Of course a methodical person would keep a list of books lent, with the borrower’s name in line. But, alas! what generous soul is methodical—the ready tendency to lend a book is proof that a man is ready for all risks. Nor will a well-kept list make our borrowers honest. If a man steal your book, you _may_ recover it if you prove the theft; but what is to be done with him who always—yes, always—is _intending_ to return your precious volume? Your inquiries are met with ready promises of restoration; he will bring it back, but his wife is reading it, or he can not just lay his hand upon it, or some one has borrowed it without leave, and it will be sure to come back, and then you shall have it all right. All which things are tests of patience and good humor.
Mrs. Stowe tells of an orderly Christian man who, recognizing the Scriptural injunction to “do good and lend,” was dismayed by the frequent application for loans of tools from his less thrifty neighbors. Gravely reflecting on the subject, he finally reconciled order and liberality by buying a complete duplicate set of tools, which he kept for the purpose of lending, and when any of these were lent he quietly told the next applicant that the ax or hoe was already out.
This plan is not possible with books. But, logically considered, is it not a singular fact that a man who will hasten to clear himself of monetary debt, if it be but a shilling, will deprive, shall we not say practically rob, his friend of an umbrella worth perhaps a guinea, or a book, which no money can replace, if it happen to have associations for the owner or be out of print? And this, too, in a fashion peculiarly treacherous, since he knows the object of loan would never be lent except on tacit promise of return. The old adage, so familiar to our childhood,
“’Tis a sin to steal a pin, Much more to take a greater thing,”
notwithstanding its defective orthodoxy and rhyme, still requires enforcement on our languid and ill-trained consciences. Possibly the causes of this lax morality in minor matters lie deeper than any merely playful suggestion can reach.
A wise man once stated plainly what we scarcely like to hint, in these words: “The _wicked_ borroweth and payeth not again.” And yet we fear things will go on much as before, in spite of this paper, and men and women will continue to miss their umbrellas at the very time they need them, and sigh in vain over an unreturned book, through a generous disposition “to do good and lend.”—_London Sunday Magazine._