The Only Thing In The Way Of Poetry That He Ever
Read Was Falconer's Shipwreck, Which He Was Delighted With,
And Whole Pages Of Which He Could Repeat.
He knew the name
of every sailor that had ever been his shipmate, and also,
of every vessel, captain,
And officer, and the principal dates
of each voyage; and a sailor whom he afterwards fell in with,
who had been in a ship with Harris nearly twelve years before,
was very much surprised at having Harris tell him things about
himself which he had entirely forgotten. His facts, whether dates
or events, no one thought of disputing; and his opinions, few of
the sailors dared to oppose; for, right or wrong, he always had
the best of the argument with them. His reasoning powers were
remarkable. I have had harder work maintaining an argument with
him in a watch, even when I knew myself to be right, and he was
only doubting, than I ever had before; not from his obstinacy,
but from his acuteness. Give him only a little knowledge of his
subject, and, certainly among all the young men of my acquaintance
and standing at college, there was not one whom I had not rather meet,
than this man. I never answered a question from him, or advanced
an opinion to him, without thinking more than once. With an iron
memory, he seemed to have your whole past conversation at command,
and if you said a thing now which ill agreed with something said
months before, he was sure to have you on the hip.
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