Among the authors, of whose works they were the publishers, were numbers of the Great, and Rich, and Powerful, from many of whom they had obtained the reputation of being very liberal. But let it be remembered, that the sum which appears considerable, when paid as a remuneration to Noble or Episcopal gentlemen, who write for amusement only, becomes relatively small, when apportioned to an author by profession, whose comforts and conveniences of life are obtained principally by the labour of his brains. With this latter description of writers, this opulent personage had a great deal more to do, and with such he invariably attempted to drive a hard bargain. Our friend once, it appears, was about to enter into an engagement with him, of no inconsiderable magnitude: great labour and perseverance were required on one part, with the employment of three years at least, whilst a scanty and parsimonious remuneration was held out by the other. However, as the intellectual powers were then in full vigour, the ardour of literary ambition progressively increasing, and what perhaps had no small weight, a number of little people incessantly crying out for “Crowdy,” the terms, though hard, were acceded to. A professional gentleman was employed to draw up the agreement, and a time was fixed for the signatures of the different parties. But when the agreement was produced, the reader may guess the Sexagenarian’s astonishment, at perceiving a clause of which no warning had been given, purporting, that if any other publication, or rather translation, of the same work, should appear before the final completion and printing of the present, then the agreement was to be null and void. A most notable example of liberality truly! A poor author was to beat his brains, confine himself to one arduous labour for two years or more, and then if a similar work, no matter whence or where, should steal from its retirement on the eve of the publication of that in question, there was to be no compensation, acknowledgment, or reward, for so much time irretrievably lost. It cannot be a matter of wonder, that the poor author left the worshipful bookseller in disgust, (for worshipful he afterwards became) and never afterwards sought a renewal of his acquaintance. It may perhaps in some degree satisfy the reader’s curiosity, to be informed, that what was thus prudently guarded against by this cautious man of wealth, actually took place. In the course of the two years which immediately succeeded, a precisely similar work had silently advanced to its accomplishment, and was suddenly and unexpectedly announced. Whether this would have superseded the necessity of the other, or have claimed a larger share of public approbation, is a matter which cannot be determined. Non existimavi me salvo jure nostræ veteris amicitiæ, multorumque inter nos officiorum, facere posse, ut honori tuo deessem. Placet Stoicis suo quamque rem nomine appellare.