"Thank you a thousand times, my dear Money——"
"Thank you a thousand times, my dear Money——"
"We are very friendly, you see, Miss Grey," he said, breaking off. "But it's not any peculiar friendship for me. She always calls men by their names after the first interview."
"She generally addressed papa as 'my dear,' without any proper name appended," said Lucy, who did not much like Lady Limpenny. "She always likes the men of a family and always hates the women."
"Lucy, my dear," her mother pleaded, "how can you say so? Laura Limpenny and I are true friends."
"She is giving us good help with our schools and our church," Theresa Money said; "and Reginald" (Theresa's engaged lover) "thinks very highly of her."
"She always praises men, and they all think highly of her," Lucy persisted; "and it is something to be Lady Anything."
"I assure you, Miss Grey," Mrs. Money said, "that Lady Limpenny is the most sincere and unpretending creature. She is not an aristocrat—she has nothing to do with aristocracy; if she had, there could be little sympathy, as you may well believe, between her and me, for you know my convictions. The aristocracies of this country are its ruin! When England falls—and the hour of her fall is near—it will not be due to beings like Laura Limpenny."
"There I agree with you, dear," Mr. Money gravely said. "Shall I go on?"
He went on:
"Thank you a thousand times, my dear Money, for your wise and Christianlike advice. I will keep my china. I am convinced now that my ideas of yesterday were wrong, and even sinful. I had a charming talk with a dear æsthetic man last evening, after I saw you, and he assures me that my china is a collection absolutely unique; and that, if I were to part with it, Mrs. De Vallancey would manage, at any cost, or by any contrivance, to get hold of it; and your darling wife knows how I hate Mrs. De Vallancey. I now feel that it is my duty to keep the china, and that a love for the treasures of art is in itself an act of homage to the Great Creator of all."My sweetest love to your darling wife and angel girls. Kind regards to the young lady with the hair; and when you see our dear friend Heron do tell him that I expect him to call on mevery soon."Ever yours,"Laura Limpenny."
"Thank you a thousand times, my dear Money, for your wise and Christianlike advice. I will keep my china. I am convinced now that my ideas of yesterday were wrong, and even sinful. I had a charming talk with a dear æsthetic man last evening, after I saw you, and he assures me that my china is a collection absolutely unique; and that, if I were to part with it, Mrs. De Vallancey would manage, at any cost, or by any contrivance, to get hold of it; and your darling wife knows how I hate Mrs. De Vallancey. I now feel that it is my duty to keep the china, and that a love for the treasures of art is in itself an act of homage to the Great Creator of all.
"My sweetest love to your darling wife and angel girls. Kind regards to the young lady with the hair; and when you see our dear friend Heron do tell him that I expect him to call on mevery soon.
"Ever yours,
"Laura Limpenny."
"'Our dear friend Heron,'" exclaimed Lucy in surprise and anger. "Does she know Mr. Heron so well as that?"
"She met him here yesterday for the first time," Mr. Money said; "but that's quite enough for Lady Limpenny. She has taken a violent liking to him already, and enrolls him among her dear friends. Seriously, she would be rather a useful person for Heron to know. She knows every one, and will do anything. Her husband attends all the old women of quality, and a good many of the young women too. I shouldn't be surprised if Sir James Limpenny—or his wife—could get Heron a hearing from some great personage."
"I am sure he won't do that," said Lucy warmly. "I don't believe Mr. Heron would condescend to be helped on in that sort of way."
"Why not?" Minola asked. "I think Lady Limpenny is a more creditable ally than a person like Mr. St. Paul. If a man wants to succeed in life, I suppose he must try all the usual arts."
"I didn't think you would have said that of Mr. Heron, Nola," said Lucy, hurt and wondering.
Nola did not think she would have said it herself twelve hours ago. Why she said it now she could not tell. Perhaps she was womanish enough to feel annoyed at the manner in which Lucy seemed to appropriate Victor Heron's cause, and womanish enough too to relieve her mind by saying disparaging things of him.
Mr. Money's eyes twinkled with an amused smile.
"See how you wrong a man sometimes, you ladies—even the most reasonable among you. Heron is more Quixotic than you think, Miss Grey. I have had a letter from him this very morning about St. Paul. I'll read it if you like—it need not be kept secret from anybody here."
Mrs. Money and Lucy earnestly asked to have the letter read, and Mr. Money read it accordingly:
"My Dear Money: I don't like St. Paul, and I won't march through Coventry with him. I think he is unprincipled and discreditable, and if I can't get in for Keeton without his helping hand, I'll stay out of Keeton, and that's all aboutthat. I know you will agree with me when you think this over. Excuse haste and abruptness. I want to make my position clear to you without any loss of time."Yours faithfully,"Victor Heron."
"My Dear Money: I don't like St. Paul, and I won't march through Coventry with him. I think he is unprincipled and discreditable, and if I can't get in for Keeton without his helping hand, I'll stay out of Keeton, and that's all aboutthat. I know you will agree with me when you think this over. Excuse haste and abruptness. I want to make my position clear to you without any loss of time.
"Yours faithfully,
"Victor Heron."
"Now, Nola, you see you were wrong," the triumphant Lucy exclaimed.
"I do not like Mr. St. Paul," the quiet Theresa observed. "He seems to me godless and demoralized. He spake in the lightest and most scoffing way of the labors of the Church among the heathen populations."
"I liked him," Mrs. Money sighed. "I liked him because he had the spirit to resign his rank and fling away his title."
"I think his rank rather resigned him," Mr. Money observed. "Anyhow, one must in the ordinary world consent to take up with a scamp now and then. Heron says he won't have anything to do with St. Paul, and Lucy undertakes to say for him that he won't be patronized by Lady Limpenny. I ask you all calmly, as civilized and Christian beings, how is a young fellow to get on in London who won't consent to be helped by scamps and old women."
"Mr. Heron represents a political cause," the eager Lucy began.
Her father looked quietly round at her.
"Why, Lucelet, my dear, when did you come to know anything about political causes, or to care about them? I thought you only cared for the renascence of art—isn't it renascence you call it? I understood that politics were entirely beneath the notice of all your school. Pray tell me, Mistress Politician, to which side of politics your father belongs?"
"Oh, papa, for shame! What nonsense! As if I didn't know. Of course you are a Liberal—an advanced Liberal."
"Good; and our friend Heron?"
"An advanced Liberal too. Of course I know that you are on his side."
"That I am on his side? That he is on my side wouldn't do, I suppose, although I am somewhat the elder, and I am in Parliament while he is not in, and is not particularly likely to be if he continues to be so squeamish. What are the political views of our young friend the artist, the poet, the bard, or whatever you please to call him?"
"Mr. Blanchet?" Lucy slightly colored.
"Mr. Blanchet, yes. Am I on his side?"
"Oh, he has no side. He knows nothing of politics," Lucy said contemptuously.
"Stupid of him, isn't it?"
"Very stupid. At least, I suppose so; I don't know. Oh, yes; I think every man ought to understand politics."
Mr. Money smiled, and let the subject drop.
When breakfast was over, Mr. Money suddenly said,
"Miss Grey, you always profess to know something about politics. Anyhow, you know something about Keeton folks, and you can give me some useful hints about their ways with which I can instruct our dear friend Heron, as Lady Limpenny calls him. Would you mind coming to my study for a quarter of an hour, away from all this womankind, and answering me a few questions?"
Minola was a little surprised, but showed no surprise, and only said that she would be delighted, of course. Mr. Money offered her his arm with a somewhat old-fashioned courtesy which contrasted not unbecomingly with his usual cheery bluntness of manner to women and men alike.
"Not many ladies come here, Miss Grey," Money said, offering her a chair when they were in the study. "Lucelet looks in very often, to be sure, but only as a messenger; she doesn't come into council."
"Do I come into council?" Minola asked with a smile and a little of heightened color. "I shall feel myself of great importance."
"Well, yes, into council. First about yourself. I have been looking into your affairs a little, Miss Grey—don't be angry; we are all fond of you in this house, and you don't seem to have any one in particular to look after your interests."
"It was very kind and good of you. I have not many friends, Mr. Money; but I am afraid the word 'interests' is rather too large for any affairs of mine. Have I any interests? Mary Blanchet understands all my affairs much better than I do."
"Yes, they may be called interests, I think. You know that anybody who likes can find out everything about people's wills, and all that. Do you know anything about your father's will?"
"No," Minola said, with a start, and feeling the tears coming to her eyes. "I don't, Mr. Money. At least, not much. I know that he left me some money—so much every year; not much—it would not be much for Lucy—but enough for me and Mary Blanchet. Mary Blanchet manages it for me, and makes it go twice as far as I could. We never spend it all—I mean, we haven't spent it all this year. I should never be able to manage or to get on at all only for her."
Minola spoke with eagerness now, for she was afraid that she was about to receive some of the advice which worldly people call wise, and to be admonished of the improvidence of sharing her little purse with Mary Blanchet.
"And, indeed, I ought to do something for her—something particular," she hastened to add, for she was seized with a sudden fear that Mr. Money might have heard somewhere of her resolve to have Mr. Blanchet's poems printed at her own expense, and might proceed to remonstrate with her.
Mr. Money smiled, seeing completely through her, and only thinking to himself that she was a remarkably good girl, and that he much wished he had a son to marry her.
"Do you know what I was thinking of?" he asked bluntly.
"I am sure you were thinking about me, for you laughed—at my ignorance of business ways, I suppose?"
"Not at all; I was thinking that I should like to have a son, and that I should like you to marry him."
Minola laughed and colored, but took his words as they were meant, in all good humor and kindness.
"If you had a son, Mr. Money, I am sure I would marry him if you asked me, and he——"
"Thank you. Well, I am only sorry I can't take you at your word. But that wasn't exactly what I brought you here to tell you. What I want to tell you is this. You are likely to have a good deal of property of one kind and another, Miss Grey. Your father, I find, made a good deal of money in his time, and saved it; bought houses and built houses; bought up annuities, insurances, shares in companies—all manner of things. He only left his property to his present wife for her use of what it brings every year during her life. At her death it all comes to you, and I'm told she can't live long."
"Oh, but she may. I hope and pray that she may," Minola exclaimed. "It seems shocking to watch for a woman's death, especially when we were not very friendly to each other. I don't want the money; I have enough—quite enough. I shouldn't know what to do with it. I don't care much about new dresses, and bonnets, and the fashions, and all that; and what could I do with money, living alone in my quiet way? I think a girl of my age, living all to herself, and having much money, would be perfectly ridiculous. Why could not her husband get it, if the poor creature dies? That would be only right. I am sure he may have it for me."
"He mayn't have it for me though," Mr. Money said. "You have no one, it seems to me, to look after your interests, and I'll take the liberty to do so, for lack of a better, whether you like it or not. However, we can talk about that when the time comes."
Minola gave a sort of shudder.
"When the time comes. That seems so dreadful; as if we were only waiting for the poor woman to be dead to snatch at whatever she left behind her. Mr. Money, is there really no other way? must I have this property?"
"If she dies before you, yes—it will come to you. Of course you know that it isn't great wealth in the London sense. It won't constitute you an heiress in the Berkeley Square sense, but it will give you a good deal of miscellaneous property for a young woman. Well, as to that, I'll see that you get your rights; and the only thing I have to ask is just that you will not do anything decided, or anything at all, in this business, without consulting me."
"Oh, indeed, I can faithfully promise you that. I have no other friend whom I could possibly consult, or who would take any interest in me."
"Come, now, I can't believe that. If you wish, you can be like the young lady in Sheridan's song—friends in all the aged you'll meet, and lovers in the young."
"I don't want to be like her in that."
"In having friends in all the aged?"
"Oh, I don't know; in anything. I am well content with the friends I have."
"Well, some of them, at least, are well content with you. Now, Miss Grey, I want to speak to you of something that concerns me. You and my daughter Lucy are great friends?"
Minola almost started.
"I am very fond of Lucy."
"And she is very fond of you. We all are for that matter. Did you ever hear of an old Scottish saying about a person having a face like a fiddle—not in shape, you know, but in power of attracting people, and rousing sympathy?"
"Yes. I think I remember it in some of Scott's novels."
"Very well. I think you have a face like a fiddle; all our sympathies are drawn to you. Now that is why I speak to you of something which I wouldn't talk about to any other woman of your age—not even to my own daughter Theresa, an excellent creature, but not over sympathetic. I am very fond of my Lucelet. She isn't strong; she hasn't great intelligence. I know my little goose is not a swan, but she is very sweet, and sensitive, and loving: the most affectionate little creature that ever was made happy or unhappy by a man. I am morbidly anxious about her happiness. Now, you are her friend, and a thousand times cleverer and stronger than she, and she looks up to you. She would tell you anything.Hasshe told you anything lately?"
Minola hesitated.
"Oh, you needn't hesitate, or think of any breach of confidence. You may tell me. I could get it all from herself in a moment. It isn't about that I want to ask you. Well, I'll save you all trouble. She has told you something."
"She has."
"She is in love!"
Minola assented.
Mr. Money ran his hand through his hair, got up and walked a turn or two up and down the study.
"The other day she was a child, and cared for nobody in the world but her mother and me! Now a young fellow comes along, and, like the Earl of Lowgave's lassie in the old song, she does not love her mammy nor she does not love her daddy."
"Oh, but I don't think that at all," Miss Grey said earnestly. "No girl could be fonder of her father and mother."
Mr. Money smiled good-humoredly, but with a look of pity, as one who corrects an odd mistake.
"I know that very well, Miss Grey, and I was not speaking seriously, or grumbling at my little lassie. But it does astonish us elderly parents, when we find out all of a sudden that there are other persons more important than we in the eyes of our little maidens, and we may as well relieve our minds by putting the feeling into words. Well, you know the hero of this little romance?"
Minola was looking steadily at the fire, and away from Mr. Money. She did not answer at once, and there was a pause. The suddenness of the silence aroused her.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Money. I know who he is," she said, without looking round.
"Very well. Now comes the delicate part of my questioning. Of course you can't be expected to read the secrets of other people's hearts, and I suppose you are not inhisconfidence."
"No, indeed," she said very quietly.
"No—you couldn't tell how he feels toward my Lucelet?"
Minola shook her head.
"If I were a man, I am sure I should be in love with her," she said.
"You think so? Yes, perhaps so; but in this case, somehow——. Well, Miss Grey, another question, and then I'll release you, and speak to me frankly, like a true girl to a plain man, who treats her as such. Is there any woman, as far as you know, who is more to him than Lucelet?"
Mr. Money had now come near to where Minola was sitting. He stood leaning against the chimney-piece, and looking fixedly into her face. At first she did not even understand the meaning of his question. Then suddenly she felt that her cheeks began to burn and her heart to beat. She looked up in wonder and pain, but she saw so much of earnestness and anxiety in Mr. Money's face that it would have been impossible not to understand and respect his purpose. In his anxiety for his daughter's happiness his whole soul was absorbed. Minola's heart forgot its own pain for the moment. Her own memory of a father was not of one thus unselfishly absorbed. She answered without hesitation, and with quiet self-possession.
"Oh, no, Mr. Money. I know of no such woman. So far as I can guess, none such exists."
Mr. Money drew a deep breath, and his eyes brightened.
"Miss Grey," he said, "I think any other woman in the world would have told me she wasn't in Mr.—inhissecrets, or given me some evasive or petulant answer. I thank you a thousand times. We may then—I may—pursue without compunction my matchmaking schemes. They are not very selfish; they are only for Lucelet's happiness. I would ask one of my office clerks to marry her if she loved him and he was likely to make her happy; and I would set them up in life. You may guess, then, whether this idea pleases me. But I confess I didn't think—well, of course, your assurance is enough, but I began to think of something different."
Minola rose to go away.
"One word, Miss Grey. Pray don't say anything to my wife about this. She is the truest and kindest of women, as you know, but she can't understand keeping anything a secret, and she always begs of us to leave her out of the smallest plot of the most innocent kind, because she must let it all out prematurely. Now I'll release you, and you have, at all events, one friend in life to be going on with—friend among the aged I mean; the rest will come fast enough."
With a bewildered head and a bursting heart, Minola found her way to her own room.
MOHEGAN-HUDSON.
Wherethe northern forest flingsIts shadows over weeping hills,Rivulets rise in myriad springsAnd run to meet in roaring kills.Soon from these a great stream grows;Grows—and grows more strong and free,Till a noble river flows;Flows majestic to the sea.Born of Adirondac tears,Nursed by storms of Katterskill,Yet a smiling face it wears,Rolls in tranquil silence still.Gliding first o'er sands of glass,Then 'midst grassy meads estray,Now it shoots the highland pass,Hurrying southward on its way.River, but the sea as well;Steady drift and changing tide;Here may float a cockle-shell,Or the ocean navies ride.'T is the sea in landscape set;'T is the sea, by limits bound;But it is the river yet,Flowing through enchanted ground.Countless wealth its currents bear,Wrought from forest, field, and mine;Giant steamships o'er it fare,Clouds of sails in sunlight shine.Through the darkness, as in light,Sail the constant fleets the same;While along the shores at nightFurnace fires perpetual flame.In the bright October days,While I float upon the stream,Mellowed by transfiguring haze,All is like a fairy dream:Groves and gardens, towns and towers,Mountain tops and vales between,As the gods had builded bowersScarce concealed and scarcely seen.Thine no borrowed glories! thine,Matchless river! are thy own!O'er thy scenes no false lights shineFrom the ages dead and gone.Round no castles' crumbling wallsTroops of knightly spectres throng,And within no ruined hallsThrills the spectre maiden's song;Save when dusky phantoms glide,Still intent on savage rites,Or when he of SunnysideMarshals his fantastic sprites:Then we seem again to hearWar-whoops echoing 'midst the hills,And old Hendrick's lusty cheerAs the wind his canvas fills.As Mohegan, ages old,Though for ever self-renewed,Through unbroken forests rolledAll thy floods in solitude:But as Hudson, now and ever,Distant lands repeat thy name,And the world, O glorious river!Stands the guardian of thy fame.
Wherethe northern forest flingsIts shadows over weeping hills,Rivulets rise in myriad springsAnd run to meet in roaring kills.Soon from these a great stream grows;Grows—and grows more strong and free,Till a noble river flows;Flows majestic to the sea.
Wherethe northern forest flings
Its shadows over weeping hills,
Rivulets rise in myriad springs
And run to meet in roaring kills.
Soon from these a great stream grows;
Grows—and grows more strong and free,
Till a noble river flows;
Flows majestic to the sea.
Born of Adirondac tears,Nursed by storms of Katterskill,Yet a smiling face it wears,Rolls in tranquil silence still.Gliding first o'er sands of glass,Then 'midst grassy meads estray,Now it shoots the highland pass,Hurrying southward on its way.
Born of Adirondac tears,
Nursed by storms of Katterskill,
Yet a smiling face it wears,
Rolls in tranquil silence still.
Gliding first o'er sands of glass,
Then 'midst grassy meads estray,
Now it shoots the highland pass,
Hurrying southward on its way.
River, but the sea as well;Steady drift and changing tide;Here may float a cockle-shell,Or the ocean navies ride.'T is the sea in landscape set;'T is the sea, by limits bound;But it is the river yet,Flowing through enchanted ground.
River, but the sea as well;
Steady drift and changing tide;
Here may float a cockle-shell,
Or the ocean navies ride.
'T is the sea in landscape set;
'T is the sea, by limits bound;
But it is the river yet,
Flowing through enchanted ground.
Countless wealth its currents bear,Wrought from forest, field, and mine;Giant steamships o'er it fare,Clouds of sails in sunlight shine.Through the darkness, as in light,Sail the constant fleets the same;While along the shores at nightFurnace fires perpetual flame.
Countless wealth its currents bear,
Wrought from forest, field, and mine;
Giant steamships o'er it fare,
Clouds of sails in sunlight shine.
Through the darkness, as in light,
Sail the constant fleets the same;
While along the shores at night
Furnace fires perpetual flame.
In the bright October days,While I float upon the stream,Mellowed by transfiguring haze,All is like a fairy dream:Groves and gardens, towns and towers,Mountain tops and vales between,As the gods had builded bowersScarce concealed and scarcely seen.
In the bright October days,
While I float upon the stream,
Mellowed by transfiguring haze,
All is like a fairy dream:
Groves and gardens, towns and towers,
Mountain tops and vales between,
As the gods had builded bowers
Scarce concealed and scarcely seen.
Thine no borrowed glories! thine,Matchless river! are thy own!O'er thy scenes no false lights shineFrom the ages dead and gone.Round no castles' crumbling wallsTroops of knightly spectres throng,And within no ruined hallsThrills the spectre maiden's song;
Thine no borrowed glories! thine,
Matchless river! are thy own!
O'er thy scenes no false lights shine
From the ages dead and gone.
Round no castles' crumbling walls
Troops of knightly spectres throng,
And within no ruined halls
Thrills the spectre maiden's song;
Save when dusky phantoms glide,Still intent on savage rites,Or when he of SunnysideMarshals his fantastic sprites:Then we seem again to hearWar-whoops echoing 'midst the hills,And old Hendrick's lusty cheerAs the wind his canvas fills.
Save when dusky phantoms glide,
Still intent on savage rites,
Or when he of Sunnyside
Marshals his fantastic sprites:
Then we seem again to hear
War-whoops echoing 'midst the hills,
And old Hendrick's lusty cheer
As the wind his canvas fills.
As Mohegan, ages old,Though for ever self-renewed,Through unbroken forests rolledAll thy floods in solitude:But as Hudson, now and ever,Distant lands repeat thy name,And the world, O glorious river!Stands the guardian of thy fame.
As Mohegan, ages old,
Though for ever self-renewed,
Through unbroken forests rolled
All thy floods in solitude:
But as Hudson, now and ever,
Distant lands repeat thy name,
And the world, O glorious river!
Stands the guardian of thy fame.
James Manning Winchell.
PUBLIC LIBRARIES IN THE UNITED STATES.
Manya mickle makes a muckle, says the proverb, and whoever looks into the operations of society on the great scale will find how true the saying is. A national debt, a national crop, the cattle feeding on the hills of a broad continent, the school-going children of a populous commonwealth, the number of its vagabonds and criminals at large or in jail, all need such an array of figures for their expression that the amounts really convey no impression to the mind. The number of books collected in public libraries does not reach such unwieldy proportions as these, but it is still very large. The information gathered by the Bureau of Education for the purpose of exhibiting the condition of American society at the end of the first century of our independence shows that the libraries which are classed as "public" number 3,682 in the United States, and contain 12,276,964 volumes and 1,500,000 pamphlets.
Of our private libraries little is known. In 1870 the census-takers reported 107,673 collections of this class, containing in all 25,571,503 volumes, but these numbers are known to be much below the truth. The acute and practical superintendent of the ninth census declared that this part of his work had no value, and even said that "the statistics of private libraries are not, from any proper point of view, among the desirable inquiries of the census." What a commentary upon the progress of society is contained in this opinion of the most accomplished statistician ever engaged in studying our social movements! It is but a short time since the owning of books was a mark of superior station in the world. What has produced the change?
We can perhaps learn the cause of it better by a comparison than by direct study of bibliographical history. In Voltaire's time thermometers were so great a rarity that the owner of one of them was considered to be a savant. Time and social progress have so completely altered this state of things that thermometers are now made in factories, are owned by all classes, and applied to the commonest uses. The thermometers hanging on our walls no longer indicate familiarity with science, but merely that a new tool has been added to household appliances. So in book-making. The art which once served chiefly to record discoveries in knowledge, conduct controversies in polemics, philosophy, and politics, and for other grave and important purposes now adds to these a multitude of common uses. A library may contain scores and even hundreds of volumes, and yet have nothing but those books which have served in the education and amusement of the children in an ordinary family. Or it may be the result of a chance aggregation of "railway literature," bought to relieve the tediousness of travel. Or it may consist, as is sometimes the case, of the small and precious collections in frontier log huts, of the gratuitous contributions of the patent medicine vender, the plough-maker, and the lightning-rod man, mingled with the dear-bought subscription books of the wandering peddler! Books are so common that the possession of them is no longer an indication of the intellectual tendency of their possessors.
With libraries open to the public the case is different. Their condition affords one standard by which the character and tastes of the people may be measured.
The United States are considered to be far behind foreign countries in their book collections. We have nothing to compare with Dresden, Berlin, and Paris, with their 500,000, 700,000, and 2,000,000 volumes. We do not reach the wealth of even such second-rate places as Wolfenbüttel, Breslau, and Göttingen, if their collections are correctly reported at 300,000, 340,000, and 400,000 volumes. And yet each year witnesses the purchase of more than 400,000 volumes for our public libraries, taken collectively, a number that is larger than any one collection in this country! The permanent fund of our libraries, so far as known, amounts to $6,105,581 and their annual income to $1,398,756. These figures do not, in fact, represent anything like the truth, for not half the libraries reported their permanent fund, or their yearly purchases, and only one-quarter reported their yearly income. About one-fifth of the whole number (769 exactly) report their expenditures for new books at $562,407, and in 742 libraries the use of books amounts to 8,879,869 volumes yearly. In these figures Sunday-school libraries, one of the most constantly used kinds, are not included. Looking at the magnitude of the numbers reported, and considering all that is omitted, we obtain an inkling of the immense exchange of books among the people from these public distribution points.
The existing public libraries, excluding all under 300 volumes, and all in Sunday-schools of whatever size, may be considered as belonging to six principal divisions. These, with the number of libraries and the volumes in each, are as follows:
The "miscellaneous" class contains the libraries of secret and benevolent societies, and some others difficult to arrange. On the whole it might be better to class them with the proprietary public libraries.
Educational libraries are the oldest in the country, and the most venerable of them is naturally that of the oldest educational institution, Harvard University, which dates from 1638. Before the end of that century three others had been started, and singularly enough, all at about the same time: King William school at Annapolis, 1697, King's Chapel Library at Boston, 1698, and Christ church at Philadelphia, 1698. Yale and William and Mary Colleges began their collections in 1700, and then proprietary libraries began their existence. The Proprietors' Library in Pomfret, Conn., was founded in 1737, Redwood, in Newport, 1747, and the Library Society, Charleston, S. C, 1748. Philadelphia was especially active at that early period, establishing no less than five, the Library Company in 1731, Carpenters', 1736, Four Monthly Meetings of Friends, 1742, Philosophical Society, 1743, and Loganian, 1745. Fifty-one of these enterprises were begun in the second half of the eighteenth century, but failure and consolidation brought the number of living libraries in 1800 down to forty-nine. In 1776 twenty-nine were in existence, and from that time the growth has been as follows:
This little table brings out very strikingly the distinctive peculiarity of libraries in this country. Their strength does not lie so much in the importance of individual collections as in the existence of a large number of young, active, and growing institutions which are unitedly advancing to a future that must evidently be tremendous. More than seventy per cent. of our existing libraries have been formed within the last twenty-five years, and contain about 2,500 volumes each. Of the older libraries those which were founded in the last quarter of last century have an average of about 8,000 volumes, those of the following quarter about 11,500 volumes, and those of the third quarter about 5,000 volumes each. It is plain that library work has been remarkably active since 1850. In fact it has been so active as to open a new profession to the educated classes of this country. A large number of highly trained men are engaged in library work, and the discussion of library science is carried on with energy. It is quite probable that a few more years will see the introduction of this study into American colleges, as a preparation for a promising branch of industry. But let us return to our classification, which covers some interesting points.
Educationallibraries are of three kinds:
District school libraries form a very modern part of the general system, having been first suggested by Governor Clinton of New York in 1827, and introduced by law in 1835. Since then twenty other States have adopted the plan, but some, like Massachusetts, have abandoned it for that of town libraries. The greatest difficulties it labors under are found in country districts, where the funds are applied to other purposes, and the books are recklessly lent out and lost, both evils being due to the fact that few persons can be found who are able and willing to keep the work in good order. In cities the success of these district libraries is much greater. They now report an aggregate of 1,270,497 books, but their statistics are very incomplete. College libraries are among the most important in the country, that of Harvard being the largest we have, after the Congressional library in Washington. As to asylum and reformatory libraries, it would be hard to find circumstances under which books could be more usefully collected than in those institutions, where in 1870 32,901 prisoners were confined, and 116,102 paupers housed habitually or at times. If we consider that only one-fifth of the criminals are in jail, and allow for the natural increase of criminals and paupers, it will be apparent that the population which may derive benefit from these libraries must now number at least 300,000 persons. To meet their wants there are 206 libraries, with 223,197 volumes. The Pennsylvania State Penitentiary has the largest collection, 9,000 volumes, besides 1,000 school books. The other end of the line is occupied by Florida, which maintains 40 volumes in its Penitentiary.
Some interesting information has been gathered concerning the literary taste of convicts. Story books, magazines, and light literature generally are the favorite choice, but history, biography, and travels are also well patronized. In the Massachusetts State prison Humboldt's "Cosmos" and other philosophical works are called for. In fact the value of prison libraries is vouched for by all authorities, and one says that no convicts, except those really idiotic, leave a prison where there is a library without having gained some advantage. The greatest defects in the system are the lack of books and of light to read them by at night. There are but forty prison libraries, with 61,095 volumes, and in American prisons the cells are not lighted. Lights are placed in the corridors so that only a small number of the inmates have light enough to read by. The Joliet (Ill.) prison is a cheering exception to this gloomy state of things. Each cell has its own catalogue, and lights are allowed up to nine o'clock. Public charities of several kinds have lately suffered from exposures that prevent charitably disposed persons from giving aid which they would otherwise gladly contribute. It may be useful to suggest that money sent to any prison for the benefit of its library could hardly fail to be helpful.
In reformatories, where the effort is to cultivate the moral faculties, the library is an essential part of the system. Forty-nine of them have collections containing 51,466 books. In these institutions we have an indication of what the library, and other moral forces like it, is worth as an educator. Mr. Sanborn thinks that the proportion "of worthy citizens trained up among the whole 24,000 in preventive and reformatory schools would be as high as seventy-five per cent."
Professionallibraries are—
Here we have two surprises. One is that lawyers, with their interminable "reports" falling from nearly every court in the country, and never becoming really obsolete (a peculiarity that hardly any other professional works enjoy), should have so few and such small libraries. The reason probably lies in the assiduity with which each lawyer collects the works needed in his line of practice. The other surprise is that a profession so old and active as that of medicine should be so poorly represented in books. The lawyers have an average of about 2,400 books in their libraries, and the largest collections in the list are that of the Law Institute in New York, 20,000 volumes; Harvard School, 15,000; Social Law Library, Boston, 13,000; and Law Association of San Francisco, 12,500. No other reaches 10,000 volumes, and in fact the above deductions leave the others with about 2,000 volumes each. The medical gentlemen are still worse off. There are in the Surgeon General's office 40,000 volumes; Philadelphia College of Physicians, 18,753; Pennsylvania College of Physicians, 12,500; and New York Hospital, 10,000; leaving an average of 1,300 volumes to each of the other institutions. In these figures we have an indication of the excellent work done by the Army Bureau at Washington. Its 40,000 bound volumes are supplemented by 40,000 pamphlets, making a collection which the profession greatly needed. The theologians seem to have attended as energetically to the collection as to the making of books. In the last division of this class belong the engineering, agricultural, mining, botanical, military, and naval schools and societies, and they appear to give considerable importance to their libraries. Though they are mostly young institutions, the average number of books is 3,800. In addition to the bound volumes mentioned above, the societies own 218,852 pamphlets and 2,169 manuscripts, the proportion of these two kinds of literary works being naturally large in scientific collections. The largest libraries are those of the Essex Institute, Salem, Mass., 30,655 volumes, and 105,408 pamphlets, and "many" MSS.; Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences, 30,000 volumes and 35,000 pamphlets; Wagner Free Institution of Science, Philadelphia, 15,000 volumes; Museum of Comparative Zoölogy (Harvard), 13,000; Illinois Industrial University, 10,000; School of Mines, New York, 7,000; Sheffield Scientific School, 5,000.
Historical societieshave been much more actively employed in collecting than the table we have given indicates. Since the adoption of the Constitution in 1789 no less than one hundred and sixty societies have been formed, and Dr. Homes of the New York State Library reports their collections to aggregate more than 482,000 volumes and 568,000 pamphlets. The number of MSS. is 88,771, besides 1,361 bound volumes of them. The largest accumulations are:
It is among these societies that we find the largest average of any class, excepting the Government. Historical libraries contain about 8,400 bound volumes, 7,000 pamphlets, and 1,000 MSS. to each collection. In spite of this the public collections are often surpassed in completeness in special branches by private ones. In this country a public institution can rarely compete successfully with an eager and determined private buyer.
Governmentlibraries include others than those for the use of officials, as the following list shows:
The official libraries are of several kinds, and as many of them are of prime importance, we may be permitted to specify them more minutely than those of any other class:
Many of these are scientific collections and the only large ones of their kind in the country. Their presence, in conjunction with the Smithsonian Institution, has made Washington one of the most active scientific centres in the country. Government publications are sometimes referred to as mere trash, but aside from the remarkably thorough and admirable reports which the several public surveys have produced within a few years, and aside from such notable publications as the reports of Wilkes, Perry, and Kane, the ordinary issues of the Government printing office are anything but undeserving documents. They are in most cases necessary, useful, and interesting to some one. As special reports, made to cover some field that is narrow, however necessary it may be, and limited to that range by the law which authorizes them, they cannot possibly often be publications of general interest. In fact it is their extremely special character that gives them value. We are sometimes told that a government may be obliged to publish its State papers as matter of record, but it is noticeable that these volumes of documentary history are less inquired for than almost any others. The surveying, engineering, geological, astronomical, and other scientific reports published by the Government are in much greater request, and bring the highest prices in old bookstores. The explanation is, of course, that the scientific reports are useful to a larger class than the others. They appeal to "bread-winners" in several important professions, to students of pure science the world over, and to the already large and increasing body of teachers. For the "Smithsonian Contributions" one hundred and fifty dollars, or more than first cost, is demanded, and the first volume brings twenty dollars, or two and a half times its original price. The Mining Industry volume of the Fortieth Parallel Report brought forty dollars in the shops (whenever it could be found) even while the Engineer Corps was still gingerly distributing its limited editiongratis. Many more examples could be adduced, but these are sufficient to show that the Government does bring out works that are sorely wanted. We wish its method of distribution were better. At present the workers in a profession have great difficulty in obtaining the most needed publications of Government, while Congressmen, who are politicians and nothing else, are flooded with books they cannot understand, and only sneer at. The distribution of professional reports through members of Congress, who are not professional men, has never produced anything but dissatisfaction. There is no part of the country where Government publications can be found. Even New York city cannot produce them. This is all wrong. The Government should maintain a collection of all its publications in at least four States. They could be established either in connection with existing libraries or with the army headquarters that are maintained permanently in such places as New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and New Orleans. Such documentary libraries would not be deserted, as some may suppose. The Patent Room of the Boston Public Library was visited last year by 1,765 persons, and a collection of the engineering, scientific, and official publications of the Government in New York would be a centre for professional study, and be visited by thousands yearly. To house the Government publications would require so much space that an ordinary library could hardly be expected to undertake the task without aid. The patent specifications alone of three countries, Great Britain, France, and the United States, with their increase for ten years to come, require an apartment at least thirty feet square.
Proprietarypublic libraries are the second of the six kinds in size, and would be the first if the "miscellaneous" were counted among them, as they probably should be. Under this head we have grouped all public collections the access to which is in any way limited, as by a yearly payment, by membership in a society, or otherwise. The large total in the table is made up of:
In this class we first reach the libraries that deal directly with the "people"; that is, adults of moderate means. These collections have been well styled the "colleges of the poor," and in them all persons who are industrious enough to be able to spare a dollar or two yearly may obtain useful knowledge or innocent amusement. Classes for study of languages, literature, and the arts, and lectures by prominent persons are frequently added to the library system, the whole forming one of the most potent of modern social forces. It seems quite natural that this democratic system of intellectual improvement should owe its origin to the people's philosopher, Poor Richard. Benjamin Franklin founded the first proprietary library in Philadelphia, in 1731, and his plan included not merely coöperation for the sake of pecuniary strength, but also discussion and mutual improvement.
Freepublic libraries are in character much like the last class, but are maintained usually by State or town grants, or by private gifts. It is probably in connection with these institutions that the dream of some enthusiasts for uniting art museums to the collections of books will be realized.
Only twelve States have a quarter of a million volumes in their public libraries, taken together. They are:
This order will, no doubt, rapidly and constantly change. It will be observed that in respect to number of libraries the succession is not the same as for the number of volumes. It can hardly be doubted that such States as Ohio, Illinois, California, and Missouri will advance up the line, while others that now do not possess a quarter of a million volumes, as Indiana, with 137 public libraries, Michigan, with 94, Iowa, with 80, Tennessee, with 74, and Kentucky, with 71, will soon be in the list. As a matter of State "rivalry," such summaries are valueless, even if any rivalry of the kind could be proved. But they do have some interest and value as social statistics.
More significant, perhaps, are the libraries of ten principal cities, in which one-quarter of all the books in the country within public reach are gathered:
In these ten cities, therefore, are collected 7.3 per cent. of the public libraries, 28 per cent. of the books, and 8.66 per cent. of the population in this country. If Washington had been included instead of Charleston, the concentration of books in cities would have been more strikingly marked.
A proper conception of American libraries cannot be obtained without assorting them according to size, which is done in the following table:
What is to be the future of American libraries? The most obvious discernible facts are that the popular energies are likely to be given to the support of free town libraries, and that the aggregate of book accumulations will be enormous, though no individual collection now presents the likelihood of rising to extreme proportions; the increase will come by the growth of the numerous small libraries. The mercantile institutions have done and are continuing a good work, but they have prepared the way for a step beyond. Free town libraries are quite in sympathy with American ideas, and will be supported. They are capable of being made good means of disseminating information. It is fortunate that in this country novels belong to the cheapest publications, most of the good ones appearing in fifty-cent and dollar editions. More solid works are also costlier, so that a popular library can with good reason give its energies to the collection of really good works, leaving the people to supply themselves with the cheaper novels.
Numerous as are the views which have been expressed upon the proper scope and quality of the library of the future, we propose to add one to the list of suggestions. It is that the next founder of a library should confine it entirely toperiodicals. It is through current literature that every kind of science and every tendency of thought now finds expression. The profoundest discussions in philosophy, discoveries in knowledge, keenest studies of life and character, are now made through the world's weekly and monthly publications. Books are often no more than summaries of what has been printed before in separate magazines. We have in fact heard of one gentleman who broke up the library he had spent years in collecting, and gave his attention to periodicals, because they were the original sources of knowledge in his profession. The libraries which we have styled "professional" are compelled to spend large sums on these issues, which were once styled "ephemeral," but are now found to be of lasting value.
Under these circumstances, why not have a library of this periodical literature? Just as some men refuse to read translations, learning a new language if a book they need is printed in a tongue unknown to them, so let us reject summaries and accumulate original materials. As to the cost of such a library, the five thousand important periodicals which are said to be published will require probably $30,000 a year for their purchase, and if as much more is added for rent, binding, salaries, etc., we have an income required which demands a capital of more than a million dollars, to say nothing of half a million for back numbers!
Some readers may be curious to know what chance there is of making a collection that shall be fairly representative of the world's literature. We can safely answer,none. Herr Hottinger, who has issued the prospectus of a universal catalogue of all books published, thinks there are about three million titles, and his critics say this estimate is too low. Twenty-five thousand new works are said to be added each year to this number. Now the largest number ofvolumes(and therefore a less number of titles) added to libraries in this country yearly, is: Boston Public Library, 18,000; Philadelphia Mercantile, 17,004; Congressional, 15,400; Chicago Public, 11,331; Cincinnati Public, 11,398; New York Mercantile, 8,000; and Harvard, 7,000. The numbers reported by the Mercantile and public libraries are of little value, since these institutions often buy a dozen or a score copies of a popular work. It is therefore evident that no library in this country is even attempting to keep up with the current issue of books.
It has been found impossible to estimate, with any degree of accuracy, the amount of money spent on new books by the libraries, as more than half of them fail to make any report on this point. Permanent funds, amounting to $6,105,581, are held by 358 libraries, and 1,364 have none; 1,960 make no report. The endowments are divided very unevenly among the classes, as this table shows:
This, however, does not show what is spent yearly in buying books, an item which only one in about twenty-three of the libraries report. The amount is $562,407, and at $1.25 per volume, which is Mr. Winsor's estimate of the average cost of books, the yearly acquisitions by purchase are limited to about 450,000 volumes.
Figures such as we have presented are really no guide to the worth of an individual library, or of a library system, to the people. That can be learned only by the comparison of experiences by the men who have charge of the books and their distribution, but the elements for such an analysis are wanting. The yearly use of books in 742 libraries in 1875 was 8,879,869 volumes, or from two to two and a half times the number of volumes on the shelves of the reporting libraries. Great differences exist in this respect. Few libraries are so eagerly sought as the military post library on Angel Island, California, which distributed its 772 books so often that its yearly circulation was 4,500! The Chicago Public Library, with 48,100 volumes, circulated 403,356; Boston Athenæum, with 105,000 volumes, circulated 33,000; Boston Public Library, with 299,869 volumes, circulated 758,493.
These statistics are sufficient. It is probable that the libraries of the country, costing say $16,000,000 for books, and spending more than $1,400,000 yearly, afford to the people the use of from twenty-four to thirty million volumes every year. It cannot be doubted that they form a very important factor in our social and national economy.
More than a thousand librarians are engaged in the conduct of the public libraries, many of them men of great ability and culture. There can be no doubt that their study of this important problem will result in the establishing of an intelligent and harmonious system of supplying a nation with the reading matter it requires.
John A. Church.