larger field of a textbook, he is forced to become, in part, a compiler and must be judged, to some extent, as a compiler. It was a distinguished historian out of his field who, in the first edition of a well-known textbook in American history, transposed the political platforms of the Davis and Douglas democrats of 1860. It was another distinguished historian out of his field who, in another well-known textbook in American history, confused the Reconstruction Act of 1867 with quite a different measure. Fortunately for the teacher, textbooks by experts are usually reviewed by experts, and palpable errors are likely to be pointed out. But there should be some independent tests by the teacher.

An author's point of view is sometimes set forth clearly in his preface or introduction and sometimes left to be inferred from the kinds of facts selected, from the manner in which they are interpreted, and the distribution of emphasis. Books produced in different countries differ widely in point of view. A national bias is often boldly proclaimed. Indeed, comparisons between textbooks of different countries yield at times almost startling illustrations of the subjectivity of history. There is apparently one Europe for the Austrian textbook, one for the Prussian, one for the French, and one for the American, each with its own peculiar hues. Taking the United States alone, we get per

ceptibly different pictures of certain conditions and events in passing from a book by a New Englander to a book by a Pennsylvanian and then on to a book by a Virginian. A teacher should at least notice differences in point of view as expressed in the general proportions of a book. Is it an ancient history? How much space is devoted to the Peloponnesian War? to the postAlexandrian period? to social conditions? to art questions? Does the author enlarge on the period of the Roman Republic or on the period of the Empire? Pages alone, of course, do not necessarily indicate the relative importance attached to topics. From a recent study of the fame of Euripides as compared with the fame of Sophocles, it appears that Euripides gets the greater space in the histories, but Sophocles gets the adjectives and is therefore judged the more famous. A textbook writer may show his emphasis by his adjectives. Pages are none the less a rough test. A teacher desiring to enlarge on the nineteenth century will scarcely select a textbook on mediaval and modern European history which devotes five-sixths of its space to the period before the French Revolution. A teacher who thinks the thousand years before the nineteenth century important will scarcely select a textbook half of which is devoted to the nineteenth century. Of two books equal in other respects teachers will, in view of present

emphasis, naturally give preference to the book which offers the more adequate treatment of industrial and social conditions.

Pictures, maps, and other visual aids suggest their own special questions. What is the principle of selection? Is there a definite relation between the text and the illustrations? Are the latter clear and well printed? Does the author indicate the sources of his maps and pictures? Are the maps accurate? Do the pictures represent realities or fanciful conceptions of reality? Purely imaginative illustration is still common in elementary books and is not wholly absent from high school books. Maps are still often bad. Some of them contain too much detail, some of them are not clear, some of them are quite inaccurate. It would be a decided gain if all authors could be prevailed upon to indicate the sources of their pictures and maps. This would in itself be likely to invite more careful selection and greater attention to details. In the absence of such information it is often difficult for a teacher to estimate the historical value of the illustrative materials in a book.

American textbooks, almost without exception, now contain references for collateral reading. The teacher will naturally examine their general character and arrangement. Are the references general or specific? Do they indicate titles only or chapters and pages?

Are they classified? Is the pupil made conscious of the kind of material to which he is referred? Are there references to other textbooks? to historical novels and poems? Are the works mentioned likely to be in an average library? A textbook is not always the safe guide to collateral reading that it ought to be. Often the only test applied seems to be that of relevance to the subject under discussion.

The average table of contents contains merely titles of chapters. Some authors, however, include a complete analysis of the book. Some indexes are perfunctory, indefinite, and incomplete. Others are full and specific. To teachers who make no use of either tables of contents or indexes, these are considerations of no special significance. To others they suggest pertinent tests.

The pedagogical aids, when present, are sometimes helpful and sometimes a sheer waste of space. They are sometimes so bad that pupils must be warned not to use them. The tests to be applied will depend upon the type of lesson which the teacher proposes to assign and the type of recitation to be followed.

Textbooks, as a rule, lack literary distinction. They cannot seriously claim to be works of literature. We have a right to demand grammatical English, clearness and definiteness of statement, and a connected story. We have also a right to demand that a book shall be

interesting. It is well, however, to analyze the nature of the interest. One way to make a book interesting is to parade the personal opinions of the author. If he praises and blames somewhat extravagantly, if he speculates somewhat daringly on what might have happened if something else had not happened, if he adopts now and then a flippant tone, if he makes of historical characters his personal friends and enemies, he is almost certain to be entertaining to young readers. Another way to make a book interesting is to enlarge on sensational episodes, to introduce backstairs gossip, to quote from speeches and state papers what is spicy rather than what is important. Interest may be attained at too great a cost. A book to be eminently respectable need not be eminently dull, but no eminently respectable work of textbook scope can at all points be interesting to all readers.