hat can a librarian do to make his library an inspirational force? In
the first place he must be as accessible as a turnpike road. It seems to
me that he can do more good by talking to people than in any other way.
To do this, of course, it is a prerequisite that he should know
something. I have no faith in the miserable heresy that a librarian who
reads is lost. A librarian who does not read would better not be found
in the first place. A librarian who does not read is simply a stable
keeper for books. He may see to it that they are well blanketed,
groomed, and put in the proper stalls, and that the various implements
about his stable are kept in good order; but such a librarian will never
be mistaken for an intellectual giant in his community. Let him know the
books he handles so that he can talk with schoolgirls about Sophie May
and Virginia Townsend, and with boys about Henty and Brooks and Knox and
Butterworth. Let him be able to discuss Herbert Spencer and David Harum
with equal zest, and know something about Kant and a good deal about
Kipling, and venerate Marcus Aurelius, and not despise Mark Twain. His
mind should be a live coal in its love for books, and then nestle up to
other minds and let them get ignited also.

But it may be said that a librarian hasn't the time for such extensive
reading. Did you ever know a boy who couldn't find time to play? One
always finds time to do the thing he loves to do; and a man who has a
genuine love for reading will find time for it even in a library.

One of the greatest longings that any soul can have is a longing for
some one to talk with who is interested in identical subjects.

A librarian, through personal intercourse, can become a powerfully
educative influence in his community, and start intellectual impulses
that will not subside during his lifetime, but go on widening and
blessing indefinitely. Let him become the father confessor of minds in
his town or city; the priest of the intellect, to whom all men shall
bring all their mental problems, all their dubious enigmas of the brain.
He will not be able to solve all their puzzles or untie all their knots;
but perhaps he will be able to hold the candle for a little while, while
they struggle with the knots themselves. Let him always hold the candle,
and talk pleasantly while he is holding it.

This matter of being pleasant in a library is really the first and
great commandment. There should be an air of welcome inside