cess, have frequently watched his movements to disco- ver, if they could, the secret source of that delight which they seemed to afford him. But they made no disco- very which led them to any other conclusion than (to use their own expression) " that he loved idleness for its own sake.^^ They have frequently observed him laying along, under the shade of some tree that over- hung the sequestered stream, watching, for hours, at the same spot, the motionless cork of his fishing line, without one encouraging symptom of success, and with- out any apparent source of enjoyment, unless he could find it in the ease of his posture, or in the illusions of hope, or, which is most probable, in the stillness of the scene and the silent workings of his own imagination. This love of solitude, in his youth, was often observed. Even when hunting with a party, his choice was not to join the noisy band that drove the deer; he preferred to take his stand, alone, where he might wait for the pass- ing game, and indulge himself, meanwhile, in the luxurj of thinking. Not that he was averse to society; on the contrary, he had, at times, a very high zest for it. But even in society, his enjoyments while young, were of a peculiar cast; he did not mix in the wild mirth of his equals in age; but sat, quiet and demure, taking no part in the conversation, giving no responsive smile to the circulating jest, but lost, to all appearance, in silence and abstraction. This abstraction, however, was only apparent; for on the dispersion of a company, when in- terrogated by his parents as to what had been passing, he was able not only to detail the conversation, but to sketch, with strict fidelity, the character of every speaker. None of these early delineations of charac- ter are retained by his cotemporaries; and, indeed, they are said to have been more remarkable for their justness, than for any peculiar felicity of execution.
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