The packet came into my hands just before the ceremony of presentation began, and, being eagerly opened, was found to contain a summons to Downing Street; a fact contributing, as may be supposed, not a little to the pleasure of the day. On presenting myself at the Treasury I was very courteously received by the new Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. (afterwards Sir) Francis Baring (Mr. Spring Rice having been just raised to the peerage). Before speaking of what occurred, I wish to premise that I afterwards found in Mr. Baring a steady friend and zealous supporter, his kind interest in my plan and myself never failing until death. This first interview, however, was on one important point very unsatisfactory. To make this clear, it must be recollected that I then held a permanent office, involving heavy duties and implying great trust and responsibility, and that though my salary was as yet only £500 a-year (all salaries in this new department being then low), yet as I had been fortunate enough to give full satisfaction, I had every prospect of increase, and a fair chance of promotion. When, therefore, it was proposed that I should abandon this position to accept an engagement for two years only, without any increase of salary, I must confess I could scarcely avoid regarding the offer as an affront. I was yet more struck with the disadvantage to which the degradation (for such it was) which I was to suffer would place me in respect of ability to carry out my plans; nor did I try to conceal my feelings. However I brought the conference to a close by informing Mr. Baring that I must consult my friends upon his offer; and that, as my eldest brother was then at Leicester, I thought it would be three days before I could give my answer. Accordingly, on the following day, I went to Leicester, arriving late in the evening. I found my brother stretched on a sofa; he had had a hard day’s work, and seemed quite exhausted; so that although I was aware he must know that important business alone could have brought me so far, I naturally proposed to defer everything to the next day. Of this, however, he would not hear; saying that he had another day’s hard work before him, so that no time must be lost. To do the best under the circumstances, I began my story in as passionless a manner as I could command; and for a short time he listened quietly enough, seeming too much oppressed by fatigue to be capable of strong interest. When, however, I came to the offer of £500, a sudden change occurred. He seemed not merely to start but to bound from the sofa, his face flushing, and his frame quivering with indignation. When he became somewhat more composed, and the whole matter had been duly discussed, he suggested that he should write a letter for me to hand to the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I eagerly accepted his offer, but he consented—the hour being by this time over late—to defer the execution of his task until morning.