We have been greatly alarmed, dear mother. Mr. Wilson’s house was last night burned to the ground. Oh what frightful flames! The air was as red as blood; my heart beat very strong, I trembled lest the family should be destroyed in their beds.—It was dreadful to see such devastation by fire; how careful we ought to be to avoid the sudden horror of so terrible a calamity. If they had been careful, this misfortune would not have happened; the two Miss Wilsons were the occasion of it. They had in the evening, without its being observed, lighted a fire in their play-room; and spread the coals on the hearth to bake privately some cakes. The fire must certainly have caught the boards; but they did not perceive it; as they were interrupted before the cakes were half baked, and obliged to go to their mother, who called for them. They swallowed hastily the unwholesome, and even unpalatable cakes, and shut the door without thinking any more about it. The flames did not burst out till the whole family had been some time fast asleep. There is not any thing saved. All the furniture, clothes, and the stock of the farm were reduced to ashes. The poor girls escaped with only a single petticoat on; and Mrs. Wilson was with difficulty rescued from the devouring flames, which consumed all her substance. What will now become of that pride, which made the Miss Wilsons treat with such disdain the neighbouring farmers daughters, because they were their inferiors in birth and fortune—and now they are happy to find a shelter in the houses they despised. Indeed, mama, I will obey you, and ever behave with kindness to my inferiors. But I have something else to tell you, and I am sure you will not be angry with me; I sent some of my clothes to the Miss Wilson, who is about my size; I have more than I want—and surely, mama, if that was not the case, I ought cheerfully to bear a trifling inconvenience to do a fellow-creature an essential service. Wearing for the first time new clothes, never gave me half the pleasure—no, it cannot be compared with what I felt, when I gave away my old ones. I did not send my best (though I would have parted with them without feeling any reluctance) as I thought, common clothes would suit her better. Farewel, dear mother. EMILIA. LETTER XXIII. _Young_ GRANDISON _to his_ FATHER.