The “paragon of all patience” thought lie should hear of something to his advantage if his enemy would write a book. Book-making in all forms has been a serious undertaking at all times—never more so than at present; but I am in this work free from many of the anxieties of authorship. I have not written a book : this is only a compilation. The confession will strike the intelligent reader, who may have dipped into these pages before glancing at the preface, as less necessary than that of the very “old master” who, having painted a model specimen of the feline tribe, attached the celebrated inscription—“This is a cat.”

To the making of some record of the celebration at Stratford in 1864 I felt myself bound. The festival had no ordinary purpose, neither was it of common magnitude. It appealed to the sympathies of the nation, and sought support from the entire country. The object was one which engaged the attention, and, to some extent, aroused the enthusiasm of all classes of the community. A very considerable sum of money was involved in the undertaking, and in the carrying of it out an amount of labour, mental and physical, was expended which cannot be over estimated.