wiser than we. To be consistent, it would turn every man into a hermit or a savage. Such a position is sometimes silly self-conceit; sometimes simple pride; sometimes it is a voluptuous animalism that would find in literature both stimulus and excuse for sensual indulgence. The wise adviser would respect the tastes of each reader, and would even bid him both gratify and follow them, but he can do something to aid him in discerning what they are, and why, and how far they are to be allowed, or, if need be, restrained. Inspiration, genius, individual tastes, elective affinities, do not necessarily exclude self-knowledge, selfcriticism, or self-control. If the genius of a man lies in the development of the individual person that he is, his manhood lies in finding out by self-study what he is and what he may become, and in wisely using the means that are fitted to form and perfect his individuality.

Others are especially jealous of the use of any moral standard in the critical judgments of books, or in the advice which is furnished concerning methods of reading. Such persons would be instinctively repelled from the papers which we propose to write, as they may have already inferred that we intend to use ethical considerations very freely, and perhaps severely. Against this they will inwardly protest in thoughts like these:-What has literature to do with morality? Poetry and fiction, essays and the drama, history and biography-everything in short which we usually call literature-aim to present man and his experiences as they are, and not as they ought to be. It is the aim and end of all these to describe, and not to judge, to paint to the life, and not to praise or condemn. The reader, not the writer, may judge if he will and as he will. But, in order to be able to judge, one must see all sides of human nature and human life, and these must be portrayed with energy and truth as they are; he must survey every manifestation of the human soul, the evil as

well as the good, the passionate as truly as the self-controlled. The censor who brings the laws of duty to measure and regulate our reading, who judges of books as he judges of men, interferes with the freedom that gives all its life to literature and most of the zest and value to reading.

There is some truth in all this; or rather, there is a truth which is perverted into this caricature and error. What the truth is, and how far it may be carried without perversion and danger, we will show as we proceed. For the present, we observe that no mistake can be more serious than to suppose that the law of conscience and the rules of duty have nothing to do with the production and enjoyment of literature, as many modern libertines in the field.. of imaginative writing would have us believe. Ethical ideals are produced by the same creative imagination which furnishes the poet and the novelist their materials and their power. Ethical truth is but another name for imagination holding "the mirror up to nature," i. e., to nature in man, or human nature. Nature in man invariably prescribes ethical standards, and to these the imagination responds when she sets forth fiction as fact, poetry as truth, and history as reality in its highest import and loftiest significance. Not only is this true, but much more than this can be shown most satisfactorily.

If the lessons of these facts teach anything, they teach that literature must respect ethical truth if it is to reach its highest achievements, or attain that place in the admiration and love of the human race which we call fame. The literature which does not respect ethical truth, ordinarily survives as literature but a single generation. The writer who gives himself to any of the untruths which are known as superficial, sensual, Satanic, godless, or unchristian, ordinarily gains for himself either a brief notoriety or an unenviable immortality. He is either lost, or damned to fame.

Of all the shams that pass current, with those who write or with those who read, that is the flimsiest which hopes to outrage or cheat the human conscience. While, then, on the one hand we contend for a somewhat liberal construction of the ethical and religious code as applied to the production and use of literary works, we insist that certain rules on this subject can be easily ascertained, and should be uncompromisingly enforced. But we as earnestly affirm that neither ethical truth, nor even religious earnestness, does of itself qualify a writer to produce, or require the reader to read a work which has no other ground on which to enforce its claims to attention and respect. It is not enough to say of a book, that it is good or goodish, that it is Christian or safe, in order to justify its having been written or printed. There prevails not a little cant and hollowness, if not gross imposition and downright dishonesty, in the use of the phrases "Christian literature,” and "safe or wholesome reading," as we may have occasion to illustrate at some length.

We wish it to be understood that we do not write for scholars or littérateurs, but for readers of English; not for bibliographers or bibliomaniacs, to whom literature and reading are a profession, a trade, or a passion; but for those earnest readers to whom books and reading are instruction and amusement, rest and refreshment, inspiration and relaxation. Our papers will be familiar and free, not affected or constrained. Usefulness is their aim and object, and this aim will control the selection and illustration of the topics which may suggest themselves as we proceed.

But enough of this premising. We promise nothing, and yet we would attempt something. What we propose, if accomplished, will make these papers useful rather than exciting. They will be the minister of pleasure in their remote results, rather than by immediate excitement.

While then, as all well-mannered writers do, we ask the attention of the reader, we trust it will be given with a clear understanding of the character of what we propose to offer him, and with no extravagant expectations concerning its interest or its worth.

2

CHAPTER II.

WHAT IS A BOOK? AND WHAT IS IT TO READ?

Ir may appear very much like trifling to ask these questions. Nothing is more familiar and nothing seems better understood. We may, however, find it useful to define, somewhat formally, what a book is, and what it is to read a book. Children, as we know, are very generally taught that whatever is printed is to be regarded with deference. The fiction is useful if not necessary, first, to prevent them from tearing books, and next, to train them to listen to the wisdom of books with a teachable spirit. In consequence, they learn very easily to esteem all books as alike oracles of wisdom and truth.

Mr. H. Crabb Robinson tells us that when a child he was corrected for mis-spelling a word on the authority of his spelling-book. On being told that the word was wrongly printed he says "I was quite confounded. I believed as firmly in the infallibility of print as any good Catholic can in the infallibility of his Church. I knew that naughty boys would tell stories, but how a book could contain a falsehood was quite incomprehensible." -Diary, Chap. ii.

Not a few men live and die with a similar impression, and never cease to esteem a book as in some way endowed with a mysterious authority by the very fact that it is a book. This opinion is well expressed in the lines

""Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
A book a book, although there's nothing in't."

Following this tradition there are very intelligent men who