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And gold not only ruins men, but nations ;

The richest states are mostly the least free:
To warlike tribes they hold out such temptations,

That, countless as the sands that skirt the sea,
They march against them, seeking wealth and rations,

Like hungry wolves, where herds and flocks may be :
Your famish'd armies ever are victorious,
Thus even destitution makes men glorious.

Ab, Rome! hadst thou been filled with ragged gentry,

And hovels made of mud, -to pomp unknown ;
And had thy citizens, instead of plenty,

Not all possess'd one talent of their own,
The Goths from thy high seat ad never rent thee,

Nor eome iu search of plunder and a throne:
But, being wealthy, thou wast sought and plunderd;
Thy people pillaged, and thy empire sunderd.

Nature herself has set her curse on gold,

And sterile is the soil where it is found-
Blank, desolate, and barren, though not cold;

Scarce does an eatable adorn the ground*, Whose depths the precious-evil ore epfold;

While poorer lands see harvests smile around;
So that it scarcely yields the man a supper,
Who acts the part of terra.firma cupper.

Who'd wish to live, when others wish him dead?

The rich are often in this hopeful case;
When nephews-cousins, in expectance bred,

Long for the happy hour to fill his place:
They mark his inalady, but not with dread;

And deem that he must soon bave run his race :
While he, with nothing to bequeath, may die
Or live, just as he can; none joy, nor cry.

A family that once loved one another,

When some rich grey-beard dies, are set by th'ears;
Sister hates sister,-- brother laws with brother,


And strife bursts forth coeval with their tears : Th'unequal legacies all fondness smother,

And heart-congealing gold affection sears; While he who dies and leaves his kindred nought, Is mourn'd, and they in love are closer brought.

* As a fact, true enough-at Icast for poetry.

Some labour half their pilgrimage below,

As if life were but given to heap up gold ;
And scratch, and scrape, and shuffle as they go;

And want and toil endure, and heat and cold, Moving the veriest spectacles of woe ;

But, growing, somewhat wiser wlien they're old, They turn to spendthrifts when their hairs are grey, And haply live to waste the whole away.

Some count the greatest grief of life, taxation;

Paying for borses, dogs, and mules, like asses ;
And servants,--threefold objects of vexation;

Their drinks are tax’d, even to their very glasses ; And carriages, that only breed laxation;

And thus their money like a vapour passes ! . Why- let them wince-my“ withers are unwrung!" I move, untax'd, a taxed host among.

That law 's a torment is by all confest;

A fever and an ague mix'd in one:
The man, who wealth or credit once possest,

It follows up, till he must hide or run ;
It gives its victim neither peace nor rest,

Till he is what the world calls fairly done;
When lost within its everlasting mazes,
The most deplorable on earth his case is.


Where there is little wealth, the suit soon ends;

But writs, demurrers, pleadings, declarations, Lengthen when lawyers have substantial friends,

Who pay for the aforesaid cogitations-
Which be's a cunning man who comprehends,

With all their technical reiterations ;
Until at last the equal chance is, whether
Life, suit, and fortune, may not end together.

The poor know nothing of this paper woe-

For, in the first place, none will give them credit; And, in the second, if they should, they know

That, as for suing, they bave cause to dread it; For then their money would not come--but go

And few, in losing law-suits, care to spread it: Thus debtors, without cash, or house, or land, May safe 'midst lawyers, bailiffs, jailors stand.

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A writer says, when he beholds a table

Cover'd with many and luxurious dishes,
To which the guests do honour while they're able;

He sees there lurk, ʼmidst pies, meats, soups, and fishes,
All sorts of maladies, (and 'tis no fable-)

For, while they charm their epicurean wishes,
They quickly bring themselves to that condition,
That makes a good long bill to their physician.

Then, by the way of change, as I suppose,

Or, that the next feast may not want a zest;
They breakfast, dine, and sup too, upon those

Unpalatable things by doctors prest
Upon unwilling patients-mortal foes

To stomachs that still doat upon the best;
For pills, draughts, powders, make but sorry fare
For those who turtle, -venison,- love to share.

And that's the reason why their customers

Are term’d so aptly patients, they endure
The nauseous stuff so long, that it infers

A stock of patience, never ending, pure;
Not that I mean the doctor e'er defers

Beyond a reasonable time the cure,
Which would be libelling a whole profession,-
That's left to individual confession!

Where there is money, doctors will send physic,

And rich folk, being nervous, take it too;
Until at last the patient really is sick,

And then the case goes regularly through:
I want none,-know not colic, gout, nor phthisic;

Nature is my physician, safe and true;
And each prescription that she sends me nice is,
And always bears me safely through the crisis.

It often strikes me that the Chinese way

Of paying a physician is the best;
'Tis a good plan to sayếno cure, no pay ;

Their's is still better, as must be confest;
They only pay them when they're well,—the day

That they fall sick, their pension is suppress'd ;
Hence they make quick despatch with each disorder,
And sooner put their patients in good order.

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Short meals, the doctors tell us, sharpen wit;

And hence the poor have always their's at hand,
And mostly in perfection, as is fit,-

Seeing it serves in place of house or land:
The rich, when they have dined, will sometimes sit

As lifeless as a fish upon the strand;
While I, by chance it happens, miss a dinner,
Yet feel not much the worse, nor much the thinner,

If every station has its share of bliss,

Then what is pleasure, differs but in name ;
There's joy for all in such a world as this-

In luxury or temperance, 'tis the same
Enjoyment is but what we think it is;

And I have mine, though some may deem it lame :
The high, the low, have each their separate joys ;
Those of the poor, no poverty destroys.

But here we close the theme-perchance too long ;

It will not tempt the rich to cast away
The treasures that they hold with grasp so strong;

But it may show, in fancy's idle play,
That there are joys the poorest ranks among,

That poverty. may have it's summer day;
If nothing wont content us, yet a little
May make us blest - with raiment, home, and victual.

J. B.


This subject was several years ago powerfully investigated by Mr. Bentham, in a treatise, entitled “ the Defence of Usury.” An able and elaborate article has also been written upon it in “the Supplement to the Encyclopædia Britannica :” and it has peculiarly engaged the public attention by the annual introduction into parliament of a bill to repeal the whole of the laws which limit the rate of interest.

Although the question may not be very interesting in a literary aspect, it is obviously of the first importance to the public interest; and, more or less, to every individual in the


The laws which impose severe penalties upon those who take a higher rate of interest than 5 per cento, formed no part of the discussion. The question stated, wasWould it be beneficial to abolish the Laws which regulate the Interest of Money?" We had, therefore, only to consider the principle upon which restraint was justified.

It was contended by the proposer of the question, that it was beneficial for the community at large to limit the rate of interest to 5 per cent. :~that the measure of good which resulted from the restriction, was the true criterion by which to determine the point;—that the legislature possessed a right to enact such provisions as would promote the interests of the community, and check whatever was injurious ;--that those interests greatly depended on national industry,--and whatever encouraged industry was, therefore, of the first importance ;--that nothing could be more prejudicial to a state than a system which enabled the idle and profligate to riot on the wealth accumulated by the laborious ;—that labour was the only source of durable prosperity, and every protection should be given to insure its success.

As a general principle, therefore, it appeared unjust and impolitic to permit those who possessed capital to exact from the skill and labour, by which it was applied, an undue and unlimited share of profit. That some interest should be allowed for the use of money, was consistent with reason and propriety: it could not otherwise be expected to be lent. The lender had also a right to remuneration, because either he, or those from whom he derived his wealth, had obtained it by laborious exertion, and labour was entitled to its reward. Besides, the loan was advantageous to the borrower, and he who was the cause of the advantage, was entitled to participate in it. But the interest of capital should bear a proportion to skill and labour. If the combined profit was 15 per cent., it should be divided into three shares. The talent that devised the mode of employing the money was entitled to as much as the wealth that supplied it; and the industry that effected the object, ought also to receive an equal proportion. If then the profit derivable from the use of money in trade, commerce, or agriculture, was 15 per cent. it seemed clear and reasonable that one-third was a sufficient compensation to him who merely advanced the capital, without exerting either ingenuity or labour in its application.

The fact, however, appeared to be, that the average profit of the national industry did not at present amount to 15 per cent. it generally did not exceed 8 or 10 per cent. and consequently 3 per cent. would be the fair proportion to be paid

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