“Why?” you may say. “If I can learn all about early civilisation in a book like Georg Ebers’ _Egyptian Princess_, about mediæval and Scottish history in Scott’s novels, about the Stuart period in _John Inglesant_, about music in a story like _Charles Anchester_, about modern problems of every kind in George Eliot’s, Sir Walter Besant’s, and Mrs. Humphry Ward’s pages—not to go further—why not confine my reading to this interesting and attractive form?” There is an essay by the late Professor T. H. Green of Oxford, which should be very widely studied.[1] He answers the question “Why not?” in a most forcible and masterly way, and the gist of his reply is this. The novel must perforce reproduce the circumstantial view of life; we are called to look again upon the incidents which day by day distract our attention overmuch from the “unseen and eternal” realities, and are apt to be enthralled afresh by the view that “to marry and live happily ever after” is man’s and woman’s chief end. In other words, the aspect of things the novelist shows us is “merely the outward and natural as applied to the inner or ideal.” He cannot give a complete representation of life; for instance, reproduce its slowness, its discipline by long years of silent waiting and patient labour. Much must be omitted of necessity, by reason of conditions of the craft; much also, by reason of artistic effect, must be so arranged and rounded off as to give the impression of a happiness impossible in life. The lesson of life, then, in its completeness, cannot be taught even by the best novel. The reading of fiction is valuable in its place, but it is not enough for the mind and heart to feed upon. We have not, however, as yet to consider the reading of fiction pure and simple. There is much besides to occupy attention, and perhaps this is the place to insist upon the reading of history. To connect the remote regions of classic lore with the present day, history is needed; but it is rather overwhelming to look at the best books of history and see how long and how numerous they are! The primers of history are, however, within the compass of all.