Mr. Dana, in his pamphlet on booklists, makes a statement, from the experience of his own library, but which must have found an echo in many a heart, to the effect that the monthly list did not supply any definite demand and was very little used. Exactly! So might a monthly list of additions to the city directory be very little used; so does the periodical revision of the telephone directory supply a definite demand only to those who are looking for something--and the average citizen is spending very little of his time looking for books. They must be shown to him, and then he must be shown why it will be to his advantage, pleasurable or profitable, to make their closer acquaintance. Open shelf rooms, or, wanting these, display racks and tables are in themselves a mighty stride forward in shortening the distance between the reader and the books. But do they always go the whole distance? Is it enough to turn a man loose in a roomful of books, all beckoning to him and standing in rows expectant to be chosen, like children in a game? They cannot speak, the attendants, gracious and hospitable and expert though they be, cannot speak to everyone. They often have enough to do to give attention to those that have the courage to speak to them. But placards could speak. Small groups of books, taken out of their tactical formation on the shelves and brought together because of some bond of common interest not always convertible in terms of the decimal classification, could become eloquent. And eloquent, indeed, and welcome to the dazed explorer of unfamiliar precincts, would be a bulletin, many of them, plenty of them--for a belief in signs of the right sort is a mark of wisdom--which would tell him in an authoritative, confident, and confidential way what he wishes to know, namely, something about the books, or only about a few of them, that surround him. We do these things, sometimes, on rare occasions, on special days, by means of special bulletins. But it is mostly in the children's room. In fact we take great pains that the children should receive the benefit of our expert judgment and ministrations. But to their elders, to most of whom we might well apply a reverent adaptation of the words of the precept, beginning: "Except ye become as a little child ...," to their elders we pay the subtle and misdirected compliment of assuming that they know as much as we do about what is, after all, our chief business, the selection and proper employment and enjoyment of books.