One Thousand Secrets of Wise and Rich Men Revealed Part 21

And again, he adviseth to circ.u.mspection and care, even in the smallest matters; because, sometimes, _A little neglect may breed great mischief_; adding, _for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost_; being overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for want of a little care about a horseshoe nail!

So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own business; but to these we must add frugality, if we would make our industry more certainly successful. _A man may_, if he knows not how to save as he gets, _keep his nose all his life to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last. A fat kitchen makes a lean will_, as Poor Richard says; and

Many estates are spent in the getting, Since women for tea[3] forsook spinning and knitting, And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting.

[3] Tea at this time was a costly drink, and was regarded as a luxury.

If you would be wealthy, says he in another Almanac, _Think of saving as well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich; because her outgoes are greater than her incomes._

Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families; for, as Poor d.i.c.k says,--

Women and wine, game and deceit, Make the wealth small and the wants great.

And farther, _What maintains one vice would bring up two children._ You may think, perhaps, that a _little_ tea, or a _little_ punch now and then; a diet a _little_ more mostly; clothes a _little_ more finer; and a _little_ more entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember what Poor Richard says, _Many a little makes a mickle_; and further, _Beware of little expenses_; _A small leak will sink a great ship_; and again,--

Who dainties love, shall beggars prove;

and moreover, _Fools make feasts and wise men eat them_.

Here are you all got together at this vendue of fineries knick-knacks.

You call them _goods_; but if you do not take care, they will prove evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may for less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for them, they must be _dear_ to you. Remember what Poor Richard says: _Buy what thou hast no need of and ere long thou shalt sell thy necessaries._ And again, _At a great pennyworth, pause a while._ He means, that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only, and not real; or the bargain by straitening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm than good. For in another place he says, _Many have been ruined by buying good pennyworths._

Again, Poor Richard says, _'Tis foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance_; and yet this folly is practiced every day at vendues for want of minding the _Almanac_.

_Wise men_, as Poor Richard says, _learn by others' harms_; _Fools scarcely by their own_; but _Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum._[4] Many a one for the sake of finery on the back, has gone with a hungry belly, and half-starved their families. _Silks and satins, scarlets and velvets_, as Poor Richard says, _put out the kitchen fire_. These are not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be called the conveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many _want_ to have them! The artificial wants of mankind thus become more numerous than the natural; and, as Poor d.i.c.k says, _For one_ poor _person there are a hundred_ indigent.

[4] He's a lucky fellow who is made prudent by other men's perils.

By these and other extravagances, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it appears plainly, that _A ploughman on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees_, as Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small estate left them, which they know not the getting of; they think, _'Tis day, and will never be night_, that a _little to be spent out of so much is not worth minding_; (_A child and a fool_, as Poor Richard says, _imagine_ twenty shilling and twenty years can never be spent), but _Always taking out of the meal-tub and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom._ Then, as Poor d.i.c.k says, _When the well's dry, they know the_ _worth of water_. But this they might have known before, if they had taken his advice. _If you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow some_; for _He that goes a borrowing, goes a sorrowing_, and indeed, so does he that lends to such people, _when he goes to get it again_.

Poor d.i.c.k further advises and says--

Fond pride of dress is, sure a very curse; Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.

And again, _Pride is as loud a beggar as Want, and a great deal more saucy._ When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor d.i.c.k says, _'Tis easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it._ And 'tis as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to swell in order to equal the ox.

Great estates may venture more, But little boats should keep near sh.o.r.e.

'Tis, however, a folly soon punished; for, _Pride that dines on vanity sups on contempt_, as Poor Richard says. And in another place, _Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty and supped with Infancy_.

And after all, what use is this pride of appearance, for which so much is risked, so much is suffered? It cannot promote health or ease pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy; it hastens misfortune.

What is a b.u.t.terfly? At best He's but a caterpillar drest, The gaudy fop's his picture just,

as poor Richard says.

But what madness must it be to _run into debt_ for these superfluities!

We are offered, by the terms of this vendue, six months' credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, and hope now to be fine without it. But, ah!

think what you do when you run in debt: _You give to another power over your liberty._ If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose our veracity, and sink into base, downright lying; for, as Poor Richard says, _The second vice is lying, the first is running into debt_; and again, to the same purpose, _lying rides upon debt's back_; whereas a free-born Englishman ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any man living. But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. _'Tis hard for an empty bag to stand upright!_ as Poor Richard truly says. What would you think of that prince, or that government who should issue an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say that you are free, have a right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of your privileges, and such a government tyranical? And yet you are about to put yourself under such tyranny, when you run in debt for such dress! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of your liberty, by confining you in jail for life, or to sell you for a servant, if you should not be able to pay him.[5] When you have got your bargain you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but _Creditors_ (Poor Richard tells us) _have better memories than debtors_; and in another place says, _Creditors are a superst.i.tious set, great observers of set days and times._ The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you will bear your debt in mind, the term which at first seemed so long will, as it lessens, appear extremely short. Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. _Those have a short Lent_, saith Poor Richard, _who owe money to be paid at Easter._ Then since, as he says, _The borrower is a slave to the lender, and the debtor to the creditor_, disdain the chain, preserve your freedom, and maintain your independency. Be _industrious_ and _free_; be _frugal_ and _free_. At present, perhaps, you may think yourself in thriving circ.u.mstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance without injury; but--

For age and want, save while you may, No morning sun lasts a whole day.

[5] At the time when this was written, and for many years afterward, the laws against bankrupts and poor debtors were extremely severe.

As Poor Richard says, gain may be temporary and uncertain; but ever, while you live, expense is constant and certain; and _'Tis easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel_, as Poor Richard says; so, _Rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt._

Get what you can and what you get hold: 'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead in gold,[6]

as Poor Richard says; and, while you have got the Philosopher's stone, sure, you will no longer complain of bad times or the difficulty of paying taxes.

[6] In the Middle Ages there was a great search made for the philosopher's stone, as it was called, a mineral which should have the power of turning base metals into gold.

This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence, though excellent things; for they may all be blasted without the blessing of Heaven; and therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. Remember Job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous.

And now, to conclude, _Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other, and scarce in that_; for it is true, _We may give advice, but we cannot give conduct_, as Poor Richard says. However, remember this, _They that won't be counselled, can't be helped_, as Poor Richard says; and further, that, _If you will not hear reason, she'll surely rap your knuckles._

Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it, and approved the doctrine; and immediately practiced the contrary, just as if it had been a common sermon. For the vendue opened, and they began to buy extravagantly, notwithstanding all his cautions, and their own fear of taxes. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my _Almanacs_, and digested all I had dropped on those topics during the course of five-and-twenty-years. The frequent mention he made of me must have tired any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I had made of the sense of all ages and nations. However, I resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and, though I had at first determined to buy stuff for a new coat, I went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer. Reader, if thou wilt do the same, _thy_ profit will be as great as mine. I am, as ever, thine to serve thee.

July 7, 1757. RICHARD SAUNDERS.

THE WATER-MILL.

Oh! listen to the water-mill, through all the live-long day, As the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away; How languidly the autumn wind doth stir the withered leaves, As on the field the reapers sing, while binding up the sheaves!

A solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

The summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o'er earth and main, The sickle never more will reap the yellow garnered grain; The rippling stream flows on, aye tranquil, deep, and still, But never glideth back again to busy water-mill.

The solemn proverb speaks to all, with meaning deep and vast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Oh! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and true, For golden years are fleeting by, and youth is pa.s.sing, too; Ah! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy day, For time will ne'er return sweet joys neglected, thrown away; Nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broadcast-- "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Oh! the wasted hours of life, that have swiftly drifted by, Alas! the good we might have done, all gone without a sigh; Love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word, Thoughts conceived but ne'er expressed, perishing unpenned, unheard.

Oh! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of strength and will, The streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking watermill; Nor wait until to-morrow's light beams brightly on thy way.

For all that thou canst call thine own, lies in the phrase, "to-day;"

Possessions, power, and blooming health, must all be lost at last--

"The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Oh! love thy G.o.d and fellow man, thyself consider last, For come it will when they must scan dark errors of the past; Soon will this fight of life be o'er, and earth recede from view, And heaven in all its glory shine where all is pure and true.

Ah! then thou'lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

D. C. MCCALLUM.

Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty G.o.d! I know not what course others may take, but for me, give me liberty or give me death.

PATRICK HENRY.