What is true of assemblies and clubs is also true of the selection and use of books.  A book purchased in response to a demand is worth a dozen bought because the librarian thinks the library ought to have them.  The possibilities of free suggestion by the community are, it seems to me, far from realized, yet even as it is, I believe that librarians have an unexampled opportunity of feeling out promising tendencies in this great flutter of educational impulses all about us, and so of selecting the right ones and helping them on.

Almost while I have been writing this I have been visited by a delegate from the foundrymen’s club—­an organization that wants more books on foundry practice and wants them placed together in a convenient spot.  Such a visit is of course a heaven-sent opportunity and I suppose I betrayed something of my pleasure in my manner.  My visitor said, “I am so glad you feel this way about it; we have been meaning for some time to call on you, but we were in doubt about how we should be received.”  Such moments are humiliating to the librarian.  Great heavens!  Have we advertised, discussed, talked and plastered our towns with publicity, only to learn at last that the spokesman of a body of respectable men, asking legitimate service, rather expects to be kicked downstairs than otherwise when he approaches us?  Is our publicity failing in quantity or in quality?

Whatever may be the matter, it is in response to demands like this that the library must play its part in community education.  Here as elsewhere it is the foundrymen who are the important factors—­their attitude, their desires, their capabilities.  Our function is that of the organ pipe—­to pick out the impulse, respond to it and give it volume and carrying power.  The community will educate itself whether we help or not.  It is permeated by lines of intelligence as the magnetic field is by lines of force.  Thrust in a bit of soft iron and the force-lines will change their direction in order to pass through the iron.  Thrust a book into the community field, and its lines of intelligence will change direction in order to take in the contents of the book.  If we could map out the field we should see great masses of lines sweeping through our public libraries.

All about us we see men who tell us that they despair of democracy; that at any rate, whatever its advantages, democracy can never be “efficient.”  Efficient for what?  Efficiency is a relative quality, not absolute.  A big German howitzer would be about as inefficient a tool as could be imagined, for serving an apple-pie.  Beside, democracy is a goal; we have not reached it yet; we shall never reach it if we decide that it is undesirable.  The path toward it is the path of Nature, which leads through conflicts, survivals, and modifications.  Part of it is the path of community education, which I believe to be efficient in that it is leading on toward a definite goal.  Part of Nature is man, with his desires, hopes and abilities.  Some men, and many women, are librarians, in whom these desires and hopes have definite aims and in whom the corresponding abilities are more or less developed.  We are all thus cogs in Nature’s great scheme for community education; let us be intelligent cogs, and help the movement on instead of hindering it.