was to be employ'd. I resented this; and, to counteract them, as I could not yet begin our paper, I wrote several pieces of entertainment for Bradford's paper, under the title of the BUSY BODY, which Breintnal continu'd some months. By this means the attention of the publick was fixed on that paper, and Keimer's proposals, which we burlesqu'd and ridicul'd, were disregarded. He began his paper, however, and, after carrying it on three quarters of a year, with at most only ninety subscribers, he offered it to me for a trifle; and I, having been ready some time to go on with it, took it in hand directly; and it prov'd in a few years extremely profitable to me.3

I perceive that I am apt to speak in the singular number, though our partnership still continu'd; the reason may be that, in fact, the whole management of the business lay upon Meredith was no compositor, a poor pressman, and seldom sober. My friends lamented my connection with him, but I was to make the best of it.

me.

Our first papers made a quite different appearance from any before in the province; a better type, and better printed; but some spirited remarks of my writing, on the dispute then going on between Governor Burnet and the Massachusetts Assembly, struck the principal people, occasioned the paper and the manager of it to be much talk'd of, and in a few weeks brought them all to be our subscribers.

Their example was follow'd by many, and our number went on growing continually. This was one of the first good effects of my having learnt a little to scribble; another was, that the leading men, seeing a newspaper now in the hands of one who could also handle a pen, thought it convenient to oblige and encourage me. Bradford still printed the votes, and laws, and other publick business. He had printed an address of the House to the governor, in a coarse, blunder

ing manner; we reprinted it elegantly and correctly, and sent one to every member. They were sensible of the difference: it strengthened the hands of our friends in the House, and they voted us their printers for the year ensuing.

From the Autobiography.

D

SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784)

R. JOHNSON'S famous reputation is based not on his works but on the fact that he had something important to say on every subject. By nature he was a philosopher, and by force of circumstances he became the literary dictator of his age. Even Oliver Goldsmith submitted to this dominating personality several of his poems for correction before he published them. In spite of his peculiarities and prejudices the doctor must have been an entertaining companion. Although his early difficulties left an indelible stamp of melancholy upon him, yet he never allowed it to sour his disposition. He had a kind heart and was ever ready to help those in trouble. It is unfortunate that many students obtain their idea of Dr. Johnson from Macaulay's essay rather than from Boswell's biography, for the latter gives a far more complete and faithful picture.

Much of Dr. Johnson's work was produced to satisfy the new demand for information. The reading class was no longer composed merely of the men and women of leisure. The commercial classes were increasing in numbers and in prosperity and were demanding a literature suitable to their needs. Johnson contributed to this literature his Dictionary, in which he endeavored to preserve the purity of the English language, his Lives of the Poets, and the various essays in the Rambler, Adventurer, and Idler. He believed that the function of literature was to teach unknown truths or to recommend known truths. Therefore he wrote as a moralist and instructor of mankind. This fidelity to a moral purpose and his pompous, abstract style account for the fact that Dr. Johnson is not read more universally today.

To one so interested in every phase of the life of his time "The Art of Advertising" was sure to appeal. As usual, Johnson looked at it with a critical eye and pointed out its shortcomings in an amusing way. He certainly had no conception of its future when he wrote "The trade of advertising is now so near to perfection

that it is not easy to propose any improvement." Were he living in the twentieth century, he would be one of the propagandists in the drive for truth in advertising.

ON THE TRADES OF LONDON

That familiarity produces neglect, has been long observed. The effect of all external objects, however great or splendid, ceases with their novelty; the courtier stands without emotion in the royal presence; the rustic tramples under his foot the beauties of the spring, with little attention to their colour or their fragrance; and the inhabitant of the coast darts his eye upon the immense diffusion of waters, without awe, wonder, or terror.

Those who have past much of their lives in this great city, look upon its opulence and its multitudes, its extent and variety, with cold indifference; but an inhabitant of the remoter parts of the kingdom is immediately distinguished by a kind of dissipated curiosity, a busy endeavour to divide his attention amongst a thousand objects, and a wild confusion of astonishment and alarm.

The attention of a new-comer is generally first struck by the multiplicity of cries that stun him in the streets, and the variety of merchandise and manufactures which the shopkeepers expose on every hand; and he is apt, by unwary bursts of admiration, to excite the merriment and contempt of those, who mistake the use of their eyes for effects of their understanding, and confound accidental knowledge with just reasoning.

But, surely, these are subjects on which any man may without reproach employ his meditations: the innumerable occupations, among which the thousands that swarm in the streets of London are distributed, may furnish employment to minds of every craft, and capacities of every degree. He

that contemplates the extent of this wonderful city, finds it difficult to conceive, by what method plenty is maintained in our markets, and how the inhabitants are regularly supplied with the necessaries of life; but when he examines the shops and warehouses, sees the immense stores of every kind of merchandise piled up for sale, and runs over all the manufactures of art and products of nature, which are every where attracting his eye and soliciting his purse, he will be inclined to conclude, that such quantities cannot easily be exhausted, and that part of mankind must soon stand still for want of employment, till the wares already provided shall be worn out and destroyed.

As Socrates was passing through the fair at Athens, and casting his eyes over the shops and customers, "how many things are here," says he, "that I do not want!" The same sentiment is every moment rising in the mind of him that walks the streets of London, however inferior in philosophy to Socrates: he beholds a thousand shops crowded with goods, of which he can scarcely tell the use, and which, therefore, he is apt to consider as of no value; and, indeed, many of the arts by which families are supported, and wealth is heaped together, are of that minute and superfluous kind, which nothing but experience could evince possible to be prosecuted with advantage, and which, as the world might easily want, it could scarcely be expected to encourage.

But so it is, that custom, curiosity, or wantonness, supplies every art with patrons, and finds purchasers for every manufacture; the world is so adjusted, that not only bread, but riches may be obtained without great abilities, or arduous performances: the most unskillful hand and unenlightened mind have sufficient incitements to industry; for he that is resolutely busy, can scarcely be in want. There is, indeed, no employment, however despicable, from which