WHEN Sir Robert Walpole was dismissed from all his employments he retired to Houghton and walked into the Library; when, pulling down a book and holding it some minutes to his eyes, he suddenly and seeming sullenly exchanged it for another. He held that about half as long, and looking out a third returned it instantly to its shelf and burst into tears. `I have led a life of business so long,' said he, `that I have lost my taste for reading, and now—what shall I do?'