Charles soon contrived to get into conversation with him, and observed that he must suffer very severely from the cold, for the poor wretch was afraid to go down into the cabin, his breath was so very short. I do suffer, replied the invalid, but heaven will strengthen me; I have already, during the course of my life, been enabled to bear more than I imagined I could ever have endured.—Charles interrupted him, and pulling off his great coat, said, see now what heaven sends you. I am young and in good health, and can bear cold much better than you. The sick man viewed him with astonishment. Edward, who was at a little distance, ran up and whispered Charles, what are you going to fight? Yes, answered Charles, a little disconcerted, I am going to fight against the cold, to preserve this poor man from it, who might, perhaps, catch his death. He then helped him to put it on, and hastily left him, not only to avoid his thanks, but to prevent any one else from observing what he termed a common act of humanity. Edward still went on, extolling his benevolence; he stopped him, saying—What have I done? Is it such a great act of benevolence for one who is in good health and strong, to give his great coat to a poor sick man benumbed with cold? One of the emperors of China, when in the field of battle, gave his own fur cloak to one of his officers, saying, when his nobles seemed to wonder at it, that he wished he was able to give a cloak to every one of his soldiers. Should I, then, regard myself more than a monarch who looks upon himself as the ruler of the whole earth, said he, laughing; and then began to talk about something else. Charles and Edward are gone out a riding, and I staid at home to write to you. They are come home, I hear Charles singing as he walks along the passage—he has charming spirits. IN CONTINUATION. Charles entered my room;—You are writing to Mr. Landbergen, I suppose, said he, will you give me leave to add a few words; but fold up your letter, for I do not want to see what you have written; letters are sacred even as our thoughts, and a friend should not take advantage of the confidence reposed in him. Dr. Bartlett has often cautioned me always to keep up a little ceremony with a friend, and repeated the old proverb, that too much familiarity breeds contempt. I have scarcely left him room to write a line. Adieu, WILLIAM. P. S. I have only just room to tell you that we are all well and happy. I will soon write you a long letter, in the mean time present my respects to your father, and believe me to be your affectionate friend CHARLES. LETTER XXXVII. LANDBERGEN _to_ CHARLES.