wealth of the
world, after the whole of which his heart really panted, as to appear
at times actually insignificant. Thus, as he grew older, he set a value
upon what he had, as the means of gaining more, and in his parting with
money, did so at the expense of a daily increasing reluctance.

In the beginning of life, Mr. Bolton possessed a few generous feelings,
the remains of early and innocent states stored up in childhood. His
mother, a true woman, perceiving the strong selfish and accumulative
bent of his character, had sought in every possible way to implant in
his mind feelings of benevolence and regard for others. One mode of
doing this had been to introduce him into scenes that appealed to his
sympathies. She often took him with her to see poor or sick persons,
and so interested him in them as to create a desire in his mind to
afford relief. So soon as she perceived this desire awakened, she
devised some mode of bringing it into activity, so that he might feel
the delights which spring from a consciousness of having done good to
another.

But so strong was the lad's hereditary love of self, that she ever
found difficulty in inducing him to sacrifice what he already
considered his own, in the effort to procure blessings for others, no
matter how greatly they stood in need. If urged to spend a sixpence of
his own for such a purpose, he would generally reply:

"But you've got a great many more sixpences than I have, mother: why
don't you spend them?"

To this, Mrs. Bolton would answer as appropriately as possible; but she
found but poor success in her efforts, which were never relaxed.

In early manhood, as Mr. Bolton began to come in actual contact with
the world, the remains of early states of innocence and sympathy with
others came back, as we have intimated, upon him, and he acted, in many
instances, with a generous disregard of self. But as he bent his mind
more and more earnestly to the accumulation of money, these feelings
had less and less influence over him. And as dollar after dollar was
added to his store, his interest in the welfare of others grew less and
less active. Early friendships were gradually forgotten, and the first
natural desire to see early friends prosperous like himself, gradually
died out. "Every man for himself," became the leading principle of his
life; and he acted upon it on all occasions. In taking a pew in church
and regularly attending worship every Sabbath, he was governed b