what was contrived by the intellectual skill of many, has been accomplished by the physical energies of a few, and the first number of the “yale literary magazine,” is now before the public. but, dropping this johnsonian magnificence, indulgent reader, so little consonant with the tremulous anxiety with which we pen these closing lines—how are you pleased? as you have glanced from one article to another, till your eye meets this last page, has your brow been gathering a frown, or has a pleasant smile lit up your features? in either case, but especially the former, we pray you to remember, that in preparing this number, we have, in some respects, labored at a disadvantage. our utter inexperience in the mechanical portion of the work—the distracting influence of the intervening vacation—with some other petty troubles, will, with your indulgence, account for some of the errors, which your sagacity has, doubtless, ere this discovered.

a word or two, now, of self-gratulation.—our prospects are encouraging. our subscription list fully equals our expectations—communications are abundant—(alas! too much so, one might say, looking at the melancholy number of rejections,) and we have hardly heard one croaking voice, foreboding failure. we are confident in the assertion, that the future numbers will be superior in external appearance, and not a whit inferior in literary merit.

to those who have furnished communications for the present number, we render our sincere thanks, and request a continuance of their favors. to all we would extend a general invitation, ‘to send us pieces’—asking of each ‘according to his ability,’—from the gay trifling of wit, to the sober morality of wisdom—in prose, or in verse—in long, or in short.

we were prevented, by divers mischances, from issuing this number on the day it was due; and the same reason will account for the absence of an intended engraving from the cover.