THAT British historians will have to be careful and have a care is indicated by the following judgment pronounced by the youngest member of the literary staff of the imposing “New York Herald Tribune.” The subject of review was “A Short History of the British Working Classes,” by a British authority, Mr. G. D. H. Cole, and the reviewer's comment on the book is as follows: “… a serviceable book; perhaps we may say indispensable, until such time as an American social historian addresses himself to the fascinating, though arduous, task of working over the immense mass of material now available for the purpose of furnishing the American student with an authoritative summary of an enthralling subject.” Well, we have learned lately that the definitive work on the Great War is now being projected by an associate professor of a university in the American backwoods, so we are preparing to pull up our socks.

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Readers may remember that library education, and the syllabus on which the Library Association's scheme is based, was the subject of symposia and of articles in this magazine about ten years ago, when the syllabus was under revision. At that time heavy attack on the syllabus was made by some of the most constructive librarians of the younger school; but unfortunately very little resulted from their criticisms, and I have no hope that under present circumstances, any revision of the syllabus may be expected. It will be gathered from what has already been published, that the feeling is general that the acquirement of book knowledge should play a considerable part in the education of the librarian, and that generally the scope of the librarian's training should be broadened. Notwithstanding warning, some of my correspondents in the controversy have written letters at great length, and I regret having had to cut mercilessly.

Madame, it is no modish thing, The bookman's tribute that I bring; A talk of antiquaries grey, Dust unto dust this many a day, Gossip of texts and bindings old, Of faded type, and tarnish'd gold! Can ladies care for this to-do With Payne, Derome, and Padeloup? Can they resign the rout, the ball, For lonely joys of shelf and stall? The critic thus, serenely wise; But you can read with other eyes, Whose books and bindings treasured are 'Midst mingled spoils of peace and war; Shields from the fights the Mahdi lost, And trinkets from the Golden Coast, And many things divinely done By Chippendale and Sheraton, And trophies of Egyptian deeds, And fans, and plates, and Aggrey beads, Pomander boxes, assegais, And sword-hilts worn in Marlbro's days. In this pell-mell of old and new, Of war and peace, my essays, too, For long in serials tempest-tost, Are landed now, and are not lost: Nay, on your shelf secure they lie, As in the amber sleeps the fly. 'Tis true, they are not "rich nor rare;" Enough, for me, that they are-there! A. L printed out of the Low Countries; for example, in books published in Paris. A brief sketch of the history of the Elzevirs may here be useful. The founder of the family, a Flemish bookbinder, Louis, left Louvain and settled in Leyden in 1580. He bought a house opposite the University, and opened a bookshop. Another shop, on college ground, was opened in 1587. Louis was a good bookseller, a very ordinary publisher. It was not till shortly before his death, in 1617, that his grandson Isaac bought a set of types and other material. Louis left six sons. Two of these, Matthew and Bonaventure, kept on the business, dating ex officina Elzeviriana. In 1625 Bonaventure and Abraham (son of Matthew) became partners. The "good dates" of Elzevirian books begin from 1626. The two Elzevirs chose excellent types, and after nine years' endeavours turned out the beautiful 'Caesar' of 1635. Their classical series in petit format was opened with 'Horace' and 'Ovid' in 1629. In 1641 they began their elegant piracies of French plays and poetry with 'Le Cid.' It was worth while being pirated by the Elzevirs, who turned you out like a gentleman, with fleurons and red letters, and a pretty frontispiece. The modern pirate dresses you in rags, prints you murderously, and binds you, if he binds you at all, in some hideous example of "cloth extra," all gilt, like archaic gingerbread. Bonaventure and Abraham both died in 1652. They did not depart before publishing (1628), in grand format, a desirable work on fencing, Thibault's 'Academie de l'Espee.' This Tibbald also killed by the book. John and Daniel Elzevir came next. They brought out the 'Imitation' (Thomae a Kempis canonici regularis ord. S. Augustini De Imitatione Christi, libri iv.); I wish by taking thought I could add eight millimetres to the stature of my copy. In 1655 Daniel joined a cousin, Louis, in Amsterdam, and John stayed in Leyden. John died in 1661; his widow struggled on, but her son Abraham (1681) let all fall into ruins. Abraham died 1712. The Elzevirs ...

It seems to be the fate of fine social conceptions to be controlled sooner or later by officials whose sense of their importance is in inverse ratio to their ability to exploit the conceptions with enthusiasm and in happy constructive manner. We have seen that to occur in all sorts of organisations founded by people who deeply felt and clearly willed. Something of this kind would appear to have happened or to be happening to the British Broadcasting Corporation, which, since the war, has become as close a corporation as the most narrow‐minded body of bureaucrats might desire.