oak, that when they had done with it, it was not much larger than when he left it. Nor was this all. Parliament took the matter up; and though they would not set aside the will, they enacted that the power of devising property for the purpose of accumulation should be restricted to twenty-one years after the death of the testator. At the head of the money-making men, I suppose, are to be placed “Plum Turner” and “Vulture Hopkins.” The former, who was a Turkey merchant, died in 1793. When possessed of £300,000 he laid down his carriage because interest was reduced from five to four per cent. Vulture Hopkins, as Pope, in his satire, calls him, I fancy has been abused much more than he deserved. He was a wealthy merchant; the architect of his own fortune; and resided in Broad Street. That he was a very economical man there can be no doubt. We are told he paid an evening visit to Guy, the founder of the hospital in Southwark, and the story is too characteristic to be omitted. Guy lighted a farthing candle for the reception of his guest, who explained that he had come to learn from him the art of frugality. “And is that all you come about?” replied Guy. “Why, then, we can talk the matter over in the dark.” Another man of money was Sir John Cutler, a member of the Grocers’ Company, to whom the physicians had erected a statue in Warwick Lane, but from which they erased the subscription which adorned it when the executors claimed the cash which they considered given. Some of these men had pompous funerals. That of Sir John Cutler cost no less than £7,000. Cooke, the great sugar-baker, who died in 1811 at Pentonville, had a grand funeral; but the mob pelted the procession with cabbage-stalks. He, however, atoned in some degree for his avarice by leaving £10,000 to four charitable institutions. There is little virtue in being liberal with one’s money when one has no further need of it; but society gains, and such men as Guy, in spite of all their meanness, are public benefactors. At any rate, the study of the lives of these men is interesting. It is no great art, that of money-making; but it is natural that a City man should try to make money, and that he should be interested in the lives of those who have succeeded by their industry, or their luck, or their talent, in this respect. I find that in this, as in other matters, a man may be too clever by half, and that, as a rule, honesty is the best policy. “I have tried them both,” said the Yorkshireman to his sons on his death-bed. And the testimony of the Old Bailey is equally conclusive. Among the Jews, success in business was believed to be a blessing; but in our more critical age we can see that, to gain wealth, much of the charm of life has to be sacrificed, and that gold may be bought too dear. It is the opinion of most people that it is easier to make a fortune than to keep it.