These do not always stand in relation of cause and effect, but the one is sometimes a powerful stimulant to the other. A case which recently occurred in Boston has attracted wide attention. Jesse Pomeroy, “the boy murderer,” a short time ago killed two children, a little boy and a little girl. He was tried, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged. The Governor of Massachusetts and his Council, the most eminent jurists, and leading men and women of Boston, have been deeply concerned about what should be done with Jesse. Many have petitioned for commutation of the sentence to imprisonment for life. Strange as it may seem, delegations of ladies have besieged the Governor and Council to carry out the sentence of hanging, and it is now reported that this will soon be done unless the decision should be reconsidered. What has especially attracted our attention in this case is an account of the mental ailment on which this “boy murderer,” has been for a long time nourished. It is said, “Pomeroy has been a close reader of dime novels and yellow-covered literature until, as one of the gentlemen stated in his argument before the Council, his brain was turned, and his highest ambition was to be the ‘Texas Jack’ of South Boston.” It seems that his parents kept a store for the sale of newspapers and periodicals and “trashy literature.” Here probably he found the stimulant which led him to commit the dreadful deed for which he now stands sentenced to be hanged. He had found his hero in these “dime novels,” and he wanted to be a hero too. We are strongly reminded of two cases which occurred a few years ago, one in England and the other in this country. An English nobleman had been murdered by his valet de chambre. It came out on trial, by the confession of the murderer, that he had been a great novel reader, and had been especially fascinated by the hero of “Jack Shepherd,” one of the popular novels of the day; and his consuming ambition was to imitate that character in his heroic deeds. His ambition was satisfied in the murder of his master, and the law had its revenge in his execution. The American case was still more thrilling, the main facts of which will be readily recalled. During the administration of President Tyler a mutiny occurred on board the American brig “Somers,” a war vessel then at sea, under the command of Commodore Mackenzie. Midshipman Spencer, son of the Hon. John A. Spencer, Secretary of War in Tyler’s cabinet, headed the mutiny. The intention was to put the officers to death, and turn the vessel into a pirate. The plan was discovered just in time to prevent its execution. Mr. Spencer, being detected as the ringleader of the mutineers, was tried under the provisions of maritime law, found guilty, and was promptly executed by being hung at the yardarm of the “Somers.” Commodore Mackenzie’s course was approved of by the President, and applauded by the whole country, although great sympathy was felt for the Secretary of War and family. The significant fact, which points the moral without adorning this sad tale, relates to young Spencer’s college life. He had enjoyed every advantage which wealth and high social position could bestow. His grandfather, Ambrose Spencer, stood at the head of the judiciary of the State of New York, and his father was a cabinet minister. But novel-reading had been his ruin. “The Pirate’s Own Book” had been his constant college companion, and after his execution it was believed that he had sought and obtained a position in the navy for the purpose of putting into practice the lessons which that book had taught him. All these cases afford instruction by which parents should profit. They should be very scrupulous as to the kind of “light literature” which finds its way into the hands of their children. We should as soon give poison to our children. Novel-reading is a perfect passion with multitudes. When it has attained such ascendancy it unfits the devotee for any good, even if it does not stimulate to the open commission of crime.—Presbyter and Herald.