Reflections.
I regret the not having oftener noted down the hopes and agitations which have often influenced my feelings: it would have furnished some apology for that fitful and impatient inequality of manner, which has arisen from the strain of feeling which each hour has brought with it—the pain arising from the ineffectual struggle to obtain the credit for good intentions, and the just appreciation of my motives.
I begin to find every effort vain; and after years of anxious labour and personal sacrifice, I have only reaped one certain harvest—the just valuation of my fellow beings; so different from what I saw it under happier circumstances. I have acquired the certainty that the poor are made poorer, the sorrowing more sad, whenever it is from a fellow worm we look for aid or comfort; and that the best, the most upright intentions will not shield the unprotected from those who are only strong from our incapacity to resist.