HENRY M. STANLEY in the same number of this Mag.

[Illustration]

What the Baron dearly loves is, ELLIOT STOCK-IN-TRADE _The Book-worm_,
always most interesting to Book-worms, and almost as interesting to
Book-grubs or Book-butterflies. By the way, the publishing office of
_The Book-worm_ ought to be in Grub Street. For what sort of fish is
_The Book-worm_ an attractive bait? I suppose there are queer fish in
the Old Book trade that can take in any number of Book-worms, as is
shown from a modern instance, well and wisely commented upon in this
very number for January, No. 38, which is excellent food for worms;
the whole series, indeed, must be a very Diet of Worms. Success to
the _Book-worm_! May it grow to double the size, and be a glow-worm,
to enlighten us in the bye-paths of literature. "_Prosit!_" says the
Baron.

I would that some one would write of BROWNING's work as HENRY VAN DYKE
has written of TENNYSON's. To the superficial and cursory reader of
the Laureate, the Baron, sitting by the fire on a winter's night, the
wind howling over the sea, and the snow drifting against the window,
and being chucked in handfuls down the chimney, and frizzling on the
fire, says, get this book, published by ELKIN MATHEWS: _ça donne
à penser_, and this is its great merit. "Come into the Garden,
Maud"--no, thank you, not to-night; but give me my shepherd's pipe,
with the fragrant bird's-eye in it, with [Greek: ton grogon], while I
sit by the cheerful fire, in the best of good company--my books.

Our Mr. GRIFFITHES (CHESTER, MAYHEW, BROOME, AND GRIFFITHES) has been
all the way _From Bedford Row to Swazieland_, and has written a lively