rapidly written for temporary purposes, and is now unnecessary,

though true, even to truism. What I wrote about religion, was, on
the contrary, painstaking, and, I think, forcible, as compared with

most religious writing; especially in its frankness and
fearlessness: but it was whollymistaken: for I had been educated

in the doctrines of a narrow sect, and had read history as obliquely
as sectarians necessarily must.

Mingled among these either unnecessary or erroneous statements, I
find, indeed, some that might be still of value; but these, in my

earlier books, disfigured by affected language, partly through the
desire to be thought a fine writer, and partly, as in the second

volume of 'Modern Painters,' in the notion of returning as far as I
could to what I thought the better style of old English literature,

especially to that of my then favourite, in prose, Richard Hooker.
For these reasons,--though, as respects either art, policy, or

morality, as distinct from religion, I not only still hold, but
would even wish strongly to re-affirm the substance of what I said

in my earliest books,--I shall reprint scarcely anything in this
series out of the first and second volumes of 'Modern Painters'; and

shall omit much of the 'Seven Lamps' and 'Stones of Venice'; but all
my books written within the last fifteen years will be republished

without change, as new editions of them are called for, with here
and there perhaps an additional note, and having their text divided,

for convenientreference, into paragraphs, consecutive through each
volume. I shall also throw together the shorter fragments that bear

on each other, and fill in with such unprinted lectures or studies
as seem to me worth preserving, so as to keep the volumes, on an

average, composed of about a hundred leaves each.
The first book of which a new edition is required chances to be

'Sesame and Lilies,' from which I now detach the whole preface,
about the Alps, for use elsewhere; and to I which I add a lecture

given in Ireland on a subject closely connected with that of the
book itself. I am glad that it should be the first of the complete

series, for many reasons; though in now looking over these two
lectures, I am painfully" target="_blank" title="ad.痛苦地；费力地">painfully struck by the waste of good work in them.

They cost me much thought, and much strong emotion; but it was
foolish to suppose that I could rouse my audiences in a little while

to any sympathy with the temper into which I had brought myself by
years of thinking over subjects full of pain; while, if I missed my

purpose at the time, it was little to be hoped I could attain it
afterwards; since phrases written for oral delivery become

ineffective when quietly read. Yet I should only take away what
good is in them if I tried to translate them into the language of

books; nor, indeed, could I at all have done so at the time of their
delivery, my thoughts then habitually and impatiently putting

themselves into forms fit only for emphatic speech; and thus I am
startled, in my review of them, to find that, though there is much,

(forgive me the impertinence) which seems to me accurately" target="_blank" title="ad.准确地；精密地">accurately and
energetically said, there is scarcely anything put in a form to be

generally convincing, or even easily intelligible: and I can well
imagine a reader laying down the book without being at all moved by

it, still less guided, to any definite course of action.
I think, however, if I now say briefly and clearly what I meant my

hearers to understand, and what I wanted, and still would fain have,
them to do, there may afterwards be found some better service in the

passionately written text.
The first lecture says, or tries to say, that, life being very

short, and the quiet hours of it few, we ought to waste none of them
in reading valueless books; and that valuable books should, in a

civilized country, be within the reach of every one, printed in
excellent form, for a just price; but not in any vile, vulgar, or,

by reason of smallness of type, physicallyinjurious form, at a vile
price. For we none of us need many books, and those which we need

ought to be clearly printed, on the best paper, and strongly bound.
And though we are, indeed, now, a wretched and poverty-struck

nation, and hardly able to keep soul and body together, still, as no
person in decent circumstances would put on his table confessedly

bad wine, or bad meat, without being ashamed, so he need not have on
his shelves ill-printed or loosely and wretchedly-stitched books;

for though few can be rich, yet every man who honestly exerts
himself may, I think, still provide, for himself and his family,

good shoes, good gloves, strong harness for his cart or carriage
horses, and stout leather binding for his books. And I would urge

upon every young man, as the beginning of his due and wise provision
for his household, to obtain as soon as he can, by the severest

economy, a restricted, serviceable, and steadily--however slowly--
increasing, series of books for use through life; making his little

library, of all the furniture in his room, the most studied and
decorative piece; every volume having its assigned place, like a

little statue in its niche, and one of the earliest and strictest
lessons to the children of the house being how to turn the pages of

their own literary possessions lightly and deliberately, with no
chance of tearing or dog's ears.

That is my notion of the founding of Kings' Treasuries; and the
first lecture is intended to show somewhat the use and preciousness

of their treasures: but the two following ones have wider scope,
being written in the hope of awakening the youth of England, so far

as my poor words might have any power with them, to take some
thought of the purposes of the life into which they are entering,

and the nature of the world they have to conquer.
These two lectures are fragmentary and ill-arranged, but not, I

think, diffuse or much compressible. The entire gist and conclusion
of them, however, is in the last six paragraphs of the third

lecture, which I would beg the reader to look over not once nor
twice, (rather than any other part of the book,) for they contain

the best expression I have yet been able to put in words of what, so
far as is within my power, I mean henceforward both to do myself,

and to plead with all over whom I have any influence, to do also
according to their means: the letters begun on the first day of

this year, to the workmen of England, having the object of
originating, if possible, this movement among them, in true alliance

with whatever trustworthy element of help they can find in the
higher classes. After these paragraphs, let me ask you to read, by

the fiery light of recent events, the fable at p. 170 {1}, and then
paragraphs 129-131 {2}; and observe, my statement respecting the

famine at Orissa is not rhetorical, but certified by official
documents as within the truth. Five hundred thousand persons, AT

LEAST, died by starvation in our British dominions, wholly in
consequence of carelessness and want of forethought. Keep that well

in your memory; and note it as the best possible illustration of
modern political economy in true practice, and of the relations it

has accomplished between Supply and Demand. Then begin the second
lecture, and all will read clear enough, I think, to the end; only,

since that second lecture was written, questions have arisen
respecting the education and claims of women which have greatly

troubled simple minds and excited restless ones. I am sometimes
asked my thoughts on this matter, and I suppose that some girl

readers of the second lecture may at the end of it desire to be told
summarily what I would have them do and desire in the present state

of things. This, then, is what I would say to any girl who had
confidence enough in me to believe what I told her, or to do what I

asked her.
First, be quite sure of one thing, that, however much you may know,

and whatever advantages you may possess, and however good you may
be, you have not been singled out, by the God who made you, from all

the other girls in the world, to be especially informed respecting
His own nature and character. You have not been born in a luminous

point upon the surface of the globe, where a perfect theology might
be expounded to you from your youth up, and where everything you

were taught would be true, and everything that was enforced upon
you, right. Of all the insolent, all the foolish persuasions that

by any chance could enter and hold your empty little heart, this is
the proudest and foolishest,--that you have been so much the darling

of the Heavens, and favourite of the Fates, as to be born in the
very nick of time, and in the punctual place, when and where pure

Divine truth had been sifted from the errors of the Nations; and
that your papa had been providentially disposed to buy a house in