In the second number of the _Gentleman's Journal_ appeared the following:--'The author desires to be excused for not answering the many ingenious letters that have been sent to him that he may have the more time to apply himself to this journal; he judges that he answers them enough when he follows the advice they give him, or inserts what is sent to him, which he will always be very careful to do. But such things as any way reflect upon particular persons, or are either against religion or good manners, he cannot insert. He will take care to settle correspondence both abroad and at home, to inform his readers of all that may be most worthy their knowledge; and if anything offers itself that deserves to be engraved, he will get it done. But it being impossible he should know by himself a thousand things which the publick would gladly know, such persons as have anything to communicate may be pleased to send it to him, at the Black Boy Coffee House in Ave Maria Lane, not forgetting to discharge the postage.' It would appear by the above that Peter Anthony Motteux had a vague perception that engravings might increase the attractions of his journal; but it does not seem that much came in his way that 'deserved to be engraved.' I have found only two small woodcuts in the _Gentleman's Journal_. They both occur in the volume for 1694. One is a representation of snow crystals, and the other is a diagram of a mock sun. Motteux tells us that his journal was patronised by the Queen, and was much favoured by the ladies generally. He had amongst his contributors Dryden, Matthew Prior, Sedley, and Tom Durfey. Charles Wesley, brother of the famous John, sent serious verses, as did also Tate, of 'Tate and Brady' celebrity. All these contributions were introduced into a long letter, which, as the title indicates, was the shape in which the _Gentleman's Journal_ was written, and in this respect it was modelled upon the early manuscript newsletters. Peter Anthony Motteux, the editor of the first English magazine, was also the author of several songs, plays, and prologues, and he also published a translation of _Don Quixote_. He kept a large East India warehouse in Leadenhall Street, and afterwards obtained a situation in the Post Office. He was found dead on the morning of his fifty-eighth birthday, in a low drinking-house in Butchers' Row, near Temple Bar, and had either been murdered or had lost his life in a drunken frolic. The _London Gazette_ of the succeeding week contained the offer of a reward of fifty pounds for the discovery of the murderer, and the King's pardon to any but the actual criminal; but the mystery was never cleared up, and the bones of the clever exiled Frenchman lie unavenged and forgotten in the vaults of St. Andrew Undershaft, Leadenhall Street, celebrated amongst City churches as the burial-place of John Stowe.[1]