convalescent in our hospital asked me to bring him a book to read while he was getting well.
"What would you like?" I asked, expecting of course that he would say Harold Bell Wright or O. Henry, or suggest a stray copy of the Cosmopolitan or the Red Book.
"I think I should like to read Henry V," was his reply. The only explanation is that he must have had a rare mind or an unusually inspiring teacher.
I do not wish to suggest to high school boys that they are justified in spending their time on trashy reading. The better things they read and understand and enjoy, the better for them. I am convinced that they are asked to read many books good in themselves, but far beyond their understanding and their appreciation. It is the reading habit which they should cultivate, and no one is likely to get that habit unless reading is a pleasure for him, unless books tempt him when he sees them lying about, and lure him away from his work or from other appealing pleasures. I know few boys who would decline an invitation to a moving picture show in order to finish an interesting book.
There is a good deal said against the reading of trashy books by boys, and I think much that has been said is not without a foundation of truth; the practice is too general. I think I read up to the age of fifteen as much trashy stuff as any normal boy of my age. I read Mary J. Holmes and E. P. Roe and all their clan, from Edna Rivers to Barriers Burned Away. I went through the goodie-goodie
