of speculation; for no sooner are notions reduced to
practice, than tranquillity and confidence forsake
the breast; every day brings its task, and often
without bringing abilities to perform it: difficulties
embarrass, uncertainty perplexes, opposition retards,
censure exasperates, or neglect depresses. We
proceed because we have begun; we complete our
design, that the labour already spent may not be
vain; but as expectation gradually dies away, the
gay smile of alacrity disappears, we are compelled
to implore severer powers, and trust the event to
patience and constancy.

When once our labour has begun, the comfort
that enables us to endure it is the prospect of its
end; for though in every long work there are some
joyous intervals of self-applause, when the attention
is recreated by unexpected facility, and the imagination
soothed by incidental excellencies; yet the toil
with which performance struggles after idea, is so
irksome and disgusting, and so frequent is the
necessity of resting below that perfection which we
imagined within our reach, that seldom any man
obtains more from his endeavours than a painful
conviction of his defects, and a continual resuscitation
of desires which he feels himself unable to
gratify.

So certainly is weariness the concomitant of our
undertakings, that every man, in whatever he is