The remembrance of those childish reproaches haunts me yet oftentimes in my dreams.

My school-days come again, and the horror I used to feel, when in some silent corner, retired from the notice of my unfeeling playfellows, I have sat to mumble the solitary slice of gingerbread allotted me by the bounty of considerate friends, and have ached at heart because I could not spare a portion of it, as I saw other boys do, to some favorite boy; for if I know my own heart, I was never selfish,--never possessed a luxury which I did not hasten to communicate to others; but my food, alas! was none; it was an indispensable necessary; I could as soon have spared the blood in my veins, as have parted that with my companions.
Well, no one stage of suffering lasts forever: we should grow reconciled to it at length, I suppose, if it did.

The miseries of my school-days had their end; I was once more restored to the paternal dwelling.

The affectionate solicitude of my parents was directed to the good-natured purpose of concealing, even from myself, the infirmity which haunted me.

I was continually told that I was growing, and the appetite I displayed was humanely represented as being nothing more than a symptom and an effect of that.