M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me.
Clerval [was no natural philosopher. His imagination was too vivid for the minutiae of science.] <had never sympathised in my tastes for natural science; and his literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me.> [Languages were his principal study; and he sought, but acquiring their elements, to open a field for self-instruction on his return to Geneva.] <He came to the university with the design of making himself complete master of the oriental languages, as thus he should open a field for the plan of life he had marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue no inglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording scope for his spirit of enterprise. The> Persian, Arabic, and [Hebrew, gained] <Sanscrit languages engaged> his attention, [after he had made himself perfectly master of Greek and Latin. For my own part, idleness] <and I was easily induced to enter on the same studies. Idleness> had ever been irksome to me, and now that I wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former studies, I felt great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found not only instruction but consolation in the works of the orientalists. <I did not, like him, attempt a critical knowledge of their dialects, for I did not contemplate making any other use of them than temporary amusement. I read merely to understand their meaning, and they well repaid my labours.> Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elevating to a degree I never experienced in studying the authors of any other country. When you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun and <a> {MS gardens} garden of roses, in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart. How different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and [Rome.] <Rome!>