Each, then, is under the same necessity of securing the attention of the public, and ultimately for the same end: that of ensuring the prosperity and consistent growth of his enterprise. We know how the merchant advertises. Now, how does the librarian advertise? By means of catalogs, bulletins, reading lists, occasionally by space in the newspapers, when that can be had free. Very good means, these,--for advertising the library; for implanting the library habit. But very poor and weak means, indeed, for advertising the books or instilling the reading habit. Books are not advertised in library publications, except incidentally, for you cannot advertise a book merely by mentioning its name, or copying its title page. In his spacious and optimistic way the librarian, when speaking ex cathedra, in library publications, vests himself, without intending to, in a sort of cloak of infallibility as unbecoming as it is unnatural, saying: "Behold, I bring you the books of the month; they are good books or they would not be here. That is enough for you to know. I have spoken!" And yet he has at his command twice over the chief essential ingredient of all good advertising, namely, confidence. Confidence in the righteousness of his mission and confidence in the merit and integrity of his book selection, and in the conscientious methods employed in making it. Why does he not try to do a little of that which the merchant spends millions in trying to do--transmit that confidence to his patron? Why, when his business is book selection, and he knows he prosecutes it faithfully, is he so afraid of being caught at it?