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235
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
136
VI.
How
I
envy
those
who
become
prudent
without
thwackings
of
experience!
Such
men
seem
to
be
not
uncommon.
I
don't
mean
cold-blooded
calculators
of
profit
and
loss
in
life's
possibilities;
nor
yet
the
plodding
dull,
who
never
have
imagination
enough
to
quit
the
beaten
track
of
security;
but
bright-witted
and
large-hearted
fellows
who
seem
always
to
be
led
by
common
sense,
who
go
steadily
from
stage
to
stage
of
life,
doing
the
right,
the
prudent
things,
guilty
of
no
vagaries,
winning
respect
by
natural
progress,
seldom
needing
aid
themselves,
often
helpful
to
others,
and,
through
all,
good-tempered,
deliberate,
happy.
How
I
envy
them!
For
of
myself
it
might
be
said
that
whatever
folly
is
possible
to
a
moneyless
man,
that
folly
I
have
at
one
time
or
another
committed.
Within
my
nature
there
seemed
to
be
no
faculty
of
rational
self-guidance.
Boy
and
man,
I
blundered
into
every
ditch
and
bog
which
lay
within
sight
of
my
way.
Never
did
silly
mortal
reap
such
harvest
of
experience;
never
had
any
one
so
many
bruises
to
show
for
it.
Thwack,
thwack!
No
sooner
had
I
recovered
from
one
sound
drubbing
than
I
put
myself
in
the
way
of
another.
"Unpractical"
I
was
called
by
those
who
spoke
mildly;
"idiot"--I
am
sure--by
many
a
ruder
tongue.
And
idiot
I
see
myself,
whenever
I
glance
back
over
the
long,
devious
road.
Something,
obviously,
I
lacked
from
the
beginning,
some
balancing
principle
granted
to
most
men
in
one
or
another
degree.
I
had
brains,
but
they
were
no
help
to
me
in
the
common
circumstances
of
life.
But
for
the
good
fortune
which
plucked
me
out
of
my
mazes
and
set
me
in
paradise,
I
should
no
doubt
have
blundered
on
to
the
end.
The
last
thwack
of
experience
would
have
laid
me
low
just
when
I
was
becoming
really
a
prudent
man.
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