Even when such works are perfectly unexceptionable in their character; when they are wholly free from any thing improper, either in language or sentiment, they may be productive of incalculable mischief, if, as now, they are issued in excessive _numbers_ and _quantity_. Leaving the _character_ of modern novels entirely out of the question, the enormous number which for the last half century has been every day increasing, has become a grievous intellectual and moral nuisance. As long as they were _few_ in number, and were regarded not as the _substance_, but only as the _seasoning_ of the literary feast, they occupied but a small share of public attention. The chief time and attention of the reading portion of the community were mainly devoted to works of substantial value, fitted to strengthen, enlarge, and enrich the mind. But, within the last twenty or thirty years, the number of novels has increased so rapidly; they have become so prominent and alluring a part of the current literature of the day; and by their stimulating and inexhaustible variety, have so drawn away the minds of the aged as well as the young from solid reading, that they have formed the principal reading of a large portion of the community, and, of course, have become a snare and an injury to an extent not easily calculated. As long as exhilarating gases, or other stimulating substances, are administered sparingly, and as medicines, they may be altogether harmless, and even essentially useful. But, when those who have taken them for some time in this manner, become so enamoured with them as to be no longer satisfied with their moderate and salutary use, but make them their daily and principal aliment, they become inevitably mischievous. They destroy the tone of the stomach, and, in the end, radically undermine the health. So it is with the insidious excitement of novels. Were the reader of them to take none into his hands but those which might be safely pronounced perfectly pure and innocent; and were he certain that he would never be tempted to go beyond the most moderate bounds in seeking and perusing even such, there would, perhaps, be little danger to be apprehended. But no one can be thus certain of either. The general stimulus of fictitious narrative is morbid and disorderly. It excites the mind, but cannot fill or enrich it. The probability is, that he who allows himself to enter on this course, will be led on, like the miserable tippler, from one stage of indulgence to another, until his appetite is perverted; his power of self-denial and restraint lost; and his ruin finally sealed; or, at least, his mind so completely indisposed and unfitted for the sober realities of practical wisdom, for the pursuits of solid science and literature, as to be consigned to the class of superficial drivellers as long as he lives.