Charlemont; Or, the Pride of the Village. a Tale of Kentucky by William Gilmore Simms
page 175 of 518 (33%)
page 175 of 518 (33%)
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with the language--mere delvers and diggers in a science in which
I secretly felt that I should be a master. In vain did I recall to mind the fact that I knew the community before which I was likely to speak; I knew its deficiencies; knew the inferiority of its idols, and could and should have no sort of fear of its criticism. But it was myself that I feared. I had mistaken the true censor. It was my own standards of judgment that distressed and made me tremble. It was what I expected of myself--what I thought should be expected of me--that made my weak soul recoil in terror from the conviction that I must fail in its endeavor to reach the point which my ambitious soul strove to attain. The fear, in such cases, produced the very disaster, from the anticipated dread of which it had arisen. I again failed--failed egregiously--failed utterly and for ever! I never again attempted the fearful trial. I gave up the contest, yielded the field to my inferiors, better-nerved, though inferior, and, with all my learning, all my eloquence, my voice, my manner; my resources of study, thought, and utterance, fled from sight--fled here--to bury myself in the wilderness, and descend to the less ambitious, but less dangerous vocation of schooling--I trust, to better uses--the minds of others. I had done nothing with my own." "Oh, sir, do not say so. Though you may have failed in one department of human performance, you have succeeded in others. You have lost none of the knowledge which you then acquired. You possess all the gifts of eloquence, of manner, of voice, of education, of thought." "But of what use, my son? Remember, we do not toil for these possessions to lock them up--to content ourselves, as the miserable miser, with the consciousness that we possess a treasure known to |
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