But his remarks in a much later letter to a friend on childish reading are so pertinent that I introduce them here.
"Never take a book away from a child unless it is positively vicious; that they should learn how to read a book and read it quickly is the great point; that they should get a habit of reading, and feel a void without it, is what should be cultivated.

Never mind if it is trash now; their tastes will insensibly alter.

I like a boy to cram himself with novels; a day will come when he is sick of them, and rejects them for the study of facts.

What we want to give a child is 'bookmindedness,' as some one calls it.

They will read a good deal that is bad, of course; but innocence is as slippery as a duck's back; a boy really fond of reading is generally pure-minded enough.
When you see a robust, active, out-of-door boy deeply engrossed in a book, then you may suspect it if you like, and ask him what he has got; it will probably have an animal bearing." Friendships more or less ardent, butterfly-hunting, school games, constant visits to the cathedral for service, to which he was always keenly devoted, uneventful holidays, filled up most of his school life.