them. It is possible that the beginning of a great work of genius may have been what was written last. The beginning, we may be sure, is undertaken when the author knows how good the middle and the end are going to be.
Among Sterne’s literary remains there were found a number of casual observations; they were said to be even trivial ; but these were ideas which obtained their value—from the place where they appeared. “Colours ground within,” was what Sterne ought to have written at the head of his notebooks. When one comes to actual composition, such preparation does not prevent one from further invention, or from adding whatever chance may suggest at the time. The same thing happened in the case of Butler’s writings; and Johnson, himself a man of this stamp, although as may be seen from his recorded conversations a great extemporizer too, says of them: “such is the labour of those who write for immortality.”
The wiser we ourselves become, the more we detect in the works of Nature. Why, then, should there not be a great deal more in certain thoughts of ours than we sometimes imagine? For they also are products of human nature. Every thought is in itself something, the false as well as the true. The false are simply the weeds that we cannot use in our housekeeping.
Popularizing always ought to be done in such a way as to elevate the people. When we stoop, we
