s on the lawn,
There's a hush of death about me,
And a whisper, "He is gone!"

CXXXVII. A DEFINITE AIM IN READING. (457)

Noah Porter, 1811-1892, was born at Farmington, Conn., and graduated at
Yale in 1831. He remained in New Haven as a school-teacher, a tutor in
college, and a student in the theological department until 1836, when he
entered the ministry. In 1846 he was recalled to the college as Clark
Professor of Moral Philosophy and Metaphysics; and in 1858 he also assumed
the duties of the professorship of Systematic Theology, for a period of
seven years. Upon the retirement of President Woolsey in 1871, he was
elected to fill the office, which he held until 1886, being the eleventh
president of the college.

President Porter's greatest literary work is entitled, "The Human
Intellect: With an Introduction upon Psychology and the Human Soul." It is
remarkable for the clear thought and sound judgment it displays, as well
as for its broad scholarship; and it has been pronounced "the most
complete and exhaustive exhibition of the cognitive faculties of the human
soul to be found in our language." His other important works are: "The
Sciences of Nature versus the Science of Man," which is a review of the
doctrines of Herbert Spencer; "American Colleges and the American Public;"
and the book from which the following selection is taken, namely, "Books
and Reading." Besides these he wrote numerous essays, contributions to
periodicals, etc. During his professorship he was called upon to act as
chief editor in the important work of revising "Webster's Dictionary." The
edition of 1864 was the result of his careful oversight, and the
subsequent revisions were also under his superintendence.
##

In reading, we do well to propose to ourselves definite ends and purposes.
The more distinctly we are aware of our own wants and desires in reading,
the more definite and permanent will be our acquisitions. Hence it is a
good rule to ask ourselves frequently, "Why am I reading this book, essay,
or poem? or why am I reading it at the present time rather than any
other?" It may often be a satisfying answer, that it is convenient; that
the book happens to be at hand: or that we read to pass away the time.
Such reasons are often very good, but they ought not always to satisfy us.
Yet the very habit of proposing these questions, however they may be
answered, will involve the calling of ourselves to account for our
reading, and t