nces. Sheridan also made very light of his debts, and had
many a good joke over them. Some one asked him how it was that the O'
was not prefixed to his name, when he replied that he was sure no family
had a better right to it, "for in truth, we _owe_ everybody." And when a
creditor once apologized for the soiled and tattered state of a bill,
which had been much worn by being so often presented, Sheridan advised
him "as a friend, to take it home and write it _upon parchment_."

Very different was it in the case of poor Burns, who was almost driven
distracted because he owed a debt of L7 4_s_. for a volunteer's uniform,
which he could not pay. He sent to his friend Thomson, the publisher of
his songs, imploring the loan of L5, promising full value in
"song-genius."[1] His last poem was a "love song," in part payment of
the loan, which he composed only a few days before his death.

[Footnote 1: "After all my boasted independence," he said, "curst
necessity compels me to implore you for five pounds. A cruel scoundrel
of a haberdasher, to whom I owe an account, taking it into his head that
I am dying, has commenced a process, and will infallibly put me in jail.
Do, for God's sake, send me that sum, and by return of post. Forgive me
this earnestness; but the horrors of a jail have made me half
distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously: for upon returning
health I promise and engage to furnish you with five pounds' worth of
the neatest song-genius you have seen."--_Burns to Thomson_. 12th July,
1796. Burns died on the 21st of the same month.]

Sydney Smith had a severe struggle with poverty in the early part of his
life. He had a poor living, a wide parish, and a large family. His
daughter says that his debts occasioned him many sleepless nights, and
that she has seen him in an evening, when bill after bill has poured in
(carefully examining them, and gradually paying them off), quite
overcome by the feeling of the debt hanging over him, cover his face
with his hands, and exclaim, "Ah! I see I shall end my old age in a
gaol."[1] But he bore up bravely under the burden, labouring onward with
a cheerful heart, eking out his slender means by writing articles for
the _Edinburgh_, until at length promotion reached him, and he reaped
the reward of his perseverance, his industry, and his independence.

[Footnote 1: LADY HOLLAND--_Memoir of the Rev. Sydney Smith_, vol. i, p.
206.]

De Foe's life was a long battle with difficu