‘In life, prizes must be to a great extent the reward of thoughtful industry, and it seems to me that on the one hand we may thereby teach the children to put success at its true value, and point out to them that it is at the bar of our own conscience alone that we must stand approved or condemned; that on the other hand they may learn to bear disappointment patiently. I do not find that prizes create any feelings of jealousy or ill-will, nor can I blame a child who looks forward with pleasure to carrying home to her parents this proof that she has tried to do as they would have her. It appears to me a matter of less importance than is usually supposed, and in any case can affect only a few pupils at the head of a class. Stimulants to exertion, however, are rarely needed. There are very few who are not interested and earnest in their work, and our difficulty is more frequently to check too great zeal, and to insist on the observation of those limits we place to the time devoted to study than to demand more.’ The high ideal of _deserving_ rather than _gaining_ was what Miss Beale set before herself as true wealth to be desired. So she was careful, when the management of large public funds and a much increased personal income came to her, to remain as frugal, as poor as ever. It was not merely that she liked simplicity. Her simplicity of life was a deliberate intention. There was a personal note in the fervour with which she would read the words of Abraham to the king of Sodom: ‘I will not take from a thread even to a shoe-latchet, ... lest thou shouldest say, I have made Abram rich.’ No monk was ever more faithful to his chosen bride of Poverty than Miss Beale remained with her large income and successful investments. She was consistent also in preferring for those she loved a simple personal life, which would leave mind and time free for thought and the needs of others.