and dissimilar ideas, it is with
pain that we admit those of the author. But on applying ourselves with a
gentle violence to the perusal of an interesting work, the mind soon
assimilates to the subject; the ancient rabbins advised their young
students to apply themselves to their readings, whether they felt an
inclination or not, because, as they proceeded, they would find their
disposition restored and their curiosity awakened.

Readers may be classed into an infinite number of divisions; but an author
is a solitary being, who, for the same reason he pleases one, must
consequently displease another. To have too exalted a genius is more
prejudicial to his celebrity than to have a moderate one; for we shall
find that the most popular works are not the most profound, but such as
instruct those who require instruction, and charm those who are not too
learned to taste their novelty. Lucilius, the satirist, said, that he did
not write for Persius, for Scipio, and for Rutilius, persons eminent for
their science, but for the Tarentines, the Consentines, and the Sicilians.
Montaigne has complained that he found his readers too learned, or too
ignorant, and that he could only please a middle class, who have just
learning enough to comprehend him. Congreve says, "there is in true beauty
something which vulgar souls cannot admire." Balzac complains bitterly of
readers,--"A period," he cries, "shall have cost us the labour of a day;
we shall have distilled into an essay the essence of our mind; it may be a
finished piece of art; and they think they are indulgent when they
pronounce it to contain some pretty things, and that the style is not
bad!" There is something in exquisite composition which ordinary readers
can never understand.

Authors are vain, but readers are capricious. Some will only read old
books, as if there were no valuable truths to be discovered in modern
publications; while others will only read new books, as if some valuable
truths are not among the old. Some will not read a book, because they are
acquainted with the author; by which the reader may be more injured than
the author: others not only read the book, but would also read the man; by
which the most ingenious author may be injured by the most impertinent
reader.

* * * * *

ON HABITUATING OURSELVES TO AN INDIVIDUAL PURSUIT.

Two things in human life are at continual variance, and without escaping
from the one we must