word and truncheon, may you mount the car, and ride
to the temple of Jupiter. Be yours the laurel then. Neque me myrtus
dedecet, looking cosily down from the arbor where I sit under the arched
vine.

I fancy the Imperator standing on the steps of the temple (erected
by Titus) on the Mons Frumentarius, and addressing the citizens:
"Quirites!" he says, "in our campaign of six months, we have been
engaged six times, and in each action have taken near upon a HUNDRED
THOUSAND PRISONERS. Go to! What are other magazines compared to
our magazine? (Sound, trumpeter!) What banner is there like that of
Cornhill? You, philosopher yonder!" (he shirks under his mantle.)
"Do you know what it is to have a hundred and ten thousand readers?
A hundred thousand readers? a hundred thousand BUYERS!" (Cries of
"No!"--"Pooh!" "Yes, upon my honor!" "Oh, come!" and murmurs of applause
and derision)--"I say more than a hundred thousand purchasers--and 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 fringe