Evening star., 1932-07-13

A booklover should reserve q few
cases for his outgrown books, for one
outgrows books just the same as shoes
at certain age.
The difference between the mind and
the feet is that the latter fortunately
stop growing, and the former happily
never stops growing a little.
Even If some at times refuse to con-
cede the continued growth Of the minds
Of other persons, the person most con-
cerned can see plain evidences OF the
same.
One Of these, little recognized, is the
fact that certain books which once
aroused real enthusiasm in his mind
and heart now stand simply as SO
many mute symbols of his progress.
1t is for these honored volumes that
the real friend Of books will reserve
case or two, in which they may be
treasured, not for what they are, but
rather for what they were.
They fitted his mind then.
AS far as he is concerned. they shall
be honored forever because OF that
eternal fitness.
He is at no time ashamed Of his
own minds progress. He is like the
independent In politics, who votes one
way one election, and another way the
next, without feeling that he has at
any time repudiated past conduct by
present.
This wholesome conduct means moth
ing more than that he looks upon prog
ress not as straight line, but as ar
intricate pattern, always in the work
ing out, and perhaps never to be ended
This is the reason for immortality
the necessity for it, since one life and
one world are not enough for the
brave progress of the human mind.
1t demands more, and should get
more.
A few years may be enough for dull
ing sense and an aching flesh. but they
will never do for this keen instrument
which uses past, present and futurs
like toys, playthings for moment In
the ages.
Monuments of ancient Egypt have
left their marks on the sands of time
no more than these old books along the
pathway of life.
What are the sands of Egypt. after
all. in comparison with the pathway OF
a life?
A book may be, and often has been,
quite as monumental as the greatest
obelisk of hewn stones.
In a bookcase or two each individual
may keep as goodly a company of
monuments as the sands of the Sahara
ever knew.
Here will be a few childhood books,
beyond which the traveller has swept
forever
Occasionally he may pick them up,
and attempt to revive the consuming
interest with which he read them years
ago.
The memory is vivid enough, but the
attempt is unavailing.
The boy left the book q long time
ago, and there Is no way to get him
back.
The old familiar words-how well he
recalls them, their very places on the
pages! There is a dog-eared sheet
which other hands put there long ago.
he remembers the acute stab Of pain
which rent his finicky soul at the sight.
These are among the quiet joys of
book lovers. not the fy-by-days who
merely think they read books either
for profit or pleasure.
The real boy or girl reader does not
see book as a book so much as an
adventure. going forth in quest Of
strange places and new gods.
At that age few youngsters realize, it
Is true. how completely they are In
thrall to questing.
Ask one of them, he will probably
say that he has book, and is reading
book
Look into his eyes, however. as he
comes reluctantly to dinner, and you
will see that he has been abroad some
where where there is no possibility of
you going.
The best you can do, in all likelihood,
Is to share his secret with him.
The shining level of the years takes