Frankenstein

he omitted.

I returned home, not disappointed, for I have said that I had long
considered those authors useless whom the professor reprobated; but I
returned, not at all the more inclined to recur to these studies in any
shape. M. Krempe was a little squat man, with a gruff voice and a
repulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me in
favour of his pursuits. In rather a too philosophical and connected a
strain, perhaps, I have given an account of the conclusions I had come
to concerning them in my early years. As a child, I had not been content
with the results promised by the modern professors of natural science.
With a confusion of ideas only to be accounted for by my extreme youth,
and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod the steps of
knowledge along the paths of time, and exchanged the discoveries of
recent enquirers for the dreams of forgotten alchymists. Besides, I had
a contempt for the uses of modern natural philosophy. It was very
different, when the masters of the science sought immortality and power;
such views, although futile, were grand: but now the scene was changed.
The ambition of the enquirer seemed to limit itself to the annihilation