inexperience it had seemed the easiest thing in the world. After a
fortnight of experiment I began to think it was the hardest.




CHAPTER VII

I FIND MY COTTAGE

In the meantime a circumstance had occurred which was of great
importance to me. Some enterprising spirits had started a new weekly
local paper, and--_mirabile dictu_--they actually contemplated a
literary page! With a faith in suburban culture, so unprecedented as
to be almost sublime, these daring adventurers proposed giving their
readers reviews of books, literary gossip, and general information
about the doings of eminent writers. They offered the work to me at
the modest honorarium of two pounds a week, and were willing to give me
a three years' agreement. They were frank enough to acknowledge that
their journal was likely to die of 'superiority to its public,' long
before the three years were over; but, barring this disaster, they gave
me assurance of regular employment. This was the very thing for me.
One could write about books anywhere. I thankfully closed with the
offer and began to study the ha'-penny evening papers with assiduity,
in order to learn the craft of manufacturing biographies of living
authors.

The greatest of all questions was thus settled: I should not starve.
But the question of a local habitation remained as difficult as ever.
I went upon wild-goose chases innumerable; was the victim of every kind