"I won't believe a word of it until I have undoubted evidence of the
fact. It can't be!" said Paul, pacing the floor in considerable
perturbation of mind.

But it was all so, as he very soon ascertained, to his deep regret
and mortification at allowing another to carry off the prize he had
thought his own. When next under the influence of the tender
passion, my friend took good care to do in good time just what he
was going to do.

Paul was perfectly aware of his defect, and often made the very best
resolutions against it, but it generally happened that they were
broken as soon as made. It was so easy to put off until the next
hour, or until to-morrow, a little thing that might just as well be
done now. Generally, the thing to be done was so trifling in itself,
that the effort to do it appeared altogether disproportionate at the
time. It was like exerting the strength of a giant to lift a pebble.

Sometimes the letters and papers would accumulate upon his desk for
a week or ten days, simply because the effort to put away each
letter as it was read and answered, and each paper as it was used,
seemed so great when compared with the trifling matter to be
accomplished, as to appear a waste of effort, notwithstanding time
enough would be spent in reading the newspapers, conversation, or
sitting idly about, to do all this three or four times over. When
confusion reached its climax, then he would go to work most
vigorously, and in a few hours reduce all to order. But usually some
important paper was lost or mislaid, and could not be found at the
time when most needed. It generally happened that this great effort
was not made until he had been going to do it for three or four