He reserved that bit of information for the
rector of Trinity when he came in, an hour later.
"Oh! did he?" laughingly said Doctor Brooks. "That is nice advice for a
man to give a boy. I am surprised at Wendell Phillips. He needs a little
talk: a ministerial visit. And have you followed his shameless advice?"
smilingly asked the huge man as he towered above the boy. "No? And to
think of the opportunity you had, too. Well, I am glad you had such
respect for my dumb friends. For they are my friends, each one of them,"
he continued, as he looked fondly at the filled shelves. "Yes, I know
them all, and love each for its own sake. Take this little volume," and
he picked up a little volume of Shakespeare. "Why, we are the best of
friends: we have travelled miles together--all over the world, as a
matter of fact. It knows me in all my moods, and responds to each, no
matter how irritable I am. Yes, it is pretty badly marked up now, for a
fact, isn't it? Black; I never thought of that before that it doesn't
make a book look any better to the eye. But it means more to me because
of all that pencilling.
"Now, some folks dislike my use of my books in this way. They love their
books so much that they think it nothing short of sacrilege to mark up a
book. But to me that's like having a child so prettily dressed that you
can't romp and play with it. What is the good of a book, I say, if it is
too pretty for use? I like to have my books speak to me, and then I like
to talk back to them.
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