But to proceed with my account of our other Papers: The Expiration of
Bickerstaff's Lucubrations, was attended with much the same Consequences
as the Death of Melibæus's Ox in Virgil; as the latter engendred Swarms
of Bees, the former immediately produc'd whole Swarms of little
Satyrical Scriblers.

One of these Authors, call'd himself The GROWLER, and assur'd us, that
to make amends for Mr. Steele's Silence, he was resolv'd to Growl at us
Weekly, as long as we should think fit to give him any Encouragement.
Another Gentleman, with more Modesty, call'd his Paper The WHISPERER;
and a Third, to Please the Ladies, Christen'd his, The TELL-TALE.

At the same time came out several TATLERS; each of which, with equal
Truth and Wit, assur'd us, That he was the Genuine Isaac Bickerstaff.

It may be observ'd, That when the Esquire laid down his Pen, tho' he
could not but foresee that several Scriblers would soon snatch it up,
which he might, one would think, easily have prevented, he Scorn'd to
take any further Care about it, but left the Field fairly open to any
Worthy Successor. Immediately some of our Wits were for forming
themselves into a Club, headed by one Mr. Barrison, and trying how they
could shoot in this Bow of Ulysses; but soon found that this sort of
Writing, requires so fine and particular a manner of Thinking, with so
exact a Knowledge of the World, as must make them utterly Despair of
Success.

They seem'd indeed at first to think, that what was only the Garnish of
the former TATLERS, was that which recommended them, and not those
Substantial Entertainments which they every where abound in.