George was a demure studious boy, and his senses seemed to brighten up in the library, where his brother was so gloomy.

He knew the books before he could well-nigh carry them, and read in them long before he could understand them.

Harry, on the other hand, was all alive in the stables or in the wood, eager for all parties of hunting and fishing, and promised to be a good sportsman from a very early age.

Their grandfather's ship was sailing for Europe once when the boys were children, and they were asked, what present Captain Franks should bring them back?
George was divided between books and a fiddle; Harry instantly declared for a little gun: and Madam Warrington (as she then was called) was hurt that her elder boy should have low tastes, and applauded the younger's choice as more worthy of his name and lineage.

"Books, papa, I can fancy to be a good choice," she replied to her father, who tried to convince her that George had a right to his opinion, "though I am sure you must have pretty nigh all the books in the world already.