undiffused, undissipated passion, in its undivided
strength, stir and vitalise all my energies, and its power over my own
frame made me involuntarily, instinctively confident of the power it
would have over hers.

"We will see how long it is before you capitulate, oh my fortified and
arrogant city!" I thought, as I finished dressing and went downstairs.
My father was reading the paper, apparently waiting breakfast for me.
We were on the very best of terms now.

He felt convinced of my capability to work, and assured of my success.
With that surprising tendency of the human mind to delegate its own
powers to another, he accepted completely the verdict of the Parisian
publisher upon qualities he had had under his own observation for an
odd twenty years. Now, forsooth, because another man had told him so,
he took it for granted that I had some talent. And all the time we had
lived together he had hesitated to form that opinion from first-hand
knowledge. Extraordinary trait in human nature, this liking to be
thought for, instead of thinking for yourself! This waiting to take up,
second-hand, ready-made, the views of another man, even when the fresh
materials are at your hand, and you may examine them and form your own.
It is a universal tendency, of course, and displays itself everywhere;
in religion, in morality, in fashions, in vices, in simple
conversation--everywhere.

The glorious and free gift of Nature to every man, the capacity for
perception and judgment, he shamefacedly, as if it were a disgrace,
tries to shift off upon another. It always amuses me immensely when
brought before me, and it did now in my father's case. He assumed, as
innumerable people do, that success or failure proves or disproves
merit, which is such a curious opinion, as remarkable as if a person
believed the absence or presence of the hall-mark proved or disproved
the identity of gold. On no point did he and I differ more widely than
on this.

It has always seemed to me that the formation of a judgment and opinion
is an involuntary function of the mind, not a matter of effort, as
others seem to regard it. Your judgment may be wrong, so may your
opinion; your perception may be misled. I understand that. But can you
exist without judgment, without opinion, without perception, till
another man hand you his? This is hard to realise.

My father in all these years had not said my son is a fool and will not
succeed, nor had he said my son is cle