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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
14
October
13.
Down
with
another
cold.
Feeling
pretty
useless.
It's
a
wonder
I
don't
develop
melancholia.
November
6.
By
7
a.m.
H----
and
I
were
down
on
the
mudflats
of
the
River
with
field-glasses,
watching
Waders.
Ringed
Plover
in
great
numbers.
1906
January
13.
I
have
always
had
one
ambition
to
be
a
great
naturalist.
That
is,
I
suppose,
a
child's
fancy,
and
I
can
see
my
folly
in
hoping
for
such
great
things.
Still,
there
is
no
reason
why
I
should
not
become
a
learned
naturalist
if
I
study
hard.
I
hope
that
whatever
I
do
I
shall
do
in
the
hope
of
increasing
knowledge
of
truth
and
not
for
my
own
fame.
This
entry
may
suggest
that
I
am
horribly
conceited.
But
really
I
am
as
humble
as
possible.
I
know
I
have
advanced
beyond
many
others,
and
I
know
I
shall
advance
further,
but
why
be
conceited?...
What
a
short
life
we
have,
and
what
heaps
of
glorious
work
to
be
done!
Supper
bell--so
I
am
off....
This
reads
like
Isaac
Walton's
funny
mixtures
of
the
sublime
with
the
ridiculous.
He
discusses
abstract
happiness
and
the
best
salmon
sauce
all
in
one
breath.
February
26.
Although
it
is
a
grand
achievement
to
have
added
but
one
jot
or
tittle
to
the
sum
of
human
knowledge
it
is
grander
still
to
have
added
a
thought.
It
is
best
for
a
man
to
try
to
be
both
poet
and
naturalist--not
to
be
too
much
of
a
naturalist
and
so
overlook
the
beauty
of
things,
or
too
much
of
a
poet
and
so
fail
to
understand
them
or
even
perceive
those
hidden
beauties
only
revealed
by
close
observation.
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