers of Boston, whose duty it is to hunt up runaway boys, related to me a remarkable instance of the influence of improper books.  A few years ago, two truant boys were missed by their parents.  They did not return to their homes at night, and it was discovered that one of them had stolen a large sum of money from his father.  A careful search was instituted, and the young reprobates were traced to a town about ten miles from the city, where they were found encamped in the woods.  They had purchased several pistols with their money, and confessed their intention of becoming highwaymen!  It was ascertained that they had been reading the adventures of Dick Turpin, and other noted highwaymen, which had given them this singular and dangerous taste for a life in violation of the laws of God and man.  My young readers will see where Tim got his ideas, and I hope they will shun books which narrate the exploits of pirates and robbers.

Two officers were chosen in each band to command the squads.  Tim was shrewd enough to know that the more offices he created, the more friends he would insure—­members who would stand by him in trial and difficulty.  In Charles’s band, one of these offices was given to the turbulent Barney; his fidelity was thus secured, and past differences reconciled.

“Now, Charley, my crew shall put up one tent, and yours the other.”

“Very well,” replied Charles, who derived a certain feeling of security from the organization which had just been completed, and he began to feel more at home.

The stakes were driven down, and the poles placed upon the forks; but sewing the cloth together for the covering was found to be so tedious a job that it was abandoned.  The strips were drawn over the frame of the tent, and fastened by driving pins through it into the ground.  Then it was found that there was only cloth enough to cover one tent.  Tim’s calculations had been defective.

“Here’s a pretty fix,” said Tim.

“I have it,” replied Charles.  “Come with me, Barney, and we will have the best tent of the two.”

Charles led the way to the Sylph, and getting on board of her by the aid of one of the boats, they proceeded to unbend her sails.

“Bravo!  Charley,” said Barney.  “That’s a good idea; but why can’t some of us sleep in this bit of a cuddy house?”

“So we can.  Here is Uncle Ben’s boat cloak, which will make a first-rate bed.  Don’t say a word about it, though, and you and I can have it all to ourselves.”

The sails were carried ashore, and were ample covering for the tent.  Dry leaves, which covered the ground, were then gathered up and put inside for their bed.