ul sprays
of double and single roses, outlined in gold and coloured red, with buds
and leaves. A few symmetrical arabesques, similarly outlined and
coloured, fill in some of the remaining spaces. The work on this book, a
_New Testament in Greek_, printed at Leyden in 1576, is like no other;
but the general idea of the design, rose-sprays cleverly intertwined, is
one that may be considered characteristic of the Elizabethan embroidered
books, as it frequently occurs on them. The use of water-colour with
embroidery is very rare, and it is never found on any but silk or satin
bindings, generally as an adjunct in support of coloured-silk work over
it, but in this single instance it is used alone.

_Seventeenth-Century Embroidered Books._

The books described hitherto have been specimens of rare early
instances, but in the seventeenth century there is a very large field to
choose from. Small books, mostly religious works, were bound in satin
from the beginning of the century until the time of the Commonwealth in
considerable numbers; so much so, in fact, that their value depends not
so much upon their designs or workmanship as upon their condition.

It is generally considered that embroidered books are extremely
delicate, but this is not so; they will stand far more wear than would
be imagined from their frail appearance. The embroidered work actually
protects the satin, and such signs of wear as are visible are often
found rather in the satin itself, where unprotected, than in the work
upon it. In many cases a peculiar appearance, which is often mistaken
for wear, is seen in the case of representations of insects,
caterpillars, or butterflies particularly. These creatures, or parts of
them, appear to consist only of slight stitches of plain thread,
suggesting either that the work has never been finished, or else that
the finished portions have worn away. The real fact is, however, that
these places have been originally worked with small bright pieces of
peacock's feather, which have either tumbled out or been eaten away by
minute insects, a fate to which it is well known peacocks' feathers are
particularly liable.

The late Lady Charlotte Schreiber, who was a great collector of pieces
of old embroidery, among a host of other curious things possessed the
only perfect instance of work of this kind of the seventeenth century I
have ever been fortunate enough to find. It was a very realistic
caterpillar, closely and comple