most to show, with such imperfect cunning as I might, until we
unexpectedly reached the best point of view by winding paths. But--
and as also I have heard it said, by men practised in public
address, that hearers are never so much fatigued as by the endeavour
to follow a speaker who gives them no clue to his purpose,--I will
take the slight mask off at once, and tell you plainly that I want
to speak to you about the treasures hidden in books; and about the
way we find them, and the way we lose them. A grave subject, you
will say; and a wide one! Yes; so wide that I shall make no effort
to touch the compass of it. I will try only to bring before you a
few simple thoughts about reading, which press themselves upon me
every day more deeply, as I watch the course of the public mind with
respect to our daily enlarging means of education; and the
answeringly wider spreading on the levels, of the irrigation of
literature.

It happens that I have practically some connexion with schools for
different classes of youth; and I receive many letters from parents
respecting the education of their children. In the mass of these
letters I am always struck by the precedence which the idea of a
"position in life" takes above all other thoughts in the parents'--
more especially in the mothers'--minds. "The education befitting
such and such a STATION IN LIFE"--this is the phrase, this the
object, always. They never seek, as far as I can make out, an
education good in itself; even the conception of abstract rightness
in training rarely seems reached by the writers. But, an education
"which shall keep a good coat on my son's back;--which shall enable
him to ring with confidence the visitors' bell at double-belled
doors; which shall result ultimately in establishment of a double-
belled door to his own house;--in a word, which shall lead to