ir debt, but found a
prodigious number of small sums of money paid by the debtors, as by
receipts in their books and on their files, some by himself, and some by
his man, which were never brought to account, or brought into cash; and
his man's answer being still, that he gave all to the master, they could
not tell how to charge him by the master's account, because several
sums, which the master himself received, were omitted being entered in
the same manner, so that all was confusion and neglect; and though the
man died rich, it was in spite of that management that would have made
any but himself have died poor.

Exact book-keeping is to me the effect of a man whose heart is in his
business, and who intends to thrive. He that cares not whether his books
are kept well or no, is in my opinion one that does not much care
whether he thrives or no; or else, being in desperate circumstances,
knows it, and that he cannot, or does not thrive, and so matters not
which way it goes.

It is true, the neglect of the books is private and secret, and is
seldom known to any body but the tradesman himself, at least till he
comes to break, and be a bankrupt, and then you frequently hear them
exclaim against him, upon that very account. 'Break!' says one of the
assignees; 'how should he but break?--why, he kept no books; you never
saw books kept in such a scandalous manner in your life; why, he has not
posted his cash-book, for I know not how many months; nor posted his
day-book and journal at all, except here and there an account that he
perhaps wanted to know the balance of; and as for balancing his cash, I
don't see any thing of that done, I know not how long. Why, this fellow
could never tell how he went on, or how things stood with him: I wonder
he did not break a long time ago.'

Now, the man's case was this: he knew how to keep his books well enough,
perhaps, and could write well enough; and if you look into his five or
six first years of trade, you find all his accounts well kept, the
journal duly posted, the cash monthly balanced; but the poor man found
after that, that things went wrong, that he went backwards, and that all
went down-hill, and he hated to look into his books. As a profligate
never looks into his conscience, because he can see nothing there but
what terrifies and affrights him, makes him uneasy and melancholy, so a
sinking tradesman cares not to look into his books, because the prospect
there is dark and melan