But
this sort of courage is of the meanest kind. It is the courage of
impulse, not of steadfastness. Hear me, William. You have more than
once allowed the expression of a wonder to escape you, why a man,
having such a passion for books and study, and with the appearance
of mental resources, such as I am supposed to possess, should be
content, retiring from the great city, to set up his habitation in
this remote and obscure region. My chosen profession was the law;
I was no unfaithful student. True, I had no parents to lament my
wanderings and failures; but I did not wander. I studied closely,
with a degree of diligence which seemed to surprise all my companions.
I was ambitious--intensely ambitious. My head ran upon the strifes
of the forum, its exciting contests of mind and soul--its troubles,
its triumphs. This was my leading thought--it was my only passion.
The boy-frenzies for women, which are prompted less by sentiment
or judgment, than by feverish blood, troubled me little. Law was my
mistress--took up all my time--absorbed all my devotion. I believe
that I was a good lawyer--no pettifogger--the merely drilled
creature who toils for his license, and toils for ever after solely
for his petty gains, in the miserably petty arts of making gains
for others, and eluding the snares set for his own feet by kindred
spirits.
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