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What is termed close classification, it will be found, fails by attempting too much. One of the chief obstacles to its general use is that it involves a too complicated notation. The many letters and figures that indicate position on the shelves are difficult to remember in the direct ratio of their number. The more minute the classification the more signs of location are required. When they become very numerous, in any system of classification, the system breaks down by its own weight. Library attendants consume an undue amount of time in learning it, and library cataloguers and classifiers in affixing the requisite signs of designation to the labels, the shelves, and the catalogues. Memory, too, is unduly taxed to apply the system. While a superior memory may be found equal to any task imposed upon it, average memories are not so fortunate. The expert librarian, in whose accomplished head the whole world of science and literature lies coordinated, so that he can apply his classification unerringly to all the books in a vast library, must not presume that unskilled assistants can do the same. One of the mistakes made by the positivists in classification is the claim that their favorite system can be applied to all libraries alike. That this is a fallacy may be seen in an example or two. Take the case of a large and comprehensive Botanical library, in which an exact scientific distribution of the books may and should be made. It is classified not only in the grand divisions, such as scientific and economic botany, etc., but a close analytical treatment is extended over the whole vegetable kingdom. Books treating of every plant are relegated to their appropriate classes, genera, and species, until the whole library is organized on a strictly scientific basis. But in the case, even of what are called large libraries, so minute a classification would be not only unnecessary, but even obstructive to prompt service of the books. And the average town library, containing only a shelf or two of botanical works, clearly has no use for such a classification. The attempt to impose a universal law upon library arrangement, while the conditions of the collections are endlessly varied, is foredoomed to failure. The object of classification is to bring order out of confusion, and to arrange the great mass of books in science and literature of which every library is composed, so that those on related subjects should be as nearly as possible brought together. Let us suppose a collection of some hundred thousand volumes, in all branches of human knowledge, thrown together without any classification or catalogue, on the tables, the shelves, and the floor of an extensive reading-room. Suppose also an assemblage of scholars and other readers, ready and anxious to avail themselves of these literary treasures, this immense library without a key. Each wants some certain book, by some author whose name he knows, or upon some subject upon which he seeks to inform himself. But how vain and hopeless the effort to go through all this chaos of learning, to find the one volume which he needs! This illustration points the prime necessity of classification of some kind, before a collection of books can be used in an available way. Then comes in the skilled bibliographer, to convert this chaos into a cosmos, to illumine this darkness with the light of science. He distributes the whole mass, volume by volume, into a few great distinct classes; he creates families or sub-divisions in every class; he assembles together in groups all that treat of the same subject, or any of its branches; and thus the entire scattered multitude of volumes is at length coordinated into a clear and systematic collection, ready for use in every department. A great library is like a great army: when unorganized, your army is a mere undisciplined mob: but divide and sub-divide it into army corps, divisions, brigades, regiments, and companies and you can put your finger upon every man. To make this complete organization of a library successful, one must have an organizing mind, a wide acquaintance with literature, history, and the outlines, at least, of all the sciences; a knowledge of the ancient and of various modern languages; a quick intuition, a ripe judgment, a cultivated taste, a retentive memory, and a patience and perseverance that are inexhaustible. Even were all these qualities possessed, there will be in the arrangement elements of discord and of a failure. A multitude of uncertain points in classification and many exceptions will arise; and these must of necessity be settled arbitrarily. The more conversant one becomes with systems of classification, when reduced to practice, the more he becomes assured that a perfect bibliographical system is impossible. Every system of classification must find its application fraught with doubts, complications, and difficulties; but the wise bibliographer will not pause in his work to resolve all these insoluble problems; he will classify the book in hand according to his best judgment at the moment it comes before him. He can no more afford to spend time over intricate questions of the preponderance of this, that, or the other subject in a book, than a man about to walk to a certain place can afford to debate whether he shall put his right foot forward or his left. The one thing needful is to go forward.

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