Mr. Buckthorne Had Paused At The Death Of His Uncle, And The Downfall
Of His Great Expectations, Which Formed, As He Said, An Epoch In His
History; And It Was Not Until Some Little Time Afterwards, And In A
Very Sober Mood, That He Resumed His Particolored Narrative.
After leaving the domains of my defunct uncle, said he, when the gate
Closed between me and what was once to have been mine, I felt thrust
out naked into the world, and completely abandoned to fortune.
What was
to become of me? I had been brought up to nothing but expectations, and
they had all been disappointed. I had no relations to look to for
counsel or assistance. The world seemed all to have died away from me.
Wave after wave of relationship had ebbed off, and I was left a mere
hulk upon the strand. I am not apt to be greatly cast down, but at
this, time I felt sadly disheartened. I could not realize my situation,
nor form a conjecture how I was to get forward.
I was now to endeavor to make money. The idea was new and strange to
me. It was like being asked to discover the philosopher's stone. I had
never thought about money, other than to put my hand into my pocket and
find it, or if there were none there, to wait until a new supply came
from home. I had considered life as a mere space of time to be filled
up with enjoyments; but to have it portioned out into long hours and
days of toil, merely that I might gain bread to give me strength to
toil on; to labor but for the purpose of perpetuating a life of labor
was new and appalling to me.
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