We are not about to write an advertisement for this advertised of all advertisers--nor to talk of its square feet--its crowded broadside--or the myriads of letters that make it resemble a sea of animalculae. We are content to leave all the pride of its machinery to Messrs. Applegath and Cowper, and the clang of its engine to the peaceful purlieus of Printing-house Square. Yet these are interesting items in the advancement of science, and in the history of mankind; for whether taken mechanically or morally, the _Times_ is, without exception, the newspaper of all newspapers, "the observed of all _observers_" and altogether, the most extraordinary production of this or any other age.
But we are more anxious to reach what may be called the philosophy of a newspaper--that broad volume of human life, in which "the follies, vices, and consequent miseries of multitudes are displayed." To prove this, only let the reader glance over the twenty-four columns of a Times newspaper, and attempt a calculation of the many thousand events that spring from and are connected with their contents. Yet this sheet is but as it were a day in the life of man--a mere thread of the mingled yarn of his existence--and 313 such sheets, or 1,252 such folios make but a year of his history. The subject is too vast and comprehensive for continued contemplation, for it is like all other wheels of vicissitude; we become giddy by looking too steadfastly on its twinings.
Let us take one side of any recent _Times _newspaper--say that of _Thursday last_--and attempt something like an abstract of its _memorabilia_. This may appear for us a toilsome task, but if the reader be not fatigued also, our time will not be misspent. Begin "at the beginning" with the old English title, broken by the royal arms--like a blocking-course; and the No. and date in a sort of typographical entablature. The first side is filled by 188 advertisements, for the most part, classed according to their objects.
Thus, we start, and not unappropriately, with notices of vessels _to sail_ for India and the new settlement on _Swan River_. What temptations for adventure and avarice--what associations of industry and indolence--luxury and squalid misery--do these announcements create in the reflective mind. The nabob in his chintz--the speculator with his last hundred--and the half-starved agriculturist--are but sorry portraits beside the class to whom the next notice is addressed.--Packets to Calais, Dieppe, and Margate--necessity on her last leg, and luxury on the fantastic toe--the wasted mind and famished visage beside hoyden mirth and bloated luxury. Then the South American Mining Association Deed "lies for signature:"--what a relief in this sheet of _chiaro-scuro_--a kind of tinsel to set off its grave parts, with gold dust enough to blind half its readers. To this little flash of golden light succeeds shade--Chancery and creditors' notices--proving debts and consciences--followed by civil contracts for Bridewell and building a Lunatic Asylum in Kent. The association is too obvious, and verily, the maker-up of the Times newspaper is a Hogarth in his way; for what Hogarth did with pencil and brush, he does with metallic types. Next is a Saw Mill to be sold cheap, constructed for the express purpose of being sent to the Swan River settlement--how fortunate--for surely any idle wight would make his way with such assistance, especially as the machine is "on improved principles." _Luxury_ again--paper-hangings, French lamps, and French roses--_necessity_ again--Money on mortgage, and bills discounted: how obvious the connexion--the very cause and effect--the lamps will not burn without oil, and the roses will not bloom without money--at least they will only waste their fragrance in the desert air of the nursery-ground.