that mental attitude which marks the truly civilized man.

Lay aside the "literary organ," which appears once a week, and take up
the newspaper, which comes forth every day, morning and evening. Here
you get the true proportion of things. Read your daily news-sheet--that
which costs threepence or that which costs a halfpenny--and muse upon the
impression it leaves. It may be that a few books are "noticed"; granting
that the "notice" is in any way noticeable, compare the space it occupies
with that devoted to the material interests of life: you have a gauge of
the real importance of intellectual endeavour to the people at large. No,
the public which reads, in any sense of the word worth considering, is
very, very small; the public which would feel no lack if all
book-printing ceased to-morrow, is enormous. These announcements of
learned works which strike one as so encouraging, are addressed, as a
matter of fact, to a few thousand persons, scattered all over the English-
speaking world. Many of the most valuable books slowly achieve the sale
of a few hundred copies. Gather from all the ends of the British Empire
the men and women who purchase grave literature as a matter of course,
who habitually seek it in public libraries, in short who regard it as a
necessity of life, and I am much mistaken if they could not comfortably
assemble in the Albert Hall.

But even granting this, is it not an obvious fact that our age tends to
the civilized habit of mind, as displayed in a love for intellectual
things? Was there ever a time which saw the literature of knowledge and
of the emotions so widely distributed? Does not the minority of the
truly intelligent exercise a vast and profound influence? Does it not in
truth lead the way, however slowly and irregularly the multitude may
follow?