dth, I effaced the old title, generally
lettered in ink, by means of sorrel-salt, and inscribed the new title in
the same place but with Chinese ink. Where the old title happened to be
gilt, I covered it with a new piece of skin, finding it too laborious to
efface all the letters by the process mentioned above.

Let us suppose it is necessary to replace upon a rare volume, changing
only the boards, the old contemporary binding which covered it. If the
skin is worn on the edges and corners and at the hinges, removing it
without injury from the old boards is a very delicate operation. However,
it may be done, even without moistening the leather, by using the skill
and patience which both come from practice. Our binders, in cases where
expense has not been in consideration, have executed more than one feat of
this kind. Only, nearly always, they are obliged to renew the parts
injured by use and the end papers. They apply, here and there, to the new
boards bits of leather matching the tint of the old, reset the preserved
cover, still charged with the rich ornaments which constitute its value
and, upon the portions renewed, restore the gilding after the model of
that which they have before them. More than one binder has succeeded, with
great skill, in placing upon a new foundation the splendid cover of a very
rare book without being obliged to go to the regrettable extreme of a
second sewing and trimming. It is even possible, with the exercise of
great care, to clean the sheets, one by one, and repair the torn and
missing places, without separating the book; but one can see that such
restorations are a matter of expense and not suitable except for books of
considerable value. I believe that there exist in Paris binders of
sufficient skill to replace a cover "in octavo," transposing it without
injury to the volume and without leaving the least trace of this difficult
operation.

CHAPTER V

_REBINDING_

[Illustration: SOLANDER SLIP-CASE]

In Chapter Thirteen of his _Essai_, Bonnardot remarks:

"When one sees upon the table in a public shop, a rare book roughly sewn,
ignobly deteriorated and, especially, badly cut down, either too much or
unevenly, one may believe that it has passed, at some period, through the
hands of a provincial bookbinder or of one of our Parisian binders of the
lower order, who consider it proper to wrap up a typographical monument of
the Louis XII period in a way to strike off about ninetee