illing service
of many an adroit sinner, and with what that coarse sack contains he can
purchase the prayers of holy men for all succeeding time. In this chest
is a castle in Spain, a real one, and not only in Spain, but anywhere
he will choose to have it. If he would know what is the liberality of
judgment of any of the straiter sects, he has only to hand over that box
of rouleaux to the trustees of one of its educational institutions for
the endowment of two or three professorships. If he would dream of being
remembered by coming generations, what monument so enduring as a college
building that shall bear his name, and even when its solid masonry shall
crumble give place to another still charged with the same sacred duty
of perpetuating his remembrance. Who was Sir Matthew Holworthy, that his
name is a household word on the lips of thousands of scholars, and will
be centuries hence, as that of Walter de Merton, dead six hundred years
ago, is to-day at Oxford? Who was Mistress Holden, that she should be
blessed among women by having her name spoken gratefully and the
little edifice she caused to be erected preserved as her monument from
generation to generation? All these possibilities, the lust of the eye,
the lust of the flesh, the pride of life; the tears of grateful orphans
by the gallon; the prayers of Westminster Assembly's Catechism divines
by the thousand; the masses of priests by the century;--all these
things, and more if more there be that the imagination of a lover of
gold is likely to range over, the miser hears and sees and feels and
hugs and enjoys as he paddles with his lean hands among the sliding,
shining, ringing, innocent-looking bits of yellow metal, toying with
them as the lion-tamer handles the great carnivorous monster, whose
might and whose terrors are child's play to the latent forces and power
of harm-doing of the glittering counters played with in the great game
between angels and devils.

I have seen a good deal of misers, and I think I understand them as
well as most persons do. But the Capitalist's economy in rags and his
liberality to the young doctor are very oddly contrasted with each
other. I should not be surprised at any time to hear that he had endowed
a scholarship or professorship or built a college dormitory, in spite of
his curious parsimony in old linen.

I do not know where our Young Astronomer got the notions that he
expresses so freely in the lines that follow. I think the