LETTER VIII.CharlestoWilliam.

This morning I set out, with Dr. Bartlett, for the country where my father’s estate is situated. I shall not have many opportunities of sending letters to you, yet I shall not neglect to write.

The account you gave me of Frederick does not prejudice me in his favour.

I was obliged to leave off suddenly when I had written thus, for my cousin G—, who accompanied us part of the way, came to tell me that Dr. Bartlett was waiting for me. We left him near home, and for some time we missed his sprightly sallies; but his taste for humour, to which I think he is too much addicted, often hurt me while we wereon the road. The first instance, that I now recollect, had a reference to Dr. Bartlett.

As the good old man was stepping out of his carriage, his foot slipped, and he fell with great force on the ground. While I assisted him to rise, I turned my eyes on my cousin, whom I saw endeavouring in vain to smother a laugh; at last he was obliged to run into the house to give way to it, out of our hearing. I felt that I was red with anger; nothing displeases me more than to hear any one laugh at an accident. I have often heard people say they cannot help it, but in my opinion it is a great proof of insensibility. The most ludicrous accident never makes me smile when I see a fellow-creature, or even an animal, in pain. I could not forbear communicating my sentiments to my cousin as soon as we were alone.

CHARLES.

I have often heard you say you loved and esteemed Dr. Bartlett.

JAMES.

Yes; why do you doubt it?

CHARLES.

And yet when you saw him fall, not knowing whether he had hurt himself, you began to laugh, and flew into the house without making any inquiries.

JAMES.

It is not in my power to avoid laughing when I see any one fall in a ridiculous manner; when the Doctor’s wig fell off, he looked so droll—I cannot help laughing, even now, when I think of it.

CHARLES.

You can avoid laughing if you will; you have a good heart, I have seen you feel compassion.

JAMES.

No, it is not want of compassion; and yet it is true I cannot keep myself from laughing: I wish I knew the reason.

CHARLES.

Let us try to find it out. Suppose you saw a man without an arm or a leg, who did every thing in an awkward laughable manner, yet an inclination to laugh would be instantly restrained by fear of offending an unfortunate fellow-creature: but let the hat fly off on one side, and the wig on the other, and then you instantly laugh, without remembering a leg or an arm may soon be broken.

JAMES.

I believe you are right.

CHARLES.

It is best, then, to fix your attention on the severe pain a person may suffer,and then your involuntary laughter would subside into pity.

JAMES.

I fear this will not help me much.

CHARLES.

You fear, then, that your heart is not good.

JAMES.

No, not so neither, for I declare to you, I was very sorry when I saw Dr. Bartlett had hurt himself, and then I had no inclination to laugh.

CHARLES.

Then I am right; the laugh ceased as soon as you gave way to compassion, and of course this thoughtless unfeeling mirth may be restrained. Indeed if you had considered a moment, you would have felt the impropriety, and beenashamed of yourself; what, laugh when a respectable old man had hurt himself!—Dr. Bartlett now entered, and we changed the subject.

In the evening we went a walking together, and passed by a miserable hut, at the door of which a poor old blind man stood. His grey hair hung about his hollow cheeks, which poverty seemed to have deeply marked; it was wet with the labours of the day, for he had been turning a wheel, as I found afterwards; his trembling hands were supported by a crutch, on which his chin rested, and his clouded eyes were turned up to heaven without receiving a ray of light. You shall hear the conversation that this sight produced.

CHARLES.

What unhappy wretches there are in the world! look at that old man, cousin.

JAMES.

You are always looking at what gives you pain.

CHARLES.

He is blind and old, I cannot help pitying him.

JAMES.

But your pity will not restore his sight: let us go on, it is growing dark.

CHARLES.

No, I must first ask him if he has any children.

JAMES.

Nonsense! Why should you ask him such a question?

CHARLES.

Because it would relieve me to find that he had good children; I should notthen think him so unhappy, they will certainly wait on him, serve, and comfort him. We next spoke to the old man, and I heard with pleasure that he had a worthy daughter, who works hard to maintain him, and he himself, sometimes, turns a wheel, and does other things, that blind men can do.

My cousin’s fondness for tricks now led him to commit an act of cruelty that made me very angry. I gave the blind man a trifle, and James, when he left the house, felt in his pocket a little while, and then flipped something into his hand, saying, there is a guinea for you. Joy was visible in every feature of the old man’s face. We stepped forward. How I love you! exclaimed I, you have done a noble action. And do you think I would give a guinea to a stranger, replied he. I interrupted him, with surprise,—You told him so; what did you give him? It was only a new shilling.

Vexation and anger tied my tongue: at last I could not help speaking with some resentment. Such a trick does you little honour; deceit is a detestable thing when done to procure any advantage; but what extreme cruelty to sport with the poverty of a blind old man. Did not his look of pleasure wound your conscience? You must have a heart of stone if it did not touch you! Fine preaching! exclaimed he; and he caught hold of my arm to make me quicken my pace, but I rushed from him, and obeyed the impulse of my heart. I returned to the old man, thrust a guinea into his hand, and soon overtook James, who then appeared ashamed, guessing what I had been doing, for I dropped the subject, and only mention it to you.

CHARLES.

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