prepared from the best drugs and the original
receipt which my Father Mr. Thomas Daffy having
experienced the virtues of it imparted it to Mr.
Anthony Daffy who published the same to his own
great advantage. This very original receipt is now
in my possession, left me by my father under his
own bond. My brother Mr. Daniel Daffy, late
apothecary in Nottingham, made this Elixir from
the same receipt and sold it there during his life.
Those who know me will believe me, and those
who do not know me may be convinced I am no
counterfeit by the colour, taste, smell and just
operation of my Elixir. Sold at the Hand and
Pen, Maiden-lane, Covent Garden, London, and in
many other places in Town and Country."

Mist's weekly journal of Saturday, March
6th, 1725, contains an artful paragraph most
likely emanating from a despairing author
whose play had not succeeded:—

"Mrs. Graspall, who has been our customer two
years, desires us to inform the masters of Drury
Lane playhouse, that if they please to play the
comedy, called A Wife to be Let, within ten days,
they will oblige her and a great many of the
quality to whom she has communicated her
design."

We find by subsequent numbers that
Mrs. Graspall's request was not complied
with.

There is an anecdote of historical interest
in the St. James's Evening Post of Sept. 17th,
1734. It relates to the Chevalier St. George,
afterwards the rash but chivalric "Pretender"
to the British throne. It appears that when
the Spaniards made the Conquest of Italy,
and were sailing for Sicily, the Chevalier
was on board one of their ships with the
young King of Naples, the latter, doubtless,
a prisoner;—

"When the fleet set sail," says the 'special
correspondent,' "a blast of wind blew the young
Chevalier St. George's hat off his head into the
sea. Immediately there were several officious
enough to endeavour to take it up; but the young
Chevalier called out, Let it alone, let it alone; I
will go and get another in England. Whereupon
the young King of Naples threw his hat into the
sea, and said, and I will go along with you. But
they may happen to go bare-headed a long time;
if they get no hats till they come amongst you:
for we are well assured that they will find none in
England that will fit their heads."

The designs of young Charles Edward must
have been deeply rooted to have been
entertained so early—for he was then only fourteen
years old—and so long before they were
fulfilled. At the end of his '45 adventures, he
did indeed go bare-headed for months without
a hat or a roof to cover him.

The Daily Post of Thursday, August 17th,
1738, must be a priceless treasure in the eye
of the collector for two remarkable paragraphs
with which it is enriched. On one of them
was founded the most pathetic and popular of
Scott's novels—The Heart of Mid-Lothian.
The story of the girl "of a fine soul," even as
told by the paragraphist is touching. The
communication is dated "Edinburgh, August
20th, 1738."

"Isabel Walker, under sentence of death at
Dumfries for child-murder, has actually got a
remission. This unhappy creature was destitute
of friends, and had none to apply for her but an
only sister, a girl of a fine soul, that overlooked
the improbability of success, helpless and alone
went to London to address the Great, and solicit
so well (sic) that she got for her, first, a reprieve,
and now a remission. Such another instance of
onerous friendship can scarce be shown; it well
deserved the attention of the greatest who could
not but admire the virtue, and on that account
engage in her cause."

The other paragraph records the death of
Joe Miller, posthumous sponsor of the most
profitable jest book ever published. He was
as innocent of it as of any one of the jokes;
the collection—having been benevolently made
by his friend Jack Mottley for the benefit of
Miller's widow—eventually proved to be the
best benefit ever known in the theatrical
world. The obituary is brief but
complimentary:—

"Yesterday morning died Jo: Miller, Comedian,
of merry memory. Very few of his profession
have gained more applause on the stage, and few
have acted off it with so much approbation from
their neighbours."

The London Daily Post (there were three
"Posts" in those days) of the same date gives
more information on the mournful subject.
It says:—

"Yesterday morning died of Pleurisy, Mr.
Joseph Miller, a celebrated Comedian belonging
to the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane; much
admired for his performances in general, but
particularly in the character of Teague, in The
Committee, or the Faithful Irishman."

The papers from which this mélange of
extracts has been culled are pigmies beside the
present race of Giants. There is about as
much matter in a single modern London
morning newspaper as was contained in a
year's contents of the Postman, before it had
two leaves. To present the contrast between
to-day's monsters of the press and their
antecedents the more forcibly, we shall
conclude with an extract from a paper recently
read by Mr. E. Cowper at the Institution of
Civil Engineers, relative to the Times:—

"On the 7th of May, 1850, the Times and
Supplement contained 72 columns, or 17,500 lines,
made up of upwards of a million pieces of
type, of which matter about two-fifths were
written, composed, and corrected after seven
o'clock in the evening. The Supplement was sent
to press at 7 50 P. M., the first form of the paper
at 4 15 A. M., and the second form at 4 45 A. M.;
on this occasion, 7000 papers were published
before 6 15 A. M., 21,000 papers before 7 30 A. M.,
and 34,000 before 8 45 A. M., or in about four
hours. The greatest number of copies ever
printed in one day was 54,000, and the greatest
quantity of printing in one day's publication was