eful vocation of a dealer in old books.

Roger North, in his 'Life of the Right Hon. Francis North,' has an
oft-quoted reference to Little Britain. From this interesting account we
learn that during the latter part of the seventeenth century it was a
plentiful and perpetual emporium of learned authors, and that men went
thither as to a market. The trade of the place was, in consequence, an
important one, the shops being large, and much resorted to by literary
personages, wits, men-about-town, and fashionable notabilities
generally. The booksellers then were men of intellect. But referring, by
way of contrast, to the place during the earlier half of the eighteenth
century, he laments that 'this emporium is vanished, and the trade
contracted into the hands of two or three persons, who, to make good
their monopoly, ransack, not only their neighbours of the trade that are
scattered about the town, but all over England, ay, and beyond sea, too,
and send abroad their circulators, and in this manner get into their
hands all that is valuable. The rest of the trade are content to take
their refuse, with which, and the fresh scum of the press, they furnish
one side of the shop, which serves for the sign of a bookseller, rather
than a real one; but instead of selling, deal as factors, and procure
what the country divines and gentry send for; of whom each hath his
book-factor, and, when wanting anything, writes to his bookseller and
pays his bill. And it is wretched to consider what pickpocket work, with
the help of the press, these demi-booksellers make. They crack their
brains to find out selling subjects, and keep hirelings in garrets, at
hard meat, to write and correct by the groat; and so puff up an octavo
to a sufficient thickness; and there is six shillings current for an
hour and half's reading, and perhaps never to be read or looked upon
after. One that would go higher, must take his fortune at blank walls,
and corners of streets, or repair to the sign of Bateman, King, and one
or two more, where are best choice, and better pennyworths. I might
touch other abuses, as bad paper, incorrect printing, and false
advertising; and all of which and worse are to be expected, if a careful
author is not at the heels of them.'

We get an interesting glimpse of a meeting of two book-lovers in this
locality from Izaak Walton. In his 'Life of Bishop Sanderson,' Walton
writes that about the time Sanderson was printing this excellent prefa