d tumult of a first session, was now ready for the press. After the
perilous adventure had been declined by my friend Mr. Elmsly, I agreed,
upon easy terms, with Mr. Thomas Cadell, a respectable bookseller, and
Mr. William Strahan, an eminent printer; and they undertook the care and
risk of the publication, which derived more credit from the name of the
shop than from that of the author. The last revisal of the proofs was
submitted to my vigilance; and many blemishes of style, which had
been invisible in the manuscript, were discovered and corrected in the
printed sheet. So moderate were our hopes, that the original impression
had been stinted to five hundred, till the number was doubled by the
prophetic taste of Mr. Strahan. During this awful interval I was neither
elated by the ambition of fame, nor depressed by the apprehension of
contempt. My diligence and accuracy were attested by my own conscience.
History is the most popular species of writing, since it can adapt
itself to the highest or the lowest capacity. I had chosen an
illustrious subject. Rome is familiar to the school-boy and the
statesman; and my narrative was deduced from the last period of
classical reading. I had likewise flattered myself, that an age of light
and liberty would receive, without scandal, an inquiry into the human
causes of the progress and establishment of Christianity.

I am at a loss how to describe the success of the work, without
betraying the vanity of the writer. The first impression was exhausted
in a few days; a second and third edition were scarcely adequate to the
demand; and the bookseller's property was twice invaded by the pirates
of Dublin. My book was on every table, and almost on every toilette; the
historian was crowned by the taste or fashion of the day; nor was the
general voice disturbed by the barking of any profane critic. The favour
of mankind is most freely bestowed on a new acquaintance of any original
merit; and the mutual surprise of the public and their favourite is
productive of those warm sensibilities, which at a second meeting can
no longer be rekindled. If I listened to the music of praise, I was more
seriously satisfied with the approbation of my judges. The candour of
Dr. Robertson embraced his disciple. A letter from Mr. Hume overpaid the
labour of ten years, but I have never presumed to accept a place in the
triumvirate of British historians.

That curious and original letter will amuse the reader, a