;
but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish.

My scheme of _Order_ gave me the most trouble; and I found that though
it might be practicable where a man's business was such as to leave
him the disposition of his time,--that of a journeyman printer, for
instance,--it was not possible to be exactly observed by a master, who
must mix with the world, and often receive people of business at their
own hours. _Order_, too, with regard to places for things, papers,
etc., I found extremely difficult to acquire. I had not been early
accustomed to it; and having an exceeding good memory, I was not so
sensible of the inconvenience attending want of method. This article,
therefore, cost me so much painful attention, and my faults in it
vexed me so much, and I made so little progress in amendment, and had
such frequent relapses, that I was almost ready to give up the
attempt, and content myself with a faulty character in that respect;
like the man who in buying an axe of a smith, my neighbor, desired to
have the whole of its surface as bright as the edge. The smith
consented to grind it bright for him if he would turn the wheel; he
turned, while the smith pressed the broad face of the axe hard and
heavily on the stone, which made the turning of it very fatiguing. The
man came every now and then from the wheel to see how the work went
on, and at length would take his axe as it was without farther
grinding. "No," said the smith, "turn on, turn on; we shall have it
bright by-and-by; as yet, it is only speckled." "Yes," says the man,
"_but I think I like a speckled axe best_." And I believe this may
have been the case with many who, having for want of some such means
as I employed, found the difficulty of obtaining good and breaking bad
habits in other points of vice and virtue, have given up the struggle
and concluded that "_a speckled axe was best_": for something that
pretended to be reason was every now and then suggesting to me that
such extreme nicety as I exacted of myself might be a kind of foppery
in morals, which if it were known would make me ridiculous; that a
perfect character might be attended with the inconvenience of being
envied and hated; and that a benevolent man should allow a few faults
in himself, to keep his friends in countenance.

In truth, I found myself incorrigible with respect to order; and now I
am grown old, and my memory bad, I feel very sensibly the want of it.
But on the whole, though I never