‘Pray, cousin John,’ said Ada, who had just joined us, and now looked over my shoulder, ‘what made him such a child?’ ‘What made him such a child?’ inquired my guardian, rubbing his head, a little at a loss. ‘Yes, cousin John.’ ‘Why,’ he slowly replied, roughening his head more and more, ‘he is all sentiment, and – and susceptibility, and – and sensibility – and – and imagination. And these qualities are not regulated in him, somehow. I suppose the people who admired him for them in his youth, attached too much importance to them, and too little to any training that would have balanced and
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