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 and was successful on applying for it, because his masters were so glad to get rid of him. At the same time they informed his new superior that he would probably have to be dismissed on the first opportunity.

If the Autobiography had been a novel, instead of a true story, the continuation must have been pronounced utterly improbable. No sooner does Trollope get to Ireland than the story changes; he sets his hand to the plough and wins the respect of his superiors; he at once begins hunting, and though very heavy and very blind and 'not a good horseman,' rides straight and boldly and steadily for the next thirty years, letting neither official nor literary duties interfere; he makes a happy marriage at an early period; he rides up and down over Ireland and England setting things straight; and is sent on missions to Egypt and the West Indies and the United States and Australia; and turns out his daily tale of copy at home or abroad, travelling or resting; and rises in his office, and withstands Sir Rowland Hill, and has 'delicious feuds' with his colleagues; and retires with a sense that he has both done his duty and thoroughly enjoyed his life. Of all this, which may be read in the Autobiography nothing