Competition and coordination in Swedish botanical publication, 1820–79: Eleven editions of Hartman’s Handbook

In 1820, a Handbook of the Flora of Scandinavia by Carl Hartman was published in Stockholm by Zacharias Haeggström. The Handbook was a successful project for both author and publisher: similar enough to textbooks and academic publications to appeal in educational settings, yet ostensibly written for the general public. The Handbook went through eleven editions, becoming the standard reference flora for Swedish botanists – academic as well as others – before being succeeded after 1879 by a range of specialized floras aimed at schoolboys, students, or academic botanists. The trajectory of Hartman’s Handbook through the nineteenth century highlights the changing conditions of Swedish botanical publication. It draws attention to authorship as a scientific career tool, and, conversely, the significance of scientific texts in the emergence of commercial publishing in the first half of the nineteenth century.


Introduction
At his death in 1849, Carl Johan Hartman was eulogized in the Transactions of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences for his achievements as "an author, a calling to which he devoted every available moment, with restless energy, until his last days." His biographer praised his contributions to botany -which had earned him membership of the academy -while his activities as a physician were tolerantly described as "causing no disruption to his writing career," despite medicine being his main occupation and source of income. 1 Carl Johan Hartman's enduring credit as an author was his Handbook of the Flora of Scandinavia, first published in 1820. The eleventh and final complete edition was published in 1879, three decades after his death, and edited by his son Carl Hartman. 2 Hartman's Handbook runs like "a green garland through most of the nineteenth century," in the words of Gunnar Eriksson, the foremost historian of Swedish botany. 3 Eriksson's imagery emphasizes the unifying qualities of the Handbook, drawing botanists of various backgrounds, occupations, and generations to a common standard. At the same time, each new revised edition aimed to adapt to developments in publication practices, education, and career opportunities, and the trajectory of the Handbook charts the changing conditions of Swedish botanical publication in the nineteenth century.
In this paper, I situate Hartman's Handbook in the landscape of scientific publication in nineteenth-century Sweden, examining it in the context of competition in the small botanical book market. I will show that its success depended on its relation to other botanical genres: similar enough to academic, Latin floras to merit serious consideration among botanists; accessible enough to appeal to a wider audience inside and outside Swedish schools; and benefiting, in its many editions, from the burgeoning botanical periodicals. In its inclusiveness, it profited from the problems of publishing science in Sweden, where scientific publication was normally a matter of private or public subsidies. For its publisher, it provided profit and respectability; for its authors, a means of building and maintaining positions, however different, in the Swedish botanical community. I examine its role in Swedish botany primarily as a matter of commercial competition -parallel to previous scholarship focusing on its role in contemporary debates about Naturphilosophie and Linnaean classification. 4 Jonathan Topham describes his study of Cambridge mathematics textbooks from a publishing perspective as "parallel" to Andrew Warwick's work on pedagogical practice. Jonathan Topham, "A Textbook Revolution," in Marina Frasca-Spada and Nicholas Jardine (eds.), Books and the Sciences

Hartman's Handbook between catalogs and textbooks
The first edition of the Handbook was a substantial volume. A lengthy preface, including references and instructions on collecting and preparing plants, was followed by a sixtypage introduction where the author explained the parts of plants, their classification, habitats, and seasons. The bulk of the book -almost 500 pages -consisted of descriptions of the plants of the Scandinavian peninsula, arranged first by class and order, second by genus, mainly according to the Linnaean system (with some modifications), and listing the characters, habitats, and localities of each species. There were no illustrations, apart from two diagrams showing the shapes of leaves and flowers. 6 In his Flora Lapponica (1737) and Flora suecica (1745), Linnaeus presented the species of a region or a country according to his system of classification and nomenclature, providing synonyms, habitats, and localities. "Floras" have a long history in botany, ranging from bare lists of species to herbals and multivolume catalogs, yet are often discussed as a genre in their own right. The format of Linnaeus's floras was followed by For Swedish readers, Carl Fredrik Hoffberg, a doctor, botanist, and contemporary of Linnaeus, published a brief guide to the Linnaean system and nomenclature in 1763, expanding it in two later editions with descriptions of the uses of Swedish plants for medicinal and economic purposes. Samuel Liljeblad's Utkast til en svensk flora from 1791 was, in its turn, presented as a companion to Hoffberg's Linnaean outline. 9 In later editions, Liljeblad's Utkast outgrew its predecessors as Liljeblad added species and simplified the Linnaean system. He addressed it to "beginners and perhaps farmers" who had little time for Latin, but it also appealed to the students Liljeblad was teaching at Uppsala University as "botanices demonstrator" in the absence of the professor of 10 botany, Linnaean disciple Carl Peter Thunberg. 10 Liljeblad published the book at his own expense, and it sold well enough to go to two further editions in 1798 and 1816. 11 Through Liljeblad's Utkast and its predecessors, Hartman's Handbook may be regarded a direct descendant of the comprehensive botanical works of Linnaeus. While Hoffberg's and Liljeblad's books had, at least initially, been cast as companions to the Linnaean canon, Hartman began by announcing his cautious departure from certain Linnaean maxims and diagnoses, for the purposes of "ease and certainty" in plant examination, and of acquainting his readers with more recent scientific views. He was, however, careful to distinguish it from more advanced botanical works that required a more knowledgeable reader, not least by the fact that it was written in Swedish. "Nothing," he wrote, "would have been easier than to turn this book into a learned work of several volumes," but instead he aimed for "comprehensibility, exactitude, and brevity," characterizing his book as a mere "index" compared to more voluminous and famous works. 12 He still introduced the reader, at some length, to botanical science and its philosophical debates, and he described the book as a useful and up-to-date guide to plant examination for beginners. 13 In the second edition, he further specified that it was "not intended for continuous reading, but for occasional use." 14 Hartman labeled his work a "handbook," although it was frequently referred to as a "flora." Hoffberg and Liljeblad had chosen to call their books a "guide" (anwisning) and an "outline" (utkast), respectively, shying away from direct comparison with the Linnaean model. Hartman's "handbook" suggested its use as a practical manual as well as a work of reference. 15 It shares its multiple roles with many other handbooks, as recently pointed out by Angela Creager, Mathias Grote, Elaine Leong, and their collaborators. Drawing on book history as well as the history of science, they explore handbooks and manuals across a wide range of disciplines, languages, and contexts, finding pamphlets, multivolume opuses, recipes, and encyclopedic tomes. But even though handbooks resist easy characterization as a genre, they differ from other educational genres, such as textbooks, in their focus on practical knowledge as well as in their different paths on the book market. 16 The development of science textbooks in the course of the nineteenth century provides an important complement to the trajectory of the Handbook. Antonio García-Belmar and José Ramón Bertomeu-Sanchez have pointed out the diversity among authors, audiences, and purposes of chemistry textbooks in the period. 17 By the second half of the century, textbooks were emerging as a distinct genre, reflecting new relationships between authors, publishers, readers, and, not least, the state in the shape of new educational institutions and regulations. 18 Handbooks, although less explicitly tied to specific educational contexts, underwent similar changes.
Placing Hartman's Handbook in a wider context of textbooks, catalogs, and handbooks, I examine it as a publishing product, rather than as an episode in the history of a specifically botanical "flora" genre. As a handbook, it resembled and competed with other handbooks, textbooks, and scholarly works in the emerging Swedish scientific book market. It was less ambitious than the Latin scholarly works of academic botanists, yet intervened in their debates; it appealed to students, but was unconstrained by the demands of teachers and curricula. The inclusive character of the Handbook reflects the persistently permeable boundaries of field botany, and the expanding Swedish community of botanists, both inside and outside of academic institutions. 19 For its author and its 20. Thus I focus on the producers, rather than the users, of the publisher, the handbook as a product was particularly fit to benefit from these multiple audiences. 20

Swedish botanical publication in the nineteenth century
Publishing science in Sweden was a risky business. Until the early nineteenth century, printing and publishing in Sweden were strictly regulated via permits and privileges. The new liberal press laws of 1810 established the freedom of the press, abolished printing privileges, relaxed the regulations on translations, and allowed anyone to operate a print shop and to trade in books. 21 In the following years a number of new businesses tried to take advantage of the new opportunities. 22 Among them were several academics attempting to improve their meager incomes and uncertain prospects. Vilhelm Fredrik Palmblad, who bought the academic printing shop in Uppsala in 1810, published Romantic periodicals before becoming professor, first of history, then of Greek, selling off the business at a profit in the 1830s. Botanist Carl Adolph Agardh tried his fortune at printing, less successfully, in Lund. He eventually attained the botany chair at Lund University and continued his involvement in scientific publication in other capacities. Hartman's publisher Zacharias Haeggström abandoned an academic career in oriental languages to open a printing shop in Stockholm in 1813. 23 However, few publications were likely to make a profit at all, except religious texts, almanacs, and scandals. 24 Despite his radical views on science and politics, the most reliable best-seller in Agardh's catalog was an overview of the Swedish liturgy. 25  commercial publisher N. M. Lindh, best known for his production of cheap translated novels, also relied on religious literature. As university printer, Palmblad could rely on academic and official commissions, but he published sermons, periodicals, and, increasingly, textbooks at his own expense. 26 Haeggström, too, built his catalog and reputation by publishing translations of international bestsellers, particularly books about Napoleon, but soon began specializing in handbooks and textbooks. 27 His first products in this field were translations of predominantly German textbooks -a lucrative strategy since the Swedish press laws recognized only the rights of the translator, not the original author. 28 Textbooks were, in fact, among the few scholarly publications at all likely to make a profit in early nineteenth-century Sweden. Jonathan Topham has emphasized the importance of textbooks in British publishing in the early nineteenth century, providing a relatively dependable audience for publishers as well as authors. 29 As Ann Shteir and Anne Secord have shown, the English market for botany in the first half of the nineteenth century allowed authors and publishers to produce a variety of textbooks targeted at different audiences. 30 The Swedish market for scientific publications was, unsurprisingly, smaller. Throughout the eighteenth century, conflicts over printing privileges had often focused on textbooks, but the abolishment of privileges made many of the classic texts stipulated in school curricula fair game for printers. 31 Secondary education was still limited to few students, fewer schools, and very few subjects, and competition was fierce. Science, in particular, had a weak presence in Swedish secondary schools in the first half of the nineteenth century. Although physics and natural history were included in the instructions to the school statutes of 1820, they had no fixed place in the curriculum, and there were seldom funds for hiring permanent teachers. 32 In Lund, Uppsala, and Stockholm, school science was often taught by academic professors to bolster meager salaries. Consequently, both books and teachers routinely crossed the boundaries between schools and universities. The unsettled status of science in secondary schools matched the ambiguity of the Handbook, with its multiple uses and audiences. As Hartman's publisher Haeggström put it: "It will be a good book for our secondary schools, when they have managed to raise themselves from their present savage state -until then, in the universities." 33 Haeggström and Hartman almost certainly envisioned the Handbook as a successor to Liljeblad's Utkast til en svensk flora, the most successful botanical textbook of the previous generation. The last edition of Liljeblad's book was published after his death in 1816, and was the result of collaboration between several young botanists, including future professors Elias Fries and Carl Adolph Agardh. 34 However, Fries, Agardh, and their fellow academic botanists in the generations after Linnaeus continued publishing mainly in Latin, with some Swedish publications aimed at agricultural audiences. 35 Like most books, their works were typically published for subscription, at the expense of the author, the printer, or occasionally other patrons. 36 There was general agreement among scholars and publishers that the conditions for Swedish scholarly publications remained poor. 37 In 1811, the chemist Berzelius complained that the potential readers of his own works were too few for publishing in Swedish, and, some years later, the printer and bookseller Nils Wilhelm Lundequist stated that only works of science printed in Latin or one of the great modern languages had any commercial prospects, unless intended for schools. 38 The 1739 and was, like many similar periodicals of its time, published in the vernacular rather than Latin, to make it more useful in accordance with the cameralist doctrine of the period. 39 It relied on government-sanctioned subsidies, and the academy occasionally contributed to the funding of struggling commercial projects in Swedish -notably the lavishly illustrated but troublesome Svensk botanik (1802-43), a multivolume catalog of Swedish plants -and served as a hub of Swedish scientific publications. 40 In the course of the nineteenth century, the scope of the Transactions -along with the academy itself -narrowed to focus on academic science rather than the broad range of topics and scholars included in the previous century. Although Swedish remained the official language, the Transactions eventually allowed papers in other European languages, as academy fellows increasingly sought their readers among scientists outside the country, rather than in the small Swedish scientific community. 41 Despite the precarious conditions for publishing botany in Swedish, a commercial botanical journal was launched in 1839. Botaniska notiser was the project of Elias Fries, then recently appointed professor of botany at Uppsala University, and Alexis Lindblom, nominally professor of philosophy at Lund University but a botanist by training and inclination, bringing experience of editing and writing for a local liberal newspaper. They modeled their journal after Flora oder Botanische Zeitung, published in Regensburg since 1802, and similarly aimed to "expand the study of Botany as well as its interest and esteem" in Scandinavia by publishing primarily floristic and plant geographical papers as well as reviews, correspondence, and notices. 42 The journal soon attracted papers from Although launched as an independent project, Botaniska notiser was published by academic botanists for the greater part of its run, and received intermittent government funding, keeping afloat despite repeated interruptions and changes in management. 43 Neither entirely academic nor commercial, Botaniska notiser illustrates the conditions for botanical publication in Sweden: benefiting in terms of funding and credentials from academic connections, but surviving as an enterprise by attracting subscribers and contributors outside academic circles. It adds to the picture of the strategies employed by editors of scientific periodicals in Britain and France in the early nineteenth century, as they navigated between political periodicals and academic publications bolstered by the funds of scientific societies. 44

Hartman's Handbook: Competition and the business of revision
As recounted by his biographers, Carl Johan Hartman (1790-1849) discovered botany when he "happened to come across" Liljeblad's Utkast as a young boy. Raised in the provincial town of Gävle to take over the family glazier's business, he nevertheless gained 45  Hartman with a source of income during the lean years of studying, private tutoring, and precarious medical positions. A commercial success for both Hartman and Haeggström, the Handbook nonetheless caused controversy on its first appearance. The critical reviews of the first two editions in 1820 and 1832 revolved around its offenses against Linnaean classification, its use of the Swedish language, and its merits as a textbook. Significantly, the most vociferous critics were both publishing botanical works of their own at the same time. Göran Wahlenberg, lecturer and eventually professor of botany in Uppsala, wrote a series of scathing, anonymous reviews of the 1820 Handbook while in the process of finalizing his own Latin Flora svecica, conceived as heir to Linnaeus's own. 48 The Uppsala printer Palmblad, who was taking a commercial chance on the Flora, also provided the forum for Wahlenberg's disapproval: his own periodical Svensk Literatur-Tidning. 49 The 1832 edition of the Handbook was critically reviewed by Carl Adolph Agardh, professor of botany at Lund University. He was publishing the second volume of his own Swedish botanical textbook in the same year, and objected strongly to the Handbook as precisely a "textbook" exposing students to its eclectic approach to botanical theories. However, he praised it as a "handbook" summarizing the field for the scientist: "it is careful; it is complete; it is not copied, but rather assimilated through the views of the author; and it meets a real need in our educational literature." 50 In the small Swedish botanical book market, with its precarious footing in schools, the Handbook threatened both textbooks and scholarly publications, and both reviewers had reason to fear for the success of their own, self-published works.
With each edition, the position of the Handbook among Swedish botanists seemed more secure. In contrast to Agardh's criticism of the second edition, Hartman's friend Johan Emanuel Wikström, professor of botany at the Royal Academy of Sciences, stated laconically: "The work is widely known and overwhelmingly used. A review is therefore superfluous." 51 However, the Swedish scholarly book market did not allow for complacency, and both Hartman and Haeggström worried about competition. When Hartman was working on the third edition, and simultaneously writing a textbook in natural history, he learned that Pehr Fredrik Wahlberg, acting professor of natural history at the Karolinska Institute of Medicine in Stockholm, was planning a textbook of his own. Realizing that two textbooks appearing at the same time would be "pointless," both 52. The word is used by both writers. Letter  Wahlberg and Hartman were anxious to avoid a "collision." 52 Hartman was reluctant to abandon his book and suggested collaboration, but Wahlberg declined. In the event, Hartman modified his plans and settled for a revised and expanded version of his own earlier translation of a German textbook. Wahlberg's book on fodder plants appeared in 1835, seemingly without conflict. 53 Haeggström steadily cajoled and nagged Hartman to publish more, and more quickly. Hartman's early translations of German textbooks remained successful in updated and expanded versions, but a projected "Flora Oeconomica" and a geography textbook never materialized, despite Haeggström's coaxing. 54 The Handbook remained a dependable item in the Haeggström catalog, and sold "most admirably in Lund, Uppsala, and Stockholm" (although Haeggström wrote sarcastically of boastful booksellers who "asked for 100 copies, orders 80, and sells 11 in a year"). New, revised editions appeared in 1832, 1838, and 1843, each edition selling slightly faster than the previous one. 55 Haeggström paid respectably: in 1845, he offered Hartman 500 Riksdaler for a new edition, and 250 for subsequent printings. 56 This was much more generous than the rate for textbook translations, but substantially less than the 3,000 Riksdaler offered by Haeggström's competitors P. A. Norstedt & Söner for a German textbook in 1849, indicating the still precarious position of science in schools and universities. 57 Haeggström's firm solidified its reputation as a publisher of textbooks and handbooks, but the success of the Handbook tempted competitors. In 1843, a young student, Johan Daniel Högberg, published a "Swedish flora" to devastating reviews and accusations of plagiarizing Hartman. Haeggström was nevertheless concerned: It is scandalous that Öberg, or Sjöberg, or whatever his name is, should have copied you; and it is not inconceivable that his book is being used, for I seem to note smaller sales of the 4th 58. Letter  Högberg's book was unsuccessful, but the range of botany books available to Swedish readers increased during the 1840s. The introduction of compulsory elementary education in 1842 increased the potential market for textbooks, and, in the following decade, new school statutes made botany mandatory for all secondary school students, although school science was slow to develop. 59 New textbooks and several local floras appeared, spurring Haeggström and Hartman to capitalize further on the success of the Handbook. They issued two abbreviated versions: a textbook, or "botanology," based on the introduction to the Handbook in 1843, and a "pocket flora" in 1846, intended for excursions at a mere 191 pages, and including Swedish plant names at Haeggström's behest. 60 When the Handbook first appeared, both its author and its publisher benefited from the precarious scientific book market and the shaky status of botanical education. Ostensibly aimed at botanical beginners, it could be used in schools even though it did not conform to a specific curriculum. Written in Swedish, it appealed to a wider audience than the Latin works published by academic botanists. But its flexibility also cast it as competition for a number of different kinds of publication: for Wahlenberg's scholarly Latin flora, for Agardh's academic textbook and for Wahlberg's economic one, and for the growing number of local floras appearing on the Swedish market.
To Haeggström, the Handbook as a product, and Hartman himself as an author, were components in a business that relied on constantly updating its catalog of handbooks and textbooks to maintain long-term profitability in the emerging, but still unreliable, Swedish market for scientific publications. 66 student, paying lavish tribute to the contributions of fellow botanists, and organizing his own last edition in 1849 according to the system of his influential friend Elias Fries. As the standing of the Handbook improved, Hartman still declared his business to be "editing" rather than "reforming" botanical systematics, treading the line between textbooks and academic botany. 66 His duties as a district medical officer kept him in Gävle, at some distance from Swedish academic centers at Uppsala, Lund, and Stockholm, and he maintained his position mainly through correspondence and authorship. Nevertheless, he reached a respectable position in the Swedish botanical community, was elected fellow of the Academy of Sciences in 1838, and attended the meetings of the Scandinavian Association for the Advancement of Science in 1840 and 1844. 67 The authors of the growing number of botanical textbooks and local floras in the second half of the century rarely achieved such honors. In other respects, their botanical career prospects were more promising. As teachers in the expanding secondary school system, they had an income as well as an audience, and Hartman's botanist sons Carl and Robert both followed this path. 68

Conclusion: Hartman's Handbook at the crossroads
Carl Johan Hartman died in 1849, barely finishing the fifth edition of the Handbook. His son Carl completed it and carried it through six more editions. It was more in demand than ever: a sixth edition was published in 1854, with three more in the following decade and a tenth in 1870. By then, the Handbook had achieved standard status among Swedish botanists. Authors of province floras arranged their books in the manner of Hartman, and collectors used it to organize their herbaria. 69 As the eleventh edition was prepared for print, Carl Hartman was contacted by Leopold Neuman, secretary of the Lund Botanical Society. The Society served as a hub for botanical specimen exchange in Sweden, and it published the most influential of several plant lists, used by botanists to estimate the value of their specimens. 70 Neuman was anxious to make sure that the Society's plant list conformed to the organization of the Handbook, and asked for advance copies of the new separate category in all disciplines, subject to different requirements. Dictionaries differed from language primers, atlases from geography textbooks, collections of mathematical tables and scientific formulae from textbooks in physics and chemistry. In botany, a "flora" was the stipulated handbook. 77 Hartman's Handbook may have seemed a blessing to teachers in the 1850s, when the new school statutes suddenly required them to supervise the herbaria of their students, but by 1869 teachers and students were using local floras: less cumbersome and more affordable, specifically targeted at students and plant collectors of particular regions. 78 (In fact, Carl Hartman's local flora of the region surrounding Örebro, intended for his own students, was relatively favorably assessed by Krok. 79 ) Simultaneously too advanced and not comprehensive enough, Hartman's Handbook now found itself sitting uneasily between categories. After the death of Carl Hartman in 1884, Krok himself attempted to take up the baton at the request of the family. 80 His revised version was published in specialized installments and acclaimed by field botanists, but did not survive beyond the first few ambitious volumes; nor did a second attempt thirty years later. 81 As envisioned by Hartman's posthumous followers, the Handbook would resemble the encyclopedic late nineteenth-century chemistry handbooks examined by Mathias Grote. Often produced serially, and intended for practitioners rather than students, they differed not only from textbooks, but from the multipurpose volumes produced by the Hartmans. 82 At the other end of the spectrum, Krok and fellow teacher Sigfrid Almquist (another key contributor to the final edition of the Handbook) published their own "Swedish flora" explicitly intended for schools. 83 Although some critics found it too elementary, it was more in line with the requirements stipulated by Krok in his evaluation, and soon achieved an unparalleled position in Swedish secondary schools. The Krok-Almquist flora, too, was published by the Haeggström firm -but while textbooks remained central products, Zacharias's son Ivar specialized in poetry and novels on the expanding Swedish book market of the late nineteenth century. 84 85. David E. Allen, "George Bentham's Handbook of the British Flora: From Controversy to Cult," Archives of Natural History 30 (2003): 224-36; see also Shteir, "Bentham for 'Beginners and Amateurs' and Ladies" (note 15). 86. David Allen notes that British attempts to replace Bentham's book in the same period failed on account of their grandiose scale. Allen, "George Bentham's Handbook," 233 (note 85).
The later editions of Hartman's Handbook overlap with the early years of George Bentham's Handbook of the Flora of the British Isles, which went through seven editions and revisions in the hands of several British botanists between 1858 and 1924. Bentham's Handbook offers contrasts as well as parallels with Hartman's. Like Hartman's, it was originally addressed to "beginners" but eventually reached a wider readership, particularly after the addition of illustrations to the second edition. But it remained controversial among academic botanists, despite the credentials of Bentham and Sir Joseph Hooker, who revised it in 1887. David Allen ascribes its longevity, in the face of academic criticism, mainly to a lack of competition. British field botanists longed for a book that could combine the features of an examination manual, a flora for students, and a comprehensive catalog, and in the absence of alternatives, Bentham's handbook filled the lacuna. 85 In the same period, and in spite of its established position among academic botanists as well as students and collectors, the task of navigating between textbook and catalog stretched Hartman's Handbook too far. As an author, the industrious Krok attempted to bridge the divide, but he did so through two separate publications. 86 The trajectory of Hartman's Handbook reflects changes in botanical education as well as in the Swedish book market. In its broad scope, it appealed to schoolboys, students, and established botanists, making it a profitable product in a precarious book market with a small scientific readership, particularly in Swedish, and a limited demand for textbooks. Its success continued as science education developed, in schools as well as universities, underpinning a vigorous and growing amateur community. Its demise marks the divergence of scientific genres and practices in the course of the nineteenth century, and partly -perhaps paradoxically -the strong position of botany in Swedish schools. By the second half of the nineteenth century, handbook authorship in botany was the path to school, rather than to the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, for books as well as authors. Despite Hartman's substantial revisions to the eleventh edition following the criticism of the textbook commission, the Handbook lost its position in the profitable textbook market and was supplanted by local floras and specialized handbooks intended directly for schools and mostly written by secondary school teachers. The particular role assigned to "handbooks" in Swedish botanical education by the textbook commission was eventually filled by the Krok-Almquist flora for schools, to the great gain of its authors and publishers. Hartman's Handbook had become the wrong kind of handbook.