I love good wine, but where shall I get it? Not at my wine merchant's
--he will poison me to a certainty. I wish to be universally respected;
how shall I compass my design? I must make friends, send messages, write
letters, come, go, wait, and be frequently deceived. Money is the
perpetual source of uneasiness; I fear it more than I love good wine.

A thousand times, both during and since my apprenticeship, have I gone
out to purchase some nicety, I approach the pastry-cook's, perceive some
women at the counter, and imagine they are laughing at me. I pass a
fruit shop, see some fine pears, their appearance tempts me; but then two
or three young people are near, or a man I am acquainted with is standing
at the door; I take all that pass for persons I have some knowledge of,
and my near sight contributes to deceive me. I am everywhere
intimidated, restrained by some obstacle, and with money in my pocket
return as I went, for want of resolution to purchase what I long for.

I should enter into the most insipid details was I to relate the trouble,
shame, repugnance, and inconvenience of all kinds which I have
experienced in parting with my money, whether in my own person, or by the
agency of others; as I proceed, the reader will get acquainted with my
disposition, and perceive all this without my troubling him with the
recital.

This once comprehended, one of my apparent contradictions will be easily
accounted for, and the most sordid avarice reconciled with the greatest
contempt of money. It is a movable which I consider of so little value,
that, when destitute of it, I never wish to acquire any; and when I have
a sum I keep it by me, for want of knowing how to dispose of it to my
satisfaction; but let an agreeable and convenient opportunity present
itself, and I empty my purse with the utmost freedom; not that I would
have the reader imagine I am extravagant from a motive of ostentation,
quite the reverse; it was ever in subservience to my pleasures, and,
instead of glorying in expense, I endeavor to conceal it. I so well
perceive that money is not made to answer my purposes, that I am almost
ashamed to have any, and, still more, to make use of it.

Had I ever possessed a moderate independence, I am convinced I should
have had no propensity to become avaricious. I should have required no
more, and cheerfully lived up to my income; but my precarious situation
has constantly and necessarily kept me in fear. I lo