Proportioned to the authority of trustees, however, is their responsibility. To whom much is given, of them much is required. And the position of the better sort of trustee valuable to the best work of the librarian, is not that sinecure seat sometimes depicted. He must constantly stand as the able and ready advisor of the librarian, and for the honor and defence of the library. He will be made the court of ultimate appeal in many matters, both practical and curious. He will receive letters from all sorts of people, some with gifts in their hands, and some with complaints on their lips; some seeking favors, possible and impossible. Col. Higginson's humorous way, recently, of introducing Phillips Brooks as the man whom nobody in the Cambridge library could find out the height of, until at last the inquiry was brought to him as trustee to answer, may illustrate the point. Lately an article in one of the English reviews treats of the "Perils of Trustees." And while no statute makes us responsible,--as innocent parties were held to be under British law, in the failure of the Glasgow Bank,--yet the library trustee carries risks, both moral and financial, and the place should be offered to none who will not give it a _bonafide_ service. There is no room for a mere figure-head or ornamental name on a working library board. Every member of a directory, rightly organized, should take his share in the administration, and have some knowledge of what goes on in the library world. It is true there have been instances where some ambitious and irrepressible spirit has exceeded his official duties and privileges; has been disposed to dictate the whole policy of the library, reducing the librarian's office to that of a mere secretary. I knew a director in a large library who resigned because he could not buy the books and write all the reports. He hungered for more to do. But I have known more than one to keep himself as far away from the board as possible, after one or two sessions of three or four hours each, in the necessary deliberations of the book committee. Edward Everett Hale says that the great essential for the directors or trustees of any institution is, that they "keep their end in sight," as Dr. Watt's hymn reads. If it is an institution to help old women, or save poor children, or find situations for the idle, does it really do it? Or is it so taken up with the mechanism of the concern, so absorbed and happy over methods and details, that it loses sight of the object? This is especially to be considered in the management of a public library. What is the library for? Is it accomplishing its work? Is it doing its utmost to promote the virtue, refinement, and intelligence of the community?