Eighteen pounds, replied the man.

And are you really di&longs;tre&longs;&longs;ed for the money?

No; thank my prudence for that; I have taken
care of the main chance, and not like Heartfree,
loved others more than my&longs;elf.

I fear you have not loved them &longs;o well, my
friend.

Why no, to be &longs;ure! I follow the fir&longs;t law of nature,
&longs;elf-pre&longs;ervation.

And why not follow the fir&longs;t rule of Chri&longs;tianity,
to do as you would be done by?

Why look ye, Sir; I always pay my debts punctually,
and I expect others &longs;hould pay me as punctually.

Certainly.—But &longs;uppo&longs;e a man who has an hone&longs;t
heart, &longs;hould, by unavoidable misfortunes, be rendered
unable to di&longs;charge his debts; is it not better
to tru&longs;t to his honor, rather than by confining him,
put it entirely out of his power to pay you at all?

Tru&longs;t to his honor—eh! you know but little of
this world, to talk at that rate: why this very Heartfree
was ruined by tru&longs;ting to a per&longs;on's honor. An
old officer lodged in his hou&longs;e for many years, borrowed
money of him, run in his debt for linen for
his whole family, and when I have talked to Heartfree
about the impropriety of his conduct in not asking
for payment, he would an&longs;wer—I am &longs;ure he
will pay me whenever he has it in his power—but
before it was in his power, he died, leaving four
children without the lea&longs;t &longs;upport. The elde&longs;t was
about twenty; a fine young girl to be &longs;ure, but &longs;he
had been brought up in idlene&longs;s. She could embroider,
draw, dance, &longs;ing, and play upon the spinnet;
but that would not keep her; &longs;o I advi&longs;ed
Heartfree to try and get her a place to wait on a lady.
To put the two younger girls out apprentice,
and take the boy to go of errands, clean &longs;hoes,

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knives, &c, in his own kitchen; but he for&longs;ooth
&longs;aid no; the children of a man who had &longs;pent his
days in the &longs;ervice of his country, &longs;hould never want
an a&longs;ylum while he had a hou&longs;e; nor the innocent
orphans want a friend, while he lived: &longs;o he married
the elde&longs;t, and put her &longs;i&longs;ters to &longs;chool, were,
luckily, they both died.—The boy he &longs;ent to the
Ea&longs;t Indies about &longs;even years ago, after &longs;pending
an enormous &longs;um on his education.—His wife bred
very fa&longs;t, and was quite the fine lady; &longs;o what with
extravagance, and a few lo&longs;&longs;es, from being one of
the fir&longs;t linen-drapers in the city, he is become a
bankrupt, and, as I &longs;uppo&longs;e, has not bread to eat.

And for his humanity, &longs;aid I—you would reward
him with a pri&longs;on; rob his wife and children of their
only comfort, the pre&longs;ence of their father and their
friend—and of what u&longs;e will it be to you?

I don't know that it will be of much u&longs;e to me, he
replied; but it will teach Heartfree to remember
him&longs;elf before others, another time.

The remembrance of what he has done for others,
&longs;aid I, &longs;o far from &longs;itting painful on his mind, will
&longs;mooth the thorny pillow of di&longs;tre&longs;s, and make even
a pri&longs;on plea&longs;ant; he &longs;hall &longs;leep &longs;oundly on a bed
of &longs;traw, and dream of tho&longs;e who&longs;e &longs;orrows he has
lightened, while you &longs;hall feel &longs;corpions on a bed
of down: nor &longs;hall the &longs;weet re&longs;torer of tired nature
vi&longs;it you, unle&longs;s it be to fright you with &longs;ome dreadful
vi&longs;ion of pri&longs;ons and &longs;tarving wretches.

I turned from him with hone&longs;t indignation, and
calling to the fruiterer, gave him the money to discharge
the debt.—I would not tru&longs;t my&longs;elf to &longs;peak
to the man again who could &longs;o &longs;hamefully trample
on the laws of humanity.—The poor boy was weeping,
his face hid with his hands. Go home, child,
&longs;aid I—your father's debt is paid. He &longs;taid not to
thank me; but the plea&longs;ure that &longs;parkled in his eye,

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the agility with which he &longs;prang from his &longs;eat, and
flew towards his home, conveyed a greater plea&longs;ure
to my heart, than the mo&longs;t eloquent effu&longs;ions of gratitude.—
I was willing to be a witne&longs;s of his relating
the &longs;tory to his parents; &longs;o putting on my ring. I
followed him un&longs;een.