A _Miser_ Burying his Gold.
A _Certain Covetous, Rich Churl_ Sold his Whole Estate, and put it into
Mony, and then Melted down That Mony again into One Mass, which he Bury’d
in the ground, with his very Heart and Soul in the Pot for Company. He
gave it a Visit Every Morning, which it seems was taken Notice of, and
Somebody that Observ’d him, found out his Hoard one Night, and Carry’d
it away. The Next day he missed it, and ran almost out of his Wits for
the Loss of his Gold. Well, (says a Neighbour to him) And what’s All
This Rage for? Why you had no Gold at all, and so you Lost None. You did
but Fancy all this while that you Had it, and you may e’en as well Fancy
again that you have it still. ’Tis but laying a Stone where you laid your
Mony, and Fancying That Stone to be your Treasure, and there’s your Gold
again. You did not Use it when you Had it; and you do not Want it so long
as you Resolve not to Use it.
The MORAL.
_Better no Estate at all, then the Cares and Vexations that attend the
Possession of it, without the Use on’t._