When a man has worked out his special affinities in this way, there is an
end of his genius as a real solvent. No more effervescence and hissing
tumult--as he pours his sharp thought on the world's biting alkaline
unbeliefs! No more corrosion of the old monumental tablets covered with
lies! No more taking up of dull earths, and turning them, first into
clear solutions, and then into lustrous prisms!
I, the Professor, am very much like other men: I shall not find out when
I have used up my affinities. What a blessed thing it is, that Nature,
when she invented, manufactured, and patented her authors, contrived to
make critics out of the chips that were left! Painful as the task is,
they never fail to warn the author, in the most impressive manner, of the
probabilities of failure in what he has undertaken. Sad as the necessity
is to their delicate sensibilities, they never hesitate to advertise him
of the decline of his powers, and to press upon him the propriety of
retiring before he sinks into imbecility. Trusting to their kind
offices, I shall endeavor to fulfil--
--Bridget enters and begins clearing the table.
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