A cruel battle was being fought. The ground was covered with dead and

dying men. The air was hot and stifling. The sun shone down without

pity on the wounded soldiers lying in the blood and dust.

One of these soldiers was a no-ble-man, whom everybody loved for his

gen-tle-ness and kindness. Yet now he was no better off than the

poorest man in the field. He had been wounded, and would die; and he

was suf-f
r-ing much with pain and thirst.

When the battle was over, his friends hurried to his aid. A soldier

came running with a cup in his hand.

"Here, Sir Philip," he said, "I have brought you some clear, cool

water from the brook. I will raise your head so that you can drink."

The cup was placed to Sir Philip's lips. How thank-ful-ly he looked at

the man who had brought it! Then his eyes met those of a dying soldier

who was lying on the ground close by. The wist-ful look in the poor

man's face spoke plainer than words.

"Give the water to that man," said Sir Philip quickly; and then,

pushing the cup toward him, he said, "Here, my comrade, take this. Thy

need is greater than mine."

What a brave, noble man he was! The name of Sir Philip Sidney will

never be for-got-ten; for it was the name of a Chris-tian gen-tle-man

who always had the good of others in his mind. Was it any wonder that

everybody wept when it was heard that he was dead?

It is said, that, on the day when he was carried to the grave, every

eye in the land was filled with tears. Rich and poor, high and low,

all felt that they had lost a friend; all mourned the death of the

kindest, gentlest man that they had ever known.