f clouded splendour,
of finery which is useless till it is shown, and which he dares not
show.

In our time, the poor are strongly tempted to assume the appearance of
wealth, but the wealthy very rarely desire to be thought poor; for we
are all at full liberty to display riches by every mode of ostentation.
We fill our houses with useless ornaments, only to show that we can buy
them; we cover our coaches with gold, and employ artists in the
discovery of new fashions of expense; and yet it cannot be found that
riches produce happiness.

Of riches, as of every thing else, the hope is more than the enjoyment:
while we consider them as the means to be used, at some future time, for
the attainment of felicity, we press on our pursuit ardently and
vigorously, and that ardour secures us from weariness of ourselves; but
no sooner do we sit down to enjoy our acquisitions, than we find them
insufficient to fill up the vacuities of life.

One cause which is not always observed of the insufficiency of riches
is, that they very seldom make their owner rich. To be rich, is to have
more than is desired, and more than is wanted, to have something which
may be spent without reluctance, and scattered without care, with which
the sudden demands of desire may be gratified, the casual freaks of
fancy indulged, or the unexpected opportunities of benevolence improved.

Avarice is always poor, but poor by her own fault. There is another
poverty to which the rich are exposed with less guilt by the
officiousness of others. Every man, eminent for exuberance of fortune,
is surrounded from morning to evening, and from evening to midnight, by
flatterers, whose art of adulation consists in exciting artificial
wants, and in forming new schemes of profusion.

Tom Tranquil, when he came to age, found himself in possession of a
fortune, of which the twentieth part might perhaps have made him rich.
His temper is easy, and his affections soft; he receives every man with
kindness, and hears him with credulity. His friends took care to settle
him by giving him a wife, whom, having no particular inclination, he
rather accepted than chose, because he was told that she was proper for
him.

He was now to live with dignity proportionate to his fortune. What his
fortune requires or admits Tom does not know, for he has little skill in
computation, and none of his friends think it their interest to improve
it. If he was suffered to live by his own choice, he