his horse, by which accident he bruised his side in such a manner that it threw him into a pleurisy, of which he died. Thus was I only to be cured of the sense of one misery by the birth of another: he had always been to me a most indulgent parent, and the horror I felt at the loss of him rendered me for some time inconsolable; nor do I think anything could have ever made me overcome my grief, but that my brother, now Marquis de Stainville, notwithstanding I am certain he felt the loss equal with me, had greatness of mind enough to enable him to stifle all his own sorrows in order to comfort and support me under mine; till at length I was ashamed to see so much goodness thrown away upon me, and I was resolved (at least in appearance) to shake off my melancholy, that I might no longer be a burden to such a brother. This consideration, and the agreeableness of his conversation, assisted me by degrees to calm my mind, and again brought me back into a state of tranquillity. He often used to entertain me with stories of what had happened to him at school, with his remarks (which were generally very judicious) on them. One evening, as we were talking of friendship, he related to me the following instance of a boy's unusual attachment to him, which I will give you in his own words.
"'When I was at school I contracted a warm friendship with the young Chevalier Dumont: indeed, it was impossible for me to avoid it, for the sympathy of our tempers was so very strong that nature seemed to have pointed us out as companions to each other. It is usual, amongst every number of boys, for each of them to single out some one or other with whom they more particularly converse than with the rest; but we not only loved one another better than all our other schoolfellows, but I verily believe, if we had had our choice throughout the whole world, we neither of us could
