But given an ideal selection of books, or as near it as we can get and still have enough books to go around, is just the reading of them--that is, the passing of the eye over the types, gaining a momentary impression--the most desirable thing to be got out of them? Are there not here and there children who are reading to the lasting detriment of their memories and powers of observation and reflection, stuffing themselves with type, as it were? Nearly every observant librarian knows of such cases. Are there not days when the shining of the sun, the briskness of the air, the greenness of the turf and of the trees, should have their invitation seconded by the librarian, and the child be persuaded AWAY from the library instead of TO it? We are supposed to contribute with our books toward the sound mind, but we should be none the less advocates of the sound body--and the child who reads all day indoors when he ought to be out in the fresh air among his kind, should have our especial watching. But, granted the suitable book and the suitable time for reading, what do we know of the effect our books are having? We count our circulation just the same whether a book is kept two days--about long enough for the family to look at the pictures-- or a week. Whether it has been really read we do not know. Sometimes I think those pencilled notes on the margin, recording the child's disgust or satisfaction, should have more meaning for us than they do. At least, they prove that the book has taken hold of the reader's imagination and sympathies. Don't let us be too severe with a criticism written in the honest feeling of the moment (if it be in pencil); we are really gathering psychological and sociological data for which the child-study clubs would thank us, perhaps. I see only one way in which we can be enabled to estimate fairly the value of what we are doing, and that is by so gaining the good-will and confidence of the children as to get them to answer our questions as to their reading or to tell us of their own accord what they get from it. From this information we may make our inferences as to the value of our books in themselves, and may be enabled to regulate their use. A child whose exclusive diet is fairy-tales is evidently over-cultivating the imagination; a girl who has outgrown children's books and dipped into the premature love-stories that are written for her class needs our most careful guidance; a boy whose whole thought is of adventure, or who cannot read anything but jokes, is also in a critical condition. In short, the judicious regulation of the children's reading should be made practicable for the librarian, if the children's library is to be the important agency in education which it may be made.