a moral, and closing with 'Robinson Crusoe,' 'Don
Quixote,' and Plutarch's 'Lives of Illustrious Men.' In the last two
books I took a real and vivid interest, though I now suspect that it
was strictly limited in range. They seemed to open a new world to me,
the world of the past, in which I could see men moving about and doing
the most remarkable things. Both of these books appeared to me equally
historical; I neither doubted the truth of their narratives nor
attended to the philosophical reflections with which they were padded.
The meaning of the long words I guessed at.

"My taste at this time was most indiscriminate. I could find some kind
of enjoyment in almost anything that called itself a book--even a
Sunday-school story, or a child's history of the world--provided only
it gave something concrete for imagination to work upon. The mere
process of reading, with the play of fancy that it quickened, became an
agreeable pastime. I got a great deal of pleasure, and possibly some
good, out of Bunyan's 'Holy War' (which I perversely preferred to 'The
Pilgrim's Progress') and Livingstone's 'Missionary Journals and
Researches,' and a book about the Scotch Covenanters. These volumes
shortened many a Sunday. I also liked parts of 'The Compleat Angler,'
but the best parts I skipped.

"With the coming of school days the time for reading was reduced, and
it became necessary to make a choice among books. The natural instincts
of youth asserted themselves, and I became a devotee of Captain Mayne
Reid and R. M. Ballantyne, whose simple narratives of wild adventure
offered a refuge from the monotony of academic life. It gave me no
concern that the names of these authors were not included in the
encyclopaedias of literature nor commented upon in the critical reviews.
I had no use for the encyclopaedias or reviews; but 'The Young
Voyageurs,' 'The White Chief,' 'Osceola the Seminole,' 'The Bush Boys,'
'The Coral Island,' 'Red Eric,' 'Ungava,' and 'The Gorilla Hunters'
gave me unaffected delight.

"After about two years of this innocent dissipation I began to feel the
desire for a better life, and turned, by my father's advice, to Sir
Walter Scott. 'Ivanhoe' and 'The Pirate' pleased me immensely;
'Waverley' and 'The Heart of Midlothian' I accepted with
qualifications; but the two of Scott's novels that gave me the most
pleasure, I regret to state, were 'Quentin Durward' and 'Count Robert
of Paris.' Then Dickens claimed me, and I yiel