LETTER XXI.
Mrs. D—— to WILLIAM.
I admire Emilia, she is a good, and a pleasing girl; there is not a more amiable virtue than compassion. It is much to be wished that all young ladies would take her for their pattern; and, instead of falling into the two shameful extremes, familiarity and haughtiness, which are often to be observed in the same character, they would treat their servants with humanity and decent kindness. You know how frequently I have praised you for your affability to your inferiors.—But, William, why are you grieved that I have but one servant? A number of servants are not necessary; they serve more for shew than use. Had I riches, I would try not to waste the precious deposit; I would live according to my station. And while my own real and artificial wants were supplied, I should think with pleasure, that though so many servants were not necessary to wait on me, I enabled some industrious fellow-creatures to earn an honest livelihood; and by humane treatment made their labour pleasant. But since it has not pleased heaven to give me riches, I am content, and thankful that I can keep a girl to do the most laborious and menial part of my household business, which I could not do without injuring my health, and neglecting your sister’s education. I am not in absolute need of any more assistance. And what now is that employment, which, you say, is unbecoming the widow of a colonel? You wrote hastily, it is not dishonourable to serve ourselves when we cannot afford to pay for the services of others. It will be more satisfaction to you, to be able to say, after my death, my mother provided her own dinner; her clothes were the work of her hands; her economy made up for the deficiencies of fortune; and her virtues made her respectable; than if you heard your parent reproached, for living according to her rank, and birth. She had a fine house, rich furniture, a number of servants; but she has left nothing behind her; and what is still worse, has injured several industrious people who trusted to her honour. What would then be the son of a colonel? A despised youth, who, though innocent, must blush for his mother’s want of thought and justice. The son of a reputable tradesman, would scarcely acknowledge him as an equal; but I have laid enough, I hope, to dissipate your false pride and concern for me: you find I am satisfied with my station. Again let me tell you, your letters are a comfort to me; was I much poorer than I am, I should still esteem myself rich in the possession of such a son.
Farewel, my dear William, regulate and follow the good inclinations I have endeavoured to cultivate, then you will not only be the comfort of your mother, but the protector of your sister.
D.