that you desire to hear them. Nay; that cannot be so, for the
living people will themselves tell you about passing matters much
better in their writings than in their careless talk. Yet I admit
that this motive does influence you, so far as you prefer those
rapid and ephemeral writings to slow and enduring writings--books,
properly so called. For all books are divisible into two classes,
the books of the hour, and the books of all time. Mark this
distinction--it is not one of quality only. It is not merely the
bad book that does not last, and the good one that does. It is a
distinction of species. There are good books for the hour, and good
ones for all time; bad books for the hour, and bad ones for all
time. I must define the two kinds before I go farther.

The good book of the hour, then,--I do not speak of the bad ones,--
is simply the useful or pleasant talk of some person whom you cannot
otherwise converse with, printed for you. Very useful often,
telling you what you need to know; very pleasant often, as a
sensible friend's present talk would be. These bright accounts of
travels; good-humoured and witty discussions of question; lively or
pathetic story-telling in the form of novel; firm fact-telling, by
the real agents concerned in the events of passing history;--all
these books of the hour, multiplying among us as education becomes
more general, are a peculiar possession of the present age: we
ought to be entirely thankful for them, and entirely ashamed of
ourselves if we make no good use of them. But we make the worst
possible use if we allow them to usurp the place of true books:
for, strictly speaking, they are not books at all, but merely
letters or newspapers in good print. Our friend's letter may be
delightful, or necessary, to-day: whether worth keeping or not, is
to be considered. The newspaper may be entirely proper at breakfast