Has. Curb my pity?—and what can I receive in recompence for that soft bond, which links me to the wretched?—and while it sooths their sorrow repays me more, than all the gifts or homage of an empire.——But if repugnant to your plan of government—not in the name of pity—but of justice.
Sul. Justice!——
Has. The justice which forbids all but the worst of criminals to be denied that wholesome air the very brute creation freely takes; at least allow them that.
Sul. Consider, Sir, for whom you plead—for men, (if not base culprits) yet so misled, so depraved, they are offensive to our state, and deserve none of its blessings.
Has. If not upon the undeserving,—if not upon the hapless wanderer from the paths of rectitude,—where shall the sun diffuse his light, or the clouds distil their dew? Where shall spring breathe fragrance, or autumn pour its plenty?
Sul. Sir, your sentiments, but much more your character, excite my curiosity. They tell me, in our camps, you visited each sick man's bed,—administered yourself the healing draught,—encouraged our savages with the hope of life, or pointed out their better hope in death.——The widow speaks your charities—the orphan lisps your bounties—and the rough Indian melts in tears to bless you.——I wish to ask why you have done all this?—What is it prompts you thus to befriend the wretched and forlorn?
Has. In vain for me to explain—the time it wou'd take to tell you why I act thus——
Sul. Send it in writing then.
Has. Nay, if you will read, I'll send a book, in which is already written why I act thus.
Sul. What book?—What is it called?