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diff --git a/old/68481-0.txt b/old/68481-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 230208a..0000000 --- a/old/68481-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5774 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Young Grandison, volume I (of 2), by -Madame de Cambon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Young Grandison, volume I (of 2) - A series of letters from young persons to their friends - -Author: Madame de Cambon - -Translator: Mary Wollstonecraft - -Release Date: July 8, 2022 [eBook #68481] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from - images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG GRANDISON, VOLUME I (OF -2) *** - - - - - - YOUNG GRANDISON. - A SERIES OF - LETTERS - FROM - YOUNG PERSONS - TO THEIR - FRIENDS. - - - TRANSLATED FROM THE DUTCH OF - - MADAME DE CAMBON. - - WITH - - ALTERATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS. - - - IN TWO VOLUMES. - - - VOL. I. - - - LONDON: - PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, N^O 72, ST. PAUL’S CHURCH-YARD. - - M DCC XC. - - - - - ADVERTISEMENT. - - -This work is translated from a more voluminous one in Dutch, written by -Madame de Cambon, professedly for the instruction of young people. - -The author has judiciously interspersed little introductory hints -relative to natural philosophy; which, while they tend to awaken -curiosity, lead to reflections calculated to expand the heart. - -Indeed any instruction which has not evidently this tendency, will be -found not only useless but pernicious; if it be allowed that a -smattering of knowledge can never compensate for narrowing the heart by -introducing vanity. And as it is much easier to dissipate ignorance than -root out that degree of selfishness, which an endeavour to supplant -others generally inspires, emulation should very cautiously be excited. -On this account deviations, from the original were unavoidable; besides -the editor apprehended that affectation rather than virtue may be -produced by endeavouring, through a mistaken zeal, to bring the mind -forward prematurely, as in all probability it will seldom afterwards -reach that degree of strength which it might have acquired by gradual -improvement. In short, the whole has been abridged, and _material_ -alterations made, to render it more extensively useful; some sentiments -and incidents are thrown out, and others added, which were naturally -suggested by the subjects: it would be needless to point out the -alterations that have been made; they were, in the editor’s opinion, -necessary. Productions intended for the instruction of youth, without -aiming at the graces of higher compositions, should be as free from -errors as possible; but above all, no narrow prejudices should be -retained to cramp the understanding, or make it submit to any other -authority than that of reason. - - - - - YOUNG GRANDISON. - - - - - LETTER I. - WILLIAM D—— _to his_ MOTHER: - - -You desired me to write to you, my dear mother. What a comfort it is to -be able to converse with you in this way, now I am at such a distance, -and cannot see you! - -I did not find the journey fatiguing; I was not sea-sick—but I was -sorrowful—very sorrowful, I assure you. You will say that I am childish, -when I tell you, that, during the voyage, as often as I thought of the -last kiss you gave me, I could scarcely restrain my tears, or mention -your name without sobbing. I hid myself in a corner of the cabin, that I -might weep freely without being seen: I was not ashamed of it; yet as -the captain endeavoured to amuse me, I did not wish him to know that I -was so very unhappy. Besides, my dear mother, my tears will not flow -when any one looks at me;—but I will have done. I know you love me, and -I would not willingly grieve you. My heart is lighter. - -What a great city this is! and how full the streets are of people! The -large towns in Holland are nothing to it. Every thing pleases me; but I -find not here my dear mother: I cannot run hastily home to tell her all -I have seen, and I do not half enjoy the fine sights. - -You praised Lady Grandison; indeed she is so good-natured every one must -love her, as soon as they see her face. How she pressed me in her arms -when I arrived—just as you do, when you are pleased with me. And Sir -Charles Grandison, oh! I cannot tell you what a worthy man he seems to -be: he is so tender-hearted. My father was like him, I dare say; yes, he -certainly was, for you have often told me that he was a good man. Ah! -had I yet that father, how happy should I be: I would love and obey him, -as young Charles obeys his father; and I should not love you less. God, -you have frequently said, is now in a peculiar manner my father. I pray -every night to him, with more earnestness than ever, to bless my mother, -my only parent, and to enable me to be a comfort to her. Now farewel, my -dear mother, think often of me, and love your own - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER II. - _Mrs._ D—— _to_ WILLIAM. - - -Your letter afforded me the most solid satisfaction, my dear son; while -I felt for you, the sorrow, you so well described, drew you still closer -to my heart. Your warm manner of expressing your filial affection -pleased me, as it convinced me, that you have a feeling heart. A son who -could leave an indulgent mother, without experiencing similar emotions, -will never love God, or do good to his fellow-creatures; he will live -for himself alone, and gradually lose the dignity of his nature. But dry -up your tears; immoderate sorrow is a sign of weakness, and will prevent -your improvement, the principal end of life. We must arm ourselves with -courage to ward off the casualties that in this uncertain state we are -exposed to; the happiest situations are not exempt from them; heaven -sends pain and sorrow to teach us virtue, and not merely to afflict us. -When you lament that we are separated, think with what pleasure we shall -meet again; and how eagerly my eyes will run over your whole person, and -my ears be on the catch to weigh your words: that I may trace your -improvement, and love you still more.—And this love would be a comfort -to my age, I should not consider myself a widow.—Yes, your father was -virtuous; resemble him; and console, in some degree, your mother, by -cultivating the virtues which just begin to dawn in your mind. - -We shall write to each other often; to write is the same as to speak. -You are now rewarded for the diligent attention you paid to my commands, -though at first it was an irksome task to learn to write; but had you -neglected it, we could not have converted when a vast sea, or large -tracts of land were between us—then, indeed, I should have been absent -in the true sense of the word. Now I can participate in all your -pleasures: be very particular in your account of them; and remember to -write as you speak. A letter ought to be simple and natural; regulate -your thoughts, and let your expressions appear easy and not studied. -Above all, strictly adhere to truth; you violate it, when you use -unmeaning compliments, or permit affectionate words to drop from your -pen, which are fabricated by the head for selfish purposes, and do not -flow from a good heart. Take care always of your spelling: it is a -shameful thing for any one to be ignorant of his native language. - -Present my best respects to Lady Grandison. - - - - - LETTER III. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -A thousand thanks do I wish to send you, my dear mother, for your -letter; I feel myself of some consequence now you correspond with me. -Was I wrong, when I was proud of your praises? I wished Lady Grandison -to know that I had been an obedient son, and I gave her your letter to -read. What an excellent mother you have, William, said she! you must -obey all her commands, and console her by acquiring virtue. You must try -to amuse her by communicating your sentiments; and do not forget to tell -her of all your amusements, your business, and even the conversations -which you listen to in this family: and this attention will in some -degree make her happy. But, Madam, said I, my mother has often forbid me -to mention any conversations I heard, when I went with her to pay a -visit. William, she replied, you must learn to make distinctions; -conversations are not to be repeated; but you may confide every -observation you make in the bosom of a friend, except indeed the secrets -you have promised to keep, they are sacred. A young person ought never -to promise to keep any secrets from an indulgent parent, till their -reason enables them to govern themselves, and they are no longer -children. - -Oh! how glad I was, for you know, dear mother, that I am now fond of -writing. How much I shall have to tell you of young Charles; yes, it is -of him, that I mean to speak the most. You cannot think how much sense -he has, and how good he is; indeed I do love him. We are almost always -together, for his cousin Edward, though he is two years older, has not -half his sense and goodness. But Lady Grandison told me yesterday, his -education had been neglected, so I pity him; yet cannot love him as I -love Charles and Emilia. - - - - - LETTER IV. - _Mrs._ D—— _to_ WILLIAM. - - -I wish you happy, my son, and rejoice that you have chosen such a friend -as Charles. Yet, while you admire your friend, do not hate Edward; -remark his faults only to avoid them. He is really an object that should -excite your compassion, while you thank God for having placed you in a -different situation. You had the advantage of receiving early -instruction, and was not allowed to contract any bad habits. Sir Charles -paid the same diligent attention to cultivate your new friend’s mind, -and Dr. Bartlett assisted: but poor Edward was suffered to run almost -wild. - -You have seen in the little garden I have, that weeds grow quickly; and -would soon choke the vegetables and flowers, if a careful hand did not -pluck them up by the roots. - -Lady Grandison praises you; do your best to deserve her approbation, and -you shall ever be the beloved of my heart. - - - - - LETTER V. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -I enjoy here much pleasure; we walk, we draw, we learn music; and we -sometimes go to the Play. But what pleases me most, is a microscope, my -friend has. We see in it the most wonderful things; every body ought to -have microscopes to know rightly what there is in the world. We view the -flies, the spiders, &c. I shall speak to you often of them, I shall -communicate our conversations word for word. Dr. Bartlett, who is with -us every day, teaches us many wonderful things. Yes, Mama, your son -shall be well furnished with knowledge; but I must leave off writing, -for I am called. Go then away, letter, and tell my dear mother how much -I love her; and assure her that I shall be always her dutiful son. - - - - - LETTER VI. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -To-morrow we go to the country-seat—what pleasure I shall have there! -Charles has packed up a great many books to take with him; for we are -both fond of reading. Our drawings and our pencils are not forgotten. -Charles has drawn some landscapes from nature; and I will try to do a -view of the house, and send it to you. I enclose you one of the town -habitation. You must observe two windows on the left side of the house, -I will mark them, your William sleeps in that room, pray look at it. - -We are all glad to go to the country-seat, except Edward, he is -displeased. I have been present at a conversation, which interested me. -I will repeat it. - -Do you know, said Emilia, that our dear Dr. Bartlett goes with us into -the country? Yes, answered Charles, and I am glad of it. So am not I, -grumbled Edward. And why? Because he is always reproving me. The -reproofs of so wise a man as Dr. Bartlett are very useful, and then he -speaks in such a mild voice, the very tone encourages me to hope that I -may correct the faults he reproves: I am sorry but not hurt, said -Charles. I thought at least I should be free for some time from learning -that miserable Latin, continued Edward; but, no, we must write a theme -every day, I suppose. I hope so, said Charles, and that will not be -tiresome. But, Edward, have you nothing to pack up? I shall let the -servants do that, answered he. The servants will have enough to do, said -Emilia. Then they may go an hour later to bed. Poor servants, replied -Emilia, they are tired and want sleep; besides, they must rise very -early in the morning; you could spare them some trouble, and that would -be a better employment than tormenting your dog. But he is my dog, -snarled Edward. Yes, said Emilia, but the servants are not your servants -nor mine. I need not your lessons, Madam.—Charles interrupted him, and -took them both by the hand, and, turning to Edward, said, we have been -taught from our infancy to think attendance a proof of weakness; and -that we ought not to give the meanest of our fellow-creatures trouble -when we can avoid it, if we desire to be truly great. Give me the -business of the servant and you will oblige me. - -Farewel, my dear mother, I will write as soon as I arrive at the -country-seat. - - - - - LETTER VII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Here we are at the country-seat, dear mother. What a fine house! what a -pretty garden! There are a number of trees I never saw before. - -Charles has a little garden, which he manages entirely himself. He -plants and sows seeds according to his own mind. As soon as we were -rested, he ran to his garden, and what do you think he did? he is -certainly a good boy, he gave half a guinea to the gardener, who had -taken care of it in his absence. The man receives constant wages from -his father; but he has six children, and Charles is compassionate. -Surely it was well done; yet Edward found fault. I will tell you all; -oh! I recollect something; Lady Grandison bid me write our conventions -in the manner of a dialogue, and not always to be using the phrase, _he -said_ and _she said_. Edward saw the gardener receive the half guinea, -and he ran to Charles. - - EDWARD. - -Are you foolish, Charles, that you give so much money to that man? My -uncle pays him very well for his work. - - CHARLES. - -That is true; but see how neat my garden is, it deserves a reward. -Besides, he is a poor man, who has many children; and I used to climb up -his knees when I was a child. - - EDWARD. - -Very well; but I say again, he has more than what belongs to him. Dare -you tell my uncle what you have done? - - CHARLES. - -Yes, certainly. I hope never to do any thing that I should be afraid to -mention to him. He sometimes gives the gardener money himself. - - EDWARD. - -My uncle gives his own money, and what you gave is not your own. - - CHARLES. - -I beg your pardon; what I have given to the gardener was my own; I -received it a few days before I left London as a reward; and could I -make a better use of it? I did double business that I might have some -money to give away. - - EDWARD. - -And could you not have bought something with it; such as fire-works? -They would have afforded rare sport in the country. - - CHARLES. - -Fire-works, and for what? Fire-works are but for a moment; while the -shoes the poor man will buy for his children, will keep them out of the -wet a month or two. - -EDWARD, (_laughing_.) - -And what good will it do you, if their feet are dry? - - CHARLES. - -If I do them good, it is enough; I feel pleasure in assisting the poor, -and particularly that good-natured man who was so kind to me when I was -a helpless babe. - - -Edward said no more; he ran away from us to torment a cat, which he had -seen lie sleeping on the grass. - -What do you think of all this? I, for my part, was ashamed of Edward, -and love Charles more than ever. When I am rich, should I ever be so, I -will give to the poor; it is such a pleasure to make glad a person in -distress. - - - - - LETTER VIII. - _Mrs._ D—— _to_ WILLIAM. - - -Your last letter gave me inexpressible pleasure, my son. I am pleased -with you for loving Charles, for loving his virtues; but you must do -more, let your affection have an influence on your conduct, and -endeavour to copy the good qualities you approve. - -The pleasure that was painted on the gardener’s countenance found its -way quickly to the heart of Charles, and made it glad; and this pleasure -will be continually renewed, when he meets the smiling infants with the -shoes on he gave them. The momentary amusement that the fire-works would -have afforded, is not to be compared to this heart-felt satisfaction. -The only way to deserve affluence, and indeed the only true pleasure it -procures, is the enlarged power of doing good. - -Lady Grandison has sent me another of your drawings. I am glad to see -you so much improved: go forward in this manner, dear William; should -you be deprived of your small fortune, painting would be a respectable -way of earning an independance. At any rate it will be an innocent -source of amusement which will keep you out of idleness and bad company. -Yes, idleness leads to every vice; the exercise of the fine arts is a -good preservative of youth. Take your pleasure, my son, fulfil your -duty, and write often to your affectionate mother. - - - - - LETTER IX. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Ah, Mama! a great misfortune has happened here. Edward has fallen into -the water, he is very ill. Lady Grandison is indisposed, and we are much -afflicted. If he had not got help quickly, he would certainly have been -drowned. - -It was yesterday afternoon; he had not wrote his theme, and his uncle -ordered him to stay in his room to make it. He is always disobedient; he -was never taught to obey when he was not in the presence of those who -had a right to command him. He went down notwithstanding what his uncle -had said, and came to us; but I must tell you all. - -We were going to a farm-house, not far off, to drink some warm milk. -Edward ran himself out of breath to overtake us. Seeing him running, we -waited for him, thinking that he had obtained leave to go with us. After -we had walked a little way together, we met a boy with a wheel-barrow, -on which there was a barrel of vinegar. He made us a bow. Soon after his -wheel-barrow was turned over, and the vinegar barrel fell out on the -ground. The poor boy was in great distress, for he was not able to lift -the barrel on the wheel-barrow again; and there was nobody near him who -could offer him their assistance. Charles ran to him, Come William, come -Edward, said he, let us help this little boy, we shall all four be able -to put the barrel in the wheel-barrow. Are you foolish, cried Edward? do -you think I would demean myself to such low work? There is no meanness, -replied Charles, in doing a good action. Let us see, said I, we three -are strong enough, it is not very heavy; in short, mama, we placed the -barrel on the barrow—while Edward did nothing but sing, and call us -fools. The little boy was very much obliged to us, and wheeled away. - -Fine young gentlemen, said Edward, you will soon be able to wheel a -vinegar barrel. Very well, cousin, answered Charles, laughing, then if -my vinegar barrel was to fall, I should be very thankful to any person -who would help me up with it. Laugh as you will, continued Edward, but -what would your father say, if he was told what you have done? He would -commend Charles, said Emilia, my father is good, he would have done just -the same himself. And I, said Edward, am ashamed of this affair; what -had we to do with that poor boy? Oh! replied Charles, we must not only -be serviceable to others who have need of assistance because it is our -duty; but we must do it to gratify humane feelings, which, my father -says, are in every good heart. I should not have enjoyed the treat we -are going to have, if I had left the boy vainly attempting to replace -his barrel. Besides, that very boy might have it in his power, some time -or other, to assist us; but this is not a motive, a good action is its -own reward. - -We had not been many minutes in the farm-house before Edward proposed -sailing in a small boat on a little river near the house. Charles and -Emilia refused, saying, that he knew very well that their father and Dr. -Bartlett had forbid them. But they will not know any thing about it, -replied Edward. Yes, returned Charles, I might conceal it without -telling a positive lie; but I could not meet their eyes in the evening, -nor say my prayers if I had deceived them. - -Well then, answered Edward, if you will not go on the water, I will -return home; for I do not find any amusement here. - -We all thought he meant to do so; but would you believe it, he went into -the boat without our perceiving it.—In about half an hour we heard some -one crying out for help. We ran to the place, with the farmer and his -son.—But what a terrible sight! We quickly saw it was Edward who had -fallen into the river; and there was in the water with him a boy, who -was vainly endeavouring to draw him to the bank. The farmer hastened to -their assistance, and dragged them both out of the water; but Edward was -insensible. Emilia wept aloud, and I was so surprised and terrified I -could not speak: Charles only had presence of mind. He ordered that they -should carry his cousin to the mansion-house; and entreated his sister -to try to compose herself; your tears, said he, will frighten our -parents: we must hasten to inform them in the gentlest manner of this -misfortune. We soon reached the house. Lady Grandison turned pale, and -could scarcely follow Sir Charles, who ran to meet the motionless body -which the farmer and his son supported. - -At last, dear mother, Edward came to himself; but he is still in bed, -for he caught a very violent cold. Perhaps this accident may do him -good, I wish it may! Farewel, dear mother, I shall write soon again. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER X. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Lady Grandison is better, and Edward almost recovered: and he is grown -much wiser. I mentioned in my last letter, a young boy who had jumped -into the water to save Edward: now this was the same boy whom we -assisted, when Edward laughed at us. I thought of the fable of the Lion -and the Mouse for certainly he would have been drowned if this -courageous boy had not been there. But I must tell you part of a -conversation which we had concerning this matter, when we sat in the -sick chamber. - - EDWARD. - -You are very kind, Charles and William, to come to sit with me; this -fine evening you could have had more pleasure below than with me. - - CHARLES. - -It would be mean to seek pleasure only for ourselves. If I was sick, you -would, I am sure, come to visit me. - - WILLIAM. - -It is sufficient for us, to see you so well, it might have had a worse -issue. - - EDWARD. - -That is very true. If I had continued a moment longer in the water, I -had been gone; and without that boy who sells vinegar, I should not have -been able to have made you hear. - - CHARLES. - -See then, in this instance, the brotherly love which, I said, we ought -to cultivate: we should do good to every fellow-creature; love all as -men, but choose our friends. - - EDWARD. - -I have lamented, indeed I have, that I did not help the poor boy who -ventured his life to save mine. - - CHARLES. - -You are very right to acknowledge your fault; and after such an -acknowledgement, only the ill-natured will remember it to your -disadvantage. And for the service you may have an opportunity of -recompensing the boy, and do not forget to do it, you are indebted to -him for life. He has been the instrument, in the hands of providence, of -your preservation; and, perhaps, God allowed him to save you, to impress -on your mind a useful lesson, to root out your foolish pride. What would -a young gentleman have done on such an occasion? He would, most -probably, have called out for help; but this hardy boy, more accustomed -to difficulties, and having less fear, plunged in without thinking of -the danger he ran into. Let us, then, love all our fellow-creatures; -those in the lowest condition may be as useful, nay, more so, than those -who fill the highest station. One common nature equally ties us to both; -are we not all children of the same father? - -I had tears in my eyes, dear mother, when I heard Charles deliver these -sentiments; his own shone; he is a good creature. I recollected I have -often seen labouring men very compassionate. God takes care of the -meanest insect, Dr. Bartlett says. - -Farewell. I forgot to tell you that we are to go to-morrow to dine with -a sister of Sir Charles’s, whose house is some miles distant from hence; -and as we are to rise earlier than usual, I am going to bed, that I may -not keep them a moment in the morning waiting for me. Edward cannot go -with us, he is very sorry, and I pity him, he will be so dull alone; but -I will lend him a book full of stories. Once more farewell. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XI. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -We have been very happy at Lord L——’s; I wish you had seen how well my -friend Charles behaves himself in company. Not like young Dulis, I -assure you. He has so much affectation and formality: he does nothing -but bow, and make compliments, with a half-ashamed face, as if he had -done wrong, and was afraid to look the person he spoke to in the face. -Charles, on the contrary, is polite with a noble freedom; he walks with -ease and grace; he listens with attention, and speaks little; but when -the discourse is directed to him, he returns a modest answer. - -I will give you an instance of his attention. We were in the garden with -the whole party: one of the young ladies had left her hat in the house -and complained of the heat of the sun; Charles heard her, and ran -immediately for it. Then, with his usual mirth, he asked permission to -put it on the lady’s head. - -Oh, could I be like him how happy I should be! I will try to be as -attentive and complaisant. Most people only come into company to eat and -drink. I know, for you have told me, that children should not converse -much; but they must not appear tired and stupidly dumb. Is it not true, -dear mother? - -Lady L—— has two daughters, they are both very pleasing; the eldest, -Charlotte, sings admirably: Emilia is very fond of her, and they have -promised to write to each other. - -—But I must not forget to tell you what happened to us in our way home. -Sir Charles and Lady Grandison, Emilia and another Lady rode in one -carriage on before; we were with Dr. Bartlett in the chaise. We had not -travelled above three miles, when we saw a poor blind old man sitting -very sorrowful under a tree. Charles stopped the carriage. Pray, dear -sir, said he, look at that man, he appears blind and wretched; he has -nobody with him, pray let me speak to him. He quickly received -permission, and jumped out of the carriage. Who are you, my honest -friend? said he; who has left you alone in such a solitary place? Alas! -answered the blind man, I am very poor, I came out this morning to beg -in the neighbouring village, and my leader, a cruel boy, has left me to -myself, because I had not collected enough to pay him as usual. Ah! -replied Charles, the sun is already set, it will soon be dark; and what -will you then do? I must perish, if God, who is my only refuge, does not -send some one to help me. No, answered Charles, you shall not perish; -God has sent me to help you.—Dear Dr. Bartlett, let me be so happy as to -save an unfortunate blind man left alone, and who might have been lost, -if we had not met with him! The night comes on apace, where would this -distressed fellow-creature go without a guide? We cannot be far from his -house, do take him into the chaise, I will ride behind, that you may not -be incommoded. Dr. Bartlett would not allow him to do so, but made room -for the poor man. Any other but Charles would, probably, instead of -offering to ride behind, have been ashamed of being seen with a man in -such ragged clothes; but he, on the contrary, seemed to find pleasure in -his company. In short, we only went a mile out of our way; and when we -left him at his cottage door, I saw Charles slip some money into his -hand, while he modestly received the old man’s blessing. - -Dr. Bartlett highly commended this act of humanity when we reached home. -But, said Emilia, the man in rags must have appeared an odd figure in -such a fine carriage. I never thought of that, sister, answered Charles, -I was so glad to seize an opportunity of doing good—and felt myself so -warmly interested about the old man’s preservation. Nobly done, my son, -said Sir Charles. Observe, Emilia, your brother has made a triumphal car -of his carriage, which, has done him more honour than those the -victorious Romans, whose history you are all reading, made for their -heroes; he has saved the life of his brother—a poor wanderer in the -dark; yet, forlorn as he appeared, that God who allows us to enjoy the -cheerful light of day, cares for him, and Jesus Christ would have felt -compassion for him; in his eyes the good only were great. Come to my -arms, my son, you rejoice your father’s heart. We were all silent for a -few moments, and tears stood in our eyes—and I prayed that I might glad -my mother’s heart. Farewel, my dearest mother, love your - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XII. - _Miss_ EMILIA GRANDISON _to Miss_ CHARLOTTE L——. - - -I send you a small landscape which I have drawn myself, my dear cousin. -It is not very valuable I know; but I hope to improve as I grow older, -and then I will send you one done in a superior style; but pray hang -this in your chamber, and then you will often think of me. - -I wish now to ask your advice; next Thursday is mama’s birth-day, can -you not transcribe for me some verses out of that pretty book you have, -which I would present to my mother to express my respect and good -wishes, and to shew her—No,—I believe it would not be right—No, do not -do it; I will try to express my wishes in my own words.—Why should mama -have stolen verses? I love her dearly, and I think I can easily say what -gratitude and love inspires; and should my foolish tongue falter, surely -she will be able to read in every turn of my face, the sincere affection -which warms my heart. I will then think of what this good mother has -done for me, what misfortunes she preserved me from; next to God, my -thanks are due to her. Indeed I do love her, and I will endeavour to -shew my gratitude by my attention to her most trivial commands or -wishes; and I hope, I shall never through thoughtlessness occasion her a -moment’s uneasiness: I I should hate myself if I did. - -For the future, dear cousin, I will earnestly pray to God to spare my -father and mother, the dearest earthly blessings I enjoy. The thought of -losing them depresses my spirits:—O may God long preserve them! Yes, -yes, with these sentiments, I shall know very well how to wish mama many -returns of the day we are to celebrate. I have net her a purse, during -our play hours; I mean to surprise her—she will see that Emilia thinks -of her. - -Adieu, dear Charlotte, love your affectionate cousin - - EMILIA. - - - - - LETTER XIII. - _Mrs._ D—— _to_ WILLIAM. - - -You learn natural philosophy, my son; consider it as the road to the -most sublime knowledge, that of tracing the Creator in his works. His -wisdom is conspicuous in the most minute of his productions; all are -done well. Observing this uncommon harmony, you will every day love -God—love goodness more and more. Sentiments of respect will be implanted -in your heart, an awful reverential affection for the great Ruler of the -universe; which affection, if it is active, virtue will flow from, -founded on just principles. - -Continue to send me an account of your conversations and your -observations; they afford me pleasure, and impress the important -instructions you receive on your own mind. Be ever thankful to your -benefactors, my William; and remember, your diligent attention to your -exercises, will be the surest proof of your gratitude. Neglect not a -moment; it is the only way to answer the noble purposes you were created -to pursue. What agreeable conversations we shall have together when you -return; you have—and will in future gladden your mother’s heart. God -will bless you for it. - -Your little sister begins to write very tolerably. Mama, said she to me, -the other day, I see it is good to learn to write, for else my brother -and you could not tell any thing to each other; it is the same as if he -was with you. I hope to be able to write to him myself soon; and then he -will answer my letter, and I shall have a letter. I love you very much, -mama, for teaching me; I will be always good, because you are so good. -What must I do, to shew you how thankful I am? Learn well, Annette, -replied I. How, answered she, that is for my own good! I should be -unhappy, I could never write to my brother, if I did not. She joins with -me in love. Adieu. - - D. - - - - - LETTER XIV. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -I thank you, dear mother, for your kind letter; it is so long since you -wrote to me, I was almost afraid you were displeased with me. Hear what -I do, I always carry your last letter in my bosom, then I can read it -often, and remember the lessons you give me. I love dearly my little -sister Annette, she is so good, and so dutiful to you. Miss Emilia sends -her a fine doll, I am sure it will please her. - -Yesterday was the birth-day of Lady Grandison. Charles was up an hour -earlier than usual, and when I awoke I found him, for we sleep together, -busy, praying to God for his dear mother; we read some chapters in the -New Testament, and then Charles dressed himself in his new clothes. You -perhaps may wonder at this; but I will tell you how it was. About a -month ago Charles and Edward had each a new summer suit, and were -allowed to choose the colour themselves. Edward wore his as soon as it -came home; but Charles said that he would keep his till some holiday, -and this was the holiday he fixed on. He was soon dressed, and we joined -Emilia, who stood ready at our chamber door waiting for us. - -We hastened to the breakfast parlour. Charles was the first to -congratulate his mother on this occasion; Emilia followed him, and gave -her a purse, she had privately net: Charles, I forgot to mention, had -plucked a nosegay of his finest flowers. I in like manner discharged my -duty as well as I could, at least with a sincere heart, for I love my -benefactors. Edward came into the room soon after; but he approached -Lady Grandison in a careless manner, and seemed to be thinking of -something else. - -We all received some presents—mine was a microscope, the thing of all -others I wished for; how kind it was of Lady Grandison to think of my -wishes. You will be pleased with it, and I will instruct Annette, she -shall see the wonders I have admired. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XV. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -I have here new pleasures every day, dear mother; your William is now -become a gardener. Will you help me, said Charles, the day before -yesterday? and if you like it, I will lay out my garden in another -manner. It is now full of flowers; but it affords me not sufficient -employment: I would wish to change a part of it at least into a -kitchen-garden. My answer was ready. We accordingly went each with a -small spade to work, and quickly dug up the whole garden. The next day -we made a small bed for the flowers, and ranged them in due order. We -rose very early to work, before the sun was intolerably warm; the -gardener gave us some seeds which are proper to sow this month. Now we -only desire to see them come up, and intend carefully to weed them. How -pleasant it will be, to see the plants shoot out of the ground! - -I have seen many wonderful things every day of my life without observing -them; but Dr. Bartlett and Charles have taught me to see God in a tree, -a flower, a worm; we converse about them. I will relate a conversation -we had yesterday. Charles has an aviary, he is very fond of his birds; -we had done our work in the garden, and took a walk with Emilia. - - CHARLES. - -Excuse me, I must leave you a moment; I recollect that I have not taken -care of my birds. We both desired to accompany him. - - WILLIAM. - -Pretty creatures, they seem as if they belonged to you. - - CHARLES. - -That they do certainly, because they are accustomed to eat out of my -hand. - - WILLIAM. - -They appear to know you, but how do they distinguish betwixt you and me? - - CHARLES. - -It is certain that they have the power to discern, for I have often -seen, when I come with my hat on they fly away; and I conclude from that -circumstance, this faculty of discernment, which I am sure they possess, -is very weak, or they would always know me. - - EMILIA. - -You are very good to your birds, brother; but Edward let his linnet die -with hunger. If I was to do so, I should never forgive myself. - - CHARLES. - -It would be cruel, indeed, to confine the poor creatures, where they -cannot get any thing to eat; and then to neglect them. - - EMILIA. - -But may I ask you something, Charles? Would it not be more noble if you -was to give them their liberty? They sit there like prisoners; we only -confine bad people, and these poor birds have not done wrong. - - CHARLES. - -No, they are not unhappy in their confinement; God has created them for -our pleasure, though we displease him when we treat them with cruelty. - - EMILIA. - -They must yet, I think, be uneasy, when they see others flying in the -open air, and themselves shut up.—We should not be satisfied. - - CHARLES. - -They cannot reason as we can. If we were shut up, we should say to -ourselves, how disagreeable it is to be confined; and how precious is -liberty. But birds have not any idea of this difference. If we give them -plenty to eat and drink they are content, without wishing for what they -have not. That linnet of Edward’s, you just now mentioned, as long as he -had something, he eat it up, without any anxiety for the future. A sign, -that he had not the power of reflecting. A man, on the contrary, would -be afraid of want, if his provisions began to fail; and then he would -eat sparingly; but a bird has not any conception of wanting food—much -less his liberty. - -I will only add, that I am your affectionate son, - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XVI. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Sir Charles and his Lady went yesterday to pay a visit, and took Emilia -and Edward with them. Charles and I remained at home with Dr. Bartlett. -After our lessons were finished, we requested him to walk with us; the -evening was very fine, the sun was setting. Dr. Bartlett proposed -ascending a neighbouring hill, that we might see the sun set—for, said -he, it is a fine sight. - - CHARLES. - -You have often told me, Sir, that the sun did not move, but the earth on -which we live goes round the sun. If so, why do you say, the sun sets? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -That is a manner of speaking which has been taken from the earliest -times, and the term is generally used, though the same sense is not -annexed to it. They thought formerly that the sun moved round the earth, -which it seems to do; but we now know better, after further enquiries, -and various observations. - - CHARLES. - -Should we then say that the sun moves? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -If you were in a boat, you would say with as much propriety, that the -land and the trees moved, by which you failed; and yet they do not move. - - CHARLES. - -That is true, I have often observed it; but how comes it, that we do not -feel the motion of the earth? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Because you are accustomed to it from your birth, and the motion of so -vast a body cannot be felt by so small a creature as man is, in -proportion. The sun is much larger than the earth; thus it is most -reasonable to conceive, arguing from what we know of the wisdom of the -great Mover, that the earth goes round the sun, than that the sun moves -round the earth. - - WILLIAM. - -And is the sun, Sir, so very large? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -It is well known to astronomers, that the sun is above a million of -times bigger than the earth: judge then how large it must be. - - WILLIAM. - -But how do you know all this? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -By careful investigation; and as you are fond of reading, you may -yourself be convinced of it; Charles will lend you the Spectacle de la -Nature[1]. In that excellent book you will find instruction delivered in -an easy manner. - -Footnote 1: - - On this subject a more useful book has been lately published, - entitled, An Introduction to Astronomy. - - CHARLES. - -But I must yet ask you, Sir, how can the sun, which you say is about -ninety-five millions of miles from us, give us so much warmth and light? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -That is truly a great miracle of almighty Power. - - WILLIAM. - -I am glad I know that the sun is so large. Many think it is not larger -than it appears to us. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -The further any thing is from us, the smaller it appears; as that kite -for instance, it will appear much less in the air, than it does on the -ground. - - CHARLES. - -Certainly; and this is also a proof, that the sun must be amazingly -great, because that it is at such an immense distance from us. The moon, -by the same rule, must be very large. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -The moon is large; but much less than the earth. There are stars which -are of a much superior magnitude. - - WILLIAM. - -We should not think so. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -That arises from the stars being still further from us than the moon. - - WILLIAM. - -And is the moon also a globe of fire? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -No. The moon is a dark body, it receives its light from the sun. - - CHARLES. - -All the stars which we see, have their names I suppose? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Not all; we have given names to some of them, that we may better -distinguish them. - - CHARLES. - -I feel a great desire to be an astronomer; it must be a very pleasing -study. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -That desire should be encouraged; you will by this science learn rightly -to know the great power of your Creator. View the setting sun—what a -glorious scene! We should without it be very miserable. All would lie in -dreadful darkness. It affords us light, and it brings an agreeable -warmth to the earth; it makes the fruit and grass grow: the earth could -not bring forth without the sun’s influence. - - CHARLES. - -There, the sun is set.—How comes it that it is not now immediately dark? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -That arises from the flexibility of its beams, which we will enquire -into another time; your laudable curiosity pleases me. Let us now -reflect what great benefit we receive from God’s allowing the darkness -to come on so gradually. Would it not be dreadful if we came in a moment -from clear light into thick darkness? - - CHARLES. - -Very true, Sir; it would damp our spirits, and the night would then -always surprise us before we were aware of it. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -It is indeed happy for us that the night comes and goes away -imperceptibly. If we passed out of darkness into light in a moment, our -eyes would be blinded by the sudden glare; and the surprise would -discompose our minds. The wisdom of the Almighty Creator appears thus in -every thing. - - CHARLES. - -I never yet thought of that benefit, when I have seen the sun set. I am -glad, Sir, that you have pointed it out to me, for it will make me more -thankful for the divine goodness. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -I will send for my telescope, and then you will have a nearer view of -the moon. And to-morrow morning I will call you very early, and we will -see the sun rise—you will find it equally beautiful. - - -Dear mother, how happy I am to learn all this. I already feel more love -and reverence for God, the cause of all these wonders, than I had -before. If I grew ever so tall, I should not think myself a man, till I -knew something of the works of God.—Can a man be wise who sees him not -in every surrounding object? Charles and I intend to make all the -enquiries we possibly can—we will try to be good and wise. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XVII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -We were this morning, mama, at half past two, in the fields, to see the -beautiful scene of the sun rising. Edward would not go with us, he -rather chose to sleep. He is very lazy, and ignorant of course, Dr. -Bartlett says. Yet, though he plays much more than we do, he is not so -happy; he often seems not to know what to do with himself, idleness -making the hours so heavy. He wishes for his meals long before the time, -and torments insects and animals wantonly to shorten the tedious -interval. I heard Sir Charles say, the other day, he feared he would -never be a man in understanding. That instead of rising gradually to a -man, he was sinking into a brute. But I must relate our conversation. -The stars were yet visible when we went out. - - CHARLES. - -My father has promised me some excellent books, Sir. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -The books of wise writers, are useful to make us more easily understand -what we see and experience; but our own eyes may teach us a great deal. -The Book of Nature, the heavens, with all the stars and planets; this -earth on which we are, with all its productions and creatures, is the -best book; but others will serve as guides. - - CHARLES. - -See, Sir, I think it is lighter. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Observe now, how the stars begin to grow dim, before the approaching -light of the sun. - - WILLIAM. - -I thought always that the stars went away, when it was day light. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -There are some which have their appointed revolutions; and others which -are stationary; these we call the fixed stars. - - CHARLES. - -Are there stars then by day as well as by night? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Certainly. But the stronger light of the sun, makes the fainter light of -the stars invisible. - - CHARLES. - -How beautiful the trees and fields begin to appear. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Yes. What just now appeared a scene of confusion, is changed into a -charming country. The fields, which were before not to be distinguished, -now seem green, and decked with a thousand flowers. The light gives all -again their colours. - - CHARLES. - -What you say is remarkable. I begin to imagine that the light gives the -colours. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Without light, would not all be black? But this is a subject you cannot -understand, till you have read and considered things more maturely. See -there, the sun begins to appear. What think you of that sight? - - CHARLES. - -Can it be, that most men spend this hour in sleep? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Such men make themselves unworthy the favours of their Maker. The -glorious sun, which is sent to make us joyful, to warm us, and to -nourish us, well deserves that we should sometimes rise to bid it -welcome. - - CHARLES. - -Pray let us often behold the rising of the sun. We sometimes spend money -to see a fine scene; and this scene, which we can have for nothing, -beyond measure surpasses what can be done by the art of man. - - -Dr. Bartlett then was moving homewards; but we requested him to prolong -his walk, as the morning was fine, and we knew they would not wait -breakfast for us. But this letter is already too long, and I must attend -my drawing-master; you shall hear the rest soon. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XVIII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -I have not forgotten what I promised you, dear mother. No, you have told -me we should always remember what we promise. - - CHARLES. - -How beautifully green the fields are. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Yes, that green enlivens the prospect, and does not require much -cultivation: a common blessing we often overlook, though our gratitude -on that very account should be excited. - - CHARLES. - -The garden gives us more flowers, and a greater variety. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -You are mistaken; the field flowers are innumerable. Look round about -you, and you will see that I have reason to say so. - - WILLIAM. - -But then the fruits which the garden produces. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -These fruits are the gift of our Creator, for which you ought to be -thankful; but believe me, these blades on which we tread are of yet -greater value. They support the cattle who yield us such delicate food, -milk, butter, and cheese. The useful horse here renews his strength; and -the sheep, whose wool answers so many purposes, which keeps us warm both -day and night, nip the short grass every where spread. And all this -happens without our labour, or any great care; while the fruits and the -flowers in the garden, require perpetual attention. Certainly we find -here a much greater proof of God’s goodness than in our flower garden. -This grass is necessary, my friends, but the flowers and the fruits we -could live without. - - CHARLES. - -These wild flowers are very pretty; why do we set so little value on -them? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Because we accustom ourselves to consider things in a wrong point of -view; and to imagine those of little value which we obtain without art -or labour. Come, my young friends, let us correct this mistake; let us -not undervalue even the grass; let us always acknowledge it to be the -liberal gift of heaven, intended to support both man and beast. - - WILLIAM. - -Look what a quantity of fish, that rivulet contains. - - CHARLES. - -They are beautiful creatures; how can they live in the water? Most other -animals would die. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -God has given the fish another kind of body; because they were designed -for the water, to inhabit the great deep. They have fins to move -themselves from place to place; and besides that, the tail is of great -use to them in swimming; and the fins, which they have on their backs -and bellies, enable them to keep themselves upright. - - CHARLES. - -But how can they breathe; have they any air in the water? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -You must have observed, that they first draw the water in, and then -immediately spurt it out again: they obtain by this continual motion, -the air which is necessary. - - CHARLES. - -You have well said, my dear Sir, that in every thing the great wisdom of -God is displayed: for this is truly wonderful. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -There are yet greater wonders to be seen in the world of waters.—Would -you think, that in a single drop of water, there are thousands of living -creatures, which you cannot see with your naked eye? - - WILLIAM. - -In a single drop of water? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Yes. And to convince yourself of this, you have only to use your -microscope, and you will plainly see an innumerable quantity of -creatures sporting in the comparatively small space. - - CHARLES. - -You fill me with astonishment. Pray let us go home directly, I long to -view this new world of creatures. - -Dr. Bartlett commended his curiosity. We returned home; and after we had -swallowed a hasty breakfast, carried a glass of the river water into our -play-room. We soon saw that what Dr. Bartlett said was true. Certainly, -my dear mother, that glass of water was a sea full of all sorts of -creatures, of wonderful forms. I never thought that there were such -small living creatures. How admirable is the wisdom of God! for you -recollect that so small a body must have members and bowels, as perfect -for the purposes of life as the largest animal. We have discovered all -this through the assistance of the microscope; but my letter would be -too long, if I was to relate all that we have discovered. Bless your -son, my mother. Adieu. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XIX. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Sir Charles and Lady Grandison have been for some days from home; but -Dr. Bartlett is with us. The house-keeper, and all the servants, consult -Emilia, and she, in the most modest manner, tells them what she knows -her mother wishes them to do. She is not allowed to command any of them; -the house-keeper in particular, a respectable woman, Lady Grandison -said, ought not to receive orders from a child; but she behaves with -such propriety, they are all eager to oblige her; indeed she follows her -brother’s example. Edward, on the contrary, does nothing but romp and -wrestle, and afterwards quarrel with them. He hates all employment; I -should imagine, those who do not learn when they are young, must appear -very foolish when they are old. You shall hear what Charles said to him -yesterday. Charles, Emilia, and I sat on one side of the room, drawing; -while Edward tied a thread to a beetle—and often he would jump, as if by -accident, against our chairs, to disturb us and make us leave our -employment. Charles spoke to him. - - CHARLES. - -Ah, Edward, what pleasure can you find in torturing a poor insect? It -turns me sick to see you; pray let it go! - - EDWARD. - -And what do you do, when you and William set the butterflies on a needle -to look at them through your fine microscope? That pleases you, and this -pleases me. - - CHARLES. - -If William and I set the butterflies on a needle, only for our -amusement, it would be wrong; but we do it to instruct ourselves—yet, -though we seek instruction, I could not bear to torture them; the sight -of their agonies would engross my whole attention. Dr. Bartlett has -taught me to kill them expeditiously without injuring their appearance. -I then gratify my curiosity without hardening my heart, for that -tender-hearted man, our dear tutor, often says, that even the attainment -of knowledge cannot compensate for a quick emotion of benevolence, -banished by a habit of thoughtless cruelty. He wishes to make me wise; -but still more ardently to incite me to practise goodness, to shew -kindness to the insects who crawl under my feet; and to let my love -mount up from them to the beings, who, while they enjoy the blessings of -heaven, can recognize the hand which bestows them. - - EDWARD. - -Well, if you will come with me into the garden, I will let it go. - - CHARLES. - -That is to say, that if I refuse to go with you, you will continue to -torment the poor insect. It is not it’s fault if I do not go with -you—surely this is not right; but I will accompany you. - - EMILIA. - -It begins to rain. - - CHARLES. - -Shall I read to you? I have got a very entertaining book. - - EDWARD. - -You know I do not love reading. - - CHARLES. - -So you do not desire to converse with men. - - EDWARD. - -Well, yes.—What then? - - CHARLES. - -Books speak; and make us wiser, while we are amused. - - EDWARD. - -I do not desire to be learned; but to be an officer. - - EMILIA. - -A fine officer, who will not know how to read or write intelligibly! - - EDWARD. - -Now, Charles, preach, as you did the other day about cards. - - CHARLES. - -I reproved your too great fondness for cards. You are angry if you lose; -and those who cannot play with temper, in my opinion, ought never to -play at all. It is not amiss to know how to play, because that cards are -so much used in company, and it enables one to oblige those who are fond -of this amusement. I do not find any pleasure in it; and I hope never, -from a false pride, to be induced to play for more than I can afford to -lose. - - EMILIA. - -Poor Mr. Beverley, who died last week, and left his family in great -distress, my mama told me, first played to avoid being laughed at, and -called a mean-spirited man. He went on from one thing to another, till -he spent his whole fortune, and ruined his constitution. His wife -actually took in needlework to support him during his last illness, -though she had been educated to expect better things. He died in an -obscure lodging, a burden to the woman he ought to have been a comfort -to; and left his half-starved babes, to weep over the lifeless body of -their inconsiderate parent. I wept too—when I heard of it. - -The conversation was interrupted, but I must tell you Emilia had tears -in her eyes, when she told us about poor Mr. Beverley’s children. I -remember now I used to be vexed when young Dulis laughed at me, and -called me a coward, when I refused to do mischief; and mean, when I -saved my money, though I intended to give it to a poor blind man; but he -did not know that. I do not like to tell any one but yourself that I -give most part of my allowance to the poor; it would look as if I wanted -to be praised, and that the love of praise was my motive; but indeed it -is not, the pleasure I feel at the moment, is a sufficient reward. -Besides, I think I resemble my dear mother, and I am happy.—I am sure -you will love me, if I practise virtue. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XX. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -One of the servants has been very ill. You cannot think how -compassionately Emilia attended her. She rose very early this morning to -carry her some refreshment, and tried to amuse her. She requested Dr. -Bartlett to send for a physician; and she took as much care of her as if -the poor girl had been her own sister. Edward reproached her. It well -becomes you, said he, to be sure, to wait on the maid. And why not, -answered she; you play with the servant to amuse yourself (and such a -degree of familiarity is indeed improper) and I take care of the maid, -through pity. A servant is a human being; we are differently educated, I -cannot make them my companions, but I will ever try to treat them -humanely—and remember that they are my fellow-creatures, when they are -in distress. Edward was ashamed and ran out of the room. My mother, I -thought, always acted in the same manner. I remember well, when our -Hannah had the fever, that you took care of her yourself. But it brings -to my remembrance something, which makes me sorrowful. How unfortunate -you are! Here are so many servants, and you, my poor mother, have only a -little girl to assist; you yourself are obliged to do many things—a -colonel’s widow should have servants to wait on her; it is mean to work, -and do not people despise you for being reduced to such a condition? -When I am a man, and have increased my fortune, you shall have servants, -and live as a gentlewoman ought to live. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXI. - _Mrs._ D—— _to_ WILLIAM. - - -I admire Emilia, she is a good, and a pleasing girl; there is not a more -amiable virtue than compassion. It is much to be wished that all young -ladies would take her for their pattern; and, instead of falling into -the two shameful extremes, familiarity and haughtiness, which are often -to be observed in the same character, they would treat their servants -with humanity and decent kindness. You know how frequently I have -praised you for your affability to your inferiors.—But, William, why are -you grieved that I have but one servant? A number of servants are not -necessary; they serve more for shew than use. Had I riches, I would try -not to waste the precious deposit; I would live according to my station. -And while my own real and artificial wants were supplied, I should think -with pleasure, that though so many servants were not necessary to wait -on me, I enabled some industrious fellow-creatures to earn an honest -livelihood; and by humane treatment made their labour pleasant. But -since it has not pleased heaven to give me riches, I am content, and -thankful that I can keep a girl to do the most laborious and menial part -of my household business, which I could not do without injuring my -health, and neglecting your sister’s education. I am not in absolute -need of any more assistance. And what now is that employment, which, you -say, is unbecoming the widow of a colonel? You wrote hastily, it is not -dishonourable to serve ourselves when we cannot afford to pay for the -services of others. It will be more satisfaction to you, to be able to -say, after my death, my mother provided her own dinner; her clothes were -the work of her hands; her economy made up for the deficiencies of -fortune; and her virtues made her respectable; than if you heard your -parent reproached, for living according to her rank, and birth. She had -a fine house, rich furniture, a number of servants; but she has left -nothing behind her; and what is still worse, has injured several -industrious people who trusted to her honour. What would then be the son -of a colonel? A despised youth, who, though innocent, must blush for his -mother’s want of thought and justice. The son of a reputable tradesman, -would scarcely acknowledge him as an equal; but I have laid enough, I -hope, to dissipate your false pride and concern for me: you find I am -satisfied with my station. Again let me tell you, your letters are a -comfort to me; was I much poorer than I am, I should still esteem myself -rich in the possession of such a son. - -Farewel, my dear William, regulate and follow the good inclinations I -have endeavoured to cultivate, then you will not only be the comfort of -your mother, but the protector of your sister. - - D. - - - - - LETTER XXII. - EMILIA GRANDISON _to Lady_ GRANDISON. - - -We have been greatly alarmed, dear mother. Mr. Wilson’s house was last -night burned to the ground. Oh what frightful flames! The air was as red -as blood; my heart beat very strong, I trembled lest the family should -be destroyed in their beds.—It was dreadful to see such devastation by -fire; how careful we ought to be to avoid the sudden horror of so -terrible a calamity. If they had been careful, this misfortune would not -have happened; the two Miss Wilsons were the occasion of it. They had in -the evening, without its being observed, lighted a fire in their -play-room; and spread the coals on the hearth to bake privately some -cakes. The fire must certainly have caught the boards; but they did not -perceive it; as they were interrupted before the cakes were half baked, -and obliged to go to their mother, who called for them. They swallowed -hastily the unwholesome, and even unpalatable cakes, and shut the door -without thinking any more about it. The flames did not burst out till -the whole family had been some time fast asleep. There is not any thing -saved. All the furniture, clothes, and the stock of the farm were -reduced to ashes. The poor girls escaped with only a single petticoat -on; and Mrs. Wilson was with difficulty rescued from the devouring -flames, which consumed all her substance. - -What will now become of that pride, which made the Miss Wilsons treat -with such disdain the neighbouring farmers daughters, because they were -their inferiors in birth and fortune—and now they are happy to find a -shelter in the houses they despised. Indeed, mama, I will obey you, and -ever behave with kindness to my inferiors. But I have something else to -tell you, and I am sure you will not be angry with me; I sent some of my -clothes to the Miss Wilson, who is about my size; I have more than I -want—and surely, mama, if that was not the case, I ought cheerfully to -bear a trifling inconvenience to do a fellow-creature an essential -service. Wearing for the first time new clothes, never gave me half the -pleasure—no, it cannot be compared with what I felt, when I gave away my -old ones. I did not send my best (though I would have parted with them -without feeling any reluctance) as I thought, common clothes would suit -her better. Farewel, dear mother. - - EMILIA. - - - - - LETTER XXIII. - _Young_ GRANDISON _to his_ FATHER. - - -I am just returned, my dear father, from visiting poor Mr. Wilson. -Emilia has written my mother an account of the dreadful accident which -happened last night; and I wish, ardently wish, to alleviate the -distress I could scarcely behold without tears—indeed I believe I should -have wept, if I had not been full of a plan, which darted into my head, -when I heard the grey-headed old man lament the disaster, which, in the -course of one night, swept away the hard-earned fruits of many toiling -years. To be plunged into poverty, said he, when my strength faileth me, -and even the sweat of my brow will not procure the necessaries of -life—is sad. And so it is; now I will tell you what I have thought of. -You know my uncle left me five thousand pounds—I think it a great -fortune, and I can surely spare two hundred to help Mr. Wilson out of -his extreme distress; that sum would be sufficient to stock another -farm. I shall be rich enough, and the more so, as you are so good as to -let the interest accumulate. I beg, Sir, you will not refuse my humble -request—I shall have more satisfaction in relieving this unfortunate -man, than ever my two hundred pounds can give. To rescue from poverty an -industrious man and his family, what a blessing! In this respect, let me -be like my father, who is himself so benevolent,—who has taught me to be -compassionate. Were you but here, I would throw myself at your feet, -and—but it is enough, you will judge if my request merits your -attention; my duty is submission, and I know I need not try to persuade -you—you will at once do what appears to you right. - - CHARLES GRANDISON. - - - - - LETTER XXIV. - _Sir_ CHARLES GRANDISON _to his_ SON. - - -You have learned of me, you say, to be compassionate. It has ever been -my wish and endeavour, to make your heart feel the miseries of your -fellow-creatures; and I have laboured to inculcate the virtue, which -next to the love, the goodness of God ought to inspire, is the noblest -ornament of our nature. The request you make is a proof of the warm -generosity of your heart: and so praise worthy a desire merits a reward. -The fresh discovery I have made of your benevolent disposition, is of -more value, in my estimation, than the two hundred pounds, which you -will find enclosed. Go, my Charles, make glad poor Wilson’s heart, and -taste the delight, which flows from benevolence. But let me tell you, -the legacy must not be touched before you are of age: it was entrusted -to my care as a guardian, and not as a father. - - GRANDISON. - - - - - LETTER XXV. - _Lady_ GRANDISON _to_ EMILIA. - - -You were right, my dear Emilia, when you imagined I could not be angry -with you for following the humane dictates of your heart. As a proof of -my approbation of your conduct, and to reward you for it, I will give -you another opportunity of experiencing the pleasure which arises from -benevolence. You will find in my drawers a piece of calico; send for the -mantua-maker, and desire her to make Mrs. and Miss Wilson a dress -immediately. I know this commission will afford you more pleasure, than -if I gave it you for yourself. But, my Emilia, why did you mention their -faults, when you related the circumstances which made them truly objects -to excite my commiseration. You might silently have determined to behave -properly to your inferiors, without exhibiting the disagreeable picture -of their haughtiness, when it was receiving a severe chastisement. -Never, my child, add to the miseries of others, even though the -sufferers should be unworthy.—Be tender-hearted in every sense of the -word. I do not mean to chide you, when I point out an error; you are a -good girl.—You were judicious in not sending your best clothes; you -considered the wants of the person you wished to assist, and your -generosity had not that tincture of vanity which very frequently -degrades it. Always, my child, define rather to do good, than to display -your goodness: remember that the best of Beings notes your secret -thoughts; and that it is truly noble to have sometimes his approbation -singly in view. - -Farewel, forget not the useful lesson you have given yourself, never to -be proud of clothes or furniture; an unforeseen casualty might deprive -you of them, and even the riches which procured them. “Lay up then a -treasure in heaven; where neither rust, nor moth can corrupt; nor -thieves break through and steal.” - - HARRIOT GRANDISON. - - - - - LETTER XXVI. - CHARLES _to his_ FATHER. - - -What a pleasure you have allowed me to enjoy, my dear father! indeed I -know not how to thank you for it; but I will tell you how happy you have -made Mr. Wilson, and that will reward you. The tears rolled down his -cheeks as he pressed the hand I held out;—but I must relate the -particulars. Mr. Wilson has a great spirit; I was afraid it would hurt -him to receive a present from a boy; I wished to have put it in his -snuff-box, to have avoided hurting his delicacy; but I could not -contrive to do it unobserved. I then offered to lend him the sum he -wanted, and refused a note he would have given me, and ran out of the -house—I did not want thanks—I rather wished to thank God for permitting -me to relieve a fellow-creature. - -I am, dear Sir, your affectionate and dutiful son, - - CHARLES GRANDISON. - - - - - LETTER XXVII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -We went yesterday with Dr. Bartlett to visit a farm-house, where there -are some bee-hives. I had often heard of bees, but I never saw them work -before. What wonderful little creatures! but I will give you our -conversation. - - EMILIA. - -Will not these bees hurt us, Sir? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -No. But we must not make any violent noise; we must approach them -softly. Look, you may imagine you view a whole city, well peopled; where -every one does his best to earn a subsistence in an honest way; none -here stand idle. What a lesson for the sluggard who wastes his time in -idleness, and is a burden to himself and others. - - EMILIA. - -Have they made those little holes entirely themselves? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Yes. They are always employed; they take care in the summer to provide -food for the winter; and build themselves little rooms in which they are -preserved from the cold. They pay also a necessary attention to -cleanliness; they carefully throw out any accidental dirt, and the dead -bees. - - WILLIAM. - -But, Sir, if it should happen that a snail, or any other insect enters -the hive, would they immediately drive it away? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -When they find such an insect, after they have killed it, they enclose -it in wax, so that no damage can arise from it.—Observe what harmony -reigns in the hive; every one has his particular post. One flies out to -gather honey; another takes care of the wax; and a third has his -business in the hive. They who remain at home, come to the entrance of -the hive, to take the load from those who fly abroad: and this way they -relieve and help each other. We may then justly compare them to a -virtuous family; where every one is diligently employed to make his -companions happy. - - CHARLES. - -But I think I see one much larger than the rest. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -You are quick-sighted, it is the queen you see, and they pay her all -possible respect: there is never more than one queen in a swarm. - - CHARLES. - -Bees are of great use to us. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Certainly. We should without them, have neither honey nor wax; which are -both very useful for various purposes. - - WILLIAM. - -But, Sir, is it not hard that we should rob the bees of their honey, -which they have so industriously gathered for themselves? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -It would be cruel, indeed, if we did not leave them a sufficient -quantity. Providence, in the whole of creation, considered the wants of -man; yet did not neglect to supply those of the meanest of his -creatures. We are allowed to govern them, and partake of the dainties -they procure; but the master must not degenerate into a tyrant—a cruel -spoiler. - - EMILIA. - -I never could endure bees, because they sting; but for the future I will -love them. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Do so, and remember that there are many other things which you despise, -only because you cannot discern their use, or have not thought about it. - - EMILIA. - -What kind of an understanding have the bees? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -We distinguish it by the name of instinct. It is instilled at once; and -does not grow gradually, and improve as our faculties, if properly -employed, always will. - - WILLIAM. - -Are there no means to enable men to procure honey? for they see the bees -collect it from the flowers and herbs. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -No certainly. We will look at a bee through the microscope, and then you -will discover the instrument, with which they collect their treasure; an -instrument which all the art of man cannot prepare. - - -Dr. Bartlett said very true; we took a bee home, and looked at it -through our glass—I wish I could give you a description of it; but you -shall see it in my microscope, when we meet in your little room, which I -think of with more pleasure than the sight of the finest English house -ever inspired. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXVIII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Oh! my dear mother, my friend Charles has scalded his leg, and cannot -walk. Edward, who always does things rashly, was the occasion of it, by -throwing down a kettle of boiling water. But I never saw such patience, -such goodness as Charles possesses. Instead of being angry, he, on the -contrary, concealed the pain he felt. It is nothing, said he, it has not -hurt me much, do not make yourself uneasy Edward. But we soon perceived -how it was, for his leg swelled so suddenly, they were obliged to cut -his stocking, before they could get it off. Emilia began to cry, and -upbraid Edward for his carelessness; and thoughtlessly wished he had -scalded himself. Charles interrupted her; I do not wish any one to -suffer, said he; be composed, dear sister, my leg will not, I hope, be -much the worse. Edward did not do it on purpose, it was an accident; -reproaches cannot mend the matter; and if it was worse we ought rather -to encourage each other. He then sent for the house-keeper, and -requested her to dress it—and hearing Dr. Bartlett’s foot-step, -entreated his sister not to mention Edward as the cause of the accident; -your anger, he added, gives me more pain than the scald. - -How happy it is when we can command such presence of mind—such composure -in a moment. Tell me, does it not arise from thinking more of what -others suffer, than the actual pain we ourselves endure? Had he been -fretful, it would not have done him any good; I should have pitied, -without admiring him, as I now do.—But the pleasure I find in writing to -my dear mother, makes me forget that he desired me to keep him company. -I give you then a night kiss in the thoughts of my heart. Adieu. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXIX. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Charles begins to walk a little. I love him, and if I was not excited by -affection, my sense of duty would prompt me to attend him now he is -sick. Besides, I have much pleasure when we are alone together. We were -yesterday busy with our glasses the whole afternoon. Dear mother, what -amazing things there are which we cannot see with our naked eye. Should -you think there are living creatures in a small grain of sand, and that -those grains of sand contain small holes, in which they hide themselves. -The mould that is in old cheese, appears like a wood of trees, with -branches and leaves. In the hair of the head, we discovered a tube, -through which a juice ran. Who would believe that small insects, -scarcely visible, have blood vessels and bowels, constructed with as -much care as those of the largest animals. - -And the flowers, they are indeed beautiful. Come, said Charles, let us -see the difference between the works of God and man. We employed our -attention on the natural rose first; all was splendid and perfect: we -then viewed an artificial rose; but what a difference! All was rough and -disagreeable, and the beauty vanished. We looked at some highly polished -steel; but it appeared like unwrought rusty iron. What then is the art -of man, compared with the almighty power of the Creator? Nothing, -indeed!—Oh that every body knew this! They would have more reverence for -the Supreme Being. But what do we? We pluck a flower—we keep it some -hours; and then throw it away without thinking that the greatest effort -of human art could not produce such another. We slowly labour—but God -spoke—and it was done. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXX. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Sir Charles and Lady Grandison are expected this afternoon. We are all -glad, the servants join in the general joy. Is it not a good sign, when -the servants are attached to their masters? I will endeavour to be good -and humane, when I am a man, it is so delightful to be loved. - -But I must again speak of my friend Charles. Dr. Bartlett asked us after -breakfast if we would take a short walk. Charles, who is much better, -desired to be excused going with us. My leg, said he, is not quite well; -if I walk much on it, my father and mother would perceive it, and I do -not wish to give them a moment’s uneasiness, I would rather lose the -pleasure of the walk. He then remained in his chamber, and Emilia, -Edward, and I, accompanied Dr. Bartlett, and we had the following -conversation. - - EMILIA. - -Why is it not always summer, Sir? The summer is far more delightful than -the winter. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -If it was always summer, we should not enjoy as much pleasure as we do -at present. The succession of the seasons rouses our attention, and -gives variety to the year; you would be tired of the most beautiful -prospect, if it never varied. You have experienced this very often, I -believe. Some months ago, I gave you an optic glass, and you were so -pleased with it that you would leave off eating to amuse yourself with -the wonders it discovered: now your curiosity sleeps, it is thrown -aside; some months hence it may come in play again. So it is with the -trees and flowers; the change of summer and winter is adapted to our -nature, while the earth is allowed a resting time; during which it -gathers fresh strength to bud forth in the beautiful livery of spring. - - EMILIA. - -I never viewed it in this light. Oh! there is a great frog. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Why are you frightened, they will do you no harm. - - EDWARD. - -No, they do no harm. - - EMILIA. - -Dare you then touch one, Edward? - - EDWARD. - -Yes. Look at me, I will touch one. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -We may without danger touch a frog, if we only know how to distinguish -it from a toad.—But it is most prudent not to play with any animal you -are not acquainted with. - - EMILIA. - -Then it is right to be afraid of all sorts of creatures? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -By no means. You know, for example, that it gives you pain when you take -hold of a nettle: have you then reason to cry out when you see a nettle? -Those little creatures, even though provided with a weapon to defend -themselves, or revenge an injury, will not seek you: they are more -afraid of you than you of them. - - WILLIAM. - -See, the frog jumps away when we come near it. - - EMILIA. - -But what say you of rats and mice? - - EDWARD. - -They fear us yet more. You have often seen how they run away, if they -hear the least noise. I for my part am more afraid of fleas and gnats -than of rats and mice. What do all these creatures in the world? They -are of no use. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -How do you know that they are not serviceable? I think, nay, I am sure -they are. All that we discover the cause of in God’s works, is good: and -our ignorance ought not to make us doubt of his goodness. A spider, for -instance, you would say, is a disagreeable useless insect. - - WILLIAM. - -I am afraid of a spider, Sir. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -That is a weakness, my dear William, which you must try to conquer; you -shall draw some spiders for me. Now a spider, that insect so odious in -your eyes, is of great service to us by his diligence. At the time that -the grapes and other fruits begin to ripen, he spins a curious web to -cover them from the flies and other insects, without doing the fruit any -injury. And from this slight circumstance we may conclude with reason, -that most things in the earth are serviceable, though we know not their -particular use. - - EMILIA. - -Look, William, what a fine house, I wish I lived in such a noble one. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -And why, Emilia; think you that that house, because it appears so -stately, is more convenient than the one you inhabit? - - EMILIA. - -It is much larger, Sir. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -The family may be in proportion to its size, if not, great part of it is -useless, you have in your’s, all that you ought to desire. - - EMILIA. - -It looks well, I think, to live in such a fine house. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -My dear Emilia, that shewy appearance is chiefly for those that pass by, -as you do now; there are possibly more wants in that house than in -your’s. Let us always try to be satisfied with what we have, for -otherwise, if you had that house you would not be content, you would -still see a better; and so you would never have done wishing. - -We were silent a few moments, when Dr. Bartlett called hastily to -Emilia, and desired her to cast her eyes on a decayed cottage, near the -road side. - - EMILIA. - -That looks miserable; there is but a small window in it: those who live -in it can have very little light. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -But, miserable as it appears, your fellow-creatures live in it. - - EMILIA. - -They have reason to complain. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Think you so? No. They are happy to have such an house. How many are -there who have scarcely a covering to sleep under; and who, when it -begins to be dark, benumbed with rain and cold, know not where to sleep. - - EMILIA. - -I am distressed. Ah, if all men were as well provided for as I am, that -would quench the thirst of wishing.—But I see a poor boy, perhaps he is -looking for a shelter. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Very possibly. - - -He shall sleep this night under a roof, said Emilia, as she ran to give -the boy something. I really pitied him, and gave him a trifle. The poor -fellow looked pleased. How happy are the rich that they can give to the -poor! - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXI. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Yesterday, when we returned home, we found Charles in the parlour -waiting for us, and ready to receive his father and mother, who soon -after arrived. He forgot the pain in his leg, and ran eagerly to meet -them; indeed he loves his parents. We were this night to sup with Sir -Charles and his Lady, a pleasure we do not often enjoy, as we go to bed -early: they retired to settle some business, and we were left alone -together while the cloth was laying. Emilia was just going to play us a -tune, when we heard some china fall. - - EDWARD. - -Ha! there it’s broke; what clumsy asses those are. - - CHARLES. - -But, Edward, do not find fault so hastily; you do not know yet what it -is, nor how it has happened. The name of ass suits not a man. - - EDWARD. - -I know it is in pieces; servants use things as if they cost nothing. - - CHARLES. - -I will go and see. I think the damage is not so great as you suppose. - - EDWARD. - -Now I will venture to lay you any wager, he will apologize for them. - - EMILIA. - -What then, he will do well; would not you be glad if you had done wrong -that he should apologize for you? He has often taken your part. - - EDWARD. - -You shall see, he will befriend them; and come in as if nothing had -happened. - - EMILIA. - -Charles never tells lies, though he is compassionate, and will not -aggravate a fault. - - EDWARD. - -Here he comes. One would think from his face, that he had done the -mischief. Well, Charles, what is it? Did I not guess right that it was -broke to pieces? - - CHARLES. - -It was, indeed, one of the best china plates; but why are you so angry? -the loss is not irreparable. - - EDWARD. - -If I was Lady Grandison, I would make them pay for it; it would teach -them to be more careful another time. - - CHARLES. - -That would be hard for a servant, who ought to gain by his service. But, -Edward, have you never had any accident—and are you sure you will always -be careful? - - EMILIA. - -Yes. If it was but pouring boiling water over a person; that is much -worse. - - EDWARD. - -Why do you trouble yourself about it? And, Charles, if you were a -master, would you let your servants break and destroy with impunity? - - CHARLES. - -I do not believe there are any servants who break things on purpose. It -is always by accident, and an accident should be excused. - - EDWARD. - -It is pure good-nature certainly. A careless servant will then with you -never do wrong. But my aunt, I think, ought to know what is broken. - - CHARLES. - -I intend to tell her; and to ask her to forgive the person who did it -through thoughtlessness. - - EDWARD. - -And the person was one of the servants, who was it? - - CHARLES. - -Suppose I should say you have done the mischief yourself? - - EDWARD. - -I—That is truly a fine story. - - CHARLES. - -Did you not take a plate off the sideboard to carry your dog some meat -on: and did you not leave it near the hall door on a chair? - - EDWARD. - -Yes. But what of that? - - CHARLES. - -The servant in the dark threw it down. - - EDWARD. - -And could I help that? How came he to go in the dark? - - EMILIA. - -That we all do very often. You are to blame, the plate was set in an -improper place; the servant could not imagine that it stood there. - - EDWARD. - -You are always prating, Miss.—But, Charles, my aunt need not hear of it, -she will not miss a plate. - - CHARLES. - -Edward!—ah Edward! you were in a hurry to inform her when you imagined -the blame would fall on another; but you are less eager now you must -bear the reproof yourself. Let this teach you not to be severe on -others, as this accident must convince you, that you are not faultless. -It is our own faults which make us so ready to mark the errors our -fellow-creatures run into. - - -The supper came in, and during the repast, Charles mentioned the -accident; and a slight caution from Lady Grandison concluded the -conversation. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Charles has played Emilia and me a fine trick this morning, dear mother. -Dr. Bartlett generally rises with the sun to take a walk before -breakfast; Charles, who was this morning just awake, heard him. He rose -softly out of bed, hurried on his clothes, and ran down to ask him, in -both our names, if we might go with him; to which he consented. It was -hardly light. Charles knocked at his sister’s chamber door, Emilia, -Emilia! are you still asleep, you little think it is almost ten o’clock. -Oh! cried Emilia, what shall I do? I am afraid my mama will be angry -with me. Come dress yourself quickly, said Charles, I will speak a good -word for you. Emilia was quickly dressed; she was ashamed of being so -lazy. - -In the mean while he came to me, and told me the same story. Eleven -o’clock—is it possible? But why did you not call me when you got up? And -how comes it to be so dark? Does it rain? That signifies nothing, he -replied, it will soon clear up. Come, make haste, I want to go to Dr. -Bartlett. Well, you would have laughed to have seen our astonishment, -when Emilia and I found it was but five o’clock. And we were very glad -we had a pleasant walk, and the following conversation. - - CHARLES. - -See there, our John and his son, already busy at their work. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -They rise with the sun, and begin their daily labour. - - CHARLES. - -Those people are certainly very laborious, and labour for little profit. -I pity them, their situation is hard. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Why, that little profit is sufficient to purchase content, if they are -not vicious. - - EMILIA. - -But it is tiresome to be obliged to work from morning till night. All -good men ought to be rich, I think. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -It would quite alter the nature of things. The strong and the weak must -then dig their own ground; and the ingenious would want a spur to assist -the stupid. We must all make our own clothes; manufactures and arts -would be no more—industry would languish, and life not only lose its -principal charms, but cease to be a probationary state, a field to -exercise virtue in, and exert benevolence. - - WILLIAM. - -That is true, Sir.—But may I ask you something? Does it not look as if -God, who has appointed men to work, had less love for them than the -rich? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Certainly not. God has an equal love for all, William, that are -virtuous. A labourer in his low station, and in his poor cottage, is -often happier than those who are exalted to high offices, and reside in -noble palaces. - - EMILIA. - -The rich have servants to wait on them, while the poor labourer must -continually work for his bread. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -They who serve themselves, are best served, my love, and labour is -healthful. - - EMILIA. - -What a slender table is provided for the poor man—and how hard is his -bed! - - DR. BARTLETT. - -It is so—and notwithstanding this, the poor eat their slender meal with -a better relish, than the great have for the rarest delicacies of their -tables. And they sleep sounder on their flock-beds than the rich on beds -of down. Happiness consists in being satisfied—that is the greatest -riches on earth. - - EMILIA. - -You make me easy, Sir. I understand it—God loves those men, and cares -for them as well as the rich. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Yes. God is the Father of the poorest wretch, who earns his bread by the -sweat of his brow; and he may call the greatest monarch brother: there -is no difference, except what arises from degrees of goodness. - - EMILIA. - -What fine cows.—They are very good to suffer themselves to be milked. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -You are mistaken, it is not goodness in those creatures; it is to the -wise order of God that all the praise belongs. The milk would be -burdensome to them, if we let them hold it, and for this reason they -generally come, at the usual hour, to the place where they are milked. - - WILLIAM. - -It is certainly very happy for men, that there are cows, for milk is a -great dainty. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -It is not only a dainty, but a useful necessary provision; without milk -we should have neither butter nor cheese. - - EMILIA. - -And the sheep—I love the sheep they are so gentle. - - CHARLES. - -And they are of great value. Their wool serves to clothe us—where should -we find warm covering for our beds if there were no sheep? - - WILLIAM. - -What a good God we have! - - EMILIA. - -We ought to love him, because he has created all these creatures for -us;—but I know not why we kill them, and then eat them up; it seems -cruel. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -By no means. They were designed for us, for our food; if we were to let -all the sheep live, they would soon grow so numerous they would die for -want of pasturage. - - EMILIA. - -Then men do right, when they kill them? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -It is necessary; and they do not foresee, or taste the bitterness of -death, if they are killed instantly.—Cruel, indeed, are those, who -torment them—they sin against their own souls—and they will be judged -without mercy who have not shewn any. He who is guilty of a cruel action -has sapped the foundation of content; and the monster, no longer humane, -enjoys not human comforts. Nor is he thoughtless, like the beasts of -prey; conscience haunts him—he cannot hide himself, nor find darkness -thick enough to conceal his crimes. - - -We now returned home, and found Sir Charles and his Lady already in the -breakfast parlour. We mentioned the trick Charles had played us, they -both laughed; but Sir Charles turned to him, I mean not gravely to -reprove you, my son, only to point out to you, that truth is so sacred a -thing it ought not to be jested with; lest a reverence for it should -imperceptibly wear away, and leave the mind, stripped of its most -beautiful ornament, to deck itself in gaudy rags. - -Farewel, dear mother, I will try to remember all these useful lessons; -and to strengthen my good resolutions by your advice, write often to -your - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXIII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -I must tell you of another walk which we had yesterday noon. The summer -will soon be over, we take our pleasure while the weather is fine; and -Dr. Bartlett says, we never can choose a more innocent diversion than a -walk. It was very warm, and to avoid the heat of the sun darting -directly over our heads, our friend conducted us to a wood, which is not -far from the house. Emilia remained at home with her mother, who was a -little indisposed; Emilia always cheerfully attends to her duty. But I -will communicate the subjects we talked about. - - CHARLES. - -How agreeable is the shade of the trees! - - DR. BARTLETT. - -True, Charles. The woods appear designed for our delight; we find here a -refreshing breeze in the heat of the day; and can think and talk, not -exhausted by the relaxing noon-tide beams. A stream, whose very sound is -cooling, renders the scene more tranquil; and the numerous songs, which -are poured forth from every spray, does not interrupt it; all is -peaceful. Do not overlook the variety of plants, which present -themselves to our view. - - CHARLES. - -And are all these plants of use, Sir? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -We cannot always trace the wisdom or the goodness of God; but, though -invisible, still it exists every where, and is ever active—gives harmony -to the birds, and healing powers to the plants which decorate the earth. - - CHARLES. - -So then, we cannot go one step but we find the goodness of God. Do the -woods and forests rise of themselves? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -No. Nothing arises of itself, but from seed. How the first seed was -sown, we know not; now it happens by chance, accidents which escape our -notice, or birds carry them from one place to another.——God worketh here -as in secret, and beauties are unexpectedly spread around, and surprise -the contemplative walker. - - CHARLES. - -Men, then, have all the pleasure which the woods afford, without much -trouble. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -But the advantage is even greater than the pleasure. Where should we go -if there was no wood? We could not cross the sea to visit distant -lands—we must remain on the spot where first we drew breath, without a -house or any useful furniture: and, in many countries, without fuel to -soften the rigors of the wintry season. - - CHARLES. - -But as we are every year, nay every day, destroying the wood, what will -be left for our posterity? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -You need not be afraid of that, my dear Charles, the world has now -continued for near six thousand years.—What wood we annually consume, is -again annually supplied by shoots; and thus the face of nature is -renewed—God takes care! - - -Charles thanked Dr. Bartlett for his instructions, and we returned—and -how happy am I, dear mother, that I can partake in these instructions. - -Charles has just been with me to shew me a canary-bird which he has -bought, he intends to tame it.—But I must not forget to tell you, -to-morrow is Charles’s birth-day. Edward thinks we shall have some -dainties; but Emilia says, she is sure her brother will not spend his -father’s present in such a way;—and I agree with her, and imagine he -will lay out his money in books, rather than dainties, which he seldom -seeks for. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXIV. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -You will wonder, my dear mother, at Charles; he did not buy books with -the money—but you shall hear all about it. His father came into his room -before he had finished his prayers, I was in the next room; I had said -mine, and waited for him to go with him to Dr. Bartlett. He rose hastily -when his father entered, who laid a paper on the table, and desired him -to conclude the sacred duty he was employed in, before he paid any -respect to his earthly father;—and saying so, he left the chamber. - -When Charles joined me he opened the paper, and found four guineas—he -paused a moment.—William, said he, I wish to have your opinion, we have -in our neighbourhood but few young people, we must have a dance, we all -love dancing, and we may be merry, without spending money in sweetmeats -and unnecessary dainties. Well then, said Charles, I will gratify my own -inclination: and immediately we joined the breakfast table. When we were -alone with Sir Charles, my friend addressed him, May I, Sir, do what I -please with the money you have given me? - - SIR CHARLES. - -Yes, certainly, I gave it you. - - CHARLES. - -Then I know who shall celebrate my birth-day, if you approve of it—and I -shall be quite happy if you consent. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Well, who? - - CHARLES. - -I have more money than I want, I will invite a few acquaintance not to -disappoint my sister and Edward, and indeed I do not wish to make a show -of self-denial, or to let all my acquaintance know that I give my money -to the poor. One guinea will be sufficient for the treat, and the other -three I will give to two poor families, to buy cloathing for their -children. How happy will these poor people be! all those I shall invite -have abundance, I do not desire they should admire my treat and call me -generous, when I should only be vain. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Can you suppose, my dear Charles, that I should disapprove of your -intention? You begin the year very well, and may expect the happiness -which flows from benevolence: it is an omen and a foretaste. - -Charles then modestly thanked his father, and I went with him to -distribute the money; afterwards we danced with a light heart, indeed we -had a pleasant evening.——While we were dancing, as Sir Charles passed by -his son, he whispered him, Pleasure is sweet when we do not sacrifice -our duty to purchase it. And as he repeated his blessing, when Charles -wished him a good night, he added, You have been happy, my son, because -you first thought of making others rejoice.—I shall not forget this -lesson, for I felt its force. I am sleepy, and yet I must tell you, that -while the company were refreshing themselves, Charles and I slipped -away, and hastened to the barn, and found the invited poor regaling -merrily; I cannot describe the pleasure that was pictured on every -countenance, but it has left a pleasing impression on my mind. The -people were so delighted with their good cheer, they did not -sufficiently attend to a poor blind man. Charles observed this neglect; -Father, said he, let me assist you, and he cut his meat for him. - -I find the treat was more acceptable to the poor than the rich—I will -ever try to recollect, that it is more delightful to give pleasure, than -excite admiration. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXV. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -We rode out yesterday, and had not the pleasure we expected. When we -left home the weather was fine; but the sky soon began to lower, and the -rain fell in large drops; we were obliged to gallop to a little -farm-house, and wait there till the storm was over. Edward was grumbling -all the way, and Emilia was low-spirited, and I own I was disappointed; -Charles looked so for a moment, but soon recollected himself. - - EDWARD. - -This is dreadful.—What a pity it is—the rain will prevent our enjoying -any pleasure. - - CHARLES. - -No; we can drink tea here, and return home when it clears up. - - EMILIA. - -That is not so pleasant. I wish it was fair now—I want to have a ride. - - CHARLES. - -You wish it was dry weather to pursue your ride to please yourself: and -our neighbour, the farmer, wished this morning for rain, because the -plants and grass are almost withered by the drought. Whose wish is most -rational? - - WILLIAM. - -The farmer’s, I think. - - CHARLES. - -Every day there are some parties of pleasure, and could the selfish wish -for fair weather prevail, our fields would soon lose their verdure, and -the corn cease to swell, till it becomes a laughing image of plenty. The -fruits would drop dry on the ground, and the flowers no longer perfume -the air. You will see how green every thing will look, and how sweet -they will smell as we return home. - - EMILIA. - -I will never impatiently complain of the rain again. - - EDWARD. - -And I still continue to wish it had not rained till night. - - CHARLES. - -They who have to travel to-night, would wish to put it off till -to-morrow. Whose wish is to be gratified? - - EMILIA. - -Charles is right. We are in God’s sight, no more than other men. - - WILLIAM. - -It is impossible to know what to wish for at all times. - - CHARLES. - -Believe me, Dr. Bartlett has convinced me, we should be miserable, if -God always gave us what we desire. And, dear sister, is our pleasure for -a day to be compared with the good that so many will experience from the -rain? - - EMILIA. - -But the poor birds, I pity them. - - CHARLES. - -They will take shelter if it is troublesome to them. Besides, their -feathers have a kind of oil in them, which hinders them from being wet. - - -As it did not seem likely to clear up, we seized the first moment, -between the showers, and hastened home. Charles gave his sister his -canary-bird, and she went to provide a cage for it. We diverted -ourselves; but Edward was out of humour; complained of the weather, and -tormented his poor dog. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXVI. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -I cannot forbear relating to you, my dear mother, what happened here -last night. We had scarcely been in bed half an hour, before we heard a -dreadful noise. What is that, said Charles? I do not know, answered I, -but I am afraid somebody is breaking into the house. We listened, and -the moment after heard Edward cry out. Charles jumped immediately out of -bed, and I followed him; he caught up the poker and the candle, and -lighted it at the lamp on the staircase. We almost flew to Edward’s -room, where the noise came from. Charles shewed not the least sign of -fear; but I could not help trembling exceedingly. Coming into Edward’s -chamber we found him lying on the ground, and the table fallen topsy -turvy, and all the books and things on the floor. What has happened? -asked Charles. Heaven knows; but I am terribly frightened, replied -Edward. We both eagerly enquired how he came on the ground, and why he -had cried out so dreadfully? - - EDWARD. - -You would probably have cried out too—I do not know how I got out of -bed—this room is haunted. - - CHARLES. - -You frightened me at first; but now I must laugh. Poor William was -almost frightened to death; I will go and look for a bottle of wine, it -is proper you should both take a glass. - - EDWARD. - -Do not go alone!—call one of the servants. - - CHARLES. - -Let the servants sleep; I could not call them without disturbing my -mother, and I would avoid doing that, as there is not any real cause for -fear. - - WILLIAM. - -And dare you go alone? - - CHARLES. - -Why not, my friend, I am sure there are no thieves in the house. - - EDWARD. - -I have as much courage as he—yet, William, I would not go down. Hush! -pray listen—do you hear any thing? Here comes Charles—what have you -seen? Surely, you must have met something. - - CHARLES. - -Yes; I have seen the stairs, the dining-room, and this bottle and glass. -Come on, let us drink each a glass, and it will give us courage to wait -for the apparition. - - EDWARD. - -I beg you will not make game of it. - - CHARLES. - -And why not?—It is only at apparitions I laugh. - - WILLIAM. - -Why, do you believe that there are no apparitions? - - CHARLES. - -Indeed I do not give credit to the stories I have been told lately; my -father would never allow such subjects to be mentioned when I was a -child. But, Edward, tell me now what made you so suddenly get out of -bed? - - EDWARD. - -An apparition, I tell you, Charles. - - CHARLES. - -Perhaps you were dreaming? - - EDWARD. - -A likely story truly—I think I know when I am awake. - - CHARLES. - -And what did you see then? - - EDWARD. - -I had just put out my candle, and before I could fall asleep, I plainly -heard something run across the chamber. I then started up in bed and saw -in the farther corner two lights, they moved about, and sometimes -appeared very small and then glared like large balls. - - CHARLES. - -That was certainly no more than a glittering in your eyes. - - EDWARD. - -What?—What I saw so clearly?—I then kept myself quite still—the light -vanished, and I heard a great bounce against the door. - - WILLIAM. - -I should have been frightened, I am sure. - - EDWARD. - -I was so terrified I could not call for a light, I sunk into the bed and -covered my head; but I had not remained many moments, scarcely daring to -breathe, when I heard a light foot-step coming towards the side of my -bed next the wall;—I ventured to peep—and saw, indeed I did, a great -white apparition, which grew bigger and bigger as it approached:—I know -not what I did—I jumped out of the other side of the bed, knocked down -the table, and screamed out.—But hush, I hear a noise. - - CHARLES. - -I will lay a wager it is a rat that has hid itself. - - EDWARD. - -A rat is not white. - - CHARLES. - -Let us search, something it must be; a spirit cannot make a noise. - - -Charles then looked in every corner of the room, behind the -clothes-press, and the bureau. He then called out, there is the -apparition, Edward, I have found it at last. And what was it, do you -think? A great white cat which generally lives in the stable. We all -laughed, in particular Edward; but, said he, I cannot imagine how the -cat could make such a noise, and look so big. - - CHARLES. - -Your fear magnified it; when we are terrified, we seldom see things as -they really are. The lights, which were the cat’s eyes, so dazzled -yours, you imagined them to be balls of fire. - - -We then went to bed and slept very sound till the morning. - -We related the whole affair when we were at breakfast, and after Sir -Charles had commended his son, he added, This may teach you all not to -be terrified, but to enquire into things; and believe me, many causes, -which at first appeared very alarming, will vanish, or only resemble the -white cat. While God, the great Spirit, takes care of us, can phantoms -harm us? He will support all those who trust in him—fear him—and you may -banish every other fear. You may be certain, all the stories you have -heard, took their rise from terror; a timid disturbed imagination -created the spectre, or swelled some slight reality into one: none had -the courage to search for the truth, or it eluded the search. - -I shall never forget this incident, dear mother; I recollect what -Charles said, a spirit cannot make a noise. The stories I have been told -in Holland, I now think foolish; the tall woman, who walked in the grove -at night, and the white monster, almost as high as the steeple, and many -others of the same kind, I am sure would be found, on enquiry, to -resemble the tale of the white cat, which Edward would have told, if -Charles had not dragged the supposed spirit from its hiding place. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXVII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Yesterday, after we had finished our exercises, Charles asked me to take -a walk in the garden, and, seeing Dr. Bartlett, we hastened to join him; -for indeed we both like to hear him talk, and try to profit by his -instructions, which are delivered in such a familiar manner, I forget -that I am but a boy when he calls me his friend. We found him with a -book in his hand. - - CHARLES. - -You are reading, Sir, we will not disturb you. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -When I have finished the passage I am reading, I shall be glad of your -company. - -We waited silent a few moments, and then Dr. Bartlett put his book into -his pocket, and we entered into conversation. - - CHARLES. - -Look, Sir, what insects are those which fly in such multitudes about the -fish-pond? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -They are ants. - - WILLIAM. - -Have ants wings? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Yes, they obtain wings for some time during this season of the year. And -what appears the most wonderful, is, that they are thus winged in a very -few moments. - - CHARLES. - -It is a pity that these insects are so destructive to the productions of -the earth, I like them so well for their diligence. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -When they are together, they are as one family. They build themselves a -city, which is divided into several streets. They have each of them -separate employments; one digs a hole in the earth, another sweeps the -earth away, and a third brings grass or stubble to make the hole warm -and dry, that they may preserve their eggs and their young from the cold -and damp. Their labour to provide themselves food is wonderful: they are -so industrious they will go to a great distance for it, and returning, -always keep in a direct road, seldom mistaking it, though far from their -own habitation. They take great care not to run in each others way; and -are so very sagacious, that when they are obliged to carry any thing -very heavy, from an eminence, they let it fall with deliberation, and -take it up again when they arrive at the bottom. - - CHARLES. - -But, Sir, I have often seen that they are continually moving their young -and their eggs.—Why do they disturb them so frequently? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -They do this, when they find it either damp or cold; for they take -uncommon care of their little ones. After rain they bring their eggs -into the open air to let them dry, lest the young, which are in them, -should perish; and if the rain is very heavy they remove the earth with -their feet, and cover them. - - WILLIAM. - -Poor creatures!—We give them, thoughtlessly, much unnecessary trouble. - - CHARLES. - -They are very injurious, and their use is not apparent;—why then did God -create them? I should think there must be some hidden reason, which we -cannot dive into, or even get a glance to direct our search. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -You do well to reason in this manner. Who can pretend to fathom the -secrets of the Most High, or circumscribe his ways? All that is -necessary to direct our search after virtue, is found by those, who seek -for it, as for hid treasure: questions, that mere wanton curiosity -dictates, are left doubtful, or discovered by chance. The knowledge of -them is not essential to our earthly comfort; though modest enquiries -into the operations of nature, will ennoble our minds, and raise us -above grovelling pursuits. We must first labour for the one thing -needful:—if we are good here, we shall be wiser hereafter. - - CHARLES. - -I will try to remember what you have said, Sir. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -But speaking of the ants brings to my remembrance some other creatures, -that are still more skilful, I mean the beavers. How would you both be -astonished, could I show you the habitations these wonderful creatures -make! No experienced builder could form them better. They first choose a -very healthful situation, and where there is plenty of provision, near a -fresh stream of water; and then raise an eminence with great labour and -dispatch. For this purpose they dig out the earth and clay with their -fore feet, and carry their burdens on their tails (which nature has made -a little hollow like a shovel) to the place they have chosen for their -abode. With their teeth they cut with great expedition through trees as -thick as my arm; and these piles they work into the ground to form a -firm foundation. Then they begin to build a house, which consists of -three stories, one above another; the walls are perpendicular, and more -than a foot thick. It is within very neat, of a round form, and has an -arched roof. The size in proportion to the number of the family that is -to reside in it: for example, they allow fourteen or fifteen feet for -twelve beavers. What think you of such creatures? - - CHARLES. - -I am astonished, Sir; I wish I could once see these architects. In what -country are they to be found? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -They are to be found in Germany, and in Poland, along the rivers; but -chiefly in Canada. - - WILLIAM. - -May I ask what sort of creatures these are? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -They are amphibious; so we name those creatures which can live either on -land or in the water. The head is larger than a rat’s; their fore feet -are short, and with these they hold fast their food; their hind feet are -long, and with a web betwixt the claws, like the ducks; and their tails -are flat and finny, and assist them to swim with more ease than they -could do, if they only used their feet for that purpose. - - CHARLES. - -But of what materials do they build the thick walls of their houses? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -They mix and knead together, with their fore feet, clay, earth and -water; and their tails serve first as a mortar-tray to carry it, and -then as a trowel to plaister it on in a proper manner. - - CHARLES. - -It is wonderful! But can these skilful creatures work without the least -reflection? - - DR. BARTLETT. - -They have not thinking powers, of course they cannot deliberate about -it. God has created them with a certain ability or instinct to direct -them infallibly. Man is a superior animal, he only in this world is -endued with the noble power of reflection. - - CHARLES. - -This preference demands our gratitude. - - DR. BARTLETT. - -Certainly, my dear, demands our utmost diligence to cultivate the -precious gift. We ought never to speak or act without reflection, and -our whole conduct should be conformable to the wise designs of the -Creator:—this is the only way to make ourselves worthy of our dignity. -The Doctor then left us. - - -I preserve in my mind all these good instructions, dear mother; never, -no never, shall I forget them. And as God has made us capable of -reasoning, if we abuse this goodness, and act without understanding, we -are not above the senseless brutes. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXVIII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Oh! my dear mother, poor Emilia had yesterday such a dreadful accident. -I do pity her, I never before saw her cry so bitterly. Charles and I -were amusing ourselves, working in our little garden; Emilia came -running to us sobbing; but you shall hear all. - - EMILIA. - -My dear brother—I am so sorry. - - CHARLES. - -Tell me on what account? You astonish me; has any thing befallen my -father or mother? - - EMILIA. - -No, no.— But I am afraid to tell you; it will vex you. - - CHARLES. - -Tell it me directly; if I may know it. - - EMILIA. - -The cat has eat my sweet canary-bird. I did love it—you gave it me, it -sung so charmingly, and was so tame. - - CHARLES. - -It is a pity, I acknowledge; but you are not to grieve for the loss of a -bird, as if you had lost a parent. You have lost a plaything, not a -friend; it gave you pleasure, excited your tenderness, but without -esteem affection soon dies: any new favourite will supply its place. - - WILLIAM. - -You took such care of it, how could it happen? - - EMILIA. - -I had, as I often did, let the bird out of the cage to eat out of my -hand. My mamma sent for me, I went to her for a moment, and in the mean -time, the maid had let the cat slip into the chamber, who instantly -seized and devoured my poor little creature. I shall never forgive -myself for not putting it into its cage. And as to the careless maid, I -hope my mother will soon part with her. - - CHARLES. - -She did not do it on purpose, I am sure; and, Emilia, your carelessness -was more inexcusable because you loved the bird. - - EMILIA. - -Let us then look for the cat and beat her. - - CHARLES. - -And why? The cat cannot help it, it is its nature to catch birds and -mice; you would correct her for following an instinct which renders her -a useful domestic. If you had beat her the very moment after the -accident, it might have restrained her in future; but by this time she -has forgot it, and consequently it would be cruel. You cannot get your -bird again by indulging a spirit of revenge; you must console yourself. - - EMILIA. - -I am almost inconsolable—I wish there were no cats in the world. - - CHARLES. - -That wish is wrong, sister. God knew best when he created them. We -should find the rats and mice very troublesome and mischievous; but for -the assistance of a cat, how should we preserve our grain? - - EMILIA. - -I shall never forget my sweet little bird. - - CHARLES. - -Not forget a creature without sense! after all, there are more -canary-birds. - - EMILIA. - -Not so tame. - - CHARLES. - -I will endeavour to get you another, which shall be just as tame. - - EMILIA. - -You are very good, brother; but that bird loved me, it would follow me -about the room. - - CHARLES. - -It had no love for you, believe me; it was only not afraid of you: it -followed you because you fed it. - - EMILIA. - -Had it died a natural death, I should soon have forgotten it; but such -an unfortunate end vexes me. - - CHARLES. - -Another death might have been harder; the cat caught it instantly, and -not through the wires of the cage. - - EMILIA. - -Think you so, then I am content, and forgive the cat.—She then left us. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XXXIX. - _Mrs._ D—— _to_ WILLIAM. - - -You are a comfort to me, my son, and Annette deserves my tender -affection, she is so tractable and good. Your letters improve and please -her; she requests me to read them twenty times over, that she may -remember them. The tears were in her eyes when I read what you had -written concerning the canary-bird. Poor Emilia, said she, how I do pity -her. It gives me pleasure, replied I, that you participate in your -friend’s grief; it is a sign that you have a good heart, and deserve the -sympathy of others: mutual affection is necessary, it softens -affliction. Indeed I have experienced it, mamma, answered she, that is, -I have never been so much vexed at any thing, when I saw somebody pitied -me, as when they laughed at me.—And I love those people who have -compassion, they look so good-natured. - -But, William, I must give you a caution. The beginning of your letter -was too alarming, it startled me; I thought at least that Emilia had -been dreadfully hurt; if she had lost an eye or a limb it could not have -shocked me more. You might have expressed your pity, as she was grieved, -but not in such terms; what other words could you have used, had she -lost her mother? Learn in future, when a thing of the same kind occurs, -to be more cautious how you write, and do not confound proper feelings; -nor even the expressions, which should convey to others a notion of what -passes in your mind. - -I send you by this opportunity, some pocket-money, I wish I could afford -to send you more, as you deserve it; for Lady Grandison informs me, that -you are very careful, and try to make your clothes last long. In you -this attention is a virtue, as you do it not only to spare your mother, -whose circumstances are confined, but to have money to give to the poor. -The œconomy and self-denial, which flows from such motives, is so -laudable, that I hope the foolish sneers of thoughtless young people, -will never make you think yourself mean-spirited, as they will call you: -those only can be called mean, in the true sense of the word, who save -to gratify their appetites. Write often, your conversations please me, -and I mentioned before, that they improved Annette. - - D. - - - - - LETTER XL. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -I must give you another proof of the virtue and wisdom of my friend -Charles. Yesterday, when we had done our lessons, for we never neglect -them, we went to the wood, to take our pleasure, and found it very -pleasant; but the thickness of the trees prevented our seeing a heavy -storm that was approaching, till a violent peal of thunder made us jump. -Emilia is very much afraid of thunder. - - EMILIA. - -Brother, it thunders—what shall I do? - - CHARLES. - -Do not terrify yourself, there is no cause for fear; it is only the -natural consequence of great heat, and the weather lately has been very -warm. We will return home, it is right to leave the trees, they attract -the lightning. - - EMILIA. - -I dare not stir—O if I was but in the house, in the cellar! - - CHARLES. - -And what would you do in the cellar, is it not God who directs the -storm? - - EMILIA. - -Yes. - - CHARLES. - -Then he can preserve you every where; here, in the house, or the cellar, -it is all the same; but still we are to exercise our reason while we -trust in God: let us then leave the trees, they are dangerous. - - EMILIA. - -But who can tell that God will preserve me? - - CHARLES. - -Does he not give you daily proofs of his favour? You would be miserable -if he did not guard you. Where would you be safe? There is no need of a -storm to destroy us, we are every moment in danger, if we lose his -protection. A chimney, or only a tile may fall on us from a house:—there -are a thousand things which we have reason to be afraid of, if we fear -any. Dr. Bartlett says, he only fears offending God. - - EDWARD. - -You are a foolish girl, to be afraid of thunder. Come let us play and -sing, then the noise will not reach us. - - CHARLES. - -No, we can play and sing, when the storm is over. It is not now the time -when God lets us see such an astonishing token of his almighty Power—let -us view the tempest with reverence. - - EMILIA. - -Oh, what a loud clap of thunder! May not that be a sign that God is -angry with us? - - CHARLES. - -No surely. This stormy weather is a blessing; it is of use to purify the -air: the heat of the summer would, without these concussions, occasion a -great many contagious disorders. Emilia, be easy, God loves us, we every -day receive proofs of it; let us trust in him, as we trust our -parents;—we cannot doubt their love, and have we less reliance on our -heavenly Father? - - EMILIA. - -Come, let us hasten into the house; my father said once, it was -dangerous to look at the lightning. - - CHARLES. - -Except an extraordinary flash, it has much the same effect as when you -look at the sun, the sight is immediately dimmed. - - EDWARD. - -Do not go home, how can you be so foolish? - - CHARLES. - -Though I do not fear the storm myself, I would not be so ill-natured as -to oblige Emilia to stand trembling here. I would avoid, without -despising her weakness. It is weak to be afraid, but impious to mock the -storm. - - -We then hastened home; and soon after the sky cleared up, and I quickly -saw that the thunder had been of use; the air was cool, and every herb -and flower revived, the garden was more fragrant than usual. - -I thank you, dear mother, for the money you have sent me. You say it is -little, but I think it much. My thanks are due to you, for I am certain -you scarcely allow yourself necessaries, to enable me to appear properly -in this family; I feel your goodness, and will do my utmost to improve -by the opportunity, and always remember the sacrifice my mother has -made, and the affection she has ever shewn me. Dr. Bartlett frequently -mentions this circumstance, when we are alone; but my memory does not -need refreshing—I love my mother, and long to tell her that I am her -grateful and dutiful son. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XLI. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Judge of the good heart of Emilia; an accident yesterday made it appear -to advantage. She was in the parlour with Edward, playing on the -harpsicord; after she had finished the tune, she went to look for a -china flower-pot in a china-closet near the parlour. She found what she -wanted; but still loitered, looking at the china; and one jar she would -reach from a high shelf, though Edward cautioned her: the consequence -was, it fell out of her hand, and was dashed to pieces. She trembled, -well knowing it was a jar of great value. - - EDWARD. - -Mighty well, you would look at the china. - - EMILIA. - -Do not scold me, I am so sorry; rather give me your advice. - - EDWARD. - -I can give you no advice; if you sought every where you could not find -such another jar to match the one which is left. Why did you touch it? -you must always be meddling, you are so curious. - - EMILIA. - -I will never be curious again, I assure you. I know I have done wrong. - - EDWARD. - -Now hear me, do not cry; I will tell you what you may do. Nobody has -heard it, we will take the pieces and put them together behind a dish; -and to-morrow, all of a sudden, you may say you have heard something -fall in the closet; then go and look, and Lady Grandison will think the -cat threw it down, or some other accident made it fall. - - EMILIA. - -No, Edward,—that I will never do; it would be much worse than breaking -it through idle curiosity. - - EDWARD. - -What will you do then? your mother will be displeased. - - EMILIA. - -I would sooner bear her displeasure a week, than tell such a falsehood. -Hear me, I will go to her, confess my fault; and indeed I shall be more -careful for the future. - - -She then ran trembling to her mother; but how was she astonished, when -the good Lady spoke kindly to her. If you had broken all my china by -accident, my child, I should not have chid you; your foolish curiosity -was blameable; but your attention to truth has more than atoned for it: -I find I can rely on your veracity. She kissed her mother’s hand, and -returned to tell us what had happened. Edward looked ashamed, and said, -he would never advise such an artifice again, he should not like to -deceive such a kind Lady, or lose her good opinion. Charles could not -help saying, when we tell a lie we offer an affront to God. Dr. Bartlett -often observes, he is ever present, and abhors a liar. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XLII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Oh! my dear mother, we are all here full of anxiety; Charles, who went -very early this morning on horseback, with one of the servants, to pay -Mr. Friendly a visit, and promised to return early, is not yet come -home; and it is past nine o’clock. He was always punctual—some -misfortune must have befallen him.—I do not know what to think, or fear. -The night is very dark, and the weather stormy. Sir Charles has just -sent off a servant to obtain some information:—how we all long for his -return! - -Eleven o’clock. The servant is come back; but no intelligence of -Charles. He left Mr. Friendly’s soon after dinner, about four o’clock. -Dear mother, where can he be? Drowned, I fear:—perhaps—perhaps what? I -am afraid even to write the strange thoughts and conjectures which come -into my head—I never seemed so much alive before, my soul feels as if it -would fly out of my body to search for Charles—dear Charles! Lady -Grandison sits silent; Emilia does nothing but cry; and Edward runs -through the house quite frantic: Sir Charles endeavours to comfort his -Lady, and has need of comfort himself. He has sent several servants -different ways, and waits impatiently for day-break, when he intends -going himself.—O that he would take me with him! - -One o’clock, and no news of Charles. We are none of us in bed—and indeed -who could sleep! My eyes feel as if they would never close again—I -cannot cry. - -Half after four. Thank Heaven—Charles is safe. The servant, who attended -him, is just arrived. It was not his fault, that we had so much -uneasiness; no pleasure—no company detained him.—But Sir Charles insists -on it, that we go to bed for a few hours. I cannot sleep, though I must -go to bed.—I do not want sleep, Charles is safe. Why does my joy make me -cry? I did not weep when I thought I should never, O never see him -more.—Well, I must go to this same bed.—Good morning to you, Madam. I -declare the birds are beginning to sing—how can I sleep? - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XLIII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Now you shall hear the servant’s account—I long to tell you all about an -affair, which is to clear my friend;—for a moment you must not think ill -of him. - -Charles set out from Mr. Friendly’s soon after dinner, Harry, his man, -of course attended him. The weather had been all day lowering; they -quickened their pace; but such a thick mist arose gradually, they could -scarcely see two yards before them. Charles, though he is very -courageous, shewed some signs of fear, and they then rode slowly, -observing every step, when they saw at some little distance, a man lying -in the middle of the road. What is that? said Charles, holding-in his -horse. A man who has drank more than he ought, I suppose, answered -Harry. Pray, Sir, ride a little quicker, it grows late. No, replied -Charles, for if the man is drunk, we must endeavour to help him out of -the highway, or he may be rode over in the dark. Saying so, he jumped -off his horse: but how terrifying was the sight!—He saw an old officer -lying weltering in his blood. He spoke to him; but received no answer. -The gentleman is dead, cried Harry. No, no, interrupted Charles, he has -only fainted through loss of blood. What shall we do? What can we do? -replied Harry. Let us gallop on to the first village to procure -assistance. What, and leave the man bleeding, said Charles, with warmth; -he would die before we could even reach the village.—Do you not see how -he bleeds? Tie our horses fast to that tree, and make haste to assist -me, I must not let a man die without doing my best to save him. He then -pulled off his clothes, and tore his shirt; and finding that the wound -was in the head, he wiped away the gore, and bound the linen round it; -he did it several times before he could stop the effusion. After the -operation, they lifted him cautiously, and laid him on the grass, near -the road side. Good heavens, said Harry, it begins to be quite dark, and -the mist is so thick, we shall never be able to find our way; and how -uneasy they will all be at home. O that is true, said Charles; come, let -us go.—And he advanced a step or two; but turning his eyes on the poor -officer, they filled with tears, and he stood thinking half a moment—and -then burst out.—No, I cannot, will not leave you in this condition; I do -not occasion the uneasiness my parents will feel to gratify myself; I -ought not to deliberate a moment: ride on directly to the next village, -or to the first cottage you spy, and prevail on some man to return with -you; and all together we may carry this poor man to a shelter, and -procure further help. - - HARRY. - -I dare not leave you here alone, your father would never forgive me. - - CHARLES. - -Heaven will preserve me; and as to the blame, I will take care it shall -not fall on you. I tell you, if you will not go, I will go myself. - - -Harry did not wait to expostulate any more, but did as he was ordered; -and fortunately soon reached a little farm-house, which they might have -seen from the road, had it been a clear night. He went in and told the -case to the man who lived there, and begged him and his son immediately -to go with him. The farmer at first seemed reluctant, he was tired, and -just preparing to go to bed, after a hard day’s work; but when Harry -told him he should be well recompensed, he fetched a sort of handbarrow, -and laid a mattrass on it, and followed to the place. Before they -reached it, Charles had the satisfaction to see the officer open his -eyes, and come gradually to himself; and looking wistfully at Charles, -he said, falteringly, Who are you, young man, who thus alone, this -dismal night, supports my wounded head? Did you bind this linen round my -temples? I have been so happy, replied Charles, as to arrive in time to -be of service to you; I had a servant with me, but I have sent him for -further assistance, that you may be removed to some house. What -reflection, what fortitude! faintly cried the weak man.—Do not exhaust -yourself, Sir, interrupted Charles; I have only done my duty—indeed my -heart bled for you, I could not have left you. Harry and the men that -moment joined them; they all assisted, and laid the officer on the -handbarrow; but the fatigue was too much for him, and he fainted again -through weakness. They walked very slow, and at length brought him into -the cottage; and Charles sent the farmer for a surgeon. And what is now -your intention? asked Harry. To stay here this night, replied Charles; I -cannot think of leaving this venerable old man with strangers, who do -not seem the most humane people in the world. Do you hasten home, and -tell them what has happened, and then I shall wait with comfort till -to-morrow, and see myself that the poor man is properly attended—I will -be his nurse. Harry was not willing to leave him; but he spoke in such a -positive tone of voice, Harry thought it vain to attempt to dissuade -him; so, much against his inclination, he rode away; and would certainly -have relieved us soon from all our anxiety, if the thick fog, and his -vexation together, had not made him lose, or mistake the short by-road, -which leads directly through the wood to the house; he wandered about -till the first peep of dawn, and then entered the parlour trembling. We -had all our eyes and mouths open, ready to catch the news—and we began -to ask so many questions in a breath, Sir Charles was obliged to command -silence, that we might hear the account. He praised the servant, gave -him a guinea, and desired him to go to bed for an hour or two, and then -come to him, before he returned to his son, to whom he would send a -message, and some money to enable him to pay the surgeon, and supply the -wants of the invalide. - -But how will the tender heart of my friend suffer, when he hears what we -have endured. Lady Grandison went to bed very ill; but, I hope, she is -now better; I have not seen her this morning. I long to know if the poor -officer is alive or dead. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XLIV. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -We have Charles here again, dear mother. O how rejoiced was I to see -him! The old officer is better, and we are all happy. - -We sat down cheerfully this morning to breakfast, and did not then -expect to see him. Emilia saw him first, she flew from her chair; there -is my dear brother Charles! cried she, and ran to meet him as quick as -possible. They came into the house hand in hand; but Charles let his -sister’s hand go, as he entered the room, and ran to his father.—I will -relate the conversation word for word. - - CHARLES. - -Can you forgive me, dear father, for having caused you so much -uneasiness? - - SIR CHARLES. - -Let me embrace you—you are dearer to me than ever; our uneasiness was -not your fault, you have done your duty to your fellow-creature without -forgetting your parents. How is the gentleman you have assisted? - - CHARLES. - -The officer is better, but still very weak. - - LADY GRANDISON. - -But, my dear, is he alone in that cottage? Will they take proper care of -him? - - CHARLES. - -I have not left him alone with them, his own son is now with him. As -soon as the old gentleman recovered his recollection, he mentioned his -place of abode, which was not very distant. I sent to inform his -children of the accident; and his eldest son set off immediately, and -soon arrived at the cottage. When I had committed him into the hands of -his son, I was eager to return home to my parents. - - SIR CHARLES. - -You were right, your presence was not then necessary; but has the poor -man means to provide himself with what is requisite in his weak state? - - CHARLES. - -Yes, I enquired, and find he is in very good circumstances. Did I do -right, Sir? I only rewarded the farmer, and gave Harry a trifle: and now -I will return the remainder of the money you sent me. - - SIR CHARLES. - -You may keep it, and distribute it as you please. I am now treating you -like a friend—a man; I allow you to exercise, according to the dictates -of your own heart, the noblest priviledge of our nature, that of doing -good: and do it often in secret, let the plaudit of your own heart, be -your only recompense. - - LADY GRANDISON. - -How did you pass the night? Did you sleep at all? - - CHARLES. - -Believe me, I thought little of myself, I had before me a dying old -man—I could think of nothing else. I desired some clean straw to be -laid, near the sick man’s bed, but I made no use of it. My uneasiness on -your account, and my painful anxiety for the officer, banished sleep -from my eyes. - - EMILIA. - -Poor Charles, to be obliged to sleep on straw. - - CHARLES. - -I should have slept on that as well as in my bed, if my heart had been -at ease. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Charles is right; it is peace of mind and health of body which procures -that refreshing sleep so necessary to recruit our exhausted powers. The -softest bed will not afford rest to a troubled mind, or a disordered -body. - - EDWARD. - -Who knows, when I am in the army, how many nights I may be obliged to -sleep on the ground, without even the straw Emilia despises. - - SIR CHARLES. - -That may happen; and before young people make choice of a profession, -they should arm themselves against the inconveniences, which -consequently attend it: always remembering, that every state of life has -its pains and pleasures. Every station is eligible, and will afford us -heart-felt joy, if we fill it conscientiously: it is about our conduct, -not our situation, that we should bestow most thought; and be more -anxious to avoid evil than pain. - - EDWARD. - -I dare say, the king himself has his cares and sorrows as well as the -meanest of his subjects. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Certainly. He is a man, none are exempt; God is no respecter of persons; -they please him, who do good, and attend to truth: it matters not -whether it be in a palace, or a mud hovel. - - -When we were alone, Charles said, I knew my father would not be -displeased with me; yet if it had been possible, I wished not only to -have spared him the anxiety my absence occasioned, but to have asked his -advice. I followed the impulse of my heart—yet I do it with more -pleasure, when his sanction assures me my feelings do not lead my reason -astray. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XLV. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -I have another proof to give you, my honoured mother, of the goodness of -heart Charles continually exhibits. A gentleman, who visits very -frequently this family, made him a present of a beautiful spaniel; young -Falkland, our neighbour, had often asked for it; but the gentleman -refused to give him it, because he treats his own dogs cruelly. You must -know, Falkland has already five dogs, besides cats, pigeons, and a -parrot. These afford him his chief employment; not to make them happy, -but to please himself. Though he has so many, he was very much vexed -that he could not get this dog. And what do you think happened? The dog -died suddenly, and we have by chance discovered that Falkland made one -of his servants poison the poor animal.—What monsters there are in the -world! Yes, he must be a monster, I think, who deprives another of a -pleasure when he receives no benefit from it himself. But the following -conversation, when we were walking in the garden, soon after the -discovery, will let you see how Charles behaves, even when he is angry. - - WILLIAM. - -I cannot help grieving about the poor dog. - - CHARLES. - -I acknowledge I am very sorry; I did not think that the loss of a dog -would have affected me in such a manner;—but it was a very faithful -one—and then the horrid agonies it endured—I cannot forget its groans. - - EDWARD. - -It was a villainous action of Falkland to destroy that poor beast in -such a manner.—If it had happened to me, I could never forgive him. - - CHARLES. - -I can.—If I could not forgive him, I should be as wicked as himself. - - EDWARD. - -You are too good. I, for my part, hate him. - - CHARLES. - -I do not hate him, but I despise his vices;—and I pity him, for it is -much to be feared he will become a bad man; an envious cruel heart -seldom reforms itself, Dr. Bartlett says. - - EDWARD. - -Yesterday you called that treacherous fellow friend;—you see you are -sometimes mistaken. - - CHARLES. - -I am apt to be mistaken in this particular; it is so pleasant to love -and think well of people. - - EDWARD. - -But will you any longer keep up the acquaintance? - - CHARLES. - -No, certainly, without my father desires it; I should with difficulty -conceal my dislike—it was such a mean action. - - EDWARD. - -Bravo! Now you speak to my mind; and, if you like it, I will give him a -good drubbing.—Say yes, and I will make his bones ache. - - CHARLES. - -That would not give me back my poor dog. - - EDWARD. - -I will tell you what—he has five dogs, let us poison some of them; that -he deserves at least. - - CHARLES. - -But those poor dogs—what have they done? - - EDWARD. - -I am curious to know, what my uncle will say of this pretty trick; he -has always spoken slightingly of young Falkland. - - CHARLES. - -That is a sign he could penetrate into his mind, and saw his bad temper. -I will, in future, pay more attention to his advice, and observations on -characters. But now I think of it, Edward, we will not tell my father -that Falkland poisoned my dog. Let us try to make him feel ashamed, by -shewing him we despise revenge—I should like to mortify him this way. - - WILLIAM. - -You are very generous. - - CHARLES. - -Let us talk of something else—my dog is dead, I will try to make myself -easy—I wish I could forget the torments it endured.—It is a very fine -evening. - - EDWARD. - -Look, look! What do I see yonder in that tree? - - WILLIAM. - -It is a parrot. - - EDWARD. - -How fortunate!—It is Falkland’s parrot; it has flown away from him, and -perched itself there: it looks frightened. How vexed he will be—he -should not have that creature again for ten guineas. - - CHARLES. - -How the poor creature trembles.—I can climb softly up the tree and catch -it;—do not make a noise. - - EDWARD. - -And so you will send it to Falkland again, to please him. - - CHARLES. - -No, for something else. - - EDWARD. - -He has killed your dog, and you will allow his favourite parrot to live -when it is in your power. I think it mean-spirited.—Can you have a -better opportunity to revenge yourself on that rascal? - - CHARLES. - -Yes, I can take a more noble revenge; by returning good for evil, I -shall let him see how much I am his superior: and that will highly -gratify me. - - -Immediately Charles mounted the tree, and caught the bird, whose feet -were entangled in the branches. He then sent it by a servant to -Falkland—and returned to us with a smiling face; I hardly ever saw so -much satisfaction in his countenance: and when Edward still continued to -laugh at him, he replied, I felt pleasure in returning good for evil, my -pride impelled me to act thus, as well as a sense of duty; I do not -pretend to any great merit in conquering one feeling to gratify another, -but I should have been inexcusable if I had tormented an innocent -helpless bird, merely to vex a being I despise. Nay, my anger would have -been mean and selfish; I should only resent the loss of my dog, and not -feel indignation on account of the vices this loss has forced me to -discover in a character I was partial to. I shall forget my dog, long -before I shall be able to drive from my remembrance a cruel action done -by a fellow-creature. Charles looked teased, and Edward ceased to blame -him,—and I tried to amuse him. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XLVI. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -We had yesterday a whole day of pleasure, gathering the winter fruits. -The gardener and his son climbed into the high trees, and plucked the -apples and pears from the heavy laden branches; and we held the baskets -to save them from being bruised, for those that fall to the ground will -not keep. Some country girls had been observing our employment; and one -of them spoke to Harry, eagerly looking at the apples. - - CHARLES. - -What does that girl want? - - HARRY. - -She desires me to ask you for some apples for a sick mother; and I know -the poor woman has been a long time ill. - - CHARLES. - -For a sick mother?—she is a good child, go give her as many as she can -carry; let her have some for herself as well as her mother. - - HARRY. - -Shall I give her some of these small ones, which are not of a very good -kind? - - CHARLES. - -How—would you give the sick what is not good? No, she shall have some of -them I gathered just now; they grew on my own tree, and the branches -were bent down with the weight of the fruit. My tree never bore so much -before; let me give part of my abundance to those who have none. - - EDWARD. - -I do not blame you, Charles; but those common people are always asking -for something. - - CHARLES. - -If they did not ask they would seldom get any thing. Dear Edward, we ask -daily of God; permit then at least that those industrious people ask of -us, who are made of the same materials, and in whose veins the same -blood flows. It is as much our duty to spare part of our superfluities -to relieve their accidental distress; as it is theirs to work to supply -their daily wants. - - EMILIA. - -And we should not, in any degree, merit the abundance we enjoy, if we -refused to give a part of it to the poor. I will tell my mother, and I -am sure she will send more than a basket of apples to the sick woman, -and the good daughter who takes care of her. - - -When we returned, Sir Charles, after looking at the fruit, said, How -wise and good is God, who thus provides for our comfort and pleasure. -The fruits of the earth, which ought only to be ate in warm weather, -perish as the winter comes on; but these wholesome dainties may be -preserved to cheer us when the earth ceases to bring forth, and the -leaves die on the boughs. How many persons are daily eating the -provisions, the different seasons afford, and forget to thank the Giver, -forget to imitate him, by imparting part of the blessings which are so -liberally bestowed.—You read the parable of the man, who, instead of -opening his heart, when his stores increased, was for pulling down his -barns and building more capacious ones; but that very night his soul was -required to quit the body he had pampered. He who dwelleth in heaven -laugheth to scorn the designs of the proud; and frustrates the plans of -the foolish man, who tries to provide for years to come, when he is not -certain, that he shall many hours be permitted to breathe the breath of -life. They only enjoy life, who fear not death. - -Just now Sir Charles has received a letter from Lady M——, requesting him -to permit Charles to visit his uncle, Lord M——, who has been some time -in a declining state of health. To-morrow my friend departs with Dr. -Bartlett; I shall long for his return, every place will appear so dull -when he is gone; but he has promised to write to me, and I will send you -his letters, and take care of them, that I may read them again when I -come home—for they then will be all I shall have of Charles—I hate these -partings. Farewell. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER XLVII. - CHARLES _to_ WILLIAM. - - -We have had a tedious journey, dear William. Foolish ignorant people -would say it foreboded no good; but we have been better instructed, and -have not been allowed to catch those weak prejudices, which, my tutor -says, produce more than half the ills of life; and are a greater weight -on the spirits, than the real unavoidable evils. - -Well, now for a full and true account of all our disasters. When we came -to the second stage, we could not get fresh horses; and those we had -were scarcely able to drag the chaise. One lagged, and the other very -unwillingly tried to get into its old pace; yet, though any human -creature, I should have thought, would have pitied them, the postilion -gave them lash after lash, till my patience was quite exhausted, and I -remonstrated with him: indeed the strokes went to my heart; and I felt -as if I had rather have called the horse my brother, than the wretch who -treated him with such barbarity, who, whistling, turned his unmoved face -to me, while he smacked his whip. I soon perceived that the harness had -galled one of the horses; well might it winch, poor wretch!—at last it -tottered, and fell. The postilion again began to use his whip; but we -interposed; I could not help asking him if he had any bowels? He stared -at me, and said, fine talking, it is only rust, it must be beat out of -him. Ah! my dear friend, of what use is a good education? this man -seemed so thoughtless, as not even to know he was cruel: my anger was -turned into compassion. - -We waited a short time, but we soon found the horses could not draw us -to the next stage. There was no remedy or alternative, we must walk till -we could meet with a house, or remain in the chaise till Harry could -bring another. Dr. Bartlett determined to walk, though it was a very wet -evening, and to leave Harry not only to take care of the luggage, but to -prevent the postilion from exercising wanton cruelty on the fallen -beast. We walked in the rain, along a very bad road; but I should not -have minded these trifling inconveniences, if Dr. Bartlett had not been -exposed to them—it was far better than hearing the lashes resound on the -horse’s side; and seeing the look of patient anguish, which the poor -animal cast on the driver—indeed I cannot forget it. - -We hastened forward; but the rain was so heavy, we were wet through -before we reached a little farm on a common. This little abode, stolen -from the waste, said my tutor, will afford us a shelter. A cheerful -light, which darted through a window, no shutter guarded, seemed to -invite us to house ourselves, and we knocked with our sticks against the -door; it was quickly opened, and a venerable old man, bending beneath a -weight of years, desired us to enter, and in the chimney corner we saw -an old woman, sitting near the blazing hearth, whose light had attracted -us; and a girl was preparing some cabbages for their supper. We -mentioned our accident to account for our intrusion, and while we were -speaking the old woman stirred the fire and desired us to approach and -dry ourselves. We did so.—What a refreshment! Never, no never did I find -the fire so comfortable as at that moment. What a blessing it is, -thought I, that there is so much fewel—and what must those suffer, who, -wet and numbed, cannot procure a fire to dry their rags, or warm their -shivering limbs; I now feel for them more than ever. I looked at the -inside of the cottage with some attention; what a difference there is -between it and our elegant house, thought I, and yet the old couple seem -to be bent by years not care. The rich have luxury and listlessness, the -poor labour and repose, whispered the Doctor, when I mentioned to him -the doubts which were struggling in my mind; God is still the Father of -us all, and provides for all his numerous family. - -Gentlemen, said the old man, though I cannot give you much good cheer, -you are welcome to what I have. My daughter will fry some bacon and -eggs, to help out the cabbage, and I believe I can find a bottle of -strong beer.—What say you, Dame, is there not one saved for Christmas? -We must bring it out of its hiding place for the gentlemen; for after -being wet they will want something to comfort their hearts. And our bed -too is at your service. Dr. Bartlett refused the bed, because he would -not put them to any inconvenience; but they insisted on it, and said, -they could sleep in the loft, in their daughter’s bed, who would not -matter lying on the floor one night; and for matter of that, said the -old man, I should not mind doing so one night myself. - -Whilst the cloth was laying, and the girl was a long time placing two -knives and forks and a broken saltcellar, we got into conversation, and -the Doctor observing she did not put any more on the table, told his -host, we must all sup together, and drink sociably the Christmas ale. If -you desire it, master, replied he, it shall be done, for though you be -pretty spoken gentlemen, I thought, mayhap, you might be too proud to -eat with poor folks; no offence, I hope, if I speaks my mind:—Old John -is fond of plain-dealing, when there is neither sin nor shame in it.—The -old woman gave his sleeve a pull; she thought she understood -good-breeding, for she had been several times in ’Squire Anderson’s -kitchen, and madam’s own woman had spoken to her. The supper stopped our -mouths, and a friendly one it was, I never eat any thing with such an -appetite—I believe the bacon and eggs were remarkably good. I did not -want a variety of dishes to coax my palate, I assure you. - -The ale made John talk, and tell us many droll stories, nor could dame -stop him, though she trod on his toes, and winked significantly. The -strong beer gave him courage to laugh at the good-breeding she had -acquired in the ’Squire’s kitchen, and even to mimick the fine words -Mrs. Betty, madam’s own maid, used to bring out, when she condescended -to speak to the vermin; for she despised low life, and never demeaned -herself. The old woman was half angry; but, yet, she was glad to let us -hear how she had been honoured. And, conscious she knew better than her -husband, hoped as how we would not be affronted, as John had a honest -heart, and meant not to disparage any body, for all he was so fond of -joking. - -We then heard the chaise moving slowly; we spoke to Harry, and desired -him to bring us another next morning, and went to bed. The bed was hard, -yet I slept so soundly Dr. Bartlett had some difficulty to wake me, when -Harry arrived. - -We took leave of John and his dame, and the latter made her best curtsy, -though it was into the mud at the door of the hut, when Dr. Bartlett -gave them a guinea, and I promised to send them a side of bacon, and a -few bottles of strong beer, before Christmas. - -I will write soon again. Farewel. - - CHARLES. - - - - - LETTER XLVIII. - CHARLES _to_ WILLIAM. - - -I could not guess the reason why my uncle sent in such a hurry for me. -Now you shall hear, and certainly I am very fortunate. The day after I -arrived, he took hold of my hand, we were alone, and pressing it, he -said, I have observed with pleasure your improvement, Charles; you are -the worthy son of a good father, and I doubt not will render his latter -days happy—he deserves it, for he has made mine comfortable, I blush not -to tell you, by teaching me to conquer myself and practise virtue. You -have from your infancy been taught more by example than precept, and -have not any inveterate bad habits to combat with.—Happy youth! shew -your gratitude to heaven for this inestimable blessing; to you much has -been given, and much indeed is required. He then presented me with a -paper, and added, I now give you my estate in Hampshire, it is let out -in small farms, and produces about one thousand pounds clear yearly -rent; my life draws nigh to a close, and I wished to give you myself -this testimony of my esteem. - -I do not know in what style I thanked my uncle, I was so surprised; but -I am sure I felt grateful, and he must have seen what I could not -express. - -The whole family congratulated me, and indeed paid me many compliments, -which I think I do not merit. If I have spent my time in useful -exercises, did not my father render those exercises pleasant? And if I -have endeavoured to be good, I only followed an example I admired. -Believe me, William, all this deserves no reward, I think I merely do my -duty: and if I did not I should be unhappy. My pleasure in the pursuit -of science is necessary to keep me from the listlessness of an idle -life. Yes, should some one say, Charles Grandison does his duty, he is -studious, he honours his parents, he loves his fellow-creatures: I -should answer, I do not know how all this has happened, and why you -wonder at it; I must do so or lose the favour of God,—lose the esteem of -my parents, whom I love so dearly; and as to my fellow-creatures, I -cannot help loving them, and doing them good; it is not only the -employment, but the pleasure of my life. - -Dr. Bartlett writes to my father; I doubt not but you will hear the -letter read. We are to return through London; I cannot lengthen out my -letter, though I have much to say, as I must attend my uncle, he has -just sent for me. I can only then assure you that I am yours -affectionately. - - CHARLES. - - - - - LETTER XLIX. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -My friend Charles is returned, dear mother; with what joy was he -received. The servants were all in the lobby to wish him health and long -life to enjoy his estate; and the tenants gathered about the gate, and -uttered their good wishes in a most audible roar. The next day many of -the neighbouring families came to congratulate him. An old gardener, who -has lived thirty or forty years in the family, and is allowed to -cultivate a little farm in the pleasure grounds, came this morning, just -after some company had left us, leaning on his crutch. Charles received -him not only with civility, but kindness; and the venerable grey-headed -man’s blessing brought tears into his eyes. See if he is not going to -weep, said Edward, as soon as the gardener’s back was turned; would you -not think, William, that he received more pleasure from that old man’s -visit, than all the rest of the visitors afforded him. You have just -guessed it, replied Charles; his simple earnest prayers for my -preservation seemed to come from his heart, and they went much nearer -mine than all the fine compliments I before heard dropped with a cool -tone of voice. - -But I must not forget to tell you, that Charles, soon after his arrival, -entreated his father to take the estate for some time into his own -hands. I should be very unhappy, my dear parent, to be independent of -you; receiving favours from you, is the greatest pleasure of my life—O -do not deprive me of it! Sir Charles appeared affected, and said, I will -manage it for you, my son, and we will together visit the different -farms; you shall enquire into all the family concerns of your tenants, -and become the protector and friend of those who, in some measure, are -dependant on you. You will then be able to judge of their wants, and -animate their industry. - -We are soon to return to London: I shall not perhaps have an opportunity -of writing again before we set off, but certainly will the day we reach -town. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER L. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Last night, dear mother, we again entered this great city; I should have -written as I promised, but I was too late for the post, and I have a -long story to tell you. - -Poor Harry broke his leg while we were on the road; a hack-horse threw -him, as he was turning suddenly to open a gate. Charles ran to him, and -supported him in the carriage till we arrived at a large town; soon -after we reached it, Sir Charles, who was in another carriage with Lady -Grandison, Emilia, and Edward, overtook us, and were instantly informed -of the accident. A surgeon was immediately sent for, and the bone set; -but his leg was shattered in such a dreadful manner, the surgeon -apprehends he will always be a cripple. Sir Charles staid in the room -while the operation was performed, to support Harry’s spirits. - -I forgot to mention, that Dr. Bartlett was not with us, he did not -return to Grandison-Hall with Charles, he had some business of his own -to settle in town. Charles and I had a hired chaise to ourselves, and -we, with Harry to attend us, always rode first to provide a good fire -for Lady Grandison, who has been for some time a little indisposed. - -Sir Charles never travels with much state, Harry was the only servant we -had with us. On his own account he did not care, he expected to sleep in -his own house that night; but he did not like to leave a faithful -servant, in his present weak state, entirely to the care of strangers. I -will give you his own words, for they made an impression on me. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Providence has placed men in different situations, to facilitate the -main end of life, improvement in virtue; yet distress brings us all on a -level again, we are then no longer master and servant, but men; worldly -distinctions are forgot, and nature asserts her primitive equality. I -would not neglect paying to the meanest of my fellow-creatures, the -attention I might need from them, if I did, I should forfeit my own -esteem. Was Lady Grandison well, I would stay this night to nurse Harry, -and to-morrow send him one of his fellow-servants.—Charles eagerly -caught his father’s hand. - - CHARLES. - -O, my dear father, do you go with my mother, and let me remain to -represent you, let me nurse Harry. I should be happy to convince him, -that I did not sit up with the old officer, because he was a gentleman, -but because he was a man. - - SIR CHARLES. - -This offer I expected from you, my son, and do not want to be importuned -to grant your request. William shall remain with you, and before -to-morrow night, I will send Robert to take your place. With what -delight do I perceive that your heart opens itself to those true -pleasures which dignify and cultivate the mind. Your kindness to Harry -will soften his bodily pain, and you will feel yourself in what -exercises your chief happiness must consist. - - -Sir Charles soon after left us, and we went to sit in Harry’s room; as -he was fallen asleep, we each took a book, we would not converse lest we -should disturb him. Charles had enquired of his mother, what kind of -nourishment was the most proper for the invalid, and took care to order -it to be ready, that he might have some refreshment when he awoke. We -had some weak wine and water, and a crust of bread; and in the night the -landlord brought us some coffee. - -Harry would fain have persuaded us to go to bed; but Charles resolutely -refused, and it was very happy we did not, for the poor man was -delirious, and tried to get out of bed. And I believe he would have torn -the bandage off his leg, if Charles, who was the only person he -recollected, had not entreated him to let it alone. He obeyed him—did I -not say truly, it was happy we were there? I could not help observing, -that while Charles was busy about him, he did not seem to be afraid of -any accident which might have happened to himself. When Harry became -composed, I mentioned to him the remark I had made, and owned I should -have been afraid to have held Harry, when he looked so frantic. Hear his -answer. When I am doing what I think right, I never feel any thing like -fear—should I be killed assisting a fellow-creature, would it not be a -glorious death? But I will tell you when I have felt fear. Once or twice -I have been in danger in a crowd, into which I entered to procure -amusement or gratify idle curiosity; then, indeed, I was afraid, and I -thought, if I now lose my life, how can I answer to my Creator for -risking it. This single thought deprived me of the courage you admire: -nothing terrifies me, when I can pray to God, and am conscious I am -obeying his holy will. - -I shall not soon forget this night, dear mother; the stillness of it, -and the sight of Harry, who was perhaps on his deathbed, made me think -very seriously, and I could not help praying to God, to enable me so to -live, that I might not fear death. I used often to wish to be rich, but -in this sick chamber, these wishes appeared foolish, I only desired to -be good. I felt the truth of Sir Charles’s observation, that this was -the solid distinction between man and man; I wondered I had not thought -so before, the virtuous only appeared great in my eyes, because they can -conquer death, and do not dread the end of life. And Charles agreed with -me, that those who overcome the sorest earthly evil, must certainly be -the truly great. We talked of all the heroes we had read an account of -in history, and observed that few died happily whose chief aim had not -been to benefit mankind, rather than obtain a great name for themselves. -But I should tire you if I was to relate the whole of our conversation, -on subjects we seldom talked of before. - -Towards morning Harry fell asleep, and woke quite sensible; I was glad -of it, for it is a shocking thing to see a man deprived of reason. How -dependent he is! I now recollect Dr. Bartlett’s words, That it is the -right use of reason, which makes us independent of every human being. - -We sat with Harry all day and endeavoured to divert him; and he was -diverted. Robert came in the evening, and brought a note from Sir -Charles, in which he desired us to sleep at the inn that night, and set -off for London early in the morning. - -Come, said Charles, the sun is not yet set, let us take a walk and look -about the town, while supper is preparing. It is cold, replied I. Yes, -answered Charles, but let us not mind that. There is nothing better at -this season than to be accustomed to rough weather, and to harden -ourselves against the winter. You will see this winter, continued he, -how little I care for wind, frost, rain, or snow. I never stay in the -house, I run through all weathers. - -At this moment we came to a small cottage, where an old woman sat at a -spinning-wheel, she seemed to be very poor. Let us go in and see her -spin, said Charles; and we entered, begging the woman not to take it -amiss, as we did not wish to interrupt her, but to see her spin. She -began to talk to us, still turning her wheel. You are very diligent, -said Charles. I must be so, replied the old woman, for it is my only -support, except a trifle the gentry give me, in the winter, to buy -coals, for they are very dear, and my hands are sometimes so cold, I -cannot turn my wheel. Charles then asked, if her daily labour was -sufficient to procure her bread. She answered yes, but it sometimes -happens in the winter, when I have fewel to buy, that I have not money -to purchase flax, and then I must sit in the cold idle and hungry. And -is there nobody that will lend you a trifle, cried Charles, when you are -in such extreme distress? Good lack, said the old woman, I dare say -there are many good hearts in the world; but the rich, who are -tender-hearted, sit in their warm parlours, and do not see the hardships -we poor folk undergo. Charles then gave her a guinea and we hurried out -of the cottage, to avoid her thanks; but her blessings followed us. - -While we were at supper, he enquired of the landlord, if she was an -industrious woman; he assured us she was, and patiently endured many -hardships rather than become burdensome to the parish. Charles then -desired him to supply her with coals the ensuing winter; let her turn -her wheel glibly, and I will pay you, good Sir, when I see you in the -spring. - -We visited Harry, and Charles desired to be called, if he was very ill -during the night. Harry looked pleased; Ah! Sir, said he, I find you -care for a poor sick servant, as well as for a gentleman. - -Before we went to bed we could not help talking of the old woman. - - CHARLES. - -How happy it is for her that she can work, and keep out of the -work-house; even in her old age her industry enables her to be useful to -society, and to command a little abode of her own. - - WILLIAM. - -Yet we slight such coarse hands; where should we get linen, if there -were not industrious spinners? - - CHARLES. - -That we do not think of, we are apt to despise, as you observe, the -useful work of such coarse hands, which we could not do without; and -admire the embroidery the ladies work merely for ornament. And why? -Because the soft fingers of the ladies do their work in elegant rooms, -and the poor labour in huts. - - WILLIAM. - -And yet, according to our reasoning last night, the poor woman who works -to earn her bread, or clothe her children, is a much more respectable -member of society, than the lady who employs herself about work which -can only procure her praise. - - CHARLES. - -Barren praise, my dear William, for Dr. Bartlett has said, that it is -very dangerous to allow ourselves to be pleased with any commendation, -which is not bestowed on our virtue. But I have seen some ladies, who -neglected their children to prepare ornaments for their persons. And -when they had them on they looked like dolls; I could not respect them -as I respect the old woman. - - WILLIAM. - -I will never complain of the cold again, but rather encounter it, that I -may be put in mind of the distresses the poor have to struggle with. Had -you turned back when I complained, this poor old soul would have lost -the comfortable fire you have procured her this winter. - - -We went to bed, slept soundly, and set off in good spirits, after -hearing from Harry that he had passed a better night. I will now -conclude this long letter; but first let me tell you, we are to visit -some manufactories soon, to learn to value the labours of the poor, and -the useful employments of life. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER LI. - WILLIAM to his MOTHER. - - -I mentioned to you that I expected to see some manufactories; yesterday -Dr. Bartlett conducted us all, except Edward, who is gone for a short -time to visit a relation, to several; and our curiosity was fully -satisfied. I had seen some formerly, but without taking much notice of -them: I viewed them all as something very common and rather mean; the -case is altered now, I am taught to reason about them, and to admire the -goodness of God displayed in the ingenuity of man. O, my dear mother, -how wonderful are the ways of Providence! I must repeat an observation -of Dr. Bartlett’s before I relate a conversation which passed between -Emilia, Charles, and I, after we returned home. - -The poor, said he, whilst they are earning their own bread, provide -necessaries and superfluities for the rich; who, in return, often to -aggrandize themselves, fight their battles, plan their laws, and enable -the mechanics to send their work to foreign markets. The labourer also, -who tills the ground, and anxiously turns the produce to a good account, -that he may be able to pay his rent, is protected by the rich, and may -reasonably expect to solace himself after his toil, under the shade of -the trees his fathers have planted, or those he himself has reared. Thus -does heaven bind us all together, and make our mutual wants the strong -cement of society; and even the follies of individuals are so overruled -as to produce good to the whole. Well, now for our conversation. - - CHARLES. - -You do not complain, I hope, that you have taken the trouble to -accompany us? - - WILLIAM. - -Complain, no, I should have been very sorry to have missed so pleasing -and instructive a sight. - - CHARLES. - -I for my part, am very well pleased. What skilful, laborious men there -are in the world; and how much of the comfort of our lives, depends on -the exertions of our fellow-creatures; and must arise from the labours -of those poor uneducated people, the rich are too apt to despise. - - WILLIAM. - -Yes, I have often seen that persons of high rank treat them as if they -were not made of the same flesh and blood.—I have seen that they -scarcely moved their hats to a mechanic, though he bows himself almost -to the ground. - - EMILIA. - -That appears to me to be very wrong. - - CHARLES. - -It is indeed a very perverse pride, for with all their riches, they -could not do without those useful men. O, thought I, when I saw the -weaver, who sat sweating before his loom, this man exhausts his vigour -to procure me a great comfort, linen. Without him, the flax, that -valuable plant, which the earth produces for this purpose, would be -useless. Every one will allow, that shoe-makers and taylors are -necessary; in short, since I find that laborious people are so essential -to the well-being of the world, I cannot imagine how men can treat them -with so much contempt. As to myself I shall guard against such -behaviour; in the use of those things, I shall endeavour always to -remember the men who are the instruments to convey the blessings of -heaven to me: and these considerations will make me esteem my -fellow-members of society; and try to fulfil my part of the sociable -compact. - - WILLIAM. - -I agree with my friend, and am ashamed that I should ever have looked on -this class of my brethren with indifference. - - EMILIA. - -But I found nothing that excited my wonder more than the art of -printing. How could it be possible to write so many books as there are -in the world? - - CHARLES. - -That would not be possible. We should then have very few books; and all -those great geniuses, from whose writings we reap so much instruction, -would be to us as dead men,—now they live and are our friends. Your -country, William, had the honour of giving birth to the inventor of this -invaluable art. - - WILLIAM. - -Yes, and he has a statue erected to his memory before the house where he -lived. His name was Laurence Koster. - - CHARLES. - -You wonder much at the letter press; but how many of the arts which we -have not seen, would afford you equal matter for astonishment? - - WILLIAM. - -It is almost incomprehensible, how a common potter, out of a rough lump -of clay, should be able to make such a variety of useful and ornamental -things. - - EMILIA. - -Have not these poor people reason to complain that they work so hard for -a piece of bread? - - CHARLES. - -By no means. They have even comparative happiness. How disagreeable must -be the miners’ employment to us, who have been brought up in a different -style of life, and have opened our eyes to the beauties of nature? It is -laborious, and they lose their health while they are secluded from the -cheerful sight of the sun, which enlivens every other labour. - - EMILIA. - -They might let it alone, and do something else to earn a livelihood. - - CHARLES. - -And what then would become of us all? They dig the gold out of the -bowels of the earth, of which we are so proud; it is true we could do -without it, as any thing that would lie in a small compass, might pass -in exchange as money: but iron we could not spare; we should do every -thing in a very clumsy manner without iron tools.—Only think of the -various comforts which accrue to society from this one metal: and men -must procure it. - - EMILIA. - -That is true.—And if we rightly consider it, we may say with truth, that -iron is more valuable than gold. - - CHARLES. - -It is not only more valuable, but our abode on the earth would be -uncomfortable without it:—it is apparently a necessary; and the great -instrument of civilization. - - WILLIAM. - -We see greater respect paid to a goldsmith than a common mechanic, -though the first we could do without. - - EMILIA. - -Perhaps it is because that a goldsmith gains greater profit, and goes -better clothed. - - CHARLES. - -You have well observed, Emilia. We are very unreasonable when we are -proud of dress. Where should we get the finery, if the hard hands of the -diligent labourer did not provide the materials? A diamond is dug out of -the earth without our assistance. Silk stuff, prepared by the industry -of a worm, and in which we pride ourselves, is worked for us without our -knowing how.—Yet, we are delighted with the praise we receive, as much -as we could be had we invented the arts, or manufactured the product of -the earth. We only wear what the skill and industry of others have -procured for us.—What are we, when we recollect such foolish pride?—We -who presume to arrogate merit to ourselves, which belongs to others; to -the weavers and taylors—and even to the worms that contribute to adorn -us. But you may say, such habits are a proof that we are rich, or born -in a distinguished rank.—It is nothing!—We are, as I have just proved, -indebted for the gold and silver to the poor miners, who, at the expence -of health, dig it out of the mine—and we possess it by mere chance.—And -our birth, of which we are apt to boast so much, is equally accidental. - - EMILIA. - -But we pay more respect to painters, and all those who exercise the fine -arts, than we do to mechanics, though theirs are not useful employments. - - CHARLES. - -That is, because we involuntarily pay respect to an improved mind. Dr. -Bartlett has taught me to make distinctions. Those employments, in which -the mind is exercised more than the body, tend to cultivate the -understanding, the noblest kind of superiority. Those artists afford -food for the mind; pleasures that the man has not any conception of who -is occupied in manual labour. We may choose our companions and friends; -but all the labourers in the great field of life, are our brothers; and -equally deserve the rights of humanity. And they are superior to their -fellow men who are most extensively useful, not those who, in false -state, exhibit diamonds and gold on their body, whilst their minds are, -perhaps, inferior to those of the poor creatures, who, by a weak taper’s -light, dug them out of their hidden place, to decorate folly, not -ornament virtue; for virtue has inherent splendor. - - -Dear mother, I will never exalt myself on account of my birth again; but -I will try to gain the noblest distinction, that of virtue. For with -respect to understanding, I have often seen the witty applauded, when -those you termed wise, were scarcely observed.—What, is not this -admiring the dazzling and neglecting the useful? But, you say the -generality are superficial, and only attend to the outside of things. I -will try to remember, that the praise of one sensible person, is of more -worth than the encomium of a crowd; because they consider before they -speak. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER LII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Honest Harry is returned quite recovered, that is, as well as he will -ever be; for the surgeon was right, he will be a cripple all his life. -Sir Charles and his Lady are much concerned, for he was a faithful -servant, and has been in the family some years. This morning we had the -following conversation. - - CHARLES. - -Harry’s accident makes me very uneasy.—Poor fellow! he was so -well-made—so active. - - SIR CHARLES. - -We ought to draw useful lessons from the misfortunes we deplore. You -find we are not a moment sure of ourselves. He rose in the morning -alert, full of health—before night, he was stretched on a bed—helpless -as a babe. A single unforeseen accident, which we cannot guard against, -may in a moment deprive us of our limbs, our sight, nay, even of life -itself. To him who lives conformable to the laws of God, no death is -sudden or dreadful. - - CHARLES. - -Accidents, you say, we cannot guard against; but are there not many -misfortunes which we bring on ourselves through imprudence? - - WILLIAM. - -An event of this kind, a fatal one, happened last year in Holland. Two -boys were at play struggling together with a pistol, they did not know -it was loaded, the pistol went off, and one of them was killed, and the -other so shocked that he has walked about the fields melancholy ever -since. - - SIR CHARLES. - -That misfortune was entirely their own fault. It should always be a -fixed rule with boys never to play with firearms; for in every thing -that depends on ourselves we ought to be circumspect, and to be careful -of our own lives, and of the lives of others, as a loan, which we must -return at the time it pleases the Almighty to demand it—we must return -our talents improved, or fearfully wait for the punishment denounced -against the unfaithful servant. - - WILLIAM. - -Are not they equally wrong who venture their lives on the ice, before -the frost is quite set in, only for the pleasure of skaiting a few days -sooner? - - SIR CHARLES. - -The passion for pleasure so blinds them, that they think not of the -danger. It is then wrong to indulge ourselves in all that we desire, for -when this propensity to present pleasure is master of us, it -dispossesses our judgment of its rightful place in the mind, and the -quiet suggestions, reflection would obtrude, are not heard in the -tumult. - - CHARLES. - -But, Sir, what is Harry to do? He is not now capable of service. - - EMILIA. - -I know my parents are so good—so humane— - - LADY GRANDISON. - -Well, and what would Emilia say further? - - EMILIA. - -You know better than I what is proper to do for him. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Speak, tell us your opinion. - - EMILIA. - -You gave a yearly income to our old gardener because he had been a -faithful servant. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Very true; but the gardener was a decrepid old man, worn out in the -service of my family; he could not do any thing to earn a livelihood. I -respect old age, I would not grub up a tree which had long afforded me a -shade; and the horse I rode on, when I was young, has now a meadow to -range in, and a soft bed to stretch those limbs on, which were formerly -active in my service. - - EMILIA. - -I would readily save my pocket-money, and give up the new clothes I have -been promised, to contribute to support poor Harry. - - SIR CHARLES. - -You are a good girl; what you have said adorns your face, and makes you -appear much more lovely than the finest ornaments could. But, Charles, -let me hear what you would advise? - - CHARLES. - -I am afraid to give you advice, you know every thing so much better than -I do. - - LADY GRANDISON. - -That is very well observed; but your father asks, not to be informed -what is proper to be done, but to hear your sentiments. - - CHARLES. - -I respect Harry, nay love him; though not as I love my dear father, and -I would fain serve him. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Go on, Charles. - - CHARLES. - -His father was a good shoe-maker, and worked hard to bring up a large -family; he brought Harry up a shoe-maker; but Harry had a mind to see -the world, as he told me, when he was sick, and he left his father, he -was then very sorry for it. His father died since he has been in your -service, and he has constantly sent most part of his wages to his poor -mother.—Now if you would have the goodness to give him a little -furniture, and leather and tools, he and his mother might live together, -and they would both be provided for; and, in time, he might be able to -return you the money, for he has an honest heart. - - SIR CHARLES. - -What, without interest, Charles? - - CHARLES. - -Now, Sir, you joke with me—but I perceive why. - - LADY GRANDISON. - -Because you were so very careful, and would have the money returned. - - -Charles kissed his mother’s cheek, and said, forgive me, I see you will -do more for him, than I could presume to ask. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Yes, I am glad that your sentiments so well accord with mine. We do the -poor an essential service when we put them in a way to earn their own -subsistence; for then we support the body without injuring the mind. -Idleness in every station leads to vice. Do you go and speak to Harry, -and ask him how much will be requisite for this purpose, and then we -will give him it as a reward for his fidelity, and to comfort him under -his misfortune. - - CHARLES. - -Dear parents, I thank you; I will run immediately and tell him the good -news. It will rejoice his heart, for when he was sick and delirious, he -raved about his mother, and repented, sorely repented that he had not -followed her advice and worked at his own trade. He will be so glad to -maintain his mother, for the poor old woman, after bringing up a family, -finds it hard to stand at the wash-tub.—He was going— - - EMILIA. - -Stop a moment, I must go with you, for I love to see people happy. - - -O, my dear mother, how delightful it is to have it in our power to be -bountiful. The poor man cried for joy, when Charles informed him what -his parents designed to do for him. Thus God provides for those who -behave well to their parents. He saved to assist an old mother, and now -he is lame his master takes care of him. In this way, said Sir Charles, -we ought to lighten the afflictions we are liable to, and must humbly -endure. - -Two months more and I shall again be with you. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER LIII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Edward is come again this afternoon, and looks very well. He informed us -of a disagreeable accident which happened lately, and shows very clearly -how imprudent it is to talk idly, and merely for the sake of having -something to say, to canvass the faults or even the vices of others. But -I will give you the particulars of a conversation we had in consequence -of this information. - - EDWARD. - -You knew Colonel Brown, Charles. Last week Captain Fiery shot him. - - CHARLES. - -And for what reason? - - EDWARD. - -Because his son, in a large company, spoke very disrespectfully of the -Captain, and said he was a man whose word could not be depended on. - - CHARLES. - -Suppose it was so, it was not proper to speak of it, especially in a -large company; these kind of conversations proceed oftener from folly -than from a detestation of vice, or a nice sense of honour, which makes -a person feel indignation, when any of his fellow-creatures act meanly. - - WILLIAM. - -How could the Colonel be answerable for what his son said? - - EDWARD. - -Fiery is a hot-headed foolish man, and because he could not have -satisfaction from a youth, demanded it of the father. He apologized for -his son’s imprudence; but Fiery would not listen to reason, he compelled -the other to meet him, his profession did not allow him to refuse a -challenge; he was killed on the spot, and Fiery sat off directly for -France. - - CHARLES. - -And what will he get by the name of courage, which his rash -insensibility may have procured him? He must never return to his native -country, his hands have been dyed in the blood of his fellow-creature, -he has robbed a family of its support, and in consequence of his -violating the laws of humanity, is compelled to wander in a strange -country, and only to receive that attention his money will procure. - - WILLIAM. - -But young Brown, how I pity him! - - CHARLES. - -Yes, he deserves pity; he is continually upbraiding himself with his -folly, and lamenting his rashness, his want of consideration, which has -deprived his mother of all her comfort, and himself of a tender friend -and affectionate father. - - EDWARD. - -Yet, many think him not to blame, he only spoke the truth. Captain -Fiery’s character is generally known, and he is as generally despised. - - CHARLES. - -Believe me, brother, we are not always to say what is true, when it -tends to the prejudice of another we must be silent; it is more to our -credit to soften the faults we must mention, and better still, perhaps, -not to mention them at all. Dr. Bartlett has often told me, that those -who accustom themselves to tell all they know of others, will -imperceptibly deviate from truth, and, forgetting compassion, will -become unjust. - - WILLIAM. - -I agree with you, and think it possible that those who build their -virtues on the vices of others, will soon have only comparative virtue. - - CHARLES. - -It is chiefly to tell some news, or to appear of consequence, that -people retail scandalous anecdotes; yet, those who listen to such -stories with malignant pleasure, despise and fear the slanderer; though -murder should not happen, many disagreeable consequences may follow, and -we should never mention the faults of others without a chance of -reclaiming them. - - -The conversation was interrupted, and so I must bid you adieu. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER LIV. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Last Friday we all of us went to pay a visit where there was a large -party of young people, and some of them of the first rank. After we came -home we conversed about them. - - EDWARD. - -What think you, Charles, of the various dresses you saw? Young Owen’s -shabby coat appeared very conspicuous near Sir William Turner’s elegant -fashionable suit. - - CHARLES. - -Young Owen is not rich, but I am sure that he in his plain dress -commands more respect than Sir William, if we go into company to be -amused and improved and not to see a block on which fine clothes are -hung. - - WILLIAM. - -You make me laugh, Charles; so, those who take so much pains to adorn -their persons are, in your opinion, mere blocks. - - CHARLES. - -I do not absolutely say so, but this I am certain of, that those who are -as accomplished and entertaining as young Owen, ought to take place of -him, whose rank, fortune, and appearance are his only claim to notice. - - EMILIA. - -Lady Jane L—— was of a different opinion; she said, she should certainly -have staid at home, had she guessed that Owen would have been there, for -she could not bear to sit in company with a youth whose grandfather was -a mean mechanic. - - CHARLES. - -Many persons of quality are of the same opinion, but I have been told -that we ought always to prefer merit to birth and riches; the former is -the fruit of our own labour, but the latter is merely accidental. - - EDWARD. - -But it seems a rule in life to seek rather the company of superiors than -inferiors. - - CHARLES. - -To seek either to associate with superiors or inferiors constantly, -would, in my opinion, be equally mean, equally tend to debase the soul; -friendship requires equality. - - WILLIAM. - -Lady Jane, whom Emilia was speaking of, appears to me very ill-natured. -Did you not observe how she ridiculed that modest young gentleman who -was a little deformed? - - EMILIA. - -Yes; she called him a spider, a little ape, and spoke so loud, that he -heard her and appeared disconcerted, and yet she continued to laugh. - - CHARLES. - -Lady Jane did not recollect, that though her title announced her rank, -her behaviour proved she was not well-bred. She had not sense to -discover, that intolerable pride is a great fault, and deformity only a -misfortune. She did not recollect, that it is her Creator she was -blaming, and that a single fall, or some other casualty, might soon -render her an object of ridicule; and, at any rate, time quickly flies, -and will insensibly destroy those charms she is now so proud of; and the -ignorant may in their turn laugh at her, when she appears old and ugly, -without wisdom or virtue to render gray hairs respectable. How often -have I heard my tutor say, that wisdom and virtue never grow old, on the -contrary, while they are useful to mankind, they spread a real splendor -over the character of an individual. - - -Dear mother, how often have you warned me against such behaviour, and -how tenderly have I seen you treat those whom others despised? Farewel. - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER LV. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Forgive me, dear mother, for having been so long silent, but I have only -disagreeable tidings to communicate to you. We all wear a face of woe; -my worthy benefactor, our dear Sir Charles, is very ill, and has been so -for some time. The physicians think him in great danger, and we expect -nothing but death. Lady Grandison, as you may well imagine, is almost -inconsolable. Emilia is continually weeping, and Edward appears almost -distracted. I will give you an account of a conversation we had -yesterday, after we left the sick room. Edward clasped his hands -together as in despair, and threw himself into a chair in an adjoining -chamber. Ah! William, he cried, how it grieves me to think I have so -often offended my more than father; yes, my friend, every thing I have -done now haunts me, and pains my very soul. - - WILLIAM. - -My dear Edward be comforted, he is still alive, and God may perhaps -restore him to health. - - EDWARD. - -I know I do not deserve that favour, I have so often offended him, and -though he has forgiven me, I can never forgive myself; and, perhaps, God -will not forgive me. Happy Charles, who now, because he has always been -dutiful, can look for his father’s death with a sedate sorrow, while I -fly from his sick bed, continually tormented by fear and remorse. - - WILLIAM. - -Indeed he appears to have much fortitude. - - EDWARD. - -He has a Father in heaven that is good to him, who gives him power to -support his grief. - - WILLIAM. - -Pray you also to that Father, and you too will obtain his favour; the -unhappy who sincerely turn to him, will always find him compassionate -and ready to forgive those who really lament their faults, not merely -the consequences produced by them. - - EDWARD. - -Well then, I will do so; but oh! William, my heart is very heavy. - - -Dear mother, I pity poor Edward, but I admire Charles; and I do not know -which to praise most, his filial love, or his sedateness and patience; -in the bitterness of his grief he scarcely ever leaves his sick parent, -he gives him his medicines, stifles his sighs, and hides his tears, and -almost seems afraid to breathe when his father closes his eyes; but I -have seen him fold his hands together, and, lifting up his eyes to -heaven, pray with ardour. I will not send this letter off till -to-morrow, when I will write again. - -WILLIAM, _in continuation_. - -How much I was affected yesterday afternoon. I went, after I had done -writing, to Sir Charles’s chamber, I opened the door softly, but instead -of Charles, saw Lady Grandison and Emilia, both kneeling at the -bed-side; I stole away unperceived to seek for Charles, I could not find -him in any of the chambers, no one knew where he was. Oh! said I to -myself, where is my dear Charles? I ran into the garden, and there I -found him in the summer-house; he was kneeling down, his hands and eyes -were lifted up to heaven, and big tears rolled down his cheeks; I heard -him pray with earnestness, but could only distinguish a few words. - -_Preserve, oh! my God, my dear, my affectionate father—grant him longer -life, Thou knowest best, Thou art infinitely merciful, oh! pardon me, I -wish to die to save him, to save my mother from the anguish she must -endure if deprived of him._ - -He seemed in an agony, and at length arose with more apparent firmness; -I could no longer be silent, I caught his hand, God will preserve your -father, I exclaimed; I hope so, answered he, but let us walk round the -garden, that my mother may not see that I have been crying, it would add -to her sorrows. We walked backwards and forwards, when Charles resumed -the discourse; You heard me pray then? - - WILLIAM. - -No, I only heard a few incoherent words, and that you wished to die, to -save your father. - - CHARLES. - -Of how much more consequence is his life than mine? I scarcely know how -I should live without him. My wish was a selfish one, for perfect -happiness is not to be found on earth; I have heard him often say, the -happiest have their troubles, and the best their failings, which disturb -their earthly peace. - - WILLIAM. - -What a comfort would these sensible reflections afford, should you lose -your father? - - CHARLES. - -I hope they would; though it now appears to me, that nothing could -afford me comfort, should I be deprived of the best of fathers. Come, -let us go in; I would not lose the few moments that still afford me an -opportunity of shewing my affection and alleviating his sufferings. - -We went immediately into the house. Sir Charles had slept near an hour, -and was something better; he called Charles with a faint, yet a distinct -voice, as soon as he heard him enter the room; he approached the bed and -threw himself upon his knees, he took hold of his father’s hand and -kissed it several times with a kind of eager respect; what sensibility, -what sincerity and grief, did I not see in his countenance! The tears -were rolling fast down his cheeks, it would be impossible to delineate -the scene.—What does my father want? asked he; what would he say to his -son? I wish, answered Sir Charles, to tell you, that your duty and -affection will soften the pangs of death, your mother will still have a -friend, your sister a protector, and your past behaviour makes me rely -on your future. You weep, grieve not my son, sometime or other we must -have been separated, but if you obey your heavenly father we shall meet -again, where death has no dominion. - - CHARLES. - -But, my dear father, if you recover now, I might die before you. - - SIR CHARLES. - -Would you then, Charles, rather have me suffer, than endure grief -yourself? Do you love me? - - CHARLES. - -Do I love you!—I love you more than I love myself. - - SIR CHARLES. - -No, my dear, you are mistaken; you love yourself better, or you would -not wish me to live in a world where there are so many cares and -sorrows. - - CHARLES. - -It is true, but I pray forgive me, I cannot help wishing to keep you -here. I cannot forbear thinking how unhappy I shall be, when I lose my -father; I have such need of your wise counsel, you are the guide of my -youth,—my first friend. - - SIR CHARLES. - -You will still have a good mother, and you have a Father in heaven, who -will never leave you nor forsake you; reconcile your mind to the event: -if I die, recollect that I am only gone a little while before you; be -virtuous, remember your Creator, fulfil all your duties to your -fellow-creatures, and you will without fear wait for the last solemn -hour, and the moment when we shall meet again.—But I have said -sufficient, submit yourself to the Ruler of the universe, who loves you -even better than I do. - - -My friend Charles rose up, and retired from the bed, without being able -to speak, his heart was full, he threw himself into a chair. My father, -said he, has commanded me to submit to the will of heaven; this -affecting command is, perhaps, the last I shall ever receive from his -dear mouth.—Well then, I must, I will be resigned. I will suppress my -grief as well as I can, and wait the event with fortitude; my father has -taught me how to live, and I shall now learn of him how to die; by -imitating his virtues, I may be thought worthy to dwell with him in -heaven, to meet him never to part again. - -The physician came in with Dr. Bartlett, he found his patient much -better, and gave us some hopes; the good Doctor took Charles by the -hand, and advised him to take some rest, for he had not been in bed -these three nights: but Charles begged to be excused; I cannot sleep, -Sir, said he, while my father suffers so much. No, I slumber by his bed -when he rests, that is sufficient. Indeed, who can so well take care of -a father as his own son? Who can love him as well as I do? My eye must -see if he lies down soft and easy, I must cover him, I must warm his -dear hands in mine when I find them cold.—I must do more—I must receive -his last breath.—He could not go on, and when they still continued to -press him, he said, he esteemed too much the few precious hours he could -now spend with his father to lose one, while there was a shadow of -danger. - -What a son, dear mother! but even the recital has affected me so much, I -can only assure you that I am your dutiful son, - - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER LVI. - _Mrs._ D—— _to_ WILLIAM. - - -I was very much concerned when I heard of your benefactor’s alarming -illness; but I would fain hope, with you, my dear William, that heaven -will restore so good a man, whose example the world has so much need of. -Yet, my son, what an opportunity presents itself for you to view death -without terror. You see with what peace and tranquility a Christian can -wait for his dying hour; one who has observed the duties of -christianity, and not assumed the mere name. You behold the good Sir -Charles resigned to the will of heaven, calmly waiting for his -dissolution; yes, every one who has lived well, may be termed the friend -of God, and secure of his protection at the last trying hour, may view -it without dismay. He knows, that released from all the cares and -sufferings of this life, he is going to enjoy the presence and favour of -the supreme fountain of good, whose favorite he is, because he has -endeavoured to copy the perfections, as far as he could discover them, -of that Being he adored. Death has nothing terrible in it for him; no, -death, at that moment, appears his best friend, as it conducts him to an -eternity of happiness, which, even in this world, he has had a foretaste -of; and besides, what delight may not a further improvement in knowledge -afford to one who has already advanced a few steps in the attainment of -it. Life is like a dream, which quickly passes away, and virtue only -forces it to leave lasting traces behind. Let us, my son, endeavour to -be good, and then we may all expect to meet where our great improvement -in virtue may ensure our happiness. Neglect not to inform me, by the -first packet, of the present state of health of our much-esteemed -friend. - - D. - - - - - LETTER LVII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. - - -Rejoice with us, my dear mother, Sir Charles is now entirely out of -danger; I omitted writing for some days, that I might be quite certain -that our hopes were well-founded. Our mourning is now turned into joy: I -think we were never so happy before. But what should I have done had he -died? the time of my departure for Holland approaches, how could I have -left my friend in the midst of his grief? It is in the hour of sorrow -that we most need a friend, and I think I love him better than ever, -since I saw him so unhappy;—but it is all over now, and I shall return -with satisfaction to my dear mother and sister. How quickly has this -year flown away; and Dr. Bartlett has frequently told me, that few -complain of the irksomeness of time, who are properly employed. -Certainly none are more to be pitied than those who are habitually idle; -how far otherwise is it with those happy families where useful -employments, and innocent amusements, fill the whole day. I have learned -of Charles to divide my hours well, and I shall do so, with your -permission, when I return home. I shall not then, I hope, be any more -dull, as I used formerly to be, when we were without company; nor shall -I wish continually for the company of young Du Lis, because he was -always merry. I will read to you, when we are alone; and improve myself -in drawing, and in the many other things I have been taught since I came -to England, that my friend Charles may not blush for me, when we meet -again. I shall never forget what I heard Sir Charles say a few days ago -to Edward; you wish much for company, dear Edward, said he, but, believe -me, it is wishing for slavery. He who is always running into company, -cannot bear himself in solitude; constant company leads to habitual -idleness. Society is agreeable; but it must be relieved by retired hours -to remain long so. And it is very improper, for young people especially, -every day to think of visiting; the days of youth are invaluable, it is -the seedtime of life, and a harvest cannot be expected when it has been -neglected. You ought then to suppress that desire of continual -dissipation, which insensibly draws off the attention from more rational -pursuits, and even prevents young people from obtaining a respectable -situation in the society they frequent. If you would learn to be -qualified for general conversation, learn to think when you read, and -through the assistance of rational books, many hours of retirement may -pass pleasantly away, without your wishing for the noise of -society—Books are never failing friends. - - I am, dear mother, - WILLIAM. - - - - - LETTER LVIII. - WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER, - - -Next Thursday is fixed for my departure, so that this is my last letter. -I did wish to have remained here till after Emilia’s birth-day, but one -of Sir Charles’s friends intends setting off next week for Holland, and -he wishes me to go with him, as another opportunity may not soon occur. - -How happens it, dear mother, that I am so low-spirited when I am -returning to you whom I have so continually longed to see? I love Sir -Charles and his Lady, and I love my friend as myself, yet, I love you -better than all the world. I know not well what I feel, I would -willingly return, and still wish to remain where I am. Sir Charles has -given me reason to hope that I shall see my friend in Holland much -sooner than I expected, and that we shall correspond constantly during -our separation; he then gave me some books and mathematical instruments. -How much I shall have to read to you, and how many things to tell you, -when I am once more returned home! - -Farewel, farewel, will you forgive me for feeling so much concern at -leaving my friends, when I am returning to the most indulgent of -parents, and a sister whom I desire to improve? Soon, very soon, shall I -tell you, that I am your very affectionate son, - - WILLIAM. - - - END OF VOL. I. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - _A_ CATALOGUE _of_ BOOKS _composed for the Use of Children and young - Persons, and generally used in the principal Schools and Academies - in England_. - -I. Mrs. TRIMMER’S LITTLE SPELLING BOOK and EASY LESSONS for young -Children. 6d. each - -II. HEWLETT’S INTRODUCTION TO SPELLING AND READING. 1s. - -III. MARSHALL’S Improved Spelling Book for Children of all Ages and -Capacities, a new Edition. 1s. - -IV. Mrs. BARBAULD’S LESSONS FOR CHILDREN, from Two to Four Years, 4 -Parts. 6d. each, or 2s. 6d. bound together. - -V. HYMNS for Children, by the same. 1s. - -VI. The CALENDAR of NATURE. 1s. - -VII. GEOGRAPHY FOR CHILDREN: or, a short and easy Method of teaching and -learning Geography; whereby Children may, in a short Time, be taught the -Use of the Terrestrial Globe, and Geographical Maps; and gain a -Knowledge of all the considerable Countries in the World, their -Situation, Boundaries, Extent, Divisions, Rivers, chief Cities, -Government, and Religion. Translated from the French of Abbot Langlet du -Fresnoy. Fourteenth Edition, corrected to the Treaty of Peace in 1783. -With a Table of the Latitude and Longitude of principal Places. Price -1s. 6d. - -VIII. An INTRODUCTION to the KNOWLEDGE of NATURE and Reading the Holy -Scriptures, by Mrs. TRIMMER. Second Edition, Price 2s. bound. - -IX. FABULOUS HISTORIES; teaching the proper Treatment of Animals. By the -same. Price 2s. bound. - -X. SACRED HISTORY, from the Creation of the World, selected from the -Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, with Annotations and -Reflections suited to the Comprehension of Young Minds; particularly -calculated to facilitate the Study of the Holy Scriptures in Schools and -Families, and to render this important Branch of Education easy to the -Tutor and pleasing to the Pupil. 6 Vols. Dedicated, by Permission, to -the QUEEN. Price 21s. bound: by the same Author. - -XI. ORIGINAL STORIES, from real Life; with Reflections calculated to -form the Heart to Truth and Goodness. - -XII. A FATHER’S INSTRUCTIONS: consisting of Moral Tales, Fables, and -Reflections, designed to promote a Love of Truth, a Taste for Knowledge, -and an early acquaintance with the Works of Nature, by THOMAS PERCIVAL, -M. D. 4s. - -XIII. MORAL AND LITERARY DISSERTATIONS, on, 1. Truth and Faithfulness. -2. On Habit and Association. 3. On Inconsistencies of Expectation in -literary Pursuits. 4. On a Taste for the general Beauties of Nature. 5. -On a Taste for the fine Arts, &c. chiefly intended as the Sequel to a -FATHER’S INSTRUCTIONS. By the same. Price 5s. - -XIV. CONSIDERATIONS for YOUNG MEN, and the Parents of Young Men. 2d. - -XV. THE SPEAKER: or MISCELLANEOUS PIECES selected from the best English -Writers, and disposed under proper Heads, with a View to facilitate the -Improvement of Youth in reading and speaking, as well as to lead young -Persons into some Acquaintance with the most valuable Writers, and -impress upon their Minds the Sentiments of Honour and Virtue. To which -is prefixed, an Essay on Elocution. By W. ENFIELD, LL.D. Lecturer on the -Belles Lettres, in the Academy at Warrington. 3s. 6d. - -XVI. Exercises in Elocution; selected from the best Authors, being a -Sequel to the SPEAKER. By the same. 3s. 6d. - -XVII. BIOGRAPHICAL SERMONS: or, a Series of Discourses on the principal -Characters in Scripture, viz. Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Job, -Daniel, St. Peter, St. Paul, and Jesus Christ, by W. ENFIELD, LL.D. 3s. -6d. bound. - -_The Author has adopted this Mode of Address, not merely on Account of -its Novelty, but from an Expectation that the interesting Scenes, which -it has given him an Opportunity of describing, will engage the Feelings -of his Readers in favour of Virtue; and also with a View to lead young -Persons into a Habit of making useful Reflections on the Actions and -Characters of Men, whether represented in the Pages of Sacred or Civil -History, or exhibited in real Life._ - -XVIII. The LIFE of Mr. THOMAS FIRMIN, Citizen of London, by J. CORNISH, -2s. bound. - -_Mr. Firmin’s Virtues, though of the more exalted Kind, were yet such as -all may imitate. It was not by the Help of extraordinary Knowledge in -any Art or Science that he attracted high Esteem from so many of his -Contemporaries of great Note and Eminence; he gained honourable Fame by -a diligent Application to Business, a prevailing Inclination to do Good, -and a serious Attention to the Precepts of our holy Religion. In his -Character we see to what Dignity and Honour a Tradesman may attain, -without ever being elevated above that Rank._ - -XIX. The STUDENT’S POCKET DICTIONARY; or, a Compendium of Universal -History, Chronology, and Biography, from the received Æra of the -Creation of the World, to the present Time: In two Parts. By THOMAS -MORTIMER, Esq. - -XX. A PRACTICAL GRAMMAR of the FRENCH LANGUAGE, by N. WANOSTROCHT. Third -Edition, with Additions and Improvements. Price 2s. bound. - -XXI. HUDSON’S FRENCH SCHOLAR’S GUIDE: or an easy Help for translating -French into English. Containing Select Fables, Diverting Tales, Witty -Repartees, Familiar Letters, Moral Sentences, Bills, Receipts, &c. in -French. To which is added, an Index of all the Words in the Book, their -proper signification in English, and grammatical Derivation. Eighth -Edition, Price 3s. 6d. - -_This Book is recommended by upwards of forty of the principal -School-masters in and about London._ - -XXII. The ART of DRAWING and PAINTING in WATER COLOURS, _with Cuts_. -Fifth Edition, 1s. - -XXIII. The ART of DRAWING in PERSPECTIVE, for the Use of such as are -Strangers to Mathematics. To which is added, the Art of Painting upon -Glass, and Drawing in Crayons; also the Art of Etching and Japanning, -_with Cuts_. The Fourth Edition, 1s. - -XXIV. The ART of WRITING: containing Directions for writing, and -Copper-plate Copies of all the Hands now in Use; very serviceable to -those who have not the Instructions of a Master. By A. SERLE. 1s. - -XXV. HUDSON’S NEW INTRODUCTION to TRADE and BUSINESS: containing Forms -of Receipts, Promissory Notes, Bills of Exchange, Bills of Parcels, &c. -also Commercial and Epistolary Correspondence, List of Abbreviations, -Arithmetical Tables and Questions, &c. &c. 1s. 6d. - -XXVI. The SCHOLAR’S GUIDE to ARITHMETIC, by J. BONNYCASTLE, Mathematical -Master, at the Royal Academy, Woolwich. Fifth Edition, 2s. bound. - -XXVII. An INTRODUCTION to MENSURATION and PRACTICAL GEOMETRY. With -Notes, containing the Reason of every Rule, concisely and clearly -demonstrated, by the same. 3s. bound. - -XXVIII. An INTRODUCTION to ALGEBRA. By the same. 3s. bound. - -XXIX. An INTRODUCTION to ASTRONOMY, by the same, 8vo. 8s. bound. - -XXX. ROSSIGNOL’S ELEMENTS of GEOMETRY, 4s. This Book is used at the -Royal Academy, Woolwich. - -XXXI. NICHOLSON’S Introduction to NATURAL PHILOSOPHY, with Twenty-five -Copper-plates, 2 vols. 14s. - -XXXII. A NEW CHART of HISTORY, with a Book explaining it, containing an -Epitome of Universal History, by Dr. PRIESTLEY. 10s. 6d. - -_The capital Use of a Chart of this Kind is, that it is a most excellent -mechanical Help to the Knowledge of History, impressing the Imagination -indelibly with a just Image of the Rise, Progress, Extent, Duration, and -contemporary State of all the considerable Empires that have ever -existed in the World._ - -XXXIII. A CHART OF BIOGRAPHY, containing about Two Thousand Names of -Persons the most distinguished in the Annals of Fame, the Length of -whose Lives is here represented by Lines drawn in Proportion to their -real Duration, and placed so as to shew by Inspection, how long any -Number of Persons were contemporary, and how long one Life begun before, -or extended beyond another. The Names are also distributed into Classes. -By the same. 10s. 6d. - -_The Price of these Charts on Canvas and Rollers, is_ 14s. _each_. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG GRANDISON, VOLUME I (OF -2) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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