Frank had the manhood to despise your hisses, and value his own self-respect far above the applause of boys silly enough to make fighting the test of courage. Ralf. Cousin Laura, let me suppose a case: You are walking with Frank in a solitary place, when a ruffian comes up and tries to carry you off. Would you have a fighting boy, like Tom Harding, or a fellow like Frank, to stand by you in such a dilemma? Laura. I should have all the more confidence in Frank's readiness to do his best to protect me, because of his refusal to fight without a cause. The truly brave are always the least quarrelsome. They are not in the habit of defying others to knock chips off their hats. They reserve themselves for the right occasions. Ralf. Well, Cousin Laura, I have given you fair warning. So, if the fellows of our academy don't bow to you hereafter, you will know what it means. Good-morning. Laura. Good-morning! Perhaps time will show which of us has taken the correct view of the matter. Ralf. GOOD-MORNING once more, Cousin Laura! mean to speak to me again. But I thought you did not Ralf. O! the fire of last evening put my resolution all out of my head. Laura. A terrible fire it was! Were you present? Ralf. I and Tom Harding were with one of the firecompanies, and worked at the engine. Laura. Did you see that boy go up the ladder? Ralf. Yes; I would like to be in his shoes, for they say the Humane Society are going to give him a gold medal." Laura. I wish I had been there to see him! How did it happen? Ralf. Why, you see, the firemen thought they had cleared the house of all its inmates; but, all at once, a poor Irish woman began crying out that her sick baby was in bed in the corner room of the third story. "Too late! too late!" said the firemen. Laura. But why was it too late? Ralf. You shall hear. The only ladder that was long enough to reach up to that window was so burned and charred in the middle, that the men were all afraid to trust their weight to it. When the poor woman learned this she screamed so that you could hear her above all the noise of the engines. Laura. Poor woman! I do not wonder at it. did she not make the attempt herself? But why Ralf. She had been badly lamed by the fall of a beam, and could not climb. The chief fireman called out, "Is there no boy that will venture up? We men are all too heavy." Laura. I think I see you and Tom Harding starting in generous rivalry to try which will be first to go up the ladder! Ralf. No, you don't see any such thing. Tom and I perceived the danger too clearly. But, all at once, a little fellow, whose face was so black with smoke that nobody knew who he was, darted up the ladder, swift as a monkey. Such a silence as ensued !64 There was no more shouting. Everybody looked intently on the boy. "The ladder will break when he gets to the weak place," whispered one. "No," said another; "he has passed it safely." And so he had. On he went, and suddenly disappeared through the window. The next moment a burst of flame flashed on him, showing him at the top of the ladder, with the baby swung over his back, "Hush! hush!" said the firemen. Nobody spoke. Down came the boy steadily— down to the weak place, and then Laura. It did not break? Ralf. No, but it bent. He passed it, however, and then slid down the rest of the way, and placed the baby in the mother's arms. You should have heard her go on! You should have heard the shouts from the crowd! You should have seen the fellows press to get a sight of the boy! But he slipped away under their arms, and ran off. Laura. And does nobody know the name of the young hero? Ralf. Nobody that I have heard of. But here is a morning newspaper, which I have not yet opened. Let me unfold it. Here's the account. (Reads.) "Destructive fire last evening-house occupied by Irish families" That column is all about the fire. Here it tells of the Irish woman and the baby. Laura. How long you are in finding it! Give it to me. (Takes it and reads.) "The infant would, in all probability, have perished, had it not been for the courage of a lad, who, hearing the chief fireman's appeal, darted up the ladder, dashed through a window into a room where the infant was sleeping, bore it out in safety, descended the ladder, and gave the little creature into the arms of its lately despairing but now overjoyed mother." Ralf. Is the boy's name mentioned ? Laura. Ay! Here it is! Here it is! And who do you think he is? Ralf. Do not keep me in suspense ! Laura. Well, then, he's the boy who was so afraid ɔf knocking a chip off your hat Frank Sterling -- the coward, as you called him! Ralf. No! Let me see the paper for myself. There's the name, sure enough, printed in capital letters! Laura. But, cousin, how much more illustrious an achievement it would have been for him to have knocked that chip off! Then he would have stood in no danger of being "cut" by Mr. Tom Harding and Mr. Ralf Burton. Ralf. Don't laugh at me any more, Cousin Laura! I see I have been in the wrong. Frank Sterling is no coward. I'll ask his pardon. Laura. Will you? My dear cousin, you will in that case show that you, too, are not without courage. Osborne. CIV. ON REPEALING THE ACTS AGAINST THE AMERICAN COLONIES, IN 1775. 1. It is not repealing this or that act of Parliament," — it is not repealing a piece of parchment, that can restore America to our bosom. You must repeal her fears and her resentments; and you may then hope for her love and gratitude. But, now, insulted with an armed force posted at Boston, irritated with a hostile array before her eyes, her concessions, if you could force them, would be suspicious and insecure, the dictates of fear, and the extortions of force ! 2. But it is more than evident that you cannot force them, principled and united as they are, to your unworthy terms of submission. Repeal, therefore, my lords, I say! But bare repeal will not satisfy this enlightened and spirited people. You must go through the work. You must declare you have no right to tax. Then they may trust you. 3. There is no time to be lost. Every moment is big with dangers. While I am speaking, the decisive blow may be struck, and millions involved in the consequence. The very first drop of blood shed in civil and unnatural war will make a wound which years, perhaps ages, may not heal. 4. When your lordships look at the papers transmitted to us from America, when you consider their decency, firmness, and wisdom, you cannot but respect their cause, and wish to make it I must acclare and avow your own. that, in the master states of the world, I know not the people nor the senate, who, under such a complication of -- difficult circumstances, can stand in preference to the delegates of America, assembled in General Congress at Philadelphia. 5. For genuine sagacity, for singular moderation, for solid wisdom, manly spirit, sublime sentiments, and simplicity of language,- for everything respectable and honorable, they stand unrivalled. I trust it is obvious to your lordships that all attempts to impose servitude upon such men, to establish despotism over such a mighty continental nation, must be vain, must be fatal. 6. This wise people speak out. They do not hold the language of slaves. They tell you what they mean. They do not ask you to repeal your laws as a favor. They claim it as a right they demand it. They tell you they will not submit to them. And I tell you, the acts must be repealed. We shall be forced ultimately to retract.E us retract while we can, not when we must. Let 7. If ministers thus persevere in misadvising and misleading the king, I will not say that they can alienate the affections of his subjects from the crown, but I will affirm that they will make the crown not worth his wearing; I will not say that the king is betrayed, but I will pronounce that the kingdom is undone ! LORD CHATHAM. CV. THE LITTLE TEACHER. 1. WITH dark foreboding thoughts oppressed, 2. Deep in a lone and green retreat I laid me down with many a sigh, Allured my eye. 55 |