her breakfast, grandmother said she could not bear to take it."

William had no rejoinder to make, for self-reproach was busy at his
heart. But a little while ago he had thought himself "the most unhappy
being on the face of the earth," and now he could not help feeling
that the condition of poor little Ned was far more wretched than his
own. His food, indeed, was coarse and scanty enough; but then he had
his regular meals, while this poor child and his infirm grandmother
were obliged to subsist on the charity of the poor, which could not be
very regularly or liberally administered.

"I am surely very ungrateful to my heavenly Father," said he, half
aloud. "Hereafter, when I am disposed to complain of my food, I will
think of this poor boy. But stop; I had forgotten the rolls Mrs.
Burton gave me. I am not very hungry now;" and taking the packet from
his bosom pocket, he gave it to the little starveling.

"I am not to have them all?" said Ned, as he broke one off, and began
to eat it. "Do you not want some yourself?"

"No," replied William; "I will get some supper when I go home; so
carry half of them to your grandmother, for you are both hungry, and
have no supper to expect."

And now, although hungry himself, with what pleasure did he give his
rolls to one whose want was far greater than his own! He felt, in this
denying of self, how great was the luxury of doing good; for mercy--

"Droppeth as the gentle dew from heaven.
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed;