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II. "But with our industry we must likewise be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust too much to others: for as Poor Richard says, 'I never saw an oft-removed tree, Nor yet an oft-removed family,

'Many estates are spent in the getting,

Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting, And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting." If you would be wealthy think of saving, as well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her out-goes are greater than her in-comes.'

able families; for,

'Women and wine, game and deceit,
Make the wealth small, and the want great.'

the well is dry, they know the worth of water.' But this they might have known before, if they had taken his advice. If you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow some; as Poor Richard says; and, indeed, so does he for he that goes a borrowing, goes a sorrowing,' that lends to such people, when he goes to get it in again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says,

'Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse, Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.'

And again, Pride is as loud a beggar as Want, and a great deal more saucy.' When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, 'It is easier to suppress the first desire, than to satisfy all that follow it.' And it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to swell, in order to equal

the ox.

Vessels large may venture more,
But little boats should keep near shore.'

not be ashamed that a good master should catch | not worth a groat at last. A fat kitchen makes | bottom, as Poor Richard says; and then, 'When you idle? Are you then your own master? a lean Will; and, be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your king. Handle your tools without mittens; remember, that The cat in gloves catches no mice, as Poor Richard says. It is true, there is much to be done, and, perhaps you are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects; for "Away, then, with your expensive follies; Constant dropping wears away stones; and and you will not then have so much cause to by diligence and patience the mouse ate in two complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargethe cable; and little strokes fell great oaks.' "Methinks I hear some of you say, 'Must a man afford himself no leisure?" I will tell thee,. my friend, what Poor Richard says; 'Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; And farther, 'What maintains one vice, would and, since thou art not sure of a minute, throw bring up two children.' You may think, pernot away an hour.' Leisure is time for doing haps, that a little tea, or a little punch now and something useful; this leisure the diligent man then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little will obtain, but the lazy man never; for, 'A finer, and a little entertainment now and then, life of leisure and a life of laziness are two can be no great matter; but remember, 'Many things. Many, without labour, would live by a little makes a mickle.' Beware of little extheir wits only, but they break for want of pences; A small leak will sink a great ship,' It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as Poor stock; whereas industry gives comfort, and as Poor Richard says; and again, 'Who dainties Richard says, 'Pride that dines on vanity, sups plenty, and respect. Fly pleasures, and they love, shall beggars prove;' and moreover, 'Fools on contempt;-Pride breakfasted with Plenty, will follow you. The diligent spinner has a make feasts, and wise men eat them.' Here dined with Poverty, and supped with Infamy." large shift; and now that I have a sheep and you are all got together to this sale of fineries And, after all, of what use is this pride of apcow, every body bids me good-morrow." and nick-nacks. You call them goods; but, if pearance, for which so much is risked, so much you do not take care, they will prove evils to is suffered? It cannot promote health, nor some of you. You expect they will be sold ease pain; it makes no increase of merit in the cheap, and, perhaps, they may for less than they person, it creates envy, it hastens misfortune. cost; but, if you have no occasion for them, "But what madness it must be to run in they must be dear to you. Remember what debt for these superfluities! We are offered, Poor Richard says, 'Buy what thou hast no by the terms of this sale, six months' credit; need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy neces-and that, perhaps, has induced some of us to saries. And again, 'At a great penny-worth attend it, because we cannot spare the ready pause a while, he means, that perhaps the money, and hope now to be fine without it. cheapness is apparent only, and not real; or But, ah! think what you do when you run in the bargain, by straightening thee in thy busi- debt; you give to another. power over your ness, may do thee more harm than good. For liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, you in another place he says, 'Many have been will be ashamed to see your creditor; you will ruined by buying good penny-worths. Again, be in fear when you speak to him; you will It is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of make poor pitiful sneaking excuses, and, by derepentance; and yet this folly is practised grees, come to lose your veracity, and sink into And again, The eye of the master will do every day at auctions, for want of minding the base, downright lying; for 'The second vice more work than both his hands:' and again, almanack. Many a one, for the sake of finery is lying, the first is running in debt,' as Poor 'Want of care does us more damage than want on the back, have gone with an hungry belly, Richard says; and again, to the same purpose, of knowledge and again, 'Not to oversee and half starved their families; Silks and Lying rides upon Debt's back:' whereas a workmen, is to leave them your purse open.' satins, scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen free-born Englishman ought not to be ashamed "Trusting too much to others' care is the ruin fire,' as Poor Richard says. These are not the nor afraid to see or speak to any man living. of many; for, In the affairs of this world, men necessaries of life! they can scarcely be called But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit are saved, not by faith, but by the want of it: the conveniences: and yet only because they and virtue. It is hard for an empty bag to but a man's own care is profitable; for, 'If you look pretty, how many want to have them?- stand upright.'-What would you think of that would have a faithful servant, and one that you By these, and other extravagancies, the genteel prince, or of that government, who should issue like, -serve yourself. A little neglect may are reduced to poverty, and forced to borrow of an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentlebreed great mischief; for want of a shoe the those whom they formerly despised, but who, man or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment horse was lost; and for want of a horse the through industry and frugality, have maintained or servitude? Would you not say that you rider was lost; being overtaken and slain by their standing; in which case it appears plainly, were free, have a right to dress as you please, the enemy; all for want of a little care about a that A ploughman on his legs is higher than a and that such an edict would be a breach of horse-shoe nail. gentleman on his knees,' as Poor Richard says. your privileges, and such a government tyranIII. "So much for industry, my friends, and Perhaps they have had a small estate left them, nical? And yet you are about to put yourself attention to one's own business; but to these which they knew not the getting of; they under that tyranny, when you run in debt for we must add frugality, if we would make our think it is day and will never be night: that such dress? Your creditor has authority at his industry more certainly successful. A man may, a little to be spent out of so much is not worth pleasure, to deprive you of your liberty, by conif he knows not how to save as he gets, 'keep minding; but Always taking out of the meal-fining you in a gaol for life, or by selling you his nose all his life to the grind stone, and die tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the for a servant, if you should not be able to pay

That throve so well as those that settled be.'

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And again, Three removes are as bad as a fire and again, 'Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee and again, If you would have your business done, go; if not, send. And again,

'He that by the plow would thrive, Himself must either hold or drive.'

him.

When you have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but, as Poor Richard says, 'Creditors have better memories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, great observers of set days and times. The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so long, will as it lessens, appear extremely short: Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. Those have a short Lent, who owe money to be paid at Easter.' At present, perhaps, you may think yourselves in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance without injury; but,

'For age and want save while you may,
No morning-sun lasts a whole day.'

Gain may be temporary and uncertain; but ever, while you live, expence is constant and certain; and 'It is easier to build two chimneys, than to keep one in fuel,' as Poor Richard says: so, 'Rather go to bed supperless, than rise in debt,

Get what you can, and what you get hold, "Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold.' And when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure you will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of paying taxes.

IV. "This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom: but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry, and frugality, and prudence, though excellent things; for they may all be blasted without the blessing of Heaven; and therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. Remember, Job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous.

"And now to conclude,' Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other, as Poor Richard says, and scarce in that; for it is true, 'We may give advice, but we cannot give conduct. However, remember this, They that will not be counselled cannot be helped; and farther, that 'If you will not hear Reason, she will surely rap your knuckles,' as Poor Richard says."

Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it, and approved the doctrine, and immediately practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common sermon; for the auction opened, and they began to buy extravagantly. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my Almanacks, and digested all I dropt on those topics during the course of twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must have fired any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own, which he ascribed to me; but rather the gleanings that I had made of the sense of all

Such it seems is the law in America, that blessed land of liberty, where this was first published! Britons, what do you think of it?

ages and nations. However I resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and though I had at first determined to buy stuff for a new coat, I went away, resolved to wear my old one a little longer. Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as mine.—I am, as ever, thine to serve thee, RICHARD SAUNDERS.*

brated Dr. Franklin, who, wishing to collect into The above article is from the pen of the cele. one piece all the sayings upon the subject of industry, frugality, &c. which he had dropped in the course of publishing the Almanack called "Poor Richard," framed the above ingenious and amusing fiction for

that purpose.

« THEY MAY CLAIM THE FLITCH OF BACON."

This proverb alludes to a custom instituted in the manor of Little Dunmow, in Essex, by the Lord Fitzwalter, who lived in the reign of Henry III.; which was, that any wedded couwould come to the priory, and, kneeling on two ple, who, after being married a year and a day, sharp-pointed stones before the prior and convent, swear that during that time they had neither repented of their bargain, nor had any dissention, should have a gammon or flitch of bacon. The records there mention several persons who have claimed and received it. The custom of late has been left off. The form of the oath was as follows:

You shall swear by the custome of our confession,
That you never made any nuptiall transgression,
Since you were married man and wife,
By household brawls or contentions strife;
Offended each other in deed or word
Or otherwise in bed or bord,
Or since the parish clerk said "amen,"
Wished yourselves unmarried agen;
Or in a twelvemonth and a day,
Repented not in thought any way;
But continued true and in desire,
As when you join'd hands in holy quire.
If to these conditions, without all fear,
Of your own accord you will freely swear,
And bear it hence with love and good leave;
A gammon of bacon you shall receive,
For this is our custome, at Dunmow well known,
Though the sport be ours, the bacon's your own.

THE APPROACH OF WINTER.

O for a southern aspect warm,
To catch the solar rays,
Screen'd from the northern wind and storm
Of winter's coming days.

The ragged trees, their beauty gone,
(How soon is beauty fled!)
When late the sunbeams fiercely shone,
A grateful shadow spread;
Whose beams from which we then withdrew,
To gain the cool retreat,
Reluctant now to say adien,
With lively joy we greet.
Brown falling leaves bestrew the ground,
And, scatter'd far and near,
Emit a rustling, hollow sound,

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The knell of nature's year.
Sweet robin, more familiar grown,,
Begins the cold to feel,

And soon will plead, his autumn flown,
For winter's scanty meal,

Fleet swallows, to their instinct true,
Invade the chimneys high,
To plan their distant journey through
The azure trackless sky.

A few discolour'd vine leaves strive
To fringe the windows neat;
Where troops of languid flies arrive,
To feel reviving heat.

Disabled wasps now droop their wings,
The spider's easy prey;
The merry cricket fainter sings,
Once gayest of the gay.

The shelt'ring green-house now receives
Its vagrant tenants sweet,
A rising copse of varied leaves,
Gay Flora's blooming treat;
Still, tempted by delusive skies,

Bees take their wonted road,
But forage scarce, their yellow thighs
Return with half a load.

The short'ning day, declining fast,
Each evening longer grows;
While many a mental wise repast
Precedes the night's repose.
Can such a season pass away,

And no improvement give?
Can we approach our closing day,
And still supinely live?

No second spring's for dying man,
'Tis only one he knows;
One summer short, one autumn's span,
One winter's chilling snows!

Ah! then be wise, the offer seize,

And get transplanted where
No storms assail the shelter'd trees,

No blight pervades the air;

No parching drought, no flooding rains,
No enemies molest;

No anxious cares, no racking pains,
Disturb celestial rest!

How can it be?-for Jesus there

Sits high all foes above;

The fairest of ten thousand fair,
The Fount of endless love!
His smile is peace without alloy,
Diffusing new delight,
Which saints for ever shall enjoy,
Enraptur❜d with the sight.

RUSTICUS.

ON THE BIBLE. Attributed to Sir Walter Scott.

Within this sacred› volume lies
The Mystery of Mysteries;
Happiest they of human race,
To whom God has given his grace
To hope, to fear, to read, to pray,
To lift the latch, to force the way;
And better had they we'er been born,
Who read to langh, deride, and scorn!

Bristol: Printed and Published by J. & W. RICHARDSON, No. 6, Clare-Street, to whose care all communications may be addressed, post paid; also sold by J. NORTON, Corn Street, BARRY, High Street, and J. CHILCOTT, Wine Street; Mrs. BINNS, Bath; Mr. WHITE, Cheltenham; Mr. BEMROSE, Derby; Mr. HEWETT, Leamington; HAMILTON, ADAMS, and Co. Paternoster Row; and SEELEY and SON, Fleet Street, London.

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THE"

Bristol Job Nott;

No. XLV.]

UNION.

OR,

LABOURING MAN'S FRIEND.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1832.

[Price 14d.

fied with the toy when they have got it and to society, by doing each his duty in that station cry for another; to find fault with every body of life to which it has pleased God to call him. and every thing, they scarce know why, but for Let not one class of society unite against "Give a dog a bad name and hang him." The the mere sake of finding fault; to be discon- another; but let us awake to the consideration best things may be so perverted and abused as tented with the station which providence has that the great machine cannot go on, unless all to lose their proper character, and to have ideas assigned them, and which they are qualified to the wheels and pins are kept in their proper of the greatest evil associated with them. So fill, and to aim at some other station, the place, and all perform their proper office. Let it has happened with respect to the term union. troubles of which they know nothing about, those whom God has placed in higher stations Abstractedly viewed it is the greatest blessing; and the duties of which they are utterly dis- and blessed with wealth, recollect that they as disunion is a term expressive of the qualified to discharge; to lose their time, their are stewards entrusted with their Master's greatest evil, so union, which is its opposite, is employment, and consequently their bread, in goods; and let them look abroad into the field a term which naturally conveys the idea of the running after political adveutnrers, who send of benevolence which expands before them, and greatest happiness, whether in families, in them home with heads full of notions, but inquire how they can best apply their resources cities, or in society at large. But even this pockets, and bellies empty, to brood in the to increase the quantum of human happiness, term for the best of social blessings, has been secret wretchedness of their comfortless homes, or at least to diminish the mass of human so prostituted and perverted that it has been over wants and sufferings which their own misery; thus will the hearts of their inferiors made the watchword for divisions and dissen- perverseness has brought upon them;-these be drawn toward them in grateful attachment tions, and all that is calculated to disturb the are the features of modern union. Oh per- as to their benefactors;, and let those whom the peace of society, to burst the bands of civil verted term, turned to mean every thing con- same Divine providence has placed in subor, government, and to introduce anarchy, con- trary to its proper nature; so that the very dinate stations, show respect to their superiors, fusion, and ruin. Never has there been a time sound of the word produces a jarring, discor- and engage their regard by habits of industry, when the term "union" has been more osten- dant feeling in the mind. That word which peacefulness, and order. Come, my good feltatiously blazoned and pageanted about, whilst ought to excite within us ideas of concord, lows, my honoured customers, be persuaded perhaps never was there a time when less of amity, peace, good will, all that is amiable, all to know and pursue your true interests: the the real thing existed, than during that reign that is kindly and benevolent, has been so different classes of society have been too long of infatuation and ferment from which we are abused that the very sound of the word is set one against another by mutual jealousies; just now emerging. Union supposes agreement, almost revolting to a lover of order and of his and what has come of it? nothing but disorder, but in what have men been agreeing? in nothing country! and misery, and ruin let social order and but to disagree. To rail at those above them, But this is itself a great evil. Let us mutual confidence be restored, and all shall be and trample on those beneath them; to steel rescue this sweet word" union" from the re- well again. The ruins of our city are begin their hearts against the kindly feeling of our proach under which it lies. Let the word re- ning to be repaired; the stones of the ruins nature; to renounce all the sympathies of man, turn to its proper meaning; once more let it of Queen Square are beginning to be laid one and to foster enmity, hatred, malice, and all be known that union means not division but upon another; and I trust that the far worse uncharitableness; to call evil good, and good concord; not rebellion but loyalty; not railing moral ruin, to which our unhappy city has been evil; to put darkness for light, and light for against rulers, but submission to lawful reduced, is also about to be repaired by the darkness; to put bitter for sweet, and sweet authority; not quarrelling, and fighting, and building up together of the scattered fragments for bitter; to clamour for this and that fancied rioting, but order and peace; not labouring of social order.

good, like children after a new play thing, and every man to get above another, but all con- Let this good work go on, and Bristol shall then, like discontented children, to be dissatis-curring to promote the common welfare of yet know the true meaning of the maxim,

"Union is strength." It is true union is breeze has wafted him over a vast tract of ocean, ment of public matters. Whilst the abuses strength, but then what union? not the union while he "slumbered and slept." which he descants upon may perhaps impose of one class against another, that is weakness, But if a sudden consciousness of the lapse a farthing a year additional tax upon you, this for "a house divided against itself cannot stand;" of large portions of our short life occasionally declaimer is taxing you both directly and in-no, but that sort of union which binds all rouse us to that serious reflection which ought directly-directly in making you subscribe to classes in one compact fabric of social order, to be habitual, for the most part we live and his political club-and indirectly in consuming this is domestic—this is social—this is national act like spendthrifts, that reduce themselves to your time, by the due employment of which you strength. beggary by extravagance in small sums of might earn a hundred, perhaps a thousand One word more.-Common troubles unite which they take no account. A poet has well times as much as you are supposed to lose by men together by the sympathy of common suf- said, that "Procrastination is the thief of time." the political mismanagement complained of. fering: this has, I think, been verified in our It is a thief that steals this gift of inestimable These are amongst the most notorious thieves own experience. The pestilence has been one value, by tempting us to waste the present hour of time; but there are others more insinuating mean of very much softening the asperity of unprofitably, and to put off the duties and ob- and less suspected. There is the man who party feeling, by making men sensible that ligations of to-day until to-morrow. If to- stops you in the street, and lays hold of your they are mortal, and that it is not for those morrow comes, sufficient for the day are its button hole, and pins you fast, whilst he talks whose breath is in their nostrils, to waste that duties and its evils; and while we are slaves to politics or scandal to you, or tells you some fleeting breath in railing against their fellow this pernicious habit an equal or a greater load rodomantade story about his own adventures. mortals. But, if common troubles draw men of duties unperformed is again deferred to to- This he-gossip, harmless as he seems, is a together by a sense of common sufferings, morrow, so that every day comes to us like an highway robber, a reckless, ruthless robber, should not common mercies and deliverances inheritance encumbered with debt. who robs you of that which he knows not how have the effect of still further cementing them? God shews us the value of time by the way to use himself!-then there is the tale-bearing Would we, as a people, shew our gratitude to in which he bestows it. The earth and the she-gossip who assails the door of the industhe author of all our mercies, for the abatement ocean are spread out before us in their fulness trious housewife, intrudes into her privacy, of the cholera? we cannot present to him a and immensity; and their treasures are inex- and consumes those precious hours in small more acceptable thank-offering than true union haustible. Space is infinite; but time comes talk, which, but for such intrusion, would be and brotherly love. Let then all our jealousies, and goes minute after minute. We can heap given to the duties of the nursery, or it may be and divisions, and quarrels, be buried as it were up wealth; but as regards time, all are equally to acts of mercy and benevolence. 'Tis housein the grave of the cholera, to be had no more poor, for no one possesses more than the present breaking-'tis worse than petty larceny-it in remembrance; unless they be remembered moment; and we can only save it by spending robs the poor children, who are thereby deprived to heighten our gratitude, for the restoration of it well as it flies. the reign of harmony and peace.

THE THIEF OF TIME.

"Moments seize.-
"Heaven's on their wing; a moment you may wish
"When worlds want wealth' to buy."

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of a mother's invaluable lessons; it robs the poor who thereby lose the visit of charity.

But there are time stealers of a still more guileful character; there is the novel or the play As we measure the value of labour by time, that insinuates itself into the retirement of the At the present beautiful, but melancholy so in one point of view we may measure the closet, and filches from the thoughtless and season, when the bountiful earth having yielded value of time by the wealth which labour pro- vain, hours upon hours of precious time, conher treasures, is preparing for the deep repose duces. In most employments, therefore, time sumed in worse than idleness-whilst the duties of winter; when the cuckoo, the nightingale, has a fixed pecuniary value. But the enlight- of their station are neglected, and themselves and the merry lark are heard no longer, and ened conscience measures the value of time or their children are clothed with rags-or if the swallow is on the wing to warmer skies; by another and a far higher standard.- they be in stations above all these, yet (what when the woods more beautiful as their foli- How very few, however, have learned to esti- is worst of all) they are deprived of peace, of age begins to fade, are changing their deep mate the value of a day as the Roman Emperor hope, of salvation, by the polluting, ensnaring, green into the varied tints of autumn, and did, who counted it lost when it was not dis- time destroying, soul murdering productions strewing the ground with a wintry pall of wi- tinguished by some useful or benevolent action. of a corrupt licentious press! There is a time thered leaves; every object serves to remind Oh let us beware of whatever would rob us stealer still more subtle than even these. us that we ourselves are speeding to that de-of our precious time. Though we be such Sloth is the great time stealer, the very parent cay, which no earthly spring can revive. In spendthrifts of our money, let us be misers of of procrastination, which is the joint offspring spite of our reluctance to reflect as we ought on our time-husband it well, and not part with of sloth and indecision-and oh how does sloth the flight of time, particular seasons, events, the smallest portion but for its worth. Pro- deprive thousands of their invaluable time, who and circumstances will sometimes compel us to crastination is the great but not the only thief of guard it most watchfully against other assailants. consider how long we have lived, and to how time. There are many thieves who are watch- "A little more sleep a little more slumber, a little purpose. It is brought to the remem-ing to deprive us of this treasure. Beware my little more folding of the hands to sleep." This brance of the aged by the dull ear, the dim eye, friends of the man who would inveigle you to is the snare; and what is the consequence? "So the tottering limbs, and the other frailties of the tavern or the alehouse, and put the inebriat-shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and mind and body which attend declining years. ing cup into your hands. Whilst he pours thy want as an armed man." Sloth is the ensnarSometimes long-forgotten scenes and occur- poison down your throat, he at the same time ing Delilah; but her Philistine accomplices are rences rush suddenly into the mind, with all robs you. He professes perhaps to treat you behind the curtain watching their opportunity, the distinctness of those which happened yes- at free cost; but he makes you pay dearly for and ready to seize upon their victim. On the terday. By opening a book that belonged to it, by taking from you that time the right em-whole, as we tender our present comfort, or our an early and valued friend, I have just been ployment of which would put bread into the everlasting happiness, let us watch against reminded by his hand-writing, and the date mouths of your hungry children; or even whatever and whosoever would rob us of our on the title page, that nearly ten years have enable you to acquire an honourable competence. precious time. We may parodize the sentiments passed away since he has been numbered with Beware of the political spouter who calls you of the poet on another subject and saythe dead. Such recollections make us start, away from your business to listen to his declaWho steals my purse steals trash, 'I'would not sue him; and muse on our departed years, like the tra- mation upon the hardness of the times, and the veller who suddenly awakes in sight of a fo- wrongs which he will tell you are inflicted upon reigu shore, surprised to find that the night you through some real or supposed mismanage

Bat he who reckless, steals my precious time,
A treasure steals which nought enriches him,
But makes me poor indeed!
N.

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Remember that credit is money. If a man lets money lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the interest, or so much as I can make of it during that time. This amounts to a considerable sum, if a man has a good and large credit, and makes good use of it.

He that kills a breeding sow, destroys all her offspring to the thousandth generation. He that murders a crown, destroys all it might have produced, even scores of pounds.

Remember that six pounds a year are but a groat a day. For this little sum, which may daily be wasted in time or expence, unperceived, a man of credit may, on his own security, have the constant use and possession of 100. So much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious man, produces great advantage.

rather be at the trouble of receiving ten pounds,
voluntarily brought him, though at ten different
times or payments, thau be obliged to go ten
different times to demand it, before he can re-
ceive it in a lump. It shows that you are
mindful of what you owe, it makes you appear
a careful, as well as an honest man, and that
still increases your credit.

Beware of thinking all your own that you
have in your possession, and of living accord-
ingly. It is a mistake that many people who
have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an
exact account of both your expences and in-
comes. If you take the pains at first to mention
particulars, it will have this good effect, you
will discover how wonderfully small trifling
expences mount up to large sums; and will
discern what might have been, and may, for the
future, be saved, without occasioning any great
inconvenience.

A due regard also being had to the claims of benevolence; there is nothing lost by this. On the contrary, the neglect of it, becomes a rust which consumes many a hoard.-J. N.

pleasure as when the regiments of Russia saluted
us as we passed." "You have been a fortunate,
"Yes, Sir, and
and are a happy fellow," said I.
my pleasure is enewed whenever I meet with one
who knows what we had to do." Waterloo would
have furnished us with subject for three hundred
been forwarded to Campbelton by the coach, as I
miles, tired as I was. My travelling trunk had
purposed to cross the Moray Frith. When we arri-

ved at the inn, Linvited the Waterloo man to take
refreshment with me; he accepted my offer, seemed
grateful and happy. He told me he was going home
to Inverness; but as I was a stranger in these parts,
in return for my kindness, he should feel pleasure
in pointing out the striking objects which might be
seen from a lofty sandhill at the back of the town.
Accordingly, away we trudged, conversed, and took
this Highlander accosted my companion in Gaelic,
snuff like old acquaintances. On the way, a tall
and detained him a few minutes. I had no doubt
of being the subject of their remarks, their eyes
I felt uneasy,
being frequently turned towards me.
and could not suppress an increasing dislike to the
whose features exhibited all the characteristics of

figure and countenance of the meagre Highlander,

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Remember that money is of a prolific [fructifying] generating nature. Money can beget money, and its offspring can beget more, and so on; 58. turned is six; turned again it is In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, his country. His eyes were deeply sunk, his brown 7s. 3d., and on till it becomes a 1004. The is as plain as the way to market. It depends cheek-bones harshly prominent, and a long thin more there is of it, the more it produces every chiefly on two words, industry and frugality; nose, with lips so remarkably narrow, they seemed turning; so that the profits rise quicker and i. e. waste neither your time nor money, but to increase the width of his mouth; a broad chin, covered with a bristly red beard, and huge whiskers quicker. make the best use of both. He that gets all he connected with a fiery head of hair, gave him a pehonestly can, and saves all he gets, (necessary ex-culiar expression of ferocity. A small bonnet was pences excepted,)* will certainly become rich; placed on one side his head, his shirt collar was if that Being, who governs the world, to whom unbuttoned, bis clothing was threadbare, and his all should look for a blessing on their honest was glad when my Waterloo man joined me, and general appearance excited the idea of a barbarian. endeavours, doth not in his wise providence we proceeded to the summit of the Sandhill. “This" otherwise determine. said he, "is the spot on which Ohver Cromwell encamped; no one knew better how to select a good station. That building jutting into the Frith is Fort St. George, well placed to intercept the navigation, and to keep these parts in awe; but no longer necessary. On the opposite side of the Frith is the town of Fortrose, and near it the village of Rosemarche, backed by the hills of Ross. A little to the east is the entrance, by the Sonters, to Cromarty, a Onward is the Sauntering on the road between Nairn and Camp-mart for herrings in their season. is known to pay punctually and exactly to the belton, in the north of Scotland, I was overtaken by North Sea. On this side of the Frith to the southtime he promises, may at any time, and on any a Highlander, a thick-set, hardy, rough looking east are immense mounds of sand, stretching along occasion, raise all the money his friends can fellow, all nerve."Fine day, Sir," said he, with a the coast from this to Nairn, past the mouth of the "Bean- Findhorn, and beyond Forres, where the lofty build spare. This is sometimes of great use; there-friendly sort of smile on his countenance. fore, never keep borrowed money an hour be-tiful," replied 1; "how far is it to Campbelton?" ing stands in memory of Nelson. Looking inland, "About three miles, Sir." "There is no bittock at the celebrated castle of Cawdor may be seen, and yond the time you promised, lest a disappoint-the end, I hope?" "No, Sir, the distance is not far in the south the highlands of Perthshire. To the inent shut up your friend's purse for ever. west, near the banks of the Frith, is the famops field of Culloden; beyond it is the bonny town of Inverness; farther are the highlands that overlook the Hebrides and the Western Ocean." "Thank you, my good fellow," said I, putting a piece of money into his hand as I shook it. He would have refused my present-he would remember me, he said, in connection with Waterloo."Farewell, Sir, the latest passage of the Frith is about eight o'clock when the ferry-boat comes with the mail; may

Remember this saying, That the good paymaster is lord of another man's purse. He that

your

THE TRAVELLER'S ADVENTURE.

more than three English miles." "If you are going The most trifling actions that affect a man's thither," said I, and do not march in quick time, we are comrades." He doffed his bonnet, and took credit, are to be regarded. The sound of your out his snuff-box. The Waterloo medal was glistenhammer at five in the morning, or nine at night, ing on his breast, and my own thrilled with pleasure heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months at the sight; I felt respect for the wearer; unconlonger. But, if he sees you at a billiard table, scionsly I projected my finger and thumb for a pinch of snuff. or hears voice at a tavern, when "You have seen some service, my good should you fellow; in what regiment?" "The Forty-Second, be at work, he sends for his money the next SirThen you have been in the thick of it." day. Finer clothes than he or his wife wears," Aye, Sir, our regiment has a good name; there health and happiness attend you, Sir." "The same or greater expence in any particular than he are many others as brave, I think." "I am not a to you; farewell." The last glimpse I had of him affords himself, shocks his pride, and he duns you to humble you. Creditors are a kind of people that have the sharpest eyes and ears, as well as the best memories, of any in the world. Good-natured creditors (and such one would always chuse to deal with if one could) feel pain when they are obliged to ask for money. Spare them that pain, and they will love you. When you receive a sum of money, divide it among them according to your debts.

soldier," continued I," but I have some intimacies with the pleasures and privations, to which he is subjected. I visited the field of Waterloo shortly after the battle; saw the scattered fragments of the soldier's accoutrements, the newly-raised heaps of mould, and the scorched earth, where fire had as sisted in hiding the havoc of that day: were you wounded?" "I was hit, Sir, towards the close of the battle, and while on the ground, pierced by a lancer as his horse leaped over me; but I was carried to the rear, and afterwards to an out-house at Mont St. Jean, where my wounds were attended to, and being in good health, I soon lessened the trouDo not be ashamed of paying a small sum, ble of the surgeon, refused to go to Antwerp with because you owe a greater. Money, more or my disabled comrades, but joined my regiment in less, is always welcome, and your creditor would time to march into Paris; never did I feel such

The sun

was while he was waving his bonnet in the air to
me, as he passed on his way to Inverness. I sat
down, and reviewed the delightful scene.
now and then illumined the white sails of the ship-
ping as they passed, and touched with brightness
many distant objects I had not seen before. I
regretted the loss of my guide. I felt a loneliness,
and gazed about with an approach to unconsci-
ousness, till I was aroused by seeing the tall
Highlander slowly pacing along the sandy road,
that wound from the hill towards the ferry at Fort
George. All the unfavourable impressions I had
received at first sight of that man returned. We
can dislike an object till we dread it; perhaps some
fear mingled in my thoughts. I judged our compa-
tive strength. 1-knew how to use my stick, and it

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