much harm, though he will sometimes nibble the binding of books,
especially if they rest upon the floor.

Not so fortunate, however, are our American cousins, for in
the "Library Journal" for September, 1879, Mr. Weston Flint
gives an account of a dreadful little pest which commits
great havoc upon the cloth bindings of the New York libraries.
It is a small black-beetle or cockroach, called by scientists
"Blatta germanica" and by others the "Croton Bug." Unlike our
household pest, whose home is the kitchen, and whose bashfulness
loves secrecy and the dark hours, this misgrown flat species,
of which it would take two to make a medium-sized English
specimen, has gained in impudence what it has lost in size,
fearing neither light nor noise, neither man nor beast.
In the old English Bible of 1551, we read in Psalm xci, 5,
"Thou shalt not nede to be afraied for eny Bugges by night."
This verse falls unheeded on the ear of the Western librarian
who fears his "bugs" both night and day, for they crawl over
everything in broad sunlight, infesting and infecting each corner
and cranny of the bookshelves they choose as their home.
There is a remedy in the powder known as insecticide, which,
however, is very disagreeable upon books and shelves.
It is, nevertheless, very fatal to these pests, and affords
some consolation in the fact that so soon as a "bug" shows
any signs of illness, he is devoured at once by his voracious
brethren with the same relish as if he were made of fresh paste.

There is, too, a small silvery insect (Lepisma) which I have
often seen in the backs of neglected books, but his ravages
are not of much importance.