eresting subject to all
classes, I should unhesitatingly reply "philosophy." Not, perhaps, the
philosophy of the schools, but the individual philosophy that every man
and woman has, and that is precisely alike in no two of us. I have heard a
tiny boy, looking up suddenly from his play, ask "Why do we live?" This
and its correlative "Why do we die?" Whence come we and whither do we go?
What is the universe and what are our relations to it--these questions in
some form have occurred to everyone who thinks at all. They are discussed
around the stove at the corner grocery, in the logging camp, on the ranch,
in clubs and at boarding-house tables. Sometimes they take a theological
turn--free will, the origin and purpose of evil, and so on. I do not
purpose to give here a catalogue of the things in which an ordinary man is
interested, and I have said this only to remind you that his interest may
be vivid even in connection with subjects usually considered abstruse.
This interest in ideas we may call the library's raw material; anything
that tends to create it, to broaden it, to extend it to new fields and to
direct it into paths that are worth while is making it possible for the
library to do better and wider work--is helping on its campaign of
publicity. This establishes a web of connecting fibers between the library
and all human activity. The man who is getting interested in his work,
debaters at a labor union, students at school and college, the worker for
civic reform, the poetic dreamer--all are creating a demand for ideas that
makes it easier for the library to advertise them. Those who object to
some of the outside work done by modern libraries should try to look at
the whole matter from this standpoint. The library is taking its place as
a public utility with other public utilities. Its relations with them are
becoming more evident; the ties between them are growing stronger. As in
all cases of such growth it is becoming increasingly difficult to identify
the boundaries between them, so fast and so thoroughly do the activities
of each reach over these lines and interpenetrate those of the others. And
unless there is actual wasteful duplication of work, we need not bother
about our respective spheres. These activities are all human; they are
mutually interesting and valuable. A library need be afraid of doing
nothing that makes for the spread of interest in ideas, so long as it is
not neglecting its own particular work of