And be it that those unfortunate creatures that have thus blown
themselves up in trade, have miscarried for want of knowing, or for want
of practising, what is here offered for their direction, whether for
want of wit, or by too much wit, the thing is the same, and the
direction is equally needful to both.

An old experienced pilot sometimes loses a ship by his assurance and
over confidence of his knowledge, as effectually as a young pilot does
by his ignorance and want of experience--this very thing, as I have been
informed, was the occasion of the fatal disaster in which Sir Cloudesley
Shovel, and so many hundred brave fellows, lost their lives in a moment
upon the rocks of Scilly.[1]

He that is above informing himself when he is in danger, is above pity
when he miscarries--a young tradesman who sets up thus full of himself,
and scorning advice from those who have gone before him, like a horse
that rushes into the battle, is only fearless of danger because he does
not understand it.

If there is not something extraordinary in the temper and genius of the
tradesmen of this age, if there is not something very singular in their
customs and methods, their conduct and behaviour in business; also, if
there is not something different and more dangerous and fatal in the
common road of trading, and tradesmen's management now, than ever was
before, what is the reason that there are so many bankrupts and broken
tradesmen now among us, more than ever were known before? I make no
doubt but there is as much trade now, and as much gotten by trading, as
there ever was in this nation, at least in our memory; and if we will
allow other people to judge, they will tell us there is much more trade,