In the last‐issued volume of his monumental History of the Novel, Dr. E. A. Baker remarks that librarians do not expect to be thanked for their services and then, characteristically, proceeds to thank some dozen or so. Whatever our expectations are, we are none the less appreciative when a writer does express his debt; it helps us, it justifies our work. Few tributes of late have been more graceful than this paid by Mr. J. D. Griffith Davies in his useful and attractive Honest George Monk, which has lately come from Mr. John Lane: “What I should do without the kindly help of my friend, R. J. Gordon, Librarian of the Leeds Public Libraries, I really don't know. Like some fairy godmother he produces for my use the rarest books; and his keen personal interest in all forms of research, and the unfailing courtesy of his colleagues, makes the Reference Library at Leeds one of the homeliest places for work.” It is worth while to compare the expression here with the words Mr. Berwick Sayers has written at the end of his preface to the 1937 edition of Brown's Manual.
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