way in which time seems to drag to the impatient man within it.
But above all, in your reading, do not be content with studying the so-called masterpieces of literature. It is wise to know the Decameron and Don Quixote, Richardson, and Smollett, and Sterne; but the modern writer can do no more depend on them as models than the modern painter can depend on Botticelli and Ghirlandajo. A knowledge of Elisabethan footgear, or of the relative artisitc value of the moccasin and the sabot, is of little value to a modern shoemaker. What he wants to know is how shoes, the best sort of shoes, are made to-day, by the latest methods. And it is precisely the same with literature. There is no demand to-day for a new Hamlet, a second Paradise Lost, another Sir Roger de Coverly, or even a Tom Jones, David Copperfield or Vanity Fair. The technique of writing is
[68]
