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The Lost Hunter - A Tale of Early Times by John Turvill Adams
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amends the heart, seems to be with the forgotten learning before the
flood. They who pander to this diseased appetite have much to answer
for; not," he was pleased to add--his indignation cooling off like a
steam-boiler which has found vent, "that the trifle on which for the
last few months you have been wasting your time has not a certain kind
of merit, but it seems a pity, that one, capable of better things,
should so miserably misapply his powers."

These sentiments were not entirely new to me, else I might have become
a little excited; for, during the whole time while I was engaged in
the composition of the work, my friend, who is, also, in the habit
of communicating his literary enterprises to me, would insist upon my
reading him the chapters, as fast as they came along, manifesting no
little curiosity in the manner in which I should disengage myself from
difficulties in which he supposed me from time to time involved,
and exuberant delight at the ingenious contrivances, as, in a
complimentary mood, he once said, by which I eluded them. It is true,
all this betrayal of interest was accompanied by various pishes and
pshaws, and lamentations over the trifling character of my pursuits;
but, like too many others, both in his cloth and out of it, his
conduct contradicted his language, and I was encouraged by the former,
while I only smiled at the latter.

"If such be your opinion," said I, suddenly seizing the manuscript,
which lay before me, and making a motion to throw it into the fire;
"if such be your candid opinion, I had better destroy the nonsense at
once."

"Hold!" cried the Rev. Increase, arresting my hand, "you are
shockingly touchy and precipitate; how often have I cautioned you
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