_Order 7th._ The _Philo-Mammonites_, or _Money Lovers_.--Although this term would comprehend a most numerous and motley host, if the mere existence of the passion itself were deemed a sufficient distinction, yet I mean to apply the designation only to such abortions of our race as love money for _itself alone_, independently as it would seem, both of its real and adventitiously exchangeable value. Others burn with affection for the beloved article, only as a means to attain the ends which they most passionately desire. These ends are as countless as the sands; some, for example, make it the grand object of their temporal existence to buy fine clothes, others fine equipages; others again fine houses, fine furniture, fine pictures, fine books--in short, _fine any thing_ which the world calls so, whatever they themselves may think of it; for, as Dr. Franklin most truly says, "_other peoples' eyes cost us more than our own_." The exclusive money-lovers despise what others love; with "the fleshly lusts that war against the souls" of other men, and _cost money_, they have nothing to do--no, not they! and even the common necessaries and comforts of life are all rejected for the sake of making, hoarding, and contemplating the dear--all-absorbing object of the only affection they are capable of feeling. In this respect, the money lover differs entirely, not only from all other human beings, but from every race of brutes, reptiles, and insects yet discovered. _They_, for instance, accumulate the food which they love, evidently for _use_, and not solely to look at, to gloat upon, as the ultimate, the exclusive source of gratification. _Their accumulation_, therefore, is but the means of attaining the end--_consumption_, from which all their real enjoyment seems to be anticipated. The propensity to collect for future use, which is called instinct in the latter, is identical with what is deemed the love of money, as it operates upon all the orders of mankind, except the _Philo Mammonites_. With the former, it is not the money they love, but something for which they have a passionate regard, that they know their money can procure: with the latter, the sole enjoyment (if indeed they may be thought capable of any) seems to consist in the mere looking at their hoards, and in the consciousness of being able to exclaim--"all this is _mine_, nothing but the inexorable tyrant death can take it away. Let others call it pleasure and happiness to spend money, if they are fools enough to do so; we deem it the only pleasure and happiness to make and keep it." To such men, the common feelings of humanity--the ordinary ties that bind together families and communities, are things utterly incomprehensible; and consequently neither the sufferings of their fellow men, nor their utmost miseries are ever permitted, for one moment, to interfere with that darling object which occupies their souls, to the exclusion of all others.