My friend Charles is returned, dear mother; with what joy was he received. The servants were all in the lobby to wish him health and long life to enjoy his estate; and the tenants gathered about the gate, and uttered their good wishes in a most audible roar. The next day many of the neighbouring families came to congratulate him. An old gardener, who has lived thirty or forty years in the family, and is allowed to cultivate a little farm in the pleasure grounds, came this morning, just after some company had left us, leaning on his crutch. Charles received him not only with civility, but kindness; and the venerable grey-headed man’s blessing brought tears into his eyes. See if he is not going to weep, said Edward, as soon as the gardener’s back was turned; would you not think, William, that he received more pleasure from that old man’s visit, than all the rest of the visitors afforded him. You have just guessed it, replied Charles; his simple earnest prayers for my preservation seemed to come from his heart, and they went much nearer mine than all the fine compliments I before heard dropped with a cool tone of voice. But I must not forget to tell you, that Charles, soon after his arrival, entreated his father to take the estate for some time into his own hands. I should be very unhappy, my dear parent, to be independent of you; receiving favours from you, is the greatest pleasure of my life—O do not deprive me of it! Sir Charles appeared affected, and said, I will manage it for you, my son, and we will together visit the different farms; you shall enquire into all the family concerns of your tenants, and become the protector and friend of those who, in some measure, are dependant on you. You will then be able to judge of their wants, and animate their industry. We are soon to return to London: I shall not perhaps have an opportunity of writing again before we set off, but certainly will the day we reach town. WILLIAM. LETTER L. WILLIAM _to his_ MOTHER. Last night, dear mother, we again entered this great city; I should have written as I promised, but I was too late for the post, and I have a long story to tell you. Poor Harry broke his leg while we were on the road; a hack-horse threw him, as he was turning suddenly to open a gate. Charles ran to him, and supported him in the carriage till we arrived at a large town; soon after we reached it, Sir Charles, who was in another carriage with Lady Grandison, Emilia, and Edward, overtook us, and were instantly informed of the accident. A surgeon was immediately sent for, and the bone set; but his leg was shattered in such a dreadful manner, the surgeon apprehends he will always be a cripple. Sir Charles staid in the room while the operation was performed, to support Harry’s spirits.