ory Museum of the
Devon and Exeter Institution is a specimen of "another little pest,
which has a great affection for bindings in calf and roan. Its
scientific name is Niptus Hololeucos." He adds, "Are you aware that
there was a terrible creature allied to these, rejoicing in the name
of Tomicus Typographus, which committed sad ravages in Germany in
the seventeenth century, and in the old liturgies of that country is
formally mentioned under its vulgar name, 'The Turk'?" (See Kirby and
Spence, Seventh Edition, 1858, p. 123.) This is curious, and I did not
know it, although I know well that Typographus Tomicus, or the "cutting
printer," is a sad enemy of (good) books. Upon this part of our subject,
however, I am debarred entering.

The following is from W. J. Westbrook, Mus. Doe., Cantab., and
represents ravages with which I am personally unacquainted:

"Dear Blades,--I send you an example of the 'enemy'-mosity of an
ordinary housefly. It hid behind the paper, emitted some caustic fluid,
and then departed this life. I have often caught them in such holes.'
30/12/83." The damage is an oblong hole, surrounded by a white fluffy
glaze (fungoid?), difficult to represent in a woodcut. The size here
given is exact.

CHAPTER VIII. BOOKBINDERS.

IN the first chapter I mentioned bookbinders among the Enemies of Books,
and I tremble to think what a stinging retort might be made if some
irate bibliopegist were to turn the scales on the printer, and place HIM
in the same category. On the sins of printers, and the unnatural neglect
which has often shortened the lives of their typographical progeny, it
is not for me to dilate. There is an old proverb, "'Tis an ill bird
that befouls its own nest"; a curious chapter thereupon, with many
modern examples, might nevertheless be written. This I will leave, and
will now only place on record some of the cruelties perpetrated upon
books by the ignorance or carelessness of binders.

Like men, books have a soul and body. With the soul, or literary
portion, we have nothing to do at present; the body, which is the outer
frame or covering, and without which the inner would be unusable, is the
special work of the binder. He, so to speak, begets it; he determines
its form and adornment, he doctors it in disease and decay, and, not
unseldom, dissects it after death. Here, too, as through all Nature, we
find the good and bad running side by side. What a treat it is to
handle a well-bound vol