Suppose a person were so well grounded in faith and virtue, so thoroughly versed in theology, philosophy, and the natural sciences, that the reading of books e. g. on Christian Science, or the works of Voltaire, would not harm him. The Index prohibits these books; would he whom they could not harm be allowed to read them? As we put the case, he would, by reading them, not commit the sin of seriously endangering his soul. Yet he would sin by disregarding a positive law of the Church. These laws are like the precautionary measures taken by the civil authorities in times of epidemic; if they are to have the desired effect, they must be observed by all. When the community is under quarantine, those who declare themselves free from the disease must observe the regulations as well as the rest. Let those who think they have _a good reason_ for reading a forbidden book, and who are not mistaken in supposing that there is no danger for them, humbly ask for permission, as did the Saints. By doing so they declare that the standpoint of the Church is theirs, and that they willingly submit to a power which was entrusted with the care of “teaching to observe whatsoever I have commanded you.” “We have to develop a loving habit of loyalty and obedience to the Church as to Christ, our Savior.” Suppose, on the other hand, there were no Church laws prohibiting pernicious reading. In that case should we be allowed to read any book we pleased? By no means. We should then, it is true, by reading, e. g., Zola’s novels, not commit an act of disobedience to the Church. But, as already hinted, there is another duty imposed on us by God Himself—the grave duty to guard our soul from serious danger. This duty does not depend on any positive law or decree of authority, and it equally binds the Christian and the non-Christian. It is expressed in the fifth commandment: “Thou shalt not kill.” This duty corresponds on our part to what we ask of God in the sixth petition of the Our Father: “Lead us not into temptation.” We should undoubtedly violate it by reading Zola’s filthy works. The prohibition of these works by the Church merely adds another obligation to that imposed by the natural law, thereby considerably strengthening our will and enabling us to resist every enticement to read what can be read only at a serious risk to our soul. This grave duty, therefore, is not imposed by the Church and cannot be taken away by the Church. It is a natural duty and as such remains in force even after we are granted a formal permission, which is neither intended nor able to suppress temptations that may arise from the perusal of bad books. If we have a good reason to apply for permission—curiosity is not a good reason—then and then only can we expect a special protection from Divine Providence. Of course, this protection does not dispense us from the necessity of using all the means of self-protection, both natural and supernatural.