Gradually the world of readers began to know that there was a speciality of humour to be found in its pages,--fun and sense, satire and good humour, compressed together in small literary morsels as the nature of its columns required. Gradually the name of Thackeray as one of the band of brethren was buzzed about, and gradually became known as that of the chief of the literary brothers. But during the years in which he did much for _Punch_, say from 1843 to 1853, he was still struggling to make good his footing in literature. They knew him well in the _Punch_ office, and no doubt the amount and regularity of the cheques from Messrs. Bradbury and Evans, the then and still owners of that happy periodical, made him aware that he had found for himself a satisfactory career. In "a good day for himself, the journal, and the world, Thackeray found _Punch_." This was said by his old friend Shirley Brooks, who himself lived to be editor of the paper and died in harness, and was said most truly. _Punch_ was more congenial to him, and no doubt more generous, than _Fraser_. There was still something of the literary Bohemian about him, but not as it had been before. He was still unfixed, looking out for some higher career, not altogether satisfied to be no more than one of an anonymous band of brothers, even though the brothers were the brothers of _Punch_. We can only imagine what were his thoughts as to himself and that other man, who was then known as the great novelist of the day,--of a rivalry with whom he was certainly conscious. _Punch_ was very much to him, but was not quite enough. That must have been very clear to himself as he meditated the beginning of _Vanity Fair_.