When taken from my native land, By an unjust and cruel band, How did uncommon dread prevail! My sighs no more I could conceal. CAPTIOUSNESS OF MANNER.--While captiousness of manner, and the habit of disputing and contradicting every thing said, is chilling and repulsive, the opposite habit of assenting to, and sympathizing with, every statement made, or emotion expressed, is almost equally disagreeable.
It is unmanly, and is felt to be dishonest. Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons.
"It may seem difficult," says Richard Sharp, "to steer always between bluntness and plain dealing, between merited praises and lavishing indiscriminate flattery; but it is very easy--good humor, kindheartedness, and perfect simplicity, being all that are requisite to do what is right in the right way." At the same time many are impolite, not because they mean to be so, but because they are awkward, and perhaps know no better. { 72} We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return.
With us time itself does not progress. It revolves. It seems to circle round one centre of pain.
The paralysing immobility of a life every circumstance of which is regulated after an unchangeable pattern, so that we eat and drink and lie down and pray, or kneel at least for prayer, according to the inflexible laws of an iron formula: this immobile quality, that makes each dreadful day in the very minutest detail like its brother, seems to communicate itself to those external forces the very essence of whose existence is ceaseless change. Of seed-time or harvest, of the reapers bending over the corn, or the grape gatherers threading through the vines, of the grass in the orchard made white with broken blossoms or strewn with fallen fruit: of these we know nothing and can know nothing.