line-engravings would be out of place among those bank-note paper leaves with their handsome greatprimer type. This question of seemliness, too, must be considered carefully ere we add a single plate to any volume. Not every engraving, however beautiful in design and impression, is at once suitable to every book that treats of the subject it depicts. That the illustrations be contemporary with the text goes without saying. No one would be so foolish as to insert modern 'halftone' illustrations in a seventeenth-century book.

That heading 'Extra-illustrated,' so dear to certain booksellers, must send a shudder through many of the discerning readers of their catalogues. Books that are extra-illustrated should be avoided by the collector on principle. There is something fantastically egotistical in seeking (by those who have no knowledge of book-production) to 'improve' the work of other men whose business is the making of books. There can be no necessity for it; the author is quite sure to have added the illustrations that are requisite for the volume. It is only books that were published without illustrations that we are justified in attempting to embellish. Illustrations in a book are invariably a question of the author's and publisher's tastes; the cost of their production is not usually an allimportant item: it is the setting up of the type, the paper, and the binding that count-not the illustrations.

It was the fashion in the early decades of the last century to issue volumes of engravings suitable for illustrating the works of contemporary writers, such as Byron and Scott: and these illustrations can be used when you have your editions rebound. There is no particular merit about the greater part of them, but they depict incidents described in the text, so at least they are apposite. Each to his taste; we for our part need no second-rate illustrations to help us visualise the glories of Childe Harold or Don Juan; and we have long since confined our Grangerising to the sparing addition of finely engraved portraits to biographical volumes.

'In the name of Christ all men

pray,

No wight this book doth carry away,

By force or theft or any deceit.

Why not? Because no treasure so sweet

As my books, which the grace of Christ display.'

(Written in Latin hexameters at the end of the Leechbook of Bald.)

HERE can be no subject of such prime importance to the collector as the housing of his books. In most cases the books themselves have small say in the matter, for a certain room in the house is allotted to them without any consideration as to its suitability for storing books, and there they must abide, making such shift as their possessor shall determine. This must always be the case where their owner is in lodgings or in any temporary abode, where it is not considered worth while going to the expense of putting up permanent shelves for his books. But, after careless handling, there is

nothing that ruins books more quickly than an indifference to their well-being; and unless our volumes are constantly placed in their proper position, that is upon their feet, they will age speedily and visibly both inside and out.

'The surest way to preserve your books in health is to treat them as you would your own children,' wrote that great bibliophile, William Blades; and the care which should ever be bestowed upon ancient volumes cannot be too strongly emphasised. And it is not only 'ancient' volumes that require attention. Cloth bindings are hardly so durable as leather, and without proper care a library of modern books can be reduced to wreckage in a year. It is just as easy to provide proper accommodation for one's books, wherever one may be living, as it is to provide comforts for oneself. Treat your books well and they will last you all your life, giving pleasure every time that you may take them in your hands. Remember also that although one may judge the propensities of a collector from the titles of his volumes and his character from their contents, yet there is nothing which indicates his habits so surely as the external appearance of his books. Whenever we enter the library of a book-collector we can gauge at once the depths of his feelings. towards books, let alone the extent of his bibliographical knowledge.

Surely no man is such a giant among his

fellows that he may allow the life-works of the greatest geniuses of this world to be spurned underfoot? Take thou a book into thine hands,' wrote Thomas à Kempis, 'as Simeon the Just took the Child Jesus into his arms to carry him and kiss him.'

6

as good

What true book-lover could find it in his heart wantonly to injure a good book? almost kill a Man as kill a good Book,' wrote Milton in that oft-quoted passage in his Areopagitica; 'who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature, God's Image; but hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills Reason itselfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the Earth; but a good Booke is the pretious life-blood of a master spirit, imbalm'd and treasur'd up on purpose to a Life beyond Life.'

It is not only the critic who destroys books, for neglect may approach dangerously near to wanton destruction. At the least, he who regards not the welfare of his books is an accessory before the fact of their destruction. 'Books,' says that veteran bibliophile M. Octave Uzanne, 'are so many faithful and serviceable friends, gently teaching us everything through their persuasive and wise experience.' Surely if good books are so much to us, such a great part of our lives, it behoves us to respect them not a little. Have they not taught us, guided us, advised us, soothed us, and amused us from our youth up?