“Dear papa,” said the amiable child, “I am in no hurry, and I think, if you would agree to my proposal, we might do some good here.”
“Indeed!” said his father: “pray what is your plan?”
“Why, you know, papa, that I can ride a donkey as well as a poney, but these poor people cannot do without a lodging and food; now, papa, if you would spend the money on them instead of the poney, I should be very glad.”
“But are you quite sure, Henry,” said his father, “that you will not regret this surrender? You cannot go to see Mary on your donkey, and you might frequently go on your poney, besides riding out with me:—consider well before you decide.”
“I have considered so well, dear papa,” returned the child, “that I am sure, were I to wait a whole week, I should not change my mind; and I know Mary would advise me to do so too, even though she did not see me so often.”
“Well, then, my dear boy, I had intended giving ten pounds for your poney, you may, therefore, bestow that sum on the poor family.”
Henry was overjoyed at obtaining his father’s permission to relieve the unhappy sufferers, and begged his assistance and advice as to the manner of doing so. These the delighted father readily afforded, and so judicious were his arrangements, that, before night, Henry had the satisfaction of seeing the whole family settled in a snug little habitation, not far from his father’s house. His mamma kindly lent her assistance, sending provisions sufficient for their immediate wants, with some clothes for the poor woman and her children, all their own having been consumed in the flames.
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.”