And the
result did not entirely encourage my plan of censorship. Janet
did indeed seriously incline to the account of my previous life,
and bestowed some Highland maledictions, more emphatic than
courteous, on Christie Steele's reception of a "shentlemans in
distress," and of her own mistress's house too. I omitted for
certain reasons, or greatly abridged, what related to her-self.
But when I came to treat of my general views in publication, I
saw poor Janet was entirely thrown out, though, like a jaded
hunter, panting, puffing, and short of wind, she endeavoured at
least to keep up with the chase. Or, rather, her perplexity made
her look all the while like a deaf person ashamed of his
infirmity, who does not understand a word you are saying, yet
desires you to believe that he does understand you, and who is
extremely jealous that you suspect his incapacity. When she saw
that some remark was necessary, she resembled exactly in her
criticism the devotee who pitched on the "sweet word Mesopotamia"
as the most edifying note which she could bring away from a
sermon. She indeed hastened to bestow general praise on what she
said was all "very fine;" but chiefly dwelt on what I, had said
about Mr.
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