In the old English Bible of 1551, we read in Psalm xci, 5,
"Thou shalt not nede to be afraied for eny Bugges by night."
This verse falls unheeded on the ear of the Western librarian
who fears his "bugs" both night and day, for they crawl over
everything in broad sunlight, infesting and infecting each corner
and cranny of the bookshelves they choose as their home.
There is a remedy in the powder known as insecticide, which,
however, is very disagreeable upon books and shelves.
It is, nevertheless, very fatal to these pests, and affords
some consolation in the fact that so soon as a "bug" shows
any signs of illness, he is devoured at once by his voracious
brethren with the same relish as if he were made of fresh paste.
There is, too, a small silvery insect (Lepisma) which I have
often seen in the backs of neglected books, but his ravages
are not of much importance.
Nor can we reckon the Codfish as very dangerous to literature, unless,
indeed, he be of the Roman obedience, like that wonderful
Ichthiobibliophage (pardon me, Professor Owen) who, in the year 1626,
swallowed three Puritanical treatises of John Frith, the Protestant
martyr. No wonder, after such a meal, he was soon caught, and became
famous in the annals of literature.
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