Always a leader in these amusements was Henry Longfellow. His lively nature found especial delight in social pleasures. In fact, when he was but eight months old his mother discovered that he wished "for nothing so much as singing and dancing." Then, too, he was fond of playing ball, of swimming, coasting and skating and of all the other ordinary games and sports. However, he was an especially thoughtful boy, and even from his earliest years was a very conscientious student and took pride in making a good record at school. During the years passed at the Portland Academy, where he was placed when six years old, he worked so industriously and with such excellent results that although he found it very hard--too hard in fact--to be perfect in deportment, his earnest efforts were recognized by the master of the school who sent home from time to time a _billet_ or short statement in which Henry's recitations and his general conduct were highly praised. The _billet_ was a matter of no small consequence to the boy, at least in the earliest part of his school life, for in his first letter--a few lines written with much labor when he was seven years old, and sent to his father in Boston--one of the four sentences that make up the curt little note announces with due pride, "I shall have a billet on Monday." While the boy was pursuing his regular studies at school, he found interest in reading other books than those required in his school course--various English classics contained in his father's library. Like the delight that he felt in such reading, was that which he found in rambling through the woods on the outskirts of the town and about the farms of his two grandfathers and of his uncle Stephenson. He liked the quiet of natural scenes, and was moved with deep wonder by the ever-changing beauty of the woods and fields, the ocean and the mountains. Because of this genuine love for nature and his tender regard for every living creature, he could not share his companions' pleasure in hunting expeditions. Indeed, it is said that on one occasion when he had shot a robin, he became so filled with pity and sorrow for the little dead bird that he could never again take part in such cruel sport. It was not long before the effect of the combined influences of Henry Longfellow's reading of classic poets and of his rambles about the country surrounding his native town was made apparent in an event that doubtless seemed to him then to be the most important that had befallen in his career of thirteen years. He had been visiting his grandfather Wadsworth at Hiram, and while there had gone to a near-by town where is situated Lovell's Pond, memorable as the scene of a struggle with the Indians.