The conversation turned upon this topic, for some time. The old man, contrary to the usual spirit of aged people, was desirous that Pleasure should succeed to the throne. As for myself, I maintained that the nation would be less happy, under such a sway. After our soup, he wanted to carry me to see the fireworks, and the ball the governor gave upon the occasion. I refused to go; these things seeming to me very ridiculous, on account of the cause that elicited them. The old man was much offended at my refusal; he told me that I was a sour, dissatisfied man, and an enemy to the general joy. I replied, that he was an old fool, and that if he molested me any more, I would throw him out of the window, and put his family to the sword. At this moment we heard the cry of fire in the house; and the common danger caused us to forego our quarrel. The uproar was caused by a servant girl, who, because her mistress refused, from some cause or other, to pay her wages, had set fire to the house, from motives of revenge. They pretended to extinguish it in a very curious manner, which was, by throwing on light stuffs, soaked in oil. I dreamt that a great sheet of flame suddenly enveloped me: I awoke on the instant, crying that I was in a house environed: and thinking the noise I heard came from the flame,—I cried, “_fire_!” A servant that was seeking me in the garden, ran, upon hearing me, and told me that some one waited to see me. When I had finished my business with this person, my dream caused me much reflection; the more I thought upon it, the closer seemed the resemblance to what is taking place in the world: in fact, it is _Self-love_ that reigns, and these are the passions that govern us; and whoever could see the heart and soul of men, would find them arrant hypocrites. The world itself is the city of Hypocrisy. It is in this city, that interest, ambition, pleasure, vengeance, anger, and all other evil passions conceal themselves. The more I examine, the more clearly these truths appear:—That whosoever could disabuse himself for a single moment, would be so, for the remainder of his life: and he who really desires to know himself and the world, would learn from observation, more than he has an idea of. The world is, of all things, the most difficult to understand, and that which one ought to know the best. There is no person who distrusts himself; consequently, there is no one who realizes, that it is deceptive, filled with self-love, attached to its own interests, seeking its own gratifications, vain, unquiet, restless, presumptuous, vindictive, pure outwardly, criminal within, lovely and fair in appearance—deserving, at bottom, of hatred and contempt: and what is still more incomprehensible about this same world, is, there is hardly an individual who doth not love it; they lose by this love, and they know of a surety, that it is to this attachment they must attribute their losses: