se he played a part at last
in the crisis of our fortunes. So much came to us that it seemed to
me at times as though the whole world of human affairs was ready to
prostitute itself to our real and imaginary millions. As I look back,
I am still dazzled and incredulous to think of the quality of our
opportunities.

We did the most extraordinary things; things that it seems absurd to
me to leave to any casual man of wealth and enterprise who cares to do
them. I had some amazing perceptions of just how modern thought and the
supply of fact to the general mind may be controlled by money. Among
other things that my uncle offered for, he tried very hard to buy the
British Medical Journal and the Lancet, and run them on what he called
modern lines, and when they resisted him he talked very vigorously for a
time of organising a rival enterprise. That was a very magnificent idea
indeed in its way; it would have given a tremendous advantage in the
handling of innumerable specialties and indeed I scarcely know how
far it would not have put the medical profession in our grip. It still
amazes me--I shall die amazed--that such a thing can be possible in the
modern state. If my uncle failed to bring the thing off, some one
else may succeed. But I doubt, even if he had got both these weeklies,
whether his peculiar style would have suited them. The change of purpose
would have shown. He would have found it difficult to keep up their
dignity.

He certainly did not keep up the dignity of the Sacred Grove,
an important critical organ which he acquired one day--by saying
"snap"--for eight hundred pounds. He got it "lock, stock and
barrel"--under one or other of which three aspects the editor was
included. Even at that price it didn't pay. If you are a literary person
you will remember the bright new cover he gave that representative organ
of British intellectual culture, and how his sound business instincts
jarred with the exalted pretensions of a vanishing age. One old wrapper
I discovered the other day runs:--

"THE SACRED GROVE."

Weekly Magazine of Art, Philosophy, Science and
Belles Lettres.
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HAVE YOU A NASTY TASTE IN YOUR MOUTH?
IT IS LIVER.

YOU NEED ONE TWENTY-THREE PILL.

(JUST ONE.)

NOT A DRUG BUT A LIVE AMERICAN REMEDY.
-----------------------------------------------

CONTENTS.

A Hitherto Unpublished Lette