Much more oppressive was it to me, truly, that
I could in the abodes of misery only console with kind words.
I comforted myself, like a thousand others, by a hopeful glance
upon the rolling wheel of fortune, and with the philosophical
remark, "When the time comes, comes the counsel."
As a poor assistant to a country clergyman with a narrow income
and meagre table, morally becoming mouldy in the company of the
scolding housekeeper, of the willingly fuddled clergyman, of a
foolish young gentleman and the daughters of the house, who, with
high shoulders and turned-in toes, went from morning to night
paying visits, I felt a peculiarly strange emotion of tenderness
and joy as one of my acquaintance informed me by writing, that my
uncle, the Merchant P---in Stockholm, to me personally unknown,
now lay dying, and in a paroxysm of kindred affection had inquired
after his good-for-nothing nephew.
With a flat, meagre little bundle, and a million of rich hopes,
the grateful nephew now allowed himself to be shaken up hill and
down hill, upon an uncommonly uncomfortable and stiff-necked
peasant cart, and arrived, head-over-heels, in the capital.
In the inn where I alighted, I ordered for myself a little--only a
very little breakfast,--a trifle--a bit of bread-and-butter--a few
eggs.
The landlord and a fat gentleman walked up and down the saloon and
chatted. "Nay, that I must say," said the fat gentleman, "this
Merchant P--, who died the day before yesterday, he was a fine
fellow.
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