It makes one's
heart ache to think, that one man is born to the inheritance of every
superfluity, while the whole share of another, without any demerit of
his, is drudgery and starving; and that all this is indispensable. We
that are rich, Mr. Tyrrel, must do every thing in our power to lighten
the yoke of these unfortunate people. We must not use the advantage that
accident has given us with an unmerciful hand. Poor wretches! they are
pressed almost beyond bearing as it is; and, if we unfeelingly give
another turn to the machine, they will be crushed into atoms."
This picture was not without its effect, even upon the obdurate mind of
Mr. Tyrrel.--"Well, sir, I am no tyrant. I know very well that tyranny
is a bad thing. But you do not infer from thence that these people are
to do as they please, and never meet with their deserts?"
"Mr. Tyrrel, I see that you are shaken in your animosity. Suffer me to
hail the new-born benevolence of your nature. Go with me to Hawkins. Do
not let us talk of his deserts! Poor fellow! he has suffered almost all
that human nature can endure.
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