Mr. L. was one morning riding by himself, when dismounting to gather a plant in the hedge, his horse got loose and galloped away before him. He followed, calling the horse by his name, which stopped, but on his approach set off again. At length, a little boy in a neighbouring field, seeing the affair, ran across where the road made a turn, and getting before the horse, took him by the bridle, and held him till his owner came up. Mr. L. looked at the boy, and admired his ruddy, cheerful countenance.

“Thank you, my good lad!” said he; “you have caught my horse very cleverly. What shall I give you for your trouble?” putting his hand in his pocket.

Boy. I want nothing, sir.

Mr. L. Don’t you? so much the better for you. Few men can say as much. But pray, what are you doing in the field?

Boy. I was rooting up weeds and tending the sheep that are feeding on the turnips.

Mr. L. And do you like this employment?

Boy. Yes, very well, this fine weather.

Mr. L. But had you not rather play?

Boy. This is not hard work; it is almost as good as play.

Mr. L. Who set you to work?

Boy. My daddy, sir.

Mr. L. Where does he live?

Boy. Just by, among the trees there.

Mr. L. What is his name?

Boy. Thomas Hurdle.

Mr. L. And what is yours?

Boy. Peter, sir.

Mr. L. How old are you?

Boy. I shall be eight at Michaelmas.

Mr. L. How long have you been out in this field?

Boy. Ever since six in the morning.

Mr. L. And are not you hungry?

Boy. Yes—I shall go to dinner soon.

Mr. L. If you had sixpence now, what would you do with it?

Boy. I don’t know. I never had so much in my life.

Mr. L. Have you no playthings?

Boy. Playthings! what are those?

Mr. L. Such as balls, nine-pins, marbles, tops, and wooden horses.

Boy. No, sir; but our Tom makes footballs to kick in the cold weather, and we set traps for birds; and then I have a jumping-pole and a pair of stilts to walk through the dirt with; and I had a hoop, but it is broke.

Mr. L. And do you want nothing else?

Boy. No. I have hardly time for those: for I always ride the horses to field, and bring up the cows, and run to the town of errands, and that is as good as play, you know.

Mr. L. Well, but you could buy apples or gingerbread at the town, I suppose, if you had money?

Boy. Oh—I can get apples at home; and as for gingerbread I don’t mind it much, for my mammy gives me a pie now and then, and that is as good.

Mr. L. Would you not like a knife to cut sticks?

Boy. I have one—here it is—brother Tom gave it me.

Mr. L. Your shoes are full of holes—don’t you want a better pair?

Boy. I have a better pair for Sundays.

Mr. L. But these let in water.

Boy. Oh, I don’t care for that.

Mr. L. Your hat is all torn, too.

Boy. I have a better at home, but I had as leave have none at all, for it hurts my head.

Mr. L. What do you do when it rains?

Boy. If it rains very hard, I get under the hedges till it is over.

Mr. L. What do you do when you are hungry before it is time to go home?

Boy. I sometimes eat a raw turnip.

Mr. L. But if there are none?

Boy. Then I do as well as I can; I work on, and never think of it.

Mr. L. Are you not dry sometimes this hot weather?

Boy. Yes, but there is water enough.

Mr. L. Why, my little fellow, you are quite a philosopher!

Boy. Sir?

Mr. L. I say you are a philosopher, but I am sure you do not know what that means.

Boy. No, sir, no harm, I hope.

Mr. L. No, no! (Laughing.) Well, my boy, you seem to want nothing at all, so I shall not give you money to make you want anything. But were you ever at school?

Boy. No, sir, but daddy says I shall go after harvest.

Mr. L. You will want books then.

Boy. Yes, the boys have all a spelling-book and a testament.

Mr. L. Well, then, I will give you them—tell your daddy so, and that it is because I think you a very good contented little boy. So now go to your sheep again.

Boy. I will, sir. Thank you.

Mr. L. Good-by, Peter.

Boy. Good-by, sir.