I never actually saw any philosophy students smoking Gitanes in the Philosophy department lounge--oh, yes, these were the bad old days, when people smoked everywhere--professors in bathrooms and classrooms, students in coffee lounges and corridors.  The only place that was sacred--notice I don't say smoke free--was the library, where old rules prevailed.  There the pledge I took--the oath I swore--to get my library card at the Bodleian Library in Oxford (note: Old Bod) seems to have made the trip to the New World.  Smoke no cigarette, kindle no flame ... so I promised the Earl of Pembroke, who guarded the door. Yes, they had treasures to protect, and there are miles of tunnels with book fetchers among cast iron stacks (book presses) designed by Gladstone in the New Bod, and luggers at their push carts--hurrying picked books and manuscripts to a waiting conveyor belt in response to reader requests--in triplicate--that traveled from the handwritten quarto sized guard bo...