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I HAD done a few things and earned a few pence-I had perhaps even had time to begin tothink I was finer than was perceived by the patronising; but when I take the little measureof my course (a fidgety habit, for it's none of the longest yet) I count my real start from theevening George Corvick, breathless and worried, came in to ask me a service. He had donemore things than I, and earned more pence, though there were chances for cleverness Ithought he sometimes missed. I could only however that evening declare to him that henever missed one for kindness. There was almost rapture in hearing it proposed to me toprepare for The Middle, the organ of our lucubrations, so called from the position in theweek of its day of appearance, an article for which he had made himself responsible and ofwhich, tied up with a stout string, he laid on my table the subject.