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That ice‐creams prepared with dirty materials and under dirty conditions will themselves be dirty is a proposition which, to the merely ordinary mind, appears to be sufficiently obvious without the institution of a series of elaborate and highly “scientific” experiments to attempt to prove it. But, to the mind of the bacteriological medicine‐man, it is by microbic culture alone that anything that is dirty can be scientifically proved to be so. Not long ago, it having been observed that the itinerant vendor of ice‐creams was in the habit of rinsing his glasses, and, some say, of washing himself—although this is doubtful—in a pail of water attached to his barrow, samples of the liquor contained by such pails were duly obtained, and were solemnly submitted to a well‐known bacteriologist for bacteriological examination. After the interval necessary for the carrying out of the bacterial rites required, the eminent expert's report was published, and it may be admitted that after a cautious study of the same the conclusion seems justifiable that the pail waters were dirty, although it may well be doubted that an allegation to this effect, based on the report, would have stood the test of cross‐examination. It is true that our old and valued friend the Bacillus coli communis was reported as present, but his reputation as an awful example and as a producer of evil has been so much damaged that no one but a dangerous bacteriologist would think of hanging a dog—or even an ice‐cream vendor—on the evidence afforded by his presence. A further illustration of bacteriological trop de zèle is afforded by the recent prosecutions of some vendors of ice‐cream, whose commodities were reported to contain “millions of microbes,” including, of course, the in‐evitable and ubiquitous Bacillus coli very “communis.” To institute a prosecution under the Sale of Food and Drugs Act upon the evidence yielded by a bacteriological examination of ice‐cream is a proceeding which is foredoomed, and rightly foredoomed, to failure. The only conceivable ground upon which such a prosecution could be undertaken is the allegation that the “millions of microbes ” make the ice‐cream injurious to health. Inas‐much as not one of these millions can be proved beyond the possibility of doubt to be injurious, in the present state of knowledge; and as millions of microbes exist in everything everywhere, the breakdown of such a case must be a foregone conclusion. Moreover, a glance at the Act will show that, under existing circumstances at any rate, samples cannot be submitted to public analysts for bacteriological examination—with which, in fact, the Act has nothing to do—even if such examinations yielded results upon which it would be possible to found action. In order to prevent the sale of foul and unwholesome or actual disease‐creating ice‐cream, the proper course is to control the premises where such articles are prepared; while, at the same time, the sale of such materials should also be checked by the methods employed under the Public Health Act in dealing with decomposed and polluted articles of food. In this, no doubt, the aid of the public analyst may sometimes be sought as one of the scientific advisers of the authority taking action, but not officially in his capacity as public analyst under the Adulteration Act. And in those cases in which such advice is sought it may be hoped that it will be based, as indeed it can be based, upon something more practical, tangible and certain than the nebulous results of a bacteriological test.

The Annual General Meeting of the Pure Food and Health Society of Great Britain was held at 20, Hanover Square, W., on February 27, the President, Sir PHILIP SASSOON, Bart, M.P., in the chair. The Secretary, Mr. A. E. MOORE, read the following report of the Executive Committee:—

The foundation collection of the printed books now forming the Library of the British Museum was that of Sir Hans Sloane. This comprised about 40,000 volumes. To it was added in 1759 the Royal collection, begun in the time of Henry VII and inherited by George II from his predecessors on the throne.

In 1899 the medical practitioners of Dublin were confronted with an outbreak of a peculiar and obscure illness, characterised by symptoms which were very unusual. For want of a better explanation, the disorder, which seemed to be epidemic, was explained by the simple expedient of finding a name for it. It was labelled as “beri‐beri,” a tropical disease with very much the same clinical and pathological features as those observed at Dublin. Papers were read before certain societies, and then as the cases gradually diminished in number, the subject lost interest and was dropped.

At a recent inquest upon the body of a woman who was alleged to have died as the result of taking certain drugs for an improper purpose, one of the witnesses described himself as “an analyst and manufacturing chemist,” but when asked by the coroner what qualifications he had, he replied : “I have no qualifications whatever. What I know I learned from my father, who was a well‐known ‘F.C.S.’” Comment on the “F.C.S.” is needless.

A point repeatedly brought forward for the defence, or at all events for the purpose of mitigating the fine, in adulteration cases, is the statement that defendant's goods have been analysed on former occasions and have been found genuine. As illustrating the slight value of analyses of previous samples may be taken the average laudatory analyses on patent or proprietary foods, drinks, or medicine. The manufacturer calculates—and calculates rightly—that the general public will believe that the published analysis of a particular specimen which had been submitted to the analytical expert by the manufacturer himself, guarantees all the samples on the market to be equally pure. History has repeatedly proved that in 99 cases out of 100 the goods found on the market fall below the quality indicated by the published analyses. Not long ago a case bearing on this matter was tried in court, where samples of cocoa supplied by the wholesale firm were distributed; but, when the retailer tried to sell the bulk of the consignment, he had repeated complaints from his customers that the samples were a very much better article than what he was then supplying. He summoned the wholesale dealer and won his case. But what guarantee have the general public of the quality of any manufacturer's goods—unless the Control System as instituted in Great Britain is accepted and applied ? Inasmuch as any manufacturer who joins the firms under the British Analytical Control thereby undertakes to keep all his samples up to the requisite standard; as his goods thenceforth bear the Control stamp; and as any purchaser can at any time submit a sample bought on the open market to the analytical experts of the British Analytical Control, free of any charge, to ascertain if the sample is up to the published and requisite standard, it is plain that a condition of things is created which not only protects the public from being cheated, but also acts most beneficially for these firms which are not afraid to supply a genuine article. The public are much more willing to buy an absolutely guaranteed article, of which each sample must be kept up to the previous high quality, rather than one which was good while it was being introduced, but as soon as it became well known fell off in quality and continued to live on its reputation alone.

In a recent speech LORD ROSEBERY charged the people of this country with possessing, to an inordinate extent, the fatal gift of complacency, and he observed that the nation which is not progressive is retrogressive. “Rest and be thankful,” said LORD ROSEBERY, is a motto which spells decay, and those who have any experience of the methods of the manufacturers of the country will admit that this seemingly severe impeachment is by no means unfounded or uncalled‐for. Industries, of which at one time the English were masters, are now gradually falling into other hands. The workers of other lands are successfully competing with our own, and yet, in spite of this condition of our mercantile affairs, the spirit of complacency is rampant. The sons are content to continue in the footsteps of the fathers, oblivious of the fact that time and seasons do not stand still and that they may be overwhelmed by the advancing flood of competition. The trade conservatism which was in the past opposed to the introduction of the steam‐engine, the power‐loom, and other mechanical appliances, is still responsible for the extreme slowness with which English firms appreciate the necessity for such innovations in the conduct of their business as would place them in a position to hold their own in the markets of the world. In respect to the protection of pure food production Great Britain and the British manufacturers are still a long way behind. Although the Sale of Food and Drugs Act of 1875 was one of the first Acts passed in any country to prevent the sale of adulterated food and drink, its machinery is cumbrous, and the subsequent Amendment Acts have not added materially to its efficiency; with the result that the Adulteration Acts do not compare favourably with those of many other countries. The spirit of complacency in regard to food products has affected alike the producer and the distributor, and the result is that in many instances there is no adequate inducement to produce anything but a mediocre article—such an article, in fact, as only escapes condemnation because of the faulty construction of the machinery of the law.

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.

Cambridge, Harvard, Oxford: the names of these universities instantly conjure up images of the highest attainments of higher education. Of course, great universities also operate great university presses. So any reference book with the name of Oxford, Cambridge, or Harvard in the title possesses immediate credibility and saleability. But it was not always so. Prior to the latter half of the nineteenth century the Oxford and the Cambridge University Presses were known to the public primarily as publishers of the Bible. Oxford broke into reference publishing, and along with it widespread public recognition, by means of its famous dictionaries, of which the pinnacle was the massive Oxford English Dictionary. The Cambridge University Press [hereafter referred to as CUP] took a different approach to publishing scholarly reference works by producing authoritative and encyclopedic histories. According to S.C. Roberts, a long‐time secretary to the Syndics of the CUP, “apart from the Bible, the first book that made the Press well known to the general public was the Cambridge Modern History.”

The necessity of standards of purity for certain kinds of agricultural produce being now recognised by the new Adulteration Act—4, (1)—no apology is needed for attempting to bring the application of the principle into actual practice. Some few standards have already been generally adopted, and the legalization of limits relating to many of those substances with which the Adulteration Acts deal would undoubtedly be welcomed.