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native wood-notes wild.  Yet, in his "Enemies of Books," he

describes some rare encounters with the worm.  Dirty books, damp

books, dusty books, and books that the owner never opens, are most

exposed to the enemy; and "the worm, the proud worm, is the

conqueror still," as a didactic poet sings, in an ode on man's

mortality.  As we have quoted Mentzelius, it may not be amiss to

give D'Alembert's theory of book-worms:  "I believe," he says, "that

a little beetle lays her eggs in books in August, thence is hatched

a mite, like the cheese-mite, which devours books merely because it

is compelled to gnaw its way out into the air."  Book-worms like the

paste which binders employ, but D'Alembert adds that they cannot

endure absinthe.  Mr. Blades finds too that they disdain to devour

our adulterate modern paper.

"Say, shall I sing of rats," asked Grainger, when reading to Johnson

his epic, the "Sugar-cane."  "No," said the Doctor; and though rats

are the foe of the bibliophile, at least as much as of the sugar-

planter, we do not propose to sing of them.  M. Fertiault has done

so already in "Les Sonnets d'un Bibliophile," where the reader must

be pleased with the beautiful etchings of rats devouring an

illuminated MS., and battening on morocco bindings stamped with the

bees of De Thou.  It is unnecessary and it would be undignified, to

give hints on rat-catching, but the amateur must not forget that

these animals have a passion for bindings.

The book-collector must avoid gas, which deposits a filthy coat of

oil that catches dust.  Mr. Blades found that three jets of gas in a

small room soon reduced the leather on his book-shelves to a powder

of the consistency of snuff, and made the backs of books come away

in his hand.  Shaded lamps give the best and most suitable light for

the library.  As to the risks which books run at the hands of the

owner himself, we surely need not repeat the advice of Richard de

Bury.  Living in an age when tubs (if not unknown as M. Michelet

declares) were far from being common, the old collector inveighed

against the dirty hands of readers, and against their habit of

marking their place in a book with filthy straws, or setting down a

beer pot in the middle of the volume to keep the pages open.  But

the amateur, however refined himself, must beware of men who love

not fly leaves neither regard margins, but write notes over the

latter, and light their pipes with the former.  After seeing the

wreck of a book which these persons have been busy with, one

appreciates the fine Greek hyperbole.  The Greeks did not speak of

"thumbing" but of "walking up and down" on a volume ([Greek text]).

To such fellows it matters not that they make a book dirty and

greasy, cutting the pages with their fingers, and holding the boards

over the fire till they crack.  All these slatternly practices,

though they destroy a book as surely as the flames of Caesar's

soldiers at Alexandria, seem fine manly acts to the grobians who use

them.  What says Jules Janin, who has written "Contre l'indifference

des Philistins," "il faut a l'homme sage et studieux un tome

honorable et digne de sa louange."  The amateur, and all decent men,

will beware of lending books to such rude workers; and this

consideration brings us to these great foes of books, the borrowers

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