I then thought how agreeably I should surprise my mother. When she returned home, I eagerly brought the coat, and asked her what she thought of it, and if it pleased her? She replied, exceedingly, but this undoubtedly cost you more than twelve ducats? Much less, interrupted I; I gave no more than nine for it. I looked at her, expecting to see her smile, but, to my great surprise, saw her assume a very serious countenance, saying, that coat is worth fourteen or fifteen ducats, and did you buy it for nine? I had a better opinion of your principles: the person who sold it was probably impelled by poverty, and could you find in your heart to give but half the value for it?—could you defraud the poor? Would you not, every time you put it on, think with concern of him whose misfortunes you took advantage of. Ah! my dear mother, I have done wrong: you really think it worth fourteen ducats, I will instantly go and seek for the owner: my cousin made me a present yesterday, to buy something new with before I went to London; let me do justice, and give my six ducats to the necessitous owner of my coat whom I inconsiderately injured. Indeed I would not add to the misery of the unfortunate. Go, William, replied she, and let it make you more prudent for the future; a man of honour must never buy any thing for less than the value, because it is always sold by a person in distress, or by Some one who has obtained it in a dishonest manner, and with such, an honest man must have no dealings. To overreach a person in any respect is worse than a robbery, because here you do not expose yourself to any danger. A mean action is generally done to save money for some selfish pleasure; justice is the foundation of every virtue, and he who does not respect himself, will never be a virtuous character. I was ashamed of my fault, as you may suppose, and could not be easy until I went to pay the money, and make an apology for my conduct. I found that the coat was bought of a young man whose mother was in great distress; my heart smote me when I heard of it. How glad I am my mother showed me this action in its true light; for having heard many people speak with pleasure of a bargain, I thought I had done something very clever. I have learned from this accident to distrust my own judgment, and shall constantly apply to my mother for advice, till I have more experience to judge for myself. How painful it is not to have the means of doing good, for I now think I ought to have sent back the coat, and to have made that dutiful son a present of the money; but then my mother could not afford to buy me another coat when I want it, and I must submit to my circumstances. Farewell, my dear Charles; remember me to all my kind friends at Grandison Hall, not forgetting Emilia. WILLIAM. LETTER XXI. EMILIA _to_ CHARLOTTE.