Silver Cord_ is continued with ten more designs (pp. 1, 29, 57, 85, 113, 141, 169, 197, 225, 253), and there is one to _Mark Bozzari_ (p. 659), translated from Müller by Sir Theodore Martin. In volume vi. Tenniel appears but four times: _At Crutchley Prior_ (p. 267), _The Fairies_ (p. 379), a very delicate fancy, _Prince Lulu_ (p. 490), and _Made to Order_ (p. 575). From the seventh and eighth volumes he is absent, and reappears in the ninth with only one drawing, _Clytè_ (p. 154), and in the tenth (Dec. 1863-June 1864) with one, _Bacchus and the Water Thieves_ (p. 658). Nor does he appear again in this magazine until 1867, with _Lord Aythan_, the frontispiece to vol. iii. of the New Series. Sir John Tenniel, however, more than any other of the _Punch_ staff, seems never thoroughly at home outside its pages. The very idea of a Tenniel drawing has become a synonym for a political cartoon; so that now you cannot avoid feeling that all his illustrations to poetry, fiction, and fairy-tale must have some satirical motive underlying their apparent purpose. [Illustration: J. E. MILLAIS 'ONCE A WEEK' VOL. I. p. 241 GRANDMOTHER'S APOLOGY] [Illustration: J. E. MILLAIS 'ONCE A WEEK' VOL. I. p. 316 THE PLAGUE OF ELLIANT] It is difficult to record Sir John Everett Millais' contributions to this magazine with level unbiassed comments. Notwithstanding the palpable loss they suffered by translation under the hands of even the most skilful of his engravers, the impressions belong to a higher plane than is reached by their neighbours save in a very few instances. The Millais wood-engravings deserve a deliberately ordered monograph as fully as do the etchings by Rembrandt and Whistler, or Hokousaï's prints. It is true that not quite all his many illustrations to contemporary literature are as good as the best works of the great artist just named; but if you search through the portfolios of the past for that purpose, you will find that even the old masters were not always adding to a cycle of masterpieces. The astounding fact remains that Sir John Millais, dealing with the hair-net and the Dundreary whiskers, the crinoline and peg-top trousers, imparted such dignity to his men and women that even now they carry their grotesque costumes with distinction, and fail to appear old-fashioned, but at most as masqueraders in fancy dress. For in Millais' work you are face to face with actual human beings, superbly drawn and fulfilling all artistic requirements. They possess the immense individuality of a Velasquez portrait, which, as a human being, appeals to you no less surely, than its handling arouses your æsthetic appreciation. At this period it seems as if the artist was overflowing with power and mastery--everything he touched sprang into life. Whether he owed much or little to his predecessors is unimportant--take away all, and still a giant remains. It is so easy to accept the early drawings of Millais