“It is all too clear at this moment that there are many ways for a book to begin; and most of those in plain sight are transparently bad. We are tantalized by the thought that somewhere among them may lie hidden a few having such noble qualities as these: The readers are informed—perhaps without suspecting it, though in the clearest prose—of what the writer intends to discuss; yet at the same time, it sounds like the Lorelei calling. Whereupon these readers resolve into two groups: The first, a large and happy family really, will stick to the book to the end, even though unimagined adversities impend. Further, this group will always think and speak kindly of it, and will doubtless have at least one copy in every room. The second group is most briefly described by stating that it differs from the first; but the book acts immediately as a soporific on all unpleasant passions, so, as it is sleepily laid aside, the sole lasting impression is that of a good gift suggestion.”