matter what, if you can only so construct and advertise it that it will be read,—there is no promise of an end. But the simple undisputed matter of fact is that what is read is not literature, and would, almost all of it, better be left unread.
It is somewhat shocking to discover how few men and women, even among those who claim the title of "educated," know or care much about really good literature. They read—the newspapers (Heaven pity them), the magazines, and the latest, most sensational novels. But with these persons there is little acquaintance or affection having for its object what is really pure, noble, and elevating in the world's best books. I regard it, then, as of the utmost importance to hold up a high standard of literary culture as an aspiration and aim of all those who would lay claim to a truly liberal education.
And here I will venture to speak quite frankly though with perfect friendliness, concerning certain efforts of some of the modern devotees of a more purely scientific education. They are often obviously irritated at the distinction which has not as yet been wholly abolished between the degree of B. A. and the other degrees given at the end of courses which do not emphasize in the same way the linguistic and literary side of culture. They think it unjust and intolerable that graduates of scientific schools, who have been serious and suc-
