ither the genius of man, nor his length of
days, has had an increase corresponding to that of the realm of
knowledge, the requirements of reading, and the conditions of
intelligence. The multiplied attractions only crowd and obstruct the
necessarily narrow line of duty, possibility, and destiny. Life
threatens to be extinguished by its own shadow, by the _debris_ kept in
the current by countless tenacious records. Its essence escapes to
heaven or into new forms, but its ghosts still walk the earth in print.
Like that mythical serpent which advanced only as it grew in length, so
knowledge spans the whole length of the ages. Some philosopher conceived
of history as the migration and growth of reason throughout time,
culminating in successive historical ideas. He, however, supposed that
the idea of every age had nothing to do with any preceding age; it had
passed through whatsoever previous stages, had been somewhat modified by
them, contained in itself all that was best in them, was improved and
elevated at every new epoch; but it had no memory, never looked
backward, and was an ever rolling sphere, complete in itself, leaving no
trail behind. Human life, under the discipline of letters and common
schools, is not thus Hegelian, but advances under the boundless
retrospection of literature. And yet this is probably divine philosophy.
It is probable that the faculty of memory belongs to man only in an
immature state of development, and that in some future and happier epoch
the past will be known to us only as it lives in the present; and then
for the first time will Realism in life take the place of Nominalism.

The largest library in the world, the Bibliotheque Imperiale of Paris,
(it has been successively, like the adventurous and versatile throne of
France, Royale, Nationale, and Imperiale,) contains very nearly one
million of books, the collected fruits of all time. Consider an average
book in that collection: how much human labor does it stand for? How
much capital was invested originally in its production, and how much
tribute of time and toil does it receive per annum? Regarding books as
intellectual estate, how much does it cost mankind to procure and keep
up an average specimen? What quantity of human resources has been
originally and consecutively sunk in the Parisian library? How much of
human time, which is but a span, and of human emotion and thought, which
are sacred and not to be carelessly thrown away, lie lat