dance or practise any particular diversion,
but, if they do, they ought to submit to the laws of it without
repining; and I have always observed among the little boys whom I am
acquainted with, that wherever this disposition prevails, it is the
greatest proof of a bad and contemptible temper." "I am afraid," replied
Miss Simmons, "that your observations will hold universally true, and
that those who expect so much for themselves, without being willing to
consider their fellow-creatures in turn, in whatever station they are
found, are always the most mean, ignorant, and despicable of the
species."

"I remember," said Harry, "reading a story of a great man called Sir
Philip Sydney. This gentleman was reckoned not only the bravest but the
politest person in all England. It happened that he was sent over the
sea to assist some of our allies against their enemies. After having
distinguished himself in such a manner as gained him the love and esteem
of all the army, this excellent man one day received a shot which broke
his thigh, as he was bravely fighting at the head of his men. Sir
Philip Sydney felt that he was mortally wounded, and was obliged to turn
his horse's head, and retire to his tent, in order to have his wound
examined. By the time that he had reached his tent, he not only felt
great agonies from his wound, but the heat of the weather, and the fever
which the pain produced, had excited an intolerable thirst, so that he
prayed his attendants to fetch him a little water. With infinite
difficulty some water was procured and brought to him, but, just as he
was raising the cup to his lips, he chanced to see a poor English
soldier, who had been mortally wounded in the same engagement, and lay
upon the ground faint and bleeding, and ready to expire. The poor man
was suffering, like his general, from the pain of a consuming thirst,
and therefore, though respect prevented him from asking for any, he
turned his dying eyes upon the water with an eagerness which
sufficiently explained his sufferings. Upon this the excellent and noble
gentleman took the cup, which he had not yet tasted, from his lips, and
gave it to his attendants, ordering them to carry it to the wounded
soldier, and only saying, 'this poor man wants it still more than I
do.'"

"This story," added Harry, "was always a particular favourite with Mr
Barlow, and he has often pointed it out to me as an example not only of
the greatest virtue and humanity, but