s to those who have a native
love of work, and it is a fact not to be doubted that work of some kind
is the only salvation of every human creature.

Upon the whole, if the calling of the librarian involves many trials and
vexations, it has also many notable compensations. Foremost among these
is to be reckoned the fact that it opens more and wider avenues to
intellectual culture than any other profession whatever. This comes in a
two-fold way: first, through the stimulus to research given by the
incessant inquiries of readers, and by the very necessity of his being,
as a librarian; and secondly, by the rare facilities for investigation
and improvement supplied by the ample and varied stores of the library
always immediately at hand. Other scholars can commonly command but few
books, unless able to possess a large private library: their researches
in the public one are hampered by the rule that no works of reference can
be withdrawn, and that constitutes a very large and essential class,
constantly needed by every scholar and writer. The librarian, on the
other hand, has them all at his elbow.

In the next place, there are few professions which are in themselves so
attractive as librarianship. Its tendency is both to absorb and to
satisfy the intellectual faculties. No where else is the sense of
continual growth so palpable; in no other field of labor is such an
enlargement of the bounds of one's horizon likely to be found. Compare it
with the profession of teaching. In that, the mind is chained down to a
rigorous course of imparting instruction in a narrow and limited field.
One must perforce go on rehearsing the same rudiments of learning,
grinding over the same Latin gerunds, hearing the same monotonous
recitations, month after month, and year after year. This continual
threshing over of old straw has its uses, but to an ardent and active
mind, it is liable to become very depressing. Such a mind would rather be
kept on the _qui vive_ of activity by a volley of questions fired at him
every hour in a library, than to grind forever in an intellectual
tread-mill, with no hope of change and very little of relief. The very
variety of the employments which fill up the library hours, the
versatility required in the service, contributes to it a certain zest
which other professions lack.

Again, the labors of the librarian bring him into an intimate knowledge
of a wide range of books, or at least an acquaintance with authors