now here and now there and then making selection, from one motive or another, but presumably following the dictates of its own taste or fancy.  What does it not do?  First, it does not, from choice, eat anything bad.  Secondly, it does not necessarily consume all of its food in this way.  If it finds a particularly choice spot, it may confine its feeding to that spot; or, if its owner sees fit, he may remove it to the stable, where it may stand all day and eat what he chooses to give it.  The benefits of browsing are, first, the nourishment actually derived from the food taken, coupled with the fact that it is taken in small quantities, and in great variety; and secondly, the knowledge of good spots, obtained from the testing of one spot after another, throughout the whole broad pasture.

Now I submit that our figure of speech holds good in all these particulars.  The literary “browser” partakes of his mental food from books and is thereby nourished and stimulated; he takes it here and there in brief quantities, moving from section to section and from shelf to shelf, selecting choice morsels of literature as fancy may dictate.  He does not, if he is a healthy reader, absorb voluntarily anything that will hurt him, and this method of literary absorption does not preclude other methods of mental nourishment.  He may like a book so much that he proceeds to devour it whole, or his superiors in knowledge may remove him to a place where necessary mental food is administered more or less forcibly.  And having gone so far with our comparison, we shall make no mistake if we go a little further and say that the benefits of browsing to the reader are twofold, as they are to the material feeder—­the absorption of actual nutriment in his own wilful, wayward manner—­a little at a time and in great variety; and the knowledge of good reading obtained from such a wide testing of the field.

Are not these real benefits, and are they not desirable?  I fear that our original surmise was correct and that browsing is condemned not for what it does, but because it fails to do something that it could not be expected to do.  Of course, if one were to browse continuously he would be unable to feed in any other way.  Attendance upon school or the continuous reading of any book whatever would be obviously impossible.  To avoid misunderstanding, therefore, we will agree at this point that whatever may be said here in commendation of browsing is on condition that it be occasional and not excessive and that the normal amount of continuous reading and study proceed together with it.

Having settled, therefore, that browsing is a good thing when one does not occupy ones’ whole time with it, let us examine its advantages a little more in detail.