Gifts

On the Gift of a Book to a Child
 
Child! do not throw this book about!   
   Refrain from the unholy pleasure   
Of cutting all the pictures out!
   Preserve it as your chiefest treasure.
 
Child, have you never heard it said   
   That you are heir to all the ages?
Why, then, your hands were never made
   To tear these beautiful thick pages!
 
Your little hands were made to take
   The better things and leave the worse ones:   
They also may be used to shake
   The Massive Paws of Elder Persons.
 
And when your prayers complete the day,   
   Darling, your little tiny hands
Were also made, I think, to pray   
   For men that lose their fairylands.
 
Hilaire Belloc

(Alexander, 8, chooses his own books. He loaned three illustrated titles to me: a group of short stories by Washington Irving; Walls, a book of poetry; and Exploring the Elements, a Complete Guide to the Periodic Table.)

When asked by a heckler during a campaign speech if he was a papist, Belloc (1870-1953) withdrew a rosary from his pocket and responded, “Gentlemen, I am a Catholic. As far as possible, I go to Mass every day. This is a rosary. As far as possible, I kneel down and tell these beads every day. If you reject me on account of my religion, I shall thank God that He has spared me the indignity of being your representative.”