My first intention was not to go again to _The Spectator_ office,
the place where I was so obviously not wanted, but I remembered that my
father had told me that it was always the custom to return books as soon
as the proofs were corrected or the articles had appeared. I determined,
therefore, that I would do the proper thing, though I felt rather shy,
and feared I might be looked upon as "cadging" for work.

With my books under my arm I walked off to Wellington Street, on a
Tuesday morning, and went up to Mr. Hutton's room, where on that day the
two editors used to spend the greater part of the morning discussing the
coming issue of the paper. I had prepared a nice little impromptu
speech, which was to convey in unmistakable terms that I had not come to
ask for more books; "I fully realise and fully acquiesce in your
inability to use my work." When I went in I was most cordially received,
and almost immediately Mr. Hutton asked me to look over a pile of new
books and see if there was anything there I would like. This appeared to
be my cue, and I accordingly proceeded to explain that I had not come to
ask for more books but only to bring back the two books I had already
reviewed and to thank the editors. I quite understood that there was no
more work for me.

Then, to my amazement, Mr. Townsend, with that vividness of expression
which was his, said something to the effect that they had only said that
when they didn't know that I could write. The position, it appeared, had
been entirely changed by the review of _Gulliver's Travels_ and
they hoped very much that I should be able to do regular work for _The
Spectator_. Mr. Hutton chimed in with equally kind and appreciative
words, and I can well remember the pleasant confusion caused in my mind
by the evident satisfaction of my future chiefs. I was actually hailed
as "a writer and critic of the first force."