Low to lead
13o00o' The colleges, whilst they firovide us
with libraries, furnish no Professor of
Books: and, I think, no chair is s~ much
wanted. "-EMERSON.
REVISED EDITION.'ew i otiorkt
Price, Fifty Cents.








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ilow to Jead
it tCie aest Weu.
The colleges, whilst they provide us
with libraries, furnish no Professor of
Books; and, I think, no chair is so much
wanted. "-EMERSON.
REVISED EDITION.
XCtW Forkt*




" What do we, as a Nation, care about Books? How much do you
think we spend altogether on our Libraries, fublic or lo ivate, as comfiared with what we sfend on our horses? If a man spends lavishly
on his library, you call him MAD-a Bibliomaniac. But you never call
one a Horsemaniac, though men ruin themselves every day by their
hors-es, and you do not hear of feohle ruining themselves by their
books. We talk of food for the mind, as of food for the body; now a
good Book contains such food inexhaustibly; it isj5rovision for life, and
for the best _art of us; yet how long most peotle would look at the
best Book before they would give the Irice of a large turbot for it.
Though there have been men who have pinched their stomachs and
bared their backs to buy a book, whose libraries were cheaper to them,
I think, in the end, than most men's dinners are  A precious thing is
all the more _recious to us if it has been won by work or economy;
and if Public Libraries were half as costly as Public Dinners, or Books
cost the tenth part of what bracelets do, even foolisk men and women
might sometimes suspect there was Good in Reading."-RUSKIN.




CONTENTS.
PART FIRST.
HEALTHY READING.
I.-SINGLE THOUGHTS.
Lemma.-What can I tell you about Books to
induce you to listen to me?
I. Function of a book.
II. Not so much good done by reading as there
ouglht to be.
III. The reason is want of a guide.
IV. Qualifications of the author for this duty.
Glance at the.ProblemIHow are we to use Books?
I. Are they worth the trouble?
II. Who is the bookworm?
III. WVhence is the barrenness of general readers?
IV. How is it a guide is wanted in Reading now,
and not before?




4
V. How are the great engineering problems of
the day solved?
Four Stages of the Development of the Mind; or,
Nature's method of teaching us to read her
Book.
I. As a child: Concepts.
II. As a youth: Theory.
III. As a man: Practice.
IV. As a sage: Wisdom.
II.-COMMON THOUGHTS,
Or, Propositions flowing from the Single Thoughts.
Particular Propositions, relating to reading.
I. What is the general aim in reading a Book?
II. The particular motive?
III. How often must we read a Book?
IV. What must be our aim in each different reading 
Lastly, what has been said of one book is applied to any number.
General propositions, necessary to profit by what follows:
V. The method of Nature truly conservative.
What is, is good, under conditions.
VI. Pleasure and pain, what? or Theory of Life.
Model man and woman.




III.-DEEDS.
Why left to the learner himself?
IV. — WISDOM.
Being rules, precepts, and maxims, for the good of
The Body.
I. Read aloud.
II. Stop often.
III. Walk.
IV. Read large print.
The Mind.
I. Have faith; and find a substitute for reciprocity.
II. Write down what you know.
III. Read first to understand.
IV. Do not skip passages.
V. Pause often.
VI. Read with a pencil and paper.
VII. Copy out memoranda at night.
VIII. Observe striking passages.
IX. Do not read everything recommended.
X. Do not expect to feel any good from  one
Reading.
XI. Be not down-hearted if the fruit is long in
coming.




XII. Fear not to tread the narrow way of Reading.
The Soul.
Seek not much good for the soul in Reading,
save from one Book.
PART SECOND.
UNHEALTHY READING.
Use of the evil.
Criterion of good and evil stated and applied to
Reading.
Case I. The man who does not read at all.
Case IL. The man who reads merely for amusement.
Case III. The man who has no definite aim in
Reading.
Case IV. The man who seeks his own good, but
not in a fixed way, or method.
Want of a system of study in Universities.
Case V. The man who seeks mere knowledge of
the Book.
True value and use of examinations.
Faults of the system of study in Universities.
Case VI. The man who wants to do too much.




7
Case VII. The man who cannot use his experience; for himself, unwisdom; for the public
and the author, criticism.
Case VIII. The men who suffer from many diseases at once.
Last words to the Reader.








HOW TO READ A BOOK.
"Multa legas facito; perlectis perlege multa."
CATONIS Disticha, lib. iii. v. 17.
HEALTHY READING.
I. -SINGLE THOUGHTS.
You are quite a stranger to me, Jut you are my fellow-mnan. What must I say to get you to listen whilst
I tell you, in plain English, How TO READ A BooK IN
THE BEST WAY?  This is what I have first to find
out. See, now, if I have met with good success in my
search.
Each man owes his own welfare far more to his
fellows than to all the rest of the world put together.
The growth of all of us is the fullest when we throw
ourselves most open to the teaching of others. But
we cannot meet with anything like the vast number




10
of men we want to help us through the manifold needs
of the age in which live. We must, then, find something to aid us in the place of a man. This something
is a BOOK: by means of the printing-press a man can
multiply himself far beyond his common bounds of
number, space, and time; he can stretch a helping
hand through hundreds of years, over thousands of
miles, to millions of his fellow-men; he can tell them
all that he has thought and done; he can share with
them his deepest insights into nature, man, and God.
How cheering, then, it must be to the lover of mankind,
to see that there are within the reach of every one
many more books than could easily be reckoned, and
that more folk read now than at any former time.
Yet, on carefully weighing the almost boundless
growth of the means of reading, we see that the. good
which follows fiom their use is but slight. This is
owing to the very common want of a knowledge-How
TO READ. There is great lack of sign-posts along the
way of reading. Hence it comes that so many hurry
on a random race, knowing neither the goal they have
to reach nor the reward for which to hope. There
are scarcely any who place before themselves the settled
aim, to get the highest good from a book, by reading
it in the best way; and if they do so, there is no one
to tell them  what the way is: even in the seats of
learning such a guide is not to be found; for, in some




of our universities, it is never hinted that there may
be such a thoroughfare as is sought: in others, though
many ways are taught, nobody learns to sift the fitness
of them, as they are meant to be taken with a blind
faith, grounded on naught but the power of the teacher
to bias the learner.
As help failed from others, I sought it in myself.
Now, I have been a zealous lover of reading from my
earliest childhood. I have tried to forward my growth
by earnest study, for the full number of years, at two
universities. I have had the happiness to meet as
friends some of the foremost readers and writers of the
day. I have felt, by trial, the ills and losses which
afflict the reader who treads the beaten paths to bookish lore. At last, however, I have found a way easy
and swift to travel. I must now make all haste to
show this way to others.
To this end, I call for the help of the printing-press,
the mightiest engine which one man can wield. That
great power, which, when uncontrolled, broods over a
murky wilderness of ink, and floods each brain with a
shapeless mist of thought, I now beseech to aid me in
uttering, openly to all, the means whereby the clouds
of night, in which it has hitherto dwelt, may be swept
together from the clear blue sky, and made to fall in
fruitful rain. What I have sought is, how are we to
become skilled in the use of the tools and weapons




12
forged for the mind in the printing-house.  How are
we to handle them so as to win most brightly
in our toil and strife? The cleverest agricultural
machine that tills a country in a day, the most dreadful arm of the modern artillery that whitens our cheek
as we are told of its power-both of these are merely
huge playthings in the hands of those who have not
been taught their use. And a few loose whimsies
about the matter are not enough. Unless we can point,
as well as load our cannon, they only serve to hinder
us on our march. In what belongs to the world of
nature, all this is stale. We have plenty of guides to
the use of all natural machinery. Yet the largest of
our mental workshops hums every hour with toil, and
no man tries to teach us the use of what is wrought.
It is true, we have with books their prefaces and introductions; but these tell us, at the most, barely
what is the aim of the book, not how to use it, so as
to reach the end in view. This neglect of a guide to
the use of books is a grievance of a very old standing.
We find it dates from the revolt against authority,
and the enthronement of individual opinion which
started with the Reformation, and soared its loftiest
flight in rationalism.
Perhaps it is hinted that the grievance can be but
small, as the end sought in reading is most trifling.
Books are only makeshifts for men; they are therefore




13
worth a great deal less than their writers. Now among
men we very seldom find a pure yearning towards the
welfare of their brethren, and we often fail to discover
any leaning whatever to such a bounteous mood. The
commonplace mates of our daily life are not often
gifted with the highest of heads or the noblest of
hearts. Nor were it fitting that they should be so.
The uncommon is in general better suited to be pointed
at with the finger of amazement than to be taken into
the hand for use. The very thing which stamps a
man as common is that which gives their greatest
worth to his like. It is their number makes them
common, but it is also their number that gives them
weight. A single brick is not worth a farthing, yet
who canll reckon the cost of a city?  Very few individual men are worth a step to see. The every day
kind of men pull us about quite enough, without our
needing to go out of our way to meet them. We
should only lose our time if we did. We do not go
far to look for a stone-to see a huge boulder or an
Alp, we will travel for weeks. The truly mighty
man is worth any amount of study; with books the
case is much the same, but worse, for nature teaches us
how to follow men, bit not how to read books. Of
by far the greater number of writings each is quite
unfitted for sober study by itself; while those aimed
at our highest well-being, and thus deserving most




14
earnest reading, are very few, and even they are put
into our hands without a hint of how to use them.
Fitting out in haste for the voyage of life, we have
to choose between a boat without an oar, and a ship
without a helm.
Since then it happens that most of us follow the
author in the dark, can we wonder if many folks look
with dislike upon any one who busies himself earnestly with books? Yet their gibes are too sweeping
when they sneer at all such as bookworms.
To those that make the books is chiefly due the barrenness of those that handle them. Inability to bring
forth fruit has sprung, as it often does, from the unbounded abuse of means which were given to be
knowingly and soberly dealt with, in order to come
at ends foreseen. It is the authors who are to blame for
withholding what was needed to save the unknowing from those excesses into which they are so apt to
plunge.  These unrighteous distillers of mental
draughts have brewed of the strongest,.and sold without stint to the weakest. In this they have yet to
learn their duty. A man has no right, in our day, to
hurl a book into the world without one tittle of foresight. It was formerly otherwise. A man then wrote
for the chosen few who were learned. Now he writes
for the crowd, for every one who likes to buy or borrow his book. With other belongings have come other




duties. An author cannot now take it for granted that
those for whom he works know how to employ what is
wrought. But the makers of books still do their jobs
as if this were so. There is clearly therefore a great
gulf between the authors and the public. This I shall
now try to span, feeling sure that the mental engineering of the day is fully able to meet our real wants.
Let us seek from the practical engineer a hint of the
worthiest path to follow.  His words are these:
Wrest from nature the hidden clue to the road she
travels: you wish to create new worlds of thought;
study then the' manner in which the old world of
matter is framed in your minds: you desire to cover
your mental nakedness; see how God puts on the
living garment of the universe.
In following this advice, let us cast back our eyes
upon our earliest childhood. Sweetly and softly does
the All-mother rock the cradle of our new-born mind.
Gently she cares that we be not blinded by the sudden
flashing in upon us of the outer world. Mist-clouds
are endlessly swaying around the dawn of our mental
powers. As they are slowly riven, how bright are the
tints of the earliest sights we behold! surely the leaf
was then more green, the snow more white, the night
more dark, the wind more boisterous than it has ever
been again. Many a time since then have we gazed
with pleasure upon the loveliness of the material




16
universe, but seeing it so often, it seems not near as
bright.  If we had to paint a landscape to our mind's
eye, where should we find such dazzling colors as in
the storehouse of our earliest remembrances.
WVe are struck not only with their clearness, but
also with the want of any links to tie them into one.
Each little thing that happened stands forth boldly
and alone, alike without others going before and
coming after. That day we were out walking, we
never seemed to have started, and never to have turned
towards home. That lightning-shattered tree is all
that we marked in our long day's ride. *That fearful
plunge of the ship brings our little hand, stretched
over the bulwark, almost within the reach of one of
the mightiest waves in the world, an Atlantic wave.
But the vessel seems to hang still at that slippery
angle, and never to have righted herself again. That
house, where the poor madman lived, and hurled from
the window the bricks of his fireplace at the passersby, is still a house of dread to us, although we dwelt
in the neighborhood long years after he was gone, and
his howlings had died away for ever. But one night's
family hymn is ever winding its way upstairs to our
little cot, where we are early put to bed with a
mQther's kiss.
Such memories as these are common to us all in
our first instinctive days. As the veins of the past




17
yield a richer ore, we can call back more various mental feelings, but all our wonderings, longings, joys and
fears, go still with jerks before us. How lively was
the play of our fancy! Every thought was clothed as
in robes of light.  A book was not read but lived
through. We were never stopped by the unlikelihood of the story. We looked for wonderful lamps
and enchanted maidens in our daily walks. Our talk
with our bosom friends was of wild adventures in
strange lands. The real and the ideal were mingled
all in one. The lamp of reason was not yet lighted
from the torch of instinct. We are busied with feeling and thinking individual things without and within
ourselves.  These thoughts are called Concepts by
those who are learned in the dead tongues. They are
the single threads to'be hereafter woven into the web
of knowledge. The growth of Concepts is the leading
mark of our mental whereabouts in this, the first stage
of our mind's life.
Soon a change is near, and the sign is this. Scene
follows scene with an ever-quickening speed. We almost lose our steadiness, in the seemingly-endless
round. The giddy whirl fevers our brain for a time;
but this spinning that never stops wearies us at last.
We can no longer note each change that flits before
us. We must hold on by something that is fixed, or
we shall fall. Let us try to grasp that which for a




18
little does not alter. Bewildered with the unlike, let
us cling to what is alike in several of the hurrying
crowd of thoughts. What need of more food from
our feelings until what we have already swallowed
has become part of ourselves? Let us know what we
have felt. Let us pair our single thoughts, and say
that such and such are alike, or unlike. This saying
is, by the learned, called a Proposition. In the proposition, two or more single thoughts are joined in the
bonds of wedlock. Let us hope for a blessing on our
new-made family ties. Let us lighten their days by
shedding on them without stint the sunbeams of our
reason. After waiting a little the brood begins to
come. Who cannot call to mind that wondrous time,
when the current coin of his thoughts first began to
bear his own image? Can he ever forget how hard he
had to struggle not to speak? Shaking of the voice
and-quivering of the nerves are present at the birththroes of our own mind, and, when brought forth,
how beautiful are our offspring! Were ever children
like to ours?
Until the end of the second stage of knowledge and
theory, we nourish them ourselves; but the time comes
when they must be turned out to look for their living.
The word must mould the world. We are tired of
knowing, and we wish to do. It seems to us now that
one deed is worth a whole lifetime of theory. We




19
are eager to put our hand to whatsoever we can
find to do. Our ability to act seeks the air in every
way, for we are much hemmed in, and this hemming
in is pain. The beginning of this third period is the
most painful halt in our lives.
Indeed, so much courage is wanted to lead one to
make a trial of passing through the third stage, and
the risk of breaking down is so great, that few get as
far as the start. We must call to mind, that although
there is great likelihood of a crash if we go on, it
must come if we pull up hard.  A man cannot back
out of being answerable for doing a good deed, by
putting its fulfillment out of his power.  Cutting off
our right hand would not free us from the duty of
feeding our helpless babes. Yet many have sunk and
died on the road of duty. If their death mounds lie
thick on our right hand and on our left, let them be to
us as finger-posts to keep us closer to the narrow path
that leads through the valley of the shadow of the
great change of thought into deed. Look, 0 trembling theorist, at the lovely hills beyond. They are
the means of pleasurable activity. The faces of those
walking on them, shine as with a glory. Know that
it comes of healthful exercise. On, then, onward still 
We must, then, time after time, try our powers on
something that we long to do. Again and again we
will miss our aim. Then a slight stroke of good luck




20
falls to our lot. It gives us a thrilling glimpse of
what may yet be done. In the end we find for our
ability plenty of room to work. In making the most
of it, we reach at length that painless, or even pleasant stage, in which the daily task we have thoroughly
mastered becomes, as it were, a part of ourselves.
The sun of our reason has shone from one side.
Now its rays light up the other. Our ability to work
upon the world is steadily lessening. In the same
way as we opened out, we now draw back within ourselves. We again seek to help the growth of knowledge. But this time it is of a knowledge of the deeds
which were called forth by our foregoing knowledge
of the thoughts. Our experience of action we blend
together in rules, or maxims. Has not old age the
allowed right to point the way, and to warn the straggler?  How  calmly do we now look upon the
toils and trials of others! how worthless seem the
struggles of the outer world to our inner realm of
peace! The men of the world are painfully finding
out their bounds by rudely knocking up against them.
The ever renewed feeling, that they are hemmed in,
is to them a curse. We have lived through it all,
long, long ago. How very young it all seems to us!
Our trials have taught us so well the lengths of our
tethers, that we never run so far to be pulled up with
a jerk. They never hurt us, for we move without




21
tightening them; in fact, we never feel our bonds.
This is bliss. And although we are being wrapped in
for our last sleep, we scarce take note of a precaution
so gentle. It is true, when first our leaves began to
drop, we started as we heard them rustle. Now, their
same-sounding fall is only Nature's lullaby, softly inviting us to slumber. And let us hope, that when we
cast our latest look upon the clouds that curtain in
our setting sun, they will glow with the ruddy pledge
of a good day on the morrow.
We have now seen the four great stages of the
growth of man's mind. It would be easy to sketch
the same in the growth of mankind. But enough has
been already said to guide us in finding How To
READ.
II. COMMON THOUGHTS.
I. LET US START BY LAYING DOWN, THAT WE WANT
TO READ A BOOK SO AS TO GET AS MUCH GOOD FROM
IT AS WE CAN; TO MASTER AND USE IT; NOT ONLY TO
SWALLOW IT, BUT TO MAKE IT PART OF OURSELVES,
AND THEREBY STRENGTHEN ALL OUR POWERS. WHAT
WE WISH TO FIND IS, HOW IT MAY BE CHANGED IN
SHAPE SO AS TO BECOME MOST LTIKE TO THE REST OF
US. IN FACT WE ASK, HOW ARE WE TO FEED OUR
MINDS?




22
As nature feeds us. By observing how we acquire
a knowledge of the Book of Nature, we find the first
hints sought toward the proper handling of any human book. When we try to forward our own growth,
we must shape our course after the labors of Nature
in the same line. Our way of studying the little world
of a book must be likened to that by which we grasp
the mighty world in which we live.
II. WE MUST HALVE A FIXED AIM WHEN WE READ
A BOOK.
The test of our deeds, for good or for ill, is what we
will to do. If we have no aim in doing anything, it
cannot bear much fruit. And whatever aim we have
must be single, for it is much the same whether we try
to aim at a number of things at once, or at none at
all.
III. EVERY BOOK, FROM WHICH WE SEER THE
CHIEFEST GOOD, SHOULD BE READ AS OFTEN AS THERE
ARE ENDS IN VIEW WHICH ARE NOT ALIKE.
It is no use trying to do two things at once, and
both in the best way. Now, we have seen that Nature
perfects us in four stages, wholly unlike each other.
In the first two, the road leads inward; and in the
second two, outward. The first stage is marked by
the growth of single thoughts, called Concepts; the
second by a knowledge of how our thoughts stand to
one another, called Theoretical Cognition, and summed




23
up in Propositions; the third, by deeds, or will and
desire, called Conation; the fourth by a knowledge
of how our deeds are linked together, called Practical
Cognition, which takes the shape of maxims, rules or
precepts.
IV. WE SHOULD, THEREFORE, READ A BOOK FOUR
TIMES, WITH THESE FOUR AIMS:
First to see clearly the author's meaning;
Second, to fix his propositions in our minds, by tabulating them;
Third, to practice them in the cases he gives, and in
others chosen by ourselves;
Fourth, to make precepts to guide us by what follows from our trials; and to judge, or criticise the
book, pointing out both the good and the bad.
FIRST READING.
Before beginning a book for the first time, we know
not what is held therein. Were it opened to our eyes
at once we could not seize the whole. We must thus
draw near to a knowledge of it step by step, as page
after page is turned. As the panorama begins to be
unrolled, we faithfully observe each scene. By and by
our power of observation lessens, and without a hearty
screwing up, our mind gets slack, and we are landed
at the end of the book in a rayless jumble of ideas.




24
Instead of calmly laying down the volume with an
overpowering belief that we have taken -the first step
toward making it a part of ourselves, we dash it
from us, and rush to seek elsewhere to tighten the
muscles of our mind, or to disburden our overloaded
shoulders.
SECOND READING.
Allowing, however, that we have been able fully to
keep up to the last with the author's meaning, we are
then glad to ease the fixedness of our gaze, by studying how the thoughts we have just won stand to' each
other. The author is the magician of the present day.
His scrolls, to be truly worthy, must be written with
a large outflow of living might, or as they said of old,
with his blood. If this be so, the reading of our
modern spells brings up before us more spirit forms
than ever Magian power dreafnt to call forth. But
what must we do with our ghostly crowd? We cannot think of letting them go, in the very moment they
have come to meet us. We have many things to ask
them. We must gauge themselves and their belongings. We must link them together in the bond of the
Proposition. And we must make up for what we lose
from their fleeting nature by writing down what we




25
have witnessed. These ends we keep before us in
reading the book for a second time.
THIRD READING.
Anything that stops us while we are a-doing gives
us pain. Want of knowledge bars us in many a deed.
Now this hindrance is moved away, and we are able
to seek pleasure where alone it is to be found, in the
free use of our powers. On first trying to bring single
cases under our propositions which embrace the whole,
we get but a short way ahead, and meet with but little
good luck. We steadfastly toil on. The hard places
overcome, give us to know our own might, which
strides wider with every stumbling-block overstepped.
At length our going on is so rapid it seems as if there
were nothing we durst not undertake. This is, however, but a sham, and it does not stand the test of an
enlarged number of trials, which we do not forget to
make.
FOURTH READING.
We then know both our weak and our strong points,
and accordingly draw up a set of precepts, pointing out
what we may hopefully try to do, and how to handle
it in the best way. We can now also see unmistaka



26
bly where the author has slumbered, and where there
is proof of wakeful labor in what he has overcome.
We are thus fully able to show up both his beauties
and his blemishes; in fact, to criticise him. For we
are rightly busied with criticism  at the last stage,
whereas many of us wrongly try to bring it in at the
very first. This is a great mistake, as the fullest growth
of criticism can only be reached after we have practiced the author's leading thoughts in the way he seeks
to teach. We find, accordingly, that the surest proof
we have read a book in the best way is, not a wish to
cut it up, but a desire to write one of our own to the
same end.
Lastly, let it be noted, that the foundations which
have been laid for the study of one book are still more
needed in a plan for reading many books. - This plan
will help us to choose the easiest way-namely, that
leading from the more simple to what is less so. But
what is more simple at one stage of our reading is less
so at another. We must, therefore, change our standpoint to suit our seasons. Let it be enough to call to
mind the observation, that in early life we have most
to do with particulars, and, at a later time, with general ideas. To enlarge further on this head would
seem to lead us in the study of the matter read, rather
than the manner of reading it. Such discussion would
be out of place here, being kept back, all save a few




27
hints in the next chapter, for another short guide-book
that will tell us what to read.
-V. We observe in each of the four stages, the one
that goes before is swallowed up in the one coming
after, but not destroyed. We are thus led to give ear
to a truly conservative criticism, which enjoins on us
not to seek to remove the old, save by taking it kindly
to ourselves, and making it wholly our own.- We thus
change its shape. We then modestly bring it out under its new form. We do not hoot at the fashion it
had before, as it must once have been suitable for the
season, or it would never have been worn. But now
the times are changed. That is all. There is for us
in this world no good which is ever good and all good.
We can only hope to find that in which the good stands
farthest before the evil. Let us call to mind that a
high test of the good is, that it is. The mere being
of a thing unmistakably shows, that it is more fitted
than unfitted to its belongings, and that, therefore, the
good therein overbalances the evil. In the use of this
touchstone we must only take heed we do not forget,
that we may look at the same thing from many standpoints. The three great observatories of mankind are
the Body, the Mind and the Soul; which three link
us with Nature, Self and God. Our warning when
given as to these three is only this: never forget from
which stand-point you are looking, nor fancy that




28
what is observed to be true from the one holds also
when looked at from the other; beware of reasoning
that because a man is healthy in his body he is therefore in good health spiritually; or, because his mind
shines brightly, he must, therefore, be well and strong
bodily, and so on. Let us stretch our reasoning from
one stand-point at a time. This is all the more needful, as the power of spreading out healthily in every
way, bodily, mentally and spiritually, is the rarest of
all.
VI. This spreading out of our powers, if free, is the
source of Pleasure; if checked, of Pain.
Our abilities expand by exercise, and the means of
that exercise are afforded by our bounds. Were we
perfectly free there would be nothing for us to do.
But were our bounds entirely removed we should run
clean away. We could, no more than a reservoir,
exist without a constant damming up. Now, the use
of our powers is threefold: —First, in removing our
bounds farther away, so as to give us more room and
greater freedom for exercise. This spreading out, or
expansion, gives us what may be called Positive
Pleasure.  Secondly, we may employ our powers by
hedging ourselves in. The pleasure that accompanies
this narrowing, or contraction, may be called Negative.
Thirdly, we may content ourselves with moving peacefully within our bounds, whatever they may be. This




29
calm life is Blessedness. And since we are gifted with
foresight and aftersight, as well as the power of seeing
what stares us in the face, it follows that pleasure is
not limited in time to the period of actual activity of
our powers.
Again, if the hindrances overcome are little we feel
glad and show it with smiles.  We are sorry for our
trivial failures, and show it by tearfulness. These are
the many twinkling wavelets which chase one another
over the surface of the sea of life on a day of sun and
showers. If our difficulties are great they give rise
either to joy or grief. Joy is the tall wave leaping to
the sky; grief is its trough, plunging in the deep, all
on a growing day of boisterous weather. To overcome
the trifling hindrances is the chief aim of the microscopic care of the puny, creeping dwarf of a man, with
his small eyes, narrow chest, weak head and faint
heart. Glorious victories are reserved for the largeeyed, broad-shouldered, far-striding, great-minded man
of might. He is a joyous soul, for nothing comes
amiss to him.  He is equal to all his foes. And who
are they but the grim giants of Falsehood, Hatred and
Despair? Hark to the clear-ringing war cry that
bursts from his heroic chest! See him leap exulting
to the fray! Mark well the proud carriage of that
noble head!  Behold the beaming eye, which, like
the sun, never looked upon a shadow!




30
At home there awaits him a woman, great in her
heart as he in his head. She is indeed his equal, for
no true man'is ever irresistibly determined to wed
until he meets his equal among women. HIIe has
found his match in one who overflows with loving
kindness.  To him is her desire, for is he not her
husband? And is she not the mother of his children?
Towards him she ever casts her fondest glance. To
others she is dark and cold. But he and she are one
in love.
III. DEEDS.
The practice of what is taught is always best left to
the good sense and taste of the learner himself. This
is now done, with two or three hints as to what he
should read.
Let him at first follow the way now opened, in
reading some work worthily acknowledged to be great
as a whole. He must begin his training with a discipline that will strengthen all his nature, and not with
a few tricks cunningly planned to forward the growth
of particular muscles. Having made sure of a healthy
activity in every line, he cannot look too narrowly
to the utmost advancement of each kind of ability in
its turn.




v3
Again, many books are unfitted by the aim of those
who wrote them for being read in the best way.
These authors never intended their works to be grafted on to the readers. Such, among many others, are
all light books, as of sports and pastimes; cram-books,
the fruits of the thickening and tabulation, which
properly wind up the Second Reading alone; books
to be dipped into, as encyclopedias and dictionaries;
pamphlets of the day; newspapers of the hour, and
so on. Yet, however unfitted a book may be for be.
ing read in the best way, a man will nevertheless get
more good by taking it in that way than in any other.
It is, indeed, very difficult to find a book truly worth
the trouble of reading as a good book ought to be
read. Lest this should hinder any one from making
a trial, it is well for him to bear in mind, that a worthless book read four times will do him less harm, and
more good, than four worthless books read once.
IV. WISDOM.
The maxims about Reading are divided into three
kinds, according as their chief aim is the good of the
BODY, the MIND or the SOUL.




32
THE BODY.
I. READ OFTEN ALOUD.
This is almost the only way in which reading can
be made to work for good upon the body itself. Otherwise we must look to the mind and soul, which are so
closely joined with the body that the welfare of each
is a common good to all. Indeed, the lower mental
powers, such as the fancy, are so nearly linked with
the body, that it cannot be healthy unless they meet
with plenty of exercise.
The next three maxims are such as debar us from
being ill, rather than lead us to be well.
II. IN ORDER TO REST THE EYES, CHIEFLY IN
READING AT NIGHT, SHUT THEM NOW AND THEN
FOR A FEW MINUTES.
III. RISE SOMETIMES FROM YOUR SEAT. WALK
ONCE OR TWICE ROUND THE ROOM, BREATHING IN
AND OUT, LONG AND DEEPLY. DO THIS' AT LEAST
ONCE IN THE HOUR.
IV. FIROM TWVO EDITIONS OF THE SAME BOOK,
PRETTY MUCH ALIKE IN OTHER RESPECTS, CHOOSE
THAT IN THE LARGER AND CLEARER PRINT.




33
THE MIND.
I. TRY TO BELIEVE IN THE AUTHOR OF THE
BOOK YOU READ, THAT HE HAS SOMETHING TO
TEACH, AND IN THE WAY OF READING YOU. FOLLOW, THAT IT WILL ENABLE YOU TO LEARN WHAT
IS TAUGHT.
The first thing needed for success in any search is
a belief that the means used will enable us to get
what we want. This belief is not reached all at once.
There comes at first but a dim foreshadowing that we
may perhaps be able to do something or other. We
then make numerous trials. But our hopes are only
in part.fulfilled. We are, however, led to think that
we shall succeed in the end. Each step forward is
followed by doubled toil, and this by pleasure as our
abilities become more free with exercise. - We are
thus persuaded that nothing can keep us from the
end we put before us at starting. This persuasion
sends the blood dancing through our veins in wildest
glee. Filled with high-flown zeal, brimful of love,
we feel at length that the world we live in is our own.
So it is with the search after knowledge and wisdom
in books. A book is as we treat it. We ought in
the beginning to pet the author; to give way to a fellow-feeling with him; to laugh if he tickles us, weep




34
if he wants us to mourn, and so on. We should be
guided by his will-in fact, become like little children. This is all the more necessary in the present
day, when then the mental activity has become so very
self-conscious, that every book is written with a definite aim. This marks the adult period in the growth
of mankind who have ceased to be chiefly animals.
The unconsciousness of boys is no more the healthy
attitude of the man, than birds-nesting is his natural
amusement.
Yet the inflowing from the book is not an end, but
must in its turn bring an outflowing into play. If
not, we are either choked offhand, or we linger on,
inflated or unwieldy. The same ebb and flow is
illustrated in our bodies. Matter works on us from
without inwards. Life works in us, outwards. Unless each nearly balanced the other we should soon
cease. to be what we are. If the inward forces were
too powerful they would only destroy one another,
and our frame would be stiffened in the outset; just
as the cell, when its growth is stopped, passes into the
crystal. If, on the other hand, the outgoing forces
overmatched the others, or worked too long, the
springs of our life would be dried up. In either case
death, that great change of shape, would be wrought
in us before its fitting season.
We must then take care, that while we begin our




35
reading by laying ourselves open to our author, we
end it by doing for others what he has done for us.
II. IF THE BOOK YOU TAKE UP IS ABOUT SOMETHING WITH WHICH YOU ARE FAMILIAR, RUN OVER
IN YOUR MIND, AND, BETTER STILL, WRITE DOWN
WHAT YOU ALREADY KNOW BEFORE STARTING. ON
ENDING THE STUDY OF THE BOOK, SETTLE HOW FAR
YOU HAVE ADDED TO YOUR STOCK OF KNOWLEDGE
AND WISDOM.  CLOSE YOUR ACCOUNTS WITH THE
AUTHOR IN THE USUAL BUSINESS FORM OF DEBIT
AND CREDIT.
III. ON THE FIRST READING OF A BOOK THE
EASIEST THING TO TRY AT IS TO UNDERSTAND THE
AUTHOR S MEANING.
The first reading should enable you to do this. For
the oftener you read a book the less power you have
to fix your mind on the mere concepts of the author,
if they have once been mastered. Man not being a
machine, it is anything but easy for him to do even
the simplest thing over and over again. If, then, you
cannot follow the meaning throughout the book, you
must narrow the space overspread, and treat this
smaller bit in the same way as you should the whole.
If the first reading of even a small part does not give
you a clear understanding of what you have read, go
over it again with the same aim.
There precepts are equally applicable to each of the




three following stages. Having, at last, mastered all
the parts individually, end by reading the book as a
whole.
IV. Do not skip passages every now and then, like
a small boy picking currants out of his halfpenny
cake. Pay a little more regard to the author's ideas
of what is good for you.
V. When reading, pause often for a few minutes to
make sure that you have compassed the aim you put
before yourself in going through the passage just
ended. Bear in mind that you slacken your hold as
you widen your grasp.
VI. Read with a pencil and a piece of paper for
notes. Fold the paper down about half an inch at
the top, so that when stuck in the book it may not
slip through. When any idea comes up in your own
mind, not belonging to the aim you have in view at
the time being, make a note of it and mark the passage in the book with one, two, three or four dots, in
a horizontal row, according to the number of the
stage with which the idea is most closely linked,
whether that of concepts, propositions, practice or
precepts.
VII. Copy out your notes, putting more to them
each night, in ink. Give at least an hour to this kind
of work, just before going to bed. If so much time
cannot be spared, then less must do; but rest not




37
while none is given to this most worthy record of your
day's observations.
VIII. OBSERVE CAREFULLY BY WHAT PASSAGES
OF THE BOOK YOU ARE MOST STRUCK.
They belong either to what you have lived through,
or to what you are about to experience. The former
spread before you the traces of what you have been.
Now that you can look at them calmly, be sure that
you learn of them wisdom. The latter unveil the weaknesses of what you will be. Guard against these at
the fitting season. You may safely trust your natural
bias to lead you to choose as patterns the graces you
chiefly lack. To further the growth of these you must
give the most of your pains.
IX. Do NOT BE DRIVEN TO READ ANY BOOK THAT
ANYBODY MAY HAPPEN TO RECOMMEND TO YOU.
We have just seen that a man is most struck by the
mirroring of his own past and his own future. These
please him in a book. But for no two of us are they
the same, nor even for any one of us, a few days together. So unlike are they and we, that very often
one man feeds on what would kill another.
X. Do NOT EXPECT ANY GOOD FROM ONE READING
UNLESS YOU WERE  FORMERLY  FAMILIAR  WITH
WHAT THE BOOK IS ABOUT.  IN THAT CASE YOU
DIP INTO THE BOOK MORE FOR THE SAKE OF STUDYING ITS MANNER THAN ITS MATTER.




38
XI. BE NOT DISCOURAGED IF THE GOOD FRUITS
OF YOUR READING ARE NOT RIPENED AT ONCE.
The more time anything takes in learning the longer it
lasts. The toadstool is the growth of a night; the oak
of a century. Untimely curiosity to see what will be
brought forth, is a fruitful source of misery. We can
always make ourselves unhappy at any moment by
thinking of what we have not yet attained. The
means of our unhappiness are in our own hands. To
restrain ourselves from having recourse to them, we
must live chiefly in the present, but by faith. Leave
to the past the burial of its own corpses.
XII. Fear nothing from  the narrowness and precision of the way pointed out.
The fastest traveling is on railways. And besides,
even if the discipline be irksome, this only serves as a
wholesome check to excess of reading, and leads to a
diligent use of the natural safeguard against its ills.
This safeguard is writing or composition. And the
surest proof that a book has been read in the best way,
is a desire to write one like it of our own.
THE SOUL.
There is one BooK which ought to be the first that
is read in the BEST WAY. This way of reading is well
fitted to the spirit of those holy pages which teach us




39
to judge of deeds by the aim or bias of the doer. Otherwise seek not much good for the soul in reading. It
is the body and the mind which may discover in this
world all that is wanted for their growth. The soul
belongs not to the earth. There is only one Sunday
in the week. Yet that blessed day gives us time
enough to learn that the thirst of knowledge and wis.
dom is a pitiless fiend, which hunts a man to his grave.
There its onward fury dies with its victim. Not a
shred can he take with him into the next world to hide
either his bodily or his mental nakedness; but
"Love never faileth."




PART SECOND.
UNHEALTHY READING.
Having pointed out the way of healthily following
literary studies, I must now seriously handle some of
the more common of the vast number of cases, in
which reading has led to disease, and become a curse
instead of a blessing. It is our weary doom to learn as
much by failure as by success. Tile wise man gains
wisdom from the sight of his brother's fall. And
let his fallen brother comfort himself with the thought,
that if he has left behind him only a ruin half-buried
in the sand, the heaps of rubbish will at least hinder
any other from trying to build on the same treacherous
foundation. The barren tree may be good for fuel.
The most rueful tatterdemalion can at least take the
post of a scarecrow. Let no man dream that the least
bit of work is ever lost. There is no such thing as
toiling in vain. The unknown thinker shakes the air
that circles round the world of mind, in the full measure
of the ability of his thought, and this as surely as one




41
who is observed of all. He who is not spared to scale
the wall may yet help to fill up the ditch with his
body. High honor to the workers who are unacknowledged by the crowd! The foundations of tLe mightiest
buildings are unseen. It is with foam that the wave
is crowned. The greatest powers are withheld from
view. Their paths are hidden in the deep, and clouds
of darkness are their dwelling-place.
But if I thrust far from me the worldly touchstone
of success, what do I place before you in its stead?
A test that never fails; a standard that needs not a
following crowd to make it worthy. It is the test of
the thing itself.
In the world without, and in the world within, everything is to itself a law. Each must with itself be at
one; unto itself most like. The same must hold of
its belongings to others. With them it must agree as
with itself. That like draws to like is a law of Universal Gravitation. It holds of both matter and mind,
though it is only in the case of material things that the
attraction has been measured. Love and Gravitation
are one and the same. This is the burthen of the
hymns of those whose schools embrace the extremes
of modern philosophy. This is to the outer crowd of
gaping animals, a jargon; to the inner few, a truism.
So, too, it is with all other self-supported dogmas.
Tile agreement, or harmony, with self, and with




not self, is the healthy, the beautiful, the true, and
the good. When of sonle part there is too much, or
too little, or none at all, the want of harmony which
arises is disease, ugliness, falsehood and evil. Now
we find that too little and none at all of any one
thing go hand-in-hand with too much of another; and
that too much of one is generally accompanied by too
little of all the rest. Unusual growth in one way is
generally a token of a like shrivelling up in the others.
Enlargement, and lessening, stretching and shrinking
are names we give to the same, according to the way
in which it is viewed.  Whether we begin to travel
eastward or westward round the earth, we shall, by
going on as we set out, come back to our starting
point. Yet, in the two cases, we should at like times
pass through points diametrically opposite. While
opposite paths lead to the same, we also reach opposite
points by starting from the same. This twofold beginning shows that steadiness is only found where the
bias is the same each way. This observation belongs
to everything that is, and might be fully worked out
in a learned treatise, but not in a few lines intended
to be popular.
I now go on to apply the test of Harmony to show
the sad plight of most readers. Their cases are classified according to what each exhibits in excess or defect. And as the ills are magnified when many books




43
are read in the same wrong way, it is easier and more
striking as a warning to point out these magnified
forms.
I. THE CASE OF A MAN WHO DOES NOT READ
AT ALL.
This old-fashioned creature may get on very well
with savages like himself, but he is quite out of keeping with the civilized men of the present day. This
want of agreement is a two-fold source of ills. The
individual of barbarous habits suffers all the unpleasantnesses of the present time without its advantages.
Nor has he even the opportunities of a former period.
The young British scholar of the time of the Druids
had no books to read, for their doctrine was strictly
forbidden to be written, lest it should be commonly
known, but he had twenty years to learn by word of
mouth a much shorter body of doctrine than our ULniversity man now masters in one-tenth of the time.
It is objected that what they did learn in those ancient days they learned well. So they may, for they
had the means. These we have not now. We cannot get lectured on the same narrow field for a score
of years. Nor do we rub so long or so roughly against
nature or man as they did in those days. At a later
period the theatre and the coffee-house made up for
the want of books on familiar subjects. Now, neither
is frequented. The artificial barriers against our fel



44
lows are many, but so are our artificial aids to intercourse with them. Though more time is required for
the management of our bread-and-butter business, we
can, with the help of books, employ what remains
more profitably than our ancestors could. Besides,
the knowledge of the wild man, if deeper than ours,
was not nearly so accurate. What we lose in one
way we gain in another. But the loss is compulsory,
while the gain is optional. Those in our times who
do not read are compelled to put up with the modern
restraints on mutual intercourse, while denying themselves the only means of compensation which are
offered.
II. THE CASE OF A MAN AWVHO MERELY READS
FOR AMUSEMENT.
He is content to follow the meaning of the author,
but seeks not knowledge.  He is satisfied to call
forth a flow of affection, but snffers it not to pass into
deeds. Pleasure is for him an end and not a means.
He seeks to put asunder what na:ture hath joined.
Such are the voracious devourer of novels and the
mawkish sentimentalist. These are the mental glutton
or drunkard, and the victim of mental pollution. The
first is afflicted with all the symptoms of indigestion.
And no wonder, when his food is an endless surfeit
of sweets. His jaded appetite is spurred into an unsound activity by a ceaseless variety of delicacies.




45
The more he reads, the more he wants to read. So,
too, it is with the victim of mental pollution, whose
case is all the more wretched when treated with books.
For the great objection to books is their one-sidedness. There is no reciprocity between the author and
the reader, as there is between man and man. It is
all take and no give. Thus the pleasure we obtain
by mere reading is meanly selfish, and utterly devoid
of loving kindness.  The wretched man who seeks
only his own pleasure in reading, is soon made bitterly aware of the grossness of his sin in neglecting
the happiness of others. This terrible self-consciousness bars him from the world with bolts of steel, and
binds him to himself with links of adamant.  He dare
not look a fellow-man in the face lest the fearful
secret should be guessed, how he fails in his duty to
mankind. The fruitful loveliness of nature is to him
a cruel mockery; the thought of God a frightful
spectre, that haunts him even in his narrowest and
darkest hiding-place.  He is repelled from every side,
even from the inside. For where will he find a more
sickening object than himself?  And on himself he
wreaks a terrible revenue. He is his own tormentor.
On his own debased countenance he stamps a life-long
warning to others not to pursue pleasure for itself
alone. Woe unto you that set your heart upon dreams
that are not your own!




46
These poor wretches grub deep for their misery.
There is one akin to them who finds a shallower sorrow. This disease is mental childishness. With
everything he wants to play. A book is to him a
toy, so he reads only the comic. IIis talk is chaff.
He is always sniggering. His ideal is the funny man.
This grinning and chattering idiot suffers less than
the others. His illness is, like himself, little and contemptible. It goes by the name of seediness, that
sure sign of a manr of petty aims. If people only
knew how unmistakably this complaint proclaims
their silliness and weakness, their want of sober-mindedness, earnestness, zeal and all high qualities, they
would not so often confess to feeling seedy.
III. THE  CASE OF A MAN READING WITHOUT
ANY CLEAR AIM TO DO HIMSELF GOOD IN A FIXED
WAY, BUT MERELY FOR THE SAKE OF READING;
OR, TO SAY THAT HE HAS READ SO AND SO; OR,
TO PASS THE TIME.
The reading thus becomes an end in, to and for itself. The man has been persuaded that it is a good
thing to read, and so he reads, perhaps the same number of pages every day, only for the sake of getting
through them  without missing a word. He might
just as well give the same time to twiddling his fingers. Nay, better, for he could not by any means
keep this up for long, whereas many people, especially




47
ladies, stick to the other for a lifetime.  Faith works
wonders, but even faith is thrown away on this
wretchedly-mechanical task work.  The folk might
as soon look for sweet sounds from a cracked pot, or
works of charity from turning the crank in a jail.
Staring through a lot of letters scarcely deserves the
name of reading, unless the reader is a child on the
lowest bench at an infant school. It is such fearful
drudgery, and needs such a painful struggle to keep
it up, that the merest hint of its utter worthlessness
is surely enough to hinder any one from ever trying
it again.
It is sometimes resorted to by University men, who
have made up their minds to read a certain number
of hours a day, but are done up before they have
ended the time fixed. If they are often tempted to
fall back on this lazy, groveling, earth-born outlet
from a praiseworthy resolution, let them at once lessen
the number of hours they have allotted to reading.
They had better read for five minutes with understanding, or at least with a trial at it, than pore over
pages mechanically all the days of their lives.
IV. THE CASE OF A MAN WHO REALLY SEEKS HIS
OWN GOOD AS A THINKING BEING, BUT TAKES NO SETTLED ROAD FOR ITS DISCOVERY.
This is both a common and a sad case. It is a fall
on the very threshold. The poor wretch lies flounder,



ing on the door-sill of the house of wisdom. This
case was my own. From my earliest years, I had been
fond, to a fault, of reading. I had devoured every
book that came in my way. The larger my stores became, I was the more unhappy. An endless peevishness and craving drove me again and again to seek
for more knowledge. This goaded me afresh to the
study of the most out-of-the-way books. I went about
in heaviness, and was weary all the day long. I was
at last persuaded that books could not do it, so I gave
them all up. I threw away all my chances of gaining
knowledge just as zealously as I had sought them before. This brought me more into contact with nature, with myself, and with my fellow-men. Earnest
thought followed. I saw the loveliness of discipline.
I observed that of nature. I walked the same paths
in reading as those by which nature guides us through
life. - I perceived that it is just as needful to limit the
number of one's acquaintances among books as among
men. I breathed freely for the first time. It was a
new birth. I was able to make my own all that came
in my way, and even to seek for more.
THIS ENTIRE WANT OF PLAN IS A GLARING MARK
OF THE STUDIES TN OUR UNIVERSITIES.  NO ONE
GIVES A HINT TO THE RAW STUDENT HOW TO READ.
He is left to find this out for himself.  He fails,
for he has not yet lived through enough to enable




49
him to make such a trial with any hope of sucess.
His failure is in doing too much, or too little, or
nothing at all; most oftenthe latter. If he is an able
man he tries to find out afresh for himself-everything
about which" he reads. He forgets that what was
given to the discoverers, before they had any chance
of succeeding, must needs have been very much
other than what has been given to him.  It is
therefore very unlikely that any good will come of
his lonely sweating to follow in their steps. He is
unfavorably placed for taking such a task in hand.
Whereas, there are undoubtedly new things to be
done, for which he is well fitted, if his short-sightedness would only allow him to look for them. If
he is a clever man, he sees clearly the good of getting mere knowledge, and his study step by step becomes only a cramming by steam. This case is again
met with' under the next head.
These evils have not escaped the notice of many of
the literary masters of the day; for they tell us a book
should mostly be read more than once. They say, "A
book once read is a book not read;" "A book not
worth reading more than once is not worth reading at
all;' "Much but not many;" "Outsidedness is the
crying evil of all reading now-a-days;" and so on.
But not a man of them all puts before us any fixed
number of times that a book should be read, nor tries




50
to point out any unlikeness in the aims of the different
readings.
V. THE CASE OF A MAN WHOSE ONLY AIM IS TO.
GET A KNOWLEDGE OF A BOOK.
This is the most common fault of clever men. They
very soon find that by shortening the time which ought
to be given up to shaping clear and distinct ideas of
the author's meaning, there is great room left for taking
to themselves a knowledge which is only a burden to
the memory. This answers their ends in the world, and
in examinations of outsides, such as are the greater
number. This cramped knowledge is cram, the baneful fruit of the overtillage of a narrow field. Its growth
may be greatly choked by setting papers, not merely
in parrot-work, but testing the student's ability to do,
or find out, something of his own. But it is a sorrowful truth, that even on such papers as these a fair show
may be made by one who is solely crammed to that
end, and is nevertheless quite blind to the rights and
grounds of each kind of skill. See how soon such fingerwork falls away. It is run up much too fast to stand
long. Such slight walls are all but worthless to shelter
us through life. An examination is looked upon with
the same feeling of disgust by the highest and by the
lowest kinds of men; by those who can bring forth of
their own, and by those who are too helpless even to
be able to adopt the offspring of others; by the most




original, and by the most inert of mapkind. The latter cannot reach even the low level which the passing
of an examination shows to have been attained. The
former cannot stop where he gets only such little peeps
at the land. The mighty strides of the brilliant man
soon outstrip the utmost speed of his dull brother. To
the first the examination is less than an end; to the
second it is more. The first sees too much, the second
too little, to show to the best advantage before the
examiners.
It is, then, plain that examinations are chiefly fitted
for the middling sort of minds. And so they ought
to be. For this kind is so far the most numerous, that
it swells into the most useful class of men. These are
nature's petted nurslings. A natural selection has set
them apart. The judgment of a Board of Examiners
is for them enough to fix their relative places as long
as they live. They are not fit to appeal to the higher
tribunal of mankind at large. And they therefore
need not such a lofty judge. They have fellowship,
with men like unto themselves, marked with the same
brand, and thereby warranted genuine-of their kind.
Still, even the keenest of these men must beware, lest
in their hurry to climb the tree of knowledge, they
lean their ladder on a rotten branch. Let them do
their utmost, they cannot climb to the airy abodes of
the highfliers. So, instead of gazing after them, they




52
had better sink their small eyes to see that they do
not stumble in their envious haste. They had better
give to understanding their author a little more time
than is barely enough to enable them to write him out
from memory, and to pass uneasily through some stock
examples on his general propositions. Wretched are
they that make haste to be knowing!
This unrighteous scramble is nevertheless undoubtedly seen in the way of reading usually adopted in
Universities. The tutors cut up the text-books into
little bits, and warn the student against swallowing
one here and one there, by marking them with a great
0, meaning omit. Instead of feeding the learners like
men, and teaching them to trust to the strength of
their own jaws, in chewing what is. cooked for them
by their brother men, they take a deal of pains to
nourish them like children, and starve them after all.
It is not as if those who go to a university had only
sucking minds. They have been at their food for
years, in the infants' school, in the boys' school, and
some of them even in the men's school, which is the
world. Why, then, are they to be deprived of their
knives and forks, and fed upon mincemeat? It is because the passages marked to be omitted were not
written merely to be got up. They might for all that
contain matter very worthy to be read. And can it
be doubted that we are more likely to gain by look



53
ing on a book as a whole, agreeably to the aim of the
author, than by allowing our mind to be pulled in two
ways, for two ends: the one, that of the tutor; the
other, that of the man who made the book.
To this it may be reasonably answered, that the
text-books of Universities are, in the main, written by
other tutors, who made them by dismembering other
men's books just as their own are now being torn
asunder; that such clippings have no title to be always left in the same places among their fellowscraps; that as they are more like a sickly, outlandish
hash than a whole and wholesome joint, they neither
need to be used as a good dish ought, nor are they
worthy of such usage.
All this is quite true. These books are valuable
aids toward passing well through a competitive examination, but are utterly worthless to any man who
aims higher. Let it not be deemed that I am seeking
too early to disparage the fiery rage of the present
day for examinations. I believe them to be very
well fitted for what they are meant to do. Otherwise I should not take the trouble to say a word
against them. When I warn the student that the
way of reading, which insures him a high place in a
competitive examination, is not by any means the best
way, let him bear in mind that I herein look toward
the training of the man, and not merely of the prize



54
man, who is just as singular a monster among men as
the prize-pig is among swine.
The greatest praise is due to examinations in that
they try men by a fixed standard; and what is tested
is found in every man of ordinary ability, and found
to such an extent that he can train it up and show it
forth, if he likes. But, of course, the more unchangeable the test of what is proved in examination, the
less is the worth in each man of what can be tried in
such a way. Fverybody now looks at the examination-room as a sort of intellectual mint. This has not
long been so. Too much value is thus assigned to
the coin. This will right itself in time. Remember
that the worth of money has steadily lessened, while
that of other things has become greater. The most
valuable articles are the most variable in price. The
worthiest of all have no money value.
-VI. THE SUFFERERS WE HAVE HITHERTO MET
WERE VICTIMS OF DISEASE IN THE REGION OF THE
HEAD.  THOSE TO WHOM WE ARE NOW ABOUT TO
BE LED ARE AFFLICTED IN THE REALM  OF THE
HEART.
They are much worthier of our fellow-feeling, and
their sufferings are much more grievous. Can anything call more loudly for our pity than the case of a
man of a generous turn of mind, and no mean ability,
taking a great liking to ideas which he- has not under.




55
stood, linked in propositions that he has not known,
and carried out in deeds that cannot gain for him
wisdom?  Yet, place him  beside another who is
filled with the most beautiful affections, but at last
fails by not allowing them to force him into action.
Or compare him with another who is strong in deeds,
but acts on no fixed plan, like one who wearies himself
by tossing about his legs and arms in the dark.
Surely these cases call for our pity not much less
loudly than the first. The pains of each are sharper
when his disease is got by reading, for the knowledge
that is thereby made over to the learner is of the most
useless kind, being dribbled through signs, not flowing straight from the things themselves. And even
if the reader has formed a correct idea of the things
signified, too much activity makes him the frailest of
mortals, one who knowingly gives his whole strength
to feed the offspring of another's brain. This excess
of activity might follow from either of two opposite
beginnings. He may have been driven out of the
middle way by an overpowering bias; or, feeling bitterly the want of any bias, he may have wrongly
sought it in deeds, when he would have found it in
thoughts. Howsoever the overweight of deeds arises,
the man wastes himself away without leaving behind
him anything that will last. The wear and tear that




grinds him down is also untimely. He suffers all the
wretchedness of an unripe old age. His pains are
owing to his not having found out how he is enthralled. Not knowing how he is shut in, he is ever
knocking his head against the walls. Having already
frittered away his strength, he is still more weakened
by these sad bursts. The highest architectural skill
is then given to raising towers in the sand. The
loftiest insight is busied in finding birds' nests. A
life, which might have left its mark upon mankind, is
worn away in an endless treading of his narrow cell.
In short the man is mad.
VII. THE CASE OF A MAN WHO FAILS IN THE USE
OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF DEEDS, A PROBLEM MUCH
MORE DIFFICULT THAN THE USE OF THE KNOWLEDGE
OF THOUGHT.
If there is more wisdom than we can make into a
part of ourselves it is wasted in the draught, if less we
are starved. What signifies it whether we have too
many rules of conduct or too few? In the one case
we go wrong from losing ourselves in the crowd. In
the other we are ever going astray because it happens
that among the small number of roads we have discovered, none leads to what we seek. No single author
can fit us out against all kinds of luck; nor is he of




57
much use to us if he is seldom our guide. The only
way in which it is likely that we can outrun all these
besetting ills, is by a painstaking journey through the
first three Stages of Reading.
Then again, as to forming an opinion of an author
and uttering it, which is criticism; there is no author
without his bad as well as his good qualities. But it
is a great mistake to strain our eyes by keeping them
too long fixed either on the one or on the other. A
fair number of good points may be kindly dwelt upon,
and a few bad ones gently held up as a warning.
Either without the other is not enough.
The man who does not find out the mistakes and
blunders, is he whose latest opinion is that of the last
author he has read. To-day he is warm on one side,
to-morrow on the other. No one pays any heed to
him in either case. They know that his ways are not
his own, and are ever shifting. To his advice they
give no ear. He has no weight with his fellow-men.
The other, who has no eye for loveliness, is your shallow, sneering unbeliever. His spirit hunts up doubts
and denials. It loathes what is, save only such scraps
of waste food as are barely enough to keep body and
soul together; for who can subsist merely on what is
not? Ile forgets that to bring forward evil is not our
chief duty here, though it is of the easiest, for the bad




58
is manifold, where the good is one. He forgets that
we ought to turn the eyes toward that quality which
outweighs the others, for it is thereby the thing is best
kno"wn. In straining our sight to look for the subordinate, we learn to overlook the chief. This is most
hurt-ful to the study of the real. By this way of leaving the more serious qualities for the merest trifles, we
are landed among nervousness, low spirits, pedantry,
and a -whole host of mean ills flowing from an exaggerated attention to littleness. Before. a critic opens his
mouth to speak evil, let him ask himself this: which
of the two, good or evil, herein overweighs the other?
If the good overbalances, let him hold his tongue
about the bad, until he has shown us of the good, at
least as much as he intends to tell us of the evil. If
the bad predominates, let him, before uncovering it,
teach us what it ought to have been.' This is the best
way.to make the faults plain. The study of evil has
no foundation, save in the study of good. How do
we teach any branch of knowledge?  Not beginning
with the blunders which accompanied its growth, but
by founding on the purest good it embraces.
Let not the querulous showman of the bad plume
himself on his skill in finding it out, as a proof of any
Wonderful cleverness.  It is more often owing to his
own fitness and liking for the same. The spots on the




59
sun can only be seen through darkened glasses. When
therefore we meet with any man who is clearly mastered by a desire to find fault, we are warranted in
setting down that man as being himself, to say the
least, a bad speaker or a bad writer, and we must listen
to the good before we give ear to him. If we were
guided by him, we should be greatly misled.
VIII. I have now touched lightly upon the simplest
of the diseases which come under the common head
of a bad way of reading. These have been such as
arose from too much, or too little, or none at all of the
weightiest marks of the four great stages of study.
We must now call to mind that those qualities which
distinguishl the four periods only overweigh the others,
but are not exclusive of them; nay, even, are never
found without their opposites. Hence arises a numerous brood of ills.  Of these the most common and the
worst is that way of reading in which the whole four chief
eld.s are aimed at in one and the same single and only
perusal. The mere naming of this case is enough-to
show how bad it is, almost so bad that we can scarcely
understand how any man in his senses could allow
himself to get into such a state. And yet this is what
the greater number of readers are doing all along,
throughout the whole of their lives.'Those who are




60
most misled ever seek the new. Those who suffer
from a less poisonous form of the plague sometimes
read two or more books on the same subject. As each
of these works is read in the worst way, it is clear that
although we get a little less than if the contents were
unlike, we cannot get nearly as much good as by reading one of them in THE BEST WAY.
I have said enough to open the eyes of all to the
knowledge that there is a good and an evil in reading.
I have shown enough to persuade every man of sense
to seek safety in THE BEST WAY, the only way to flee
from the shocking evils pointed out.
Now comes the word of parting.  I thank thee,
reader, for the gracious hearing thou hast vouchsafed.
If I know thee not, at least thou knowest now somewhat of me; and I trust thou art fully persuaded that
my aim in speaking with thee has been single toward
thy good. I have warned thee of the perils of reading.
And I have forearmed as well as forewarned thee.
Reading is far from being the highest function of a
man. I would earnestly bid thee beware, lest thou torment thyself with too much reading, which is a weariness of the heart and of the brain. Books are only
aids for weaklings after all. They are spectacles for
the eyes of those that need them. The strong-sighted
man sees better with his: naked eye. Three books




alone there are that every one must ever study. They
are those of nature, man and God.  Give to the reading of these thy whole body, mind and soul.  They
are the only ones written in such a blessed style that
he who runs may read.
Du musst steigen oder sinken,
Du musst herrschen und gewinnen,
Oder dienen und verlieren,
Leiden oder triumphiren,
Amboss oder Hammer sein. —GOETHE.








:s
ta%








"Quando omnes loquuntur et deliberant, optimum A mutis
et mortuis es consilium. Holnines quoque, si taceant, vocem
invenient libri, et qu.e nemo dicit, prudens suggerit antiquitas."-Inscriptio Guelferbylance Bibliotheca.
I must confess I love old Books!
The dearest, too, perhaps most dearly;
Thick, clumpy tomes, of antique looks,
In pigskin covers fashioned queerly.
Clasped, chained or thonged, stamped quaintly too,
With figures wondrous strange, or holy
Men and women, and cherubs, few
Might well from owls distinguish duly.
I love black-letter books that saw
The light of day at least three hundred
Long years ago; and look with awe
On works that live, so often plundered.




I love the sacred dust the more
It clings to ancient lore, enshrining
Thoughts of the dead, renowned of yore,
Embalmed in books; for age declining.
Fit solace, food, and friends most sure
To have around one, always handy,
When sinking spirits find no cure,
In news, election brawls or brandy.
In these old books, more soothing far
Than balm of Gilead or NepenthU,
I seek an antidote for careOf which, most men indeed have plenty
"Five hundred times at least," I've saidMy wife assures me-" I would never
Buy more old books;" yet lists are made,
And shelves are lumbered mlore than ever.
Ah! that our wives could only see
How well the money is invested
In these old books, which seem to be
By them, alas! so much detested.
There's nothing hath enduring youth,
Eternal newness, strength unfailing,
Except old books, old friends, old truth,
That's ever battling-still prevailing.




67'Tis better in the past to live,
Than grovel in the present vilely,
In clubs, and cliques, where placelnen hive,
And faction humls, and dolts rank highly.
To be enlightened, counseled, led,
By master minds of former ages,
Comle to old books-consult the deadCommune with silent saints and sages.
Leave me, ye gods! to my old booksPolemics yield to sects that wrangleVile "parish politics" to folks
Who love to squabble, scheme and jangle.
Dearly beloved old pigskin tomes!
Of dingy hue-old bookish darlings!
Oh, cluster ever round my rooms,
And banish strifes, disputes and snarlings.




















"Talk of the happiness of getting a great prize
in a lottery    What is that to the opening of a
BOX  OF BOOKS!  The joy upon lifting up the
cover must be something like what we shall feel,
when Peter the porter opens the door up-stairs and
says,'Please to walk in, sir.' "-SouTHE~Y-Letter
to Coleridge.