All I have ever heard against Hardy is that he is not a man to pay ten dollars for what is only worth five--which means in point of fact that Henry will not get very big wages. Still he gets his keep--and good keep too, as I can testify--and will soon get something else besides; and meantime he is in a clean house, among a fairly civilized and certainly good-natured set of people, and with a very comfortable room to himself. When he is two or three years older, he will be able to see his own interests clearly, and to know his own worth, and then if he could benefit himself by a change, let him do so. Henry is at present very young for his years, and has a good many ways and ideas which time will moderate. On an old fossil like Crabtree these youthful vagaries would jar continually, that is, I think, they might; while on Hardy they had just the opposite effect. He seemed to be a good deal amused with Henry--not at all satirically. He seemed to think he was rather good company, and his laugh is so peculiar that he has only to show an incipient inclination to grin, and Henry is ready to join him at once. I had a sort of message from him (Henry) to-day. Your letter was sent to Eton Corner, and Henry sent it on to me enclosed in a note, to the effect that he liked the work immensely, and would write on Sunday. Just received two more letters from you. I was awfully sorry to hear about poor Uncle James. My god-father, wasn't he? Poor fellow! He was always honour itself, and would spend his last dollar in paying a lawyer to give his property to somebody else if he thought it belonged to them, in moral justice. Well, I am very sorry to hear about it, and that's about all I can say. I never saw very much of him; but what I have seen was nothing but what was good--generosity, kindness, honour, and a certain grim good-nature--all his own.