All men are afraid of books, who have not handled them from infancy.

Do you suppose our dear didascalos over there ever read Poli Synopsis, or consulted Castelli Lexicon, while he was growing up to their stature?
Not he; but virtue passed through the hem of their parchment and leather garments whenever he touched them, as the precious drugs sweated through the bat's handle in the Arabian story.

I tell you he is at home wherever he smells the invigorating fragrance of Russia leather.

No self-made man feels so.

One may, it is true, have all the antecedents I have spoken of, and yet be a boor or a shabby fellow.