But Though I Have Been Obliged To
Execute This Dreadful Sentence In My Own Defence, I Have Often
Thought It A Great Pity, For The Sake Of A Little Hay, To Lay Waste
So Ingenious A Subterranean Town, Furnished With Every Conveniency,
And Built With A Most Surprising Mechanism.
I never should have done were I to recount the many objects which
involuntarily strike my imagination in the midst of my work, and
spontaneously afford me the most pleasing relief.
These appear
insignificant trifles to a person who has travelled through Europe
and America, and is acquainted with books and with many sciences;
but such simple objects of contemplation suffice me, who have no
time to bestow on more extensive observations. Happily these require
no study, they are obvious, they gild the moments I dedicate to
them, and enliven the severe labours which I perform. At home my
happiness springs from very different objects; the gradual unfolding
of my children's reason, the study of their dawning tempers attract
all my paternal attention. I have to contrive little punishments for
their little faults, small encouragements for their good actions,
and a variety of other expedients dictated by various occasions. But
these are themes unworthy your perusal, and which ought not to be
carried beyond the walls of my house, being domestic mysteries
adapted only to the locality of the small sanctuary wherein my
family resides. Sometimes I delight in inventing and executing
machines, which simplify my wife's labour. I have been tolerably
successful that way; and these, Sir, are the narrow circles within
which I constantly revolve, and what can I wish for beyond them?
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