the precaution of making two self-acting ventilators which communicated
directly with the outer air just under the ceiling. For economy of
space as well as of temper (for lamps of all kinds are sore trials),
I had a gasalier of three lights over the table. The effect was to
cause great heat in the upper regions, and in the course of a year or
two the leather valance which hung from the window, as well as the
fringe which dropped half-an-inch from each shelf to keep out the dust,
was just like tinder, and in some parts actually fell to the ground by
its own weight; while the backs of the books upon the top shelves were
perished, and crumbled away when touched, being reduced to the consistency
of Scotch snuff. This was, of course, due to the sulphur in the gas
fumes, which attack russia quickest, while calf and morocco suffer not
quite so much. I remember having a book some years ago from the top
shelf in the library of the London Institution, where gas is used, and
the whole of the back fell off in my hands, although the volume in other
respects seemed quite uninjured. Thousands more were in a similar plight.

As the paper of the volumes is uninjured, it might be objected that,
after all, gas is not so much the enemy of the book itself as of its
covering; but then, re-binding always leaves a book smaller, and often
deprives it of leaves at the beginning or end, which the binder's wisdom
has thought useless. Oh! the havoc I have seen committed by binders.
You may assume your most impressive aspect--you may write down your
instructions as if you were making your last will and testament--you may
swear you will not pay if your books are ploughed--'tis all in vain--the
creed of a binder is very short, and comprised in a single article,
and that article is the one vile word "Shavings." But not now will I
follow this depressing subject; binders, as enemies of books, deserve,
and shall have, a whole chapter to themselves.