arian practice,
though it professes to avoid ornament, still clings to a foolish,
because misunderstood conventionality, deduced from what was once
ornament, and is by no means useful; which title can only be claimed by
artistic practice, whether the art in it be conscious or unconscious.

In no characters is the contrast between the ugly and vulgar
illegibility of the modern type and the elegance and legibility of the
ancient more striking than in the Arabic numerals. In the old print each
figure has its definite individuality, and one cannot be mistaken for
the other; in reading the modern figures the eyes must be strained
before the reader can have any reasonable assurance that he has a 5, an
8, or a 3 before him, unless the press work is of the best; this is
awkward if you have to read Bradshaw's Guide in a hurry.

One of the differences between the fine type and the utilitarian must
probably be put down to a misapprehension of a commercial necessity:
this is the narrowing of the modern letters. Most of Jenson's letters
are designed within a square, the modern letters are narrowed by a third
or thereabout; but while this gain of space very much hampers the
possibility of beauty of design, it is not a real gain, for the modern
printer throws the gain away by putting inordinately wide spaces between
his lines, which, probably, the lateral compression of his letters
renders necessary. Commercialism again compels the use of type too small
in size to be comfortable reading: the size known as "Long primer" ought
to be the smallest size used in a book meant to be read. Here, again, if
the practice of "leading" were retrenched larger type could be used
without enhancing the price of a book.

One very important matter in "setting up" for fine printing is the
"spacing," that is, the lateral distance of words from one another. In
good printing the spaces between the words should be as near as
possible equal (it is impossible that they should be quite equal except
in lines of poetry); modern printers understand this, but it is only
practised in the very best establishments. But another point which they
should attend to they almost always disregard; this is the tendency to
the formation of ugly meandering white lines or "rivers" in the page, a
blemish which can be nearly, though not wholly, avoided by care and
forethought, the desirable thing being "the breaking of the line" as in
bonding masonry or brickwork, thus: [Illustrat