Evening star., 1933-02-09
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

Is kept fiat, the volumes on each side
preventing the distressing bowling to
which even the best-bound books are
subject.
The powers of absorption of dry air
are marvellous; against them a stout
binding often is helpless
Sometimes the way the papers are
pasted on the inner sides of covers
tend to yank them backward. When
this is combined with the drying effect
of the atmosphere, the total result is
very badly bowed book, constituting
defect to the finicky.
Here Is another instance In life
wherein one might be charged by 9TH
ers as being lot Of trouble to them
selves" Is not the person who fails
to mind bowed backs, crumpled pages,
dog g-eared covers, much the happier
reader?
Not If he Is fnicky about his books,
Life is a matter Of temperament,
after all.
Life consists In what man is think
ing Of all day." said Emerson.
Since he probably is thinking more
or less of what he is doing all day, a
better definition of life, one may think,
is that 1t consists of what one Is doing
and thinking, with the accent on the
''and."
No doubt the thinking end of this
grand dual combination is the great
est, as the wise Emerson indicated,
since he failed to mention the neces-
sary action. As was his wont, he took
that for granted, left it out of account.
paying his reader the compliment of
being able to do bit Of thinking for
himself, without pointing out every sin
gle element. This Is what often makes
Emerson difficult reading. He leaves
out so much, which one must put in
between words, between sentences. and
that Is not easy with such a close
thinker
The thinking side of life is where
the temperament comes in, for ones
likes and dislikes are largely mental
based sol1dly enough, IN great many
cases, on physical grounds. Just
where the physical ends and the men
tai begins no man is wise enough to
know: Some sages have held that they
are the same.
II you will take a small power mag
nfy1ng glass, and put it over a sheet
OF typewriter paper, focusing care
fully on letter, you will see that what
appeared SO neat Of outline to the So
called naked eye, in reality is blurred.
The paper that to the eye seemed so
smooth is a sort of net, Composed of
fbers and miniature pinholes. Specks
OF ink, invisible without the glass, are
flung between all the letters.
Perhaps there is some similar fusion
between mind and matter, between
things physical and mental. between
body and spirit, which, unfortunately,
no sort of magnifying glass will show
us. Perhaps it Is not necessary that
we should see; maybe 1t Is better If we
accept, just as we do the apparently
fawless job of the typewriter on the
seeming glass-smooth sheet of paper.
The booklover who is finicky is SIM
ply one who has paused to peer, for a
time, at his books. To him they are
better books If they are as fiawless as
possible. He Is one with the master
spirit Of the ages, which, as far as man
can determine, Is determined to do as
perfect q job as possible.
This spirit works in mysterious ways,
as the Psalmist said. Old books, re-
posing on shelves, are kindly covered
with protecting layer of dust to help
preserve what Is underneath.
To this protection Is added the aroma
sweet in the nostrils Of the lover of
books, the fragrance of old shelves. in
old stores, in out-of- f-the-way places. as
a sort Of extra measure possible only
with universal power.