You have taken leave of your readers, I must say, pretty decently. I regret, however, that you have not thought fit to disclose to the world the names of your several correspondents, and the papers for which you are indebted to them. I regret it not, believe me, from any silly curiosity, but merely from a regard for your own character. I wish you had shown (I know you could have shown) that it was not your hand which put “rancour” and “malice” and “hatred” into your fourth number; that it was not your ingenuity which coined that unlucky nullæ in your fifth. But, however--you have delivered your farewell address, and I am getting ready mine. On the 28th of July--I weep as I think of it--the Club will be dissolved, and the _Etonian_ will be no more. In the concealment of your correspondents’ names, I think I shall not imitate you. It is at present my intention to adopt a contrary line of conduct. I am actuated in this by two very opposite motives--by a feeling of modesty and a feeling of pride. Modesty induces me to take care that I may not be commended, as I have been, for writings which are another’s; and that others may not be abused, as they have been, for writings which are mine. Pride, on the other hand, compels me to wish that my name may appear in print, coupled with names which are, and long will be, a part of our most triumphant recollections. When I reflect exultingly on the powerful minds upon which Peregrine Courtenay has leaned for support, I would fain hope that in after years he may continue to share in their praises--to partake of their immortality! I shall be very sorry, Mr. Bookworm, to give up my editorship; and yet, upon second thoughts, I think I shall be very glad. To say the truth--the plain, honest, unvarnished, unsophisticated truth--editorship is a desperate bore. _Eh bien!_ I did not encounter it voluntarily! As Shakespeare says, “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them!” What a bore it is to have an idle contributor! “My dear Mr. Montgomery! your pen has been dry a long time, and we can ill do without you.” “I will go to work immediately, Mr. Courtenay; what shall it be?--another essay!” “Excellent!” “But then I’m so idle! or another Somnium?” “Admirable!” “But then I’m so idle! or another poem in the _Ottava Rima_?” “Inimitable!” “But then I’m so in-com-pre-hen-si-bly idle!” What a bore it is to be criticized by a blockhead! “Mr. Editor, the public opinion of your merits is higher than it should be.” “I beg your pardon, sir, but I think you are singular in your opinion.” “Mr. Editor, your levities are disgusting!” “I beg your pardon, sir, but I think you are mistaken!” “Mr. Editor, your impertinence is insufferable!” “I beg your pardon, sir, but I think you are----”