The munificent Newbery, and the pious and loyal
Hugh Gaine, and the patriotic Samuel Loudon are departed. Banks now
abound and brokers swarm where Loudon erst printed, and many millions
worth of silk and woolen goods are every year sold where Gaine vended
his big Bibles and his little story-books. They are all gone; the
glittering covers and their more brilliant contents, the tales of wonder
and enchantment, the father's best reward for merit, the good
grandmother's most prized presents. They are gone--the cheap delight of
childhood, the unbought grace of boyhood, the dearest, freshest, and
most unfading recollections of maturer life. They are gone--and in their
stead has succeeded a swarm of geological catechisms, entomological
primers, and tales of political economy--dismal trash, all of them;
something half-way between stupid story-books and bad school-books;
being so ingeniously written as to be unfit for any useful purpose in
school and too dull for any entertainment out of it.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313