they are fastened to the books may be rivetted on such a part of the cover, and so smoothly, as not to gall or graze the books, while they are moved to or from their respective places.  And forasmuch as the more convenient way to place books in libraries is to turn their backs out showing the title and other decent ornaments in gilt work which ought not to be hidden, this new method of fixing the chain to the back of the book is recommended until one more suitable shall be contrived.”

Numerous monasteries in England devoted much time to scriptorium work.  In Gloucester may still be seen the carrels of the scribes in the cloister wall, and there was also much activity in the book making art in Norwich, Glastonbury, and Winchester, and in other cities.  The two monasteries of St. Peter and St. Swithin in Winchester were, the chronicler says, “so close packed together,... that between the foundation of their respective buildings there was barely room for a man to pass along.  The choral service of one monastery conflicted with that of the other, so that both were spoiled, and the ringing of their bells together produced a horrid effect.”

One of the most important monasteries of early times, on the Continent, was that conducted by Alcuin, under the protection of Charlemagne.  When the appointed time for writing came round, the monks filed into the scriptorium, taking their places at their desks.  One of their number then stood in the midst, and read aloud, slowly, for dictation, the work upon which they were engaged as copyists; in this way, a score of copies could be made at one time.  Alcuin himself would pass about among them, making suggestions and correcting errors, a beautiful example of true consecration, the great scholar spending his time thus in supervising the transcription of the Word of God, from a desire to have it spread far and wide.  Alcuin sent a letter to Charlemagne, accompanying a present of a copy of the Bible, at the time of the emperor’s coronation, and from this letter, which is still preserved, it may be seen how reverent a spirit his was, and how he esteemed the things of the spiritual life as greater than the riches of the world.  “After deliberating a long while,” he writes, “what the devotion of my mind might find worthy of a present equal to the splendour of your Imperial dignity, and the increase of your wealth,—­at length by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, I found what it would be competent for me to offer, and fitting for your prudence to accept.  For to me inquiring and considering, nothing appeared more worthy of your peaceful honour than the gifts of the Sacred Scriptures... which, knit together in the sanctity of one glorious body, and diligently amended, I have sent to your royal authority, by this your faithful son and servant, so that with full hands we may assist at the delightful service of your dignity.”  One of Alcuin’s mottoes was:  “Writing books is better than planting vines:  for he who plants a vine serves his belly, while he who writes books serves his soul.”