PRECIPITAION.
During the late melancholy weather, I renewed my visit to an acquaintance, an old professor of philosophy, or rather of history, for he still continued to give lectures upon the latter subject, whilst he had long ago left off teaching the former branch of science. This old gentleman, who imagined that he comprehended the occurrences of the world and of our time, in a manner particularly his own, and on this account often shook his head when younger people were in a merry mood, is frequently governed by very peculiar whims. He ridicules the desire which rages in the present day for wonderful events, because people whose minds are weak and hollow, endeavour to lighten the pressure of their tedious moments, and wish to clear up the darkness which envelopes them, by seeking for wonders and rare occurrences, and willingly accept that which is impossible and
