standard of thinking, since it is the only rational basis for a free
government. Thus it is as much your duty properly to nourish your brain as
to give proper care to the body.

In the rigid economy of modern life we should use extreme care in the
selection of our reading. Our best interests demand more of us than a
gormandizing of newspapers or ephemeral reading of any kind. Far be it
from me to disparage that great organ of the times--the newspaper, which
is a source of keen delight and benefit to us all, and almost the only
source of instruction to thousands of the race. But we should be judicious
in this, and not allow transitional matter to monopolize our time. "Read
not the times, read the eternities," cried Thoreau. The shelves of our
home and public libraries are filled with priceless volumes yet unread by
us. And he who is not cultivating a taste for good wholesome reading is
missing one of the highest enjoyments of life as well as minimizing his
chances for success. We should ever be exploring new regions of thought.
And in the extreme activity of this electric age we shall be obliged to
take snap shots at our reading--on the street car, in the lunch room,
anywhere we find it possible to peruse a single page.

If we look into the lives of some of the illustrious ones we shall find
that they obtained knowledge under the greatest disadvantages. We see
Lincoln reading his favorite volumes by the dim light of a pineknot blaze;
or Burritt poring over his books at the forge; or Garfield gazing intently
at the pages while riding a mule on the banks of a canal. Wesley likewise
diligently searched the Scriptures while riding horseback over the
country; William Cobbett learned grammar while a common soldier on the
march; and we are told that Alexander the Great, each night on retiring,
would place his favorite book, the "Iliad," under his pillow and during
his waking moments would peruse its pages.