Tob. Why not, while the world holds any thing that's dear to me? Have not I a son?
Fra. Who knows, that you will ever see him more? He may be dead.
Tob. Alas! he may. But as long as I am not sure of it, he lives to me: And if he falls, 'tis in his country's cause. Nay, should I lose him, still I should not wish to die. Here is the hut in which I was born. Here is the tree that grew with me; and, I am almost ashamed to confess it—I have a dog, I love.
Fra. A dog!
Tob. Yes!—Smile if you please: but hear me. My benefactress once came to my hut herself, some time before you fixed here. The poor animal, unused to see the form of elegance and beauty enter the door of penury, growled at her.—"I wonder you keep that surly, ugly animal, Mr. Tobias," said she; "you, who have hardly food enough for yourself."—"Ah, madam," I replied, "if I part with him, are you sure that any thing else will love me?"—She was pleased with my answer.
Fra. [To Stranger.] Excuse me, sir; but I wish you had listened.
Stra. I have listened.
Fra. Then, sir, I wish you would follow this poor old man's example.
Stra. [Pauses.] Here; take this book, and lay it on my desk. [Francis goes into the Lodge with the book.] How much has this Mrs. Haller given you?
Tob. Oh, sir, she has given me so much, that I can look towards winter without fear.