A HEAVY CURSE by Editor

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Feb 22, 1905

A HEAVY CURSE.

By Editor

NEXT to their intimate companions, what people read has more influence over them than aught else. It is a true saying that a man may be known by the company he keeps; and it is no less true that one may be known by the kind of reading he enjoys. There are few evils of like magnitude to that of evil and vicious literature. Evidences of its withering, blasting, blighting influences are seen on every hand. No other evil is so widely extended in Christian lands as that of light literature in the form of serial and sensational stories, love-sick romances, thrilling adventures, seaside libraries, dime novels, etc., etc. It is utterly impossible for one to keep note of them as they fall from the press. They enter many homes where the wine-cup has never been seen.

True, we do not find the "yellow-covered" dime novel nor the cheap serial in the gilded mansion of the rich, nor the last popular novel in the beggar's hut, but similar matter is found in each, with the same influence. This literature of fiction, with its covert sneers at religion, its low standards and false standards, its unworthy motives, creeps into the houses of Christians; it comes to us through the religious press; it finds a place in Sunday-school libraries—different, it is true, in degree of evil, but the same unreal, fictitious literature still. We see its well-thumbed pages often beside the neglected Bible, these pages intently perused by the children of those who are looking for the soon-coming of Christ, and not a protest uttered by either father or mother, whose duty it is to protect and care for the intellectual and spiritual welfare of the child, as well as to provide for its physical needs. Alas, that these things are so!

The danger, however, lies not in its mere purchase and presence, but in its tendency and influence. We know not words to express its banefulness in this direction. It takes a quicker possession of the youthful mind, and lures and fascinates and holds with grip more tenacious and deadly, than that of the wine-cup. In fact, its influence tends to physical intemperance. How many youth have become users of the vile weed tobacco, by reading how gracefully curled the smoke of the fragrant Havana from the lips of the hero of some wonderful story! How beautifully is pictured the pleasing (tho frequently corrupt and filthy) reveries which come in the hour's indulgence of an odorous cigar, by pens that might be a power in a better cause! How many have been led to taste the mocking wine by reading a brilliant account in some popular work of fiction, of how charming and fascinating was the exquisitely-beautiful heroine as she delicately poised the sparkling glass of blood-red wine, and sipped its exhilarating contents! How many, the judgment of God alone will reveal.

How many girls who might have been ministering angels at home, blessings to father, mother, brothers, and sisters, have left all, to mingle in the unreal and abandoned life behind the scenes of the theater or opera—lured there by the brilliant descriptions and talent-worship of prominent actresses, as set forth in the light literature of to-day! How many a promising boy has forsaken his father's roof, and the useful, honest pursuits of life, to endeavor to become a second "Claude Duval," "Jesse James," or some other noted desperado, whom some novels have characterized as a hero! Many instances come to public notice every year through the press. Then, there is the great mass of whom the world takes no account who, if not utterly ruined, become mental dyspeptics, crippled in life's work; who become men and women of small mental caliber, at best,—dwarfs in mind and soul.

This kind of literature presents before us nothing real or tangible. The pictures of life are either overdrawn or lacking in necessary features. They present before us utopian views of life, which have existence in this world of ours only in dreams. Thousands enter the marriage relation thinking it one long, happy honeymoon, who become soured as soon as the stern realities of life are encountered. Following this come misery, wretchedness, unfaithfulness to marriage vows, intemperance, divorce. Such are educated to a large extent by the romances of the day. Were it not for this false education, we verily believe that there would be less divorce and crime against marital law. Looking for perfection in their ideal, unreal, selfish fancies, the common duties and realities of life make a yoke irksome and grievous to be borne.

Novel reading takes from its devotee, energy and zeal in the stern duties of life, deepens selfishness, and leads to distrust of everything that does not pander to the selfish heart and unreal fancies. To be considered heroes or heroines is the acme of the aspiration of the slaves of light literature, while the work of real

heroes lies undone on every hand. They grumble and find fault, they are sickly, simpering, peevish, impatient. They will weep over the abnormal, slighted love of one who never existed, and sneer over the wants and woes of those who surround them. Their own selfishness and the love of Christ never cause a pang or feeling of gratitude. How many times have we seen a sentimental, love-sick girl weep over the fate of a pen-picture, when the poor, tired, discouraged, heart-sick mother, and toil-bent father, could not even call forth a word of sympathy! What rays of light these sons and daughters might be in the days of cloud-gloom and darkness! what a power in the church of Christ, if they were willing to grapple with duty, and, in the strength of God, fight the real battles of life!

There may be good things said in novels, words which appeal to the purer, holier emotions of our natures, but words, nevertheless, which often make the novel all the more dangerous. They are the gilded bait which hides from the minds of the well-disposed the poisoned, fateful hook. They are the beautiful flowers which hide the snare. It is this novel-reading which oftentimes leads boys to speak of mother as "old woman," or "the old lady," or father as "the old man," or "governor." How many are led to look back over the past and regret the brightest years of life, which have been given to such reading,—years when memory was most retentive, when character was forming,—and what would they not now give if they could but recall them! How the memories linger! How the habit of hasty, rapid, unreflecting reading remains! How hard it is to efface their impression! What struggles has it cost to resist their influence—the blighting, baneful influence of this corrupter of minds, this destroyer of memory, this feeder of selfishness! It is called light literature, but it is one of the heaviest of curses.

Parents, do your duty. Place before your children the Word of God, and truthful, mind-building reading. Novel reader, be admonished before you become a mental wreck. Dear youth, shun such reading, and, as companions, those who prefer such reading. Be real men and women. The greatest heroes and heroines are those who conquer sin and self, and lovingly labor for others' good.