“Your maxims, Mr. Harley, are certainly right,” said Edwards. “I am not capable of arguing with you; but I imagine there are great temptations in a great degree of riches, which it is no easy matter to resist: those a poor man like me cannot describe, because he never knew them; and perhaps I have reason to bless God that I never did; for then, it is likely, I should have withstood them no better than my neighbours. For you know, sir, that it is not the fashion now, as it was in former times, that I have read of in books, when your great generals died so poor, that they did not leave wherewithal to buy them a coffin; and people thought the better of their memories for it: if they did so now-a-days, I question if any body, except yourself, and some few like you, would thank them.” “I am sorry,” replied Harley, “that there is so much truth in what you say; but however the general current of opinion may point, the feelings are not yet lost that applaud benevolence, and censure inhumanity. Let us endeavour to strengthen them in ourselves; and we, who live sequestered from the noise of the multitude, have better opportunities of listening undisturbed to their voice.” They now approached the little dwelling of Edwards. A maid-servant, whom he had hired to assist him in the care of his grandchildren met them a little way from the house: “There is a young lady within with the children,” said she. Edwards expressed his surprise at the visit: it was however not the less true; and we mean to account for it.