the general business of the community and must not be
slighted. He was quite enchanting. If I felt at all confused at that early time,
in endeavouring to reconcile anything he said with anything I had thought about
the duties and accountabilities of life (which I am far from sure of), I was
confused by not exactly understanding why he was free of them. That he was free
of them, I scarcely doubted; he was so very clear about it himself.
    »I covet nothing,« said Mr. Skimpole, in the same light way. »Possession is
nothing to me. Here is my friend Jarndyce's excellent house. I feel obliged to
him for possessing it. I can sketch it, and alter it. I can set it to music.
When I am here, I have sufficient possession of it, and have neither trouble,
cost, nor responsibility. My steward's name, in short, is Jarndyce, and he can't
cheat me. We have been mentioning Mrs. Jellyby. There is a bright-eyed woman, of
a strong will and immense power of business-detail, who throws herself into
objects with surprising ardour! I don't regret that I have not a strong will and
an immense power of business-detail, to throw myself into objects with
surprising ardour. I can admire her without envy. I can sympathise with the
objects. I can dream of them. I can lie down on the grass - in fine weather -
and float along an African river, embracing all the natives I meet, as sensible
of the deep silence, and sketching the dense overhanging tropical growth as
accurately, as if I were there. I don't know that it's of any direct use my
doing so, but it's all I can do, and I do it thoroughly. Then, for Heaven's
sake, having Harold Skimpole, a confiding child, petitioning you, the world, an
agglomeration of practical people of business habits, to let him live and admire
the human family, do it somehow or other, like good souls, and suffer him to
ride his rocking-horse!«
    It was plain enough that Mr. Jarndyce had not been neglectful of the
adjuration.
    Mr. Skimpole's general position there would have rendered it so, without the
addition of what he presently said.
    »It's only you, the generous creatures, whom I envy,« said Mr. Skimpole,
addressing us, his new friends, in an impersonal manner. »I envy you your power