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which as boys they hailed the weekly appearance of the Journal. One or two of these may here be presented, as a curiosity.

The head-master of a large and important school in the neighbourhood of London writes as follows: You sowed the seeds of my advancement forty years ago. In a village in Cambridgeshire, there were five poor boys whose united weekly wages amounted to seven and sixpence; one of them had given him by a gentleman off the stage-coach a Chambers's Journal. The boy read it; and got four more to hear it read. I was one of them; and we agreed to take it weekly. But the difficulty was, how was it to be paid? for one shilling and sixpence a week would not afford literature. I was always presented with a halfpenny a week for the missionaries, and so were two others. The other two could not contribute; but as their share, they would walk seven miles to fetch it. For ten years we stuck together, and were able to do a great deal to educate ourselves. Now, mark the result. I am the head-master of a large and important free school; another was till lately the head-master of Queen Elizabeth's Grammar School at Bristol; another became a clergyman; the fourth is now a retired builder; and the fifth is one of the largest sheep-farmers in New Zealand.'

Another writer 'remembers how eagerly the Journal was read, in its early days, by all classes. At a country town seventeen miles from Edinburgh, a little band of young men used to walk out two or three miles on the road to intercept the carrier, and bring in the parcel of Journals consigned to the local bookseller for more immediate distribution. It was too slow work for these impatient spirits to wait delivery of the parcel in the usual course of carrier-work. Going home on the Saturdays, dozens of young men might be seen reading their copy of Chambers's by the way.'

The year that saw the beginning of Chambers's Journal brought gloom over the literary world. After an unavailing search for health in the south of Europe, Sir Walter Scott returned to Abbotsford in the course of the summer-to die. The scene was gently closed on the 21st September 1832. The funeral of this illustrious Scotchman was appointed to take place on Wednesday the 26th. Out of regard for Scott, Robert could not remain absent; and in a vehicle procured for the purpose, I accompanied him to the funeral. We felt as if taking a part in an historical pageant, amid scenery for ever embalmed by ballad and legend. The spectacle presented at the final solemnity-the large concourse of mourners clustered under the trees near the ruins of the Abbey of Dryburgh, the sonorous reading of the funeral service amidst the silent crowd, and the gloomy atmosphere overhead-is one never to be obliterated from

remembrance.

The impetus given by the success of the Journal, and the prospects that immediately ensued, had the effect of expanding a small, into a large business establishment. We never for a moment entertained a notion of transferring the publication of the Journal to any publisher outside. From past experiences, that was a species of assistance not required; neither did we need to employ the capital of others to

our

carry on the undertaking; husbanding the profits that accrued, that was enough for all purposes. From the outset, the rule was laid down never to give bills, but to pay for paper and everything else in ready-money; and after fifty years, that remains the governing principle of the firm, with at the same time a rigorous abstinence from speculations apart from own business. There, in a few words, is the secret of the now large and prosperous concern of W. & R. Chambers. From the first, there was no time lost in financial scheming, nor in any distraction of the mind to matters of a foreign character; all was concentrated in advancing the single object in view. There was no playing with Fortune, nor frittering away time with frivolities and personal indulgences. Providence had carved out a career suitable to our faculties and instincts; and that career has been strictly followed-namely, that of endeavouring to instruct and harmlessly entertain through the agency of the press. Any other course of conduct would probably have been attended, as in the case of hundreds of similar adventures, by shipwreck and lamentation. Young men of ambitious views are apparently too much in the habit of treating their assigned work in the world as if it were a bit of passing amusement. It is, on the contrary, to be viewed as a matter of earnest and very serious concern.

I shall not expatiate on the number of works small and great, designed to promote the cause of popular instruction, in which we have been from first to last engaged; it is sufficient to say that the whole have been of a character designed to impart useful knowledge in a familiar and agreeable form, and if possible, to cultivate the moral and intellectual faculties of the people. They have, in reality, been a method of educating through the medium of print. Political topics have been studiously avoided, or more properly left to the acknowledged organs of public opinion. So, likewise, matters of a religious nature have been resigned to their appropriate exponents; while no less care has been exercised to exclude subjects or references calculated to wound sentiments of delicacy or propriety. The aim throughout has been to be original and concise, without being coarse and abrupt. Our operations in literary production have not been narrowed to a country or district, but have borne reference to the English-speaking race all over the globe; the consequence being that they are perhaps as well known in the United States and in the colonies as at our own doors. Our more laborious and crowning efforts in the cause of cheap and instructive literature have consisted in the execution of several series of school treatises; and also that now pretty well-known digest, Chambers's Encyclopædia, a Dictionary of Universal Knowledge for the People, 10 vols. 8vo, of which the sale has been, and continues to be, very considerable.

It need hardly be explained that alike in editing Chambers's Journal, and in preparing the various works here indicated, we have been much indebted to a large body of contributors, and particularly to a succession of able literary assistants. The following names are worthy of being specially mentioned: Mr W. H. Wills, Mr

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Edinburgh was changed to Dunedin, which it now bears. On a late occasion, September 1880, I received a complimentary letter from the Municipal Council of Dunedin which bore an interesting reference to the circumstance. It should be added, that the plan of settlement in New Zealand according to ecclesiastical distinctions, has been long since and very properly abandoned.

From this time, business transactions took me frequently to London, where I enjoyed the acquaintance of Richard Cobden, Sir James Kaye Shuttleworth, Sir James Clark, Dr Neil Arnott, David Roberts, R.A., Douglas Jerrold, Mark Lemon, Charles Knight, the Rev. Sydney Smith, Samuel Rogers, and others. Two of these old London acquaintances still survive, Mr John Bright, M.P., and Mr Edwin Chadwick, C.B.

The manner in which I became acquainted with Sydney Smith is too remarkable to be omitted. In 1844, when residing in Greek Street, Soho, one day about noon a carriage drives up to the door; not a vehicle of the light modern sort, but an old family coach, drawn by a pair of sleek horses. From it descends an aged gentleman, who, from his shovel hat and black gaiters, is seen to be an ecclesiastical dignitary. I overhear, by the voices at the door, that I am asked for. Who in all the world can this be?' A few minutes solve the question. Heavy footsteps are heard deliberately ascending the antique balustraded stair. My unknown visitor is ushered in-his name announced: The Rev. Sydney Smith.' I hasten to receive so celebrated a personage as is befitting, and express the pleasure I have in the unexpected visit-wondering how he had discovered me. 'I heard at Rogers's, you were in town,' said he, and was resolved to call. Let us sit down and have a talk.'

We drew towards the fire, for the day was cold, and he continued: "You are surprised possibly at my visit. There is nothing at all strange about it. The originator of the Edinburgh Review has come to see the originator of the Edinburgh Journal.'

I felt honoured by the remark, and delighted beyond measure with the good-natured and unceremonious observations which my visitor made on a variety of subjects. We talked of Edinburgh, and I asked him where he had lived. He said it was in Buccleuch Place, not far from Jeffrey, with an outlook behind to the Meadows. "Ah!' he remarked, 'what charming walks I had about Arthur's Seat, with the clear mountain air blowing in one's face. I often think of that glorious scene.' I alluded to the cluster of young men-Jeffrey, Horner, Brougham, himself, and one or two others, who had been concerned in commencing the Review in 1802. Of these he spoke with most affection of Horner; and specified one who, from his vanity and eccentricities, could not be trusted. Great secrecy, he said, had to be employed in conducting the undertaking; and this agrees with what Lord Jeffrey told my brother. My reverend and facetious visitor made some little inquiry about my own early efforts; and he laughed when I reminded him of a jocularity of his own about studying on a little oatmeal-for that would have applied literally to my brother and to myself.

There was some more chat of this kind, and

we parted. This interview led to a few days of agreeable intercourse with Sydney Smith. By invitation, I went next morning to his house in Green Street, Grosvenor Square, to breakfast; and the day following, went with him to breakfast with a select party, which included my old and valued friend, Mr Robert Carruthers of Inverness, now deceased, at the mansion of Samuel Rogers, St James's, when there ensued a stream of witticisms and repartees for pretty nearly a couple of hours. This was assuredly the most pleasant conversational treat I ever experienced. On quitting London, I bade goodbye to Sydney Smith with extreme regret. We never met again. He died in February the following year.

There were two lady authoresses by whose acquaintanceship I felt honoured; each remarkable for delicacy of taste, discrimination of character, and facility of description, with a keen sense of humour. The first of these to be mentioned was Mrs Anna Maria Hall, the wife of Mr S. C. Hall. Of English parentage, but born and educated in Ireland, Mrs Hall was essentially Irish in her quickness of apprehension, her vivacity, and geniality of disposition. She wrote for us a large number of Stories of the Irish Peasantry, each with a distinct moral purpose, that were much appreciated by the readers of Chambers's Journal, of which she was always an acceptable contributor. She resided with her husband at a pretty villa, at Brompton, called The Rosary; and there, every time Í was in London, I was happy in making occasional visits.

The other lady authoress I have just referred to was Miss Mitford, who lived at a pleasant roadside cottage, environed by flowers and shrubs, in the neighbourhood of Reading, Berkshire. It was a short run by rail from London, and at every opportunity, I paid a visit to this charming old lady. In her character, she was a matchless specimen of a well-educated Englishwoman, correct in taste and feeling, clever and self-reliant. As a describer of rural life and scenery in their happiest and most genial aspects, she is allowed to have been unrivalled. Although considerably advanced in life, she had the liveliness and winning manners of a child. Some women never seem to grow old, and she was one of them. Her tongue ran on so incessantly concerning the details of village life, that each of my visits might have afforded the materials of a popular article. Short in stature, and with a tall, gold-headed cane in hand, she invited me to walk with her through the adjoining green lanes in the neighbourhood; at every step the trees, wild flowers, and birds, offering objects of garrulous remark. She was not the least reticent regarding her own history. She told me how, ever since girlhood, she had been thrown on her own resources, through her father, Dr Mitford's singular indiscretion and extravagance. He had spent a fortune, and even squandered twenty thousand pounds, the proceeds of a prize in the lottery. After all was gone, he had to depend on the industry of his daughter, who supported him with her pen. I have known several cases of fathers oppressing children by their heedless misconduct, but never one so bad as this. By a thriftless parent, who

the young gentleman, who claimed an interest in the property, that if the articles were sent to be disposed of by public auction in London, they would certainly bring a larger price than if sold in Paris. To this hint, he bowed, but made no remark. I presume the collection was broken up and sold shortly afterwards.

To show me the way to this ancient out-of-theway mansion, I was obligingly accompanied by my friend, Mr Mackellar Robertson, a Scotchman settled in Paris, in a street near the Port StDenis, from whom I experienced numerous acts of hospitality, and who was untiring in his friendly attentions to his countrymen. His residence, forming a commodious and prettily furnished étage; also his wife, Madame Robertson; and a young lady cousin, along with their pet dog, Buck, a species of Skye terrier, of great sagacity, and affectionate disposition, are printed indelibly on my memory. The group was unique. All are now dead and gone. The faithful Buck attended the funeral of each member of the family in succession. When the last had disappeared, he lay down in an agony of despair, and with a mournful cry, which spoke the depth of his emotion, expired. It was a striking instance of the attachment of the dog to those who had been kind to him, and whom he loved. No one will say that dogs do not sometimes die of a broken heart!

In the course of a conversation with Mr Robertson concerning the political condition of France, I said I could not recollect having anywhere seen how the post-letters in Paris were delivered, if delivered at all, on the days when fighting took place on the streets, and cannon were firing at the barricades set up by revolutionists; that I did not quite understand how the postmen managed on these occasions. In reply, I learned that in the execution of their duty, the postmen on such occasions ordinarily went their rounds as usual; that when they came to a place where there was desperate fighting, they took refuge in a doorway or common-stair for a few minutes until the volley was fired, and then resumed their perambulations; that these Frenchmen, in fact, encountered dangers of this sort with marvellous bravery, though often running extraordinary risks. One day in which the fighting had been very severe on the adjacent Boulevard, the postman arrived with letters, and pointing to a round hole which had been made by a bullet in passing through his hat, only jocularly remarked that it was fort drôle. Had the bullet passed a few inches lower, the poor fellow must have been inevitably shot dead, an innocent victim of revolutionary violence.

of some sort could not be long postponed. The coup d'état and assumption of despotic power by Napoleon III. did not at all surprise me. Å tyrannical despotism has in all ages been the natural sequence of impending anarchy.

In 1853, I crossed the Atlantic in a Cunard steamer, and visited Nova Scotia, Canada, and the United States, of which an account was afterwards published. What I saw of the growth of large cities, of vigorous manufacturing industries, and other evidences of prosperity in the States, was exceedingly gratifying. The kindly hospitality extended to me everywhere was heartily appreciated. By Franklin Pierce, then President of the United States, I was affably received at the White House. My brother, Robert, afterwards visited the States; he also made an excursion through Norway, and visited Iceland, of all which he wrote an account in the Journal.

At the time I commenced the Journal, the duty on paper paid by the manufacturer was threepence per pound-weight, which formed a grievous burden on every sort of publication. About 1840, publishers generally began to make earnest efforts to get rid of this tax, which pressed with special cruelty on the cheaper class of works. In this movement, which on a lesser scale resembled the Corn Law agitation, I took a somewhat conspicuous part. There were good reasons for my doing so. The Miscellany of Useful and Entertaining Tracts, issued by W. & R. Chambers, and which extended to twenty shilling volumes, with a circulation of eighty thousand copies, was absolutely choked to death by the tax. The anticipated profits on the work were literally nothing, for the whole had been absorbed by the duties on paper. The government, with no trouble or risk, having got all the profits on this popular little work, it was given up. Cases of this kind were impressed on the attention of the legislature. Mr Milner Gibson, M.P., zealously helped the movement, which was at length successful. The repeal of the paper-duty took effect on October 1, 1861. Already, in 1853, the advertisement duty, eighteenpence each, had been removed; and in 1855, the newspaper stamp was abolished; wherefore, with the abolition of the paper-duty, 1861, the press in all its departments was set thoroughly free from fiscal exactions. In these few facts, young people will learn how newspapers have been so wondrously cheapened and extended in circulation.

In the spring and summer of 1862, I was able to fulfil a long-desired wish to visit Italy. The journey was not easily performed, for there were still few railways. I had to begin by being dragged in a diligence amidst the snow, across Mont Cenis; and there were other difficulties. But I was rewarded by the visit to Rome, Florence, Milan, Naples, Pompeii, and Vesuvius; of all which I gave an account in a volume entitled Something of Italy.

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