”THE TWO BOOKS
Ella M. Ware
EXCEPT for the titles, you could hardly have told them apart; for they were both about the same size, both in the same brown regulation covering, both rather shabby and worn. There they stood all day, a little apart from the rest, on a shelf in the public library, waiting for some chance borrower to take them out.
A young art student sauntered in, glanced at several volumes, selected the one he wanted, and then, catching sight of the two books, took the nearest one down. He turned the pages casually; then stopped, as a sentence caught his eye. He read it—frowned —then read it again, and his face grew sad and bitter.
‘A cynical philosophy, that,’ he said. ‘And yet, after all, perhaps the pessimist is right. Existence is a poor affair at the best. And here was a man who realized the game wasn’t worth the candle.’
He closed the book with a sigh, put it back in place and turned away. But all through the day the memory of that sentence stayed with him, haunted him, tingeing his thoughts, spoiling his appetite, souring all his pleasures. Even the sunlight seemed to have grown gray. Through everything he did, everything he saw, there seemed to echo the dull, disheartening query —’What’s the use?’
The next afternoon a tired-looking middle-aged professor, passing the shelf in search of some book of reference, noticed the two books and mechanically took the further one down. He glanced over the first few pages—then, coming to a certain line that seemed to take his fancy, he smiled and re-read it with a look of pleased surprise. The tired, set lines in his face relaxed, his eyes lost their sternness and grew soft and kindly, as though some train of thought had been aroused which led him into a new and wonderful land.
‘What a beautiful idea! How delightfully put!’ he said to himself. ‘Why, it positively makes me feel young again. It seems somehow to give one new inspiration, fresh courage to face things, a bigger sympathy for everybody and everything. Strange how a handful of words by a dead author can stir one’s heart into life and make the world seem so wonderful, so worth while!’
And as he went out with the book under his arm his stooping shoulders straightened themselves with a new youthfulness, a new determination. He hummed a little tune as he walked home through the rain.”
Reference Data:
Forum, Vol. 50, 1913, pages 863-4
Pessiments have attempted to conquer and destroy the world. Optomists have endeavored to save the world. Both have failed in many ways. Only God’s works have stood the test of time against both. An interesting article Vicki.