and consuming herself. And this many rich men do, loading themselves with corroding cares to keep what they have already got. Let us, therefore, be thankful for health and competence, and, above all, for a quiet conscience."

La Bruyère wisely remarks, "Let us not envy some men their accumulated riches; their burden would be too heavy for us; we could not sacrifice, as they do, health, honour, quiet, and conscience, to obtain them. It is to pay so dear for them that the bargain is a loss."

The classic page furnishes examples of a noble contempt of wealth, and a virtuous preference of poverty over venality and lust of riches. These, however, are rather exceptions to the rule which sustains the converse of the proposition; and before turning to the bright side let us briefly refer to one or two instances of the baneful effects of avarice on the human heart.

The inordinate desire of wealth has been the occasion of more mischief and misery in the world than anything else. Some of the direst evils with which the world has ever been afflicted have emanated from this source. No sooner had Columbus solved the problem of the Western Continent, than the accursed lust of gold began to fire the sordid hearts of his successors. Every species of perfidy, cruelty, and inhumanity, towards the aborigines was practised against them, in order to extort from them their treasures; these mercenary. wretches, forcing the natives of Hispaniola so mercilessly to delve and toil for the much-coveted ore, that they actually reduced their numbers, within less than half a century, from two millions to about one hundred and fifty. The conquest of Mexico, by Cortez and his followers, impelled by the same insatiable passion, was accompanied with horrors, atrocities, and slaughters, more dreadful and revolting than almost any recorded in the annals of our race. To prepare the way for enjoying the plunder they had in view, the unoffending Indians were butchered by thousands; while carnage and every species of heartless cruelty marked their progress of spoliation. In the siege of Mexico, no less than a hundred thousand of the natives were sacrificed; and, as if to add to the effrontery and

depravity of the act, it was perpetrated under the standard of the cross, and with the invocation of the god of armies to aid the conquests. The like atrocities characterised the expedition of Pizarro for the conquest of Peru. Under perfidious professions of amity, they captured the Inca, butchering some four thousand of his unresisting attendants. The unfortunate emperor, vainly hoping to regain his freedom, offered them as many vessels of gold as would fill an apartment twenty-four feet long, sixteen wide, and eight high; and after having dispatched messengers to collect the promised treasures, he had fulfilled his engagement, when they vilely broke truce, and burnt their wretched victim. What a fearful catalogue of crime might be cited from the history of religion-Pagan, Papal, and even Christian. The baneful effects of avarice, whether displayed in individual conduct, or among communities of men, are the same. We must content ourselves with referring briefly to a few instances of the former, as illustrative of the force of this debasing evil.

In the year 1790, died at Paris, literally of want, the wellknown banker Ostervald. This miserable victim of this disease, a few days prior to his death, resisted the importunities of his attendant to purchase some meat for the purpose of making a little soup for him. "True, I should like the soup," he said, "but I have no appetite for the meat; what is to become of that? it will be a sad waste." This poor wretch died possessed of £125,000 sterling. Another desperate case was that of Elwes, whose diet and dress were alike of the most revolting kind, and whose property was estimated at £800,000 sterling. Among other characteristic incidents related of him, it is said that on the approach of that dread summons which was to divorce him from his cherished gold, he exclaimed, “I will keep my money-nobody shall rob me of my property." We meet with the name of Daniel Dancer, whose miserly propensities were indulged to such a degree, that on one occasion, when, at the urgent solicitation of a friend, he ventured to give a shilling to a Jew for an old hat-" better as new"-to the astonishment of his friend, the next day he actually retailed it

for eighteen pence. He was in the habit of carrying a snuffbox about with him, not for the purpose of regaling his olfactory organ, but for what does the reader suppose ? to collect pinches of the aromatic dust from his snuff-taking friends; and when the box was filled, he would barter its contents for a farthing rushlight! He performed his ablutions at a neighbouring pool, drying himself in the sun, to save the extravagant indulgence of a towel. Other eccentricities are chronicled of this remarkable " case"-such as lying in bed during the cold weather to save the cost of fuel, and eating garbage to save the charges for food; yet this poor mendicant had property to the extent of upwards of £3000 per annum. There was a Russian merchant-never mind his name, it is too barbarously burdened with consonants to spell or pronounce-who was so prodigiously wealthy, that on one occasion he loaned the empress Catherine the Second a million of roubles, although he lived in the most deplorable state of indigence, privation, and wretchedness. He buried his money in casks in his cellar, and was so great a miser that he seemed almost to thrive upon his very passion. He had his troubles, however, for reposing his trust for the security of his possessions upon the fierceness and fidelity of his favourite dog, his bulwark of safety failed him. The dog very perversely died, and his master was driven to the disagreeable alternative of officiating in the place of the deceased functionary, by imitating the canine service-going his rounds every evening and barking as well as any human dog could be expected to do.

M. Vandille, of Paris, was one of the most remarkable instances on record of immense wealth being combined with extreme penuriousness; he lodged as high up as the roof would admit, as certain poor poets are said to do, and lived on stale bread and diluted milk; notwithstanding he possessed great property in the public funds. Chancellor Hardwicke, when worth £800,000, set the same miserly value on a shilling as when he possessed but £100; and the great Duke of Marlborough, when near the close of life, was in the habit of exhibiting singular meanness to save a sixpence, although his

property was over a million and a half sterling. The cases we have adduced are extreme instances of the influence of avarice; but it should not be forgotten that the principle of covetousness is the same in its tendency wherever it exists, and it is only in consequence of the counteracting force of circumstances that all its victims fail to present the same degree of degradation and wretched moral deformity.

More recently, we read of an instance which occurred at Newby, in Westmoreland, This individual, when a young man, became possessed of a little property; he worked as a labourer, and added to his store; through a long series of years he scraped and saved, denying himself every comfort and almost real necessaries. During his latter years he lived in a cottage alone, in the most wretched style. Several estates had been mortgaged to him; and a box which he kept at the foot of his bed, and upon which his eyes were fixed when dying, contained money and securities of the value of £20,000.

The well-known Nat Bentley (alias Dirty Dick) of London, belongs to this category. This eccentric specimen of humanity was the victim not only to a craving for gold, but also for old iron. We have a dim recollection of the dingy old shop in Leadenhall-street, piled up with heaps of all kinds of old iron and lumber. The last twenty years of his miserable existence were spent in dirt and destitution. Another deplorable case might be cited-that of Thomas Pitt, of Warwickshire. All his solicitude was about his money; his pulse rose and fell with the public funds. He lived over thirty years ensconced in a gloomy garret, never enlivened with light of lamp or fire, or the cheering smile of friendship. It is reported, that some weeks prior to the sickness which terminated his despicable career, he went to several undertakers in quest of a cheap coffin, As he lived without the regards, so he died without the regrets, of his neighbours a miserable illustration of the corrupting influence of cupidity. He left behind him £2475 in the public funds. Another instance is that of the notorious Thomas Cook. His ruling passion showed itself in all its intensity at the close of his life, for on his physician intimating the possibility of his

not existing more than five or six days, with a fierce look of indignation, he protested against the useless expense of sending him medicine, and charged the doctor never to show his face to him again. This wretched man died unlamented in his 86th year, a long lease shamefully abused and dishonoured. His property was estimated at about £130,000! How horribly debased a man becomes when he surrenders himself up to the fiendish passion for gain. His influence is moral poison. Audley was another notorious instance. He lived in the days of the Stuarts, and amassed much wealth during the reign of the first Charles and the Protectorate. He made most of his money by usury and legal chicanery. On one occasion, having obtained for fifty pounds the debt of an insolvent for £200— he induces the party under obligation to sign a contract that he should pay, within twenty years from that time, one penny,. progressively doubled on the first day of twenty consecutive months, and in case of failure to forfeit £500. Not suspecting the cunningly-devised cheat, the poor debtor recommences business, succeeds, and at the appointed time is called upon by the miser for the instalments. After making several payments, he began to figure up the amount for which he had made himself liable in liquidation of his debt of £200. To what sum, do you suppose, would his new liabilities amount? To no less than £2180! and to what the aggregate sum of all these twenty monthly payments? Why the enormous total of four thousand three hundred and sixty-six pounds, eleven shillings and three pence.

Misers like to feast their eyes with their treasure as well as to handle it. We cite an instance from a recent writer,* to this effect. It is an anecdote related of Sir William Smyth, of Bedfordshire. He was immensely rich, but most parsimonious and miserly in his habits. At seventy years of age, he was entirely deprived of his sight, unable to gloat over his hoarded heaps of gold; this was a terrible affliction. He was persuaded by Taylor, the celebrated oculist, to be couched: who

* Merryweather.