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HOW old is old? If it were not that there were, at least for practical purposes, no English farming books before the age of printing, that question would intrigue me vastly— because I should not know how to begin writing this essay. Fortunately, however, any scruples I may have are removed by a matter of fact. The first English farming book was published in the third decade of the 16th century. It was Fitzherbert's Boke of Husbandry, issued in 1523.

FAR BE IT FROM ME to lay any claim to originality. All I can hope to do is to say in my own words what has often enough been said before. Can anyone do more? It is common form to admit that in the fairy tale time of long ago knowledge was shared throughout the known world. It was not hedged in by security and electric fencing. The common market of ideas was not even affected by the continuous wars. It flourished despite the soldiers.

IT WOULD BE an impertinence to Constable for anyone not specifically devoted to art to criticize his paintings. Anyhow this has recently been done with a good deal of réclame. His taste in reading is quite another matter, and even an historian may venture to discuss it.

THE Reference Department of Paisley Central Library today occupies the room which was the original Public Library built in 1870 and opened to the public in April 1871. Since that date two extensions to the building have taken place. The first, in 1882, provided a separate room for both Reference and Lending libraries; the second, opened in 1938, provided a new Children's Department. Together with the original cost of the building, these extensions were entirely financed by Sir Peter Coats, James Coats of Auchendrane and Daniel Coats respectively. The people of Paisley indeed owe much to this one family, whose generosity was great. They not only provided the capital required but continued to donate many useful and often extremely valuable works of reference over the many years that followed. In 1975 Paisley Library was incorporated in the new Renfrew District library service.

With this number the Library Review enters on its ninth year, and we send greetings to readers at home and abroad. Though the magazine was started just about the time when the depression struck the world, its success was immediate, and we are glad to say that its circulation has increased steadily every year. This is an eminently satisfactory claim to be able to make considering the times through which we have passed.

The only opinion in this world that appeals to anyone is his own. Jethro Tull, who is perhaps one of the best known personalities in the history of English farming, did not scruple to express his contempt for books, especially books about agriculture. When his seed‐drill and horse‐hoes had become famous he was pressed to write a book about them so that other people might benefit from his ingenuity. He opposed the suggestion with all the force at his command; eventually the pressure of his social obligations proved too much for him. He was not only unwilling to write, but he stated what may have been the habit of the small squire of his own class and the general run of yeoman and tenant farmers of his time. “I was,” he wrote, “so far from being inclined to the scribbling disease, that I had disused writing for above twenty years.” This admission may be taken as an indication that most farmers of Tull's day would avoid writing if they could, and indeed the smaller farmer of today often gets his wife to write his letters for him.

This exhibition was primarily intended to show something of the variety of bibliographies and abstracting journals in the English language. It was not intended to be comprehensive; and although an effort was made to include the most authorative works in each field, in some cases the works shown could claim to be little more than representative.

‘WITH HIS hundred up, CB lifted his cap for a moment and turned again quickly to get on with his task.’ Do any of you, Dear Readers, remember C B Fry's 144 against the Australians at the Oval in 1905? It does not matter really because it is Clive Bingley's 100 for NLW which is my concern here. To score a hundred runs at cricket is success indeed, but to buy a professional periodical in declining economic conditions and still to breathe more life into it again is quite phenomenal. And that is no criticism of previous editors, Roy McColvin and Ken Harrison, without whom LW would probably have collapsed altogether!

FOR many years the LIBRARY REVIEW has provided a service of Irish news in the form of letters sent by Irish librarians. The correspondence has proved interesting, not only to our Irish colleagues themselves, but also to librarians in Britain and overseas. It served to supplement the news published in the official Irish magazine, An Leabharlann, in virtue of the fact that it usually covered the library field in the North as well as in the South. The letters have mainly been amiable, but in our Autumn number our correspondent made the following statement: “In your Summer number I read your notice of As I Was Going Down Sackville Street by Dr. Gogarty. This book has been well read in Ireland, but an injunction has been taken out against it, greatly to the regret of most people of liberal mind, but much to the satisfaction of the perfervid Gaels who, as followers of Mr. De Valera, are leading the nation up the garden path to a waste land in which we will croon our ancient songs and hymns of hate in bad Gaelic. There are those of my friends—few enough in number I may say—in favour of Irish language studies, but the majority of average Irishmen are simply being driven into the movement. In their heart of hearts they loathe the Gallicization of the country, but they remember a period when to criticise would possibly have meant a stab in the back, tarring and feathering, or some other sadistic pubishment …” It is not necessary to quote the remainder of the letter, and those particularly interested may read it for themselves in the number in which it appeared. Naturally enough, some of our Irish colleagues do not see eye to eye with our correspondent, and have protested to us, and, in terms of our general policy, we are pleased to publish their protests, along with the detached observations of two other colleagues.

I HAVE been asked by the Editor to give my reminiscences of the modern library movement in India. H. H. The Maharaja Gaekwar of Baroda, the pioneer of that movement, was responsible for arousing my interest in the subject. In an interview which I had with him in London in 1910, learning that I was keenly interested in education, and had for twenty‐five years been in the service of eminent English publishing houses, he informed me that free and compulsory education had been in existence in Baroda for some years, and that he had recently engaged an American library expert to inaugurate in his dominions a system of public libraries. Three years later the Maharaja asked me to join his Library Department, and I arrived in Baroda in December, 1913. Mr. W. A. Borden, the American librarian, had returned home, and Mr. J. S. Kudalkar, his designated successor, had been sent to study library conditions and services abroad.