Those high and lofty notions of morals which you brought with you from the schools must be considerably lowered, and mixed with the baser alloy of a jealous and worldly-minded prudence.  You must learn to do hard if not unjust things; and for the nice embarrassments of a delicate and ingenuous spirit, it is necessary for you to get rid of them as fast as possible.  You must shut your heart against the Muses, and be content to feed your understanding with plain, household truths.  In short, you must not attempt to enlarge your ideas, or polish your taste, or refine your sentiments; but must keep on in one beaten track, without turning aside either to the right hand or to the left.  “But I cannot submit to drudgery like this:  I feel a spirit above it.”  ’Tis well:  be above it then; only do not repine that you are not rich.

Is knowledge the pearl of price?  That too may be purchased—­by steady application, and long solitary hours of study and reflection.  Bestow these, and you shall be wise.  “But” (says the man of letters) “what a hardship is it that many an illiterate fellow who cannot construe the motto of the arms on his coach, shall raise a fortune and make a figure, while I have little more than the common conveniences of life.” Et tibi magni satis!—­Was it in order to raise a fortune that you consumed the sprightly hours of youth in study and retirement?  Was it to be rich that you grew pale over the midnight lamp, and distilled the sweetness from the Greek and Roman spring?  You have then mistaken your path, and ill employed your industry.  “What reward have I then for all my labors?” What reward!  A large, comprehensive soul, well purged from vulgar fears and perturbations and prejudices; able to comprehend and interpret the works of man—­of God.  A rich, flourishing, cultivated mind, pregnant with inexhaustible stores of entertainment and reflection.  A perpetual spring of fresh ideas; and the conscious dignity of superior intelligence.  Good heaven! and what reward can you ask besides?

“But is it not some reproach upon the economy of Providence that such a one, who is a mean, dirty fellow, should have amassed wealth enough to buy half a nation?” Not in the least.  He made himself a mean, dirty fellow for that very end.  He has paid his health, his conscience, his liberty, for it; and will you envy him his bargain?  Will you hang your head and blush in his presence because he outshines you in equipage and show?  Lift up your brow with a noble confidence, and say to yourself, I have not these things, it is true; but it is because I have not sought, because I have not desired them; it is because I possess something better.  I have chosen my lot.  I am content and satisfied.

You are a modest man—­you love quiet and independence, and have a delicacy and reserve in your temper which renders it impossible for you to elbow your way in the world, and be the herald of your own merits.  Be content then with a modest retirement, with the esteem of your intimate friends, with the praises of a blameless heart, and a delicate, ingenuous spirit; but resign the splendid distinctions of the world to those who can better scramble for them.