all the more precious; in
fact, in his estimation there was nothing to compare with it in the
world.

There was a great difference between poor Jacob's lot and that of Squire
Courtenay's son. James Courtenay had plenty of toys; he had also a pony,
and a servant to attend him whenever he rode out; when the summer came,
he used often to go out sailing with the squire in his yacht; and there
was scarce anything on which he set his heart which he was not able to
get.

With all these pleasures, James Courtenay was not, however, so happy a
youth as poor Jacob Dobbin. Jacob, though crippled, was contented--his
few pleasures were thoroughly enjoyed, and "a contented mind is a
continual feast;" whereas James was spoiled by the abundance of good
things at his command; he was like the full man that loatheth the
honeycomb; and he often caused no little trouble to his friends, and,
indeed, to himself also, by the evil tempers he displayed.

Many a time did James Courtenay's old nurse, who was a God-fearing
woman, point out to him that the world was not made for him alone; that
there were many others to be considered as well as himself; and that
although God had given him many things, still he was not of a bit more
importance in His sight than others who had not so much. All this the
young squire would never have listened to from any one else; but old
Aggie had reared him, and whenever he was laid by with any illness, or
was in any particular trouble, she was the one to whom he always fled.
"God sometimes teaches people very bitter lessons," said old Aggie one
day, when James Courtenay had been speaking contemptuously to one of the
servants; "and take care, Master James, lest you soon have to learn
one."

Jacob Dobbin had been for some time worse than usual, his cough was more
severe, and his poor leg more painful, when his father and he held a
long conversation by the side of their scanty fire.

Leonard had made the tea in the old black pot with the broken spout, and
Jacob lay on his little settle, close up to the table.

"Father," said Jacob, "I saw the young squire ride by on his gray pony
to-day, and just then my leg gave me a sore pinch, and I thought, How
strange it is that there should be such a difference between folk; he's
almost always galloping about, and I'm almost always in bed."

"Poor folk," answered Jacob's father, "are not always so badly off as
they suppose; little things make them happy, and little things