The writer once had the pleasure of meeting a man—an elderly person, a prosperous farmer, who boasted firmly though not blatantly that he had never in all his life! read a book. How this miracle of literary abstention came to pass was never explained. His only admission was that he "Read the noos-papers"; and subsequent conversation. justified the truth of the statement. He regarded _libaries as so much lumber; of far less practical interest and value than any good, saleable heap of old He simply ignored books, ing himself genially, and very successfully, to the practical world in which he had the obvious happiness to find himself. Though unable to quote the classics, he could at least conscientiously put him name to a nice fat cheque. Could one have induced him to turn author he might have produc: ed an illuminating little volume on. "How to be Happy Though Illiterate!"
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.