more distinct, wanting every thing to be finished and properly completed.  He therefore had them mounted and surrounded with ruled lines; nay, the painter Morgenstern, his domestic artist,—­the same who afterwards made himself known, and indeed famous, by his church-views,—­ had to insert the perspective lines of the rooms and chambers, which then, indeed, stood in pretty harsh contrast with those cloudy looking figures.  In this manner he thought he would make me gain greater accuracy; and, to please him, I drew various objects of still life, in which, since the originals stood as patterns before me, I could work with more distinctness and precision.  At last I took it into my head to etch once more.  I had composed a tolerably interesting landscape, and felt myself very happy when I could look out for the old receipts given me by Stock, and could, at my work, call to mind those pleasant times.  I soon bit the plate and had a proof taken.  Unluckily the composition was without light and shade, and I now tormented myself to bring in both; but, as it was not quite clear to me what was really the essential point, I could not finish.  Up to this time I had been quite well, after my own fashion; but now a disease attacked me which had never troubled me before.  My throat, namely, had become completely sore, and particularly what is called the “uvula” very much inflamed:  I could only swallow with great pain, and the physicians did not know what to make of it.  They tormented me with gargles and hair-pencils, but could not free me from my misery.  At last it struck me that I had not been careful enough in the biting of my plates, and that, by often and passionately repeating it, I had contracted this disease, and always revived and increased it.  To the physicians this cause was plausible, and very soon certain on my leaving my etching and biting, and that so much the more readily as the attempt had by no means turned out well, and I had more reason to conceal than to exhibit my labors; for which I consoled myself the more easily, as I very soon saw myself free from the troublesome disease.  Upon this I could not refrain from the reflection, that my similar occupations at Leipzig might have greatly contributed to those diseases from which I had suffered so much.  It is, indeed, a tedious, and withal a melancholy, business to take too much care of ourselves, and of what injures and benefits us; but there is no question but that, with the wonderful idiosyncrasy of human nature on the one side, and the infinite variety in the mode of life and pleasure on the other, it is a wonder that the human race has not worn itself out long ago.  Human nature appears to possess a peculiar kind of toughness and many-sidedness, since it subdues every thing which approaches it, or which it takes into itself, and, if it cannot assimilate, at least makes it indifferent.  In case of any great excess, indeed, it must yield to the elements in spite of all resistance, as the many endemic diseases and the effects of brandy convince