Everybody knows, in general terms, how the English working classes do amuse themselves.  Let us, however, set down the exact facts, so far as we can get at them, and consider them.  First, it must be remembered as a gain—­so many other things having been lost—­that the workman of the present day possesses an accomplishment, one weapon, which was denied to his fathers—­he can read.  That possession ought to open a boundless field; but it has not yet done so, for the simple reason that we have entirely forgotten to give the working man anything to read.  This, if any, is a case in which the supply should have preceded and created the demand.  Books are dear; besides, if a man wants to buy books, there is no one to guide him or tell him what he should get.  Suppose, for instance, a studious working man anxious to teach himself natural history, how is he to know the best, latest, and most trustworthy books?  And so for every branch of learning.  Secondly, there are no free libraries to speak of; I find, in London, one for Camden Town, one for Bethnal Green, one for South London, one for Notting Hill, one for Westminster, and one for the City; and this seems to exhaust the list.  It would be interesting to know the daily average of evening visitors at these libraries.  There are three millions of the working classes in London:  there is, therefore, one free library for every half-million, or, leaving out a whole three-fourths in order to allow for the children and the old people and those who are wanted at home, there is one library for every 125,000 people.  The accommodation does not seem liberal, but one has as yet heard no complaints of overcrowding.  It may be said, however, that the workman reads his paper regularly.  That is quite true.  The paper which he most loves is red-hot on politics; and its readers are assumed to be politicians of the type which consider the Millennium only delayed by the existence of the Church, the House of Lords, and a few other institutions.  Yet our English working man is not a firebrand, and though he listens to an immense quantity of fiery oratory, and reads endless fiery articles, he has the good sense to perceive that none of the destructive measures recommended by his friends are likely to improve his own wages or reduce the price of food.  It is unfortunate that the favourite and popular papers, which might instruct the people in so many important matters—­such as the growth, extent, and nature of the trades by which they live, the meaning of the word Constitution, the history of the British Empire, the rise and development of our liberties, and so forth—­teach little or nothing on these or any other points.