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?