Afterward he went in person to Charlottesville, to purchase a
house for the use of another friend of limited means. For his friends
he was thus willing to sacrifice his convenience and his means, without
thought of return. All who were not his friends, he is said to have
hated or despised. An acquaintance was in his room one day, and showed
him a valuable pen-knife. Daniel admired it, and the gentleman said
"You may have it, if you like it." Daniel turned upon him, scowled at
him, his lip curled, and he replied, "What do you expect me to do for
you?"
His other virtues were self-denial, and a proud independence. At the
library, he lived on bread and tea--often making the tea himself. Too
poor to possess a chamber, he slept on a lounge in the public room. He
would owe no man any thing, asked no favors, and fawned on nobody. He
would fight his own fight, make his own way; with the intellect heaven
had sent him, carve out his own future, unassisted. The sallow youth,
groaning under dyspepsia, with scarce a friend, and nothing but his
brain, promised himself that he would one day rise from his low estate,
and wield the thunderbolts of power, as one born to grasp and hurl
them.
He was not mistaken, and did not overestimate his powers. When I saw
him in 1849 or '50, he was obscurest of the obscure.
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