Let it, however, be granted, for the purposes of the present argument, that we now, having a clearer perception of our responsibilities, only allow comparatively worthless manuscripts to be sent to France, to Germany, Russia, or India; for our manuscripts, be it observed, travel as far afield as Bombay. Now what makes a book or manuscript comparatively worthless? It is so, either because it is one of many copies, or because it is a poor and faulty copy. If it is one of many, why in the name of all that is absurd should we be asked to send our goods away (at our expense and risk let it be remembered) when _ex hypothesi_ there are many other copies in existence? why cannot the foreign student go to some one of those copies? why should we be called on to gratify his laziness or consult his convenience? If the copy be a poor one, he who asks for the loan of it must be a noodle, for who cares for the readings of a confessedly inferior book? Is it not clear as day that the man who at Rome, or Heidelberg, or Bombay, asks for the loan of a manuscript, believes it to be a good and valuable copy? moreover, if he believes so, is it not in the highest degree probable that his judgment is correct, seeing that his attention is in a special manner concentrated on the matter? And if it be a good and valuable copy, what becomes of the plea that we only lend comparatively worthless books? Have we any common sense amongst us? I really confess that there are times when I come to the conclusion that we have none; for if we had, how could we be deceived by pretexts so flimsy and fallacious? All the manuscripts which we now lend are most certainly valuable, and their loss or damage would be irreparable; all talk of comparative worth or worthlessness is futile, and is merely used as so much dust thrown in the eyes of those who (I am sorry to say it, but it must be said) ought to have a higher conception of their duties. 3. Some maintain that MSS. and books should be lent out because 'more work' will be done by that device. It is difficult to see why. It is inferred, in fact, that 'more work' will be done, because it is more convenient to work at home than it is in a library. A partial answer to this fallacious plea has been already given, but I cannot pass over the particular form of it without a protest. The cant that is talked now-a-days about 'work' is enough to make one sick. As far as my experience extends, the very notion of work, as opposed to fidgetty pottering, is not possessed by fifty men in the place; the very conception of thoroughness and comprehension is gone; and as to learning, why the thing has almost vanished; of 'science' we have enough and to spare, but what in the world has become of all our knowledge? Briefly, at the present moment and in this place, all this wretched pretence of 'work' is arrant imposture. A few, and only a few, know what it means, and they would never dream of talking about it.