lay upon it. What will it be like?
What treasures lie concealed in it? What delights has it in store for
us? In our curiosity we are like the boy in Mr. Pinero's farcical
comedy: 'It is the 'orrible uncertainty wot we craves after.' No one can
tell what may nestle in the recesses of new leaves. Not even in
reference to well-known writers can we be positively sure. They may
belie their reputation. The illustrious Smith may make a failure; the
obscurer Brown may score a hit. For once in a way Robinson may have
produced something we can read; to everybody's surprise, the great Jones
has dropped into the direst twaddle. And if this uncertainty exists in
respect to those we know, how much more auspicious is it in the case of
those who are quite new to us? What gems of purest ray serene may repose
within the pages of the unopened book before us!

And, talking of unopened books, how much of the pleasure we derive from
newly-published volumes lies in the process by which we first make their
acquaintance. There are those who would have all books issued with the
edges of the pages cut. The reasons why are obvious. To begin with, some
labour is thereby saved to the purchaser; a certain measure of time,
too, is saved. The reviewer, who has no moments to spare, may
anathematize the leaves he has to separate with the paper-knife; the
traveller by rail may condemn to Hades the producers of the work which
he cannot cut open--because he has not the wherewithal about him.
Everywhere there are eager and hasty readers who chafe at the delay
which an uncut book imposes upon their impatient spirit. On the other
hand, your genuine book-adorer, your enthusiast, who loves to extract
from a volume all which it is capable of yielding, cannot but approve a
habit which enables him to linger delightedly over his new possession.
What special sweets may not be hidden within just those very pages which
are at present closed to him! _Omne ignotum_ is, for him, _pro
magnifico_--here may be the very cream of the cream. And so the adorer
dallies with his prize. First he peeps within the leaves, and gleans a
sentence here and there. And then he begins to use the cutter--slowly,
slowly--dwelling with enraptured tardiness upon each page which he
reveals.

Who shall say that new leaves have no drawbacks? Verily, they have them.
It cannot be supposed, for instance, that they are always wholly
acceptable to the aforesaid professional censor. The reviewer, sitti