Life and Writings of Francis Huber. 127 
baked clay, which his ingenious son, always anxious to serve him, 
had made for his use, were, during more than fifteen years, a source 
of relaxation and amusement to him. He enjoyed. walking; and 
even a solitary promenade by means of threads which he had caused 
_ to be stretched through all the rural walks about his dwelling. In 
following them by his hand, he knew his way, and by small knots in : 
the thread he was warned of the direction he was taking, and of his 
exact position. 
The activity of his mind rendered these diversions necessary. It 
shake have rendered him the most unhappy of men, if he had been 
less favorably connected: but all who lived with him, had no other 
thought than that of pleasing him and contributing to relieve his in- 
firmity. Naturally endowed with a benevolent heart, how were those 
happy dispositions too often destroyed by the collisions of the world, 
preserved inhim? He received from all that surrounded him noth- 
ing but kindness and respect. ‘The busy world, the scene of so ma- 
ny little vexations, had disappeared from his view. His house and 
his fortune were taken care of without any embarrassment to him. 
A stranger to public duties, he was in a great measure ignorant of 
the politics, the cunning, and the fraud of men. Having rarely had 
it in his power, (without any fault of his own,) of being useful to 
otl never experienced the bitterness of ingratitude. Jealousy, 
even 1 bonieeianilion his success, was silenced by his infirmity. To 
be happy and prosperous in a situation in which so many others-are 
given up to continual regrets, was accounted to him asa virtue. The 
female sex, provided their voices were agreeable, all appeared to him. 
as he had seen them at the age of eighteen. His mind preserved 
the. freshness and candor which constitute the charm and happiness 
of ; 3 he loved young people, for with their sentiments his 
own were more in accordance than with those of the aged and expe- 
rienced. He took pleasure, to the very last, in directing the studies 
of the young,. and possessed in the highest degree, the art of pleas= 
ing and interesting them. ‘Though fond of new acquaintance, he 
never abandoned his old friends. ‘ One thing I have never been 
able to learn,” said he in his extreme old age, “ and that is, to forget 
how tolove.” Thus had he the good sense justly to appreciate and 
enjoy the balance of advantages which were furnished him by the 
very condition in which he was placed. He appeared to be afraid, 
either of the loss of many of his illusions, or of the excitement of hopes 
in which he might be deceived, for he always repelled the — 
