measure, which kept it in a perpetual dance. It made him one of those
officiously good fellows who are never quiet themselves, and never let
any one else be quiet if they can help it. But Guy's great fault, in
this prudent world, was his absolute incontinence of money. If you had
turned a Euphrates of gold into his pockets at morning, it would have
been as dry as the Great Sahara by twelve at noon. What he did with the
money was a mystery as much to himself as to every one else. His father
said, in a letter to me, that "he had seen him shying at sparrows with
half-crowns!" That such a young man could come to no good in England,
seemed perfectly clear.

Still, it is recorded of many great men, who did not end their days in a
workhouse, that they were equally non-retentive of money. Schiller,
when he had nothing else to give away, gave the clothes from his back,
and Goldsmith the blankets from his bed. Tender hands found it
necessary to pick Beethoven's pockets at home before he walked out.
Great heroes, who have made no scruple of robbing the whole world, have
been just as lavish as poor poets and musicians. Alexander, in
parcelling out his spoils, left himself "hope"! And as for Julius
Caesar, he was two millions in debt when he shied his last half-crown at
the sparrows in Gaul. Encouraged by these illustrious examples, I had
hopes of Guy Bolding; and the more as he was so aware of his own
infirmity that he was perfectly contented with the arrangement which
made me treasurer of his capital, and even besought me, on no account,
let him beg ever so hard, to permit his own money to come in his own
way. In fact, I contrived to gain a great ascendency over his simple,
generous, thoughtless nature; and by artful appeals to his affections,--
to all he owed to his father for many bootless sacrifices, and to the
duty of providing a little dower for his infant sister, whose meditated
portion had half gone to pay his college debts,--I at last succeeded in