Of all the amusements which can possible be imagined for a hard-working man, after his day’s toil, there is nothing like reading an entertaining book. It calls for no bodily exertion of which he has had enough. It relieves his home of its dullness. It transports him to lovelier and more interesting scenes; and while he enjoys these, he may forget the evils of the present moment. Nay, it accompanies him to his day’s work, and if the book he has been reading be anything above the very idlest and lightest, it gives him something to think about during the drudgery of his everyday occupation. If I were to pray for a taste which should stand me in good stead under every variety of circumstances and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness through life, it would be a taste for reading. Give a man this taste and the means of gratifying it, and you will never fail to make him happy, unless indeed you put into his hands the most perverse selection of books. You place him with the best society in every period of history, with the wisest, the wittiest, the tenders, the bravest and the purest characters which have adorned humanity. You make him a citizen of all nations, a contemporary of all ages.