tters must now read much that he soon forgets, and much from
which he learns nothing worthy to be remembered. The best works employ,
in general, but a small portion of his time. Demosthenes is said to have
transcribed six times the history of Thucydides. If he had been a young
politician of the present age, he might in the same space of time have
skimmed innumerable newspapers and pamphlets. I do not condemn that
desultory mode of study which the state of things, in our day, renders
a matter of necessity. But I may be allowed to doubt whether the changes
on which the admirers of modern institutions delight to dwell have
improved our condition so much in reality as in appearance. Rumford,
it is said, proposed to the Elector of Bavaria a scheme for feeding his
soldiers at a much cheaper rate than formerly. His plan was simply to
compel them to masticate their food thoroughly. A small quantity, thus
eaten, would, according to that famous projector, afford more sustenance
than a large meal hastily devoured. I do not know how Rumford's
proposition was received; but to the mind, I believe, it will be found
more nutritious to digest a page than to devour a volume.

Books, however, were the least part of the education of an Athenian
citizen. Let us, for a moment, transport ourselves in thought, to that
glorious city. Let us imagine that we are entering its gates, in the
time of its power and glory. A crowd is assembled round a portico. All
are gazing with delight at the entablature; for Phidias is putting up
the frieze. We turn into another street; a rhapsodist is reciting there:
men, women, children are thronging round him: the tears are running down
their cheeks: their eyes are fixed: their very breath is still; for
he is telling how Priam fell at the feet of Achilles, and kissed those
hands,--the terrible--the murderous,--which had slain so many of his
sons. (--kai kuse cheiras, deinas, anorophonous, ai oi poleas ktanon
uias.)

We enter the public place; there is a ring of youths, all leaning
forward, with sparkling eyes, and gestures of expectation. Socrates is
pitted against the famous atheist, from Ionia, and has just brought
him to a contradiction in terms. But we are interrupted. The herald is
crying--"Room for the Prytanes." The general assembly is to meet. The
people are swarming in on every side. Proclamation is made--"Who wishes
to speak?" There is a shout, and a clapping of hands: Pericles is
mounting the stand. T