A Book for All Readers

DESIGNED AS AN AID TO THE

COLLECTION, USE, AND PRESERVATION

OF BOOKS

AND THE

FORMATION OF PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LIBRARIES

BY

Ainsworth Rand Spofford

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK & LONDON
1900

Copyright 1900

by

A R Spofford

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

A BOOK FOR ALL READERS

CHAPTER 1.

The Choice of Books.

When we survey the really illimitable field of human knowledge, the vast accumulation of works already printed, and the ever-increasing flood of new books poured out by the modern press, the first feeling which is apt to arise in the mind is one of dismay, if not of despair. We ask—who is sufficient for these things? What life is long enough—what intellect strong enough, to master even a tithe of the learning which all these books contain? But the reflection comes to our aid that, after all, the really important books bear but a small proportion to the mass. Most books are but repetitions, in a different form, of what has already been many times written and printed. The rarest of literary qualities is originality. Most writers are mere echoes, and the greater part of literature is the pouring out of one bottle into another. If you can get hold of the few really best books, you can well afford to be ignorant of all the rest. The reader who has mastered Kames's "Elements of Criticism," need not spend his time over the multitudinous treatises upon rhetoric. He who has read Plutarch's Lives thoroughly has before him a gallery of heroes which will go farther to instruct him in the elements of character than a whole library of modern biographies. The student of the best plays of Shakespeare may save his time by letting other and inferior dramatists alone. He whose imagination has been fed upon Homer, Dante, Milton, Burns, and Tennyson, with a few of the world's master-pieces in single poems like Gray's Elegy, may dispense with the whole race of poetasters. Until you have read the best fictions of Scott, Thackeray, Dickens, Hawthorne, George Eliot, and Victor Hugo, you should not be hungry after the last new novel,—sure to be forgotten in a year, while the former are perennial. The taste which is once formed upon models such as have been named, will not be satisfied with the trashy book, or the spasmodic school of writing.

What kind of books should form the predominant part in the selection of our reading, is a question admitting of widely differing opinions. Rigid utilitarians may hold that only books of fact, of history and science, works crammed full of knowledge, should be encouraged. Others will plead in behalf of lighter reading, or for a universal range. It must be admitted that the most attractive reading to the mass of people is not scientific or philosophical. But there are many very attractive books outside the field of science, and outside the realm of fiction, books capable of yielding pleasure as well as instruction. There are few books that render a more substantial benefit to readers of any age than good biographies. In them we find those personal experiences and adventures, those traits of character, that environment of social and domestic life, which form the chief interest in works of fiction. In fact, the novel, in its best estate, is only biography amplified by imagination, and enlivened by dialogue. And the novel is successful only when it succeeds in depicting the most truly the scenes, circumstances, and characters of real life. A well written biography, like that of Dr. Johnson, by Boswell, Walter Scott, by Lockhart, or Charles Dickens, by Forster, gives the reader an insight into the history of the times they lived in, the social, political, and literary environment, and the impress of their famous writings upon their contemporaries. In the autobiography of Dr. Franklin, one of the most charming narratives ever written, we are taken into the writer's confidence, sympathize with his early struggles, mistakes, and successes, and learn how he made himself, from a poor boy selling ballads on Boston streets, into a leader among men, whom two worlds have delighted to honor. Another most interesting book of biography is that of the brothers William and Robert Chambers, the famous publishers of Edinburgh, who did more to diffuse useful knowledge, and to educate the people, by their manifold cheap issues of improving and entertaining literature, than was ever done by the British Useful Knowledge Society itself.

The French nation has, of all others, the greatest genius for personal memoirs, and the past two centuries are brought far more vividly before us in these free-spoken and often amusing chronicles, than in all the formal histories. Among the most readable of these (comparatively few having been translated into English) are the Memoirs of Marmontel, Rousseau, Madame Rémusat, Amiel, and Madame De Staël. The recently published memoirs by Imbert de St. Amand, of court life in France in the times of Marie Antoinette, Josephine, Marie Louise, and other periods, while hastily written and not always accurate, are lively and entertaining.

The English people fall far behind the French in biographic skill, and many of their memoirs are as heavy and dull as the persons whom they commemorate. But there are bright exceptions, in the lives of literary men and women, and in some of those of noted public men in church and state. Thus, there are few books more enjoyable than Sydney Smith's Memoirs and Letters, or Greville's Journals covering the period including George IV to Victoria, or the Life and Letters of Macaulay, or Mrs. Gaskell's Charlotte Brontë, or the memoirs of Harriet Martineau, or Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson. Among the briefer biographies worthy of special mention are the series of English Men of Letters, edited by John Morley, and written by some of the best of contemporary British writers. They embrace memoirs of Chaucer, Spenser, Bacon, Sidney, Milton, De Foe, Swift, Sterne, Fielding, Locke, Dryden, Pope, Johnson, Gray, Addison, Goldsmith, Burke, Hume, Gibbon, Bunyan, Bentley, Sheridan, Burns, Cowper, Southey, Scott, Byron, Lamb, Coleridge, Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth, De Quincey, Macaulay, Landor, Dickens, Thackeray, Hawthorne, and Carlyle. These biographies, being quite compendious, and in the main very well written, afford to busy readers a short-hand method of acquainting themselves with most of the notable writers of Britain, their personal characteristics, their relation to their contemporaries, and the quality and influence of their works. Americans have not as yet illustrated the field of biographic literature by many notably skilful examples. We are especially deficient in good autobiographies, so that Dr. Franklin's stands almost alone in singular merit in that class. We have an abundance of lives of notable generals, professional men, and politicians, in which indiscriminate eulogy and partisanship too often usurp the place of actual facts, and the truth of history is distorted to glorify the merits of the subject of the biography. The great success of General Grant's own Memoirs, too, has led publishers to tempt many public men in military or civil life, into the field of personal memoirs, not as yet with distinguished success.

It were to be wished that more writers possessed of some literary skill, who have borne a part in the wonderful drama involving men and events enacted in this country during the century now drawing to a close, had given us their sincere personal impressions in autobiographic form. Such narratives, in proportion as they are truthful, are far more trustworthy than history written long after the event by authors who were neither observers nor participants in the scenes which they describe.

Among American biographies which will help the reader to gain a tolerably wide acquaintance with the men and affairs of the past century in this country, are the series of Lives of American Statesmen, of which thirty volumes have been published. These include Washington, the Adamses, Jefferson, Franklin, Hamilton, Jay, Madison, Marshall, Monroe, Henry, Gallatin, Morris, Randolph, Jackson, Van Buren, Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Cass, Benton, Seward, Lincoln, Chase, Stevens, and Sumner. While these Memoirs are of very unequal merit, they are sufficiently instructive to be valuable to all students of our national history.

Another very useful series is that of American Men of Letters, edited by Charles Dudley Warner, in fifteen volumes, which already includes Franklin, Bryant, Cooper, Irving, Noah Webster, Simms, Poe, Emerson, Ripley, Margaret Fuller, Willis, Thoreau, Taylor, and Curtis.

In the department of history, the best books for learners are not always the most famous. Any mere synopsis of universal history is necessarily dry reading, but for a constant help in reference, guiding one to the best original sources, under each country, and with very readable extracts from the best writers treating on each period, the late work of J. N. Larned, "History for Ready Reference," five volumes, will be found invaluable. Brewer's Historic Note Book, in a single volume, answers many historic queries in a single glance at the alphabet. For the History of the United States, either John Fiske's or Eggleston's is an excellent compend, while for the fullest treatment, Bancroft's covers the period from the discovery of America up to the adoption of the constitution in 1789, in a style at once full, classical, and picturesque. For continuations, McMaster's History of the People of the United States covers the period from 1789 to 1824, and is being continued. James Schouler has written a History of the United States from 1789 to 1861, in five volumes, while J. F. Rhodes ably covers the years 1850 to the Civil War with a much more copious narrative.

For the annals of England, the Short History of England by J. R. Green is a most excellent compend. For more elaborate works, the histories of Hume and Macaulay bring the story of the British Empire down to about 1700. For the more modern period, Lecky's History of England in the 18th century is excellent, and for the present century, McCarthy's History of Our Own Time, and Miss Martineau's History of England, 1815-52, are well written works. French history is briefly treated in the Student's History of France, while Guizot's complete History, in eight volumes, gives a much fuller account, from the beginnings of France in the Roman period, to the year 1848. Carlyle's French Revolution is a splendid picture of that wonderful epoch, and Sloane's History of Napoleon gives very full details of the later period.

For the history of Germany, Austria, Russia, France, Spain, Italy, Holland, and other countries, the various works in the "Story of the Nations" series, are excellent brief histories.

Motley's Rise of the Dutch Republic and his United Netherlands are highly important and well written historical works.

The annals of the ancient world are elaborately and ably set forth in Grote's History of Greece, Merivale's Rome, and Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

Another class of books closely allied to biography and history, is the correspondence of public men, and men of letters, with friends and contemporaries. These familiar letters frequently give us views of social, public, and professional life which are of absorbing interest. Among the best letters of this class may be reckoned the correspondence of Horace Walpole, Madame de Sévigné, the poets Gray and Cowper, Lord Macaulay, Lord Byron, and Charles Dickens. Written for the most part with unstudied ease and unreserve, they entertain the reader with constant variety of incident and character, while at the same time they throw innumerable side-lights upon the society and the history of the time.

Next, we may come to the master-pieces of the essay-writers. You will often find that the best treatise on any subject is the briefest, because the writer is put upon condensation and pointed statement, by the very form and limitations of the essay, or the review or magazine article. Book-writers are apt to be diffuse and episodical, having so extensive a canvas to cover with their literary designs. Among the finest of the essayists are Montaigne, Lord Bacon, Addison, Goldsmith, Macaulay, Sir James Stephen, Cardinal Newman, De Quincey, Charles Lamb, Washington Irving, Emerson, Froude, Lowell, and Oliver Wendell Holmes. You may spend many a delightful hour in the perusal of any one of these authors.

We come now to poetry, which some people consider very unsubstantial pabulum, but which forms one of the most precious and inspiring portions of the literature of the world. In all ages, the true poet has exercised an influence upon men's minds that is unsurpassed by that of any other class of writers. And the reason is not far to seek. Poetry deals with the highest thoughts, in the most expressive language. It gives utterance to all the sentiments and passions of humanity in rhythmic and harmonious verse. The poet's lines are remembered long after the finest compositions of the writers of prose are forgotten. They fasten themselves in the memory by the very flow and cadence of the verse, and they minister to that sense of melody that dwells in every human brain. What the world owes to its great poets can never be fully measured. But some faint idea of it may be gained from the wondrous stimulus given through them to the imaginative power, and from the fact that those sentiments of human sympathy, justice, virtue, and freedom, which inspire the best poetry of all nations, become sooner or later incarnated in their institutions. This is the real significance of the oft-quoted saying of Andrew Fletcher, that stout Scotch republican of two centuries ago, that if one were permitted to make all the ballads of a nation, he need not care who should make the laws.

In the best poetry, the felicity of its expressions of thought, joined with their rhythmical form, makes it easy for the reader to lay up almost unconsciously a store in the memory of the noblest poetic sentiments, to comfort or to divert him in many a weary or troubled hour. Hence time is well spent in reading over and over again the great poems of the world. Far better and wiser is this, than to waste it upon the newest trash that captivates the popular fancy, for the last will only tickle the intellectual palate for an hour, or a day, and be then forgotten, while the former will make one better and wiser for all time.

Nor need one seek to read the works of very many writers in order to fill his mind with images of truth and beauty which will dwell with him forever. The really great poets in the English tongue may be counted upon the fingers. Shakespeare fitly heads the list—a world's classic, unsurpassed for reach of imagination, variety of scenes and characters, profound insight, ideal power, lofty eloquence, moral purpose, the most moving pathos, alternating with the finest humor, and diction unequalled for strength and beauty of expression. Milton, too, in his minor poems, has given us some of the noblest verse in the language. There is poetry enough in his L'Allegro and Il Penseroso to furnish forth a whole galaxy of poets.

Spenser and Pope, Gray and Campbell, Goldsmith and Burns, Wordsworth and the Brownings, Tennyson and Longfellow,—these are among the other foremost names in the catalogue of poets which none can afford to neglect. Add to these the best translations of Homer, Virgil, Horace, Dante, and Goethe, and one need not want for intellectual company and solace in youth or age.

Among the books which combine entertainment with information, the best narratives of travellers and voyagers hold an eminent place. In them the reader enlarges the bounds of his horizon, and travels in companionship with his author all over the globe. While many, if not the most, of the books of modern travellers are filled with petty incidents and personal observations of no importance, there are some wonderfully good books of this attractive class. Such are Kinglake's "Eothen, or traces of travel in the East," Helen Hunt Jackson's "Bits of Travel," a volume of keen and amusing sketches of German and French experiences, the books of De Amicus on Holland, Constantinople, and Paris, those on England by Emerson, Hawthorne, William Winter, and Richard Grant White, Curtis's Nile Notes, Howell's "Venetian Life," and Taine's "Italy, Rome and Naples."

The wide domain of science can be but cursorily touched upon. Many readers get so thorough a distaste for science in early life—mainly from the fearfully and wonderfully dry text-books in which our schools and colleges have abounded—that they never open a scientific book in later years. This is a profound mistake, since no one can afford to remain ignorant of the world in which we live, with its myriad wonders, its inexhaustible beauties, and its unsolved problems. And there are now works produced in every department of scientific research which give in a popular and often in a fascinating style, the revelations of nature which have come through the study and investigation of man. Such books are "The Stars and the Earth," Kingsley's "Glaucus, or Wonders of the Shore," Clodd's "Story of Creation," (a clear account of the evolution theory) Figuier's "Vegetable World," and Professor Langley's "New Astronomy." There are wise specialists whose published labors have illuminated for the uninformed reader every nook and province of the mysteries of creation, from the wing of a beetle to the orbits of the planetary worlds. There are few pursuits more fascinating than those that bring us acquainted with the secrets of nature, whether dragged up from the depths of the sea, or demonstrated in the substance and garniture of the green earth, or wrung from the far-off worlds in the shining heavens.

A word only can be spared to the wide and attractive realm of fiction. In this field, those are the best books which have longest kept their hold upon the public mind. It is a wise plan to neglect the novels of the year, and to read (or to re-read in many cases) the master-pieces which have stood the test of time, and criticism, and changing fashions, by the sure verdict of a call for continually new editions. Ouida and Trilby may endure for a day, but Thackeray and Walter Scott are perennial. It is better to read a fine old book through three times, than to read three new books through once.

Of books more especially devoted to the history of literature, in times ancient and modern, and in various nations, the name is legion. I count up, of histories of English literature alone (leaving out the American) no less than one hundred and thirty authors on this great field or some portion of it. To know what ones of these to study, and what to leave alone, would require critical judgment and time not at my command. I can only suggest a few known by me to be good. For a succinct yet most skilfully written summary of English writers, there is no book that can compare with Stopford A. Brooke's Primer of English Literature. For more full and detailed treatment, Taine's History of English Literature, or Chambers' Cyclopaedia of English Literature, two volumes, with specimens of the writers of every period, are the best. E. C. Stedman's Victorian Poets is admirable, as is also his Poets of America. For a bird's eye view of American authors and their works, C. F. Richardson's Primer of American Literature can be studied to advantage, while for more full reference to our authors, with specimens of each, Stedman's Library of American Literature in eleven volumes, should be consulted. M. C. Tyler's very interesting critical History of the Early American Literature, so little known, comes down in its fourth volume only to the close of the revolution in 1783.

For classical literature, the importance of a good general knowledge of which can hardly be overrated, J. P. Mahaffy's History of Greek Literature, two volumes, and G. A. Simcox's Latin Literature, two volumes, may be commended. On the literature of modern languages, to refer only to works written in English, Saintsbury's Primer of French Literature is good, and R. Garnett's History of Italian Literature is admirable (by the former Keeper of Printed Books in the British Museum Library). Lublin's Primer of German Literature is excellent for a condensed survey of the writers of Germany, while W. Scherer's History of German Literature, two volumes, covers a far wider field. For Spanish Literature in its full extent, there is no work at all equal to George Ticknor's three volumes, but for a briefer history, H. B. Clark's Hand-book of Spanish Literature, London, 1893, may be used.

I make no allusion here to the many works of reference in the form of catalogues and bibliographical works, which may be hereafter noted. My aim has been only to indicate the best and latest treatises covering the leading literatures of the world, having no space for the Scandinavian, Dutch, Portuguese, Russian, or any of the Slavonic or oriental tongues.

Those who find no time for studying the more extended works named, will find much profit in devoting their hours to the articles in the Encyclopaedia Britannica upon the literatures of the various countries. These are within reach of everyone.

The select list of books named in this chapter does not by any means aim to cover those which are well worth reading; but only to indicate a few, a very few, of the best. It is based on the supposition that intelligent readers will give far less time to fiction than to the more solid food of history, biography, essays, travels, literary history, and applied science. The select list of books in the fields already named is designed to include only the most improving and well-executed works. Many will not find their favorites in the list, which is purposely kept within narrow limits, as a suggestion only of a few of the best books for a home library or for general reading. You will find it wise to own, as early in life as possible, a few of the choicest productions of the great writers of the world. Those who can afford only a selection from a selection, can begin with never so few of the authors most desired, or which they have not already, putting in practice the advice of Shakespeare:

"In brief, sir, study what you most affect."

Says John Ruskin: "I would urge upon every young man to obtain as soon as he can, by the severest economy, a restricted and steadily increasing series of books, for use through life; making his little library, of all his furniture, the most studied and decorative piece." And Henry Ward Beecher urged it as the most important early ambition for clerks, working men and women, and all who are struggling up in life, to form gradually a library of good books. "It is a man's duty," says he, "to have books. A library is not a luxury, but one of the necessaries of life."

And says Bishop Hurst, urging the vital importance of wise selection in choosing our reading: "If two-thirds of the shelves of the typical domestic library were emptied of their burden, and choice books put in their stead, there would be reformation in intelligence and thought throughout the civilized world."

Selection of Books for Public Libraries.

Let us now consider the subject of books fitted for public libraries. At the outset, it is most important that each selection should be made on a well considered plan. No hap-hazard, or fitfully, or hastily made collection can answer the two ends constantly to be aimed at—namely, first, to select the best and most useful books, and, secondly, to economize the funds of the library. No money should be wasted upon whims and experiments, but every dollar should be devoted to the acquisition of improving books.

As to the principles that should govern and the limitations to be laid down, these will depend much upon the scope of the library, and the amount of its funds. No library of the limited and moderate class commonly found in our public town libraries can afford to aim at the universal range of a national library, nor even at the broad selections proper to a liberally endowed city library.

But its aims, while modest, should be comprehensive enough to provide a complete selection of what may be termed standard literature, for the reading public. If the funds are inadequate to do this in the beginning, it should be kept constantly in view, as the months and years go on. Every great and notable book should be in the library sooner or later, and if possible at its foundation. Thus will its utility and attractiveness both be well secured.

Taking first the case of a small public library about to be started, let us see in a few leading outlines what it will need.

1. A selection of the best works of reference should be the corner-stone of every library collection. In choosing these, regard must be had to secure the latest as well as the best. Never buy the first edition of Soule's Synonymes because it is cheap, but insist upon the revised and enlarged edition of 1892. Never acquire an antiquated Lempriere's or Anthon's Classical Dictionary, because some venerable library director, who used it in his boyhood, suggests it, when you can get Professor H. T. Peck's "Dictionary of Classical Antiquities," published in 1897. Never be tempted to buy an old edition of an encyclopaedia at half or quarter price, for it will be sure to lack the populations of the last census, besides being a quarter of a century or more in arrears in its other information. When consulting sale catalogues to select reference books, look closely at the dates of publication, and make sure by your American or English catalogues that no later edition has appeared. It goes without saying that you will have these essential bibliographies, as well as Lowndes' Manual of English Literature first of all, whether you are able to buy Watt and Brunet or not.

2. Without here stopping to treat of books of reference in detail, which will appear in another place, let me refer to some other great classes of literature in which every library should be strong. History stands fairly at the head, and while a newly established library cannot hope to possess at once all the noted writers, it should begin by securing a fine selection, embracing general history, ancient and modern, and the history of each country, at least of the important nations. For compendious short histories, the "Story of the Nations" series, by various writers, should be secured, and the more extensive works of Gibbon, Grote, Mommsen, Duruy, Fyffe, Green, Macaulay, Froude, McCarthy, Carlyle, Thiers, Bancroft, Motley, Prescott, Fiske, Schouler, McMaster, Buckle, Guizot, etc., should be acquired. The copious lists of historical works appended to Larned's "History for Ready Reference" will be useful here.

3. Biography stands close to history in interest and importance. For general reference, or the biography of all nations, Lippincott's Universal Pronouncing Dictionary of Biography is essential, as well as Appleton's Cyclopaedia of American Biography, for our own country. For Great Britain, the "Dictionary of National Biography" is a mine of information, and should be added if funds are sufficient. Certain sets of collective biographies which are important are American Statesmen, 26 vols., Englishmen of Letters, — vols., Autobiography, 33 vols., Famous Women series, 21 vols., Heroes of the Nation series, 24 vols., American Pioneers and Patriots, 12 vols., and Plutarch's Lives. Then of indispensable single biographies there are Boswell's Johnson, Lockhart's Scott, Froude's Carlyle, Trevelyan's Macaulay, Froude's Caesar, Lewes' Goethe, etc.

4. Of notable essays, a high class of literature in which there are many names, may be named Addison, Montaigne, Bacon, Goldsmith, Emerson, Lamb, De Quincey, Holmes, Lowell, etc.

5. Poetry stands at the head of all the literature of imagination. Some people of highly utilitarian views decry poetry, and desire to feed all readers upon facts. But that this is a great mistake will be apparent when we consider that the highest expressions of moral and intellectual truth and the most finely wrought examples of literature in every nation are in poetic form. Take out of the world's literature the works of its great poets, and you would leave it poor indeed. Poetry is the only great source for the nurture of imagination, and without imagination man is a poor creature. I read the other day a dictum of a certain writer, alleging that Dickens's Christmas Carol is far more effective as a piece of writing than Milton's noble ode "On the Morning of Christ's Nativity." Such comparisons are of small value. In point of fact, no library can spare either of them. I need not repeat the familiar names of the great poets; they are found in all styles of production, and some of the best are among the least expensive.

6. Travels and voyages form a very entertaining as well as highly instructive part of a library. A good selection of the more notable will prove a valuable resource to readers of nearly every age.

7. The wide field of science should be carefully gleaned for a good range of approved text-books in each department. So progressive is the modern world that the latest books are apt to be the best in each science, something which is by no means true in literature.

8. In law, medicine, theology, political science, sociology, economics, art, architecture, music, eloquence, and language, the library should be provided with the leading modern works.

9. We come now to fiction, which the experience of all libraries shows is the favorite pabulum of about three readers out of four. The great demand for this class of reading renders it all the more important to make a wise and improving selection of that which forms the minds of multitudes, and especially of the young. This selection presents to every librarian and library director or trustee some perplexing problems. To buy indiscriminately the new novels of the day, good, bad, and indifferent (the last named greatly predominating) would be a very poor discharge of the duty devolving upon those who are the responsible choosers of the reading of any community. Conceding, as we must, the vast influence and untold value of fiction as a vehicle of entertainment and instruction, the question arises—where can the line be drawn between the good and improving novels, and novels which are neither good nor improving? This involves something more than the moral tone and influence of the fictions: it involves their merits and demerits as literature also. I hold it to be the bounden duty of those who select the reading of a community to maintain a standard of good taste, as well as of good morals. They have no business to fill the library with wretched models of writing, when there are thousand of good models ready, in numbers far greater than they have money to purchase. Weak and flabby and silly books tend to make weak and flabby and silly brains. Why should library guides put in circulation such stuff as the dime novels, or "Old Sleuth" stories, or the slip-slop novels of "The Duchess," when the great masters of romantic fiction have endowed us with so many books replete with intellectual and moral power? To furnish immature minds with the miserable trash which does not deserve the name of literature, is as blameworthy as to put before them books full of feverish excitement, or stories of successful crime.

We are told, indeed (and some librarians even have said it) that for unformed readers to read a bad book is better than to read none at all. I do not believe it. You might as well say that it is better for one to swallow poison than not to swallow any thing at all. I hold that library providers are as much bound to furnish wholesome food for the minds of the young who resort to them for guidance, as their parents are to provide wholesome food for their bodies.

But the question returns upon us—what is wholesome food? In the first place, it is that great body of fiction which has borne the test, both of critical judgment, and of popularity with successive generations of readers. It is the novels of Scott, Austen, Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, Cooper, Hawthorne, Kingsley, Mulock-Craik, and many more, such as no parents need blush to put into the hands of their daughters. In the next place, it is such a selection from the myriads of stories that have poured from the press of this generation as have been approved by the best readers, and the critical judgment of a responsible press.

As to books of questionable morality, I am aware that contrary opinions prevail on the question whether any such books should be allowed in a public library, or not. The question is a different one for the small town libraries and for the great reference libraries of the world. The former are really educational institutions, supported at the people's expense, like the free schools, and should be held to a responsibility from which the extensive reference libraries in the city are free. The latter may and ought to preserve every form of literature, and, if national libraries, they would be derelict in their duty to posterity if they did not acquire and preserve the whole literature of the country, and hand it down complete to future generations. The function of the public town library is different. It must indispensably make a selection, since its means are not adequate to buy one-tenth of the annual product of the press, which amounts in only four nations (England, France, Germany, and the United States) to more than thirty-five thousand new volumes a year. Its selection, mainly of American and English books, must be small, and the smaller it is, the greater is the need of care in buying. In fact, it is in most cases, compelled to be a selection from a selection. Therefore, in the many cases of doubt arising as to the fit character of a book, let the doubt be resolved in favor of the fund, thus preserving the chance of getting a better book for the money.

With this careful and limited selection of the best, out of the multitude of novels that swarm from the press, the reading public will have every reason to be satisfied. No excuse can be alleged for filling up our libraries with poor books, while there is no dearth whatever of good ones. It is not the business of a public library to compete with the news stands or the daily press in furnishing the latest short stories for popular consumption; a class of literature whose survival is likely to be quite as short as the stories themselves.

Take an object lesson as to the mischiefs of reading the wretched stuff which some people pretend is "better than no reading at all" from the boy Jesse Pomeroy, who perpetrated a murder of peculiar atrocity in Boston. "Pomeroy confessed that he had always been a great reader of 'blood and thunder' stories, having read probably sixty dime novels, all treating of scalping and deeds of violence. The boy said that he had no doubt that the reading of those books had a great deal to do with his course, and he would advise all boys to leave them alone."

In some libraries, where the pernicious effect of the lower class of fiction has been observed, the directors have withdrawn from circulation a large proportion of the novels, which had been bought by reason of their popularity. In other newly started libraries only fiction of the highest grade has been placed in the library from the start, and this is by far the best course. If readers inquire for inferior or immoral books, and are told that the library does not have them, although they will express surprise and disappointment, they will take other and improving reading, thus fulfilling the true function of the library as an educator. Librarians and library boards cannot be too careful about what constitutes the collection which is to form the pabulum of so many of the rising generation.

This does not imply that they are to be censors, or prudes, but with the vast field of literature before them from which to choose, they are bound to choose the best.

The American Library Association has had this subject under discussion repeatedly, and while much difference of opinion has arisen from the difficulty of finding any absolute standard of excellence, nearly all have agreed that as to certain books, readers should look elsewhere than to the public free library for them. At one time a list of authors was made out, many of whose works were deemed objectionable, either from their highly sensational character, or their bad style, or their highly wrought and morbid pictures of human passions, or their immoral tendency. This list no doubt will surprise many, as including writers whose books everybody, almost, has read, or has been accustomed to think well of. It embraces the following popular authors, many of whose novels have had a wide circulation, and that principally through popular libraries.

Here follow the names:

Mary J. Holmes, Mrs. Henry Wood, C. L. Hentz, M. P. Finley, Mrs. A. S. Stephens, E. D. E. N. Southworth, Mrs. Forrester, Rhoda Broughton, Helen Mathers, Jessie Fothergill, M. E. Braddon, Florence Marryat, Ouida, Horatio Alger, Mayne Reid, Oliver Optic, W. H. S. Kingston, E. Kellogg, G. W. M. Reynolds, C. Fosdick, Edmund Yates, G. A. Lawrence, Grenville Murray, W. H. Ainsworth, Wilkie Collins, E. L. Bulwer-Lytton, W. H. Thomes, and Augusta Evans Wilson.

Bear in mind, that only English and American novels are included, and those only of the present century: also, that as to many which are included, no imputation of immorality was made. Such a "black list" is obviously open to the charge of doing great injustice to the good repute of writers named, since only a part of the works written by some of them can properly be objected to, and these are not specially named. Bulwer-Lytton, for example, whose "Paul Clifford" is a very improper book to go into the hands of young people, has written at least a dozen other fictions of noble moral purpose, and high literary merit.

Out of seventy public libraries to which the list was sent, with inquiry whether the authors named were admitted as books of circulation, thirty libraries replied. All of them admitted Bulwer-Lytton and Wilkie Collins, all but two Oliver Optic's books, and all but six Augusta Evans Wilson's. Reynolds' novels were excluded by twenty libraries, Mrs. Southworth's by eleven, "Ouida's" by nine, and Mrs. Stephens's and Mrs. Henry Wood's by eight. Other details cannot find space for notice here.

This instance is one among many of endeavors constantly being made by associated librarians to stem the ever increasing flood of poor fiction which threatens to submerge the better class of books in our public libraries.

That no such wholesome attempt can be wholly successful is evident enough. The passion for reading fiction is both epidemic and chronic; and in saying this, do not infer that I reckon it as a disease. A librarian has no right to banish fiction because the appetite for it is abused. He is not to set up any ideal and impossible standard of selection. His most useful and beneficent function is to turn into better channels the universal hunger for reading which is entertaining. Do readers want an exciting novel? What can be more exciting than "Les Miserables" of Victor Hugo, a book of exceptional literary excellence and power? Literature is full of fascinating stories, admirably told, and there is no excuse for loading our libraries with trash, going into the slums for models, or feeding young minds upon the unclean brood of pessimistic novels. If it is said that people will have trash, let them buy it, and let the libraries wash their hands of it, and refuse to circulate the stuff which no boy nor girl can touch without being contaminated.

Those who claim that we might as well let the libraries down to the level of the poorest books, because unformed and ignorant minds are capable of nothing better, should be told that people are never raised by giving them nothing to look up to. To devour infinite trash is not the road to learn wisdom, or virtue, or even to attain genuine amusement. To those who are afraid that if the libraries are purified, the masses will get nothing that they can read, the answer is, have they not got the entire world of magazines, the weekly, daily, and Sunday newspapers, which supply a whole library of fiction almost daily? Add to these plenty of imaginative literature in fiction and in poetry, on every library's shelves, which all who can read can comprehend, and what excuse remains for buying what is neither decent nor improving?

Take an example of the boundless capacity for improvement that exists in the human mind and human taste, from the spread of the fine arts among the people. Thirty years ago, their houses, if having any decoration at all, exhibited those fearful and wonderful colored lithographs and chromos in which bad drawing, bad portraiture, and bad coloring vied with each other to produce pictures which it would be a mild use of terms to call detestable. Then came the two great international art expositions at Philadelphia and Chicago, each greatly advancing by the finest models, the standard of taste in art, and by new economies of reproduction placing the most beautiful statues and pictures within the reach of the most moderate purse. What has been the result? An incalculable improvement in the public taste, educated by the diffusion of the best models, until even the poor farmer of the backwoods will no longer tolerate the cheap and nasty horrors that once disfigured his walls.

The lesson in art is good in literature also. Give the common people good models, and there is no danger but they will appreciate and understand them. Never stoop to pander to a depraved taste, no matter what specious pleas you may hear for tolerating the low in order to lead to the high, or for making your library contribute to the survival of the unfittest.

Is it asked, how can the librarian find out, among the world of novels from which he is to select, what is pure and what is not, what is wholesome and what unhealthy, what is improving and what is trash? The answer is—there are some lists which will be most useful in this discrimination, while there is no list which is infallible. Mr. F. Leypoldt's little catalogue of "Books for all Time" has nothing that any library need do without. Another compendious list is published by the American Library Association. And the more extensive catalogue prepared for the World's Fair in 1893, and embracing about 5,000 volumes, entitled "Catalogue of A. L. A. Library: 5,000 vols. for a popular library," while it has many mistakes and omissions, is a tolerably safe guide in making up a popular library. I may note that the list of novels in this large catalogue put forth by the American Library Association has the names of five only out of the twenty-eight writers of fiction heretofore pronounced objectionable, and names a select few only of the books of these five.

As for the later issues of the press, and especially the new novels, let him skim them for himself, unless in cases where trustworthy critical judgments are found in journals. Running through a book to test its style and moral drift is no difficult task for the practiced eye.

Let us suppose that you are cursorily perusing a novel which has made a great sensation, and you come upon the following sentence: "Eighteen millions of years would level all in one huge, common, shapeless ruin. Perish the microcosm in the limitless macrocosm! and sink this feeble earthly segregate in the boundless rushing choral aggregation!" This is in Augusta J. Evans Wilson's story "Macaria", and many equally extraordinary examples of "prose run mad" are found in the novels of this once noted writer. What kind of a model is that to form the style of the youthful neophyte, to whom one book is as good as another, since it was found on the shelves of the public library?

I am not insisting that all books admitted should be models of style; even a purist must admit that one of the greatest charms of literature is its infinite variety. But when book after book is filled with such specimens of literary lunacy as this, one is tempted to believe that Homer and Shakespeare, to say nothing of Thackeray and Hawthorne, have lived in vain.

Never fear criticism of those who find fault with the absence from your library of books that you know to be nearly worthless; their absence will be a silent but eloquent protest against them, sure to be vindicated by the utter oblivion into which they will fall. Many a flaming reputation has been extinguished after dazzling callow admirers for six months, or even less. Do not dread the empty sarcasm, that may grow out of the exclusion of freshly printed trash, that your library is a "back number." To some poor souls every thing that is great and good in the world's literature is a "back number"; and the Bible itself, with its immortal poetry and sublimity, is the oldest back number of all. It is no part of your business as a librarian to cater to the tastes of those who act as if the reading of endless novels of sensation were the chief end of man. As one fed on highly spiced viands and stimulating drinks surely loses the appetite for wholesome and nourishing food, so one who reads only exciting and highly wrought fictions loses the taste for the master-pieces of prose and poetry.

Let not the fear of making many mistakes be a bug-bear in your path. If you are told that your library is too exclusive, reply that it has not means enough to buy all the good books that are wanted, and cannot afford to spend money on bad or even on doubtful ones. If you have excluded any highly-sought-for book on insufficient evidence, never fail to revise the judgment. All that can be expected of any library is approximately just and wise selection, having regard to merit, interest, and moral tone, more than to novelty or popularity.

In the matter of choice, individual opinions are of small value. Never buy a book simply because some reader extols it as very fine, or "splendid," or "perfectly lovely." Such praises are commonly to be distrusted in direct proportion to their extravagance.

A good lesson to libraries is furnished in the experience of the Cleveland (Ohio) Public Library. In 1878, out of 16,000 volumes in that library, no less than 6,000 were novels. The governing board, on the plea of giving people what they wanted, bought nearly all new books of fiction, and went so far, even, as to buy of Pinkerton's Detective stories, fifteen copies each, fifteen of all Mrs. Southworth's novels, etc. But a change took place in the board, and the librarian was permitted to stop the growing flood of worthless fiction, and as fast as the books were worn out, they were replaced by useful reading. It resulted that four years later, with 40,000 volumes in the library, only 7,000 were novels, or less than one-fifth, instead of more than one-third of the whole collection, as formerly. In the same time, the percentage of fiction drawn out was reduced from 69 per cent. of the aggregate books read, to 50 per cent.

Libraries are always complaining that they cannot buy many valuable books from lack of funds. Yet some of them buy a great many that are valueless in spite of this lack. Can any thing be conceived more valueless than a set of Sylvanus Cobb's novels, reprinted to the number of thirty-five to forty, from the New York Ledger? Yet these have been bought for scores of libraries, which could not afford the latest books in science and art, or biography, history, or travel. There are libraries in which the latest books on electricity, or sewerage, or sanitary plumbing, might have saved many lives, but which must go without them, because the money has been squandered on vapid and pernicious literature.

In almost every library, while some branches of knowledge are fairly represented, others are not represented at all. Nearly all present glaring deficiencies, and these are often caused by want of systematic plan in building up the collection. Boards of managers are frequently changed, and the policy of the library with them. All the more important is it that the librarian should be so well equipped with a definite aim, and with knowledge and skill competent to urge that aim consistently, as to preserve some unity of plan.

I need not add that a librarian should be always wide awake to the needs of his library in every direction. It should be taken for granted that its general aim is to include the best books in the whole range of human knowledge. With the vast area of book production before him, he should strengthen every year some department, taking them in order of importance.

Some scholarly writers tell us that very few books are essential to a good education. James Russell Lowell named five, which in his view embraced all the essentials; namely, Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Cervantes, and Goethe's Faust. Prof. Charles E. Norton of Harvard remarked that this list might even be abridged so as to embrace only Homer, Dante and Shakespeare. I can only regard such exclusiveness as misleading, though conceding the many-sidedness of these great writers. To extend the list is the function of all public libraries, as well as of most of the private ones. Next after the really essential books, that library will be doing its public good service which acquires all the important works that record the history of man. This will include biography, travels and voyages, science, and much besides, as well as history.

Special pains should be taken in every library to have every thing produced in its own town, county, and State. Not only books, but all pamphlets, periodicals, newspapers, and even broadsides or circulars, should be sought for and stored up as memorials of the present age, tending in large part rapidly to disappear.

In selecting editions of standard authors, one should always discriminate, so as to secure for the library, if not the best, at least good, clear type, sound, thick paper, and durable binding. Cheap and poor editions wear out quickly, and have to be thrown away for better ones, which wise economy should have selected in the first place. For example, a widely circulated edition of Scott's novels, found in most libraries, has the type so worn and battered by the many large editions printed from the plates, that many letters and words are wanting, thus spoiling not only the pleasure but abridging the profit of the reader in perusing the novels. The same is true of one edition of Cooper. Then there are many cheap reprints of English novels in the Seaside and other libraries which abound in typographical errors. A close examination of a cheap edition of a leading English novelist's works revealed more than 3,000 typographical errors in the one set of books! It would be unpardonable carelessness to buy such books for general reading because they are cheap.

Librarians should avoid what are known as subscription books, as a rule, though some valid exceptions exist. Most of such books are profusely illustrated and in gaudy bindings, gotten up to dazzle the eye. If works of merit, it is better to wait for them, than to subscribe for an unfinished work, which perhaps may never reach completion.

A librarian or book collector should be ever observant of what he may find to enrich his collection. When in a book-store, or a private or public library, he should make notes of such works seen as are new to him, with any characteristics which their custodian may remark upon. Such personal examination is more informing than any catalogue.

I think each public library should possess, besides a complete set of the English translations of the Greek and Latin classics, a full set of the originals, for the benefit of scholarly readers. These classic texts can be had complete in modern editions for a very moderate price.

How far duplicate volumes should be bought should depend upon demand, and the views of the purchasing powers. There is a real need of more than one copy of almost every standard work, else it will be perpetually out, giving occasion for numerous complaints from those who use the library. It would be a good rule to keep one copy always in, and at the service of readers, of every leading history, standard poet, or popular novel. Then the duplicate copies for circulation may be one or more, as experience and ability to provide may determine. A library which caters to the novel-reading habit as extensively as the New York Mercantile (a subscription library) has to buy fifty to one hundred copies of "Trilby," for example, to keep up with the demand. No such obligation exists for the free public libraries. They, however, often buy half a dozen to a dozen copies of a very popular story, when new, and sell them out after the demand has slackened or died away.

The methods of selection and purchase in public libraries are very various. In the Worcester (Mass.) Public Library, the librarian makes a list of desiderata, has it manifolded, and sends a copy to each of the thirteen members of the Board of directors. This list is reported on by the members at the next monthly meeting of the Board, and generally, in the main, approved. Novels and stories are not bought until time has shown of what value they may be. The aim is mainly educational at the Worcester library, very special pains being taken to aid all the pupils and teachers in the public schools, by careful selection, and providing duplicate or more copies of important works.

In the Public Library of Cleveland, Ohio, there is appointed out of the governing Board a book-committee of three. To one of these are referred English books wanted, to another French, and to the third German books. This sub-committee approves or amends the Librarian's recommendations, at its discretion; but expensive works are referred to the whole board for determination.

In the New York Mercantile Library, which must keep continually up to date in its supply of new books, the announcements in all the morning papers are daily scanned, and books just out secured by immediate order. Many publishers send in books on approval, which are frequently bought. An agent in London is required to send on the day of publication all new books on certain subjects.

The library boards of management meet weekly in New York and Philadelphia, but monthly in most country libraries. The selection of books made by committees introduces often an element of chance, not quite favorable to the unity of plan in developing the resources of the library. But with a librarian of large information, discretion, and skill, there need seldom be any difficulty in securing approval of his selections, or of most of them. In some libraries the librarian is authorized to buy at discretion additions of books in certain lines, to be reported at the next meeting of the board; and to fill up all deficiencies in periodicals that are taken. This is an important concession to his judgment, made in the interest of completeness in the library, saving a delay of days and sometimes weeks in waiting for the board of directors.

All orders sent out for accessions should previously be compared with the alphabeted order-card list, as well as with the general catalogue of the library, to avoid duplication. After this the titles are to be incorporated in the alphabet of all outstanding orders, to be withdrawn only on receipt of the books.

The library should invite suggestions from all frequenting it, of books recommended and not found in the collection. A blank record-book for this purpose, or an equivalent in order-cards, should be always kept on the counter of the library.

CHAPTER 2.

Book Buying.

The buying of books is to some men a pastime; to others it is a passion; but to the librarian and the intelligent book collector it is both a business and a pleasure. The man who is endowed with a zeal for knowledge is eager to be continually adding to the stores which will enable him to acquire and to dispense that knowledge. Hence the perusal of catalogues is to him an ever fresh and fascinating pursuit. However hampered he may be by the lack of funds, the zest of being continually in quest of some coveted volumes gives him an interest in every sale catalogue, whether of bookseller or of auctioneer. He is led on by the perennial hope that he may find one or more of the long-wished for and waited-for desiderata in the thin pamphlet whose solid columns bristle with book-titles in every variety of abbreviation and arrangement. It is a good plan, if one can possibly command the time, to read every catalogue of the book auctions, and of the second-hand book dealers, which comes to hand. You will thus find a world of books chronicled and offered which you do not want, because you have got them already: you will find many, also, which you want, but which you know you cannot have; and you may find some of the very volumes which you have sought through many years in vain. In any case, you will have acquired valuable information—whether you acquire any books or not; since there is hardly a priced catalogue, of any considerable extent, from which you cannot reap knowledge of some kind—knowledge of editions, knowledge of prices, and knowledge of the comparative scarcity or full supply of many books, with a glimpse of titles which you may never have met before. The value of the study of catalogues as an education in bibliography can never be over-estimated.

The large number of active and discriminating book-buyers from America has for years past awakened the interest and jealousy of collectors abroad, where it has very largely enhanced the price of all first-class editions, and rare works.

No longer, as in the early days of Dibdin and Heber, is the competition for the curiosities of old English literature confined to a half-score of native amateurs. True, we have no such omnivorous gatherers of literary rubbish as that magnificent helluo librorum, Richard Heber, who amassed what was claimed to be the largest collection of books ever formed by a single individual. Endowed with a princely fortune, and an undying passion for the possession of books, he spent nearly a million dollars in their acquisition. His library, variously stated at from 105,000 volumes (by Dr. Dibdin) to 146,000 volumes (by Dr. Allibone) was brought to the hammer in 1834. The catalogue filled 13 octavo volumes, and the sale occupied 216 days. The insatiable owner (who was a brother of Reginald Heber, Bishop of Calcutta) died while still collecting, at the age of sixty, leaving his enormous library, which no single house of ordinary size could hold, scattered in half a dozen mansions in London, Oxford, Paris, Antwerp, Brussels and Ghent.

Yet the owner of this vast mass of mingled nonsense and erudition, this library of the curiosities of literature, was as generous in imparting as in acquiring his literary treasures. No English scholar but was freely welcome to the loan of his volumes; and his own taste and critical knowledge are said to have been of the first order.

From this, probably the most extensive private library ever gathered, let us turn to the largest single purchase, in number of volumes, made at one time for a public library. When Dr. J. G. Cogswell went abroad in 1848, to lay the foundations of the Astor Library, he took with him credentials for the expenditure of $100,000; and, what was of even greater importance, a thoroughly digested catalogue of desiderata, embracing the most important books in every department of literature and science. No such opportunity of buying the finest books at the lowest prices is likely ever to occur again, as the fortuitous concourse of events brought to Dr. Cogswell. It was the year of revolutions—the year when the thrones were tottering or falling all over Europe, when the wealthy and privileged classes were trembling for their possessions, and anxious to turn them into ready money. In every time of panic, political or financial, the prices of books, as well as of all articles of luxury, are the first to fall. Many of the choicest collections came to the hammer; multitudes were eager to sell—but there were few buyers except the book merchants, who were all ready to sell again. The result was that some 80,000 volumes were gathered for the Astor Library, embracing a very large share of the best editions and the most expensive works, with many books strictly denominated rare, and nearly all bound in superior style, at an average cost of about $1.40 per volume. This extraordinary good fortune enabled the Astor Library to be opened on a very small endowment, more splendidly equipped for a library of reference than any new institution could be today with four or five times the money.

Compared with such opportunities as these, you may consider the experiences of the little libraries, and the narrow means of recruitment generally found, as very literally the day of small things. But a wise apportionment of small funds, combined with a good knowledge of the commercial value of books, and perpetual vigilance in using opportunities, will go very far toward enlarging any collection in the most desirable directions.

Compare for a moment with the results stated of the Astor Library's early purchases, the average prices paid by British Libraries for books purchased from 1826 to 1854, as published in a parliamentary return. The average cost per volume varied from 16s or about $4 a volume, for the University Library of Edinburgh, to 4s 6d, or $1.10 a volume for the Manchester Free Library. The latter, however, were chiefly popular new books, published at low prices, while the former included many costly old works, law books, etc. The British Museum Library's average was 8s 5d or about $2.00 per volume. Those figures represent cloth binding, while the Astor's purchases were mostly in permanent leather bindings.

Averages are very uncertain standards of comparison, as a single book rarity often costs more than a hundred volumes of the new books of the day; but in a library filled with the best editions of classical and scientific works, and reference books, I presume that two dollars a volume is not too high an estimate of average cost, in these days represented by the last twenty years. For a circulating library, on the other hand, composed chiefly of what the public most seek to read, half that average would perhaps express the full commercial value of the collection. Of its intrinsic value I will not here pause to speak.

There are many methods of book buying, of which we may indicate the principal as follows:

• 1. By direct orders from book dealers.
• 2. By competition on select lists of wants.
• 3. By order from priced catalogues.
• 4. By purchase at auction sales.
• 5. By personal research among book stocks.
• 6. By lists and samples of books sent on approval.

Each of these methods has its advantages—and, I may add, its disadvantages likewise. The collector who combines them, as opportunity presents, is most likely to make his funds go the farthest, and to enrich his collection the most. Direct orders for purchase are necessary for most new books wanted, except in the case of the one government library, which in most countries, receives them under copyright provision. An advantageous arrangement can usually be made with one or more book-dealers, to supply all new books at a fairly liberal discount from retail prices. And it is wise management to distribute purchases where good terms are made, as thereby the trade will feel an interest in the library, and a mutuality of interest will secure more opportunities and better bargains.

The submission of lists of books wanted, to houses having large stocks or good facilities, helps to make funds go as far as possible through competition. By the typewriter such lists can now be manifolded much more cheaply than they can be written or printed.

Selection from priced catalogues presents a constantly recurring opportunity of buying volumes of the greatest consequence, to fill gaps in any collection, and often at surprisingly low prices. Much as book values have been enhanced of late years, there are yet catalogues issued by American, English and continental dealers which quote books both of the standard and secondary class at very cheap rates. Even now English books are sold by the Mudie and the W. H. Smith lending libraries in London, after a very few months, at one-half to one-fourth their original publishing price. These must usually be rebound, but by instructing your agent to select copies which are clean within, all the soil of the edges will disappear with the light trimming of the binder.

Purchase at auction supplies a means of recruiting libraries both public and private with many rare works, and with the best editions of the standard authors, often finely bound. The choice private libraries of the country, as well as the poor ones, tend to pour themselves sooner or later into public auctions. The collectors of books, whose early avidity to amass libraries of fine editions was phenomenal, rarely persist in cultivating the passion through life. Sometimes they are overtaken by misfortune—sometimes by indifference—the bibliomania not being a perennial inspiration, but often an acute and fiery attack, which in a few years burns out. Even if the library gathered with so much money and pains descends to the heirs of the collector, the passion for books is very seldom an inherited one. Thus the public libraries are constantly recruited by the opportunities of selection furnished by the forced sale of the private ones. Here, public competition frequently runs up the price of certain books to an exorbitant degree, while those not wanted often sell for the merest trifle. One should have a pretty clear idea of the approximate commercial value of books, before competing for them at public sale. He may, however, if well persuaded in his own mind as to the importance or the relative unimportance to his own collection of any work, regulate his bids by that standard, regardless of commercial value, except as a limit beyond which he will not go. Few librarians can personally attend auction sales—nor is it needful, when limits can so easily be set to orders. It is never safe to send an unlimited bid, as there may be others without limit, in which case the book is commonly awarded to the most remote bidder.

There are many curiosities of the auction room, one of them being the frequent re-appearance of book rarities which have been through several auctions, sometimes at intervals of years, keenly competed for by rival bibliophiles, and carried off in triumph by some ardent collector, who little thought at the time how soon his own collection would come to the hammer.

There are also many curiosities of compilation in auction catalogues. Not to name errors of commission, like giving the authorship of books to the wrong name, and errors of omission, like giving no author's name at all, some catalogues are thickly strewn with the epithets rare—and very rare, when the books are sufficiently common in one or the other market. Do not be misled by these surface indications. Books are often attributed in catalogues to their editor or translator, and the unwary buyer may thus find himself saddled with a duplicate already in his own collection. There has been much improvement in late years in the care with which auction catalogues are edited, and no important collection at least is offered, without having first passed through the hands of an expert, familiar with bibliography. It is the minor book sales where the catalogues receive no careful editing, and where the dates and editions are frequently omitted, that it is necessary to guard against. It is well to refrain from sending any bids out of such lists, because they furnish no certain identification of the books, and if all would do the same, thus diminishing the competition and the profit of the auctioneer, he might learn never to print a catalogue without date, place of publication, and full name of author of every book offered.

Never be too eager to acquire an auction book, unless you are very thoroughly assured that it is one of the kind truly designated rarissimus. An eminent and thoroughly informed book collector, with an experience of forty years devoted to book auctions and book catalogues, assured me that it was his experience that almost every book would turn up on the average about every seven years. Of course there are notable exceptions—and especially among the class of books known as incunabula, (or cradle-books printed in the infancy of printing) and of early Americana: but it is not these which the majority of libraries are most in search of. Remember always, if you lose a coveted volume, that there will be another chance—perhaps many of them. The private collector, who carries it off against you, has had no former opportunity to get the rare volume, and may never have another. He is therefore justified in paying what is to ordinary judgment an extraordinary price. Individual collectors die, but public libraries are immortal.

If you become thoroughly conversant with priced catalogues, you will make fewer mistakes than most private buyers. Not only catalogues of notable collections, with the prices obtained at auction, but the large and very copious catalogues of such London book-dealers as Quaritch and Sotheran, are accessible in the great city libraries. These are of the highest use in suggesting the proximate prices at which important books have been or may be acquired. Since 1895, annual volumes entitled "American Book Prices Current" have been issued, giving the figures at which books have been sold at all the principal auction sales of the year.

There is no word so much abused as the term rare, when applied to books. Librarians know well the unsophisticated citizen who wants to sell at a high price a "rare" volume of divinity "a hundred and fifty years old" (worth possibly twenty-five cents to half a dollar,) and the persistent woman who has the rarest old bible in the country, which she values anywhere from fifty to five hundred dollars, and which turns out on inspection to be an imperfect copy of one of Barker's multitudinous editions of 1612 to '18, which may be picked up at five to eight shillings in any old London book-shop. The confident assertions so often paraded, even in catalogues, "only three copies known," and the like, are to be received with absolute incredulity, and the claims of ignorant owners of books who fancy that their little pet goose is a fine swan, because they never saw another, are as ridiculous as the laudation bestowed by a sapient collector upon two of his most valued nuggets. "This, sir, is unique, but not so unique as the other."

Buying books by actual inspection at the book-shops is even more fascinating employment than buying them through catalogues. You thus come upon the most unexpected volumes unawares. You open the covers, scan the title-pages, get a glimpse of the plates, and flit from book to book, like a bee gathering honey for its hive. It is a good way to recruit your library economically, to run through the stock of a book-dealer systematically—neglecting no shelf, but selecting throughout the whole stock, and laying aside what you think you may want. When this is done, you will have quite a pile of literature upon which to negotiate with the proprietor. It is cheaper to buy thus at wholesale than by piecemeal, because the bookseller will make you a larger discount on a round lot of which you relieve his shelves.

Another method of recruiting your library is the examination of books "on approval." Most book-dealers will be so obliging as to send in parcels of books for the inspection of a librarian or collector, who can thus examine them leisurely and with more thoroughness than in a book store, without leaving his business.

All books, by whatever course they may be purchased, are indispensably to be collated before they are accepted and paid for. Neglect of this will fill any library with imperfections, since second-hand books are liable to have missing leaves, or plates, or maps, while new books may lack signatures or plates, or be wrongly bound together. In the case of new books, or books still in print, the publisher is bound to make good an imperfection.

In old books, this is usually impossible, and the only remedy is to return the imperfect books upon the seller's hands, unless there may be a reason, such as the rarity of the volume, or its comparative little cost, or the trifling nature of the imperfection, for retaining it. The equities in these cases are in favor of the buyer, who is presumed to have purchased a perfect copy. But the right of reclamation must be exercised promptly, or it may be forfeited by lapse of time. If an imperfection in any book you order is noted in the catalogue, it is not subject to return. I have ever found the book auctioneers most courteous and considerate in their dealings—and the same can be said of the book trade generally, among whom instances of liberality to libraries are by no means rare.

One of the choicest pleasures of the book collector, whether private student or librarian, is to visit the second-hand book-shops of any city, and examine the stock with care. While he may find but few notable treasures in one collection, a search through several shops will be almost sure to reward him. Here are found many of the outpourings of the private libraries, formed by specialists or amateurs, and either purchased by the second-hand dealer en bloc, or bid off by him at some auction sale. Even rare books are picked up in this way, no copies of which can be had by order, because long since "out of print." The stock in these shops is constantly changing, thus adding a piquant and sometimes exciting element to the book-hunter, who is wise in proportion as he seizes quickly upon all opportunities of new "finds" by frequent visits. To mourn over a lost chance in rare books is often more grievous to the zealous collector, than to lose a large share out of his fortune; while to exult over a literary nugget long sought and at length found is a pleasure to which few others can be compared.

Of the many bouquinistes whose open-air shops line the quays of Paris along the Seine, numbering once as many as a hundred and fifty dealers in second-hand books, I have no room to treat; books have been written about them, and the littérateurs of France, of Europe, and of America have profited by countless bargains in their learned wares. Nor can I dwell upon the literary wealth of London book-shops, dark and dingy, but ever attractive to the hungry scholar, or the devotee of bibliomania.

Of the many second-hand booksellers (or rather sellers of second-hand books) in American cities, the more notable have passed from the stage of action in the last quarter of a century. Old William Gowans, a quaint, intelligent Scotchman, in shabby clothes and a strong face deeply marked with small pox, was for many years the dean of this fraternity in New York. His extensive book-shop in Nassau street, with its dark cellar, was crowded and packed with books on shelves, on stairways and on the floors, heaped and piled in enormous masses, amid which the visitor could hardly find room to move. On one of the piles you might find the proprietor seated—

Books to the right of him,
Books to the left of him,
Books behind him,
Volleyed and tumbled,

while he answered inquiries for books from clergymen and students, or gruffly bargained with a boy or an old woman for a dilapidated lot of old books. He had a curious quizzical way with strangers, who at once set him down as an oddity, and his impatience with ignoramuses and bores gave him the repute of crustiness, which was redeemed by suavity enough whenever he met with people of intelligence.

Gowans issued scores of catalogues of his stock, in which titles were often illustrated by notes, always curious and often amusing, credited to "Western Memorabilia," a work which no bookseller or man of letters had ever heard of, but which was shrewdly suspected to have been a projected scrap-book of the observations and opinions of William Gowans.

There was another eccentric book-dealer's shop in Nassau street kept by one John Doyle, who aimed so high in his profession as to post over his door a sign reading "The Moral Centre of the Intellectual Universe." This establishment was notably full of old editions of books of English history and controversial theology.

The most famous second-hand book-shop in Boston was Burnham's, whose fore-name was Thomas Oliver Hazard Perry, shortened into "Perry Burnham" by his familiars. He was a little, pale-faced, wiry, nervous man, with piercing black eyes and very brusque manners. In old and musty books he lived and moved and had his being, for more than a generation. He exchanged a stuffy, narrow shop in Cornhill for more spacious quarters in Washington street, near School street, where he bought and sold books with an assiduous devotion to business, never trusting to others what he could do himself. He was proud of his collection and its extent. He bought books and pamphlets at auction literally by the cart-load, every thing that nobody else wanted being bid off to Burnham at an insignificant price, almost nominal. He got a wide reputation for selling cheaply, but he always knew when to charge a stiff price for a book, and to stick to it. Once when I was pricing a lot of miscellaneous books picked out for purchase, mostly under a dollar a volume, we came to a copy of "The Constitutions of the Several Independent States of America," 1st edition, Philadelphia, 1781, of which two hundred copies only were printed, by order of Congress. This copy was in the original boards, uncut, and with the autograph of Timothy Pickering on the title page. "If the Congress Library wants that book," said Mr. Burnham, "it will have to pay eight dollars for it." I took it, well pleased to secure what years of search had failed to bring. The next year my satisfaction was enhanced when an inferior copy of the same book was offered at twenty dollars.

Burnham died a wealthy man, having amassed a million dollars in trade and by rise in real estate, as he owned the land on which the Parker House stands in Boston.

Among Philadelphia dealers in second-hand books, one John Penington was recognized as most intelligent and honorable. He was a book-lover and a scholar, and one instinctively ranked him not as a bookseller, but as a gentleman who dealt in books. On his shelves one always found books of science and volumes in foreign languages.

Another notable dealer was John Campbell, a jolly, hearty Irish-American, with a taste for good books, and an antipathy to negroes, as keen as the proverbial hatred of the devil for holy water. Campbell wrote a book entitled "Negromania," published in 1851, in which his creed was set forth in strong language. He was a regular bidder at book auctions, where his burly form and loud voice made him a prominent figure.

Of notable auction sales of books, and of the extravagant prices obtained for certain editions by ambitious and eager competition, there is little room to treat. The oft-told story of the Valdarfer Boccaccio of 1471, carried off at the Roxburghe sale in 1812, at £2,260 from Earl Spencer by the Marquis of Blandford, and re-purchased seven years after at another auction for £918, has been far surpassed in modern bibliomania. "The sound of that hammer," wrote the melodramatic Dibdin, "echoed through Europe:" but what would he have said of the Mazarin Bible of Gutenberg and Fust (1450-55) sold in 1897, at the Ashburnham sale, for four thousand pounds, or of the Latin Psalter of Fust and Schoeffer, 2d ed. 1459, which brought £4,950 at the Syston Park sale in 1884? This last sum (about twenty-four thousand dollars) is the largest price ever yet recorded as received for a single volume. Among books of less rarity, though always eagerly sought, is the first folio Shakespeare of 1623, a very fine and perfect copy of which brought £716.2 at Daniel's sale in 1864. Copies warranted perfect have since been sold in London for £415 to £470. In New York, a perfect but not "tall" copy brought $4,200 in 1891 at auction. Walton's "Compleat Angler," London, 1st ed. 1653, a little book of only 250 pages, sold for £310 in 1891. It was published for one shilling and sixpence. The first edition of Robinson Crusoe brought £75 at the Crampton sale in 1896.

The rage for first editions of very modern books reached what might be called high-water mark some time since, and has been on the decline. Shelley's "Queen Mab," 1st ed. 1813, was sold at London for £22.10, and his "Refutation of Deism," 1814, was sold at £33, at a London sale in 1887. In New York, many first editions of Shelley's poems brought the following enormous prices in 1897.

• Shelley's Adonais, 1st ed. Pisa, Italy, 1821, $335.
• Alastor, London, 1816, $130.
• The Cenci, Italy, 1819, $65.
• Hellas, London, 1822, $13.

But these were purely adventitious prices, as was clearly shown in the sale at the same auction rooms, a year or two earlier, of the following:

• Shelley's Adonais, 1st ed. Pisa, 1821, $19.
• Alastor, London, 1816, $32.
• The Cenci, Italy, 1819, $21.
• Hellas, London, 1822, $2.

The sales occasionally made at auction of certain books at extraordinary prices, prove nothing whatever as to the real market value, for these reasons: (1) The auctioneer often has an unlimited bid, and the price is carried up to an inordinate height. (2) Two or more bidders present, infatuated by the idea of extreme rarity, bid against one another until all but one succumb, when the price has reached a figure which it is a mild use of terms to call absurd. (3) Descriptions in sale catalogues, though often entirely unfounded, characterising a book as "excessively rare;" "only — copies known," "very scarce," "never before offered at our sales," etc., may carry the bidding on a book up to an unheard-of price.

The appeal always lies to the years against the hours; and many a poor book-mad enthusiast has had to rue his too easy credulity in giving an extravagant sum for books which he discovers later that he could have bought for as many shillings as he has paid dollars. Not that the rarissimi of early printed books can ever be purchased for a trifle; but it should ever be remembered that even at the sales where a few—a very few—bring the enormous prices that are bruited abroad, the mass of the books offered are knocked down at very moderate figures, or are even sacrificed at rates very far below their cost. The possessor of one of the books so advertised as sold at some auction for a hundred dollars or upwards, if he expects to realise a tithe of the figure quoted, will speedily find himself in the vocative.

While there are almost priceless rarities not to be found in the market by any buyer, let the book collector be consoled by the knowledge that good books, in good editions, were never so easy to come by as now. A fine library can be gathered by any one with very moderate means, supplemented by a fair amount of sagacity and common sense. The buyer with a carefully digested list of books wanted will find that to buy them wisely takes more time and less money than he had anticipated. The time is required to acquaint himself with the many competing editions, with their respective merits and demerits. This involves a comparison of type, paper, and binding, as well as the comparative prices of various dealers for the same books. No one who is himself gifted with good perceptions and good taste, should trust to other hands the selection of his library. His enjoyment of it will be proportioned to the extent to which it is his own creation. The passion for nobly written books, handsomely printed, and clothed in a fitting garb, when it has once dawned, is not to be defrauded of its satisfaction by hiring a commission merchant to appease it. What we do for ourselves, in the acquirement of any knowledge, is apt to be well done: what is done for us by others is of little value.

We have heard of some uninformed parvenus, grown suddenly rich, who have first ordered a magnificent library room fitted with rose-wood, marble and gilded trappings, and then ordered it to be filled with splendidly bound volumes at so much per volume. And it is an authentic fact, that a bookseller to the Czar of Russia one Klostermann, actually sold books at fifty to one hundred roubles by the yard, according to the binding. The force of folly could no farther go, to debase the aims and degrade the intellect of man.

In the chapter upon rare books, the reader will find instances in great variety of the causes that contribute to the scarcity and enhancement of prices of certain books, without at all affecting their intrinsic value, which may be of the smallest.

CHAPTER 3.

The Art of Book Binding.

In these suggestions upon the important question of the binding of books, I shall have nothing to say of the history of the art, and very little of its aesthetics. The plainest and most practical hints will be aimed at, and if my experience shall prove of value to any, I shall be well rewarded for giving it here. For other matters readers will naturally consult some of the numerous manuals of book-binding in English, French and German. The sumptuous bindings executed in the sixteenth century, under the patronage and the eyes of Grolier, the famous tooled masterpieces of Derome, Le Gascon, Padeloup, Trautz and other French artists, and the beautiful gems of the binder's art from the hands of Roger Payne, Lewis, Mackenzie, Hayday and Bedford, are they not celebrated in the pages of Dibdin, Lacroix, Fournier, Wheatley, and Robert Hoe?

There are some professed lovers of books who affect either indifference or contempt for the style in which their favorites are dressed. A well known epigram of Burns is sometimes quoted against the fondness for fine bindings which widely prevails in the present day, as it did in that of the Scottish Poet. A certain Scottish nobleman, endowed with more wealth than brains, was vain of his splendidly bound Shakespeare, which, however, he never read. Burns, on opening the folio, found the leaves sadly worm-eaten, and wrote these lines on the fly-leaf:

"Through and through th' inspired leaves,
Ye maggots make your windings;
But O respect his lordship's taste,
And spare the golden bindings!"

Yet no real book-lover fails to appreciate the neatness and beauty of a tasteful binding, any more than he is indifferent to the same qualities in literary style. Slovenly binding is almost as offensive to a cultivated eye as slovenly composition. No doubt both are "mere externals," as we are told, and so are the splendors of scenery, the beauty of flowers, and the comeliness of the human form, or features, or costume. Talk as men will of the insignificance of dress, it constitutes a large share of the attractiveness of the world in which we live.

The two prime requisites of good binding for libraries are neatness and solidity. It is pleasant to note the steady improvement in American bindings of late years. As the old style of "Half cloth boards," of half a century ago, with paper titles pasted on the backs, has given way to the neat, embossed, full muslin gilt, so the clumsy and homely sheep-skin binding has been supplanted by the half-roan or morocco, with marble or muslin sides. Few books are issued, however, either here or abroad, in what may be called permanent bindings. The cheapness demanded by buyers of popular books forbids this, while it leaves to the taste and fancy of every one the selection of the "library style" in which he will have his collection permanently dressed.

What is the best style of binding for a select or a public library? is a question often discussed, with wide discrepancies of opinion. The so universally prevalent cloth binding is too flimsy for books subjected to much use—as most volumes in public collections and many in private libraries are likely to be. The choice of the more substantial bindings lies between calf and morocco, and between half or full bindings of either. For nearly all books, half binding, if well executed, and with cloth sides, is quite as elegant, and very nearly as solid and lasting as full leather; for if a book is so worn as to need rebinding, it is generally in a part where the full binding wears out quite as fast as the other. That is, it gets worn at the hinges and on the back, whether full or half-bound. The exceptions are the heavy dictionaries, encyclopaedias, and other works of reference, which are subjected to much wear and tear at the sides, as well as at the back and corners. Full leather is much more expensive than half binding, though not doubly so.

Every librarian or book collector should understand something of book-binding and its terms, so that he may be able to give clear directions as to every item involved in binding, repairing, or re-lettering, and to detect imperfect or slighted work.

The qualities that we always expect to find in a well-bound book are solidity, flexibility, and elegance. Special examination should be directed toward each of these points in revising any lot of books returned from a binder. Look at each book with regard to:—

• 1. Flexibility in opening.
• 2. Evenness of the cover, which should lie flat and smooth—each edge being just parallel with the others throughout.
• 3. Compactness—see that the volumes are thoroughly pressed—solid, and not loose or spongy.
• 4. Correct and even lettering of titles, and other tooling.
• 5. Good wide margins.

A well-bound book always opens out flat, and stays open. It also shuts up completely, and when closed stays shut. But how many books do we see always bulging open at the sides, or stiffly resisting being opened by too great tightness in the back? If the books you have had bound do not meet all these requirements, it is time to look for another binder.

The different styles of dressing books may all be summed up in the following materials: Boards, cloth, vellum, sheep, bock, pig-skin, calf, Russia, and morocco—to which may be added of recent years, buckram, duck, linoleum, and the imitations of leather, such as leatherette and morocco paper, and of parchment. I take no account here of obsolete styles—as ivory, wood, brass, silver and other metals, nor of velvet, satin, and other occasional luxuries of the binder's art. These belong to the domain of the amateur, the antiquary, or the book-fancier—not to that of the librarian or the ordinary book-collector.

Roan leather is nothing but sheep-skin, stained or colored; basil or basan is sheepskin tanned in bark, while roan is tanned in sumac, and most of the so called moroccos are also sheep, ingeniously grained by a mechanical process. As all the manufactures in the world are full of "shoddy," or sham materials, the bookbinder's art affords no exception. But if the librarian or collector patronises shams, he should at least do it with his eyes open, and with due counting of the cost.

Now as to the relative merits and demerits of materials for binding. No one will choose boards covered with paper for any book which is to be subjected to perusal, and cloth is too flimsy and shaky in its attachment to the book, however cheap, for any library volumes which are to be constantly in use. It is true that since the bulk of the new books coming into any library are bound in cloth, they may be safely left in it until well worn; and by this rule, all the books which nobody ever reads may be expected to last many years, if not for generations. Cloth is a very durable material, and will outlast some of the leathers, but any wetting destroys its beauty, and all colors but the darkest soon become soiled and repulsive, if in constant use. In most libraries, I hold that every cloth-bound book which is read, must sooner or later come to have a stout leather jacket. It may go for years, especially if the book is well sewed, but to rebinding it must come at last; and the larger the volume, the sooner it becomes shaky, or broken at some weak spot.

The many beautiful new forms of cloth binding should have a word of praise, but the many more which we see of gaudy, fantastic, and meretricious bindings, and frightful combinations of colors must be viewed with a shudder.

Vellum, formerly much used for book-bindings, is the modern name for parchment. Parchment was the only known writing material up to the 12th century, when paper was first invented. There are two kinds—animal and vegetable. The vegetable is made from cotton fibre or paper, by dipping it in a solution of sulphuric acid and [sometimes] gelatine, then removing the acid by a weak solution of ammonia, and smooth finishing by rolling the sheets over a heated cylinder. Vegetable parchment is used to bind many booklets which it is desired to dress in an elegant or dainty style, but is highly unsuitable for library books. Vellum proper is a much thicker material, made from the skins of calves, sheep, or lambs, soaked in lime-water, and smoothed and hardened by burnishing with a hard instrument, or pumice-stone. The common vellum is made from sheep-skin splits, or skivers, but the best from whole calf-skins. The hard, strong texture of vellum is in its favor, but its white color and tendency to warp are fatal objections to it as a binding material.

Vellum is wholly unfit for the shelves of a library; the elegant white binding soils with dust, or the use of the hands, more quickly than any other; and the vellum warps in a dry climate, or curls up in a heated room, so as to be unmanageable upon the shelves, and a nuisance in the eyes of librarian and reader alike. The thin vegetable parchment lately in vogue for some books and booklets is too unsubstantial for anything but a lady's boudoir, where it may have its little day—"a thing of beauty," but by no means "a joy forever."

Sheepskin—once the full binding for most school-books, and for a large share of law and miscellaneous works for libraries, is now but little used, except in its disguised forms. It is too soft a leather for hard wear and tear, and what with abrasion and breaking at the hinges (termed by binders the joints), it will give little satisfaction in the long run. Under the effect of gas and heated atmospheres sheep crumbles and turns to powder. Its cheapness is about its only merit, and even this is doubtful economy, since no binding can be called cheap that has to be rebound or repaired every few years. In the form of half-roan or bock, colored sheep presents a handsome appearance on the shelf, and in volumes or sets which are reasonably secure from frequent handling, one is sometimes justified in adopting it, as it is far less expensive than morocco. Pig-skin has been recently revived as a binding material, but though extremely hard and durable, it is found to warp badly on the shelves.

Calf bindings have always been great favorites with book-lovers, and there are few things more beautiful—prima facie, than a volume daintily bound in light French calf, as smooth as glass, as fine as silk, with elegant gold tooling without and within, gilt edges, and fly-leaves of finest satin. I said beautiful, prima facie—and this calls to mind the definition of that law term by a learned Vermont jurist, who said: "Gentlemen of the jury, I must explain to you that a prima facie case is a case that is very good in front, but may be very bad in the rear." So of our so much lauded and really lovely calf bindings: they develop qualities in use which give us pause. Calf is the most brittle of the leathers—hence it is always breaking at the hinges; it is a very smooth leather—hence it shows every scratch instantly; it is a light and delicate leather—hence it shows soils and stains more quickly than any other. Out of every hundred calf-bound volumes in any well-used library, there will not remain ten which have not had to be re-bound or repaired at the end of twenty or thirty years. Heavy volumes bound in calf or half-calf leather will break by their own weight on the shelves, without any use at all; and smaller volumes are sure to have their brittle joints snapped asunder by handling sooner or later—it is only a question of time.

Next comes Russia leather, which is very thick and strong, being made of the hides of cattle, colored, and perfumed by the oil of birch, and made chiefly in Russia. The objections to this leather are its great cost, its stiffness and want of elasticity, and its tendency to desiccate and lose all its tenacity in the dry or heated atmosphere of our libraries. It will break at the hinges—though not so readily as calf.

Lastly, we have the morocco leather, so called because it was brought from Morocco, in Africa, and still we get the best from thence, and from the Mediterranean ports of the Levant—whence comes another name for the best of this favorite leather, "Levant morocco," which is the skin of the mountain goat, and reckoned superior to all other leathers. The characteristics of the genuine morocco, sometimes called Turkey morocco, having a pebbled grain, distinguishing it from the smooth morocco, are its toughness and durability, combined with softness and flexibility. It has a very tenacious fibre, and I have never found a real morocco binding broken at the hinges. The old proverb—"there is nothing like leather"—is pregnant with meaning, and especially applies to the best morocco. As no material yet discovered in so many ages can take the place of leather for foot-wear and for harness, such is its tenacity and elasticity—so for book coverings, to withstand wear and tear, good leather is indispensable. There are thoroughly-bound books existing which are five centuries old—representing about the time when leather began to replace wood and metals for binding. The three great enemies of books are too great heat, too much moisture, and coal gas, which produces a sulphurous acid very destructive to bindings, and should never be used in libraries. From the dangers which destroy calf and Russia leather, morocco is measurably free.

As to color, I usually choose red for books which come to binding or rebinding, for these reasons. The bulk of every library is of dark and sombre color, being composed of the old-fashioned calf bindings, which grow darker with age, mingled with the cloth bindings of our own day, in which dark colors predominate. Now the intermixture of red morocco, in all or most of the newly bound books, relieves the monotony of so much blackness, lights up the shelves, and gives a more cheerful aspect to the whole library. Some there are who insist upon varying the colors of bindings with the subjects of the books—and the British Museum Library actually once bound all works on botany in green, poetry in yellow, history in red, and theology in blue; but this is more fanciful than important. A second reason for preferring red in moroccos is that, being dyed with cochineal, it holds its color more permanently than any other—the moroccos not colored red turning to a dingy, disagreeable brown after forty or fifty years, while the red are found to be fast colors. This was first discovered in the National Library of France, and ever since most books in that great collection have been bound in red. A celebrated binder having recommended this color to a connoisseur who was having fine morocco binding done, instanced the example of the Paris Library, whose books, said he, are "mostly red," to which the amateur replied that he hoped they were.

Add to the merits of morocco leather the fact that it is not easily scratched nor stained, that it is very tough in wear, and resists better than any other the moisture and soiling of the hands—and we have a material worthy of all acceptance.

In half-binding chosen for the great majority of books because it is much cheaper than full leather, the sides are covered with muslin or with some kind of colored paper—usually marble. The four corners of every book, however, should always be protected by leather or, better still, by vellum, which is a firmer material—otherwise they will rapidly wear off, and the boards will break easily at their corners. As to the relative merits of cloth and paper for the sides of books, cloth is far more durable, though it costs more. Paper becomes quickly frayed at the edges, or is liable to peel where pasted on, though it may be renewed at small expense, and may properly be used except upon the much-read portion of the library. The cloth or paper should always harmonize in color with the leather to which it is attached. They need not be the same, but they should be of similar shade.

One more reason for preferring morocco to other leathers is that you can always dispense with lettering-pieces or patches in gilding the titles on the back. All light-colored bindings (including law calf) are open to the objection that gold lettering is hardly legible upon them. Hence the necessity of stamping the titles upon darker pieces of leather, which are fastened to the backs. These lettering-pieces become loose in over-heated libraries, and tend continually to peel off, entailing the expense of repairing or re-lettering. Every morocco bound book can be lettered directly upon the leather. Bock is made of the skin of the Persian sheep, and is called Persian in London. It is a partially unsuccessful imitation of morocco, becoming easily abraded, like all the sheep-skin leathers, and although it is to be had in all colors, and looks fairly handsome for a time, and is tougher than skiver (or split sheep-skin), the books that are bound in it will sooner or later become an eyesore upon the shelves. A skin of Persian leather costs about one-third the price of genuine morocco, or goat. But the actual saving in binding is in a far less ratio—the difference being only six to eight cents per volume. It is really much cheaper to use morocco in the first place, than to undergo all the risks of deterioration and re-binding.

Of the various imitations of leather, or substitutes for it, we have leatherette, leather-cloth, duck, fibrette, feltine, and buckram. Buckram and duck are strong cotton or linen fabricks, made of different colors, and sometimes figured or embossed to give them somewhat the look of leather. Hitherto, they are made mostly in England, and I have learned of no American experience in their favor except the use of stout duck for covering blank books and binding newspapers. The use of buckram has been mostly abandoned by the libraries. Morocco cloth is American, but has no advantage over plain muslin or book cloth, that I am aware of. Leatherette, made principally of paper, colored and embossed to simulate morocco leather, appears to have dropped out of use almost as fast as it came in, having no quality of permanence, elegance, or even of great cheapness to commend it. Leatherette tears easily, and lacks both tenacity and smoothness.

Both feltine and fibrette are made of paper—tear quickly, and are unfit for use on any book that is ever likely to be read. All these imitations of leather are made of paper as their basis, and hence can never be proper substitutes for leather.

All torn leaves or plates in books should be at once mended by pasting a very thin onion-skin paper on both sides of the torn leaf, and pressing gently between leaves of sized paper until dry.

Corners made of vellum or parchment are more durable than any leather. When dry, the parchment becomes as hard almost as iron and resists falls or abrasion. To use it on books where the backs are of leather is a departure from the uniformity or harmony of style insisted upon by many, but in binding books that are to be greatly worn, use should come before beauty.

In rebinding, all maps or folded plates should be mounted on thin canvas, linen, or muslin, strong and fine, to protect them from inevitable tearing by long use. If a coarse or thick cloth is used, the maps will not fold or open easily and smoothly.

The cutting or trimming of the edges of books needs to be watched with jealous care. Few have reflected that the more margin a binder cuts off, the greater his profit on any job, white paper shavings having a very appreciable price by the pound. A strictly uncut book is in many American libraries a rarity. And of the books which go a second time to the binder, although at first uncut, how many retain their fair proportions of margin when they come back? You have all seen books in which the text has been cut into by the ruthless knife-machine of the binder. This is called "bleeding" a book, and there are no words strong enough to denounce this murderous and cold-blooded atrocity. The trimming of all books should be held within the narrowest limits—for the life of a book depends largely upon its preserving a good margin. Its only chance of being able to stand a second rebinding may depend upon its being very little trimmed at its first. If it must be cut at all, charge your binder to take off the merest shaving from either edge.

Every new book or magazine added to the library, if uncut, should be carefully cut with a paper-knife before it goes into the hands of any reader. Spoiled or torn or ragged edges will be the penalty of neglecting this. You have seen people tear open the leaves of books and magazines with their fingers—a barbarism which renders him who would be guilty of it worthy of banishment from the resorts of civilization. In cutting books, the leaves should always be held firmly down—and the knife pressed evenly through the uncut leaves to the farthest verge of the back. Books which are cut in the loose fashion which many use are left with rough or ragged edges always, and often a slice is gouged out of the margin by the mis-directed knife. Never trust a book to a novice to be cut, without showing him how to do it, and how not to do it.

The collation of new books in cloth or broché should be done before cutting, provided they are issued to readers untrimmed. In collating books in two or more volumes double watchfulness is needed to guard against a missing signature, which may have its place filled by the same pages belonging to another volume—a mixture sometimes made in binderies, in "gathering" the sheets, and which makes it necessary to see that the signatures are right as well as the pages. The collator should check off all plates and maps called for by the table of contents to make sure that the copy is perfect. Books without pagination are of course to have their leaves counted, which is done first in detail, one by one, and then verified by a rapid counting in sections, in the manner used by printers and binders in counting paper by the quire.

The binding of books may be divided into two styles or methods, namely, machine-made book-bindings, and hand-made bindings. Binding by machinery is wholly a modern art, and is applied to all or nearly all new books coming from the press. As these are, in more than nine cases out of ten, bound in cloth covers, and these covers, or cases, are cut out and stamped by machinery, such books are called "case-made." The distinction between this method of binding and the hand method is that in the former the case is made separately from the book, which is then put into it. After the sheets of any book come pressed and dried from the printing office, the first step is to fold them from the large flat sheets into book form. This is sometimes done by hand-folders of bone or some other hard material, but in large establishments for making books, it is done by a folding machine. This will fold ten thousand or more sheets in a day. The folded sheets are next placed in piles or rows, in their numerical sequence, and "gathered" by hand, i. e.: a bindery hand picks up the sheets one by one, with great rapidity, until one whole book is gathered and collated, and the process is repeated so long as any sheets remain. Next, the books are thoroughly pressed or "smashed" as it is called, in a powerful smashing-machine, giving solidity to the book, which before pressing was loose and spongy. Then the books are sawed or grooved in the back by another machine, operating a swiftly moving saw, and sewed on cords by still another machine, at about half the cost of hand-sewing. Next, they are cut or trimmed on the three edges in a cutting-machine. The backs of the books are made round by a rounding-machine, leaving the back convex and the front concave in form, as seen in all finished books. The books are now ready for the covers. These consist of binders' board or mill-board, cut out of large sheets into proper size, with lightning-like rapidity, by another machine called a rotary board-cutter. The cloth which is to form the back and sides of the book is cut out, of proper size for the boards, from great rolls of stamped or ribbed or embossed muslin, by another machine. The use of cloth, now so universal for book-binding, dates back little more than half a century. About 1825, Mr. Leighton, of London, introduced it as a substitute for the drab-colored paper then used on the sides, and for the printed titles on the backs. The boards are firmly glued to the cloth, the edges of which are turned over the boards, and fastened on the inside of the covers. The ornamental stamps or figures seen on the covers, both at the back and sides are stamped in with a heated die of brass, or other metal, worked by machinery. The lettering of the title is done in the same way, only that gold-leaf is applied before the die falls. Lastly, the book is pasted by its fly leaves or end-leaves, (sometimes with the addition of a cloth guard) to the inside of the cloth case or cover, and the book is done, after a final pressing. By these rapid machine methods a single book-manufacturing house can turn out ten thousand volumes in a day, with a rapidity which almost takes the breath away from the beholder.

There is a kind of binding which dispenses entirely with sewing the sheets of a book. The backs are soaked with a solution of india-rubber, and each sheet must be thoroughly agglutinated to the backs, so as to adhere firmly to its fellows. This requires that all the sheets shall be folded as single leaves or folios, otherwise the inner leaves of the sheets, having no sewing, would drop out. This method is employed on volumes of plates, music, or any books made up of large separate sheets.

In notable contrast to these rapid methods of binding what are termed case-made books, comes the hand-made process, where only partial use of machinery is possible.

The rebinding process is divided into three branches: preparing, forwarding, and finishing. The most vital distinction between a machine-made and a hand-made binding, is that the cloth or case-made book is not fastened into its cover in a firm and permanent way, as in leather-backed books. It is simply pasted or glued to its boards—not interlaced by the cords or bands on which it is sewed. Hence one can easily tear off the whole cover of a cloth-bound book, by a slight effort, and such volumes tend to come to pieces early, under constant wear and tear of library service.

Let us now turn to the practical steps pursued in the treatment of books for library use. In re-binding a book, the first step is to take the book apart, or, as it is sometimes called, to take it to pieces. This is done by first stripping off its cover, if it has one. Cloth covers easily come off, as their boards are not tied to the cords on which the book is sewed, but are simply fastened by paste or glue to the boards by a muslin guard, or else the cloth is glued to the back of the book. If the book is leather-covered, or half-bound, i. e.: with a leather back and (usually) leather on its four corners, taking it to pieces is a somewhat slower process. The binder's knife is used to cut the leather at the joints or hinges of the volume, so that the boards may be removed. The cords that tie the boards to the volume are cut at the same time. If the book has a loose or flexible back, the whole cover comes easily off: if bound with a tight back, the glued leather back must be soaked with a sponge full of water, till it is soft enough to peel off, and let the sheets be easily separated.

The book is now stripped of its former binding, and the next step is to take it apart, signature by signature. A signature is that number of leaves which make up one sheet of the book in hand. Thus, an octavo volume, or a volume printed in eights, as it is called, has eight leaves, or sixteen pages to a signature; a quarto four leaves; a duodecimo, or 12 mo. twelve leaves. The term signature (from Lat. signare, a sign) is also applied to a letter or figure printed at the foot of the first page of each sheet or section of the book. If the letters are used, the signatures begin with A. and follow in regular sequence of the alphabet. If the book is a very thick one, (or more than twenty-six signatures) then after signature Z, it is customary to duplicate the letters—A. A.—etc., for the remaining signatures. If figures are used instead of letters, the signatures run on to the last, in order of numbers. These letters, indicating signatures are an aid to the binder, in folding, "gathering," and collating the consecutive sheets of any book, saving constant reference to the "pagination," as it is termed, or the paging of the volume, which would take much more time. In many books, you find the signature repeated in the "inset," or the inner leaves of the sheet, with a star or a figure to mark the sequence. Many books, however, are now printed without any signature marks whatever.

To return: in taking apart the sheets or signatures, where they are stuck together at the back by adhesive glue or paste, the knife is first used to cut the thread in the grooves, where the book is sewed on cords or tape. Then the back is again soaked, the sheets are carefully separated, and the adhering substance removed by the knife or fingers. Care has to be taken to lay the signatures in strict order or sequence of pages, or the book may be bound up wrongly. The threads are next to be removed from the inside of every sheet. The sheets being all separated, the book is next pressed, to render all the leaves smooth, and the book solid for binding. Formerly, books were beaten by a powerful hammer, to accomplish this, but it is much more quickly and effectively done in most binderies by the ordinary screw press. Every pressing of books should leave them under pressure at least eight hours.

After pressing, the next step is to sew the sheets on to cords or twine, set vertically at proper distances in a frame, called a "sewing bench," for this purpose. No book can be thoroughly well bound if the sewing is slighted in any degree. Insist upon strong, honest linen thread—if it breaks with a slight pull it is not fit to be used in a book. The book is prepared for the sewer by sawing several grooves across the back with a common saw. The two end grooves are light and narrow, the central ones wider and deeper. Into these inner grooves, the cords fit easily, and the book being taken, sheet by sheet, is firmly sewed around the cords, by alternate movements of the needle and thread, always along the middle of the sheet, the thread making a firm knot at each end (called the "kettle-stitch") as it is returned for sewing on the next sheet. Sometimes the backs are not sawed at all, but the sheets of the book are sewed around the cords, which thus project a little from the back, and form the "bands," seen in raised form on the backs of some books. Books should be sewed on three to six cords, according to their size. This raised-band sewing is reckoned by some a feature of excellent binding. The sunken-band style is apt to give a stiff back, while the raised bands are usually treated with a flexible back. When sewed, the book is detached from its fellows, which may have been sewed on the same bench, by slipping it along the cords, then cutting them apart, so as to leave some two inches of each cord projecting, as ends to be fastened later to the board. In careful binding, the thread is sewed "all along," i. e.: each sheet by itself, instead of "two on," as it is called.

The next process is termed "lining up," and consists of putting on the proper fly-leaves or end-leaves, at the beginning and end of the volume. These usually consist of four leaves of ordinary white printing paper at each end, sometimes finished out with two leaves of colored or marbled paper, to add a touch of beauty to the book when opened. Marbled paper is more durable in color than the tinted, and does not stain so easily. One of these end-leaves is pasted down to the inside cover, while the other is left flying—whence "fly-leaf."

After this comes the cutting of the book at the edges. This is done by screwing it firmly in a cutting-machine, which works a sharp knife rapidly, shaving off the edges successively of the head, front and end, or "tail" as it is called in book-binding parlance. This trimming used to be done by hand, with a sharp cutting knife called by binders a "plough." Now, there are many forms of cutting machines, some of which are called "guillotines" for an obvious reason. In binding some books, which it is desired to preserve with wide margins, only a mere shaving is taken off the head, so as to leave it smooth at the top, letting the front and tail leaves remain uncut. But in case of re-binding much-used books, the edges are commonly so much soiled that trimming all around may be required, in order that they may present a decent appearance. Yet in no case should the binder be allowed to cut any book deeply, so as to destroy a good, fair margin. Care must also be taken to cut the margins evenly, at right angles, avoiding any crooked lines.

After cutting the book comes "rounding," or giving the back of the book a curved instead of its flat shape. This process is done with the hand, by a hammer, or in a rounding press, with a metallic roller. Before rounding, the back of the book is glued up, that is, receives a coating of melted glue with a glueing brush, to hold the sections together, and render the back firm, and a thorough rubbing of the back with hot glue between the sections gives strength to the volume.

Next comes the treatment of the edges of the book, hitherto all white, in order to protect them from showing soil in long use. Sometimes (and this is the cheaper process) the books are simply sprinkled at the edges with a brush dipped in a dark fluid made of burnt umber or red ochre, and shaken with a quick concussion near the edges until they receive a sprinkle of color from the brush. Other books receive what is called a solid color on the edges, the books being screwed into a press, and the color applied with a sponge or brush.

But a marbled edge presents a far more handsome appearance, and should harmonize in color and figure with the marbled paper of the end leaves. Marbling, so called from its imitation of richly veined colored marble, is staining paper or book edges with variegated colors. The process of marbling is highly curious, both chemically and aesthetically, and may be briefly described. A large shallow trough or vat is filled with prepared gum water (gum-tragacanth being used); on the surface of this gum-water bright colors, mixed with a little ox-gall, to be used in producing the composite effect aimed at in the marbling are thrown or sprinkled in liquid form. Then they are deftly stirred or agitated on the surface of the water, with an implement shaped to produce a certain pattern. The most commonly used one is a long metallic comb, which is drawn across the surface of the combined liquids, leaving its pattern impressed upon the ductile fluid. The edges of the book to be marbled are then touched or dipped on the top of the water, on which the coloring matter floats, and at once withdrawn, exhibiting on the edge the precise pattern of "combed marble" desired, since the various colors—red, yellow, blue, white, etc., have adhered to the surface of the book-edges. The serrated and diversified effect of most comb-marbling is due to stroking the comb in waved lines over the surface. The spotted effect so much admired in other forms, is produced by throwing the colors on with a brush, at the fancy of the skilled workman, or artist, as you may call him. Marbled paper is made in the same way, by dipping one surface of the white sheet, held in a curved form, with great care on the surface of the coloring vat. This is termed shell and wave marbling, as distinguished from comb-marbling. The paper or the book edges are next finished by sizing and burnishing, which gives them a bright glistening appearance.

A still more ornate effect in a book is attained by gilding the edges. Frequently the head of a book is gilt, leaving the front and tail of an uncut book without ornament, and this is esteemed a very elegant style by book connoisseurs, who are, or should be solicitous of wide margins. The gilding of the top edge is a partial protection from dust falling inside, to which the other edges are not so liable. To gild a book edge, it is placed in a press, the edges scraped or smoothed, and coated with a red-colored fluid, which serves to heighten the effect of the gold. Then a sizing is applied by a camel's-hair brush, being a sticky substance, usually the white of an egg, mixed with water (termed by binders "glaire") and the gold-leaf is laid smoothly over it. When the sizing is dry, the gold is burnished with a tool, tipped with an agate or blood-stone, drawn forcibly over the edge until it assumes a glistening appearance.

After the edges have been treated by whatever process, there follows what is termed the "backing" of the book. The volume is pressed between iron clamps, and the back is hammered or rolled where it joins the sides, so as to form a groove to hold the boards forming the solid portion of the cover of every book. A backing-machine is sometimes used for this process, making by pressure the joint or groove for the boards. Then the "head-band" is glued on, being a silk braid or colored muslin, fastened around a cord, which projects a little above the head and the tail, at the back of the book, giving it a more finished appearance. At the same time, a book-mark for keeping the place is sometimes inserted and fastened like the head-band. This is often a narrow ribbon of colored silk, or satin, and helps to give a finish to the book, as well as to furnish the reader a trustworthy guide to keep a place—as it will not fall out like bits of paper inserted for that purpose.

Next, the mill-boards are applied, cut so as to project about an eighth to a quarter of an inch from the edges of the book on three sides. The book is held to the boards by the ends of its cords being interlaced, i. e.: passed twice through holes pierced in the boards, the loose ends of the cords being then wet with paste and hammered down flat to the surface of the boards. The best tar-boards should be used, which are made of old rope; no board made of straw is fit to be used on any book. Straw boards are an abomination—a cheap expedient which costs dearly in the end. The binder should use heavy boards on the larger and thicker volumes, but thin ones on all duodecimos and smaller sizes.

Next, the books are subjected to a second pressing, after which the lining of the back is in order. Good thick brown paper is generally used for this, cut to the length of the book, and is firmly glued to the back, and rubbed down closely with a bone folder. A cloth "joint," or piece of linen (termed "muslin super,") is often glued to the back, with two narrow flaps to be pasted to the boards, on each side, thus giving greater tenacity to the covering. If the book is to be backed so as to open freely, that is, to have a spring back or elastic back, two thicknesses of a firm, strong paper, or thin card-board are used, one thickness of the paper being glued to the back of the book, while the other—open in the middle, but fastened at the edges, is to be glued to the leather of which the back is to be made.

After this, comes putting the book in leather. If full bound a piece of leather cut full size of the volume, with about half an inch over, is firmly glued or pasted to the boards and the back, the leather being turned over the edges of the boards, and nicely glued on their inside margin. It is of great importance that the edges of the leather should be smoothly pared down with a sharp knife, so as to present an even edge where the leather joins the boards, not a protuberance—which makes an ugly and clumsy piece of work, instead of a neat one.

For half-binding, a piece of leather is taken large enough to cover the back lengthwise, and turn in at the head and tail, while the width should be such as to allow from one to one and a half inches of the leather to be firmly glued to the boards next the back. The four corners of the boards are next to be leathered, the edges of the leather being carefully pared down, to give a smooth surface, even with the boards, when turned in. The leather is usually wet, preparatory to being manipulated thus, which renders it more flexible and ductile than in its dry state. The cloth or marbled paper is afterwards pasted or glued to the sides of the book, and turned neatly over the edge of the boards.

It may be added, that the edges of the boards, in binding nice books, are sometimes ground off on a swiftly revolving emery-wheel, giving the book a beveled edge, which is regarded as handsomer and more finished than a straight rectangular edge.

All the processes hitherto described are called "forwarding" the book: we now come to what is denominated "finishing." This includes the lettering of the title, and the embellishing of the back and sides, with or without gilding, as the case may be. Before this is taken in hand, the leather of the book must be perfectly dry. For the lettering, copper-faced types are used to set up the desired sequence of letters and words, and care and taste should be exercised to have (1) Types neither too large, which present a clumsy appearance, nor too small, which are difficult to read. (2) Proper spacing of the words and lines, and "balancing" the component parts of the lettering on the back, so as to present a neat and harmonious effect to the eye. A word should never be divided or hyphenated in lettering, when it can be avoided. In the case of quite thin volumes, the title may be lettered lengthwise along the back, in plain, legible type, instead of in very small letters across the back, which are often illegible. The method of applying gold lettering is as follows: the back of the book where the title is to go, is first moistened with a sticky substance, as albumen or glaire, heretofore mentioned, laid on with a camel's hair brush. The type (or the die as the case may be) is heated in a binder's charcoal furnace, or gas stove, to insure the adhesion of the gold leaf. The thin gold leaf (which comes packed in little square "books," one sheet between every two leaves) is then cut the proper size by the broad thin knife of the "finisher," and carefully laid over the sized spot to receive the lettering. Usually, two thicknesses of gold leaf are laid one above another, which ensures a brighter and more decided effect in the lettering. The type metal or die is then pressed firmly and evenly down upon the gold-leaf, and the surplus shavings of the gold carefully brushed off and husbanded, for this leaf is worth money. The gold leaf generally in use costs about $6.50 for 500 little squares or sheets. It is almost inconceivably thin, the thickness of one gold leaf being estimated at about 1/280000 of an inch.

Besides the lettering, many books receive gold ornamentation on the back or side of a more or less elaborate character. Designs of great artistic beauty, and in countless variety, have been devised for book ornaments, and French and English book-binders have vied with each other for generations in the production of decorative borders, fillets, centre-pieces, rolls, and the most exquisite gold-tooling, of which the art is capable.

These varied patterns of book ornamentation are cut in brass or steel, and applied by the embossing press with a rapidity far exceeding that of the hand-work formerly executed by the gilders of books. But for choice books and select jobs, only the hands are employed, with such fillets, stamps, pallets, rolls, and polishing irons as may aid in the nice execution of the work. If a book is to be bound in what is called "morocco antique," it is to be "blind-tooled," i. e.: the hot iron wheels which impress the fillets or rolls, are to be worked in blank, or without gold-leaf ornamentation. This is a rich and tasteful binding, especially with carefully beveled boards, and gilded edges.

On some books, money has been lavished on the binding to an amount exceeding by many fold the cost of the book itself. Elegant book-binding has come to be reckoned as a fine art, and why should not "the art preservative of all other arts"—printing—be preserved in permanent and sumptuous, if not splendid style, in its environment? Specimens of French artistic binding from the library of Grolier, that celebrated and munificent patron of art, who died in 1565, have passed through the hands of many eager connoisseurs, always at advancing prices. The Grolier binding was notable for the elegant finish of its interlaced ornaments in gold-leaf, a delicacy of touch, and an inimitable flowing grace, which modern binders have struggled after in vain. At the Beckford Library sale in London, in 1884, there was a great array of fine French bindings of early date. A book from Grolier's library, the "Toison d'Or," 1563, brought £405, or over $2,000, and a Heptameron, which had belonged to Louis XIV, in beautiful brown morocco, with crown, fleur-de-lys, a stag, a cock, and stars, as ornaments, all exquisitely worked in gold, lined with vellum, was sold for £400. Following the Grolier patterns, came another highly decorative style, by the French binders, which was notable for the very delicate gold tooling, covering the whole sides of the book with exquisite scroll-work, and branches of laurel.

The most celebrated of English book-binders was Roger Payne, who was notable for the careful labor bestowed on the forwarding and finishing of his books, specimens of which are still reckoned among the chefs-d'oeuvre of the art. His favorite style was a roughly-grained red morocco, always full-bound, and he kept in view what many binders forget, that the leather is the main thing in a finely executed binding, not to be overlaid by too much gilding and decoration. He charged twelve guineas each (over $60) for binding some small volumes in his best style. Payne's most notable successors have been Lewis, Hayday, Bedford, and Zaehnsdorf, the latter of whom is the author of a treatise on book-binding. At the art exhibition of 1862, a book bound by Bedford was exhibited, which took two months merely to finish, and the binding cost forty guineas; and a Doré's Dante, exquisitely bound by Zaehnsdorf, in Grolier style, cost one hundred guineas.

A decorative treatment not yet mentioned is applied to the covers of some books, which are bound in elegant full calf. To give to this leather the elegant finish known as "tree-calf binding", it is first washed with glaire or albumen. The boards of the book are then bent to a convex shape, and water sprinkled over, until it runs down from the centre in many little branches or rivulets. While running, a solution of copperas is sprinkled on, and carried along the branches which radiate from the central trunk, producing the dark-mottled colored effect which resembles, more or less nearly, a tree with its spreading branches.

To make the book beautiful should be the united aim of all who are concerned in its manufacture—the paper-maker, the printer, and the book-binder. While utility comes first in the art of book-making for libraries, yet neatness and even elegance should always be united with it. An ill-forwarded book, or a badly finished one, presents a clumsy, unattractive look to the eye; while an evenly made piece of work, and a careful and tasteful ornamentation in the gilding, attract every discerning reader by their beauty. One writer upon book-binding terms the forwarder of the book an artizan, and the finisher an artist; but both should have the true artist's taste, in order to produce the work that shall commend itself by intrinsic excellence. The form and shape of the book depend wholly, indeed, on the forwarder.

We are told that the great beauty of the Grolier bindings lay in the lavish and tasteful adornment of the sides. In fact, much depends upon the design, in every piece of decorative work. The pretty scroll patterns, the interlaced figures, the delicate tracery, the circles, rosettes, and stars, the lovely arabesques, the flowers and leaves borrowed from the floral kingdom, the geometric lines, the embroidered borders, like fine lace-work,—all these lend their separate individual charms to the finish of the varied specimens of the binder's art. There are some books that look as brilliant as jewels in their rich, lustrous adornment, the design sometimes powdered with gold points and stars. Some gems of art are lined with rich colored leather in the inside covers, which are stamped and figured in gold. This is termed "doublé" by the French. Some have their edges gilded over marbling, a refinement of beauty which adds richness to the work, the marble design showing through the brilliant gold, when the edge is turned. Others have pictorial designs drawn on the edges, which are then gilded over the pictures. This complex style of gilding, the French term gaufré. It was formerly much in vogue, but is latterly out of fashion. Many gems of binding are adorned with fly-leaves of moire silk, or rich colored satin. Color, interspersed with gold in the finish of a book covering, heightens the effect. The morocco of the side-cover is sometimes cut, and inlaid with leather of a different color. Inlaying with morocco or kid is the richest style of decoration which the art has yet reached. Beautiful bindings have been in greater request during the past twenty years than ever before. There was a renaissance of the ancient styles of decoration in France, and the choice Grolier and Maioli patterns were revived with the general applause of the lovers of fine books.

In vivid contrast to these lovely specimens of the binder's art, are found innumerable bibliopegic horrors, on the shelves of countless libraries, public and private. Among these are to be reckoned most law books, clad in that dead monotony of ugliness, which Charles Dickens has described as "that under-done pie-crust cover, which is technically known as law calf." There are other uncouth and unwholesome specimens everywhere abroad, "whom Satan hath bound", to borrow Mr. Henry Stevens's witty application of a well-known Scripture text. Such repellant bindings are only fit to serve as models to be avoided by the librarian.

The binding that is executed by machinery is sometimes called "commercial binding". It is also known as "edition binding", because the whole edition of a book is bound in uniform style of cover. While the modern figured cloth binding originated in England, it has had its fullest development in the United States. Here, those ingenious and powerful machines which execute every branch of the folding and forwarding of a book, and even the finishing of the covers, with almost lightning speed, were mostly invented and applied. Very vivid is the contrast between the quiet, humdrum air of the old-fashioned bindery hand-work, and the ceaseless clang and roar of the machinery which turns out thousands of volumes in a day.

"Not as ours the books of old,
Things that steam can stamp and fold."

I believe that I failed to notice, among the varieties of material for book-bindings heretofore enumerated, some of the rarer and more singular styles. Thus, books have been bound in enamel, (richly variegated in color) in Persian silk, in seal-skin, in the skin of the rabbit, white-bear, crocodile, cat, dog, mole, tiger, otter, buffalo, wolf, and even rattle-snake. A favorite modern leather for purses and satchels, alligator-skin, has been also applied to the clothing of books. Many eccentric fancies have been exemplified in book-binding, but the acme of gruesome oddity has been reached by binding books in human skin, of which many examples are on record. It is perhaps three centuries old, but the first considerable instance of its use grew out of the horrors of the French Revolution. In England, the Bristol law library has several volumes bound in the skin of local criminals, flayed after execution, and specially tanned for the purpose. It is described as rather darker than vellum. A Russian poet is said to have bound his sonnets in human leather—his own skin—taken from a broken thigh—and the book he presented to the lady of his affections! Such ghoulish incidents as these afford curious though repulsive glimpses of the endless vagaries of human nature.

It is said that the invention of half-binding originated among the economists of Germany; and some wealthy bibliophiles have stigmatized this style of dressing books as "genteel poverty." But its utility and economy have been demonstrated too long to admit of any doubt that half-binding has come to stay; while, as we have seen, it is also capable of attractive aesthetic features. Mr. William Matthews, perhaps the foremost of American binders, said that "a book when neatly forwarded, and cleanly covered, is in a very satisfactory condition without any finishing or decorating." It was this same binder who exhibited at the New York World's Fair Exhibition of 1853, a copy of Owen Jones's Alhambra, bound by him in full Russia, inlaid with blue and red morocco, with gold tooling all executed by hand, taking six months to complete, and costing the binder no less than five hundred dollars.

Book lettering, or stamping the proper title on the back of the book, is a matter of the first importance. As the titles of most books are much too long to go on the back, a careful selection of the most distinctive words becomes necessary. Here the taste and judgment of the librarian come indispensably into play. To select the lettering of a book should never be left to the binder, because it is not his business, and because, in most cases, he will make a mistake somewhere in the matter. From want of care on this point, many libraries are filled with wrongly lettered books, misleading titles, and blunders as ludicrous as they are distressing. I have had to have thousands of volumes in the Library of Congress re-lettered. A copy of Lord Bacon's "Sylva Sylvarum", for example, was lettered "Verlum's Sylva"—because the sapient binder read on the title-page "By Baron Verulam", and it was not his business to find out that this was the title of honor which Bacon bore; so, by a compound blunder, he converted Verulam into Verlum, and gave the book to an unknown writer. This is perhaps an extreme case, but you will find many to match it. Another folio, Rochefort's History of the Caribby Islands, was lettered "Davies' Carriby Islands," because the title bore the statement "Rendered into English by John Davies." In another library, the great work of the naturalist, Buffon, was actually lettered "Buffoon's Natural History." Neither of these blunders was as bad as that of the owner of an elegant black-letter edition of a Latin classic, which was printed without title-page, like most fifteenth century books, and began at the top of the first leaf, in large letters—"HOC INCIPIT," signifying "This begins", followed by the title or subject of the book. The wiseacre who owned it had the book richly bound, and directed it to be lettered on the back—"Works of Hoc Incipit, Rome, 1490." This is a true story, and the hero of it might perhaps, on the strength of owning so many learned works, have passed for a philosopher, if he had not taken the pains to advertise himself as a blockhead.

Some of the commonest blunders are stamping on the back the translator's or the editor's name, instead of that of the author of the book; putting on adjectives instead of substantives for titles; modernizing ancient and characteristic spelling, found in the title, (the exact orthography of which should always be followed); mixing up the number and the case of Latin titles, and those in other foreign languages; leaving off entirely the name of the writer; and lettering periodicals by putting on the volume without the year, or the year, without the number of the volume. "No one but an idiot", said Mr. C. Walford to the London Librarians' Conference, "would send his books to the binder, without indicating the lettering he desires on the backs." The only safe-guard is for the librarian or owner to prescribe on a written slip in each volume, a title for every book, before it goes to the binder, who will be only too glad to have his own time saved—since time is money to him. I would not underrate the book-binders, who are a most worthy and intelligent class, numbering in their ranks men who are scholars as well as artists; but they are concerned chiefly with the mechanics and not with the metaphysics of their art, and moreover, they are not bound by that rigid rule which should govern the librarian—namely—to have no ignoramus about the premises.

In writing letterings (for I take it that no one would be guilty of defacing his title-pages by marking them up with directions to the binder) you should definitely write out the parts of the title as they are to run on the back of the book, spaced line upon line, and not "run together." I think that the name of the author should always stand first at the head of the lettering, because it affords the quickest guide to the eye in finding any book, as well as in replacing it upon the shelves. Especially useful and time-saving is this, where classes of books are arranged in alphabetical sequence. Is not the name of the author commonly uppermost in the mind of the searcher? Then, let it be uppermost on the book sought also. Follow the name of the author by the briefest possible words selected from the title which will suffice to characterize the subject of the work. Thus, the title—"On the Origin of Species by means of Natural Selection", by Charles Darwin, should be abbreviated into

Darwin
——————
Origin of Species.

Here are no superfluous words, to consume the binder's time and gold-leaf, and to be charged in the bill; or to consume the time of the book-searcher, in stopping to read a lot of surplusage on the back of the book, before seizing it for immediate use. Books in several volumes should have the number of each volume plainly marked in Arabic (not Roman) numerals on the back. The old-fashioned method of expressing numerals by letters, instead of figures, is too cumbrous and time-consuming to be tolerated. You want to letter, we will say, vol. 88 of Blackwood's Magazine. If you follow the title-page of that book, as printed, you have to write

"Volume LXXXVIII," eight letters, for the number of the volume, instead of two simple figures—thus—88.

Now can any one give a valid reason for the awkward and tedious method of notation exhibited in the Roman numerals? If it were only the lost time of the person who writes it, or the binder's finisher who letters it, it would be comparatively insignificant. But think of the time wasted by the whole world of readers, who must go through a more or less troublesome process of notation before they get a clear notion of what all this superfluous stuff stands for instead of the quick intuition with which they take in the Arabic figures; and who must moreover, by the antiquated method, take valuable time to write out LXXXVIII, eight figures instead of two, to say nothing of the added liability to error, which increases in the exact ratio of the number of figures to be written. Which of these two forms of expression is more quickly written, or stamped, or read? By which method of notation will the library messenger boys or girls soonest find the book? This leads me to say what cannot be too strongly insisted upon; all library methods should be time-saving methods, and so devised for the benefit alike of the librarian, the assistants, and the readers. Until one has learned the supreme value of moments, he will not be fit for a librarian. The same method by Arabic numerals only, should be used in all references to books; and it would be well if the legal fashion of citing authorities by volume and page, now adopted in most law books, were extended to all literature—thus:

"3 Macaulay's England, 481. N. Y. 1854," instead of "Macaulay's England, N. Y. ed. 1854. vol. 3, page 481." It is a matter of congratulation to all librarians, as well as to the reading public, that Poole's Indexes to Periodical Literature have wisely adopted Arabic figures only, both for volume and page. The valuable time thus saved to all is quite incalculable.

Every book which is leather-bound has its back divided off into panels or sections, by the band across the back or by the gold or plain fillet or roll forming part of the finish of the book. These panels are usually five or six in number, the former being the more common. Now it is the librarian's function to prescribe in which of these panels the lettering of the book—especially where there is double lettering—shall go. Thus

Many books, especially dramatic works, and the collected works of authors require the contents of the various volumes to be briefed on the back. Here is a Shakespeare, for example, in 10 volumes, or a Swift in 19, or Carlyle in 33, and you want to find King Lear, or Gulliver's Travels, or Heroes and Hero Worship. The other volumes concern you not—but you want the shortest road to these. If the name of each play is briefed by the first word upon the different volumes of your Shakespeare, or the contents of each volume upon the Swift and the Carlyle,—as they should be—you find instantly what you want, with one glance of the eye along the backs. If put to the trouble of opening every volume to find the contents, or of hunting it in the index, or the library catalogue, you lose precious time, while readers wait, thus making the needless delay cumulative, and as it must be often repeated, indefinite.

Each volume should have its date and place of publication plainly lettered at the lower end, or what binders term the tail of the book. This often saves time, as you may not want an edition of old date, or vice versa, while the place and date enable readers' tickets to be filled out quickly without the book. The name of the library might well be lettered also on the back, being more obvious as a permanent means of identification than the book-plate or inside stamp.

Books should never be used when fresh from the binder's hands. The covers are then always damp, and warp on exposure to air and heat. Unless pressed firmly in shelves, or in piles, for at least two weeks, they may become incurably warped out of shape. Many an otherwise handsomely bound book is ruined by neglect of this caution, for once thoroughly dried in its warped condition, there is no remedy save the costly one of rebinding.

Books are frequently lettered so carelessly that the titles instead of aligning, or being in straight horizontal lines, run obliquely upward or downward, thus defacing the volume. Errors in spelling words are also liable to occur. All crooked lettering and all mistakes in spelling should at once be rejected, and the faulty books returned to the binder, to be corrected at his own expense. This severe revision of all books when newly bound, before they are placed upon the shelves, should be done by the librarian's or owner's own eye—not entrusted to subordinates, unless to one thoroughly skilled.

One should never receive back books from a binder without collating them, to see if all are perfect as to pages, and if all plates or maps are in place. If deficiencies are found, the binder, and not the library is responsible, provided the book was known to be perfect when sent for binding.

In the Congressional Library I had the periodicals which are analyzed in Poole's Index of Periodical Literature thoroughly compared and re-lettered, wherever necessary, to make the series of volumes correspond with the references in that invaluable and labor-saving index. For instance, the Eclectic Review, as published in London, had eight distinct and successive series (thus confusing reference by making eight different volumes called 1, 2, 3, etc.) each with a different numbering, "First series, 2d series," etc., which Poole's Index very properly consolidated into one, for convenient reference. By adding the figures as scheduled in that work—prefixed by the words Poole's Index No. —— or simply Poole, in small letters, followed by the figure of the volume as given in that index, you will find a saving of time in hunting and supplying references that is almost incalculable. If you cannot afford to have this re-numbering done by a binder in gilt letters, it will many times repay the cost and time of doing it on thin manila paper titles, written or printed by a numbering machine and pasted on the backs of the volumes.

In all periodicals,—magazines and serials of every kind,—the covers and their advertisements should be bound in their proper place, with each month or number of the periodical, though it may interrupt the continuity of the paging. Thus will be preserved valuable contemporary records respecting prices, bibliographical information, etc., which should never be destroyed, as it is illustrative of the life and history of the period. The covers of the magazines, too, frequently contain the table of contents of the number, which of course must be prefixed to it, in order to be of any use. If advertising pages are very numerous and bulky, (as in many popular periodicals of late years) they may well be bound at the end of the volume, or, if so many as to make the volume excessively thick, they might be bound in a supplementary volume. In all books, half-titles or bastard titles, as they are called, should be bound in, as they are a part of the book.

With each lot of books to be bound, there should always be sent a sample volume of good work as a pattern, that the binder may have no excuse for hasty or inferior workmanship.

The Grolier Club was founded in New York in 1884, having for its objects to promote the literary study and progress of the arts pertaining to the production of books. It has published more than twenty books in sumptuous style, and mostly in quarto form, the editions being limited to 150 copies at first, since increased to 300, under the rapidly enlarging membership of the Club. Most of these books relate to fine binding, fine printing, or fine illustration of books, or are intended to exemplify them, and by their means, by lectures, and exhibitions of fine book-work, this society has contributed much toward the diffusion of correct taste. More care has been bestowed upon fine binding in New York than in London itself. In fact, elegant book-binding is coming to be recognized as one of the foremost of the decorative arts.

The art of designing book-covers and patterns for gilding books has engaged the talents of many artists, among whom may be named Edwin A. Abbey, Howard Pyle, Stanford White, and Elihu Vedder. Nor have skilful designs been wanting among women, as witness Mrs. Whitman's elegant tea-leaf border for the cover of Dr. O. W. Holmes's "Over the Tea-cups," and Miss Alice Morse's arabesques and medallions for Lafcadio Hearn's "Two Years in the French West Indies." Miss May Morris designed many tasteful letters for the fine bindings executed by Mr. Cobden-Sanderson of London, and Kate Greenaway's many exquisite little books for little people have become widely known for their quaint and curious cover designs. A new field thus opens for skilled cultivators of the beautiful who have an eye for the art of drawing.

Mr. William Matthews, the accomplished New York binder, in an address before the Grolier Club in 1895, said: "I have been astonished that so few women—in America, I know none—are encouragers of the art; they certainly could not bestow their taste on anything that would do them more credit, or as a study, give them more satisfaction." It is but fair to add that since this judgment was put forth, its implied reproach is no longer applicable: a number of American women have interested themselves in the study of binding as a fine art; and some few in practical work as binders of books.

There is no question that readers take a greater interest in books that are neatly and attractively bound, than in volumes dressed in a mean garb. No book owner or librarian with any knowledge of the incurable defects of calf, sheep, or roan leather, if he has any regard for the usefulness or the economies of his library, will use them in binding books that are to possess permanent value in personal or public use. True economy lies in employing the best description of binding in the first instance.

When it is considered that the purposed object of book-binding is to preserve in a shape at once attractive and permanent, the best and noblest thoughts of man, it rises to a high rank among the arts. Side by side with printing, it strives after that perfection which shall ensure the perpetuity of human thought. Thus a book, clothed in morocco, is not a mere piece of mechanism, but a vehicle in which the intellectual life of writers no longer on earth is transmitted from age to age. And it is the art of book-binding which renders libraries possible. What the author, the printer, and the binder create, the library takes charge of and preserves. It is thus that the material and the practical link themselves indissolubly with the ideal. And the ideal of every true librarian should be so to care for the embodiments of intelligence entrusted to his guardianship, that they may become in the highest degree useful to mankind. In this sense, the care bestowed upon thorough and enduring binding can hardly be overrated, since the life of the book depends upon it.

CHAPTER 4.

Preparation for the Shelves: Book Plates, etc.

When any lot of books is acquired, whether by purchase from book-dealers or from auction, or by presentation, the first step to be taken, after seeing that they agree with the bill, and have been collated, in accordance with methods elsewhere given, should be to stamp and label each volume, as the property of the library. These two processes are quite distinct, and may be performed by one or two persons, according to convenience, or to the library force employed. The stamp may be the ordinary rubber one, inked by striking on a pad, and ink of any color may be used, although black or blue ink has the neatest appearance. The stamp should bear the name of the library, in clear, legible, plain type, with year of acquisition of the book in the centre, followed by the month and day if desired. A more permanent kind of stamp is the embossing stamp, which is a steel die, the letters cut in relief, but it is very expensive and slow, requiring the leaf to be inserted between the two parts of the stamp, though the impression, once made, is practically indelible.

The size of the stamp (which is preferably oval in shape) should not exceed 1¼ to 1½ inches in diameter, as a large, coarse stamp never presents a neat appearance on a book. Indeed, many books are too small to admit any but a stamp of very moderate dimensions. The books should be stamped on the verso (reverse) of the title page, or if preferred, on the widest unprinted portion of the title-page, preferably on the right hand of the centre, or just below the centre on the right. This, because its impression is far more legible on the plain white surface than on any part of the printed title. In a circulating library, the stamps should be impressed on one or more pages in the body of the book, as well as on the last page, as a means of identification if the book is stolen or otherwise lost; as it is very easy to erase the impression of a rubber stamp from the title-page, and thereby commit a fraud by appropriating or selling the book. In such a case, the duplicate or triplicate impression of the stamp on some subsequent page (say page 5 or 16, many books having but few pages) as fixed upon by the librarian, is quite likely to escape notice of the thief, while it remains a safe-guard, enabling the librarian to reclaim the book, wherever found. The law will enforce this right of free reclamation in favor of a public library, in the case of stolen books, no matter in what hands found, and even though the last holder may be an innocent purchaser. All libraries are victimized at some time by unscrupulous or dishonest readers, who will appropriate books, thinking themselves safe from detection, and sometimes easing their consciences, (if they have any) by the plea that the book is in a measure public property.

In these cases, there is no absolute safe-guard, as it is easy to carry off a book under one's coat, and the librarian and his few aids are far too busy to act as detectives in watching readers. Still, a vigilant librarian will almost always find out, by some suspicious circumstance—such as the hiding of books away, or a certain furtive action observed in a reader—who are the persons that should be watched, and when it is advisable to call in the policeman.

The British Museum Library, which has no circulation or book lending, enforces a rule that no one making his exit can have a book with him, unless checked as his own property, all overcoats and other wraps being of course checked at the door.

It is a melancholy fact, duly recorded in a Massachusetts paper, that no less than two hundred and fifty volumes, duly labeled and stamped as public library books, were stolen from a single library in a single year, and sold to second-hand booksellers.

The impression of the stamp in the middle of a certain page, known to the librarian, renders it less liable to detection by others, while if stamped on the lower unprinted margin, it might be cut out by a designing person.

Next to the stamping, comes the labeling of the books to be added to the library. This is a mechanical process, and yet one of much importance. Upon its being done neatly and properly, depends the good or bad appearance of the library books, as labels with rough or ragged edges, or put on askew, or trimmed irregularly at their margins, present an ugly and unfinished aspect, offensive to the eye of good taste, and reflecting discredit on the management. A librarian should take pride in seeing all details of his work carefully and neatly carried out. If he cannot have perfection, from want of time, he should always aim at it, at least, and then only will he come near to achieving it.

The label, or book-plate (for they are one and the same thing) should be of convenient size to go into books both small and large; and a good size is approximately 2¼ inches wide by 1½ inches high when trimmed. As comparatively few libraries care to go to the expense, which is about ten times that of printing, of an engraved label (although such work adds to the attractiveness of the books containing it) it should be printed in clear, not ornamental type, with the name of the library, that of the city or town in which it is located (unless forming a part of the title) and the abbreviation No. for number, with such other spaces for section marks or divisions, shelf-marks, etc., as the classification adopted may require. The whole should be enclosed in an ornamental border—not too ornate for good taste.

The labels, nicely trimmed to uniform size by a cutting machine, (if that is not in the library equipment, any binder will do it for you) are next to be pasted or gummed, as preferred. This process is a nice one, requiring patience, care, and practice. Most libraries are full of books imperfectly labelled, pasted on in crooked fashion, or perhaps damaging the end-leaves by an over-use of paste, causing the leaves to adhere to the page labelled—which should always be the inside left hand cover of the book. This slovenly work is unworthy of a skilled librarian, who should not suffer torn waste leaves, nor daubs of over-running paste in any of his books. To prevent both these blunders in library economy, it is only needful to instruct any intelligent assistant thoroughly, by practical example how to do it—accompanied by a counter-example how not to do it. The way to do it is to have your paste as thin as that used by binders in pasting their fly-leaves, or their leather, or about the consistency of porridge or pea soup. Then lay the label or book-plate face downward on a board or table covered with blotting paper, dip your paste brush (a half inch bristle brush is the best) in the paste, stroke it (to remove too much adhering matter) on the inner side of your paste cup, then apply it across the whole surface of the label, with light, even strokes of the brush, until you see that it is all moistened with paste. Next, take up the label and lay it evenly in the middle of the left inner cover page of the book to be labelled, and with a small piece of paper (not with the naked fingers) laid over it, stroke it down firmly in its place, by rubbing over a few times the incumbent paper. This being properly done (and it is done by an expert, once learned, very rapidly) your book-plate will be firmly and smoothly pasted in, with no exuding of paste at the edges, to spoil the fly-leaves, and no curling up of edges because insufficiently pasted down.

So much for the book-plate—for the inside of the volumes; now let us turn attention to the outside label. This is necessarily very much smaller than the book-plate: in fact, it should not be larger than three-quarters or seven-eighths of an inch in diameter, and even smaller for the thinner volumes, while in the case of the very smallest, or thinnest of books, it becomes necessary to paste the labels on the side, instead of on the back. This label is to contain the section and shelf-mark of the book, marked by plain figures, according to the plan of classification adopted. When well done, it is an inexpressible comfort to any librarian, because it shows at one glance of the eye, and without opening the book at all, just where in the wide range of the miscellaneous library it is to go. Thus the book service of every day is incalculably aided, and the books are both found when sought on the shelves, and replaced there, with no trouble of opening them.

This outer-label system once established, in strict correspondence with the catalogue, the only part of the librarian's work remaining to be prescribed in this field, concerns the kind of label to be selected, and the method of affixing them to the books. The adhesive gummed labels furnished by the Library Bureau, or those manufactured by the Dennison Company of New York have the requisite qualities for practical use. They may be purchased in sheets, or cut apart, as convenient handling may dictate. Having first written in ink in plain figures, as large as the labels will bear, the proper locality marks, take a label moistener (a hollow tube filled with water, provided with a bit of sponge at the end and sold by stationers) and wet the label throughout its surface, then fix it on the back of the book, on the smooth part of the binding near the lower end, and with a piece of paper (not the fingers) press it down firmly to its place by repeated rubbings. If thoroughly done, the labels will not peel off nor curl up at the edges for a long time. Under much usage of the volumes, however, they must occasionally be renewed.

When the books being prepared for the shelves have all been duly collated, labelled and stamped, processes which should precede cataloguing them, they are next ready for the cataloguer. His functions having been elsewhere described, it need only be said that the books when catalogued and handed over to the reviser, (or whoever is to scrutinize the titles and assign them their proper places in the library classification) are to have the shelf-marks of the card-titles written on the inside labels, as well as upon the outside.

When this is done, the title-cards can be withdrawn and alphabeted in the catalogue drawers. Next, all the books thus catalogued, labelled, and supposed to be ready for the shelves, should be examined with reference to three points:

1st. Whether any of the volumes need re-lettering.

2nd. Whether any of them require re-binding.

3rd. If any of the bindings are in need of repair.

In any lot of books purchased or presented, are almost always to be found some that are wrongly or imperfectly lettered on the back. Before these are ready for the shelves, they should be carefully gone through with, and all errors or shortcomings corrected. It is needful to send to the binder

1st. All books which lack the name of the author on the back. This should be stamped by the binder at the head, if there is room—if not, in the middle panel on the back of the book.

2nd. All books lettered with mis-spelled words.

3rd. All volumes in sets, embracing several distinct works—to have the name of each book in the contents plainly stamped on the outside.

4th. All books wholly without titles on the back, of which many are published—the title being frequently given on the side only, or in the interior alone.

5th. All periodicals having the volume on the back, without the year, to have the year lettered; and periodicals having the year, but not the volume, are to have the number of the volume added.

If these things, all essential to good management and prompt library service, are not done before the books go to their shelves, the chances are that they will not be done at all.

The second requisite to be attended to is to examine whether any of the volumes catalogued require to be bound or re-bound. In any lot of books of considerable extent, there will always be some (especially if from auction sales) dilapidated and shaken, so as to unfit them for use. There will be others so soiled in the bindings or the edges as to be positively shabby, and they should be re-bound to render them presentable.

The third point demanding attention is to see what volumes need repair. It very often happens that books otherwise pretty well bound have torn corners, or rubbed or shop-worn backs, or shabby marbled paper frayed at the sides, or some other defect, which may be cured by mending or furbishing up, without re-binding. This a skilful binder is always competent to take in charge; and as in the other cases, it should have attention immediately upon the acquisition of the books.

All books coming into a library which contain autographs, book-plates of former owners, coats of arms, presentation inscriptions from the author, monograms, or other distinguishing features, should preserve them as of interest to the present or the future.

And all printed paper covers should be carefully preserved by binding them inside the new cover which the book receives, thus preserving authentic evidence of the form in which the book was first issued to the public, and often its original price. In like manner, when a cloth-bound book comes to re-binding, its side and back covers may be bound in at the end of the book, as showing the style in which it was originally issued, frequently displaying much artistic beauty.

Whoever receives back any books which have been out in circulation, whether it be the librarian or assistant, must examine each volume, to see if it is in apparent good order. If it is found (as frequently happens) that it is shaky and loose, or if leaves are ready to drop out, or if the cover is nearly off, it should never be allowed to go back to the shelves, but laid aside for re-binding or repair with the next lot sent to the binder. Only prompt vigilance on this point, combined with the requirement of speedy return by the binder, will save the loss or injury beyond repair of many books. It will also save the patrons of the library from the frequent inconvenience of having to do without books, which should be on the shelves for their use. How frequent this sending of books to repair should be, cannot be settled by any arbitrary rule; but it would be wise, in the interest of all, to do it as often as two or three dozen damaged books are accumulated.

If you find other injury to a book returned, than the natural wear and tear that the library must assume, if a book, for example, is blotched with ink, or soiled with grease, or has been so far wet as to be badly stained in the leaves, or if it is found torn in any part on a hasty inspection, or if a plate or a map is missing, or the binding is violently broken (as sometimes happens) then the damage should be borne by the reader, and not by the library. This will sometimes require the purchase of a fresh copy of the book, which no fair-minded reader can object to pay, who is favored with the privileges of free enjoyment of the treasures of a public library. Indeed, it will be found in the majority of cases that honest readers themselves call attention to such injuries as books have accidentally received while in their possession, with voluntary offer to make good the damage.

All unbound or paper covered volumes should be reserved from the shelves, and not supplied to readers until bound. This rule may be relaxed (as there is almost no rule without some valid exception) in the case of a popular new book, issued only in paper covers, if it is desired to give an opportunity of early perusal to readers frequenting the library. But such books should not be permitted to circulate, as they would soon be worn to pieces by handling. Only books dressed in a substantial covering are fit to be loaned out of any library. In preparing for the bindery any new books, or old ones to be re-bound or repaired, lists should be made of any convenient number set apart for the purpose, prompt return should be required, and all should be checked off on the list when returned.

No shelf in a well-regulated library should be unprovided with book-supports, in order to prevent the volumes from sagging and straining by falling against one another, in a long row of books. Numerous different devices are in the market for this purpose, from the solid brick to the light sheet-iron support; but it is important to protect the end of every row from strain on the bindings, and the cost of book supports is indefinitely less than that of the re-binding entailed by neglecting to use them.

Some libraries of circulation make it a rule to cover all their books with paper or thin muslin covers, before they are placed on the shelves for use. This method has its advantages and its drawbacks. It doubtless protects the bindings from soiling, and where books circulate widely and long, no one who has seen how foul with dirt they become, can doubt the expediency of at least trying the experiment of clean covers. They should be of the firmest thin but tough Manila paper, and it is claimed that twenty renewals of clean paper covers actually cost less than one re-binding. On the other hand, it is not to be denied that books thus covered look shabby, monotonous, and uninteresting. In the library used for reference and reading only, without circulation, covers are quite out of place.

Book-plates having been briefly referred to above, a few words as to their styles and uses may here be pertinent. The name "book-plate" is a clumsy and misleading title, suggesting to the uninitiated the illustrations or plates which embellish the text of a book. The name Ex libris, two latin words used for book-plate in all European languages, is clearer, but still not exact, as a definition of the thing, signifying simply "out of books." A book-plate is the owner's or the library's distinctive mark of ownership, pasted upon the inside cover, whether it be a simple name-label, or an elaborately engraved heraldic or pictorial device. The earliest known book-plates date back to the fifteenth century, and are of German origin, though English plates are known as early as 1700. In France, specimens appear for the first time between 1600 and 1650.

Foreign book-plates are, as a rule, heraldic in design, as are also the early American plates, representing the coat of arms or family crest of the owner of the books, with a motto of some kind. The fashion of collecting these owners' marks, as such, irrespective of the books containing them, is a recent and very possibly a passing mania. Still, there is something of interest in early American plates, and in those used by distinguished men, aside from the collector's fad. Some of the first American engravers showed their skill in these designs, and a signed and dated plate engraved by Nathaniel Hurd, for example, of Boston, is of some historic value as an example of early American art. He engraved many plates about the middle of the last century, and died in 1777. Paul Revere, who was an engraver, designed and executed some few plates, which are rare, and highly prized, more for his name than for his skill, for, as generally known, he was a noted patriot of the Revolutionary period, belonging by his acts to the heroic age of American history.

A book of George Washington's containing his book-plate has an added interest, though the plate itself is an armorial design, not at all well executed. Its motto is "exitus acta probat"—the event justifies the deed. From its rarity and the high price it commands, it has probably been the only American book-plate ever counterfeited. At an auction sale of books in Washington in 1863, this counterfeit plate had been placed in many books to give a fictitious value, but the fraud was discovered and announced by the present writer, just before the books were sold. Yet the sale was attended by many attracted to bid upon books said to have been owned by Washington, and among them the late Dr. W. F. Poole, then librarian of the Boston Athenaeum, which possesses most of the library authentically known to have been at Mount Vernon.

John Adams and John Quincy Adams used book-plates, and James Monroe and John Tyler each had a plain name-label. These are all of our presidents known to have used them, except General Garfield, who had a printed book-plate of simple design, with the motto "inter folia fructus." Eleven of the signers of the Declaration of Independence are known to have had these signs of gentle birth—for in the early years of the American Colonies, it was only the families of aristocratic connection and scholarly tastes who indulged in what may be termed a superfluous luxury.

The plates used among the Southern settlers were generally ordered from England, and not at all American. The Northern plates were more frequently of native design and execution, and therefore of much greater value and interest, though far inferior in style of workmanship and elaboration of ornament to the best European ones.

The ordinary library label is also a book-plate, and some of the early libraries and small collections have elaborate designs. The early Harvard College library plate was a large and fine piece of engraving by Hurd. The Harvard Library had some few of this fine engraved label printed in red ink, and placed in the rarer books of the library—as a reminder that the works containing the rubricated book-plates were not to be drawn out by students.

The learned bibliophile and librarian of Florence, Magliabecchi, who died in 1714, devised for his library of thirty thousand volumes, which he bequeathed to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, a book-plate representing his own profile on a medal surrounded with books and oak boughs, with the inscription—"Antonius Magliabecchius Florentinus."

Some book-plates embody designs of great beauty. The late George Bancroft's, engraved on copper, represented a winged cherub (from Raphael) gazing sun-ward, holding a tablet with the inscription "Eis phaos," toward the light.

Some French book-plates aim at humor or caricature. One familiar example represents an old book-worm mounted on a tall ladder in a library, profoundly absorbed in reading, and utterly unconscious that the room beneath him is on fire.

To those who ask of what possible utility it can be to cultivate so unfruitful a pursuit as the devising or the collecting of book-plates, it may be pertinent to state the claim made in behalf of the amateurs of this art, by a connoisseur, namely, "Book-plates foster the study of art, history, genealogy, and human character." On this theory, we may add, the coat of arms or family crest teaches heraldry; the mottoes or inscriptions chosen cultivate the taste for language and sententious literature; the engraving appeals to the sense of the artistic; the names of early or ancient families who are often thus commemorated teach biography, history, or genealogy; while the great variety of sentiments selected for the plates illustrate the character and taste of those selecting them.

On the other hand, it must be said that the coat of arms fails to indicate individual taste or genius, and might better be supplanted by original and characteristic designs, especially such as relate to books, libraries, and learning.