human
The rough edge, which was a necessity when every sheet of paper was finished by hand labour, is now imitated successfully by machinery, and is handled lovingly by the bookworm of to-day, regardless of the fact that these roughened sheets can be bought by the pound in Drury-lane. The worst, and last fraud (I can call it no less) that can be referred to here is, that the clothing--the
gpt
--that appropriately encloses our modern _édition de luxe_ is made from pulp, rags, and other _débris_. That the gold illuminations on the cover are no longer real gold, and that the handsomely bound book, with its fair margins, cracks in half with a