not even an Act of Parliament could cause to be generally read, and which no publisher would be so blind to his own interests as to reprint.  As regards its size, the Gulistan is but a small book, but intrinsically it is indeed a very great book, such as could only be produced by a great mind, and it comprises more wisdom and wit than a score of old English folios could together yield to the most devoted reader.  Some querulous persons there are who affect to consider the present as a shallow age, because, forsooth, huge volumes of learning—­each the labour of a lifetime—­are not now produced.  But the flood-gates of knowledge are now wide open, and, no longer confined within the old, narrow, if deep, channels, learning has spread abroad, like the Nile during the season of its over-flow.  Shallow, it may be, but more widely beneficial, since its life-giving waters are within the reach of all.

Unlike most of our learned old English authors, Saadi did not cast upon the world all that came from the rich mine of his genius, dross as well as fine gold, clay as well as gems.  It is because they have done so that many ponderous tomes of learning and industry stand neglected on the shelves of great libraries.  Time is too precious now-a-days, whatever may have been the case of our forefathers, for it to be dissipated by diving into the muddy waters of voluminous authors in hopes of finding an occasional pearl of wisdom.  And unless some intelligent and painstaking compiler set himself to the task of separating the gold from the rubbish in which it is imbedded in those graves of learning, and present the results of his labour in an attractive form, such works are virtually lost to the world.  For in these high-pressure days, most of us, “like the dogs in Egypt for fear of the crocodiles, must drink of the waters of knowledge as we run, in dread of the old enemy Time.”

Saadi, however, in his Gulistan sets forth only his well-pondered thoughts in the most felicitous and expressive language.  There is no need to form an abstract or epitome of a work in which nothing is superfluous, nothing valueless.  But, as in a cabinet of gems some are more beautiful than others, or as in a garden some flowers are more attractive from their brilliant hues and fragrant odours, so a selection may be made of the more striking tales and aphorisms of the illustrious Persian philosopher.

The preface to the Gulistan is one of the most pleasing portions of the whole book.  Now prefaces are among those parts of books which are too frequently “skipped” by readers—­they are “taken as read.”  Why this should be so, I confess I cannot understand.  For my part, I make a point of reading a preface at least twice:  first, because I would know what reasons my author had for writing his book, and again, having read his book, because the preface, if well written, may serve also as a sort of appendix.  Authors are said to bestow particular pains on their prefaces.