were to be transported in a Ferry-boat, as fast as they
could. One of the Friends was now in the Boat, while the other was drawn
up with others by the Waterside waiting the Return of the Boat. A
Disorder happened in the Passage by an unruly Horse; and a Gentleman who
had the Rein of his Horse negligently under his Arm, was forced into the
Water by his Horse's Jumping over. The Friend on the Shore cry'd out,
Who's that is drowned trow? He was immediately answer'd, Your Friend,
_Harry Thompson_. He very gravely reply'd, _Ay, he had a mad Horse_.
This short Epitaph from such a Familiar, without more Words, gave me, at
that Time under Twenty, a very moderate Opinion of the Friendship of
Companions. Thus is Affection and every other Motive of Life in the
Generality rooted out by the present busie Scene about them: they lament
no Man whose Capacity can be supplied by another; and where Men converse
without Delicacy, the next Man you meet will serve as well as he whom
you have lived with half your Life. To such the Devastation of
Countries, the Misery of Inhabitants, the Cries of the Pillaged, and the
silent Sorrow of the great Unfortunate, are ordinary Objects; their
Minds are bent upon the little Gratifications of their own Senses and
Appetites, forgetful of Compassion, insensible of Glory, avoiding only
Shame; their whole Hearts taken up with the trivial Hope of meeting and
being merry. These are the People who make up the Gross of the Soldiery:
But the fine Gentleman in that Band of Men is such a One as I have now
in my Eye, who is foremost in all Danger to which he is ordered. His
Officers are his Friends and Companions, as they are Men of Honour and
Gentlemen; the private Men his Brethren, as they are of his Species. He
is beloved of all that behold him: They wish him in Danger as he views
their Ranks, that they may have Occasions to save him at their own
Hazard. Mutual Love is the Order of the Files where he commands; every
Man afraid for himself and his Neighbour, not lest their Commander
should punish them, but lest he should be offended. Such is his Regiment
who knows Mankind, and feels their Distresses so far as to prevent them.
Just in distributing what is their Due, he would think himself below
their Tailor to wear a Snip of their Cloaths in

Lace upon his own; and below the most rapacious Agent, should he enjoy
a Farthing above his own Pay. Go on, brave Man, immortal Glory is thy
Fortune, and immortal Happi