Some of our greatest lawyers became moneyed men by habits of extreme economy in their young days. Lord Kenyon commenced his London career by lodging in Bell Yard, Carey Street, and paying for the accommodation six shillings a-week. His friends at this time were Dunning and Horne Tooke. They used generally to dine, in vacation time, at a small eating-house near Chancery Lane, where their meal was supplied to them at the charge of 7½_d._ a-head. Tooke, in giving an account of these repasts many years after, used to say, “Dunning and myself were generous, for we gave the girl who waited upon us a penny a-piece; but Kenyon, who knew the value of money, rewarded her with a halfpenny, and sometimes a promise.” In Addison’s club, as wittily described in the _Spectator_, the City merchant who has made his fortune figures in a very favourable light. “His notions of trade are,” we are told, “noble and generous; and as every rich man usually has some sly way of jesting, which would make no great figure were he not a rich man, he calls the sea the British common. He is acquainted with commerce in all its parts, and will tell you that it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion by arms, for that power is to be got by arts and industry. He will often argue, that if this part of our trade was well cultivated, we should gain from one nation; and if another, from another. I have heard him prove that diligence makes more lasting acquisitions than valour, and that sloth has ruined more nations than the sword. He abounds in several frugal maxims, among which the greatest favourite is, ‘A penny saved is a penny gained.’” Londoners must ever feel grateful to Addison for his genial sketch of Sir Andrew Freeport. Money-making men, even in their charities, have an eye to the main chance. In the “Greville Memoirs,” we read that Southey told an anecdote of Sir Massey Lopes, which is a good story of a miser. A man came to him and told him he was in great distress, and that £200 would save him. He gave him a draft for the money. “Now,” said he, “what will you do with this?” “Go to the bankers and get it cashed.” “Stop,” said he, “I will cash it.” So he gave him the money, but first calculated and deducted the discount—thus at once exercising his benevolence and his avarice.