You were right, my dear Emilia, when you imagined I could not be angry with you for following the humane dictates of your heart. As a proof of my approbation of your conduct, and to reward you for it, I will give you another opportunity of experiencing the pleasure which arises from benevolence. You will find in my drawers a piece of calico; send for the mantua-maker, and desire her to make Mrs. and Miss Wilson a dress immediately. I know this commission will afford you more pleasure, than if I gave it you for yourself. But, my Emilia, why did you mention their faults, when you related the circumstances which made them truly objects to excite my commiseration. You might silently have determined to behave properly to your inferiors, without exhibiting the disagreeable picture of their haughtiness, when it was receiving a severe chastisement. Never, my child, add to the miseries of others, even though the sufferers should be unworthy.—Be tender-hearted in every sense of the word. I do not mean to chide you, when I point out an error; you are a good girl.—You were judicious in not sending your best clothes; you considered the wants of the person you wished to assist, and your generosity had not that tincture of vanity which very frequently degrades it. Always, my child, define rather to do good, than to display your goodness: remember that the best of Beings notes your secret thoughts; and that it is truly noble to have sometimes his approbation singly in view. Farewel, forget not the useful lesson you have given yourself, never to be proud of clothes or furniture; an unforeseen casualty might deprive you of them, and even the riches which procured them. “Lay up then a treasure in heaven; where neither rust, nor moth can corrupt; nor thieves break through and steal.” HARRIOT GRANDISON. LETTER XXVI. CHARLES _to his_ FATHER. What a pleasure you have allowed me to enjoy, my dear father! indeed I know not how to thank you for it; but I will tell you how happy you have made Mr. Wilson, and that will reward you. The tears rolled down his cheeks as he pressed the hand I held out;—but I must relate the particulars. Mr. Wilson has a great spirit; I was afraid it would hurt him to receive a present from a boy; I wished to have put it in his snuff-box, to have avoided hurting his delicacy; but I could not contrive to do it unobserved. I then offered to lend him the sum he wanted, and refused a note he would have given me, and ran out of the house—I did not want thanks—I rather wished to thank God for permitting me to relieve a fellow-creature. I am, dear Sir, your affectionate and dutiful son, CHARLES GRANDISON. LETTER XXVII. WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER.