'Inditing
drafts of German railways which will never get made': it is thus I
find Fleeming, not without a touch of bitterness, describe his
occupation. Even the patents hung fire at first. There was no
salary to rely on; children were coming and growing up; the
prospect was often anxious. In the days of his courtship, Fleeming
had written to Miss Austin a dissuasive picture of the trials of
poverty, assuring her these were no figments but truly bitter to
support; he told her this, he wrote, beforehand, so that when the
pinch came and she suffered, she should not be disappointed in
herself nor tempted to doubt her own magnanimity: a letter of
admirable wisdom and solicitude. But now that the trouble came, he
bore it very lightly. It was his principle, as he once prettily
expressed it, 'to enjoy each day's happiness, as it arises, like
birds or children.' His optimism, if driven out at the door, would
come in again by the window; if it found nothing but blackness in
the present, would hit upon some ground of consolation in the
future or the past.
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