ime past showed a wish to
cultivate my acquaintance, came to me in a considerable hurry. "I am
come to beg an important favour of you," said he; "one of the county
memberships is vacant--I intend to become a candidate; what I want
immediately is a spirited address to the electors. I have been
endeavouring to frame one all the morning, but in vain; I have,
therefore, recourse to you as a person of infinite genius; pray, my dear
friend, concoct me one by the morning!" "What you require of me," I
replied, "is impossible; I have not the gift of words; did I possess it I
would stand for the county myself, but I can't speak. Only the other day
I attempted to make a speech, but left off suddenly, utterly ashamed,
although I was quite alone, of the nonsense I was uttering." "It is not
a speech that I want," said my friend; "I can talk for three hours
without hesitating, but I want an address to circulate through the
county, and I find myself utterly incompetent to put one together; do
oblige me by writing one for me, I know you can; and, if at any time you
want a person to speak for you, you may command me not for three but for
six hours. Good-morning; to-morrow I will breakfast with you." In the
morning he came again. "Well," said he, "what success?" "Very poor,"
said I; "but judge for yourself"; and I put into his hand a manuscript of
several pages. My friend read it through with considerable attention.
"I congratulate you," said he, "and likewise myself; I was not mistaken
in my opinion of you; the address is too long by at least two-thirds, or
I should rather say, that it is longer by two-thirds than addresses
generally are; but it will do--I will not curtail it of a word. I shall
win my election." And in truth he did win his election; and it was not
only his own but the general opinion that he owed it to the address.

'But, however that might be, I had, by writing the address, at last
discovered what had so long eluded my search--what I was able to do. I,
who had neither the nerve nor the command of speech necessary to
constitute the orator--who had not the power of patient research required
by those who would investigate the secrets of nature, had, nevertheless,
a ready pen and teeming imagination. This discovery decided my
fate--from that moment I became an author.'

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

TREPIDATIONS--SUBTLE PRINCIPLE--PERVERSE IMAGINATION--ARE THEY
MINE?--ANOTHER BOOK--HOW HARD!--AGRICULTURAL DINNE