THE JOYS OF SELF-WILL.
"There is no joy in life, but in doing just what one pleases," said Conrad. "I don't think so," was the wise answer of his friend Albert. "We shall see," said Conrad. "Now, here is a bitter cold morning; so, as I do not like to be cold, I shall not stir out of the house, but have a fine roaring fire all day, and some clever witty book to amuse me." Saying this, Conrad slipt on a loose but warm dressing gown, poked up the fire, and hung his hat and stick upon the peg behind him. "No cold walking in the mire, no plague of dressing, for me! Here I am snug, and sure of being well and free from aches and ailments." Albert laughed to see him so selfish, and so foolish, and left him. Young Albert was active, and willing to serve and oblige; so, when he quitted his churlish friend, he walked to see his sick uncle, and to carry him some game he had killed very early in the morning. His uncle was much cheered by his visit and his chat; and whilst he was with him, he wrote some letters for him, and did many other odd jobs. They dined upon the game, and his uncle said, the pheasant Albert brought was the first meat he had tasted for a long while. After dinner, Albert, leaving his uncle better for his visit, went to his father's farm, to give some orders, and took home good accounts of all that was going on there. He then went into his own chamber, and had two hours of close reading, of a book his father wished him to study. By this time, tea was ready, and his mother and the little ones were always glad when Albert joined the tea table, he was so merry, and so handy, and so funny. When tea was over, he took a lesson upon the flute, and, with the help of his master, they had some good music. At nine at night, Albert jumped up and said, "I will just run down the street and peep at my happy friend, Conrad." When he reached his room, the door was locked; so he peeped in at the key hole, and there he saw the happy Conrad in a fit of rage and shame. His book had been dashed on the floor, and there it lay; a cup and a bottle, as of physic, stood on the table near him, and he was holding his head, as if it ached very much. The servants said Conrad had been cold all day for want of exercise, and he had been sick for want of air. "Poor fellow!" cried Albert. "So much for the joys of the selfish and the idle!"