'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 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 LXVI.

Trepidations--Subtle Principle--Perverse Imagination--Are they
Mine?--Another Book--How Hard!--Agricultural Dinner--Incomprehensible
Actions--Inmost Bosom--Give it Up--Chance Resemblance--Rascally
Newspaper.

"An author," said I, addressing my host; "is it possible that I am under
the roof of an author?"

"Yes," said my host, sighing, "my name is so and so, and I am the author
of so and so; it is more than probable that you have heard both of my
name and works. I will not detain you much longer with my history; the
night is advancing, and the storm appears to be upon the increase. My
life since the period of my becoming an author may be summed briefly as
an almost uninterrupted series of doubts, anxieties, and trepidations. I
see clearly that it is not good to love anything immoderately in this
world, but it has been my misfortune to love immoderately everything on
which I have set my heart. This is not good, I repeat--but where is the
remedy? The ancients were always in the habit of saying, 'Practise
moderation,' but the ancients appear to have considered only one portion
of the subject. It is very possible to practise moderation in some
things, in drink and the like--to restrain the appetites--but can a man
restrain the affections of his mind, and tell them, so far you shall go,
and no farther? Alas, no! for the mind is a subtle principle, and cannot
be confine