(And so on, and so on, out of “Who’s Who.”)
“But this would not suffice for his growing genius.”
(And so on, and so on, out of the Series of Contemporary Agnostics.)
“ ... It is sometimes remarkable to men of less wide experience how such spirits find the mere time to achieve their prodigious results. Take, for example, this book on the Snail....”
And he continued in a fine spirit of praise, such as should be given to books of this weight and importance, and to men such as he who had written it. He sent it by boy-messenger to the office.
The messenger had but just left the house when the telephone rang again, and once more it was the Editor, who asked whether the review had been sent off. Knowing how dilatory are the run of journalists, my friend felt some natural pride in replying that he had indeed just despatched the article. The Editor, as luck would have it, was somewhat annoyed by this, and the reason soon appeared when he proceeded to say that the author was another Charles after all, and not the Mr. Charles who was standing for Parliament. He asked whether the original review could still be retained, in which the book, it will be remembered, had been treated with some severity.
My friend permitted himself to give a deep sigh, but was courteous enough to answer as follows:—
“I am afraid it has been destroyed, but I shall be very happy to write another, and I will make it really scathing. You shall have it by twelve.”
It was under these circumstances that the review (which many of you must have read) took this final form, which I recommend even more heartily than any of the others to those who may peruse these pages for their profit, as well as for their instruction.