"For instance," he said, "I like natural history. Now, a great many persons think it very dull. How is it with you?" "That's just a case in point," I answered, with an effort not to care what he thought of me, "I never could get interested in it at all." "I am not surprised; it is not very often attractive to those of your age and sex. Now, leaving off the 'natural,' perhaps you're fond of history?" I reflected a moment; but while "White's Universal," and "Esquisses Historiques" were so vividly fresh and hateful, how could I honestly say I liked history? Yet I knew there were some historical works that I had as soon read as novels, but I did not know how to explain it; so I said, "I don't like all history, by any means." "Neither do I," said Mr. Rutledge; "we agree on that point, and I am certain we shall on many others, if we can only get at them. Suppose you take any shelf, for instance, the lower one on your right, and let us see what we think of the contents. What's the first volume this way?" I stooped down and read off the name, "Hallam's Middle Ages." "Ah!" exclaimed my interlocutor, "we have stumbled upon history in earnest. How do you stand affected toward 'Hallam's Middle Ages'?" "I like it exceedingly, sir." I responded very concisely, very much afraid of being pressed to give my reasons, which would have involved me in utter dismay and confusion, for in common with most very young persons, I liked because I liked, and disliked upon the same discriminating principle. "What comes next?" asked Mr. Rutledge, to my great relief. "'Goldsmith's Animated Nature.'" "Ah! you don't like that. What follows?" "A long row of 'Buffon,' sir, and then 'Tytler's Universal History.' I haven't read 'Buffon,' and I think Tytler--well--very nice, but tiresome, you know." "Try the shelf above." "The first book, sir, is 'Irving's Goldsmith.'" "Did you ever read it?" I said Miss Crowen had given it to me to read, last vacation. "You found it tiresome?" "Tiresome! why, sir, I think it is the nicest book in the world. I can't help thinking how Goldsmith would love Mr. Irving, if he knew about it! Next, sir, comes a very pretty copy of 'Macaulay's Roman Lays,' and five volumes of his 'Essays.'" "Did Miss Crowen give you Macaulay to read?" "I took it from the library, and she did not make any objection." "And what do you think of him as a writer?" I did not need to look in his face to know how much diverted he was at the idea of extracting a criticism of the great historian from such a chit as I; and summoning all my courage to the aid of my pride, I answered steadily. "If one of my 'age and sex,' sir, can be considered to have an opinion, I should say, that though Mr. Macaulay is probably the most brilliant writer of the century, he is the one who has done the least good. I don't think any one who has the least faith, reverence, or loyalty, can read him except under protest."