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 the collection, preservation and distribution of ideas as stored in books, and is not duplicating other’s work wastefully.

When we observe those who are already interested in ideas, however, we find that not all are interested in them as they are stored up in books.  Some of these cannot read; their number is small with us and growing smaller; we may safely leave the schools to deal with them.  Others can read, but they do not easily apprehend ideas through print.  Some of these must read aloud so that they may get the sound of the words, before these really mean anything to them.  These persons need practice in reading.  They get it now largely through the newspapers, but their number is still large.  A person in this condition may be intellectually somewhat advanced.  He may be able to discuss single-tax with some acumen, for instance.  It is a mistake to suppose that because a person understands a subject or likes a thing and is able to talk well about it, he will enjoy and appreciate a book on that subject or thing.  It may be as difficult for him to get at the meat of it as if it were a half-understood foreign tongue.  You who know enough French to buy a pair of gloves or sufficient German to inquire the way to the station, may tackle a novel in the original and realize at once the hazy degree of such a persons’ apprehension.  He may stick to it and become an easy reader, but on the other hand your well-meant publicity efforts may place in his hands a book that will simply discourage and ultimately repel him, sending him to join the army of those to whom no books appeal.