We began in a very humble way.  The school trustees loaned us during the summer vacation a couple of recitation-rooms which we converted into a library and conversation-room.  The former we furnished in the first instance with the popular magazines and two or three of the daily newspapers.  We forthwith began also to accumulate something of a library.  Mr. Wheaton presented us with a full assortment of Patent Office reports, which will be very valuable for reference if any body should ever want to refer to them.  We also have two shelves full chiefly of old school-books, which a committee on donations succeeded in raising in the neighborhood.

But apart from these treasures of knowledge our collection is eminently readable.  Maurice Mapleson is on the library committee, and Maurice Mapleson is fortunately a very sensible man.  “The first thing,” he says, “is to get books that people will read.  Valuable books that they won’t read may as well stay on the publishers’ shelves as on ours.”  So as yet we buy only current literature.  We rarely purchase any book in more than two volumes.  We have a good liberal assortment of modern novels-but they are selected with some care.  We sprinkle in a good proportion of popular history and popular science.  The consequence is our library is used.  The books really circulate.  Our conversation-room has proved quite as popular as the library.  It is furnished with chess and checkers.  What is more important it is furnished with young ladies.  For the Wheathedge library knows neither male nor female.  And the young men find our checkers more attractive than Tom Poole’s cards.  They are ready to exchange the stale tobacco smoke and bad whiskey of his bar-room for the fair, fresh faces that make our reading-room so attractive.  The boys, too, as a class are very willing to give up the shameless pictorial literature of his free reading-room for Harper’s and the Illustrated Christian Weekly.  In a word the Wheathedge library became so universally popular that when the opening of the school threatened to crowd us out of our quarters, there was no difficulty in raising the money to build a small house, large enough for our present and prospective needs.  The only objection was Mr. Hardcap.  For Mr. Hardcap does not approve of novels.

This objection came out when I first asked him for a subscription, payable in work on the new building.

“Do you have novels in your library?” said he.

“Of course,” said I.

“Then,” said he, “don’t come to me for any help.  I won’t do anything to encourage the reading of novels.”

“You do not approve of novels, then, I judge, Mr. Hardcap?” said I.

“Approve of novels!” said he, energetically.  “If I had my way, the pestiferous things should never come near my house.  I totally condemn them.  I don’t see how any consistent Christian can suffer them.  They’re a pack of lies, anyhow.”

“Do you not think,” said I, “that we ought to discriminate; that there are different sorts of novels, and that we ought not to condemn the good with the bad?”