The policy of buying up all objectionable literature seems to me, I confess, very short-sighted, and in most cases would lead to a greatly increased reprint; it certainly would in these latitudes.

From the Church of Rome to the Church of England is no great leap, and Mr. Smith, the Brighton bookseller, gives evidence thus:—­

“It may be worth your while to note that the clergy of the last two centuries ought to be included in your list (of Biblioclasts).  I have had painful experience of the fact in the following manner.  Numbers of volumes in their libraries have had a few leaves removed, and in many others whole sections torn out.  I suppose it served their purpose thus to use the wisdom of greater men and that they thus economised their own time by tearing out portions to suit their purpose.  The hardship to the trade is this:  their books are purchased in good faith as perfect, and when resold the buyer is quick to claim damage if found defective, while the seller has no redress.”

Among the careless destroyers of books still at work should be classed Government officials.  Cart-loads of interesting documents, bound and unbound, have been sold at various times as waste-paper,[1] when modern red-tape thought them but rubbish.  Some of them have been rescued and resold at high prices, but some have been lost for ever.

[1] Nell Gwyn’s private Housekeeping Book was among them, containing most curious particulars of what was necessary in the time of Charles I for a princely household.  Fortunately it was among the rescued, and is now in a private library.

In 1854 a very interesting series of blue books was commenced by the authorities of the Patent Office, of course paid for out of the national purse.  Beginning with the year 1617 the particulars of every important patent were printed from the original specifications and fac-simile drawings made, where necessary, for the elucidation of the text.  A very moderate price was charged for each, only indeed the prime cost of production.  The general public, of course, cared little for such literature, but those interested in the origin and progress of any particular art, cared much, and many sets of Patents were purchased by those engaged in research.  But the great bulk of the stock was, to some extent, inconvenient, and so when a removal to other offices, in 1879, became necessary, the question arose as to what could be done with them.  These blue-books, which had cost the nation many thousands of pounds, were positively sold to the paper mills as wastepaper, and nearly 100 tons weight were carted away at about L3 per ton.  It is difficult to believe, although positively true, that so great an act of vandalism could have been perpetrated, even in a Government office.  It is true that no demand existed for some of them, but it is equally true that in numerous cases, especially in the early specifications of the steam engine and printing machine, the want of them has caused great disappointment.  To add a climax to the story, many of the “pulped” specifications have had to be reprinted more than once since their destruction.