the greetings of others, and for my own part will invite
the goldenest silence of his sect to muse a fitting tribute to the verse
in which a brave and beautiful and lofty life is enshrined.

As to the periodical which unites us all, without rivalry, without
jealousy, the publisher has already spoken, and where there is so much
for the editor to say he cannot, perhaps, say too little. For twenty
years it has represented, and may almost be said to have embodied,
American letters. With scarcely an exception, every name known in our
literature has won fame from its pages, or has added lustre to them; and
an intellectual movement, full of a generous life and of a high ideal,
finds its record there in vastly greater measure than in any or all
other places. Its career is not only distinguished among American
periodicals, but upon the whole is unique. It would not be possible, I
think, to point to any other publication of its sort, which so long
retained the allegiance of its great founders, and has added so
constantly so many names of growing repute to its list of writers. Those
who made its renown, as well as those whose renown it has made or is
making, are still its frequent contributors, and even in its latest
years have done some of their best work in it. If from time to time a
valued "Atlantic" writer ceases to appear, he is sure, finally, to
reappear; he cannot even die without leaving it a rich legacy of
manuscript. All young writers are eager to ally their names with the
great memories and presences on its roll of fame; its stamp gives a new
contributor immediate currency; it introduces him immediately into the
best public, the best company, the company of those Boston authors who
first inspired it with the life so vigorous yet. It was not given us all
to be born in Boston, but when we find ourselves in the "Atlantic" we
all seem to suffer a sea-change, an aesthetic renaissance; a livelier
literary conscience stirs in us; we have its fame at heart; we must do
our best for Maga's name as well as for our own hope; we are naturalized
Bostonians in the finest and highest sense. With greater reverence and
affection than we can express, we younger and youngest writers for the
Atlantic regard the early contributors whom we are so proud and glad to
meet here, and it is with a peculiar sense of my own unworthiness that I
salute them, and join the publishers in welcoming them to this board.

I know very well the difference betwe