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.