lar
cut off from the privilege of reading. Milton has given us in his famous
invocation to Light, with which he opens the third book of "Paradise
Lost," a picture of his own deprivation, presented with a universal
blank in place of Nature's fair book of knowledge. The passage is too
long to quote here, but let the reader turn to it, if only to refresh
his memory.

This shows the privilege that we are now enjoying, and it may perhaps be
sufficient to take our lesson at this point; but since it is always
pleasanter to consider gain rather than loss, suppose we turn the
subject around and imagine how it would seem if, after having been
deprived all our lives of the privilege of reading, we suddenly had it
thrust upon us. We should now find ourselves able to enjoy those
wonderful works of literature which we had always been hearing about
from the lips of others, but had never been able to know directly. How
we should revel in the prospect before us! At last to be able to read
the "Iliad"! To follow the fortunes of wandering Ulysses! To accompany
Dante in his mystical journey through the three worlds! To dare with
Macbeth and to doubt with Hamlet! Our trouble would be that we should
not know which to select first. We should wish we had the eyes of an
insect that we might read them all at once.

We have a familiar expression in taking leave of our friends, "Be good
to yourself!" which, it will be seen, is the modern man's translation of
the old "farewell," with the truly modern implication that the question
of his faring well will depend upon himself. But can we call a man good
to himself who does not avail himself of advantages that are freely open
to him and that others about him are embracing? The great men of the
past have been such because to their natural abilities they added an
acquaintance with the thought of the great men who preceded them. The
same is true of the men whom we are glad to honor among our
contemporaries. We may feel very sure that we are not heaven-descended
geniuses, or even possessed of unusual talent; and yet, if we do not
give ourselves the advantages that all those had who have won
distinction, we have certainly not given ourselves a fair chance to show
what is in us. Therefore, as a duty to ourselves, we must make the
acquaintance of the books that the common judgment of the world has
pronounced to be of the most value. They must become more than names to
us. We may not indeed find in all of th