those on chemistry, zoölogists those on animal life, but Frenchmen write articles on French topics, Americans on the United States, Russians on Russia, Roman Catholics on Catholicism, Methodists on the Methodist Church, etc. Probably no other work has ever gathered together as contributors such a body of experts as those who have been engaged in writing this edition of the Britannica. The method of course has its objections. In controverted questions what one wants is the opinion of a disinterested but infallible editor, not of an erudite but prejudiced advocate. But the advantages of the method outweigh its defects. At any rate, the change was inevitable. The day of the omniscient editor has passed. The field has become too vast. The editor nowadays can only be a specialist in editing, and has to depend on others for knowledge. Among other advantages of the new system, the editors have been enabled-largely through the great advance in mechanical facilities -to produce their encyclopædia as a whole before sending it to press, thus unifying it to a degree impossible in the old days of piecemeal construction.

We have already intimated our conclusion that the new edition has made a notable improvement in convenience of format and in the subdivision and rearrangement of articles. Does it compare favorably with its predecessors in the weight and authority of its writers and in the informative character of their articles? To answer this question one must premise that this edition of the Britannica is a legitimate heir, the lawful offspring of previous editions, not a child without parents. While it has been advertised as "an entirely new work," something must be allowed to the enthusiasm of the promoters. In some respects it is entirely new. In others it is not. It would indeed have been a pity if the ninth and tenth editions, with their great writers and famous articles, had been cast entirely aside. And as a matter of fact this has not been done. An examination shows that a considerable number of the articles of the old editions have been reprinted almost verbatim-though not without careful revision where necessary. This only proves that good work in history, biography, and criticism can and should stand.

The

Such articles as those on Bismarck, Carlyle, Ruskin, Browning, Abelard, Savonarola, Spencer, etc., needed only the slightest revision-though we may note in passing that the extravagant eulogy of Victor Hugo by Swinburne reprinted from the tenth edition might well have received more than slight revision. But even if the new edition were merely a complete reprint of the ninth and tenth editions, the convenience of having their articles under one alphabetization would almost have justified the expense. "Supplemental volumes to an alphabetically arranged work are a vexation to the spirit of the user. But a vast quantity of new material has been added both by the editors and by contributors. The inclusion of biographies of living celebrities, begun in the tenth, has been amplified in the eleventh edition. The great advances in geographical knowledge have had full recognition. Scientific and mechanical progress, while perhaps not so revolutionary as in the previous decade, have received comprehensive treatment. occasional insular attitude of the older editions has been tempered by the assignment of many topics to foreign scholarsand this not merely on extra-English topics, but in general. The article on 'Christianity," for instance, is by Professor Knox, of Union Theological Seminary, that on Mining" by Professor H. S. Monroe and other Americans, that on "Astronomy" by the late Professor Simon Newcomb, that on "Russia" by Prince Kropotkin among others, that on "Servia" by Chedomille Mijatovich, that on "Tuscany" by Luigi Villari, that on the "Polar Regions" by Captain Nansen (in this, by the way, full justice is done to Commander Peary). Articles which formerly gave undue emphasis to the English point of view (as, for instance, that on "Architecture," with its illustrations) have been reconstructed-though we note that the article "Sculpture" still asserts that the Wellington monument in St. Paul's Cathedral is "probably the finest plastic work of modern times." American subjects have received far greater attention than ever before, and some omissions (as, for instance, particulars concerning the somewhat noted Battle of New Orleans and biographies of Commodores (). H. and M.

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C. Perry) have been rectified. If articles of the character of those on "Evolution" by Huxley and Sully, "Bible" by Robertson. "Bible" by Robertson Smith, "Israel" by Wellhausen, in the older editions, are missing in the new one, it is either because some of these masters have passed away without leaving at present recognizable successors, or because the results of their investigations were epoch-making and our time is still part of the epoch they made. The vast array of names, however, of well-known authorities who have contributed to the eleventh edition is convincing as to the accuracy and comprehensiveness, generally, of the articles they contribute, and though the list cannot be given here even in the most abridged form, it inspires confidence in the highest degree.

While the first edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica, published in 1771, was styled a " Dictionary," it has been left for the eleventh edition to include strictly dictionary features. Previous editions have described things, not words. The new edition has made a beginning toward being a word-book. The words defined-about 2,500 in number-are mainly drawn from the Encyclopædia's topics, and they thus serve further to elucidate the articles. While the provinces of the cyclopædia and

the dictionary are logically distinct, the public does not care for logic in its use of reference books, but only for convenience; and this edition of the Britannica reflects the tendency of the public to welcome the coalescence of the dictionary and the encyclopædia. The next edition, we may predict, will perhaps still further meet this demand, so that we shall have a complete word-book and encyclopædia combined, something that shall attempt to do for English readers what the great achievement of Larousse in the "Grand Dictionnaire Universel " accomplished for French readers. If this were done, and we could turn to the Britannica for any word in the language as well as for any fact, and for the pronunciation also (this feature is not at present included), we should indeed have the world of knowledge at our fingers' ends. But even in its present form the Encyclopædia Britannica is to be regarded as, on the whole, a great undertaking splendidly carried out. The labor and cost involved in its production were immense, but thoroughly worth while. It will for years to come be, in America and England, the one indispensable book of reference where there is only one such work, and the most consulted where there are all such works.

E

VERYTHING can be found in New York." Thus runs the com monplace, and it is probably true. But it is also undoubtedly true that what one would have that one must seek. A recent experience of the Spectator's seems to corroborate both these well-known statements. Not that he has sought quite everything, but that the object of his search has been unusual.

He has an unusual friend-that's how it all began. A friend who makes unexpected comments and manifests unexpected needs, deeper and more significant than those of the ordinary person. He was wandering with her one day in the Metropolitan Museum, when they came to a simultaneous pause before a colossal Buddha. The pause was the friend's doing; the Spectator merely fell in with it, and regarded the statue with a vague eye, while his fancy continued the pleasant game he had been playing in the last gallery of pictures-the seemingly universal game of choosing which picture one would take home to live with if one could. He had just about made up his wavering mind in favor of Corot's serene and unassertive bit of country road, when his friend recalled him to present circumstance by fetching a satisfied sigh and remarking, "I'd rather live with this Buddha than with any picture we've seen."

getting some books of Eastern wisdom and steeping himself in the nonchalance of Nirvana. For he presently found he had need of all the imperturbability he could summon in this none too easy cause. Perhaps he did not go to work the right way. A good many ivory and bronze images looked out at him from the windows of Fifth Avenue as he strolled down that thoroughfare; but they none of them seemed to represent the idea which his friend had had in mind. Some of them were too big, and all of them were too striking. She did not want an objet d'art, a conspicuous image on which the eye of a visitor would instantly light and which would then have to be introduced and explained. "Really, my dear? What a quaint notion!" No, no; none of that! A quiet, obscure little Buddha, to crouch in a corner of her writing-desk and pass for a paperweight-that was the idea.

So in a very obscure manner the Spectator entered a certain Oriental bazaar and

inquired modestly of a saleswoman, “Have you any Buddhas?"

The saleswoman fixed him with an eye of indignant bewilderment.

"What did you say?" she inquired at length, after a very embarrassing pauseembarrassing to the Spectator.

But the latter had really drunk deep of that Eastern unconcern mentioned above; moreover, he has long since taken his stand on the daring but tenable assumption that, such as it is, his soul is his own, even when challenged by that most terrifying product of our modern civilization, the American saleswoman. Therefore he gently but firmly repeated, "Have you any Buddhas?"

The saleswoman sought counsel. She was not really a cruel young woman at heart; and the Oriental bazaar has its standard of courtesy. The Spectator heard her confer with a comrade. "Have we any "—she hesitated, and then she imitated the Spectator's mysterious utterance as bravely and accurately as she could-" have we any boodies?"

"Little figures, you know." The Spectator came forward, trying to help her out. "A Chinese god-sitting down usuallysometimes with a lotus flower."

The second saleswoman nodded, not very confidently; and went off, and returned with a Billikin.

"That it?" she suggested, succinctly,

placing the grinning figure on the shelf. beside the Spectator.

"Well, no, not exactly."

The Spectator was as carefully mild in his regret as he could manage; but the saleswoman was disappointed in him.

"It's a little figure, and it's sitting down," she commented.

It is a mistake to define one's desires. One lays one's self open to a just charge of ingratitude and inconsistency when one refuses to accept the literal embodiment of one's own description. But the Spectator was spared the difficult issue of self-defense by the approach of the other saleswoman with a round squatting image which she deposited by the Billikin and proceeded to hit on the head.

"Can't upset it, you see," she recommended, as the singular object buoyantly righted itself after each assault.

"Like Buddha in that respect, certainly," the Spectator admitted, "and yet-no, I am very sorry, but this is not just what I had in mind."

He left the bazaar in a certain disgrace. People who come out in search of little figures sitting down should know their own minds and abide by obvious fulfillments.

The Spectator hardly knew where to turn next. He stood in the street, pondering a moment. Then he remembered that he had heard that a certain department store went in for the Oriental to a large extent, and he hopefully set his feet in that direction.

Have you any Buddhas?"

Thus he advanced his original question, when he stood in the dim, draped, muffled, fragrant section, surcharged with "atmosphere," reeking of the East. It was no longer an innocent question-mirth and malice lurked in it-but it was still assured.

"Boodles?" The poor young man with a fez (Irish-Italian-American, the Spectator decided) looked about wildly. "I really don't know. What-what are they, anyway?"

Ah, how much more candid the masculine mind is than the feminine !

"Little figures-a Chinese god-sitting down."

The Spectator was fond of this description now. It was accurate, and it was certainly fruitful in charming results. He regarded the young man gravely and expectantly.

"Don't you think you'd be likely to find them in the china department? They

have lots of little figures in there, in all attitudes."

A Dresden shepherdess seemed to be what the poor fellow had in mind. At least that was what the Spectator was next called on to consider. Sitting down on a bank of flowers. Not lotus flowers? Well, was he sure? All flowers look much alike when done into china; one must not expect too much of the art. Not a god? Well, nowadays, secular figures really are more popular. If he would try the ecclesiastical departBut the Spectator escaped.

ment

Ah, Buddha in New York! Of course the search was a difficult one. The only wonder was that the Spectator felt so sure he would find the calm soul lurking somewhere in the confusion, the hurry and tumult of the brisk, businesslike city. He has not space to relate his adventures in full, but he can assure the reader that he spent a diverting afternoon experimenting with one question on a variety of bewildered people. Then, at the last, he had his reward.

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He knew that the quest was over the minute he opened the little door in a quiet side street. Buddha spoke to him from the shadows of the waiting-room. Nobody else spoke-be sure of that. The slim dark person with slanting eyes who slid forward betrayed no active interest in the Spectator's arrival. Only a faint chime of bells overhead commented dreamily on the situation.

Will you be so kind as to let me see what images of Buddha you have in your collection?"

It was a very different form of the familiar question, but the Spectator knew that there was no further need of his old tactics. His errand was understood. The slim person disappeared, returned, and put into the Spectator's hand the very image of Buddha that he had hoped to find. About six inches high, seated at ease-oh, at infinite ease!— in a lotus flower, gazing downward with veiled eyes in a face which, featureless and expressionless, yet conveyed a profound impression of repose and security. How still, how dispassionate! The Spectator felt the fatigue and excitement of the afternoon ebb from him as he received his treasure from the indifferent fingers of its disciple. "Ver' old," was the only comment the latter made.

The Spectator's friend liked the birthday present he gave her this year.