LETTER XII.
TO MRS. H——.
Richmond, Dec. 22, 1771.
YOU cannot conceive the odd agreeable mixture of pleasure and pain I felt on the receipt of your favor;—believe me, good friend, I honor and respect your nobleness of principle—but at the same time greatly disapprove of your actions.—My dear Madam, bribery and corruption are the reigning topics of declamation;—and here, because I happen to be a well-wisher, you are loading us with presents.—One word for all, my good Mrs. H—— must not be offended when I tell her it hurts my pride—for pride I have—too much, God knows. I accept your present this time—and do you accept dame Sancho’s and my thanks—and never aim at sending aught again—Your daughter Kate brought me your letter: she seemed a little surprized at my being favoured with your correspondence—and I am sure wished to see the contents.—As I from my soul honor filial feelings—it hurt me not to gratify her honest curiosity—but I do not chuse to let her know any thing of the matter—to save her the anxiety of hope and fear. She is very well, and rules over us—not with an iron sceptre—but a golden one. We tell her we love her too well—in truth I can never return her a tithe of the kindnesses she has shewn my family—but what’s all this to you?—I shall tire you with a jargon of nonsense; therefore I shall only wish you all many happy returns of this season—good stomachs—good cheer—and good fires.—My kind remembrance to Madam Tilda—tell her, if she’s a good girl, I will try to recommend her to Mr. G—— the painter, for a wife;—he is really, I believe, a first-rate genius—and, what’s better, he is a good young man—and I flatter myself will do honor to his science, and credit to his friends.—Kitty looks like the Goddess of Health—I am sure, every drop of blood in her honest heart beats for the welfare and happiness of her parents.—Believe me ever your obliged servant and friend,
I. SANCHO.
LETTER XIII.
TO MR. B——.
London, July 18, 1772.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
NOTHING could possibly be more welcome than the favor of your truly obliging letter, which I received the day before yesterday.—Know, my worthy young man—that it’s the pride of my heart when I reflect that, through the favor of Providence, I was the humble means of good to so worthy an object.—May you live to be a credit to your great and good friends, and a blessing and comfort to your honest parents!—May you, my child, pursue, through God’s mercy, the right paths of humility, candour, temperance, benevolence—with an early piety, gratitude, and praise to the Almighty Giver of all your good?—gratitude—and love for the noble and generous benefactiors his providence has so kindly moved in your behalf! Ever let your actions be such as your own heart can approve—always think before you speak, and pause before you act—always suppose yourself before the eyes of Sir William—and Mr. Garrick.—To think justly, is the way to do rightly—and by that means you will ever be at peace within.—I am happy to hear Sir W—— cares so much about your welfare—his character is great, because it is good;—as to your noble friend Mr. Garrick—his virtues are above all praise—he has not only the best head in the world, but the best heart also;—he delights in doing good.—Your father and mother called on me last week, to shew me a letter which Mr. Garrick has wrote to you—keep it, my dear boy, as a treasure beyond all price—it would do honor to the pen of a divine—it breathes the spirit of father—friend—and christian!—indeed I know no earthly being that I can reverence so much as your exalted and noble friend and patron Mr. Garrick.—Your father and mother, I told you, I saw lately—they were both well, and their eyes overflowed at the goodness of your noble patrons—and with the honest hope that you would prove yourself not unworthy of their kindness.
I thank you for your kindness to my poor black brethren—I flatter myself you will find them not ungrateful—they act commonly from their feelings: I have observed a dog will love those who use him kindly—and surely, if so, negroes in their state of ignorance and bondage will not act less generously, if I may judge them by myself—I should suppose kindness would do any thing with them;—my soul melts at kindness—but the contrary—I own with shame—makes me almost a savage.—If you can with conveniency—when you write again—send me half a dozen cocoa-nuts, I shall esteem them for your sake—but do not think of it if there is the least difficulty.—In regard to wages, I think you acted quite right—don’t seek too hastily to be independent—it is quite time enough yet for one of your age to be your own master.—Read Mr. Garrick’s letter night and morning—put it next your heart—impress it on your memory—and may the God of all Mercy give you grace to follow his friendly dictates!—I shall ever truly rejoice to hear from you—and your well-doing will be a comfort to me ever; it is not in your own power and option to command riches—wisdom and health are immediately the gift of God—but it is in your own breast to be good—therefore, my dear child, make the only right election—be good, and trust the rest to God; and remember he is about your bed, and about your paths, and spieth out all your ways. I am, with pride and delight,
Your true friend,