Portland Gazette, And Maine Advertiser

MISCELLANY.

FORTUNE, thou capricious whimsical goddess, when wilt thou have done playing with my credulity? True it is I never had the pleasure of a very intimate acquaintance with thee, but thou hast often condescended to give me a distant glance of thy fair form, and as often eluded a nearer acquaintance. But what is wealth? Is it not a bubble that appears only to disappear? Not always the wealthy man, it is the only good I know, the only object I pursue-it covers all my faults-without it I might walk the streets and not be regarded by the gaping multitudes.

Oh, Fortune! Thou more than friend, thou art to me my summum bonum; as I pass the streets the obedient hat rises to welcome my approach, the hand is stretched out to receive me, the doors of the wealthy fly open to my approach, and all nature smiles around; but for thee, my wealth, I might pass unnoticed and unknown; the world-might call me fool, knave, or rascal, but thou art a cloak that screens me from all these epithets; nay more, thou makest of me a clever fellow though nature never intended I should be.