Yes, I will go to sea; cut my kind uncles and aunts, and
sympathizing patrons, and leave no heavy hearts but those in my own
home, and take none along but the one which aches in my bosom.
Cold, bitter cold as December, and bleak as its blasts, seemed the
world then to me; there is no misanthrope like a boy disappointed;
and such was I, with the warmth of me flogged out by adversity. But
these thoughts are bitter enough even now, for they have not yet
gone quite away; and they must be uncongenial enough to the reader;
so no more of that, and let me go on with my story.
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