Lang, Robert Buchanan, William Black, Bret Harte, Richard Le Gallienne, and others.

Of more recent purchases I have not space to write, as a brief description of the books obtained in the Christie-Miller sales would alone occupy the rest of this article. I cannot close this very inadequate sketch of the Huntington collection, however, without mention of some other interesting material.

AMERICANA

The Americana include a large collection of early maps and works referring to America; six original editions of the letters of Columbus; Carvajal's "Oratio ad Alexander VI," delivered June 19, 1493, containing the first official announcement of the discovery of America; many original manuscripts of Spanish discoverers and pioneers, including the Pizarro-La Gasca collection (1537 to 1580) of 3,000 MS. pages, with signed letters of Almagro, the Pizarros, etc., and of Charles V and Philip II, the latter signing as King of England; the manuscript (322 folio pages, 1571) of Pizarro's description of his cousin's discovery and conquest of Peru; the Venegas-Burriel (27 volumes), and many other original manuscripts relating to explorations in California; the secret report (1820) to the Spanish Cortes on the cession of Florida, etc.

Passing over other periods of American exploration which are also represented by much original material, some mention should be made of the large collection of books and manuscripts relating to the Revolution, such as the Destouches papers, containing many unpublished letters and documents signed by Washington, Lafayette, Rochambeau, De Grasse, and La Perouse; original letters and secret state documents of King George III on peace with the American Colonies, including one in which the King disclaims all responsibility for their loss; Benedict Arnold's original manuscript letter to Lord North giving an account of his treason; the manuscript journals of John André and Aaron Burr; and a large amount of original material relating to George Washington. The Rufus King collection of about 600 letters and documents, 1796 to 1802, contains many let

ters of John Quincy Adams, Timothy Pickering, James Madison, etc. Another collection of autograph letters relates to the American war on the Great Lakes, 1812-14.

The manuscript material dealing with the Civil War, most of it unpublished, is equally rich. It includes many Lincoln manuscripts, among which is the wellknown letter to the Ellsworth family on the death of their son, and a little notebook containing portions of his speeches; some remarkable letters of Robert E. Lee; and a large collection of unstudied documents.

Turning back to the "monuments of printing" which appeared before 1501, suffice it to say that the Library includes 5,300 incunabula from 794 different presses, more than all the libraries of Paris contained in 1910. Some 80 or go of these are the only known copies. Many of the incunabula are of great importance in the history of art and also in the history of medicine, astronomy, geography, and other branches of science. In this field also are a thirteenth-century manuscript of Ptolemy's "Almagest"; a remarkably fine pair of terrestrial and celestial globes by Jodocus Hondius, 1600; a copy of Gilbert's rare work "De Magnete," 1600, in which he first showed the earth to be a magnet; and other scientific books of various periods. Many of these are among the books by English authors before 1641, of which Mr. Huntington has over 10,000, more than one-third of the total number printed. In this field the library is surpassed only by the British Museum and the Bodleian.

It is difficult to attempt to select other rare books for special mention, as in more than 750 cases the Library possesses the only known copy. But readers who care for exceptional books will recognize the difficulty of passing in silence first editions of Dante's "Divine Comedy," 1472; Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales," 1478; and Spenser's "Faerie Queen," 1590. These are typical samples of thousands of first editions, some of which are as rare as the "Hamlet" of 1603, of which only one other copy exists.

One of the greatest treasures of the Library consists of the archives of the Earls of Huntingdon (the family of Hast

ings), comprising over 40,000 pieces. The collection of charters and royal grants from A. D. 1105 to 1688 includes the first known seal of the Knights Templar, the great seals of nineteen English kings and queens, and of scores of other leaders of church and state. The historical correspondence includes hundreds of royal letters and state documents. Among these are a letter from Henry VIII informing the Earl of Huntingdon that he is about to invade France and requesting him to furnish footmen and archers; a letter from Queen Mary appealing for troops to be sent to the relief of Calais; many letters from Queen Elizabeth, one appointing the then Earl of Huntingdon jailer of Mary Queen of Scots; and others of equal interest.

The Huntingdon family early turned its attention to America, and Captain Edward Hastings, brother of the fifth Earl, accompanied Sir Walter Raleigh on his disastrous expedition to Guiana in 1617. His letters and many others describe this expedition and the colonization of Virginia, 1610-25. One member of the family, who fought in the battle of Bunker Hill, wrote long letters that give a vivid picture of the Revolution.

The Stowe archives, including more than a million papers, are quite comparable in interest and importance with the Huntingdon papers.

The Art Gallery contains a remarkable collection of more than forty British portraits, by Gainsborough, Reynolds, Romney, Lawrence, Raeburn, and Hoppner, formerly in the possession of Earl Spencer, William Beckford, Lord Petre, the Duke of Westminster, the Earl of Harrington, the Earl of Crewe, and other English families, which is certainly unrivalled. The landscape group, small at present, includes fine examples of Constable and Turner. Passing over the

statuary and the Beauvais tapestries after Boucher, mention should be made of many illuminated manuscripts, missals, and books of hours, countless engravings and prints, and a collection of English seals dating from the twelfth century, equalled only by the British Museum. At present Mr. Huntington is preparing an art collection in memory of Mrs. Huntington, including nineteen Italian primitives formerly in her possession.

It can hardly be denied that Mr. Huntington has amply repaid his indebtedness to the rich resources of England. The masterpieces of the period of Reynolds and Gainsborough, previously seen only by the guests of titled families, will ultimately be accessible to public view and will inspire the work of artists competent to profit by them. Manuscripts that have reposed in private coffers and books that have escaped the scholar in the safe retreat of country houses will soon serve for the production of new chapters in the history of literature, art, and science. Moreover, those of us who regard with affection the land of our ancestors will hope that the Huntington collections, in the process of time, may serve to increase American appreciation of our debt to the past and aid in uniting the Englishspeaking peoples. The American critic who talks glibly of the "decadence" of the English should study the history of science and learn that it now stands in England at a level never before attained. And the Briton who honestly believes that American civilization is still in the frontier stage might do well, for example, to make a comparative study of modern British and American architecture. Careful inquiry and the dissemination of sound knowledge will heighten mutual respect and help to accomplish that unity of purpose which is so necessary to the stability of the modern world.

T

HE last quarter of a century has been a golden age of medical discovery. One disease after the other, hitherto ranked in the highly fatal and unmanageable class, has yielded its terrors to the weapons of medical science. Medicine is rapidly emerging from the shadow of empiricism and becoming an exact science in the same sense as bridge-building and tunnel-construction.

The soupy infusion of foxglove, used as a heart stimulant during the nineteenth century, has been superseded by a standardized tincture, thoroughly tested by experiments on the cat's heart. The "shotgun prescription," meaning a fancy conglomeration of drugs that cured Mrs. Casey of pain in the back and should therefore help Mr. Jones's lumbago, is now a back number; it has been replaced by specific serums, vaccines, and hormones. The old-fashioned diagnosis of "acute indigestion" has been buried alongside the bones of its victims; to-day the tricky appendix is taken out in time to thwart death.

In brief, the old-time mental attitude of the profession, expressed by the statement, "I have found that this prescription hits the mark every time," is entirely out of date. The question now is: "What is the rationale of this method of treatment?"

Great should be the glory of the body of medical men that has so far advanced the efficiency of the healing art. But, as a matter of fact, the public has reacted unfavorably to changed methods of medical practice. In the memory of octogenarians, the prestige of our doctors with the public has never been lower. "Where,

oh, where, is the good old family doctor of bygone years?" is the cry everywhere from an aggrieved public.

Comparisons are sometimes odious. Many folk seem to regard the modern medical man as a deteriorated pigmy of the idolized old-time country doctor. They do not have the same respect for the medical man of to-day as was held back in the nineties. The doctor has changed. The public no longer look up to him.

The arrival of the doctor in the nineties was an event of importance. His coat and hat were handled reverently, and his cane guarded like an emblem of royalty. With due ceremony, the practitioner was ushered into the presence of the sick. Every statement was carefully noted by those present; every order heeded to the smallest detail. When the doctor departed, he was escorted respectfully to the door. Perhaps his fee was only fifty cents and he had to drive ten miles with a horse to earn it. Just the same, he was treated with that respect and consideration that always gladden the heart of a professional man. As for questioning his diagnosis or method of treatment, the family would just as soon seek redress from a decree of the Supreme Court of the United States.

Simplicity marks the welcome of the doctor of to-day. As he rings the doorbell, a voice calls from up-stairs: “Mary, see whether that's the iceman or the doctor."

Mary inspects the doctor carefully, apparently in doubt as to his identity. Not seeing the tongs and cake of ice, she calls up: "It's the doctor."

"Tell him to come up," is the curt command from above.

As the physician enters the sick-room, the occupants eye him suspiciously. If

he could interpret looks, he would read such unflattering messages as these:

"He's entirely too young! I wonder if he knows the difference between a boil and a cancer."

"That looks like a fifteen-dollar suit he has on."

"He acts as if this were the first patient he ever had."

If it disagrees with the preconceived notions of the family, the diagnosis is treated with contemptuous scorn, and the directions as to treatment travel via the time-honored route, in one ear and out the other.

As the doctor departs without his fee, picking his hat and coat off the floor where Mary has dropped them, three voices blurt out in unison: "The idea! Pleurisy! Send for another doctor right away!"

Such is the prestige of the modern doctor!

GLORIFYING THE OLD-TIME COUNTRY

DOCTOR

Who was the old-time country doctor about whom we hear so much? What made him so great? Just what were his qualifications?

The old-time doctor was trained primarily as an apprentice to a practising physician. The student accompanied the practitioner on his rounds, watched his methods of examining the sick, and committed to rote the shotgun prescriptions from which such marvellous results were expected.

In this manner a type of medical practice that amounted to little more than systematized folklore was passed on from one generation to the next. The fundamental principle underlying this form of medical education was that experience teaches; but the experience was that of the individual doctor who was doing the teaching, not of the organized body of the profession.

The student had but one preceptor, whose example he followed religiously. Good, bad, or indifferent, the experience and prejudices of that single teacher were passed on to the future country doctor as his main stock in trade.

It is true that the term of apprenticeship was supplemented with a course of college lectures. But these desultory di

dactic lectures bore but slight resemblance to the highly organized medical curriculum of to-day. Twenty years ago America had more medical schools than all other countries combined; but what she had in quantity she lacked in quality.

The eighties and nineties were the Dark Ages in the training of America's doctors. An apprenticeship with a competent practitioner of medicine has definite advantages; but there is little to be said in favor of a perfunctory course of instruction at a third-rate college.

The renaissance in medical education did not begin until 1907. At that time, the American Medical Association, the representative body of America's physicians, investigated the one hundred and sixty colleges then existing and found the most deplorable conditions. In some institutions one teacher constituted the entire faculty. By word of mouth he attempted to teach anatomy without dissection. The blackboard took the place of the chemical laboratory; a stuffed dummy, the living patient; and a few graceful gestures of the hand, the steps in the removal of the diseased appendix.

One medical college, in 1905, graduated one hundred and five M.D.s who had never dissected the human body, worked in the laboratory, or been given a chance to see a single patient in the dispensary or hospital.

Doctors are not born such; they are nothing more than the products of a highly specialized education. And the old country doctor suffered a tremendous handicap with respect to the limitations of his education.

I do not wish to detract from the glory of the physician of the eighties and thereabouts. His wits were sharp, his judgment sound, and his heart stanch. He accomplished wonders with his limited equipment. He was a great pioneer.

Most emphatically, however, must one pooh-pooh the idea that, man for man, the practitioner of thirty or forty years. ago was a better doctor than the product of to-day. He could not be, for his training was vastly inferior, and his opportunities for advancement less. The modern automobile is a great improvement over the one-horse shay; so is the physician of to-day over the old-time country doctor.