Pain and bitterness are the only goods it ever could procure for me.

I hate it.

It is a spectre walking before me through the world, and making every social pleasure hideous.' A thought arose in Pecksniff's mind, which must have instantly mounted to his face, or Martin Chuzzlewit would not have resumed as quickly and as sternly as he did: 'You would advise me for my peace of mind, to get rid of this source of misery, and transfer it to some one who could bear it better.

Even you, perhaps, would rid me of a burden under which I suffer so grievously.
But, kind stranger,' said the old man, whose every feature darkened as he spoke, 'good Christian stranger, that is a main part of my trouble.
In other hands, I have known money do good; in other hands I have known it triumphed in, and boasted of with reason, as the master-key to all the brazen gates that close upon the paths to worldly honour, fortune, and enjoyment.

To what man or woman; to what worthy, honest, incorruptible creature; shall I confide such a talisman, either now or when I die?
Do you know any such person?
YOUR virtues are of course inestimable, but can you tell me of any other living creature who will bear the test of contact with myself ?' 'Of contact with yourself, sir ?' echoed Mr Pecksniff.
'Aye,' returned the old man, 'the test of contact with me--with me.