we prefer to name it—and so we write great books, and paint grand pictures, and sing sweet songs; and toil with willing hands in study, loom, and laboratory.
We wish to become rich men, not in order to enjoy ease and comfort—all that any one man can taste of those may be purchased anywhere for two hundred pounds per annum—but that our houses may be bigger and more gaudily furnished than our neighbours'; that our horses and servants may be more numerous; that we may dress our wives and daughters in absurd, but expensive clothes; and that we may give costly dinners of which we ourselves individually do not eat a shilling's worth. And to do this, we aid the world's work with clear and busy brain, spreading commerce among its peoples, carrying civilisation to its remotest corners.
Do not let us abuse vanity, therefore. Rather let us use it. Honour itself is but the highest form of vanity. The instinct is not confined solely to Beau Brummels and Dolly Vardens. There is the vanity of the peacock, and the vanity of the eagle. Snobs are vain. But so, too, are heroes. Come, oh! my young brother bucks, let us be vain together. Let us join hands, and help each other to increase our vanity. Let us be vain, not of our trousers and hair, but of brave hearts and working hands, of truth, of purity, of nobility. Let us be too vain to stoop to aught that is mean or base, too vain for petty selfishness and
