It is natural that men who write books should be the most appreciative readers, and they are moved by their love of reading to tell others the value of books. Often this is done by comparing books with other things. Thus, Theodore Parker, a great thinker, writer, and preacher, compares them with ships, saying: “A great book is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth, with beauty too, It sails the ocean, driven by the winds of heaven, breaking the level sea of life into beauty where it goes, leaving behind it a train of sparkling loveliness, widening as the ship goes on.” Lowell likens the ability to read to a key “which admits us to the whole world of thought and fancy and imagination, to the company of saint and sage, of the wisest and wittiest at their wisest and wittiest moments.” This would make a book, by the same metaphor, a doorway. Others compare books to treasure-chests—Ruskin, for example, in “Sesame and Lilies”; but the treasure in the chest is grain—sesame—not gold.
Who of our readers will tell us to what else books have been compared?
Hawks and Story-books.
In earlier days the farmers’ boys used to run for the gun whenever a hawk was seen wheeling in the air, and many an innocent bird was slain because some hawks do now and then kill a chicken. But to-day, we hope, the farmers know better, and have taught their boys that most hawks do more good than harm, and that only a few kinds are the farmers’ enemies.
There was a time, not so many years ago, when it was considered by many parents a waste of time to read any but “serious books,” and all story-books were rather frowned upon. Even when Sir Walter Scott was writing his wonderful Waverley Novels, one reason he had for concealing his authorship was the fear that his story-writing would be thought undignified. To-day it has been learned that among stories, as among hawks, there are the harmful and the helpful kinds. Yet still there are some traces of the old feeling, and some children are constantly advised to choose the “serious books” or “solid reading.” A story told of himself by a historian will shed some light on this question, He said that after he had tried for some years to acquaint himself with life in Byzantium, he could acquire only the vaguest idea of it from the historians, but when he read Scott's “Count Robert of Paris” the period seemed to come at once to life in his mind. So much for a good story-writer as compared to historians with less imagination.
The Little Brothers and Sisters
All of us who are readers are like travelers in the great Land of Literature, and as we go on our journeys we find which roads are best, quickest, and pleasantest. When our small brothers and sisters are setting out in the same magic country, we may save them much stumbling by giving good advice as to how to travel and where to go. We find our reward in their sharing of our pleasures, in repeating the same routes, and thus we renew our own pleasant recollections. Elder brothers and sisters may thus come to have a reputation as good pilots or guides, and in that case their advice will be gladly taken, But they must not assume to direct the smaller readers too rigidly, for individual tastes, like mistakes, occur “even in the best-regulated families.”
Finishing What is Begun.
We should be glad to hear from some of our wise readers upon the question whether it is well to persevere in reading a book one does not enjoy. There seem to be good arguments to be urged in favor of each course. At all events, there must be discretion used. To force one’s self to read a dull and stupid book seems a waste of time; to drop a book as soon as its reading requires a little effort is quite as foolish if the book be a good one. Which is the right course?
Leigh Hunt.
Born just about at the end of our Revolution, Leigh Hunt was educated at the same school as Lamb and Coleridge. He became a writer for the press, but all his life he was more a book-lover than a journalist. Few have spoken of books with more affection, and Macaulay said he had “the power of justly appreciating and heartily enjoying good things of very different kinds,” and Lowell said he was “as pure-minded a man as ever lived.”
His essay on “My Books” will be enjoyed by every young reader, especially where he tells which old writers really cared for books, and gives his reasons for his judgment of them. He shows that “our four great English poets,” Chaucer, Spencer, Shakspere, and Milton, were all book-lovers; otherwise, he declares, Shakspere could never have been willing to retire to Stratford before old age.
Leigh Hunt is a delightful friend, who will chat with you delightfully, and leave you glad of the time spent over his writings.
Christmas to the Lover of Books.
It is a great mistake to choose Christmas books entirely by covers and guess-work; and it is well to remember that it is better to postpone a gift for a few days rather than to buy a poor book. If you feel that you must buy books without reading them, you can at least select something published by firms of good reputation, knowing that they will be careful what is sent out under their names. It is not a bad plan to buy one or two volumes of a standard set, trusting to later purchases or birthdays, Christmas, and other present-giving occasions to complete the set gradually.
A New Use for St. Nicholas.
If you like, you can make this magazine useful to you as a suggestion of topics for your reading. Thus, if you take up the September number, see what interesting subjects it touches upon. Of course, the few articles in any one number can do no more than tell a very little of their subjects, and every one of them may be more fully studied in books. The article on “Brittany,” for instance, may lead you ta an acquaintance with all that picturesque region. Go to a library and see what a large list of books can be found dealing with these quaint people and their queer land, The Japanese serial takes you to another quarter of the world, as different as possible and even more fascinating. In your old numbers of St. Nicholas will be found a score of articles telling about these remarkable “Yankees of the
East”—of their holidays, their customs, their shrines, and gardens. The story of the diver, too, brings to mind another realm of wonders, the submarine world, where all is unfamiliar and fairylike, ‘Elinor Arden” makes history seem alive, while “The Children of Zuñi” serves to remind us that our own land has a storied past, and the article on “London” serves by reminding the reader that our English cousins are mindful of our present.
The Bookcase.
It is not necessary to have a large and imposing case for your books in order to feel that they are well taken care of, but there are certain things you might insist upon. One is that your books should not be in danger of falling to the floor and breaking their backs, spraining their bindings, or crushing their comers. Therefore they should not be put into some flimsy set of hanging shelves, likely to come tumbling down at any moment. Better have a strong, if
plain, set of shelves standing firmly on the floor. Next, remember not to crush the books together until they crack, or to leave so few to a shelf that they are always tipping this way and that, wrenching the pages out of the covers.
Better a few books taken care of and read than a large library neglected. Better fewer books and of better quality.
Choice Books for Children.
If a child loves books at al], you can hardly begin too early to intrust her or him (there is no reason for always saying “him”) with really valuable books. The fine book sets a standard of treatment for the rest. If the child has only cheap, flimsy volumes, always coming to pieces, a book will seem to be worthy of no care, and the library will not be valued. But a choice work, beautifully bound, is so charming a possession that it will be sure of respectful treatment, and the owner will come to see that a book is, or may be, a matter worth consideration. There are in second-hand stores thousands of good books that cost no more than the poorly printed works, despised by all who think book-making an art. Buy good books, and you help to bring good books into the market; for the public receives what it asks for.
