Now, if a woman can not put her feet up and smoke, how in the name
of heaven, can she seriously read novels? Certainly not sitting bolt
upright, in order to prevent the back of her new gown from rubbing the
chair; certainly not reclining upon a couch or in a hammock. A boy, yet
too young to smoke may properly lie on his stomach on the floor and read
novels, but the mature veteran will fight for his end of the mantel as
for his wife and children. It is physiological necessity, inasmuch as
the blood that would naturally go to the lower extremities, is thus
measurably lessened in quantity and goes instead to the head, where a
state of gentle congestion ensues, exciting the brain cells, setting
free the imagination to roam hand in hand with intelligence under the
spell of the wizard. There may be novel-readers who do not smoke at the
game, but surely they cannot be quite earnest or honest--you had better
put in writing all business agreements with this sort.

* * * * *

No boy can ever hope to become a really great or celebrated novel-reader
who does not begin his apprenticeship under the age of fourteen, and, as
I said before, stick to it as long as he lives. He must learn to scorn
those frivolous, vacillating and purposeless ones who, after beginning
properly, turn aside and whiling away their time on mere history, or
science, or philosophy. In a sense these departments of literature are
useful enough. They enable you often to perceive the most cunning and
profoundly interesting touches in fiction. Then I have no doubt that,
merely as mental exercise, they do some good in keeping the mind in
training for the serious work of novel-reading. I have always been
grateful to Carlyle's "French Revolution," if for nothing more than that
its criss-cross, confusing and impressive dullness enabled me to find