The Guide to Reading | Page 3

He joins Charles Lamb's friends, listens to the prose-poet's
reveries on Dream-Children, then closes his eyes and falls into a reverie
of his own childhood days; or he spends an hour with Tennyson,
charmed by his always musical but not often virile verse, or with
Browning, inspired by his always virile but often rugged verse, or with
Milton or Dante, and forgets this world altogether, with its problems
and perplexities, convoyed to another realm by these spiritual guides;
or he turns to the autobiography of one of the great men of the past,
telling of his achievements, revealing his doubts and difficulties, his
self-conflicts and self-victories, and so inspiring the reader to make his
own life sublime. Or one of the great scientists may interpret to him the
wonders of nature and thrill him with the achievements of man in
solving some of the riddles of the universe and winning successive
mastery over its splendid forces.
It is true that no dead thing is equal to a living person. The one
afternoon I spent in John G. Whittier's home, the one dinner I took with
Professor Tyndall in his London home, the one half hour which Herbert
Spencer gave to me at his Club, mean more to me than any equal time
spent in reading the writings of either one of them. These occasions of
personal fellowship abide in the memory as long as life lasts. This I say
with emphasis that what I say next may not be misunderstood--that
there is one respect in which the book is the best of possible friends.
You do not need to decide beforehand what friend you will invite to
spend the evening with you. When supper is over and you sit down by

the evening lamp for your hour of companionship, you give your
invitation according to your inclination at the time. And if you have
made a mistake, and the friend you have invited is not the one you want
to talk to, you can "shut him up" and not hurt his feelings. Remarkable
is the friend who speaks only when you want to listen and can keep
silence when you want silence. Who is there who has not been
sometimes bored by a good friend who went on talking when you
wanted to reflect on what he had already said? Who is there who has
not had his patience well nigh exhausted at times by a friend whose
enthusiasm for his theme appeared to be quite inexhaustible? A book
never bores you because you can always lay it down before it becomes
a bore.
Most families can do with a few books that are tools. In these days in
which there is a library in almost every village, the family that has an
atlas, a dictionary, and a cyclopædia can look to the public library for
such other tools as are necessary. And we can depend on the library or
the book club for books that are mere acquaintances--the current book
about current events, the books that are read to-day and forgotten
to-morrow, leaving only a residuum in our memory, the book that, once
read, we never expect to read again. In my own home this current
literature is either borrowed and returned or, if purchased, as soon as it
has been used is passed along to neighbors or to the village library. Its
room is better than its company on my over-crowded book shelves.
But books that are friends ought to abide in the home. The very form of
the book grows familiar; a different edition, even a different copy, does
not quite serve the same friendly purpose. If the reader is wise he talks
to his friend as well as listens to him and adds in pencil notes, in the
margin or on the back pages of the book, his own reflections. I take up
these books marked with the indications of my conversation with my
friend and in these pencilled memoranda find an added value.
Sometimes the mark emphasizes an agreement between my friend and
me, sometimes it emphasizes a disagreement, and sometimes it
indicates the progress in thought I have made since last we met. A
wisely marked book is sometimes doubled in value by the marking.

Before I bring this essay to a close, already lengthened beyond my
predetermined limits, I venture to add four rules which may be of value
at least to the casual reader.
For reading, select the book which suits your inclination. In study it is
wise to make your will command your mind and go on with your task
however unattractive it may prove to you. You may be a Hamiltonian,
and Jefferson's views of the Constitution may repel you, or even bore
you. No matter. Go on. Scholarship requires persistence in