February, sixteen hundred and ninety-six, in
consequence, Dunton tells us, of the great
increase of similar ventures. The complete
series formed twenty volumes, folio, and
perhaps among so great a mass of writings,
some papers not altogether deserving of
oblivion may be found.

It may be well here, to give the reader a
few of Dunton's pen-and-ink sketches of his
brothers in trade. Chief among the London
booksellers at this time was Richard Chiswell,
of the Rose and Crown in St. Paul's Churchyard,
"who well deserves the title of metropolitan
bookseller of England, for his name at
the bottom of a title-page doth sufficiently
recommend the book; for he has not been
known to print, either a bad book, or on bad
paper: moreover, he knows how to value a
copy according to its worth." Then there is
"Mr. Thomas Parkhurst, mine honoured
master," whose excellent character has already
been given, and "he has met with very
strange success, for I have known him sell off
the whole impression before the book has
been almost heard of in London." Next,
there is that London celebrity, Thomas Guy,
the founder of the two Borough hospitals.
"He entertains a sincere respect for English
liberty, is a man of strong reason, and very
charitable." John does not tell us, as
doubtless it was well known, that the foundation
of Guy's enormous wealth was laid by
the printing of Bibles, which, at this period,
were very largely imported from Holland, but
which were mostly found to be extremely
incorrect. His first shop was in Stocks
Market, the present site of the Mansion
House; and while there, and after he removed
to his larger shop in Lombard Street, being
single and very saving, he was accustomed to
have his frugal dinner fetched from a
neighbouring cook's-shop, and to make his counter
his dinner-table, with an old newspaper for
a tablecloth. The habits of Mr. Richard
Parker, "whose body is in good condition
and plump," we imagine to have been
different. He, too, "is fortunate in all he
prints, and much beloved by the merchants,"
so, doubtless, he eat his roast beef off a
damask tablecloth, with his bottle of Madeira
—wines were unexcised in those palmy days—
and the tall long-stemmed glass by his side.
Jacob Tonson, of "the two left legs," receives
a very high character: "to do him justice
he speaks his mind on all occasions, and
flatters nobody." Dryden and Pope would
both concur in the truth of this, although we
doubt if they would make it the subject of
compliment. Then, there is Mr. Kettleby, with
his sign of the Bishop's Head; "and indeed
he is pretty warmly disposed that way"—in
plain terms, rather a dangerous Jacobite;
and there are also Mr. Borroughs and Mr.
Ballard, both of Little Britain. Mr. Walton
deserves a passing notice, as "a very
courteous man, although his trade lies much
among the lawyers"! There are two or
three lady booksellers; one of them an
unmarried lady, Mrs. Lucy Soule, "who is
both a printer and a bookseller—being a good
compositor herself. She hath refused many
offers because that her aged mother might
have the chief command in her house."

John Dunton gives us many more sketches
of booksellers. "A Mr. More, with whom I
travelled to Brentford;" how suggestive of
bad roads and slow travelling! "there was no
virtue but he possessed it." We might travel
in these days—very often have, perhaps—
with similar paragons, and not have a chance
of finding them out. All the booksellers do not,
however, come in for so favourable a character.
A Mr. Salusbury is denounced as "a silly,
empty, morose fellow, with as much conceit,
and as little reason for it, as any man I know."
As it appears this gentleman was admired by
the ladies, we are perhaps supplied with the
true reason for this abuse. But the worst of
all was one Mr. Lee, of Lombard Street, who
was "a cormorant and a pirate. Copies,
books, men, shops—all were one; he held no
propriety, good or bad, right or wrong, till
at last he became known, and then he
marched off to Ireland."

Returning to the Black Raven, John Dunton
tells us, that the world stiil smiled upon him. In
sixteen hundred and ninety-two, having been
left some property by a relation, he was enabled
to take up the livery of the Stationers'
Company; and soon after, Sir William Ashurst
being lord mayor, the master and wardens,
and a select few of the liverymen, were
invited to dine with him. This is noted
down as a white day by John, for he
was one of the number, and he went with
them in procession to Grocers' Hall—did he
remember the old love-making in the garden
there, as he sat in solemn state in his livery
gown as one of the Worshipful Company of
Stationers!—and he tells us that the
entertainment was sumptuous, and the lord mayor
"sent a noble spoon to our wives."

Alas! the days are gone when there was
any association between a Lord Mayor, or
any lord, and a noble spoon.

Soon after the discontinuance of the
Athenian Mercury, John seems to have
neglected business; he hints something about
"a design," and that to enjoy the leisure
necessary for it, he took "an airy apartment"
in Bull Head Court, Jewin Street, and there
was accustomed to spend his days, instead
of behind the broad counter, or beneath
the pent-house of the Black Raven. But he
well knew there was one, though in delicate
health and fast-failing strength, who would
keep faithful watch there. And so she did
as long as health permitted—perhaps longer
than she ought; but at length "dear Iris"
was confined to her chamber, where patiently,
cheerfully, and most unselfishly, she bore
many long months of sickness. At length,
on the twenty-eighth of May, sixteen hundred
and ninety-seven, she breathed her