ng gravity,
by more and more of state-paper weightiness; but beyond this the rule is
reversed, and lightness becomes the sign and measure of excellence. Bishop
Butler and Richard Hooker--especially the latter, the first book of whose
"Ecclesiastical Polity" is a truly noble piece of writing--stand, perhaps,
at the head of the weighty class of writers in our language; but going
beyond these to the "Areopagitica" of Milton, or even to the powerful
prose of Raleigh, you pass the boundary-line, and are touched with the
buoyant influences of the Muse. Shakspeare and Plato are lighter than
levity; they are lifting forces, and weigh _less_ than nothing. The
novelette of the season, or any finest and flimsiest gossamer that is
fabricated in our literary looms, compares with "Lear," with "Prometheus
Bound," with any supreme work, only as cobwebs and thistle-down, that are
easily borne by the breeze, may compare with sparrows and thrushes, that
can fly and withal sing.

There is a call for "light reading," and I for one applaud the demand. A
lightening influence is the best that books or men can bestow upon us.
Information is good, but invigoration is a thousand times better. Cheer,
cheer and vigor for the world's heart! It is because man's hope is so low,
and his imaginations so poor, that he is earthly and evil. Wings for these
unfledged hearts! Transformation for these grubs! Give us animation,
inspiration, joy, faith! Give us enlivening, lightsome airs, to which our
souls shall, on a sudden, begin to dance, keeping step with the angels!
What else is worth having? Each one of these sordid sons of men--is he not
a new-born Apollo, who waits only for the ambrosia from Olympus, to spring
forth in divineness of beauty and strength?

Nevertheless, I know not of any reading so hopelessly heavy as large
portions of that which claims the name of light. Light writing it may be;
but, considered as reading, one would be unjust to charge upon it any lack
of avoirdupois. It is like the bran of wheat, which, though of little
weight in the barrel, is heavy enough in the stomach,--Dr. Sylvester
Graham to the contrary notwithstanding. It is related of an Italian
culprit, that, being required, in punishment of his crime, to make choice
between lying in prison for a term of years and reading the history of
Guicciardini, he chose the latter, but, after a brief trial, petitioned
for leave to reverse his election. I never attempted Guicciardini; bu