I received my dear friend's two letters, one for Wednesday and one for
Saturday. This is again Wednesday. I do not deserve one for to-day,
because I have not answered the former. But, indolent as I am, and
averse to writing, the fear of having no more of your pleasing epistles,
if I do not contribute to the correspondence, obliges me to take up my
pen; and as Mr. B. has kindly sent me word that he sets out to-morrow to
see you, instead of spending this Wednesday evening, as I have done its
namesakes, in your delightful company, I sit down to spend it in
thinking of you, in writing to you, and in reading over and over again
your letters.
I am charmed with your description of Paradise, and with your plan of
living there; and I approve much of your conclusion, that, in the
meantime, we should draw all the good we can from this world. In my
opinion we might all draw more good from it than we do, and suffer less
evil, if we would take care not to give too much for _whistles_. For to
me it seems that most of the unhappy people we meet with are become so
by neglect of that caution.
You ask what I mean? You love stories, and will excuse my telling one of
myself.
When I was a child of seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled
my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys
for children; and being charmed with the sound of a _whistle_, that I
met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and
gave all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over
the house, much pleased with my _whistle_, but disturbing all the
family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain
I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was
worth; put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest
of the money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with
vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the _whistle_
gave me pleasure.
This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on
my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary
thing, I said to myself, _Don't give too much for the whistle_; and I
saved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I
thought I met with many, very many, _who gave too much for the whistle_.
When I saw one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his time in
attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps
his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, _This man gives too
much for his whistle_.
When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in
political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that
neglect, _He pays, indeed_, said I, _too much for his whistle_.
If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the
pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens,
and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating
wealth, _Poor man_, said I, _you pay too much for your whistle_.
When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable
improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal
sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit, _Mistaken man_,
said I, _you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you
give too much for your whistle_.
If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, fine
furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts
debts, and ends his career in a prison, _Alas!_ say I, _he has paid
dear, very dear, for his whistle_.
When I see a beautiful sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-natured
brute of a husband, _What a pity_, say I, _that she should pay so much
for a whistle_!
In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are
brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of
things, and by their _giving too much for their whistles_.
Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I consider
that, with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain
things in the world so tempting, for example, the apples of King John,
which happily are not to be bought; for if they were put to sale by
auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, and
find that I had once more given too much for the _whistle_.
Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours very sincerely and with
unalterable affection.