Prince Bismarck, once the arbiter of the world, reads Miss Braddon and
Gaboriau; Professor Huxley, the greatest living biologist, reads
novels wholesale; the grim Moltke read French and English romances;
Macaulay used fairly to revel in the hundreds of stories that he read
till he knew them by heart. With these and a hundred other examples
before us, the humblest and most laborious in the community may
without scruple read the harmless tales of fictitious joys and
sorrows, after they have secured that narrow minute training which
alone gives grasp and security to the intellect.




VI.

PEOPLE WHO ARE "DOWN"


If any one happens to feel ashamed when he notices the far-off
resemblances between the lower animals and man's august self, he will
probably feel the most acute humiliation should he take an occasional
walk through a great rookery, such as that in Richmond Park. The black
cloud of birds sweeps round and round, casting a shadow as it goes;
the air is full of a solemn bass music softened by distance, and the
twirling fleets of strange creatures sail about in answer to obvious
signals. They are an orderly community, subject to recognised law, and
we might take them for the mildest and most amusing of all birds; but
wait, and we shall see something fit to make us think. Far off on the
clear gray sky appears a wavering speck which rises and falls and
sways from side to side in an extraordinary way. Nearer and nearer the