EDWARD. I am curious to know, what my uncle will say of this pretty trick; he has always spoken slightingly of young Falkland. CHARLES. That is a sign he could penetrate into his mind, and saw his bad temper. I will, in future, pay more attention to his advice, and observations on characters. But now I think of it, Edward, we will not tell my father that Falkland poisoned my dog. Let us try to make him feel ashamed, by shewing him we despise revenge—I should like to mortify him this way. WILLIAM. You are very generous. CHARLES. Let us talk of something else—my dog is dead, I will try to make myself easy—I wish I could forget the torments it endured.—It is a very fine evening. EDWARD. Look, look! What do I see yonder in that tree? WILLIAM. It is a parrot. EDWARD. How fortunate!—It is Falkland’s parrot; it has flown away from him, and perched itself there: it looks frightened. How vexed he will be—he should not have that creature again for ten guineas. CHARLES. How the poor creature trembles.—I can climb softly up the tree and catch it;—do not make a noise. EDWARD. And so you will send it to Falkland again, to please him. CHARLES. No, for something else. EDWARD. He has killed your dog, and you will allow his favourite parrot to live when it is in your power. I think it mean-spirited.—Can you have a better opportunity to revenge yourself on that rascal? CHARLES. Yes, I can take a more noble revenge; by returning good for evil, I shall let him see how much I am his superior: and that will highly gratify me. Immediately Charles mounted the tree, and caught the bird, whose feet were entangled in the branches. He then sent it by a servant to Falkland—and returned to us with a smiling face; I hardly ever saw so much satisfaction in his countenance: and when Edward still continued to laugh at him, he replied, I felt pleasure in returning good for evil, my pride impelled me to act thus, as well as a sense of duty; I do not pretend to any great merit in conquering one feeling to gratify another, but I should have been inexcusable if I had tormented an innocent helpless bird, merely to vex a being I despise. Nay, my anger would have been mean and selfish; I should only resent the loss of my dog, and not feel indignation on account of the vices this loss has forced me to discover in a character I was partial to. I shall forget my dog, long before I shall be able to drive from my remembrance a cruel action done by a fellow-creature. Charles looked teased, and Edward ceased to blame him,—and I tried to amuse him.