and heaven; it speaks to the philosopher in his solitude, and to the
crowd in the market-place. Curious pursuits of the mind at leisure are
represented in publications numberless; trifles and oddities of
intellectual savour; gatherings from every byway of human interest. For
other moods there are the fabulists; to tell truth, they commonly hold
the place of honour in these varied lists. Who shall count them? Who
shall calculate their readers? Builders of verse are many; yet the
observer will note that contemporary poets have but an inconspicuous
standing in this index of the public taste. Travel, on the other hand,
is largely represented; the general appetite for information about lands
remote would appear to be only less keen than for the adventures of
romance.

With these pages before one's eyes, must one not needs believe that
things of the mind are a prime concern of our day? Who are the
purchasers of these volumes ever pouring from the press? How is it
possible for so great a commerce to flourish save as a consequence of
national eagerness in this intellectual domain? Surely one must take for
granted that throughout the land, in town and country, private libraries
are growing apace; that by the people at large a great deal of time is
devoted to reading; that literary ambition is one of the commonest spurs
to effort?

It is the truth. All this may be said of contemporary England. But is
it enough to set one's mind at ease regarding the outlook of our
civilization?

Two things must be remembered. However considerable this literary
traffic, regarded by itself, it is relatively of small extent. And, in
the second place, literary activity is by no means an invariable proof of