It is generally assumed--though the assumption has no ground for existence beyond that so common amongst us, that nothing exists of which we are ignorant--that advertisements are of comparatively modern origin. This idea has probably been fostered in the public mind by the fact that so little trouble has ever been taken by encyclopædists to discover anything about them; and as time begets difficulties in research, we are almost driven to regard the first advertisement with which we are acquainted as the actual inaugurator of a system which now has hardly any bounds. That this is wrong will be shown most conclusively, and even so far evidence is given by the statement, made by Smith and others, that advertisements were published in Greece and Rome in reference to the gladiatorial exhibitions, so important a feature of the ancient days of those once great countries. That these advertisements took the form of what is now generally known as “billing,” seems most probable, and Rome must have often looked like a modern country town when the advent of a circus or other travelling company is first made known. The first newspaper supposed to have been published in England appeared in the reign of Queen Elizabeth during the Spanish Armada panic. This journal was called the _English Mercurie_, and was by authority “imprinted at London by Christopher Barker, Her Highnesses printer, 1583.” This paper was said to be started for the prevention of the fulmination of false reports, but it was more like a succession of extraordinary gazettes, and had by no means the appearance of a regular journal, as we understand the term. It was promoted by Burleigh, and used by him to soothe, inform, or exasperate the people as occasion required.[1] Periodicals and papers really first came into general use during the civil wars in the reign of Charles I., and in the time of the Commonwealth; in fact, each party had its organs, to disseminate sentiments of loyalty, or to foster a spirit of resistance against the inroads of power.[2] The country was accordingly overflowed with tracts of every size and of various denominations, many of them displaying great courage, and being written with uncommon ability. _Mercury_ was the prevailing title, generally qualified with some epithet; and the quaintness peculiar to the age is curiously exemplified in the names of some of the news-books, as they were called: the _Dutch Spye_, the _Scots Dove_, the _Parliament Kite_, the _Screech Owle_, and the _Parliamentary Screech Owle_, being instances in point. The list of _Mercuries_ is almost too full for publication. There was _Mercurius Acheronticus_, which brought tidings weekly from the infernal regions; there was _Mercurius Democritus_, whose information was supposed to be derived from the moon; and among other _Mercuries_ there was the _Mercurius Mastix_, whose mission was to criticise all its namesakes. It was not, however, until the reign of Queen Anne that a daily paper