my dear friend’s two letters； one for Wednesday and one for Saturday。 This is again Wednesday。 I do not deserve one for today； 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 tomorrow to see you； instead of spending this Wednesday evening； as I have done its namesakes； in your delightful pany； 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 mean time； 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 bee 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 t