books which I had never before heard of, and in this manner obtained a kind of notion of bibliography. My brother, who, like myself, became a frequenter of the agency office, relished Peter highly, and has touched him of in one of his essays.” A wealthy old man was Hutton, of Birmingham, who thus describes his early struggles to set up in business as a bookbinder:— “A bookbinder, fostered by the frame, was such a novelty that many people gave me a book to bind, chiefly my acquaintances and their friends, and I perceived two advantages attend my work. I chiefly served those who were not judges; consequently, that work passed with them which would not with a master. And coming from a stockinger, it carried a merit, because no stockinger could produce its equal. “Hitherto I had only used the wretched tools and the materials for binding which my bookseller chose to sell me; but I found there were many others wanting, which were only to be had in London; besides, I wished to fix a correspondence for what I wanted, without purchasing at second-hand. There was a necessity to take this journey; but an obstacle arose—I had no money. “My dear sister raised three guineas; sewed them in my shirt collar, for there was no doubt of my being robbed, and put eleven shillings in my pocket, for it was needful to have a sop to satisfy the rogues when they made the attack. From the diminutive sum I took, it may reasonably be supposed I should have nothing left to purchase. “On Monday morning at three, April 8th, I set out. Not being accustomed to walk, my feet were blistered with the first ten miles. I must not, however, sink under the fatigue, but endeavour to proceed as if all were well; for much depended on this journey. Aided by resolution I marched on. “Stopping at Leicester, I unfortunately left my knife, and did not discover the loss till I had proceeded eleven miles. I grieved, because it was the only keepsake I had of my worthy friend, Mr. Webb. Ten times its value could not have purchased it. I had marked it with ‘July 22, 1742, W. H.’ “A mile beyond Leicester I overtook a traveller with his head bound. ‘How far are you going?’ he asked. ‘To London,’ replied I. ‘So am I.’ ‘When do you expect to arrive?’ ‘On Wednesday night.’ ‘So do I.’ ‘What is the matter with your head?’ said I; ‘have you been fighting?’ He returned a blind answer, which convinced me of the affirmative. I did not half like my companion, especially as he took care to walk behind me. This probably, I thought, was one of the rogues likely to attack me. But when I understood he was a tailor my fears rather subsided, nor did I wonder his head was wrapped.