And speaking of freedom is not the author free， as few men are free？ Is he not secure， as few men are secure？ The tools of his industry are so common and so cheap that they have almost ceased to have commercial value. He needs no bulky pile of raw material， no elaborate apparatus， no service of men or animals. He is dependent for his occupation upon no one but himself， and nothing outside him that matters. He is the sovereign of an empire， self-supporting， self-contained. No one can sequestrate his estates. No one can deprive him of his stock in trade； no one can force him to exercise his faculty against his will； no one can prevent him exercising it as he chooses. The pen is the great liberator of men and nations. No chains can bind， no poverty can choke， no tariff can restrict the free play of his mind， and even the “Times Book Club” can only exert a moderately depressing inf？luence upon his rewards. Whether his work is good or bad， so long as he does his best he is happy. I often fortify myself amid the uncertainties and vexations of political life by believing that I possess a line of retreat into a peaceful and fertile country where no rascal can pursue and where one need never be dull or idle or ever wholly without power. It is then， indeed， that I feel devoutly thankful to have been born fond of writing. It is then， indeed， that I feel grateful to all the brave and generous spirits who， in every age and in every land， have fought to establish the now unquestioned freedom of the pen.