Let some great soul write my six thousand leaders!
It is, I admit, an appalling thought to have covered so much paper and
used so much ink. But, after all, an apology may be made for mere volume
in journalism analogous to that made for it by Dr. Johnson when he said
that poets must to some extent be judged by their quantity as well as
their quality. Anyway, I am inclined to be proud of my output. When an
occasion like the present makes me turn back to my old articles, I am
glad to say that my attitude, far from being one of shame, is more like
that of the Duke of Wellington. When quite an old man, somebody brought
him his Indian Despatches to look over. As he read he is recorded to
have muttered: "Damned good! I don't know how the devil I ever managed
to write 'em."
The tale of how I came to _The Spectator_ is finished. I must now
describe what sort of a youth it was who got there, and what were the
influences that had gone to his making.
CHAPTER III
MY PHYSICAL HOME, MY FAMILY, AND MY GOOD FORTUNE THEREIN
The autobiographer, or at any rate the writer of the type of
autobiography on which I am engaged, need not apologise for being
egotistical.
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