The plan of this new journal had originated with John Murray, the famous publisher, and had received the hearty support of Walter Scott, Egbert Southey, Canning, Rose, Disraeli, and Hookham Frere. The first number, containing three articles by Walter Scott, was published on the 1st February, 1809, and was immediately sold out, a second edition being called for. Canning wrote for the second number, and Southey became a constant and most prolific contributor. "For the first hundred and twenty-six numbers he wrote ninety-four articles, many of them of great permanent value."[27] At John Murray's "drawing-rooms," where the leading literary men of the day were wont to assemble at four o'clock, Gifford met with a brilliant assemblage of poets, novelists, historians, artists, and others. Murray the publisher delighted "to gather together such men as Byron, Scott, Moore, Campbell, Southey, Gifford, Hallam, Lockhart, Washington Irving, and Mrs. Somerville; and, more than this, he invited such artists as Lawrence, Wilkie, Phillips, Newton, and Pickersgill, to meet them and paint them, that they might hang forever on his walls."[28] It was in reference to one of Murray's "publishers' dinners" Byron wrote the lines in which occurs the following allusion to Gifford: "A party dines with me to-day, All clever men who make their way; Crabbe, Malcolm, Hamilton, and Chantrey Are all partakers of my pantry. My room's so full--we've Gifford here, Reading MS. with Hookham Frere, Pronouncing on the nouns and particles Of some of our forthcoming articles." [27] "History of Booksellers." H. Curwen. Chatto & Windus. P. 175. [28] Ibid., pp. 180, 181. A writer in the _Literary Gazette_,[29] who had the pleasure of Gifford's personal acquaintance, has made the following interesting notes upon his private character, and his conduct as an editor. "He never stipulated for any salary as editor; at first he received £200, and at last £900 per annum, but never engaged for a particular sum. He several times returned money to Murray, saying 'he had been too liberal.' Perhaps he was the only man on this side the Tweed who thought so! He was perfectly indifferent about wealth, I do not know a better proof of this than the fact that he was richer, by a very considerable sum, at the time of his death than he was at all aware of. In unison with his contempt of money was his disregard of any external distinction; he had a strong natural aversion to anything like pomp or parade. Yet he was by no means insensible to an honorable distinction, and when the University of Oxford, about two years before his death, offered to give him a doctor's degree, he observed, 'Twenty years ago it would have been gratifying, but now it would only be written on my coffin.' [29] Quoted in "The Lives of Eminent Englishmen." Fullarton _&_ Co., Glasgow, 1838. Vol. viii. pp. 317, 318.