SIR CHARLES.
Certainly. He is a man, none are exempt; God is no respecter of persons; they please him, who do good, and attend to truth: it matters not whether it be in a palace, or a mud hovel.
When we were alone, Charles said, I knew my father would not be displeased with me; yet if it had been possible, I wished not only to have spared him the anxiety my absence occasioned, but to have asked his advice. I followed the impulse of my heart—yet I do it with more pleasure, when his sanction assures me my feelings do not lead my reason astray.
WILLIAM.
LETTER XLV.
William to his Mother.
I have another proof to give you, my honoured mother, of the goodness of heart Charles continually exhibits. A gentleman, who visits very frequently this family, made him a present of a beautiful spaniel; young Falkland, our neighbour, had often asked for it; but the gentleman refused to give him it, because he treats his own dogs cruelly. You must know, Falkland has already five dogs, besides cats, pigeons, and a parrot. These afford him his chief employment; not to make them happy, but to please himself. Though he has so many, he was very much vexed that he could not get this dog. And what do you think happened? The dog died suddenly, and we have by chance discovered that Falkland made one of his servants poison the poor animal.—What monsters there are in the world! Yes, he must be a monster, I think, who deprives another of a pleasure when he receives no benefit from it himself. But the following conversation, when we were walking in the garden, soon after the discovery, will let you see how Charles behaves, even when he is angry.
WILLIAM.
I cannot help grieving about the poor dog.
CHARLES.
I acknowledge I am very sorry; I did not think that the loss of a dog would have affected me in such a manner;—but it was a very faithful one—and then the horrid agonies it endured—I cannot forget its groans.