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Advertisements are of great use to the vulgar. First of all, as
they are instruments of ambition. A man read more
Advertisements are of great use to the vulgar. First of all, as
they are instruments of ambition. A man that is by no means big
enough for the Gazette, may easily creep into the advertisements;
by which means we often see an apothecary in the same paper of
news with a plenipotentiary, or a running footman with an
ambassador.
When found, make a note of.
When found, make a note of.
The public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything. Except what is worth knowing. Journalism, conscious of this, and having read more
The public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything. Except what is worth knowing. Journalism, conscious of this, and having tradesman-like habits, supplies their demands.
You (reporters) should have printed what he meant, not what he said.
You (reporters) should have printed what he meant, not what he said.
They consume a considerable quantity of our paper manufacture,
employ our artisans in printing, and find business for great read more
They consume a considerable quantity of our paper manufacture,
employ our artisans in printing, and find business for great
numbers of indigent persons.
I hope we never live to see the day when a thing is as bad as some of our newspapers read more
I hope we never live to see the day when a thing is as bad as some of our newspapers make it
Did Charity prevail, the press would prove
A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love.
Did Charity prevail, the press would prove
A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love.
A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon,
A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,
Condemn'd to drudge, the read more
A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon,
A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,
Condemn'd to drudge, the meanest of the mean,
And furbish falsehoods for a magazine.
Only a newspaper! Quick read, quick lost,
Who sums the treasure that it carries hence?
Torn, trampled read more
Only a newspaper! Quick read, quick lost,
Who sums the treasure that it carries hence?
Torn, trampled under feet, who counts thy cost,
Star-eyed intelligence?
