always.' Bien. It is because I wish him to remain so that I and the magazine had better part company. Good-bye and God bless you and all yours. W. M. T. Now that the Cornhill' has fulfilled its vigorous fiftieth year, it is impossible for those nearly connected with it not to look back with pride at its faithful career. The words of the Psalmist come to one's mind— Using no deceit in his tongue, nor doing evil to his neighbour, swearing to his neighbour and disappointing him not, though it were to his own hindrance.' Such words most fitly speak of a history which is, happily, not ended. AN IMPROMPTU TO THE EDITOR. BY THOMAS HARDY. YES; your up-dated modern page— Can claim a time-tried lineage That reaches backward fifty years, -Here, on your cover, never tires Each wills to work in ancient style Though modes have since moved many a mile! The steel-roped plough now rips the vale, And wire-work hurls the wheat like hail; But if we ask, what has been done Since your bright leaves first saw the sun Beyond mechanic furtherance-what Despite your volumes' gentle aim Though I admit that there have been -Had custom tended to prolong, And men's invention been retained THE JUBILEE OF THE CORNHILL. 1001. CORNHILL MAGAZINE, from its commencement to the present time, illustrated with several hundred engravings, clean, in the original wrappers, in all 599 parts, forming 100 volumes. A Bargain, being a remarkably cheap series of this important and interesting periodical, from the library of a gentleman in the country, containing most valuable information not to be found elsewhere, contributed by writers of eminence, on subjects biographical, historical, literary, &c., and stories by the most celebrated writers of fiction. Invaluable to the general reader. I NEVER come upon an entry of this sort in a catalogue without a certain pleasure, which the bookseller's zeal cannot utterly destroy, nor yet without a certain pang, which his wiles cannot wholly assuage. Habent sua fata libelli! So, then, popular magazines which in these days one sees casually bought, roughly opened, lightly discarded-the moment's plaything of a listless reader in the railway—were once carefully stored, each number set scrupulously in its appointed place, preserved in the original wrappers,' too, and 'clean'; yes, and by readers not a few are so kept even unto No. 599-not the least valued possession, it may be, in some King's treasury' of the rectory, the manse, or the house in the wold. In looking up an old volume of the CORNHILL the other day, I came upon A Scribbler's Apology.' It is unsigned, but was written, if I mistake not, by a valued contributor whose articles on popular science were for many years one of the attractions of the Magazine. He seems to have had a premonition that before long he would lay aside his pen for ever. He makes his retrospect and concludes, in the scribbler's favour, that he has been earning his livelihood, not indeed like the shoemaker with a clear consciousness of social worth, but in a relatively harmless and unblameworthy fashion.' It is a too modest claim. The thoughts, the information, the reflections contributed by him and hundreds of scribblers' besides, on other subjects, have fired many a spark, aroused many an interest, thrown light on many a dark place, we cannot doubt, among thousands of readers. The CORNHILL, or other favourite magazine, has been the monthly visitor, eagerly expected, gladly welcomed, and sometimes, as we have seen, never allowed to leave. And in this continuity of life even the occasional article by some unknown pen-the happy thought which perhaps once only moved an else silent mind to effective expression, or the one successful essay, it may be, of an often-rejected contributor-shares equal place, by right of inclusion between the yellow covers, with the papers of some great master of style, or the stories by the most celebrated writers of fiction.' Such are the pleasant thoughts which my bookseller's catalogue suggests, not inappropriately, I think, in connexion with the Jubilee of the CORNHILL. But then comes the pang, 'A complete set of the CORNHILL.' It is to be found in many libraries, public and private. But of the many copies printed of each number, how few, in the case of any magazine, can ever hope to survive! And then, even when each copy has been preserved, there arrives the time of dispersal or dissolution. What will be the fate of my bookseller's set? Honoured place and worthy binding, let us hope (with a good impression of the cover duly pasted in), in some other library. But sets are often broken up, and the disjointed members enjoy but a precarious spell of life. A large mass of the literature contributed to magazines is doomed by inevitable laws to oblivion. One reads a striking article, and says 'I must keep this' or 'make a note of that.' But few of us do it. The CORNHILL, however, by resolute adherence to one good practice, encourages us. It is lightly stitched with honest thread, and the favourite article can be readily taken out for preservation, if we will. The inventor of wire-stapling, which prevents ready opening of the pages, which rusts and which requires a carpenter's operation for its removal, will have to endure, I warn him, long years of penance in the bookman's purgatory. Thackeray's latest books, the last pages of Charlotte Brontë, the first appearances of many a poem by Tennyson, Robert Browning, Mrs. Browning, Meredith and Swinburne, and of many a collected volume by Matthew Arnold, by John Addington Symonds, by Leslie Stephen, by Robert Louis Stevenson and a host of other writers of eminence,' are all to be found in the back numbers of the CORNHILL. If a book-lover has not the requisite space to keep the whole set of the CORNHILL, what a collection of first editions' he might make by cutting its threads! But this is a counsel of perfection which few follow. A back number!' It has become a proverbial phrase for what is dead and done with. Many of the contributions made by the great men survive, indeed, in collected books; but they are often prodigals, and discard much |