who had succeeded to a fine
collection of old books, promised to send some of the most valuable
(among which were several Caxtons) to the Exhibition at South
Kensington. Thinking their outward appearance too shabby, and not
knowing the danger of his conduct, he decided to have them rebound
in the neighbouring county town. The volumes were soon returned in a
resplendent state, and, it is said, quite to the satisfaction of his
lordship, whose pleasure, however, was sadly damped when a friend
pointed out to him that, although the discoloured edges had all been
ploughed off, and the time-stained blanks, with their fifteenth century
autographs, had been replaced by nice clean fly-leaves, yet, looking at
the result in its lowest aspect only--that of market value--the books
had been damaged to at least the amount of L500; and, moreover,
that caustic remarks would most certainly follow upon their public
exhibition. Those poor injured volumes were never sent.

Some years ago one of the most rare books printed by Machlinia--a thin
folio--was discovered bound in sheep by a country bookbinder, and cut
down to suit the size of some quarto tracts. But do not let us suppose
that country binders are the only culprits. It is not very long since
the discovery of a unique Caxton in one of our largest London libraries.
It was in boards, as originally issued by the fifteenth-century binder,
and a great fuss (very properly) was made over the treasure trove. Of
course, cries the reader, it was kept in its original covers, with
all the interesting associations of its early state untouched? No such
thing! Instead of making a suitable case, in which it could be preserved
just as it was, it was placed in the hands of a well-known London
binder, with the order, "Whole bind in velvet." He did his best, and
the volume now glows luxuriously in its gilt edges and its inappropriate
covering, and, alas! with half-an-inch of its uncut margin taken off all
round. How do I know that? because the clever binder, seeing some MS.
remarks on one of the margins, turned the leaf down to avoid cutting
them off, and that stern witness will always testify, to the observant
reader, the original size of the book. This same binder, on another
occasion, placed a unique fifteenth century Indulgence in warm water,
to separate it from the cover upon which it was pasted, the result being
that, when dry, it was so distorted as to be useless. That man soon
after passed to ano