certainly, the latter part of the advice is very good, and, though written by a man in the dark ages, is not unworthy of consideration in these enlightened times. There was, in many monasteries, a room specially devoted to employment of the highest value. This was the _scriptorium_, or writing-room. After the twelfth century, small cells, only capable of accommodating a single person, were used by the monastic scribes; but, at an earlier period, one large apartment was appropriated to their use. "Meanwhile, along the cloister's painted side The monks, each bending low upon his book, With head on hand reclined, their studies plied, Forbid to parley, or in front to look; Lengthways their regulated seats they took. The strutting prior gazed, with pompous mien, And wakeful tongue prepared with prompt rebuke; If monk asleep in sheltering hood were seen, He wary often peep'd beneath that russet screen. "Hard by, against the window's adverse light, Where desks were wont in length of row to stand, The gown'd artificers inclined to write, The pen of silver glisten'd in their hand; Some on their fingers rhyming Latin scann'd, Some textile gold from halls unwinding drew, And on strain'd velvet stately portraits plann'd; Here arms, there faces shone, in embryo view, At last to glittering life the total figures grew." The last stanza describes the business carried on in the scriptorium, and may help the reader, the next time he visits the ruins of an old monastery, and sees among the mouldering remains, the traces of such an apartment, to picture to himself the scene which enlivened that spot when the abbey walls, now covered with moss, appeared in all their stately pride. Deep silence, as the above description indicates, was observed by the monks, when carrying on their studies and their writing; and, to prevent its being broken, they were required to adopt a whimsical system of communication with each other respecting anything they wanted. "Of course there was a sign for a book. For a book, in general, they were to extend their hand, and move it, as if turning over the leaf of a book. The general sign being made, another was added to distinguish the sort of book wanted; and there were distinct signs for the Missal, the Gospels, the Epistolary, the Psalter, the Rule, and so on; but to distinguish a book written by a heathen, the monk was to scratch his ear like a dog."[5]