We remember the story of the Spartan boy who allowed the fox to bite him beneath his frock without crying.

I think we may imagine that he refrained from tears in public, before some herd of school-fellows, or a bench of masters, or amid the sternness of parental authority; but that he told his sister afterward how he had been tortured, or his mother as he lay against her bosom, or perhaps his chosen chum.

Such reticences are made dignified by the occasion, when something has to be won by controlling the expression to which nature uncontrolled would give utterance, but are not in themselves evidence either of sagacity or of courage.

Roman fortitude was but a suit of armor to be worn on state occasions.

If we come across a warrior with his crested helmet and his sword and his spear, we see, no doubt, an impressive object.