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Susie was enchanted with the strange musty smell of the old books, and she took a first glance at them in general. For the most part they were in paper bindings, some of them neat enough, but more with broken backs and dingy edges; they were set along the shelves in serried rows, untidily, without method or plan.
He had possessed many such books. But it had never occurred to him that the gay bindings of them were each the result of individual human thought and labour. He pulled at his cigarette. There was a sound of pushing and rattling outside. "What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Haim. "It's the area door. I bolted it. I dare say it's Mrs. Lobley," said the girl indifferently. Mr. Haim moved sharply.
During the sprightly chat I could not help glancing from time to time around the great library in which we sat, noting its artistic furnishings, and the rows upon rows of volumes in their costly bindings, which lined the walls. One appreciates what Dr.
She was going from her own room with the books in her hand to place them on George's table, where he might find them on his return from school, when in the passage, she and her mother met. The gilt bindings of the seven handsome little volumes caught the old lady's eye. "What are those?" she said. "Some books for Georgy," Amelia replied "I I promised them to him at Christmas."
The books were spread out on his table, where they held a sort of levee; every book-fancier in all Newport had to call and pay his respects to the rare volumes and to the choice English bindings. "A nice present that," said Philip's father, as he sipped his champagne at dinner on the day after the son's return with the books.
Who in the world could wish to read these hundreds of volumes? For all their beautiful bindings she had a conviction that the contents would be appallingly dull; and her eyes fled gladly to the more congenial scene outside the windows where the flowers danced gaily in the sunshine and a little skiff floated by on the shimmering river, like some magic boat gliding to a haven in fairyland.
It was a large and simply furnished room, but there was a tone of austere harmony in all its appointments. The dark oak table, rows of old books in faded leather bindings, antique lamps, and straight-backed chairs were in keeping with the severe lines of the sombre panels and the heavy, square moulding of the ceiling.
Who was she, to wriggle herself into an old family and property? Had she been born to such things? She would teach her who she was! When dependents began to presume, it was time they had a lesson. Letty could not bear the sight of the books and their shelves; the very beauty of the bindings was a reproach to her.
As these very books seem all the better in their dingy bindings, so do the old ideas, the odd conceits, the stories that charmed dead generations, take on a keener zest when clothed in the formal language of other days. If we want to get that formal language in all its glory, let us bring from the library a copy of some early eighteenth-century tragedy.
A book too was so prized, that people liked to ornament it as much as possible, and many of these written or manuscript books, which means written by hand, had not only beautiful pictures in them, but were bound in rich bindings, sometimes silk embroidered with gold and silver thread, and sometimes even the backs were of beautifully carved ivory, or adorned with filagree work, and pearls, and precious stones.
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