Give him his drawing-table, his plans, his
models, the noise of machinery, the clatter of the foundry, and he is
always contented. Week in and week out, summer and winter, he works on
and on,--and the harder he works, the more satisfied he seems to be. He
is as untiring as one of his own engines, which never stop so long as
the fire burns. Endowed with such a constitution, it is to be hoped
that new triumphs and many years of honor and usefulness are yet before
him.
* * * * *
MOVING.
Man is like an onion. He exists in concentric layers. He is born a
bulb and grows by external accretions. The number and character of his
involutions certify to his culture and courtesy. Those of the boor are
few and coarse. Those of the gentleman are numerous and fine. But strip
off the scales from all and you come to the same germ. The core of
humanity is barbarism. Every man is a latent savage.
You may be startled and shocked, but I am stating fact, not theory. I
announce not an invention, but a discovery. You look around you, and
because you do not see tomahawks and tattooing you doubt my assertion.
But your observation is superficial. You have not penetrated into the
secret place where souls abide.
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241