Books and Readers
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BOOKS AND READERS.—
The tables seem to have turned lately. Formerly there were a great deal more books published than the public cared to read, but at present the reading public (a phrase which incudes, now-a-days, almost everybody) is waiting, open mouthed, for the next great novel or the next great poem. The scanty instalments of Thackeray's "Virginians" and Bulwer Lytton's "What will he do with It?" which dribble through the serial issues of the Messrs Harpers' publications, are not sufficient for any confirmed novel reader to subsist on. He is compelled to go back again to the immortal pages of Irving, Dickens, (always excepting that miserable caricature of its predecessors, Little Dorrit) Bulwer, Sims, Scott, Cooper, Warren, &c. We do not envy the taste of a person who can read a really good novel in weekly or monthly instalments. We would as lieve "take a drink" by the tea-spoonful, as read a novel by chapterly instalments. The reading community are entitled to look to their favorite authors, who remain alive and in the full enjoyment of mental and physical strength, for a continuance of their exertions. Such men belong to the public; they have formally consecrated themselves to literature, and in return for the popularity and applause they have obtained, it is only fair that they should continue in harness as long as they retain the ability to labor.