“Sister come! sister come!” he exclaimed over and over again, with the greatest glee; “sister stay with Lewie now.”

“Sister will stay a little while,” said Agnes, kissing over and over again her beautiful little brother.

“No, sister stay!—­sister shall not go!” said Lewie, in the best manner in which he could express it; but exactly how, we must be excused from making known to the reader, having a great horror of baby-talk in books.

“But I must go, darling; all my things are at uncle’s, and I want to get some books cousin Emily is going to give me; but I will come back very soon to stay with Lewie.”

“No! sister shall not go!” was still the cry; and Mrs. Elwyn settled the matter by saying: 

“Agnes, if Lewie wants you here so much, you may as well take off your things; you cannot return to Brook Farm; besides, I want you to amuse Lewie.”  Agnes thought of some of the consequences of her endeavors to amuse Lewie, and sighed.

“If your mother insists upon your remaining, Agnes,” said her uncle, “I will bring over your things, and Emily shall come with me, to bring the books, and tell you how to study.”

“Oh, thank you, dear uncle!” said Agnes, her face brightening at once.

In the first scene in which our little hero is introduced to the reader, he certainly does not appear to advantage, as few persons would in the first stages of a fever.  He was not always so hard to please, or so recklessly destructive, as he was that day; and had an intimation ever been conveyed to his mind, that it was a possible thing for any desire of his to remain ungratified, he might have grown up less supremely selfish than he did.

But the natural selfishness of his nature being constantly fed and ministered to by his doating mother, led the little fellow to understand very early that no wish of his was to be denied; and before he was two years old, he fully understood the power he held in his hands.

He was a beautiful boy; “as handsome as a picture,” as Mammy said; but, for my part, I have seldom seen a picture of a child that could at all compare with Lewie Elwyn, with his golden curls, and deep blue eyes, and brilliant color.  He was warm-hearted and affectionate, too, and might have been moulded by the hand of love into a glorious character.  But selfishness is a deformity which early attention and care may remedy, and the grace of God alone may completely subdue; but, if allowed to take its own course, or worse, if encouraged and nurtured, it grows with wonderful rapidity, and makes a horrid shape of what might be the fairest.

Upon this text, or something very like it, Mr. Wharton spake to Mrs. Elwyn, when Agnes had carried Lewie into the next room to spin his top for him.

“Lewie is a most beautiful little fellow, certainly,” said he; “but, Harriet, take care; he is getting the upper hand of you already.  It is time already—­indeed, it has long been time—­to make him understand that his will is to be subservient to those who are older.”