that singleness of apprehension, and moderation of appetites, which
have so frequently conduced to the acquisition of immense fortunes;
qualities which he possessed in a very remarkable degree. Nature,
in all probability, had mixed little or nothing inflammable in
his composition; or, whatever seeds of excess she might have sown
within him, were effectually stifled and destroyed by the austerity
of his education.

The sallies of his youth, far from being inordinate or criminal, never
exceeded the bounds of that decent jollity which an extraordinary
pot, on extraordinary occasions, may be supposed to have produced
in a club of sedate book-keepers, whose imaginations were neither
very warm nor luxuriant. Little subject to refined sensations, he
was scarce ever disturbed with violent emotions of any kind. The
passion of love never interrupted his tranquility; and if, as Mr.
Creech says, after Horace,

Not to admire is all the art I know;
To make men happy, and to keep them so;

Mr. Pickle was undoubtedly possessed of that invaluable secret;
at least, he was never known to betray the faintest symptom of
transport, except one evening at the club, where he observed, with
some demonstrations of vivacity, that he had dined upon a delicate
loin of veal.

Notwithstanding this appearance of phlegm, he could not help feeling
his disappointments in trade; and upon the failure of a certain
underwriter, by which he lost five hundred pounds, declared his
design of relinquishing business, and retiring to the country. In