go its
acquisition.

With this peculiarity of temperament, I could master only a rather
restricted amount of mental material. My father's library was once more
ransacked. I found not much that was of any use to me, for it contained
chiefly theological works; but I seized with the greatest enjoyment on a
book which had come out some ten years before in Gotha, a general view
of all the sciences and fine arts in their various ramifications, with a
short sketch of the object of the several sciences and of the literature
of each department. The arrangement was based upon the usual division
of the faculties, but it served to give me a general outlook, long
desired, over the whole of human knowledge, and I was right glad to have
found this "Mappe du monde litteraire"--for that was its title. I
resolved to turn this book to the best advantage I could, and set about
putting my resolution into practice. In order to make a collection of
comprehensive extracts of scientific matters from the several
periodicals received by my father (who shared for that purpose in a
joint subscription with other preachers and educated people), I had
already begun a sort of diary. The form of this journal was
shapeless--everything was put down as it came, one thing after the
other; and thereby the use of it all was rendered very inconvenient.
Now, however, I perceived the value of division according to a settled
plan, and soon hit upon a scheme of procedure.

I aimed at collecting all that seemed worthy to be known, all that was
necessary for cultured men in general, and for myself in my own calling
in particular; and this rich treasure was to be brought out under
favourable circumstances, or whenever need was, from its storehouse.
Also I desired to acquire a general idea of those subjects which the
craving for knowledge, growing ever more and more sharp within my soul,
was always urging me thoroughly to work through over again. I felt happy
in my work; and I had already been chained to my task for several days,
from early morning till late at night, in my little distant chamber with
its iron-barred windows, when my father suddenly and unexpectedly walked
into the room. He looked over what I had done, and remarked the quantity
of paper used over it, which indeed was not small. Upon this cursory
inspection he held my work for a foolish waste of time and paper; and it
would have been all over with my labour of love for that time, if my
brother (Chris