that a continuation of my correspondence will be
well received, I shall descend to particular passages, show how Mr. Pope
gave sometimes occasion to mistakes, and how Mr. Crousaz was misled by
his suspicion of the system of fatality[1].

I am, Sir, yours, &c.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] It does not appear that Dr. Johnson found leisure or encouragement
to continue this subject any farther.

PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE
TO
THE LONDON CHRONICLE,

JANUARY 1, 1757.

It has always been lamented, that of the little time allotted to man,
much must be spent upon superfluities. Every prospect has its
obstructions, which we must break to enlarge our view; every step of our
progress finds impediments, which, however eager to go forward, we must
stop to remove. Even those who profess to teach the way to happiness,
have multiplied our encumbrances, and the author of almost every book
retards his instructions by a preface.

The writers of the Chronicle hope to be easily forgiven, though they
should not be free from an infection that has seized the whole
fraternity, and instead of falling immediately to their subjects, should
detain the reader for a time with an account of the importance of their
design, the extent of their plan, and the accuracy of the method which
they intend to prosecute. Such premonitions, though not always necessary
when the reader has the book complete in his hand, and may find, by his
own eyes, whatever can be found in it, yet may be more easily allowed to
works published gradually in successive parts, of which the scheme can
only be so far known as the author shall think fit to discover it.

The paper which we now invite the publick to add to the papers with
which it is already rather wearied than satisfied, consists of many
parts, some of which it has in common with other periodical sheets, and
some peculiar to itself.

The first demand, made by the reader of a journal, is, that he should
find an accurate account of foreign transactions and domestick
incidents. This is always expected, but this is very rarely performed.
Of those writers who have taken upon themselves the task of
intelligence, some have given and others have sold their abilities,
whether small or great, to one or other of the parties that divide us;
and without a wish for truth or thought of decency, without care of any
other reputation than that of a stubborn adherence to their abettors,
carry on the same tenour of representation through all