rters of a million more to pay his
debts. "_In France_," says Sterne, "_they order these things better_."

I have now exposed the English system of finance to the eyes of all
nations; for this work will be published in all languages. In doing
this, I have done an act of justice to those numerous citizens of
neutral nations who have been imposed upon by that fraudulent system,
and who have property at stake upon the event.

As an individual citizen of America, and as far as an individual can
go, I have revenged (if I may use the expression without any immoral
meaning) the piratical depredations committed on the American commerce
by the English government. I have retaliated for France on the subject
of finance: and I conclude with retorting on Mr. Pitt the expression he
used against France, and say, that the English system of finance "is on
the verge, nay even in the

GULPH OF BANKRUPTCY."

Thomas Paine.

PARIS, 19th Germinal. 4th year of the Republic, April 8, 1796.

XXVII. FORGETFULNESS.(1)

1 This undated composition, of much biographical interest,
was shown by Paine to Henry Redhead Yorke, who visited him
in Paris (1802), and was allowed to copy the only portions
now preserved. In the last of Yorke's Letters from France
(Lond., 1814), thirty-three pages are given to Paine. Under
the name "Little Corner of the World," Lady Smyth wrote
cheering letters to Paine in his prison, and he replied to
his then unknown correspondent under the name of "The Castle
in die Air." After his release he discovered in his
correspondent a lady who had appealed to him for assistance,
no doubt for her husband. With Sir Robert (an English banker
in Paris) and Lady Smyth, Paine formed a fast friendship
which continued through life. Sir Robert was born in 1744,
and married (1776) a Miss Blake of Hanover Square, London.
He died in 1802 of illness brought on by his imprisonment
under Napoleon. Several of Paine's poems were addressed to
Lady Smyth.--_Editor._

FROM "THE CASTLE IN THE AIR," TO THE "LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD."

Memory, like a beauty that is always present to hear her-self
flattered, is flattered by every one. But the absent and silent goddess,
Forgetfulness, has no votaries, and is never thought of: yet we owe her
much. She is the goddess of ease, though not of pleasure.

When the mind is like a room hung with black, and every