Subterfuge, lying, and loss of liberty, are not all the miseries of a
conscious debtor: in the world he resembles a prisoner at large; he
walks many circuitous miles to avoid being dunned, and would sooner meet
a mad dog than an angry creditor. He lives in a sort of _abeyance_,
and sinks under shame when caught enjoying an undue luxury. In short, he
is cramped in all his enjoyments, and considers his fellow, out of debt,
as great as the emperor of the celestial empire, after whose repast
other kings may dine. Hence ensue repining and envy: he fancies himself
slighted by the world, and, in return, he cares not for the opinion of
the world; his energies waste, and he falls.
These sufferings, however, appertain but to one class of debtors. There
are others who scorn such compunctious visitations, and set all laws of
conscience at defiance. They press into their service all the aids of
cunning, and travel on byroads of the world till they are bronzed enough
for its highway. Their memories are like mirrors, and their debts like
breathings on them, which vanish the same moment they are produced. They
look on mankind as a large family, and the world as a large storehouse,
or open house, where they have a claim proportioned to their wants. They
clear their consciences by maintaining, that what is parted with is not
lost, and foster their hopes with the idea of its reversion.
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