would hold back what he had bought, with a view of forestalling their next market.
I give this as one among a variety of instances in which he saw further into people's affairs than they did themselves. By this means he had resources for them which they never dreamt of, and of course was able to stipulate for better terms for himself.
In the mean time it was, one would think, this man's pride never to have a shilling he could call his own. Nothing was expensive enough for him, and when it was his turn to treat at Bachelor's-hall,—a place at Madeira built by the unmarried men, and remarkable for hospitality—it was in a style that astonished every body: for his taste was equal to his ingenuity.
At length Madeira became too barren a spot for the fecundity of his genius. He left it after giving

it many real advantages, and was universally regretted, as a man wonderfully calculated for business, and yet a most agreeable companion.
He got a considerable sum for his concern in the house he left, which he took care, in a few months, to get rid of in England.
The reader remembers that this gentleman brought letters from his connections in Madeira to Sir Sidney. These were of course greatly in his favour. Indeed the baronet was very well disposed to shew him any kindness; but it was among the maxims of Mr. Gloss never to make use of a friend except to carry a material point, and a man must be very shallow indeed if he could not pretty well guess beforehand whether that point could be carried.
The plan upon which this young gentleman proceeded was very simple, but it required consummate talents. It was nothing more than to administer to every man's foibles, and reprobate his vices. It is imppossible to describe how a man is infallibly taken hold of by a conduct of this kind. Very few are uniformly good, or uniformly wicked; therefore, all who are not have both follies and vices mixed with some good qualities, Our follies are always agreeable

to us, but though all vices are the consequence of them, we detest the vice itself, while we hug the folly that may have caused it. Close however as we may take folly to our hearts, we never fail to be privately ashamed of ourselves for it, nor to attribute, in the face of the world, our actions to any thing else rather than this hidden cause. What power then must that man have over you, who, by encouraging you in your foibles, not only has discovered