of the usual, since it went back of his diplomatic career and confines itself entirely to "Lord Salisbury as Journalist." When Salisbury, at the age of twenty-seven made an unmercenary marriage, money became a matter of much moment to him. His father would not increase his allowance, English politics offer little profit to the beginner, so he began writing for the press. The Saturday Review had been started a year before and in its columns was published the series of articles on which Salisbury's rank as a journalist mainly rests. And this rank the Academy

considers a very high one. Whether the "master of flouts" gave tone to the Saturday, or, on the contrary, took tone from the Saturday, is a matter which his final biographers must seek to determine. Meanwhile a personal opinion may be recorded that the Saturday Review was in reality a creation of the future Premier's; and that, in the capacity of creator, he has left a clearer stamp on the journalism of the day than that made by any other one man of his generation. Matthew Arnold thought Disraeli was the only living statesman among his contemporaries

raeli,' the readers of the Saturday Review of July 6, 1867, were told, 'accurately estimated the weakness of his followers, and saw how easily they would yield to a little firmness'; but he has even now to do many things that they do not like. Especially he has to adopt a course that must be very trying to his subordinates. In the early part of the session he used Sir Stafford Northcote and Mr. Gathorne Hardy as his instruments for ascertaining the temper of the House. They were allowed and were encouraged to talk as if they still believed in Conservative principles; and when they flagged, the Attorney-General was 'instigated, and so forth. 'Instigated,' 'allowed,' 'used,' 'instruments,' 'subordinates' these are the flouts which pepper this article, and many another like it, week after week. The idea was to detach stragglers, and not only their grievances are imagined, but their own sufferings in the bearing of them. 'But these useful persons do not like to be put up only to be knocked down, and Mr. Disraeli has had to use humbler people as his ninepins. In the discussion on giving a third member to the great towns he found in Mr. Adderley exactly the very ninepin he most wanted; and, having stimulated him to stand up, he knocked him down completely, and with a contemptuous and almost cruel indifference.' The cynicism with which the manœuvres of the game of high politics are treated is a note of all these articles; and, for men who could bear without affront to be called 'ninepins,' there was a last insult-to be bracketed with Bright."

Literary "Impossibilities."

A little over two years ago we printed in this department ten or a dozen letters for the purpose of illustrating the sort of utterly impossible communications which make their way into the editorial offices of magazines. We published these letters without any especial enthusiasm, even a little wearily; but because we believed them to be undoubtedly amusing and because they tended to bear out our firm conviction that no Impossibility in any other walk of life is quite so utterly impossible as the Impossibility with literary aspirations. This has always been so, and it is growing more so every day. When Thackeray was the editor of the

Cornhill Magazine he contributed to that periodical a half humorous, half pathetic little Roundabout Paper entitled "Thorns on the Cushion," in which he told of the ennuis and irritations of editorial work, and the letters, pleading, abusive, threatening, insulting, which caused an editor soon to learn to hear with a shudder the knock or the whistle of the postman. In this paper he told of the indignant epistle of a little Irish actress with an imaginary grievance, of the letters enclosing a poem, a pitiful story, and a prayer for acceptance, of the pangs which went with the rejection which duty and common sense made inevitable; in fact all the thorns on the cushion which conspired to render the occupation of the chair joyless and thankless. How keenly Thackeray felt all this was shown by his speedy resignation of the editorship of the Cornhill. Yet we do not think there is an editor connected with a large magazine to-day who will not smile rather pityingly as he rereads "Thorns on the Cushion," and maintain stoutly that the troubles of which Thackeray complained were not very great, after all, when contrasted with similar troubles of the present time. You see there are ten literary Impossibilities to-day where there was one half a century ago. And that, we think, tells the story.

While part of the material of the paragraphs printed two years ago came through the mail addressed to this office, the letters which we are now printing have nothing whatever to do with THE BOOKMAN, but were received by another magazine. We are quite ready to vouch absolutely for their authenticity and for two reasons: In the first place, because of our personal knowledge of the gentleman, one of the editors of the magazine in question, who has kindly allowed us to publish them. In the second place, because as we have pointed out before, no one human mind is capable of the invention of any such series of letters. And here we wish to say that for the paragraphs which follow credit is due to Mr. Charles Hanson Towne.

There seems to be prevalent, Mr. Towne thinks, the general impression that an editor leads a secluded existence which by keeping him out of touch with

raeli,' the readers of the Saturday Review of July 6, 1867, were told, ‘accurately estimated the weakness of his followers, and saw how easily they would yield to a little firmness'; but he has even now to do many things that they do not like. Especially he has to adopt a course that must be very trying to his subordinates. In the early part of the session he used Sir Stafford Northcote and Mr. Gathorne Hardy as his instruments for ascertaining the temper of the House. They were allowed and were encouraged to talk as if they still believed in Conservative principles; and when they flagged, the Attorney-General was 'instigated, and so forth. 'Instigated,' 'allowed,' 'used,' 'instruments,' 'subordinates' these are the flouts which pepper this article, and many another like it, week after week. The idea was to detach stragglers, and not only their grievances are imagined, but their own sufferings in the bearing of them. 'But these useful persons do not like to be put up only to be knocked down, and Mr. Disraeli has had to use humbler people as his ninepins. In the discussion on giving a third member to the great towns he found in Mr. Adderley exactly the very ninepin he most wanted; and, having stimulated him to stand up, he knocked him down completely, and with a contemptuous and almost cruel indifference.' The cynicism with which the manœuvres of the game of high politics are treated is a note of all these articles; and, for men who could bear without affront to be called 'ninepins,' there was a last insult-to be bracketed with Bright."

Literary "Impossibilities."

A little over two years ago we printed in this department ten or a dozen letters for the purpose of illustrating the sort of utterly impossible communications which make their way into the editorial offices of magazines. We published these letters without any especial enthusiasm, even a little wearily; but because we believed them to be undoubtedly amusing and because they tended to bear out our firm conviction that no Impossibility in any other walk of life is quite so utterly impossible as the Impossibility with literary aspirations. This has always been so, and it is growing more so every day. When Thackeray was the editor of the

Cornhill Magazine he contributed to that periodical a half humorous, half pathetic little Roundabout Paper entitled "Thorns on the Cushion," in which he told of the ennuis and irritations of editorial work, and the letters, pleading, abusive, threatening, insulting, which caused an editor soon to learn to hear with a shudder the knock or the whistle of the postman. In this paper he told of the indignant epistle of a little Irish actress with an imaginary grievance, of the letters enclosing a poem, a pitiful story, and a prayer for acceptance, of the pangs which went with the rejection which duty and common sense made inevitable; in fact all the thorns on the cushion which conspired to render the occupation of the chair joyless and thankless. How keenly Thackeray felt all this was shown by his speedy resignation of the editorship of the Cornhill. Yet we do not think there is an editor connected with a large magazine to-day who will not smile rather pityingly as he rereads "Thorns on the Cushion," and maintain stoutly that the troubles of which Thackeray complained were not very great, after all, when contrasted with similar troubles of the present time. You see there are ten literary Impossibilities to-day where there was one half a century ago. And that, we think, tells the story.

While part of the material of the paragraphs printed two years ago came through the mail addressed to this office, the letters which we are now printing have nothing whatever to do with THE BOOKMAN, but were received by another magazine. We are quite ready to vouch absolutely for their authenticity and for two reasons: In the first place, because of our personal knowledge of the gentleman, one of the editors of the magazine in question, who has kindly allowed us to publish them. In the second place, because as we have pointed out before, no one human mind is capable of the invention of any such series of letters. And here we wish to say that for the paragraphs which follow credit is due to Mr. Charles Hanson Towne.

There seems to be prevalent, Mr. Towne thinks, the general impression that an editor leads a secluded existence which by keeping him out of touch with