have an ambition to be known for some one thing; to be master in some particular line. Learning is not necessarily knowledge any more than knowledge is wisdom. Wisdom is knowledge which has become a part of one's being; it is the result of close, systematic thinking, taken into the very tissue of the mind itself, as the iron particles in the blood are taken up and become incorporated in its very life.

As a rule, the books which will do you most good are those which make you work hardest while reading, which stimulate the brain, and inspire you to nobler purpose. Passive reading is even worse, if possible, than desultory reading; the mind remains inactive, in a sort of indolent reverie; so it is weakened and in time rendered incapable of that reach and grasp which enables it to master principles, and that power which enables it to analyze and synthetize. Passive reading takes the spring and the snap out of the mind, until the brain becomes languid, lazy, and disinclined to grapple with great principles and hard problems.

Reading and thinking are the gymnasia of the mind. The gymnast does not carry away the apparatus from the gymnasium, but the strength and the suppleness which the exercise gives him. It is not so much what we carry away from the book and store in memory that is valuable, as the strength and skill we develop in the book we read. Passive reading no more develops the mind than sitting down in a gymnasium will develop the body. The mind must have exercise, vigorous, strong, systematic, continuous.

One great difference between the American graduate and the graduates from the English universities is that the latter have not read many books superficially, but a few books well. The American graduate too often has a smattering of many books, but has not become master of any. The same thing is largely true of readers in general; they want to know a little of everything.

They want to read all the latest publications, good, bad, and indifferent, if they are only new. As a rule, our people want light reading, "something to read" that will take up the attention and kill time on the railroad or at home. Generally English people read more substantial books, older books, books which have established their right to exist. They are not so eager for "recent publications."

Whatever you read, read with enthusiasm, with energy, read with the whole mind, if you would increase your mental stature. Learn to absorb the mental and the moral life of a book, and assimilate it into your life. He is the best reader who consumes the most knowledge and converts it into character. Mechanical readers remember words, the husks of things, but digest nothing. They cram their brains but starve their minds. If you are getting the most out of a book, you will feel a capacity for doing things which you never felt before. As few actors conceive the characters they play, so few readers comprehend and ensoul their authors.

Hasty reading, superficial reading, overtaxes the memory until it loses its power to grasp and hold. The mind loses its focusing power, the power to bring together and to compare, its power of close attention and continuity of thought, without which no great intellectual work can ever be accomplished. Elizabeth Barrett Browning says, "We err by reading too much, and out of proportion to what we think. I should be wiser, I am persuaded, if I had not read half as much; should have had stronger and better exercised faculties, and should stand higher in my own appreciation. The ne plus ultra of intellectual indolence is this reading of books." It is said that Miss Martineau read only a page in an hour. Edmund Burke always so read a book as to make it his own, -a possession for life.

Joseph Cook advises youth to always make notes of their reading. Mr. Cook uses the margins of his books

for his notes, and marks all of his own books very freely, so that every volume in his library becomes a notebook. He advises all young men and young women to keep commonplace books. They are a great aid to memory, and help wonderfully to locate or find for future use what we have read. The habit of taking notes of lectures and sermons is excellent. One of the greatest aids to education is the habit of writing out an analysis or skeleton of a book or article after we have read it; also of a sermon or a lecture. This habit has made many a strong, vigorous thinker and writer. In this connection we cannot too strongly recommend the habit of saving clippings from our readings wherever possible, of everything which would be likely to assist us in the future. These scrapbooks, indexed, often become of untold advantage, especially if in the line of our work. Much of what we call genius in great men comes from such notebooks and scrapbooks. It is a great deal of work after you read a book, listen to a sermon or lecture, to write out an analysis or skeleton of it, but this is the way the Pitts, the Disraelis, the Websters, the Lincolns, and the Clays are made. Good books are "gardens of undimmed beauty, where the flowers of gracious poetry never fade, and the leaves of noble biographies never wither."

The Egyptians called books the soul's medicine.

Happy is he who, when the day's work is done, finds his rest and solace and recreation in communion with the master minds of the present and of the past, in study, and in literature. There is no rest, no recreation, no refreshment to the wearied and jaded body and mind, worn by work and toil, equal to the intellectual pleasures to which I have just been referring. ALEXANDER COCKBURN.

A book is good company. It comes to your longing with full instruction, but pursues you never. It is not offended at your absent-mindedness, nor jealous if you turn to other pleasures, of leaf, or dress, or mineral, or even of books. It silently serves the soul without recompense, not even for the hire of love. And yet more noble, it seems to pass from itself, and to enter the memory, and to hover in a silvery transformation there, until the outward book is but a body and its soul and spirit are flown to you, and possess your memory like a spirit. - BEECHER.

"Books are strange things. Although untongued and dumb, Yet with their eloquence they sway the world;

And, powerless and impassive as they seem, Move o'er the impressive minds and hearts of men Like fire across a prairie. Mind sparks,

They star the else dark firmament."

When friends grow cold and the converse of intimates languishes into vapid civility and commonplace, these only continue the unaltered countenance of happier days, and cheer us with that true friendship which never deceived hope, nor deserted sorrow. -- - WASHINGTON IRVING.

for his notes, and marks all of his own books very freely, so that every volume in his library becomes a notebook. He advises all young men and young women to keep commonplace books. They are a great aid to memory, and help wonderfully to locate or find for fu ture use what we have read. The habit of taking notes of lectures and sermons is excellent. One of the greatest aids to education is the habit of writing out an analysis or skeleton of a book or article after we have read it; also of a sermon or a lecture. This habit has made many a strong, vigorous thinker and writer. In this connection we cannot too strongly recommend the habit of saving clippings from our readings wherever possible, of everything which would be likely to assist us in the future. These scrapbooks, indexed, often become of untold advantage, especially if in the line of our work. Much of what we call genius in great men comes from such notebooks and scrapbooks. It is a great deal of work after you read a book, listen to a sermon or lecture, to write out an analysis or skeleton of it, but this is the way the Pitts, the Disraelis, the Websters, the Lincolns, and the Clays are made. Good books are "gardens of undimmed beauty, where the flowers of gracious poetry never fade, and the leaves of noble biographies never wither."

The Egyptians called books the soul's medicine.

Happy is he who, when the day's work is done, finds his rest and solace and recreation in communion with the master minds of the present and of the past, in study, and in literature. There is no rest, no recreation, no refreshment to the wearied and jaded body and mind, worn by work and toil, equal to the intellectual pleasures to which I have just been referring. ALEXANDER COCKBURN.

A book is good company. It comes to your longing with full instruction, but pursues you never. It is not offended at your absent-mindedness, nor jealous if you turn to other pleasures, of leaf, or dress, or mineral, or even of books. It silently serves the soul without recompense, not even for the hire of love. And yet more noble, it seems to pass from itself, and to enter the memory, and to hover in a silvery transformation there, until the outward book is but a body and its soul and spirit are flown to you, and possess your memory like a spirit. — BEECHER.