hat will go off by itself and
kill at forty paces. Indeed, it is difficult to imagine the mental
state of the man who, after reading Hazlitt's essay, is not urgently
desirous of reading some poetry before his next meal. If the essay so
inspires you I would suggest that you make a commencement with purely
narrative poetry.

There is an infinitely finer English novel, written by a woman, than
anything by George Eliot or the Brontes, or even Jane Austen, which
perhaps you have not read. Its title is "Aurora Leigh," and its author
E.B. Browning. It happens to be written in verse, and to contain a
considerable amount of genuinely fine poetry. Decide to read that book
through, even if you die for it. Forget that it is fine poetry. Read
it simply for the story and the social ideas. And when you have done,
ask yourself honestly whether you still dislike poetry. I have known
more than one person to whom "Aurora Leigh" has been the means of
proving that in assuming they hated poetry they were entirely mistaken.

Of course, if, after Hazlitt, and such an experiment made in the light
of Hazlitt, you are finally assured that there is something in you
which is antagonistic to poetry, you must be content with history or
philosophy. I shall regret it, yet not inconsolably. "The Decline and
Fall" is not to be named in the same day with "Paradise Lost," but it
is a vastly pretty thing; and Herbert Spencer's "First Principles"
simply laughs at the claims of poetry and refuses to be accepted as
aught but the most majestic product of any human mind. I do not
suggest that either of these works is suitable for a tyro in mental
strains. But I see no reason why any man of average intelligence
should not, after a year of continuous reading, be fit to assault the
supreme masterpieces of history or philosophy. The great convenience
of masterpieces is that they are so astonishingly lucid.

I suggest no particular work as a start. The attempt would be futile
in the space of my command. But I have two general suggestions of a
certain importance. The first is to define the direction and scope of
your efforts. Choose a limited period, or a limited subject, or a
single author. Say to yourself: "I will know something about the
French Revolution, or the rise of railways, or the works of John
Keats." And during a given period, to be settled beforehand, confine
yourself to your choice. There is much pleasure to be derived from
being a spe