difficulty was not to be got over by the
establishment of so limited a library as the
school-room could furnish. People could not
always read children's books, and when they
grew up, they were in as much danger of
relapsing into ignorance as ever.

A few good-natured country gentlemen and
clergy were seated over their port one evening,
after a dinner-party at the vicar of Babbleton's,
when the subject of education was the leading
theme of conversation. Somebody proposed
founding a Book Club. Everybody present
agreed to the proposal, but there were many
difficulties. They must get the books, in the
first place.

"As to that," observed Mr. Burke Sheridan,
the great fashionable author at Belle Vue
Villa, "  think that much may be done by
individuals. For instance, I receive copies of
nearly all the magazines: many of these are
of little use to me when once looked over;
I will promise to send them as my
contribution."

"Why should not the newspapers be sent
in a similar manner?" said an old gentleman
in spectacles. " o be sure, it will be fiddler's
news, to some extent; but we know that the
lower classes will read newspapers, and it is
better for them to read those of a, healthy
sort, than the high-spiced rubbish which only
teaches them discontent."

The Reverend Hugo Boyce, who was
slightly suspected of being tainted with some
"ism " or other, disapproved of newspapers,
unless they were of sound Church principles.
The old gentleman did not think that a
newspaper could hurt a congregation, where
the clergyman did his duty. He also observed,
that the people likely to furnish books or
newspapers for a work of charity and edification,
would scarcely select such as were best
calculated to defeat both purposes.

Good-natured Parson Wilks, from Dorlingford
West, who never led but always helped
in a good undertaking, volunteered a folio
copy of Cook's Voyages, which had belonged
to his grandmother. To be sure, he told a
rather long story about it, and about his
grandmother likewise; but Parson Wilks was
a favourite, and his audience looked as little
tired as possible.

The Reverend James St. John, and Burke
Sheridan, Esq., were too active to let the
grass grow under their feet. They begged old
books; they begged money to buy new ones;
they drew up rules for the management of
what they had got, and for obtaining funds to
get more;—and, in a few weeks, a board might
be seen pasted up in the vestry-rooms, school-rooms,
and other public situations about the
surrounding parishes, stating that books
would be lent to poor and working people in
the neighbourhood, on application, during
specified hours, to certain of the clergymen
among whom the books were divided.

This division of the books was advantageous
in one or two ways. They could be got at
more readily, duplicates could be disposed of
advantageously, and distances were not too
great to prevent each person availing himself
of the entire stock. Nor was the management
difficult. Each book was numbered, and a
corresponding ticket, signed with the name of the
owner, was retained by the clergyman as a
check till the book was returned. Two half-hours
in the week were amply sufficient for
the business of the library, and one of these
was fixed on Sunday, as many of the labouring
poor would be unable to go for the books
at a convenient hour on the other days.

Few people did the institution more good
than Mr. Burke Sheridan. Although he was
a "progress " man, and had lectured at the
Griffin and Phoenix Institutions, and had had
so many votes of thanks, and had made so
many public speeches at Boards, Associations,
Freemasons'-dinners, and other "meets," that
he was always expected to be talking: still he
had no absurd ideas of revolutionising country
people into being unfit for their station. Now
and then, he gave a simple lecture at one
of the school-houses, and taught even old
labourers a few things about the earth and
sky which instructed them, and did not
merely puzzle and stupify their senses. And
the Reverend James St. John, who believed
that the goodness of the great Creator
might be taught, not only from the written
Scriptures, but from his works, would gather
round him a shoal of rough boys and girls,
and fix their attention on some simple
object, and, by making them think of small
things, gradually arrive at higher subjects of
reflection. "No human being is ignorant by
nature," was his constant maxim. But he, at
the same time, knew well that there is a
certain proportion of knowledge suited to
particular conditions of mankind, and he
sought to make useful and plain common-sense
men, not brilliant and troublesome
ones.

The library was not, however, without its
difficulties. No good thing ever is. Sometimes
people would delay returning books; and
once, to the infinite disgust and annoyance
of Parson Wilks, a "ticket " was produced
for Captain Cook's Voyages, but not the
ticket usually connected with the working of
the Society. Sometimes dishonesty did its
work, and the people and books went together.
But there were few such cases, and, compared
with the good really done, there was little
reason to complain.

The advantages of the system were felt
by nearly every one except the publicans.
Humble gardeners worked hard, in order to
steal an hour more to devote to reading to
their wives. Labourers might be seen, during
lunch-time, snatching a few minutes' reading
out of the time once devoted by their fellows
to sleep by the way-side, or to the sociability
of the Crown and Sceptre. Moreover, the
very habit of taking care of the books led to
carefulness in other respects. They did not