Until of late years the "Press" with its complicated machinery, meutal, manual and mechanical, has been veiled in mystery. Of all Histories that of "Periodical Literature" has been the most neglected, and it was not until a dearth of other matter forced the subject upon them, that the Reviews and Magazines at home took the trouble" to enlighten their readers upon this most interesting topic, interesting not only from the moral influence of our periodicals, but from the vast numbers to whom they give constant employment. Of late, however, we have had ample details of the whole mechanism of "the Press," for, scarcely a periodical appears but there is some paper upon printing establishments, editors, compositors, reporters, types and leaders. By this time the reading pubic ought to be tolerably well acquainted with this "giant and its myrmidons" and have learnt how much it owes to them. 'As yet, however, but one side of the picture has been shewn,-the fair side; there is much of darkness and depravity to be explored, villainy to be unveiled and quackery to be exposed. We have looked on both sides of the picture, and will endeavour, as far as our feeble powers allow, to paint what others have left untouched :

"We are (not) forbid

"To tell the secrets of the prison-house."

The present age is peculiarly one of cheap reading,* as much as it is of cheap physic, and the quacks in both trades are equally numerous and impudent. Scarcely has a work obtained some share of popularity, when a host of pilferers and imitators arise. If a Magazine contains a clever and interesting article, or a News-paper an important express from abroad, some pigmy periodical, without acknowledging the source, retails it word by word, for as many farthings as the original cost pounds. Imitating the title and ap

We would have it understood that we do not wish to call in question the utility and excellence of the cheap literary papers such as the Penny and Saturday Magazines, Chamber's Journal, the Mirror, &c.—the good which they have effected is incalculable-but it is to the small fry of the Political Press that we would draw attention.

pearance of a new and popular periodical is another ruse of the enemy-often with success. It is one of these petty pifferers-these robbers of other men's brains-that the present paper is intended to portray feebly and imperfectly in language, it may be, but not the less honestly.

Passing rapidly along the edge of the foot pavement in the Strand is a big, burly man, swaggering and rolling about with a thick knobby cudgel fit to fell a bullock. It is a bleak, frosty morning in January, and he is clad in a gigantic Bath-coat, with very wide velvet collar and cuffs, leather gloves and a broad-brimmed white hat. He has just turned out of Catherine-Street and is bending his steps toward the city. He appears to be known to many of the passers-by, for numerous are the nods he receives in his transit, some of which he does not care to acknowledge, others he replies to in a variety of forms, from the plebian wink of the eye to the aristocratical "How do."

This man is named Gholt and is known to the trade as the "Bear," or "Swindling Jemmy." Many are the sufferers by him, from the poor uupaid printer's devil, to the paper-maker, and the advertising tradesman who has been weak enough to pay for advertisements that are never read by more than a few hundred persons. Let us follow him in his morning's walk from victim to victim.

Gholt has suffered some severe losses in his literary speculations, but Antinous-like he has risen each time from his fall with renewed energy, and is now working a pet paper with fairer pro mise of success than ever. If we are to place any credit in his flaming monstre puffs, the "Omnibus" is the largest paper in London, contains more matter than the Times, with the latest and most varied intelligence, the most able and independant editorials, the very choicest literary selections, and lastly boasts the largest number of readers, though the copies sold may not be quite as many as the "Times" or "Weekly Dispatch," all this for the paltry sum of one penny-one copper coin of the realm! He is now on bis way to the city to beat up for Advertisers, Subscribers and credit:-arrived at Temple-bar he is accosted by a poorly but decently-clad man," Ob! Mr. Gholt, if you please, there's that last parcel of Ink you 've had, sorry to be obliged to trouble a gentleman like you, sir-but my terms is cash and I'm a poor man, sir,-a wery poor man ; an' these here is hard times sir,wery hard times." "Ah, I believe there is a trifle in your favor Mears," said the other moving on and running his fingers through his luxurious wiskers, "but that last lot was terrible stuff-no getting on with it at all-could n't take half the impressions fairlyterrible work-however I'll try another halt hundred of it and yon look in early on Saturday."-" But, sir, Saturday is your"-"I know Mears, no matter come early"-and away stalks the Bear leaving the poor ink-maker uncertain how to act: an order is, however, a tempting thing in these hard times, and eventually he sends the ink,

to be sold on Saturday that Mr. Gholt must not be interrupted. In Fleet Street our editor goes into a Patent-medicine and Lazenge shop where he is all smiles and good humour,-cracks a stale joke with the assistant;-relates some recent scandal to the mister, and comes away with a newly-drawn up advertisement which he declares will be read by at least forty-five thousand subscribers to the Penny Omnibus.-On Ludgate Hill he encounters another acquaintance,-a young dashing fellow, of the ebony-cane and eye-glass species, and to him our hero is hail-fellow-well-inet. "Ah! Myrtle, my good fellow, how d'ye do? eh!"-"Morning Gholt,"is the reply"just coming to the Omnibus."-" Indeed!—why what's in the wind now? another comedy written? Or a French Vandeville anglicised! But never mind I'll back you, whatever it is." "Why no," replies the other, "its not exactly either of those-something in rather a new line."-"All the better, all the better, my dear fel low,-originality is the order of the day you know."—"'The fact is," continues the ebony and eye-glass, "it's an Epic in thirty-nine cantos, and you must know- "Oh! is that all-tell you what,

you let me have the first, twentieth, and last cantos to-night, and I'll do the thing in a nice friendly way-you may depend upon me-no fear."-By dad, Gholt, you're a noble fellow and your paper's a most independant and invaluable one and ought to be read by every body, that's what I say ""And so it is--it's read by all the world-by-the-bye, Myrtle, have you any more subscribers for me?""A few-send'em with the three cantos, bye, bye, Gholt."

In Cheapside there was a manufacturer of "Patent-ventilatingwaterproof-all-the-better-for-being-out-in-the-rain-beaver-hats" to call on, as well as an Optician, a maker of Accordions and two Patentmedicine vendors, all for fresh advertisements-Two Wine merchants in Mark Lane, an anti-combination coal-merchant in Fenchurch Street, with a shop about the size of a coal-waggon are next applied to, all with like success; then he has to speak ir to his paper-maker in Upper Thames Street, for he is in want of a fresh supply, and his credit is wavering. Coming back through Watling Street, he gropes his way up to a back-garret where he has heard a poor starving compositor lives :-he finds him, destitute and hungryjust the very man for him--one whose misery compels to work for a quarter of his usual pay, and he is told to come to the Omnibus office, receiving halt-a-crown as earnest money.

But follow him home to his office-trace the Bear to his den and mark the difference of his manner to those, who, unfortunately for them, are dependent on his employ and who are consequently his creditors and dupes.

The office of the Penny Omnibus is in a narrow court running out of Catherine Street, Strand, with a small fontage in the street and along range of low, dirty dismal buildings in the court. The window looking into the street is covered with one immense placard or puff, detailing in gigantic letters and equally gigantic language the many superiorities of the Omnibus over the other London

papers, whether daily or weekly. At night, a strong red light is burned behind this window, which throws out the colored letters in beld relief and reminds the passer-by of the near relationship of the quack-editor and the quack-doctor. The entire frontage of the fivestoried house is covered with similar placards, from the "Editor's Box" close to the scraper under the window, up to the sparrow'snests in the gutter of the roof, all telling the same varnished lies, to dupe the unwary and caution the prudent. Round the door is congregated a crowd of at least thirty men and boys, poot and wretched in the extreme, whose garb is not more varied than their countenances. There is a low murmuring of discontent amongst them which grows into actual words as our hero approaches: these are his walking advertisers-his locomotive puffers-miserable beings whose poverty induces them to perambulate the streets of the ine tropolis with huge bills twins to those on the house, pasted on boards, and either exalted at the end of a pole or swinging before and behind them, for the sum of six-pence a day, and, as their master rather humourously observes, their board.

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'Well, Jones"---begins the great Bear who sees that there is a spirit of mutiny abroad, "what is it? Never satisfied, as usual?”--"Please, sir," replies the man addressed and who appeared to be the leader of the gang: "we aint only got half our last week's pay and there's as much more owing us for the week afore, and the week afore that, and we're determined as how we aint a going for to go on in this here way." "Oh! you aint, int you," is the good natured reply, "then you must just do the other thing that's all. I won't keep grumblers on my establishment, I can tell you---Here, you Jones, come here"--- and Jones glides into the little office after him cap in hand---Jones has great influence over the others, and therefore he receives his half week's pay with six-pence a-piece for the rest of the poor hungry beings at the door. They receive it, grumbling, but Jones tells them the only chance they have of getting their arrears is to go on in the employ and a lucky day is sure to come: so away they march in a long single file, from a little man with a long board and then a tall man with a short one, keeping on the curb-stones of the streets.

All is bustle and activity in the little dark office as soon as the barley form and growling voice of the proprietor is distinguished. The window is obscured by the gigantic placard, pasted across it and the little light that only renders the gloom more cheerless, is given by a solitary candle stuck on the point of a nail on the rail of the clerk's desk, but it is not se gloomy as to prevent the "Bear" from perceiving several things left undone :-the consequence of which is a long deep growl, with an occasional scratch. "Holloah! you rascal White! I thought I told you to take that ream of demy to the Stamp office and get it stamped! Z-ds, why there's not a single thing done since I left."—" Please Sir”Deuce take you and your please sirs, --don't please me, Sir-you lazy raga-muffin !-What Grugsby !-those advertisements not collected yet!-Why, what the "You havn't signed the bills, Sir,"

side and Printed and

is the reply of Grugsby, the clerk, who lays the heap of little bills before him with the air of one who feels confident of being quite correct and has had his last week's salary. “Oh! then pray why didn't you bring them to me before I went out ?" "Not ready Sir," is the independent clerk's reply, and he continues mbbing his stumpy pen with a cool indifference that makes the blood of two printers'-devils and a press-man run cold in their veins. Grugsby is what is vulgarly called a "knowing hand,"-he knows his duties; and his master, who in his turn knows him, and also knows that he can't well do without him ;- -so the little bills are signed ́ and then the Editor shuts himself in his sanctum, an inner office distinguishable from the outer one by being much smaller, much darker and much diruer. An open sheet of the "Omnibus" would make an ample carpet for this room, where if it were spread "Price one penny" would form the border on one published for the Proprietor &c." on the other. The space is still further circumscribed by heaps of country aud Foreign Papers, -Bill-files, reams of new paper, bottles of ink, &c. &c., which lay in primitive and literary confusion, and gives the little hole an appearance of intense, red-hot business. The four panes of cracked glass which the landlord had styled a window, are adorned with a natural curtain of mind, a most ingenious and useful contrivance, inasmuch as the tax gatherer, utterly ignorant of their existence had never levied any window-tax upon them. A square deal table groaning under a weight of papers, periodicals and new works and three real imitation rush-bottom chairs complete the furnishing and gives an unique and picturesque appearance to the "Bear's Den." There are scores of real " correspondents" to reply to, the answers to which, however, do not appear in the editorial · Notices" but thro' the medium of the two-penny post, relating chiefly to sundry little accumulations of british currency and which are not in favor of the Penny Omnibus." When these have been disposed of in the customary manner,―remittances to the hard-hearted ones,-soft words to the new connexions and bullying to the easy half-witted tradesman-he has a set to in his own peculiar turn; and many are the long, labored, epistles of bombast and chicanery which he indites to his victims: there is no paper in the metropolis which for respectability and circulation can come near his, and consequently, by his shewing, there is no paper which offers so many inducements to the advertizing tradesman as the "Penny Omnibus :”look at the Stamp office returns. These disposed of, he commences replying to another,—a totally distinct set of beings-the crea tures of his brain-in other words, the Correspondents" of a London Penny Paper. Long use has given him a happy facility in this department of literature, and it is truly astonishing how naturally replies flow from his pen to queries that have never had an existence, and addressed to individuals and signatures that have in reality neither "a local habitation nor a name." X. Y. Z.'s -A. B.'s, W. F's., O's. and P's., follow each other in rapid succession, and when all the letters in the Roman Alphabet are ex