simply wound in a sheet; sometimes, in either case,
she is like the Dowager whose outline Mr. Mantalini described as
"dem'd"). All these--and many others--are the traditions of the cheap
photography.

Nobody, apparently, is so unattractive, nobody so poor, nobody wears
such queer clothes, nobody is so old, or faded, or fat, or "skinny," or
short, or tall, or black, or bow-legged, or so anything at all, that he
or she won't pose for a photograph. So that it may reasonably be said,
that to have lost the instinct to have one's "picture taken" is to have
lost the love of life. Nobody, no doubt, but is interesting to
somebody. And, as Stevenson has said, can any one be regarded as
useless so long as he has a friend?

And when--brother--at length, one has withdrawn forevermore from the
tawdry stage of the cheap photographer's, a last view is taken of one,
as it were, in the grave. Side by side at the cheap photographer's
with the naked baby and with the bride and groom--is the "floral
emblem."

XXII

READING AFTER THIRTY

Somewhere in the mass of that splendid, highly personal journalism of
his, William Hazlitt declares that he was never able to read a book
through after thirty. That penetrating man, Samuel Butler, reflecting
in his "Note-Books" on "What Audience to Write For," says: "People
between the ages of twenty and thirty read a good deal, after thirty
their reading drops off and by forty is confined to each person's
special subject, newspapers and magazines." Thirty again, you see.

We all have friends who have been omniverous readers, persons who, to
our admiration and despair, seem to have read everything in
"literature." It may have struck us, however, as a curious thing that,
except possibly in rare instances, such persons appear not to read much
now, beyond newspapers and magazines. The upshot of what they are able
to say, when you ask them why this is true, is that one simply reaches
a time of life when one "quits reading," as one ceases to dance, or
cools in interest toward the latest fashions in overcoats.

But, undoubtedly there are persons who continue to read, apparently
with unabated industry and zest, no matter how old they may become.
Dr. Johnson, of course, was a constant reader all his life, and would
cheerfully read anything whether it was readable or not. Though did
not he somewhere confess to himself that he did not read things
through? Mr. Huneker, who is well on the rich