It is common knowledge that the distinguishing characteristic of the
day is the zeal displayed by us all in hunting after Truth. A really
not inconsiderable portion of whatever time we are able to spare from
making or losing money or reputation, is devoted to this sport, whilst
both reading and conversation are largely impressed into the same
service.

Nor are there wanting those who avow themselves anxious to see this,
their favourite pursuit, raised to the dignity of a national
institution. They would have Truth-hunting established and endowed.

Mr. Carlyle has somewhere described with great humour the 'dreadfully
painful' manner in which Kepler made his celebrated calculations and
discoveries; but our young men of talent fail to see the joke, and
take no pleasure in such anecdotes. Truth, they feel, is not to be had
from them on any such terms. And why should it be? Is it not notorious
that all who are lucky enough to supply wants grow rapidly and
enormously rich; and is not Truth a now recognised want in ten
thousand homes--wherever, indeed, persons are to be found wealthy
enough to pay Mr. Mudie a guinea and so far literate as to be able to
read? What, save the modesty, is there surprising in the demand now
made on behalf of some young people, whose means are incommensurate
with their talents, that they should be allowed, as a reward for
doling out monthly or quarterly portions of truth, to live in houses
rent-free, have their meals for nothing, and a trifle of money
besides? Would Bass consent to supply us with beer in return for board
and lodging, we of course defraying the actual cost of his brewery,
and allowing him some L300 a year for himself? Who, as he read about
'Sun-spots,' or 'Fresh Facts for Darwin,' or the 'True History of