This was, of course, due to the sulphur in the gas fumes.

I remember having a book some years ago from the top shelf in the library of the London Institution, where gas is used, and the whole of the back fell off in my hands, although the volume in other respects seemed quite uninjured.

Thousands more were in a similar plight.
As the paper of the volumes is uninjured, it might be objected that, after all, gas is not so much the enemy of the book itself as of its covering; but then, re-binding always leaves a book smaller, and often deprives it of leaves at the beginning or end, which the binder's wisdom has thought useless.

Oh! the havoc I have seen committed by binders.
You may assume your most impressive aspect--you may write down your instructions as if you were making your last will and testament--you may swear you will not pay if your books are ploughed--'tis all in vain--the creed of a binder is very short, and comprised in a single article, and that article is the one vile word "Shavings." But not now will I follow this depressing subject; binders, as enemies of books, deserve, and shall have, a whole chapter to themselves.
It is much easier to decry gas than to find a remedy.

Sun lights require especial arrangements, and are very expensive on account of the quantity of gas consumed.