“Paterna vestis, et annulus, tanto charior est
          posteris, quanto erga parentes major affectus.”

     ["A father’s garment and ring is by so much dearer to his posterity,
     as there is the greater affection towards parents.” 
     —­St. Aug., De Civat.  Dei, i. 13.]

If my posterity, nevertheless, shall be of another mind, I shall be avenged on them; for they cannot care less for me than I shall then do for them.  All the traffic that I have in this with the public is, that I borrow their utensils of writing, which are more easy and most at hand; and in recompense shall, peradventure, keep a pound of butter in the market from melting in the sun:—­[Montaigne semi-seriously speculates on the possibility of his Ms. being used to wrap up butter.]

              “Ne toga cordyllis, ne penula desit olivis;
               Et laxas scombris saepe dabo tunicas;”

["Let not wrappers be wanting to tunny-fish, nor olives;
and I shall supply loose coverings to mackerel.” 
—­Martial, xiii.  I, I.]

And though nobody should read me, have I wasted time in entertaining myself so many idle hours in so pleasing and useful thoughts?  In moulding this figure upon myself, I have been so often constrained to temper and compose myself in a right posture, that the copy is truly taken, and has in some sort formed itself; painting myself for others, I represent myself in a better colouring than my own natural complexion.  I have no more made my book than my book has made me:  ’tis a book consubstantial with the author, of a peculiar design, a parcel of my life, and whose business is not designed for others, as that of all other books is.  In giving myself so continual and so exact an account of myself, have I lost my time?  For they who sometimes cursorily survey themselves only, do not so strictly examine themselves, nor penetrate so deep, as he who makes it his business, his study, and his employment, who intends a lasting record, with all his fidelity, and with all his force:  The most delicious pleasures digested within, avoid leaving any trace of themselves, and avoid the sight not only of the people, but of any other person.  How often has this work diverted me from troublesome thoughts? and all that are frivolous should be reputed so.  Nature has presented us with a large faculty of entertaining ourselves alone; and often calls us to it, to teach us that we owe ourselves in part to society, but chiefly and mostly to ourselves.  That I may habituate my fancy even to meditate in some method and to some end, and to keep it from losing itself and roving at random, ’tis but to give to body and to record all the little thoughts that present themselves to it.  I give ear to my whimsies, because I am to record them.  It often falls out, that being displeased at some action that civility and reason will not permit me openly to reprove, I here disgorge myself, not without design of public instruction:  and also these poetical lashes,