many English homes, the Library is no more than this, and each
generation passes without adding a book, except now and then a
Bradshaw or a railway novel, to the collection on the shelves. The
success, perhaps, of circulating libraries, or, it may be, the Aryan
tendencies of our race, "which does not read, and lives in the open
air," have made books the rarest of possessions in many houses.
There are relics of the age before circulating libraries, there are
fragments of the lettered store of some scholarly great-grandfather,
and these, with a few odd numbers of magazines, a few primers and
manuals, some sermons and novels, make up the ordinary library of an
English household. But the amateur, whom we have in our thoughts,
can never be satisfied with these commonplace supplies. He has a
taste for books more or less rare, and for books neatly bound; in
short, for books, in the fabrication of which ART has not been
absent. He loves to have his study, like Montaigne's, remote from
the interruption of servants, wife, and children; a kind of shrine,
where he may be at home with himself, with the illustrious dead, and
with the genius of literature. The room may look east, west, or
south, provided that it be dry, warm, light, and airy. Among the
many enemies of books the first great foe is DAMP, and we must
describe the necessary precautions to be taken against this peril.
We will suppose that the amateur keeps his ordinary working books,
modern tomes, and all that serve him as literary tools, on open
shelves. These may reach the roof, if he has books to fill them,
and it is only necessary to see that the back of the bookcases are
slightly removed from contact with the walls. The more precious and
beautifully bound treasures will naturally be stored in a case with
closely-fitting glass-doors. {2} The shelves should be lined with
velvet or chamois leather, that the delicate edges of the books may
not suffer from contact with the wood. A leather lining, fitted to