one of the monks whose countenance attracted him, and begged him
to have the kindness to show him the library. `See for yourself,'
said the monk, brusquely, pointing at the same time to an old
stone staircase, broken with age. Boccaccio hastily mounted
in great joy at the prospect of a grand bibliographical treat.
Soon he reached the room, which was without key or even door
as protection to its treasures. What was his astonishment to see
that the grass growing in the window-sills actually darkened the room,
and that all the books and seats were an inch thick in dust.
In utter astonishment he lifted one book after another. All were
manuscripts of extreme antiquity, but all were dreadfully dilapidated.
Many had lost whole sections which had been violently extracted,
and in many all the blank margins of the vellum had been cut away.
In fact, the mutilation was thorough.

"Grieved at seeing the work and the wisdom of so many illustrious men
fallen into the hands of custodians so unworthy, Boccaccio descended
with tears in his eyes. In the cloisters he met another monk,
and enquired of him how the MSS. had become so mutilated.
`Oh!' he replied, `we are obliged, you know, to earn a few sous
for our needs, so we cut away the blank margins of the manuscripts
for writing upon, and make of them small books of devotion,
which we sell to women and children."

As a postscript to this story, Mr. Timmins, of Birmingham,
informs me that the treasures of the Monte Cassino Library are
better cared for now than in Boccaccio's days, the worthy prior
being proud of his valuable MSS. and very willing to show them.
It will interest many readers to know that there is now a complete
printing office, lithographic as well as typographic, at full work