sistently regarded as transient, or meteoric, lights in the more immediate fictional firmament. Let the reader, then, bear well in mind the distinctions thus drawn, and consider their significance and relative purport. Next, let him take into consideration the names and more widely known and well-established fame and works of the following list of authors of a prior age or period, and inquire within himself whether, after all, it is not a waste of time and energy to trouble and worry or continually to "keep pace" with purely modern fictional exactions and requirements, or to so much as attempt to read every advertised book that is thrust upon the fictional market!

Contrast the first group with the following:

AUTHORS AND MASTERS OF A PRIOR GENERATION:

Nathaniel Hawthorne, Washington Irving, Sir Walter Scott, Charles Dickens, William Makepeace Thackeray, Fenimore Cooper, Bulwer Lytton, Harriet Martineau, Charles Kingsley, Anthony Trollope, Hannah Moore, Mrs. Gaskell, Miss Alcott, George Eliot, Maria Edgeworth, Charles Lever, Samuel Lover, Wilkie Collins, Charles Reade, Captain Marryat, Jane Porter, Alexander Dumas, Edgar Allen Poe, R. D. Blackmore, Charlotte M. Yonge, William Black, Thomas Hughes, Samuel Warren, Lord Beaconsfield, Miss Mulock,

and Rev. William Ware.

Here we have an infinitely varied, and a sufficiently intelligible and embracive, list and group of writers and authors, whose names and works and varied gifts and talents were peculiar and unique in their respective spheres of usefulness and attainment, and who, for the most part, devoted their lives and labors to the great human cause and purpose; whose illuminative shafts and rays of intellectual insight, character-renderings, and introspections did so much to enlighten the human mind, to advance the human cause, and to kindle and awaken the public conscience; and whose books were almost invariably, each of its kind and in its essence,

masterpieces of literary perfection and of truthful, vivid portrayal.

How, now, do our more "modern" writers compare with these earlier ones? How many, or how few? And why so few-if any? We will presume to give the answer: Because, forsooth, those men and women wrote and wrought, mostly, with manifest purpose, subject to exalted promptings, and with distinct and worthy human objectiveness. Their ideals were exalted, their intellects refined, their convictions were fervent and profound, their views and opinions explicit and advanced, their gifts and endowments original and embracive, their learning thorough, their parts solid, and their motives obvious. Their books and works were, accordingly, at once elevating and impressive, and must always prove so. It necessarily follows, therefore, that the reader who has been accustomed to resort to such fountain sources for diversion and solace can hardly have the patience to peruse the endless pages and chapters of the modern herd of literary innovators and adventurers, since it is too like being invited to a feast of herbs and curds to be pestered into a perusal of the sentimental rubbish and mock-heroics which mostly go to the compound of modern fictional literature. True, one does occasionally discover, with immense relief and relish, indications of exceptional talent and loyalty of purpose on the part of this or that modern author-in such instances as the books and works of George Macdonald, Sir Walter Besant, Stanley Weyman, "Ik Marvel," Mrs. Humphry Ward, George Meredith, and a few others, afford.

Why then, O reader, should you be in such a constant fever to pursue every flitting ignis fatuus? or so frantically to clutch at the vain shadows and imaginings of every hysterical romancer and shekel-hunter who chances, for the moment, to tickle the morbid fancies or to gratify the disordered tastes of professional reviewers and incompetent critics? Better, by far, confine your attention to the writings of standard authors, and to put restraint upon yourself in literary

relation. Read more, and do not simply skim over or peek into an infinitude of pretentious stuff and nonsense, merely because it is the common practice and a fondly-fancied social requirement to profess an acquaintance with the name and book of every novelist who happens to be the momentary “rage." For if you really want light and consolation, go where it is to be found; you will find both in the books and works of the standard authors.

Be not content with mere sham-light and magpie chatter. Why heed the promptings and assurances of mere gadfly reviewers and interested publishers? It is but lost labor and a grievous waste of energy to so much as attempt to keep pace with and gratify the inordinate and maddening requirements, vagaries, and humors of our distracted and disordered generation and civilization, or to search for even crumbs of comfort, to say nothing of "precious gems," amid the dust and litter and jigumbob figment of the common herd of present-day novel writers. In vain will all your gropings and grubbing, and catches and snatches, and stumblings and fumblings, prove in such an ill and bootless quest.

On the other hand, if you really want to be improved, exalted, edified, stimulated, consoled, cheered, and fortified, and to be afforded genuine standards by which to direct and govern your life and conduct-in so far as literary sources. and mediums avail to that end and influence one's mind and character-in effect, if you are in search of pearls and precious gems, not of plaster and gilt; of silk, not fustian; of tweed, not shoddy-then go direct to the masters, not to common hucksters and charlatans! The greatest social evil of the hour-the most mischievous factor of common disordersas it seems to us, consists in the pernicious tendency of our people to incline their ears to the brayings of every pretentious literary humbug and newspaper-puffed scribe and pharisee who has the presumption to give vent to his immature and erratic views and opinions on the public platform or else in book or pamphlet form!

But this proneness of the public mind to give too willing heed to the vaporings and outcry of mere scribblers and self-constituted social reformers is not merely confined to innovations and extravagances of this nature, since hardly less mischievous is the public tendency to excessive indulgence in the way of newspaper, or "yellow journal," patron. age! Such papers, for instance, as many of our Sunday journals are bought greedily and without a moment's consideration of the cost of such indulgence, and they are accordingly spread broadcast throughout the country like so many tares and Canada thistles. Now such periodicals as these are the most perverting and pestiferous agencies and factors of social disorder and common mischief. They not only pollute the public taste and morals but utterly disturb and reduce to comparative impotency the minds and capacities of those who buy and read them, or so confuse and confound the understandings and professed "intelligence" of their patrons as to render it almost impossible for them to form rational or well-considered conclusions of any kind. For while such journals profess to treat of every subject of human interest and to embrace the whole earth's compass in their range of review, report, chronicle, and citation, they do not treat intelligently and adequately of any single subject: they merely prompt, exaggerate, excite, depict, inflame the imaginations, and pander to the prejudices, follies, and passions of their readers; while so chaotic and distracting are they, for the most part, in their presentation and bearings, as to positively unhinge and subvert the minds and morals of the multitude. The American people, as has been already observed in one of our series of papers on this subject, have neither the time nor the inclination to do more than to superficially glance at the illustrative features and pages of our magazines and newspapers-hence the prevalence of the yellow sheet and of the cheaper and nastier kinds of periodicals.

People have not the time, because they have not the in

in a

clination to take the time, to read serious and wholesome literature. Now this is all wrong. How infinitely better were it, and how much more would it redound to our advantage and to all human advantage, were we to resolve to confine our " reading" to purer literary channels, or, word, to take less papers, to draw fewer novels from our circulating libraries, and in place of these to buy and really read books and magazines of a worthier and more improving kind and order! Instead of taking two or three storymagazines," to buy one genuine magazine; instead of buying two or three or half a dozen penny newspapers, to buy only one reliable daily paper, and perhaps a single weekly besides; instead of drawing "popular novels" from the free library, to buy standard works for ourselves, whereby to improve our own and our families' minds, and at the same time to supply ourselves with private libraries. By this means we should not only economize our resources but regulate our minds, fortify our wills, and adorn our homes. We should be the better, the happier, the wiser, and the more What we most stand in need prosperous, by doing so. of, as a nation, is more thoroughness, restfulness, and reflection.

In view of such volunteered remarks as these, it may not perhaps be deemed presumptive on our part in like manner to offer a few words of advice and counsel in regard to the selection of a family library by any uninitiated paterfamilias who has had the patience to heed our comments and to forbear strongly-expressed exception taken thereto, and who may feel disposed to entertain the home library suggestion. We would accordingly proffer the following list of names of such authors as we most favor in such connection. Or, better still, perhaps, we will volunteer three lists, from which the prospective purchaser of a home library may select with advantage for both his own and his family's requirements and advantage.