It may easily be imagined, that this event was much talked of; indeed, many ladies and gentlemen called on Henry’s parents, in order to be more particularly informed on the subject; and by this means it was that I became acquainted with the facts I have just detailed. Numerous were the comments and compliments of the visitors, but happily for my little master, he heard very few of them. One lady in particular, after she had for some time extolled the child’s generosity, said (addressing his father,) “but surely, Sir, you still intend to get him a poney: I wish you would allow me to send him one.” “Madam,” replied the sensible father, “I am greatly obliged to you, but I cannot allow Henry to have a poney till he has earned it: if he has done a good action, that must be his reward at present. Were I to reward him for it, two bad consequences would ensue; he might hereafter pretend to be generous from self-interest or vanity, for it would not be difficult to make a show of resigning what he was sure to obtain afterwards; and he might be taught to expect a reward for his good actions here, whereas, experience shows that kindness is frequently not only unrequited, but is even returned by ingratitude and enmity.” “Indeed, that is too true,” returned the lady, “but I should have thought your observations more applicable to a grown person than to a child.” “That,” said the father, “is, I know, a very general idea; but it is precisely because I expect Henry to become a _grown person_, and because I should wish him then to have such sentiments, that I now endeavour to inculcate them. The human heart cannot be too early formed to virtue: good principles cannot be impressed too soon.” This and many similar arguments used by Henry’s father, convinced me of the propriety of his conduct with regard to his children: his prudence was amply rewarded by their improvement, for they daily became such as he desired they should be. My dear little master’s sister, the amiable Mary, came home shortly after this time for the Midsummer vacation, and it was then settled that she should not return to school, but that her mamma, (whose health had been delicate for some time, but was now considerably amended,) should, with some assistance, superintend her education. This arrangement was highly pleasing to all parties, and I partook of the general joy; for Mary was a charming girl, and her presence added to my happiness as well as to that of my young master. The summer of this year passed delightfully with me, for I had one great enjoyment, to which I had long been a stranger. Henry one day conversing with his sister about me, at the open window, before which was a balcony, regretted keeping me confined to the house. “Do you know, said he, I have a great mind to let him out; if I lose him by the experiment, I must console myself by thinking that he will be happier in the possession of his liberty: but I really think he will not go away, so let us try.”