re puzzled to know just where to start them in life. Ben
declared his preference at last--he wanted to be some sort of a
newspaper man.

They called Mr. Whitney in to council. He was not quite sure he would
recommend beginning there. It would be better to learn the trade
thoroughly at such a place as the Harpers'. Then there would always be
something to fall back upon. Steve did not cordially approve, and Dr.
Joe was quite disappointed. He was ready to help Ben through college.

Newspaper people did not rank as high then as now. There was a good deal
of what came to be called Bohemianism among them, and it was not of the
artistic type. For the one really good position there were a dozen
precarious ones.

Aunt Nancy Archer rather amused them with another objection. She wasn't
at all sure the publishing of so many novels was conducive to the
advancement of morals and religion. She never could quite understand how
so good a man as Brother Harper could lend it countenance. When she was
young the girls of her time were reading Hannah More. And there was Mrs.
Chapone's letters, and now Charlotte Elizabeth and Mrs. Sigourney.

"Did you know Hannah More wrote a novel?" inquired John, with a half
smile of his father's humor. "And Mrs. Barbauld and Mrs. Edgeworth and
Charlotte Elizabeth's stories are in the novel form."

"But they have a high moral. And there are so many histories for young
people to read. They ought to have the real truth instead of silly
make-believes and trashy love stories."

"There are some histories that would be rather terrible reading for
young minds," said John. "I think I'll bring you two or three, Aunt
Nancy."

"But histories are _true_."

"There are a great many sad and bitter truths in the world. And the
stories must have a certain amount of truth in them or they would never
gain a hearing. Do we not find some of the most beautiful stories in the
Bible itself?"

"Well, I can't help thinking all this novel reading is going to do harm
to our young people. Their minds will get flighty, and they will lose
all taste and desire for solid things. They are beginning to despise
work already."

"Aunt Nancy," said Ben, with a deprecating smile, "the smartest girl I
know lives just below here. She does most all the housekeeping, she can
wash and iron and sweep and sew, and she reads novels by the score. She
just races through them. I do believe she knows as much about Europe as
any of our teachers.