The old gentleman told
me last night, with great good-humour, that betwixt the age of
twenty and forty, he had been obliged to provide for nine
bastards, sworn to him by women whom he never saw -- Mr Bramble's
character, which seems to interest you greatly, opens and
improves upon me every day. His singularities afford a rich mine
of entertainment; his understanding, so far as I can judge, is
well cultivated; his observations on life are equally just,
pertinent, and uncommon. He affects misanthropy, in order to
conceal the sensibility of a heart, which is tender, even to a
degree of weakness. This delicacy of feeling, or soreness of the
mind, makes him timorous and fearful; but then he is afraid of
nothing so much as of dishonour; and although he is exceedingly
cautious of giving offence, he will fire at the least hint of
insolence or ill-breeding. -- Respectable as he is, upon the
whole, I can't help being sometimes diverted by his little
distresses; which provoke him to let fly the shafts of his
satire, keen and penetrating as the arrows of Teucer -- Our aunt,
Tabitha, acts upon him as a perpetual grind-stone -- She is, in
all respects, a striking contrast to her brother -- But I reserve
her portrait for another occasion.
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