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[Page 235]

6
It is a selfish wish, and now a useless one; but it comes to me nevertheless. –

That I might have had more leisure and more time to record the much which I have seen in a little – that is the wish.

To see the gold of vivid and cruel romance and real human tragedy spilling
From the tilted post of memory and only the dross of incident remain, hastens a desire for leisure. Hastens again that wish.

Yet I know it is selfish, and if the time and opportunities so seemingly lost be but the sacrifice for something nobler, I must be and am content.

In this light I comit the hours of labour to more worth than the fruits of leisure may have been

But I begrudge the loss of those other hours of utter weriness
Perhaps it is largely part of the great scheme of things that mists make dim our prospects, and difficulties oppose endeavour for the final end of worthy

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