And he's brought a fresh stock of his puffing and puns, The Number is sure to be out to its day!" MR. COURTENAY. "You Bawlers! every moment adds Go, work the Number off, my lads, And, when I'm freed from all this riot, (Exeunt Devils, Compositors, &c. making a great noise; manet Mr. Courtenay. He sits for some time in a brown study ; -then soliloquizes:) "Alas! no King of Clubs can meet, Shall I report,-'the Club sat down- Delicious meat-the choicest wine- Or shall I let what will befal, Mr. Courtenay noddeth-yawneth-sleepeth.-A Devil_meth for the "King of Clubs."-He pulleth Mr. Courtenay by the nose.-Mr. Courtenay is thereby awakened;-he pincheth the Devil with the tongs, in imitation of St. Dunstan. He taketh pen, ink, and paper, and writeth for the space of two hours. He then thus exclaimeth : "Enough, enough-the feat is done! I'm rid of all my evils! Having much labour'd to rehearse, In something between prose and verse, Windsor, April 28, 1821. PEREGRINE COURTENAY. INTEREST. "So, for a good old gentlemanly vice, I think I must take up with Avarice." BYRON. As a want of fixed and steady principle is the ruin of youth, so a too strict adherence to our interest frequently becomes the disgrace and canker of old age: the first destroys the tender buds of our Spring with the pestilential influence of a blight; the other congeals, paralyzes, and deforms our Winter, with its chilling frost. The former having been treated of in a preceding Number, I shall confine myself to the rise, progress, and final effects of the latter. This "old gentlemanly vice" steals upon us, together with age, and is generally supposed to be the consequence, as well as characteristic, of declining years. But its seeds are not different from those of other vices. They are sown in youth; and though seldom visible to every one, are easily distinguished by the microscopic eye of the moralist. When, indeed, parsimony and an interested regard for money are discoverable in early life, it is manifest that these -seeds will ripen into avarice and rapacity: we easily perceive that the young Pacuvius may hereafter be rich, but that his riches will never bestow happiness upon their possessor, or contribute to that of his fellowcreatures. A few words may suffice to delineate the life of such a person. The calculating and penurious character of his youth is despised by his companions, whose actions are dictated by the more exalted motives of youthful generosity and feeling; his riper years are wasted in the obscure and grovelling pursuit of wealth, which will be a benefit to no one, and will not even afford enjoyment to the infatuated being who is at once its master and its slave; who, urged on by the powerful influence of avarice, will not scruple to break down any principle of honour, morality, or religion; and who, in his unbridled career, will turn a deaf ear even to the voice of nature. These observations upon the probable conduct of the covetous man are not merely speculative; they are confirmed by the examples afforded us, drawn from the history of all ages and countries. No motive (religious fanaticism excepted) has led to more horrors than avarice. It has been the incentive to crime in sovereigns, favourites, and adventurers: reigning lord of the ascendant in the minds of the two former, it has frequently proved a scourge to the Old World; and, leading on the daring enterprises of the latter, had nearly caused the utter annihilation of the inhabitants of the other Hemisphere. Such is the conduct of men, when engaged in the attainment of wealth; the fruition of which is an object as unworthy the attention of mankind, as the pursuit of it is laborious and harassing. But when age renders man incapable of the latter, and the time which he has spent in it should have brought him to the former, he shows as much obstinacy in retaining his wealth, as he did rapacity and perseverance in amassing it. He neither enjoys the fruit of his labour himself, nor contributes to the enjoyment and happiness of others: he would appear, at first sight, to hold the creed of the Indians, that the same wants and cares, which are daily experienced in this world, are to accompany us beyond the grave; and we should conclude that he was making provision for his support in the next world. But it is rather from habit, than from any assignable reason, that arises this almost unaccountable propensity to render his acquisitions useless: he has been so accustomed to consider the possession of money as the chief good of life, that he cannot persuade himself to part with it. The misery and punishment which the covetous bring upon themselves are admirably predicted in the following lines of Juvenal: "Vivat Pacuvius quæso, vel Nestora totum : Possideat quantum rapuit Nero: montibus aurum Exæquet: nec amet quemquam, nec ametur ab ullo." It is seldom (as I before observed) that the seeds of this vice are manifest in youth; yet, like the seed of the thistle, which is carried in the air, and falls unseen upon the soil, they are often too deeply sown before they are perceived. A minute and studied concern for every thing which concerns self, and a neglect of the interests and welfare of others, are the sources to which every year will add a tributary stream, until they expand into avarice and covetousness, and finally overwhelm all the barriers which honour and morality oppose to their course. The force and power which these vices finally obtain, are, of course, greater or less in proportion to the magnitude or exiguity of the fountain-head. I have already detailed the rise, progress, and effects of avarice, which is powerful and manifest, even at its beginning; it is now time that I should consider the vice of interested selfishness, which is smaller at its rise, but not less rapid in its increase, or less mischievous in its consequences. This vice is the more dangerous from the nature of its sources, which are concealed until they obtain uncontrollable force. Selfishness may have existed and increased for a long time in youth before it assumes its visible and definite form. We are seldom apt to apply the epithet of selfish to the idle or the extravagant; and, because they neglect their real interest, we fancy that they are indifferent to themselves. This is far from being the case: the fact is, they think of nothing but |