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Thus days, months, and years, slip away: what time then is left for writing? And hitherto I have said nothing of those hours which must be devoted to sleep; or of those to meals, on which many waste nearly as much time as in sleep, the consumer of almost half our life. Indeed all the time I can gain to myself, I steal from sleep and my meals; and because it is little, I have made slow progress. Yet being something, I have at last got to the end of Utopia, which I now send you; and expect, after you have read it, that you will inform me, if you can remind me of any thing which has escaped me. For though I should be happy had I as much invention and learning, as I know I have memory, and which makes me in general depend greatly upon it, yet do I not so entirely rely on my memory, as to think I can forget nothing.

My lad, John

Clement, hath made some observations which startle me. You know he was present with us, as I think he ought to be at every conversation which may be useful to him; for I promise myself great things from his early progress in Greek and Roman learning. According to my memory, the bridge over Anider at Amaurot was, by Raphael's account, 500 paces; but John assures me he said 300, therefore, pray recollect what you can of this. For, if you agree with him, I will believe

I confess, dear Peter, so much of the labour was thus taken from my hand, that little or nothing was left me; though the invention and arrangement might have demanded from no mean or unlearned capacity some time as well as study. Had eloquence as well as truth been requisite, no time or study would have enabled me to accomplish it. But as it was, these difficulties being removed, my part was only to repeat what I had heard.

Yet little of my time as this required, that little was long denied me by my other avocations. For while, in pleading and attending, in judging or settling causes, in waiting upon some on business, on others from respect, the greater part of the day is spent on other men's affairs, the remainder must be devoted to my family at home: thus I can reserve no part to myself and study. I must chat with my wife and prattle with my children, and something I have to say to my servants. These things I reckon a part of a man's business, unless he will resolve to be a stranger at home. For with whomever nature, chance, or choice, hath engaged a man in any intercourse, he must endeavour to make himself as acceptable to those about him as he can; still preserving such a disposition, that he may not spoil them by excessive gentleness, or let his servants become his masters.

Thus days, months, and years, slip away: what time then is left for writing? And hitherto I have said nothing of those hours which must be devoted to sleep; or of those to meals, on which many waste nearly as much time as in sleep, the consumer of almost half our life. Indeed all the time I can gain to myself, I steal from sleep and my meals; and because it is little, I have made slow progress. Yet being something, I have at last got to the end of Utopia, which I now send you; and expect, after you have read it, that you will inform me, if you can remind me of any thing which has escaped me. For though I should be happy had I as much invention and learning, as I know I have memory, and which makes me in general depend greatly upon it, yet do I not so entirely rely on my memory, as to think I can forget nothing.

My lad, John Clement, hath made some observations which startle me. You know he was present with us, as I think he ought to be at every conversation which may be useful to him; for I promise myself great things from his early progress in Greek and Roman learning. According to my memory, the bridge over Anider at Amaurot was, by Raphael's account, 500 paces; but John assures me he said 300, therefore, pray recollect what you can of this. For, if you agree with him, I will believe

I confess, dear Peter, so much of the labour was thus taken from my hand, that little or nothing was left me; though the invention and arrangement might have demanded from no mean or unlearned capacity some time as well as study. Had eloquence as well as truth been requisite, no time or study would have enabled me to accomplish it. But as it was, these difficulties being removed, my part was only to repeat what I had heard.

Yet little of my time as this required, that little was long denied me by my other avocations. For while, in pleading and attending, in judging or settling causes, in waiting upon some on business, on others from respect, the greater part of the day is spent on other men's affairs, the remainder must be devoted to my family at home: thus I can reserve no part to myself and study. I must chat with my wife and prattle with my children, and something I have to say to my servants. These things I reckon a part of a man's business, unless he will resolve to be a stranger at home. For with whomever nature, chance, or choice, hath engaged a man in any intercourse, he must endeavour to make himself as acceptable to those about him as he can; still preserving such a disposition, that he may not spoil them by excessive gentleness, or let his servants become his masters.

Thus days, months, and years, slip away: what time then is left for writing? And hitherto I have said nothing of those hours which must be devoted to sleep; or of those to meals, on which many waste nearly as much time as in sleep, the consumer of almost half our life. Indeed all the time I can gain to myself, I steal from sleep and my meals; and because it is little, I have made slow progress. Yet being something, I have at last got to the end of Utopia, which I now send you; and expect, after you have read it, that you will inform me, if you can remind me of any thing which has escaped me. For though I should be happy had I as much invention and learning, as I know I have memory, and which makes me in general depend greatly upon it, yet do I not so entirely rely on my memory, as to think I can forget nothing.

My lad, John Clement, hath made some observations which startle me. You know he was present with us, as I think he ought to be at every conversation which may be useful to him; for I promise myself great things from his early progress in Greek and Roman learning. According to my memory, the bridge over Anider at Amaurot was, by Raphael's account, 500 paces; but John assures me he said 300, therefore, pray recollect what you can of this. For, if you agree with him, I will believe

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