CHAPTER XI. THE USE OF THE LIBRARY.

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In my garden I spend my days, in my library I spend my nights. My interests are divided between my geraniums and my books. With the flowers I am in the present; with the books I am in the past. I go into my library and all history unrolls before me. I breathe the morning air of the world while the scent of Eden’s roses yet lingered in it, while it vibrated only to the world’s first brood of nightingales and to the laugh of Eve.

I see the pyramids building; I hear the shoutings of the armies of Alexander; I feel the ground shake beneath the march of Cambyses. I sit as in a theatre; the stage is Time, the play is the World. What a spectacle it is! What kingly pomp, what processions, file past; what cities burn to heaven, what crowds of captives are carried at the chariot wheels of conquerors! I hear or cry, “Bravo!” when the great actors come on, shaking the stage. I am a Roman emperor when I look at a Roman coin. I lift old Homer, and I shout Achilles in the trenches. The silence of the empeopled Syrian plains, the outcomings and ingoings of the patriarchs, Abraham and Ishmael, Isaac in the fields at eventide, Rebekah at the well, Jacob’s guile, Esau’s face reddened by the desert sunheat, Joseph’s splendid funeral procession—all these things I find within the boards of my Old Testament.

What a silence in those old books, as of a half-peopled world; what bleating of flocks, what green pastoral rest, what indubitable human existence! Across brawling centuries of blood and war I hear the bleating of Abraham’s flocks, the tinkling of the bells of Rebekah’s camels.

Oh, men and women, so far separated yet so near, so strange yet so well known, by what miraculous power do I know you all? Books are the true Elysian fields where the spirits of the dead converse, and into these fields a mortal may venture unappalled. What king’s court can boast such company? What school of philosophy such wisdom?

There is Pan’s pipe; there are the songs of Apollo. Seated in my library at night, and looking on the silent faces of my books, I am occasionally visited by a strange sense of the supernatural. They are not collections of printed pages; they are ghosts. I take one down, and it speaks with me in a tongue not now heard on earth, and of men and things of which it alone possesses the knowledge.

I call myself a solitary, but sometimes I think I misapply the term. No man sees more company than I do. I travel with mightier cohorts around me than ever did Timour or Genghis Khan on their fiery marches. I am a sovereign in my library; but it is the dead, not the living, that attend my levees.

Alexander Smith.

The Free Public Library is often termed the People’s College. It is established by communities that believe education to be the foundation of civic freedom as well as an element in human happiness. By taxation of the people these treasures of books are made free to all: the richest and the poorest alike. Here one’s scanty library is reËnforced by full and rare collections, and the entire care of the custodians is to make this treasure-house useful to all comers.

But the reports of the librarians, encouraging though they be, do not describe a state of general reading. A study of these reports will reveal the fact that only a small part of the ought-to-be reading public finds its way to the library and uses this marvellous opportunity.

If we question why the readers are so few, we shall doubtless arrive at certain conclusions. Aside from the duties and necessities which debar many would-be readers from using the library, we shall conclude that the majority of persons not illiterate who fail to avail themselves of this opportunity have not learned to love books; while many others who have had considerable reading in school or at home have not learned how to make the stores of the library available.

Enough has been said, perhaps, regarding the necessity of teaching children to love books, to the end that they may have wholesome interests and simple and natural pleasures. Books reveal the experience of others, and yield to us the companionship of the wise and good. Sympathetic observation of the lives of boys and girls who have not been trained to this larger interest would drive us to renewed endeavors to open wide the doors to them, out of and away from the temptations which allure them to lower loves. The life that does not know how to find pleasure in a book, that turns to the saloon rather than to the library, is sad indeed. We cannot urge too strongly the early and continual teaching whose object is to make the children book-lovers.

But, if the young book-lover appears at the library door and fails to find the clue to the labyrinth where the words which he desires may be found, he may wander away again, never to return. If his love is strong, and the custodian learns his need, he may study his way into the desired paths; but it is evident to all readers that the library is most available to the best prepared, and that the vast treasures of even the free library are worthless to the ignorant. Further, we can but recognize that home reading and school reading do not always qualify the reader for study in a library. He must be taught how to use it, and somebody must teach him.

Home and school must supply this need. The wise father and mother will go with the children to the library, and there teach them to use books; while in school, the teacher of reading will aim beyond the simple mastery of the text-book. No longer can she content herself with guiding her pupils through the Fifth Reader from page 1 to page 256. With her larger conception of reading, she knows now that her pupils must be taught to unlock other books, and she sets herself to teach them how to do this.

But how?—a practical question. This chapter would avail little did it fail to attempt an answer.

First, by including in her teaching such lessons as will show the use of books as tools. The student who hunts down a subject in the library looks through myriads of books, but he does not read them all. He learns first what books are likely to answer his question. All other books he excludes from his list. He learns further where to look for aid in his selected books, and turns at once to the helpful pages, excluding all others. So he reaches the chapter, the page, the line which contains the desired message, and achieves his end. The untrained worker loses himself in the labyrinth of books, and finds nothing.

Such ability to use books is not a gift; it is earned by thoughtful practice. The power to use reference books comes only through wisely using them. The art begins with the use of the dictionary and the supplementary reader, and here should the teacher first apply herself to teach the use of books of reference.

First, as to the dictionary. All grammar-school classes should be supplied with a good unabridged dictionary, while every pupil should have access to a smaller one, and be taught to use it so constantly that he will consider it an equal necessity with his pocket-knife. Where children buy their own books, the possession of the dictionary should be urged. Ownership is equally desirable where books are supplied by the city or town. Nothing can take the place of it. The dictionary is the student’s commonest tool.

Having dictionaries, the children should be taught to use them. Here they are. What are they? What do they contain? What are they good for? Of what use can they be to you?

A study of the book reveals to us that the dictionary tells us the meaning of unfamiliar words; it may therefore help to explain to us what we read. Or it gives us many meanings of words, in their various uses, thus helping us to choose the fitting one. Again, it shows us the correct spelling and pronunciation of the words which we need to use in reading or speaking; while in our later study it reveals to us the grammatical uses of words, giving good authority for each use, and further explains the derivation or tells the history of the word.

Before leaving the grammar school, children should be able to gather all this help from the dictionary. In the lower grades—fourth and fifth—the lessons will be confined to the study of the dictionary as a means of learning the meaning, spelling, and correct pronunciation of the selected words.

The first step is a study of the arrangement of the book: the title, introduction, preface, keys to pronunciation, rules for spelling; then the lists of words, arranged in alphabetical order. What does that mean? Who knows the meaning of the order of the letters of the alphabet? Test the class to discover this. Often the first lack appears here. By rapid recitation both forward and backward, and varied questions, make this knowledge available here. “Does S come before or after M, U, G, Q, W? In which half of the alphabet shall I find N, L, F, T? etc. I am turning the leaves of the dictionary to find the word ‘Travel.’ I open to a page of words beginning with M. Shall I turn forward or backward?” By such tests oft repeated, dictionary in hand, the children accustom themselves to the alphabetical order. Do not forget that it must be taught. It is not discovered by intuition.

After tracing the word to its letter, it remains to be found upon the page—a more difficult study of alphabetical arrangement. The child who attempts to find the word “Travel” finds the Ta’s, but, with his limited knowledge, stays to rest his eyes upon Table, Tack, Tall, Tank, etc., in his likely-to-be-vain search. Now he must study with his teacher the fuller detail of alphabetical order. The word to be found begins with Tr. Let him leave Ta, Te, Ti to find Tr, and then must he follow on with his finger to Trav; and now slowly through this column to the appointed word.

The order being thus made clear, a double practice should be given, to fix it in his mind: first, finding chosen words in the dictionary in the quickest possible time; second, making lists of words in alphabetical order.

These lessons may seem superfluously simple and mechanical, but it is due to the omission of such teaching that so many hours are wasted in the blind search after the contents of books, and that so many dictionaries are fresh-edged, unused.

Thus far the pupil has simply found the way to his word. Now he must learn to read what the dictionary tells him about it. Here further knowledge is required.

He finds the word so divided and marked as to enable him to pronounce it correctly, if he knows enough. But first he must know how to pronounce the syllables into which it is divided, and to translate the marks used for his benefit. Syllabification and diacritical marks constitute the subject of the next series of lessons.

The first is not so minor a matter as it may seem at first sight. Proper division into syllables is necessary to proper pronunciation of syllables, and a correct naming of the consecutive syllables means correct pronunciation of the word. The children’s trick, which often confounds the scholar, proves this. “Pronounce ba-cka-che,” they demand, dictating the syllables as written. After sufficiently enjoying the scholar’s discomfiture, they pronounce the common word, backache. It is no more than fair to give him a taste of their daily vicissitudes. All teachers know how children are daily lost in the mazes of syllabification. It would be well to avert this evil, and lead to a more helpful reading of the dictionary, by giving lessons whose object is the mastery of syllables. Separating familiar words into their syllables and pronouncing by syllable at sight are excellent exercises, and they may well displace some of the formal and mechanical study of never-to-be-used lists of words.

Many words are mastered for all time as soon as the art of syllabification is learned. For others there remains, however, the need of the diacritical marks.

As teachers know (but as children seldom discover), those marks exist simply as aids to pronunciation. They vary, in different dictionaries. It is, therefore, necessary that children should study the key to pronunciation in the dictionary which they use. As an aid to their memories, an epitome of this key is printed at the bottom of every page, that he who runs may read. If the mark is not recognized, a glance shows them the value of the same marked vowel in a familiar word. The sound of the unfamiliar word is made plain to them if they have learned to read the dictionary. Drill in pronouncing columns of the words found in the dictionary, is an aid to the rapid acquirement of power to translate these equivalents, while, until this power is won, the pupil may be helped by marking familiar words in accordance with the key.

The mastery of the alphabetical arrangement and syllabification and pronunciation being assured, there remains the study of the grouped meanings and the derivation, with attention to grammatical use. As soon as the pupil knows the parts of speech, the various uses of words are made plain to him, and he intelligently follows the dictionary column which exhibits a word as noun, verb, adjective, or adverb. If his object is to discover the verb meaning, he passes the others. If the earlier and perhaps obsolete meanings do not apply, he reads on until the fitting definition is reached. If the definition itself is not plain to him, he “looks up” the unfamiliar words contained in it. But he keeps at work until he has made himself master of the word for whose meaning he sought. Quotations showing standard use are read and considered. The paragraph or sentence containing the new word is re-read, illumined by the new meaning.

Such a lesson has in it the virtue of a language lesson. The new word, with its precious cargo, has become the child’s possession, and he can send it voyaging to ports he desires to reach with his thought. Further, through such exercises, he learns to master books.

The more mature student will carefully con the root-meaning, and follow the word through its devious history. That work, in its detail, must wait for the higher grades and the college. But with such thoroughness as has been outlined, the grammar grade pupil may make the dictionary his strong ally and unfailing friend. It behooves us to teach him the art.

Books of reference should be made available to the pupils, as is the dictionary, by lessons which show their use. The Atlas, the Cyclopedia, the Compendium, should be explained, and opportunities for their use should be created. So all minor books—grammars, histories, geographies—should be consulted by the children, and compared with their own. In such consultation the index or table of contents should serve its purpose. The pupil should not be allowed to search the book from cover to cover for his bit of information, but should be taught to look for it, by the help of the index, in its proper place, just as he learned to find the word on the page of a dictionary. Through such study, children may develop the habit of turning to books for information and enlightenment. They will know how to seek and find. We cannot overestimate easily the value of such a habit and its accompanying tendencies in their after life.

We have spoken thus far of the child’s use of single books under the direction of the teacher. A few words further in regard to the school library, which should be an introduction to the Public Library.

In these days many schools are provided with the nucleus of a library. Every school should have one. A few shelves of books, well chosen and well used—these are next in importance to the teacher in the equipment of a school. By properly using such books, the children learn how to choose and to use their own books when they get them, and meanwhile how best to avail themselves of the Public Library.

In order to afford enough practice in finding what is in the books which are within reach, the teacher should assign to the pupils work which will necessitate the use of these books. The reading lesson speaks of the cultivation of cotton. Ask John or Joseph to learn whether any book in the library throws light on the cultivation or manufacture of cotton. The boy first makes up his mind what books will be likely to contain this information, and then, by use of the indexes in the chosen books, discovers his item, which he brings as his contribution to the class. What he learns about cotton is of far less value to him than what he gains through searching for the item. Again, the history lesson treats of the war for independence. The teacher, instead of confining the pupils to memorizing the work on the pages of the school history, sends them to the bookshelves to consult the English histories which shall tell the children something of George III. and the English statesmen of his time. By and by they have gained not only some facility in the use of books, but the knowledge that some books are of greater use than others in the lines of their study.

It is but a step, now, from the school library to the Public Library, and this step should be taken when the children feel the limitations of their bookshelves. Their quest must take its beginning in their need; not in the teacher’s advice, but in their inclination. John cannot find in any book in the school library what he wants to know about William Pitt. Very well. Does he know any book that would give him the desired information? There may be books at the library, he volunteers. Ah, yes. How can he find out? By going there. Susan suggests that the library catalogue will tell him whether he can find there just what he wishes. And now the school comes into possession of the catalogue of the Free Public Library of the town—owns it because the children need to use it. John finds in the catalogue the names of the books which he thinks may contain the object of his search. Here the teacher helps him by pointing out, from her fuller knowledge, the books which will be simple enough to be of service to him. Or the custodian of the library lends a hand, and names the books which will be most helpful.

We may readily see that here begins another series of lessons which, unfortunately, rarely makes its appearance. Inside the library door, the youthful seeker after light struggles to get the book which he desires. He must learn the machinery of the library, and somebody must teach him. If the teacher knows the librarian and the librarian knows the teacher, and both are interested in the boy, we have a happy state of affairs. His card is filled out for him and properly signed. He is now allowed to take books for himself. He must be told where to get them and how to get them; what to do with them when he gets them; what to do if he cannot get them; how, and when, and where to return them; what privileges he may have in the use of them. Well for the boy if his two friends and co-laborers make it worth while for him to use the library in these early days! Ah, who shall tell us how to correctly mark in per cents the value of this boy’s acquisition, or the worth of the teacher’s instruction?

In many of our cities, this coÖperation of the library and the school exists, and proves its usefulness. Teachers are supplied with teachers’ cards, allowing them to take six books at a time and retain them for a long time. Classes are supplied with books. Boxes of books are carried from school to school. Duplicates of much-desired books are secured from the librarian. Children are taken to the library by the teacher, and the classes study on the spot the operation of the system, and familiarize themselves with its plan of action. Children are sent from school to consult reference books, to study the collections of photographs, or the mural decorations in the building. The Boston Public Library affords an example, not only of stateliness of building and beauty of decoration, but of efficiency of the system by which its recent librarian, Mr. Herbert L. Putnam, did much to bring the library within the reach of the school-children throughout the city.

If we rightly estimate the value of this tendency to read and this love of books, we shall be willing to subordinate some of the formerly accepted work of the schools to this essential tuition. Shall we continue to spend money for our public libraries? If so, let us insure the return of our investment a hundredfold, by fitting our children to make use of the privileges which are thus afforded them, and teaching them to know the best books.


[In response to the requests made by many different teachers, I have prepared a list of books, stories, and poems which are suitable for reading or reciting to children. In all cases the selections have been tested with numbers of children, often with numbers of classes, and the list represents the thoughtful experience of many and different teachers. In choosing, however, the teacher must be guided by her knowledge of her own children. It is unwise to accept without question the judgment of another, who may teach under conditions very different from those which exist in the class of the seeker. Reference to the list may, however, prevent fruitless excursions to the library for unnecessary reading of the books which would be read only to be discarded. It will be safe to make selections from the list for any class in the public schools.—S. L. A.]


Give me leave
T’enjoy myself; that place that does contain
My books, the best companions, is to me
A glorious court, where hourly I converse
With the old sages and philosophers;
And sometimes, for variety, I confer
With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels;
Calling their victories, if unjustly got,
Unto a strict account, and, in my fancy,
Deface their ill-placed statues. Can I then
Part with such constant pleasures to embrace
Uncertain vanities? No; be it your care
T’augment your heap of wealth; it shall be mine
T’increase in knowledge.
Beaumont & Fletcher.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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