Confessions of a Book-Lover by E. Walter Walters

I come to my subject in a sleepy mood. It seems a daring confession to make. But you will allow that only when one's mind is bent on thoughts of sleep can one hope to speak fittingly of bedside books. 'Tis a subject calling for gentle, quiet thoughts. And what better state of mind? You remember Robert Louis Stevenson's prayer, ‘Give us the quiet mind. ' How often has a similar prayer been offered! Too often are we disturbed in thought -- harassed, perplexed, worried. Let us now turn our attention to books that soothe and lull to rest. Here they stand, ready to hand. But name them I dare not, save in my own heart. For your taste in this matter may be totally different from mine. I dare only say at this point -- for here surely I may speak with confidence -- that no bedside shelf is complete without a copy of Stevenson's prayers. With gratitude I confess that of the many volumes which have comforted me during dark hours not one is so dear, so close to my heart, as the little volume bearing the golden letters R. L. S.

‘Be with our friends, be with ourselves. Go with each of us to rest. If any awake, temper to them the dark hours of watching; and when the day returns, return to us our sun and comforter, and call us up with morning faces and with morning hearts -- eager to labour: eager to be happy, if happiness be our portion; and if the day be marked for sorrow, strong to endure it. ' Certainly the prayers of R. L. S. should have a place on every bedside shelf. That you are familiar with the foregoing prayer, I cannot doubt. ‘Many are the golden passages the lover of good books has by heart. ' It may be that you have upon your own particular bedside shelf many ‘devotional authors' with whose every word you are familiar -- books, small and great, which are as jewels in your shelf. And no doubt you have upon the same shelf many every-day and every-hour books, acting, as it were, as a setting to your gems. For certainly the bedside shelf, if it is to be complete, must contain books to suit all moods. One cannot be certain in what mood the night watches will find one. The over-excited brain, for instance, needs its own particular medicine, and sometimes two, three, or more drugs are required, according to the state and nature of the patient. In the majority of cases it is futile to attempt a cure with a book less lively than the patient's own brain. His abnormal condition must be righted by degrees. One book, or drug, must follow another, till his mind has been restored to a normal state. Then may he resort to his accustomed ‘rest books,' and so fall asleep.