dit it. _Macmillan's_, I think, was the first of the
shilling magazines, having preceded _The Cornhill_ by a month, and it
would ill become me, who have been a humble servant to each of them, to
give to either any preference. But it must be acknowledged that a great
deal was expected from _The Cornhill_, and I think it will be confessed
that it was the general opinion that a great deal was given by it.
Thackeray had become big enough to give a special _eclat_ to any
literary exploit to which he attached himself. Since the days of _The
Constitutional_ he had fought his way up the ladder and knew how to take
his stand there with an assurance of success. When it became known to
the world of readers that a new magazine was to appear under Thackeray's
editorship, the world of readers was quite sure that there would be a
large sale. Of the first number over one hundred and ten thousand were
sold, and of the second and third over one hundred thousand. It is in
the nature of such things that the sale should fall off when the novelty
is over. People believe that a new delight has come, a new joy for ever,
and then find that the joy is not quite so perfect or enduring as they
had expected. But the commencement of such enterprises may be taken as a
measure of what will follow. The magazine, either by Thackeray's name or
by its intrinsic merits,--probably by both,--achieved a great success.
My acquaintance with him grew from my having been one of his staff from
the first.

About two months before the opening day I wrote to him suggesting that
he should accept from me a series of four short stories on which I was
engaged. I got back a long letter in which he said nothing about my
short stories, but asking whether I could go to work at once and let him
have a long novel, so that it might begin with the first number. At the
same time I heard from the publisher, who suggested some interesting
little details as to honorarium. The little details were very
interesting, but absolutely no time was allowed to me. It was required
that the first portion of my book should be in the printer's hands
within a month. Now it was my theory,--and ever since this occurrence
has been my practice,--to see the end of my own work before the public
should see the commencement.[4] If I did this thing I must not only
abandon my theory, but instantly contrive a story, or begin to write it
before it was contrived. That was what I did, urged by the interesting
n