It was after one of his collating rambles that he finally determined to issue proposals for printing his work; and meeting with much encouragement, he speedily looked about for a suitable printing establishment. In a letter to Mr. Chase, a printer who lived next door to “John o’ all sorts,” Cockey Lane, Norwich, on the 1st of July, 1733, he says, “I have endeavoured to procure a set of Saxon types, but cannot do it; and upon looking over my book find a good number of Greek inscriptions, some Hebrew words, and some Gothic. So that I must print it in London; it being impossible to have those types any where in the country (!). I wish heartily I could have done it with you; for I like your terms, and could have been glad to have corrected the press myself, which I then could easily have done.” Eventually he decided upon printing the work upon his own premises, and engaged a good workman, at a salary of £40 a year, bought a press for £7, and fitted up a printing office with all the requisite materials. The account in the papers of the “Archæological Society,” goes on to say, “At that time, distance and difficulties of intercourse made any want of punctuality most annoying, and the plan of printing at home involved the necessity of a great variety of type and other materials. Meanwhile type founders, stationers, and engravers, were but too much given to weary him with delay, or to disgust him with fraud. Beginning a correspondence with frankness and civility, he often had to continue it, urging and reiterating entreaties of attention—alternately coaxing compliance with ‘half a piece’ to drink his health and success to his work, or with ‘promise of making amends,’ or a ‘fowl at Christmas,’ or rebuking with reluctant severity, resulting more from devotedness to his object, than anger or bitterness. A facetious engraver, who was introduced to him, and invited to his house to assist him, after remaining there three weeks, agreed for a large portion of the work, and cut several of the things, all which he ran away with. Other vexations sprang out of the patronage and assistance he most valued; but, after many interruptions, the first edition of a part of the book was brought out in 1736.” In the midst of his labours, however, he was cut off by that virulent enemy, the small pox, on the 15th January, 1751, at the age of forty-six. His work was continued by the Rev. Charles Parkens, of whom a curious anecdote is related;—its accuracy we do not pretend to vouch; the tale runs that Mr. Parkens had a tame magpie, which had access to her master’s study, and seeing him busily employed in folding and unfolding the packets that lay before him on his desk, she thought it no harm to be busy too, until from time to time she flew away _with the __whole borough of Yarmouth_. Many of the parcels, it is added, were recovered, but others irrecoverably lost. “I know not how the truth may be, But tell the tale as ’twas told to me.”