By gnawing holes throughout them;
Alike, through every leaf they go,
Yet of its merits naught they know,
Nor care they aught about them.

Their tasteless tooth will tear and taint
The Poet, Patriot, Sage or Saint,
Not sparing wit nor learning.
Now, if you'd know the reason why,
The best of reasons I'll supply;
'Tis bread to the poor vermin.

Of pepper, snuff, or 'bacca smoke,
And Russia-calf they make a joke.
Yet, why should sons of science
These puny rankling reptiles dread?
'Tis but to let their books be read,
And bid the worms defiance."
J. DORASTON.

A most destructive Enemy of books has been the bookworm.
I say "has been," because, fortunately, his ravages in all civilised
countries have been greatly restricted during the last fifty years.
This is due partly to the increased reverence for antiquity which has
been universally developed--more still to the feeling of cupidity,
which has caused all owners to take care of volumes which year
by year have become more valuable--and, to some considerable extent,
to the falling off in the production of edible books.

The monks, who were the chief makers as well as the custodians of books,