LETTER XIX. WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. Sir Charles and Lady Grandison have been for some days from home; but Dr. Bartlett is with us. The house-keeper, and all the servants, consult Emilia, and she, in the most modest manner, tells them what she knows her mother wishes them to do. She is not allowed to command any of them; the house-keeper in particular, a respectable woman, Lady Grandison said, ought not to receive orders from a child; but she behaves with such propriety, they are all eager to oblige her; indeed she follows her brother’s example. Edward, on the contrary, does nothing but romp and wrestle, and afterwards quarrel with them. He hates all employment; I should imagine, those who do not learn when they are young, must appear very foolish when they are old. You shall hear what Charles said to him yesterday. Charles, Emilia, and I sat on one side of the room, drawing; while Edward tied a thread to a beetle—and often he would jump, as if by accident, against our chairs, to disturb us and make us leave our employment. Charles spoke to him. CHARLES. Ah, Edward, what pleasure can you find in torturing a poor insect? It turns me sick to see you; pray let it go! EDWARD. And what do you do, when you and William set the butterflies on a needle to look at them through your fine microscope? That pleases you, and this pleases me. CHARLES. If William and I set the butterflies on a needle, only for our amusement, it would be wrong; but we do it to instruct ourselves—yet, though we seek instruction, I could not bear to torture them; the sight of their agonies would engross my whole attention. Dr. Bartlett has taught me to kill them expeditiously without injuring their appearance. I then gratify my curiosity without hardening my heart, for that tender-hearted man, our dear tutor, often says, that even the attainment of knowledge cannot compensate for a quick emotion of benevolence, banished by a habit of thoughtless cruelty. He wishes to make me wise; but still more ardently to incite me to practise goodness, to shew kindness to the insects who crawl under my feet; and to let my love mount up from them to the beings, who, while they enjoy the blessings of heaven, can recognize the hand which bestows them. EDWARD. Well, if you will come with me into the garden, I will let it go. CHARLES. That is to say, that if I refuse to go with you, you will continue to torment the poor insect. It is not it’s fault if I do not go with you—surely this is not right; but I will accompany you. EMILIA. It begins to rain. CHARLES. Shall I read to you? I have got a very entertaining book. EDWARD. You know I do not love reading.