ignominious failure. He makes himself, in fact, very ridiculous in every
instance and thousands of readers laugh at him and his absurd books. They
inwardly resolve, doubtless, that they will be practical and will pay no
attention to books. Are they right? Is the information contained in books
always useless and absurd, while that obtained by experience or by talking
to one's neighbor is always correct and valuable?

Many of our foremost educators are displeased with the book. They are
throwing it aside for the lecture, for laboratory work, for personal
research and experiment. Does this mean that the book, as a tool of the
teacher, will have to go?

What it all certainly does mean is that we ought to pause a minute and
think about the book, about what it does and what it can not do. This
means that we ought to consider a little the whole subject of written as
distinguished from spoken language. Why should we have two languages--as
we practically do--one to be interpreted by the ear and the other by the
eye? Could we or should we abandon either? What are the advantages and
what the limitations of each? We are so accustomed to looking upon the
printed page, to reading newspapers, books, and advertisements, to sending
and receiving letters, written or typewritten, that we are apt to forget
that all this is not part of the natural order, except in the sense that
all inventions and creations of the human brain are natural. Written
language is a conscious invention of man; spoken language is a
development, shaped by his needs and controlled by his sense of what is
fitting, but not at the outset consciously devised.

We are apt to think of written language as simply a means of representing
spoken language to the eye; but it is more than this; originally, at least
in many cases, it was not this at all. The written signs represented not