"Well, sir, it must be a grand thing to injye good books, but it must be grander still to injye anny kind iv books. Hogan can read annything. He ain't a bit particklar. He's tur-rbly addicted to th' habit. Long years ago I decided that I cudden't read annything but th' lightest newspaper with me meals. I seldom read between meals excipt now an' thin f'r socyability's sake. If I am with people that are readin' I'm very apt to jine thim so's not to appear to be bad company. But Hogan is always at it. I wudden't mind if he wint out boldly to readin'-rooms an' thin let it alone. But he reads whin he is be himsilf. He reads in bed. He reads with his meals. He is a secret reader. He nips in second-hand book stores. He can't go on a thrain an' have anny fun lookin' at th' other passengers or invyin th' farmers their fields an' not invyin' their houses. Not a bit iv it. He has to put a book in his pocket. He'll tell ye that th' on'y readin' is Doctor Eliot's cillybrated old blend an' he'll talk larnedly about th' varyous vintages. But I've seen him read books that wud kill a thruckman. Th' result iv it is that Hogan is always wrong about ivrything. He sees th' wurruld upside down. Some men are affected diff'rent. Readin' makes thim weep. But it makes Hogan believe in fairies while he's at it. He's irresponsible. There ain't annything in th' wurruld f'r him but dark villyans an' blond heroes. An' he's always fightin' these here imaginary inimies an' frinds, wantin' to desthroy a poor, tired, scared villyan, an' losin' his good money to a hero. I've thried to stop him. 'Use ye'er willpower,' say I. 'Limit ye'ersilf to a book or two a day,' says I. 'Stay in th' open air. Take soft readin'. How d'ye expict to get on in th' wurruld th' way ye are goin'? Who wud make a confirmed reader th' cashier iv a bank? Ye'd divide ye'er customers into villyans an' heroes an' ye wudden't lend money to th' villyans. An' thin ye'd be wrong aven if ye were right. F'r th' villyans wud be more apt to have th' money to bring back thin th' heroes,' says I. 'Ye may be right,' says he. 'But 'tis too late to do annything with me. An' I don't care. It may hurt me in th' eyes iv me fellow counthrymen, but look at th' fun I get out iv it. I wudden't thrade th' injanyous wicked people an' th' saints that I see f'r all th' poor, dull, half-an'-half crathers that ye find in th' wurruld,' says he.