night to go to the play, and show his friends he was still living. Such men are, I think, fair game; amusing fellows, whose existence was a paradox, they seemed so perfectly useless, until a wag made the discovery that they were made to be laughed at. Were it not for these truly valuable members of society, in the present dearth of merry authors, the world of literature would be as dull as our old professor's lectures, on-every thing that came into his head.

The last and most serious charge you have insinuated against me, is that of cherishing a confirmed antipathy to charitable institutions, and especially to those venerable married ladies, and thrice venerable spinsters, who go about our cities like roaring lions, doing good. Here, too, you mistake me. I only objected to the infinite number of these institutions, which are placed solely under the direction of women, whose easiness of belief, and want of experience of the various disguises under which the vicious practise on the credulity of the charitable, render them incompetent to such a delicate task. I am satisfied that this almost indiscriminate charity causes far more misery than it alleviates; panders to vice and immorality, by taking from the labouring class the strongest inducement to industry and economy, - namely, the conviction that these alone would keep them from starving; by rendering it easier to get relief by begging than by work; and finally, by giving a sort of respectability to pauperism and

beggary, which destroys the salutary contempt we used to feel towards those now right-honourable and thriving professions. The moment you make beggary a tolerably respectable calling; the moment you relieve it from the tax which it pays to society, by being despised, that moment you create armies of lazzaroni, and convert the idle and the indolent, whom the sense of shame had hitherto deterred, into sturdy beggars. When I was last in your city, where there is a society for the relief of every thing, I was struck with the bold and confident air which pauperism had assumed, which I suppose partly arose from the unwonted respectability of the dress it had assumed. Formerly it was necessary for a beggar to be both ragged and dirty, and to exhibit the strongest symptoms of inability to work. But during the period of my visit, I was several times accosted by stout, hearty fellows, who, under pretence they could not get work, begged without a blush. The friend with whom I staid, complained to me that there was hardly a day in which he was not called on for charitable contributions, either to relieve somebody, or to convert the Hindoos, or Hottentots, by some of those good ladies I spoke of, who are such sturdy beggars, that there is no refusing them.

I hope by this time you begin to comprehend what I mean; to wit, that the distribution of public charities ought to be in the hands of public officers, acquainted with the world, and able to detect imposture of every kind. It will then be bestowed

with a wariness and circumspection, which, while it operates as far as is possible to the relief of virtuous distress, does not encourage and pamper idleness and debauchery. I can hardly believe these ladies— to whose desire to do good I give every due praise— do really benefit mankind, by taking from the pockets of the worthy, to bestow on the worthless. Farewell.

DEAR FRANK,

LETTER XXXIV.

THE "Old Ancients," as our friend W, the bank director, used to call them, pictured the god of riches as lolling in the lap of peace, and glittering in ornaments of gold. The modern Plutus is quite a different sort of personage, who, if he had his dues, and came forth in his appropriate livery, would look very much like a scarecrow in a corn-field, which is generally a man of straw, clothed in rags. This beggarly Plutus, instead of being nursed by peace, like his ancient namesake, is the offspring of war. By the exercise of a rare kind of magic, he converts the debts of an institution into a source of wealth, and is consequently rich in proportion to the number of his creditors, rather than of his debtors. This new system of getting rich under the patronage of the paper Plutus is a great improvement on the ancient one, since it is much easier for a man to get in debt to others than to get others in debt to him.

To illustrate this, I will simply give you the prominent features of the present fashionable banking Plutus, which has set so many splendid paupers on horseback, and caused all those, with few exceptions, who are not connected with the system, to walk on foot. A modern bank spins itself out of its own

bowels, as a spider does the web with which he catches the silly flies that buzz about. I will give you the history of one of these, which is nearly the history of all, and which I learned from an ex-director.

In a certain city, over which there did not reign a mighty monarch, but which was governed by an illustrious mayor, and twenty-four fat aldermen, which is a great city on paper, and, like the famous Terra Incognita, makes a terrible figure on the map, but is just as difficult to be found elsewhere as the said Terra Incognita-in this great city, certain tavernkeepers, stage-owners, and drivers of hackneycoaches, being in want of money, did incontinently gather themselves together, and make a bank. They first elected themselves directors, and after advertising that the capital stock of the bank, to wit, the paper not yet made, was all that they meant to appropriate to the payment of their debts, they fell to work, and made as many bank-notes as the president could possibly sign. With these notes they paid up their instalments, by borrowing of the bank to pay the bank. The plan succeeded so famously, that Messrs. Tom, Dick, Harry, tag, rag, bobtail, and the rest of them, got up banks in the same way, until at last money became so plenty, that it was actually the cheapest thing at market-which was a great blessing. Thus it continued, until this great city contained more than a dozen banks, which, in a little time, issued more paper than all the property in the place above and under ground could redeem. Every body could get as much money as they wanted; consequently