Apparently, however, the sagacious beast had realised that
there was a new element in the office, and had come to inspect it and
see whether he could give it his approval or not. When it was given, it
was conceded by all concerned that the appointment had received its
consecration. Like "the Senior Fellow" in Sir Frederick Pollock's poem
on the College Cat, I was passed by the highest authority in the office.
One said, "The Senior Fellow's vote!"
The Senior Fellow, black of coat,
Save where his front was white,
Arose and sniffed the stranger's shoes
With critic nose, as ancients use
To judge mankind aright.
I--for 'twas I who tell the tale--
Conscious of fortune's trembling scale,
Awaited the decree;
But Tom had judged: "He loves our race,"
And, as to his ancestral place,
He leapt upon my knee.
Thenceforth, in common-room and hall,
A _verus socius_ known to all,
I came and went and sat,
Far from cross fate's or envy's reach;
For none a title could impeach
Accepted by the cat.
It was at this time that Mr. Townsend wrote me, on behalf of himself and
his partner, a letter stating definitely that if I would devote myself
to _The Spectator_, he and Hutton would guarantee me at once a
certain salary, though I might still take any work I liked outside.
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