And so the whole of our
library disappeared. In this way he spent the modest little fortune
which he possessed, and became a regular vagabond, though in spite of
this he remained kind and generous, incapable of harming a worm."
"But," I rejoined, "why did not his friends send him to sea? that
would have made him more regular in his ways."
"That could never have been, for he was so popular that all his
friends would have run after him and fetched him back. You have no
idea how full of fun he was. Poor Peter! with all his faults I could
not help liking him, for he was charming at times. He could set you
off into a fit of laughter with a word. He had a knack of his own for
springing a joke upon you in the most unexpected way. I shall never
forget the evening when they came to tell me that he had been found
dead on the road to Langoat. I went and had him properly laid out. He
was buried, and the priest spoke in consoling terms about the death
of these poor waifs whose heart is not always so far from God as some
people may imagine."
Poor Uncle Pierre! I have often thought of him. This tardy esteem will
be his sole recompense. The metaphysical paradise would be no place
for him. His lively imagination, his high spirits, and his keen sense
of enjoyment constituted him for a distinct individualism in his
own sphere. My father's character was just the opposite, for he was
inclined to be sentimental and melancholy. It was when he was advanced
in years and upon his return from a long voyage that he gave me birth.
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