_Mr. B._ That cannot concern you at all, Louisa. His name is of no consequence to the moral of my tale. _Edward._ Louisa is always so curious; we often laugh at her for it. _Mrs. B._ It is a foolish and dangerous propensity, when it is carried into the minor concerns of life. A laudable curiosity, whose object is the improvement of the mind, should at all times be encouraged; and you will never, on such occasions, find either your father or myself, backward in satisfying it to the best of our abilities. _Louisa._ I have been often told that it is wrong, mamma, and will really try to amend. _Mr. B._ I most earnestly wish you success in your endeavour, Louisa. Curiosity was the fault of our first parents, you know. How much misery did this fatal propensity in Eve, entail upon the human race! _Ferdinand._ Oh, mamma, may I tell Louisa that droll story, which I read to you the other day, about the poor wood-cutter's wife? _Mrs. B._ I have no objection, provided Louisa would like to hear it. _Louisa._ Yes, I should, mamma; for I do not mind being told of my faults, because I wish to amend them. "That is perfectly right, my love," said Mrs. Bernard: "I admire your candour, and have no doubt that, with such a desire, your efforts will prove successful. She then requested Ferdinand to begin his story, which he did, as follows: "A gentleman riding one morning through a wood, saw a poor man very busily employed in cutting down trees, whilst his wife was collecting the branches into bundles. She sighed heavily, from heat and fatigue, and complained sadly of their hard fate, laying all the blame upon Adam and Eve, whose fatal curiosity was the cause of man's being obliged to earn his bread by such hard labour. The gentleman got off his horse, and going up to these poor people, he began to talk to the woman, and enquired, whether, if she had been in Eve's place, she would not have been very likely to have done the same thing. 'No,' said the woman: 'if I had every thing necessary for me, without working, I should certainly be quite contented." 'Well,' said the gentleman, 'in order to silence your complaints, I will take you and your husband to my own house, where you shall have apartments to yourselves, servants to wait upon you, a carriage to attend you, and my park and gardens to amuse yourselves in. The continuance of these enjoyments shall depend entirely upon yourselves. You shall have a table spread with dishes; but the middle dish shall always remain covered, and if ever you uncover it, to examine its contents, you shall immediately return to your present situation.' The poor man and woman were delighted with the gentleman's proposal. The very next day, they removed to their new abode. The novelty of every object with which they were surrounded, filled them with delight. For some time they enjoyed themselves extremely, and never once thought of the covered dish; but, by degrees, all these delights lost the charm of novelty.