We went immediately into the house. Sir Charles had slept near an hour, and was something better; he called Charles with a faint, yet a distinct voice, as soon as he heard him enter the room; he approached the bed and threw himself upon his knees, he took hold of his father’s hand and kissed it several times with a kind of eager respect; what sensibility, what sincerity and grief, did I not see in his countenance! The tears were rolling fast down his cheeks, it would be impossible to delineate the scene.—What does my father want? asked he; what would he say to his son? I wish, answered Sir Charles, to tell you, that your duty and affection will soften the pangs of death, your mother will still have a friend, your sister a protector, and your past behaviour makes me rely on your future. You weep, grieve not my son, sometime or other we must have been separated, but if you obey your heavenly father we shall meet again, where death has no dominion. CHARLES. But, my dear father, if you recover now, I might die before you. SIR CHARLES. Would you then, Charles, rather have me suffer, than endure grief yourself? Do you love me? CHARLES. Do I love you!—I love you more than I love myself. SIR CHARLES. No, my dear, you are mistaken; you love yourself better, or you would not wish me to live in a world where there are so many cares and sorrows. CHARLES. It is true, but I pray forgive me, I cannot help wishing to keep you here. I cannot forbear thinking how unhappy I shall be, when I lose my father; I have such need of your wise counsel, you are the guide of my youth,—my first friend. SIR CHARLES. You will still have a good mother, and you have a Father in heaven, who will never leave you nor forsake you; reconcile your mind to the event: if I die, recollect that I am only gone a little while before you; be virtuous, remember your Creator, fulfil all your duties to your fellow-creatures, and you will without fear wait for the last solemn hour, and the moment when we shall meet again.—But I have said sufficient, submit yourself to the Ruler of the universe, who loves you even better than I do. My friend Charles rose up, and retired from the bed, without being able to speak, his heart was full, he threw himself into a chair. My father, said he, has commanded me to submit to the will of heaven; this affecting command is, perhaps, the last I shall ever receive from his dear mouth.—Well then, I must, I will be resigned. I will suppress my grief as well as I can, and wait the event with fortitude; my father has taught me how to live, and I shall now learn of him how to die; by imitating his virtues, I may be thought worthy to dwell with him in heaven, to meet him never to part again.