Some of the purchasers, I thought, made very foolish bargains.
For instance, a young man having inherited a splendid fortune, laid
out a considerable portion of it in the purchase of diseases, and
finally spent all the rest for a heavy lot of repentance and a suit of
rags. A very pretty girl bartered a heart as clear as crystal, and
which seemed her most valuable possession, for another jewel of the
same kind, but so worn and defaced as to be utterly worthless. In
one shop, there were a great many crowns of laurel and myrtle, which
soldiers, authors, statesmen, and various other people, pressed
eagerly to buy; some purchased these paltry wreaths with their
lives; others by a toilsome servitude of years; and many sacrificed
whatever was most valuable, yet finally slunk away without the
crown. There was a sort of stock or scrip, called Conscience, which
seemed to be in great demand, and would purchase almost anything.
Indeed, few rich commodities were to be obtained without paying a
heavy sum in this particular stock, and a man's business was seldom
very lucrative, unless he knew precisely when and how to throw his
hoard of Conscience into the market. Yet as this stock was the only
thing of permanent value, whoever parted with it was sure to find
himself a loser, in the long run.
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