_If Time be of all Things the most precious, wasting Time must be, as Poor Richard_ says, _the_ _greatest Prodigality_; since, as he elsewhere tells us, _Lost Time is never found again; and what we call Time enough, always proves little enough_: Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the Purpose; so by Diligence shall we do more with less Perplexity. _Sloth makes all Things difficult, but Industry all easy_, as _Poor Richard_ says; and _He that riseth late must trot all Day, and shall scarce overtake his Business at Night; while Laziness travels so slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him_, as we read in _Poor Richard_, who adds, _Drive thy Business, let not that drive thee_; and _Early to Bed, and early to rise, makes a Man healthy, wealthy, and wise._ _Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon Hope will die fasting._ _There are no Gains without Pains._ _He that hath a Trade hath an Estate; and he that hath a Calling, hath an Office of Profit and Honor_; but then the _Trade_ must be worked at, and the _Calling_ well followed, or neither the _Estate_ nor the _Office_ will enable us to pay our Taxes. What though you have found no Treasure, nor has any rich Relation left you a Legacy, _Diligence is the Mother of Good-luck_, as _Poor Richard_ says, _and God gives all Things to Industry_. _One To-day is worth two To-morrows_, and farther, _Have you somewhat to do To-morrow, do it To-day_. If you were a Servant, would you not be ashamed that a good Master should catch you idle? Are you then your own Master, _be ashamed to catch yourself idle_. Stick to it steadily; and you will see great Effects, for _Constant Dropping wears away Stones_, and by _Diligence and Patience the Mouse ate in two the Cable_; and _Little Strokes fell great Oaks_. Methinks I hear some of you say, _Must a Man afford himself no Leisure_? I will tell thee, my friend, what _Poor Richard_ says, _Employ thy Time well, if thou meanest to gain Leisure; and, since thou art not sure of a Minute, throw not away an Hour_. Leisure, is Time for doing something useful; this Leisure the diligent Man will obtain, but the lazy Man never; so that, as _Poor Richard_ says, _A Life of Leisure and a Life of Laziness are two things_. _Keep thy Shop, and thy Shop will keep thee_; and again, _If you would have your business done, go; if not, send.

As an answer to his repeated attempts Don Andrés received a large sum of money from her with a letter compounded of all that is possible in bitterness and pride. Like all beautiful women who have been brought up amid continual tributes to her beauty she assumed without cynicism that it must necessarily be the basis of anyone's attachment to herself; henceforth any attention paid to her must spring from a pity full of condescension and faintly perfumed with satisfaction at so complete a reversal. This assumption that she need look for no more devotion now that her beauty had passed proceeded from the fact that she had never realized any love save love as passion. Such love, though it expends itself in generosity and thoughtfulness, though it give birth to visions and to great poetry, remains among the sharpest expressions of self-interest. Not until it has passed through a long servitude, through its own self-hatred, through mockery, through great doubts, can it take its place among the loyalties. Many who have spent a lifetime in it can tell us less of love than the child that lost a dog yesterday. As her friends continued in their efforts to draw her again into society she grew more and more angry and dispatched insulting messages to the city. It was said for a time that she was retiring into religion. But new rumours that all was fury and despair on the little farm, contradicted the old. For those near to her the despair was fearful to behold. She was convinced that her life was over, her life and children's. In her hysterical pride she had given back more than she owed and the approach of poverty was added to the loneliness and the gloom of her future. There was nothing left for her to do but to draw out her days in jealous solitude in the center of the little farm that was falling into decay. She brooded for hours upon the joy of her enemies and could be heard striding about her room with strange cries. Uncle Pio did not allow himself to be discouraged. By dint of making himself useful to the children, by taking a hand in the management of the farm and by discreetly lending her some money he obtained his entrance into the house and even into the presence of its veiled mistress.