did you quarrel with Mr. Rawdon? Why did you? Why do you keep on going about with a sullen face and risk offending it more?" I spent most of the morning in the newspaper-room of the public library, writing impossible applications for impossible posts -- I remember that among other things of the sort I offered my services to a firm of private detectives, a sinister breed of traders upon base jealousies now happily vanished from the world, and wrote apropos of an advertisement for "stevedores" that I did not know what the duties of a stevedore might be, but that I was apt and willing to learn -- and in the afternoons and evenings I wandered through all the strange lights and shadows of my native valley and hated all created things. Until my wanderings were checked by the discovery that I was wearing out my boots.
The stagnant inconclusive malaria of that time!
I perceive that I was an evil-tempered, ill-disposed youth with a great capacity for hatred, but ----
There was an excuse for hate.
It was wrong of me to hate individuals, to be rude, harsh, and vindictive to this person or that, but indeed it would have been equally wrong to have taken the manifest offer life made me, without resentment. I see now clearly and calmly, what I then felt obscurely and with an
