I believe as much as A million readers!” (Immense sensation.) “To these have we said an unkind word?  We have enemies; have we hit them an unkind blow?  Have we sought to pursue party aims, to forward private jobs, to advance selfish schemes?  The only persons to whom wittingly we have given pain are some who have volunteered for our corps—­and of these volunteers we have had thousands.” (Murmurs and grumbles.) “What commander, citizens, could place all these men!—­could make officers of all these men?” (cries of “No—­no!” and laughter)—­“could say, ’I accept this recruit, though he is too short for our standard, because he is poor, and has a mother at home who wants bread?’ could enroll this other, who is too weak to bear arms, because he says, ’Look, sir, I shall be stronger anon.’  The leader of such an army as ours must select his men, not because they are good and virtuous, but because they are strong and capable.  To these our ranks are ever open, and in addition to the warriors who surround me”—­(the generals look proudly conscious)—­“I tell you, citizens, that I am in treaty with other and most tremendous champions, who will march by the side of our veterans to the achievement of fresh victories.  Now, blow, trumpets!  Bang, ye gongs! and drummers, drub the thundering skins!  Generals and chiefs, we go to sacrifice to the gods.”

Crowned with flowers, the captains enter the temple, the other Magazines walking modestly behind them.  The people huzza; and, in some instances, kneel and kiss the fringes of the robes of the warriors.  The Philosopher puts up his shutters, and retires into his shop, deeply moved.  In ancient times, Pliny (apud Smith) relates it was the custom of the Imperator “to paint his whole body a bright red;” and, also, on ascending the Hill, to have some of the hostile chiefs led aside “to the adjoining prison, and put to death.”  We propose to dispense with both these ceremonies.

THORNS IN THE CUSHION.

In the Essay with which this volume commences, the Cornhill Magazine was likened to a ship sailing forth on her voyage, and the captain uttered a very sincere prayer for her prosperity.  The dangers of storm and rock, the vast outlay upon ship and cargo, and the certain risk of the venture, gave the chief officer a feeling of no small anxiety; for who could say from what quarter danger might arise, and how his owner’s property might be imperilled?  After a six months’ voyage, we with very thankful hearts could acknowledge our good fortune:  and, taking up the apologue in the Roundabout manner, we composed a triumphal procession in honor of the Magazine, and imagined the Imperator thereof riding in a sublime car to return thanks in the Temple of Victory.  Cornhill is accustomed to grandeur and greatness, and has witnessed, every ninth of November, for I don’t know how many centuries, a prodigious annual pageant, chariot, progress,