ootnote 7: See this Introduction.]

[Footnote 8: _The Cambridge History of American Literature_, Vol. II,
p. 385.]

[Footnote 9: Fred Lewis Pattee, in The Cambridge History of American
Literature, Vol. II, p. 394.]

* * * * *

To: CHARLES GOODRICH WHITING, Critic, Poet, Friend

* * * * *

THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN AND HIS WATER LOTS

BY GEORGE POPE MORRIS (1802-1864)

[From _The Little Frenchman and His Water Lots, with Other Sketches of
the Times_ (1839), by George Pope Morris.]

Look into those they call unfortunate,
And, closer view'd, you'll find they are unwise.--_Young._

Let wealth come in by comely thrift,
And not by any foolish shift:
'Tis haste
Makes waste:
Who gripes too hard the dry and slippery sand
Holds none at all, or little, in his hand.--_Herrick_.

Let well alone.--_Proverb_.

How much real comfort every one might enjoy if he would be contented
with the lot in which heaven has cast him, and how much trouble would
be avoided if people would only "let well alone." A moderate
independence, quietly and honestly procured, is certainly every way
preferable even to immense possessions achieved by the wear and tear
of mind and body so necessary to procure them. Yet there are very few
individuals, let them be doing ever so well in the world, who are not
always straining every nerve to do better; and this is one of the many
causes why failures in business so frequently occur among us. The
present generation seem unwilling to "realize" by slow and sure
degrees; but choose rather to set their whole hopes upon a single
cast, which either makes or mars them forever!

Gentle reader, do you remember Monsieur Poopoo? He used to keep a
small toy-store in Chatham, near the corner of Pearl Street. You must
recollect him, of course. He lived there for many years, and was one
of the most polite and accommodating of shopkeepers. When a juvenile,
you have bought tops and marbles of him a thousand times. To be sure
you have; and seen his vinegar-visage lighted up with a smile as you
flung him the coppers; and you have laughed at his little straight
queue and his dimity breeches, and all the other oddities that made up
the every-day apparel of my little Frenchman. Ah, I perceive you
recollect him now.

Well, then, there lived Monsieur Poopoo ever since he came from "dear,
delightful Paris," as he was