Occasionally these libraries were (I speak of thirty years ago) put even to vile uses, such as would have shocked all ideas of propriety could our ancestors have foreseen their fate.
I recall vividly a bright summer morning many years ago, when, in search of Caxtons, I entered the inner quadrangle of a certain wealthy College in one of our learned Universities.

The buildings around were charming in their grey tones and shady nooks.

They had a noble history, too, and their scholarly sons were (and are) not unworthy successors of their ancestral renown.

The sun shone warmly, and most of the casements were open.

From one came curling a whiff of tobacco; from another the hum of conversation; from a third the tones of a piano.