I Verily Believe That They Expected To Find An Author One Of A
Distinct Species From Themselves; That They Imagined
The aforesaid
biped should neither eat, drink, sleep, nor talk like other
folks; - a proud, useless, self-conceited, affected animal,
That
deserved nothing but kicks and buffets from the rest of mankind.
Anxious not to offend them, I tried to avoid all literary subjects.
I confined my conversation to topics of common interest; but this
gave greater offence than the most ostentatious show of learning,
for they concluded that I would not talk on such subjects, because I
thought them incapable of understanding me. This was more wounding
to their self-love than the most arrogant assumption on my part; and
they regarded me with a jealous, envious stand-a-loofishness, that
was so intolerable that I gave up all ideas of visiting them. I was
so accustomed to hear the whispered remark, or to have it retailed
to me by others, "Oh, yes; she can write, but she can do nothing
else," that I was made more diligent in cultivating every branch of
domestic usefulness; so that these ill-natured sarcasms ultimately
led to my acquiring a great mass of most useful practical knowledge.
Yet - such is the contradiction inherent in our poor fallen
nature - these people were more annoyed by my proficiency in the
common labours of the household, than they would have been by any
displays of my unfortunate authorship. Never was the fable of the
old man and his ass so truly verified.
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