We deem the question of banishment a serious one. Unruly boys are often just the ones that need the influence of the library most in counteracting the ofttimes baneful influence of a sordid home life. It is a good thing, morally, to get hold of such boys at an early age and to win their interest in and attendance at the library rather than at places of low resort. To withhold a boy's card may also be considered a doubtful punishment-- driving the young omnivorous reader to the patronage of the "underground travelling library" with its secret stations and patrons. Before suspension or expulsion is resorted to, the librarian should clearly distinguish between thoughtless exuberance of spirits and downright maliciousness. "If we only had a boys' room," plaintively writes one sympathetic librarian, "where we could get them together without disturbing their elders and could thus let them bubble over with their 'animal spirits' without infringing on other people, I believe we could win them for good." A number of librarians, however, report no difficulty in dealing with the young folks. Some state that the children easily fall into the general spirit of the place and are quiet and studious. "We just expect them to be gentlemen," says one, "and they rarely fail to rise to the demand." In such places will generally be found floors that conduce to stillness, rubber-tipped chairs, and low-voiced assistants. "Our tiled floors are noisy--not our children," confesses one librarian. The use of noiseless matting along aisles most travelled will be found helpful. But one library mentions the use of warning signs as being of assistance, this being a placard from the Roycroft Shop reading, "Be gentle and keep the voice low." In a library once visited were found no less than eighteen signs of admonition against dogs, hats, smoking, whispering, handling of books, etc., etc.--the natural result being that, in their multiplicity, no one paid any attention to any of them. If a sign is deemed absolutely necessary, it should be removed after general attention his been called to it. The best managed libraries nowadays are those wherein warnings are conspicuous for their absence. Next to the officious human "dragon" that guards its portals, there is probably no one feature in all the great libraries of a western metropolis that causes so much caustic comment and rebellious criticism as that of an immense placard in its main reading room bearing in gigantic letters the command, SILENCE--this perpetual affront being found in a great reference library frequented only by scholarly patrons. Such a placard is as much out of place there as it would be in a school for deafmutes.