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Wow-wow must have come to a war of its own had not 'an Oxford Scholar, led there by curiosity, pulled a new magazine out of his pocket, in which he said there were some pieces extremely curious and that deserved their 'attention. He then read the Adventures of Sir Launcelot Greaves, to the entire satisfaction of the audience, which 'being finished, he threw the pamphlet upon the table: "That piece, gentlemen," says he, "is written in the very "spirit and manner of Cervantes; there is great know"ledge of human nature, and evident marks of the master " "in almost every sentence; and from the plan, the humour, ""and the execution, I can venture to say that it dropped ""from the pen of the ingenious Doctor. .

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Every

one was pleased with the performance; and I was particularly gratified in hearing all the sensible part of the

company give orders for the British Magazine.'

So said the not less anonymous or ingenious Doctor, in that venture of good Mr. Newbery's which started but twelve days after Smollett's, and in which also had been enlisted the services of the Green Arbour Court lodger. War is the time for newspapers; and the inventive head which planned the Universal Chronicle, with the good taste that enlisted Johnson in its service, now made a bolder effort in the same direction. The first number of The Public Ledger was published on the 12th of January 1760. Nothing less than a Daily Newspaper had the busy publisher of children's books projected. But a daily newspaper was not an

appalling speculation, then. Not then, morning after morning, did it throw its eyes of Argus over all the world. No universal command was needed for it then, over sources of foreign intelligence that might controul and govern the money transactions of rival hemispheres. There existed with it, then, no costly arts for making and marring fortunes; cultivated to a perfection high as the pigeon's flight, swift as the courier's horse, or deep as the secret drawer of the diplomatist's bureau. Then, it was no more essential to a paper's existence, that countless advertisements should be scattered broadcast through its columns; than to a city's business, that puffing vans should perambulate its highways, and armies of placard-bearing paupers seize upon its pavements. Neither as a perfect spy of the time, nor as a full informer or high improver of the time, did a daily journal yet put forth its claims. Neither to prompt and correct intelligence, nor to great political or philanthropic aims, did it as yet devote itself. The triumphs or discomfitures of Freedom were not yet its daily themes. Not yet did it presume or dare to ride in the whirlwind and direct the storm of great political passions; to grapple resistlessly with social abuses; or to take broad and philosophic views of the world's contemporaneous history, the history which is a-making from day to day. It was content with humbler duties. It called itself a daily register of commerce and intelligence, and fell short of even so much modest pretension. The letter of a Probus or a Manlius sufficed for

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discussion of the war; and a modest rumour in some dozen lines, for what had occupied parliament during as many days. 'We are unwilling,' said the editor of the Public Ledger (Mr. Griffith Jones, who wrote children's books for Mr. Newbery) in his first number, to raise expectations 'which we may perhaps find ourselves unable to satisfy; and therefore have made no mention of criticism or 'literature, which yet we do not professedly exclude; nor 'shall we reject any political essays which are apparently 'calculated for the public good.' Discreetly avoiding, thus, all undue expectation, there quietly came forth into the world, from Mr. Bristow's office next the great toy'shop in St. Paul's Church-yard,' the first number of the Public Ledger. It was circulated gratis: with announcement that all future numbers would be sold for twopence half-penny each.

The first four numbers were enlightened by Probus in politics and Sir Simeon Swift in literature; the one defending the war, the other commencing the 'Ranger,' and both very mildly justifying the modest editorial announcements. The fifth number was not so common-place. It had a letter (vindicating with manly assertion the character and courage of the then horribly unpopular French, and humorously condemning the national English habit of abusing rival nations), which implied a larger spirit as it showed a livelier pen. The same hand again appeared in the next number but one; and the correspondent of Green Arbour Court became entitled to

receive two guineas from Mr. Newbery for his first week's contributions to the Public Ledger. His arrangement was to write twice in the week, and to be paid a guinea for each article.

With the second week he had taken greater courage. The letter which appeared on the 24th of January, though without title or numbering to imply intention of continuance, threw out the hint of a series of letters, and of a kind of narrative as in the Lettres Persanes. The character assumed was that of a Chinese visitor to London: the writer's old interest in the flowery people having received new strength, of late, from the translated Chinese novel of his dignified acquaintance Doctor Percy. The second letter, still without title, appeared five days after the first; some inquiry seems to have been made for their continuance ; and thence uninterruptedly the series went on. Not until somewhat advanced, were they even numbered; they never received a title, until republished; but they were talked of as the Chinese Letters, assumed the principal place in the paper, and contributed more than any other cause to its establishment. Sir Simeon Swift and his 'Ranger,' Mr. Philanthropy Candid and his 'Visitor,' struggled and departed as newspaper shadows are wont to do; Lien Chi Altangi became real, and lived. From the ephemeral sprang the immortal. On that column of ungainly-looking, perishable type, depended not alone the paper of the day, but a book to last throughout the year, a continuous pleasure for the age, and one

which was for all time. It amused the hour, was wise for the interval beyond it, is still diverting and instructing us, and will delight generations yet unborn. At the close of 1760, ninety-eight of the letters had been published; within the next few months, at less regular intervals, the series was brought to completion; and in the following year, the whole were republished by Mr. Newbery, in two duodecimo volumes, without any author's name, as 'The Citizen of the World; or, Letters from a Chinese Philosopher residing in London, to his friends in the 'East.'

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'Light, agreeable, summer reading,' observed the British Magazine, with but dry and laconic return for the Wow-wow. The Monthly Review had to make return of a different kind, Mr. Griffiths now decently resolving to swallow his leek; and Kenrick, his pliant cur, having taken his orders to abstain from bark or bite and whine approbation and apology, thus did his master's bidding, in his master's name: The public 'have been already made sufficiently acquainted with 'the merit of these entertaining letters, which were first 'printed in the Ledger, and are supposed to have contributed not a little towards the success of that paper. 'They are said to be the work of the lively and ingenious writer of An Enquiry into the Present State of Polite 'Learning in Europe; a writer whom it seems we un'designedly offended by some strictures on the conduct of many of our modern scribblers. As the observation was

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