Sally. What was that, mamma?
Mrs. M. Why, there had been one year so bad a harvest in France that numbers of the poor were famished to death. This calamity was so much talked of, that it reached the court, and was mentioned before the young princesses. “Dear me!” said one of them, “how silly that was! Why, rather than be famished, I would eat bread and cheese.” Her governess was then obliged to acquaint her that the greatest part of her father’s subjects scarcely ever eat anything better than black bread all their lives; and that vast numbers would now think themselves very happy to get only half their usual pittance of that. Such wretchedness as this was what the princess had not the least idea of; and the account shocked her so much, that she was glad to sacrifice all her finery to afford some relief to the sufferings of the poor.
Sally. But I hope there is nobody famished in our country.
Mrs. M. I hope not, for we have laws by which every person is entitled to relief from the parish, if he is unable to gain a subsistence; and were there no laws about it, I am sure it would be our duty to part with every superfluity, rather than let a fellow-creature perish for want of necessaries.
Sally. Then do you think it was wrong for Miss Pemberton to have all those fine things?
Mrs. M. No, my dear, if they are suitable to her fortune, and do not consume the money which ought to be employed in more useful things to herself and others.
Sally. But why might she not be contented with such things as I have; and give the money that the rest cost to the poor?
Mrs. M. Because she can afford both to be charitable to the poor, and also to indulge herself in these pleasures. But do you recollect that the children of Mr. White the baker, and Mr. Shape the tailor, might just ask the same questions about you?
Sally. How so?
Mrs. M. Are not you as much better dressed, and as much more plentifully supplied with playthings than they are, as Miss Harriet is than you?