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The Library Association of Ireland issued last month the first number of An Leabharlann, their new official journal. The title, for those of us who do not speak the language of Erin, means The Library. It is an extremely interesting venture which will be followed by librarians on the mainland with sympathetic curiosity. In particular our readers would be interested in the first of a series of articles by Father Stephen J. Brown, S.J., on Book Selection. The worthy Father lectures on this subject at University College, Dublin, in the Library School. It is mainly concerned with what should not be selected, and deals in vigorous fashion with the menace of much of current published stuff. No doubt Father Brown will follow with something more constructive. Mr. T. E. Gay, Chairman of the Association, discusses the need for a survey of Irish libraries and their resources. We agree that it is necessary. The Net Books Agreement, the Council, Notes from the Provinces, and an article in Erse—which we honestly believe that most of our Irish friends can read—and an excellent broadcast talk on the Library and the Student by Miss Christina Keogh, the accomplished Librarian of the Irish Central Library, make up a quite attractive first number. A list of broadcast talks given by members of the Association is included.

Faced with the annual torrent of library reports, one longs for more shooting and less mumbling, and perhaps at the end of the season, one agrees with Macbeth. Stanley Snaith has written that “the theory and technique of annual reports is a subject which has been rather neglected in our professional literature” and that “no substantial contribution to the subject has appeared in this country.” The most recent American writings on the subject are Robert D. Franklin's articles in Library Review.

IT WAS DIFFICULT to believe the tidings that have only just reached me, the news that Stanley Snaith died in Dorset on December 19 last, a few days after his 73rd birthday. The rising generation of librarians may say ‘Who was Stanley Snaith?’, so all the more reason for this tribute.

CHAUCER HOUSE was opened with due ceremony on May 25th. But not by Mr. Stanley Baldwin; the decision of the Prime Minister the day before that he liked Lossiemouth more than London made Mr. Baldwin's presence at the House of Commons essential. He attended the luncheon at University College, where, we are told, he smoked his famous pipe and made a brief and delightful speech to a company limited to the officers, council and some distinguished guests, including Mrs. Carnegie herself, representatives of the Carnegie United Trust in Lord Elgin, Miss Haldane and Sir Donald MacAlister, as well as Lord Balniel (who, however, is an officer, being Chairman of the Council) and our fine old friend Lawrence Inkster; but lack of space confined the lunch and Mr. Baldwin to that distinguished but very small assembly.

THE Children's Department proved to be a neat and cosy little room, somewhat sparingly furnished with books (“Overstocking was the bane of the old children's libraries,” said my companion) but with pictures (“Kindly donated by the L.N.E.R.”), cardboard models, and flowers much in evidence. In the centre of the room a tall sallow individual in a baggy suit, which might have been designed by Omar the Tentmaker, was wearing himself to the bone to amuse the young. A rabbit and the historic ruins of a top‐hat appeared to be the leading motifs of this entertainment. The former disappeared and reappeared four or five times while I watched, and I reflected that its views on serialism would have been of great value to Professor Dunne. I asked the meaning of this phenomenon.

When my young librarian friend Bob Browning (“The name is the merest coincidence,” he would say apologetically) decided to run a season of library lectures, he little knew what a rod he was preparing for his own back. I could have warned him; but I should be loath to shake with the rough winds of my cynicism the darling buds of May. So I kept my lips sealed and contented myself with a watching brief. I ran into him when he was in the very toils of inspiration. He said: “I have written to several of my East London colleagues asking their advice on lectures in libraries.”—“And what do they say?”—“They seem a bit cagey.”—“I shouldn't wonder.”—“They won't commit themselves.” — “Why should they?”—“You don't approve of lectures, do you?” said Bob at a tangent. “Well—I wouldn't go so far as to—”—“Do you?”—“I think they should all be put on the Dishonours List.”— “Oh,” said Bob rather aloofly. “Anyway, I'm going ahead.”—“Do,” I replied with simulated cordiality.

THIS is the time of the year when, with the strong opening of the Spring publishing season, librarians take a review of matters which definitely concern books. There is a cant saying amongst certain eager librarians that their colleagues are too concerned with technical matters and too little, if at all, concerned with books. There may have been isolated cases of this kind, but it is merely untrue to say that the average librarian is not concerned, deeply and continuously, with the literary activity of his day. It is well that men should live in their own time and be thoroughly interested in the work of new writers. There is danger that exclusive occupation with them may lead to an unbalanced view of the book world. If one judged from the criticisms that occasionally appear in our contemporaries, one would suppose that the only books that mattered were the authentic fiction of the day, and by authentic is meant the books which go beyond average contemporary thought and conventions. Librarianship, however, is concerned with all books of all subjects and of all time. This note is merely a prelude to a number of THE LIBRARY WORLD which deals mainly with literature and with reading. Here we return again to the perennial fiction question.

THE assistant said, “Step this way, please.” A lift bore us with soundless urgency into the upper regions and decanted us into a corridor, and a moment later I was ushered into the Librarian's office.

PUBLIC librarians have had some experience of economy in this last month at the considering of annual estimates. In many towns, unfortunately, an increase in the general rates is reported, and in all such times libraries are likely to suffer. The note we make below on Yarmouth does not show that one of the causes of the curious municipal hysteria it reveals was the burning desire to reduce the rates. That desire is in itself wholly laudable, and librarians can acquiesce in economies that do not discriminate against libraries. Our trouble is that libraries have nowhere yet been adequately financed, and reductions are more serious for them than for many departments which have never suffered from utter lack of means.

THE news that our royal President has been promoted to the command of a frigate sugges an increase rather than a relieving of naval duties. Our pleasure in the announcement is qualified by the fear that the further demands may make his presence with the Library Association in September even more difficult than it seemed to be a month ago. This is pure speculation on our part, but we are aware of the eagerness with which librarians look forward to the central event of the Centenary Year. We are assured that the matter is in good hands and at the right levels.