But what, methinks, exclaims the reader, has all this to do with the
proposition in hand, viz. the necessity of keeping a friend in one's
pocket? Why, I'll tell you--from a due consideration of this very
principle, you will soon see the use of a man's keeping his _money_ in
his pocket. It is this alone (the pocket) which nowadays constitutes the
centre of friendship; there alone, therefore, must this most valuable,
most faithful of all friends (_money_) be deposited. Now if this friend
be of magnitude, he will soon collect many more around you, who, true as
the needle to the pole, will point to you from every quarter--friends who
will smile in your prosperity, bask in the sunshine of your glory, dance
while you pay the piper, and to the very ground will be "votre très
humble serviteur, monsieur." But if by sickness, misfortune, generosity,
or the like, this friend be removed from your pocket, the centre is
destroyed, the equilibrium is lost, away fly your friends, and, like
pelicans, turn their beaks at your breast whenever you approach. "It is
your own fault, fellow; you might have done well if you would; but you
are an ass, and could not keep a friend when you had him; and so you may
die in a ditch, and go to the devil, my dear."

The man of affluence, who lavishes away his substance, may aptly enough
be likened to a porpoise sporting in the ocean--the smaller fry play
around him, admire his dexterity, fan his follies, glory in his gambols;
but let him once be enmeshed in the net of misfortune, and they who
foremost fawned under his fins, will first fall foul of him.

Now, to illustrate the subject further, let us consider the advantages
arising from this practical use of gravitation, and the losses attendant
upon the neglect thereof. First, then, he who _has_ secured this friend
in his pocket, may go _when_ he pleases, and _where_ he pleases, and