a better notion
of ancient Greek life than any other book in existence. Ruskin, who had
an unerring instinct for good literature, got two of his disciples to
put the book into English, himself furnishing a preface of
characteristic insight and brilliancy. He might well do such homage to
the old Greek soldier, for the _Economist_ contains teaching remarkably
like what is to be found in certain of the chapters of _Unto This Last_.
A reader cannot fail to be struck by the wonderful modernness of
Xenophon's writing, his love for the country, his simple and genuine
piety, his soldierly directness, and his practical common sense. Here is
a delightful sidelight on Greek family life, written twenty-three
centuries ago, but which might have been spoken yesterday: "_My wife_,"
says one of the characters, "_often puts me on trial and takes me to
task--When I am candid and tell her everything, I get on well enough,
but if I hide or disguise anything, it goes hard with me, for I cannot
make black seem white to her._"

The _Economist_ is an ideal volume for the country calm: it will not
deliver up its best to you in the city; but if it is leisurely perused
while hayrick fragrances are in the air, while butterflies are
fluttering round the lawns, and while the flow of a clear-gushing brook
chimes with your fancy and the quiet tone of the old Greek's musings,
then (be sure) the mellow sweetness of the "Attic Bee" will be
adequately enjoyed.

It is a great pity that life is so short, that there are only
twenty-four hours in the day, and that, owing to the general scarcity of
money among the intellectual portion of the community, the possession of
free-will is a pathetic fallacy. Nobody, in these bonds of time and
space, can do precisely what he would like to do. Mr. T. P. O'Connor
once said that, if he were master of his fate, and his feet in every way
clear, he would at once proceed to Athens and learn Greek. I can
conceive no keener or greater joy than that: it is the wish of a genuine
lover of letters. At the age of ten, I came upon an old copy of Pope's
_Homer_, and have been in love with Greek literature ever since. The
cares of this world, including rates and taxes, prevent me likewise from
proceeding to the City of the Violet Crown, but there are plenty of
cheap copies of Homer to be had in Scotland, and it is no disadvantage
that some of them have the translation printed on the opposite page.

So many things have to be learne