creditors. When the sixty days run out, you will have to pay. If you do
not pay, you will break your promise, and probably resort to a
falsehood. You may make some excuse or get in debt elsewhere to pay it,
but that only involves you the deeper.

A good-looking, lazy young fellow, was the apprentice boy, Horatio. His
employer said, "Horatio, did you ever see a snail?" "I - think - I -
have," he drawled out. "You must have met him then, for I am sure you
never overtook one," said the "boss." Your creditor will meet you or
overtake you and say, "Now, my young friend, you agreed to pay me; you
have not done it, you must give me your note." You give the note on
interest and it commences working against you; "it is a dead horse." The
creditor goes to bed at night and wakes up in the morning better off
than when he retired to bed, because his interest has increased during
the night, but you grow poorer while you are sleeping, for the interest
is accumulating against you.

Money is in some respects like fire; it is a very excellent servant but
a terrible master. When you have it mastering you; when interest is
constantly piling up against you, it will keep you down in the worst
kind of slavery. But let money work for you, and you have the most
devoted servant in the world. It is no "eye-servant." There is nothing
animate or inanimate that will work so faithfully as money when placed
at interest, well secured. It works night and day, and in wet or dry
weather.

I was born in the blue-law State of Connecticut, where the old Puritans
had laws so rigid that it was said, "they fined a man for kissing his
wife on Sunday." Yet these rich old Puritans would have thousands of
dollars at interest, and on Saturday night would be worth a certain