at advertises his own excellence should write with some
consciousness of a character which dares to call the attention of the
publick. He should remember that his name is to stand in the same paper
with those of the king of Prussia and the emperour of Germany, and
endeavour to make himself worthy of such association.

Some regard is likewise to be paid to posterity. There are men of
diligence and curiosity who treasure up the papers of the day merely
because others neglect them, and in time they will be scarce. When these
collections shall be read in another century, how will numberless
contradictions be reconciled? and how shall fame be possibly distributed
among the tailors and bodice-makers of the present age?

Surely these things deserve consideration. It is enough for me to have
hinted my desire that these abuses may be rectified; but such is the
state of nature, that what all have the right of doing, many will
attempt without sufficient care or due qualifications[1].

[1] A history of newspapers, more diffuse than the chronological series
in Nichols' Literary Anecdotes, Vol. iv. is desirable. See Preface.

No. 41. SATURDAY, JANUARY 27, 1759.

The following letter relates to an affliction perhaps not necessary to
be imparted to the publick; but I could not persuade myself to suppress
it, because I think, I know the sentiments to be sincere, and I feel no
disposition to provide for this day any other entertainment.

At, tu quisquis eris, miseri qui cruda poetae
Credideris fletu funera digna tuo,
Haec postrema tibi sit flendi causa, fluatque
Lenis inoffenso vitaque morsque gradu. OVID.

Mr. Idler,

Notwithstanding the warnings of philosophers, and the daily examples of
losses and misfortunes which life forces upon our observation, such is
the absorption of our thoughts in the business of the present day, such
the resignation of our reason to empty hopes of future felicity, or such
our unwillingness to foresee what we dread, that every calamity comes
suddenly upon us, and not only presses us as a burden, but crushes as a
blow.

There are evils which happen out of the common course of nature, against
which it is no reproach not to be provided. A flash of lightning
intercepts the traveller in his way. The concussion of an earthquake
heaps the ruins of cities upon their inhabitants. But other miseries
time brings, though silently yet visibly, forward by its even lapse,
which yet appr