Class ^._ k._\IXk Book__^^_^\i^% COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. America s Great Men and Their Deeds American Heroes and Heroism By William A. Mowry, A.M., Ph.D. and Arthur May Mowry, A.M. Authors of ''First Steps in the History of our Country,'' ''A History of the United States, for Schools'' and ''American Inventions and Inventor s^ Silver, Burdett and Company New York Boston Chicago FOR THE STUDY OF HISTORY FIRST STEPS IN THE HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY. By William A. Mowry, Ph.D., and Arthur May Mowry, A.M. 334 pages. 219 illustrations and maps. Introductory price, 60 cents. A unique elementary history of the United States, which groups the im- portant events in the nation's progress about the life-stories of forty leaders from Columbus to McKinley. FIRST STEPS IN THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By Arthur May Mowry, A.M. 324 pages. 259 illustrations and maps. Introductory price, 70 cents. An English history on the biographical plan that is most popular and most efifective with young people; well rounded and extremely interesting; scholarly, accurate and thoroughly instructive; ideal on the illustrative side. A HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, for Schools. By William A. Mowry, Ph.D., and Arthur May Mowry, A.M. 468 pages. Numerous illustrations. Introductory price, $1.00. A valuable and workable book for upper grammar grades and high schools, strictly up-to-date, accurate in statement, clear and graphic in style, patriotic and unpartisan in spirit. AMERICAN INVENTIONS AND INVENTORS. By William A. Mowry, Ph.D., and Arthur May Mowry. A.M. 298 pages. Fully illustrated. Introductory price, 65 cents. A fascinating resume of American improvements in heat, light, clothing, food, travel and letters, that shows most clearly the contrast between life in colonial and in modern times, and gives a new interest to every-day matters. '' TKE LlB'rl/jRY.CtF^.'i , Two Copies Rtcoived WiAY 6 1903 •^ Copyright Emry CLA88 ^ XXo. No. r 2> cf 2> c^ C9PY B, Copyright, igoj. By Silver, Burdett and Company PREFACE. ''Interest" is the first word in modern psychology. The child will learn faster and better when he is 'interested," when his mind is thoroughly alive and intensely active. Moreover, when he is kept in pleasurable interest his development is more normal and healthy. Nowhere is this principle more applicable or the results more man- ifest than in the reading-classes. Give the children dry and uninterest- ing historical facts or didactic rules of no interest to them and quite foreign to their undeveloped natures, and you have given them a soporific potion which will prove effectual in retarding their advancement. On the other hand, give them reading-lessons which relate, in simple language, adventures, narrow escapes, thrilling incidents in history and travel, where bold and high-toned courage is manifested, and three distinct and important things will be accomplished : first, their thorough interest in the reading exercise will be secured; secondly, a healthy love for history will be cultivated ; and thirdly, a strong moral sentiment will be stimulated. Perhaps no set of reading- lessons will do more in all three of these directions than such entertaining incidents in history as show real bravery and high-principled heroism. One advantage from a book of this sort is found in the ethical lessons conveyed by the incidents related. It is in reality a practical book of morals. The best moral teaching is by example, and the stories here told impart so clearly lessons in kindness, in honesty, in true courage, in real benevolence, that the words haec fabula docet are in no way needed. Children always and everywhere respect heroism and love tlie hejo. But it is important to distinguish between brute bravery and real moral courage. The incidents of heroism given in this book are arranged in a progressive or ascending order. Stories of bravery under circumstances 6 ■ PREFACE. where one would naturally look for nothing but bravery — for example, in the life of the soldier or sailor — are given first. Then gradually ris- ing in the moral scale, the latter part of the book furnishes examples of heroes of the nobler type, with a higher moral tone, who display dignity of character, true moral force, and stately devotion to principle. The three advantages mentioned above may confidently be expected to result from the use of this book as a supplementary reader in school. CONTENTS. CHAPTER Introductory and Explanatory I. John Champe II. Nathan Hale . III. Emily Geiger's Ride . IV. Buried in the Ash-heap V. Washington at Valley Forge VI. Richard Kirkland VII. Jerry O'Brien . VIII. Commodore Paul Jones IX. Jesse D. Elliott X. Lieutenant William B. Gushing XI. Richmond Pearson Hobson XII. Ensign Gherardi XIII. The Life-saving Service XIV. Keeper Chase XV. Brave Jack Eagan XVI. Sergeant Vaughan XVII. An Heroic Policeman XVIII. Runaway Locomotives XIX. John Coulter XX. Daniel Boone XXI. Andrew Ellicott XXII. Elisha Kent Kane XXIII. Two Brass Kettles . II 17 24 29 35 40 48 52 57 66 72 78 84 86 90 94 98 104 107 III 117 125 132 139 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXIV. Lucy Goodell Blake XXV. Paul L. Fischer XXVI. Billy Mahew XXVII. George E. Waring, Jr XXVIII. The Siege of Pekin XXIX. Titus Coan, the Missionary to Hawaii XXX. Father Eells and Whitman College XXXI. Dorothea Dix XXXII. Clara Barton XXXIII. Bishop Christopher Sower XXXIV. Henry Laurens in the Tower of London XXXV. Farmer Stedman .... XXXVI. John Quincy Adams and the Gag Law XXXVII. Francis Parkman .... 142 147 151 154 160 168 176 181 189 196 203 210 214 219 ILLUSTRATIONS EUicott Attacked by Seminole Indians Frontispiece PAGE Sergeant Champe's Escape 20 King's Arms Tavern : General Arnold's Headquarters in New York . 22 Hale Giving the Signal 26 Nathan Hale 27 General Nathaniel Greene 3^ Mrs. Steele and General Greene 33 " ' Give up That Rebel, Joe Butler,' Said the Captain " . . . .38 Washington and Lafayette at Valley Forge 42 Washington's Headquarters at Valley Forge 45 " He Knelt by the Nearest Sufferer" 49 " A Broadside Was Fired " 55 Paul Jones ............ 5^ T\\G. Bon Hom?ne Richard 2in(\ ihe Ser apis 62 Commodore Perry at the Battle of Lake Erie 67 Jesse D. Elliott .70 " He Draws the Cord in His Right Hand " . . . . . .74 Richmond Pearson Hobson 79 The Merrimac Entering Santiago Harbor 81 Ensign W. R. Gherardi 84 " The Boat Drew up Alongside the Wreck" 88 Nantucket Light 90 Captain Eagan 95 Sergeant Vaughan 99 Vaughan's Gold Medal 103 Albert N. Bates 105 "When the Locomotive Approached Him He Leaped upon It " . . 108 " A Party of Indians Made Their Appearance " 113 Daniel Boone 118 The Defense of Boonesboro 120 lO ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Andrew Ellicott . . ., 126 Map of Ellicott's Route 128 " Ellicott Spied a Vessel in the Distance " . . . . . .129 Elisha Kent Kane 133 The Advance 136 "The Enemy Was Just Raising the Window-Sash " . . . . 140 "Mrs. Blake and the Baby Proceeded on Horseback" .... 143 " Down Through the Smoke the Elevator Rushes" 148 " He Placed His Own Body against the Stones " 152 Colonel George E. Waring, Jr. 155 The Fortification Staff 162 Ladies of the Legation Making Sand-bags 163 The International Gun . 165 Titus Coan 169 Ancient Hawaiian Idols 171 Lava Flow i73 Father Eells . . .177 Whitman Memorial Building 179 A Visit to a Prison 184 Clara Barton 190 A Red Cross Nurse on the Battlefield .194 Bishop Sower Giving Bread to the Poor 198 The Second Arrest of Bishop Sower • . . . . . . 200 Henry Laurens 204 The Tower of London . 206 "The Farmer Grasped' My Hand" 212 John Ouincy Adams 215 Francis Parkman . 220 INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY. Before beginning the regular chapters of the book it is recommended that the class read and discuss the following imaginary exercise in order to fix in every mind the real significance of the words " hero " and " heroism." " To-day we begin a new reading-book. Charles, what is the title of the book?" " * American Heroes and Heroism.' " ** What is meant by the word ' hero ' ? " *'« I think it means a brave man." " Well, then, why isn't the book called ' American Braves ' ? Might it not have been named ' American Braves and Bravery ' ? " '* We do not use the word 'braves' exactly in that sense. The Indians call their warriors ' braves.' " " Yes, that is true ; but can you tell me what the difference is between * brave ' and ' heroic ' ? " *' I do not believe I can tell you what the difference is." ** Give me a definition of bravery." " I think it is courage displayed in daring acts." *' Very good. That is a good definition. Bravery is courage dis- played in daring acts. Now what is valor? James, will you answer that question?" *' I should think that it is about the same thing as bravery." ** Where would you expect to find valor? " ** I suppose that we usually tise the word when we talk about soldiers and battles." " Yes. You would say, ' He displayed great valor in the charge.' Will some one give us a definition of fortitude? " Sarah raised her hand. " The dictionary says that * Fortitude is 12 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. passive courage, the habit of bearing up nobly under trials, dangers, and sufferings.' " *' Is the word ' courage ' used only in talking of soldiers and battles? " " I think not, sir," said Thomas. " I think you could use the word 'courage' for anybody who did not show fear in danger." ** That is right. Courage has a broad meaning. Courage may be shown by a soldier in battle, by the fireman when he is in great personal danger, by the sailor, and by any one who in the midst of danger is re- gardless of his own safety. Now let us return to the words ' hero ' and * heroism.' Have they a narrow or a broad meaning? " " I should think, sir," answered Louis, '* that those are about the broadest words there are." ** Mary, will you look in Webster's International Dictionary under the word ' heroism ' and tell us what is said? " Mary read: '*' Heroism; the qualities characteristic of a hero, as courage, bravery, fortitude, unselfishness, etc. : the display of such qual- ities.' Then Webster quotes from Hare : * Heroism is the self-devotion of genius manifesting itself in action.' Synonyms : Heroism; courage; fortitude ; bravery ; valor ; intrepidity ; gallantry. Courage is generic, de- noting fearlessness or defiance of danger ; fortitude is passive courage, the habit of bearing up nobly under trials, dangers, and sufferings; bravery is courage displayed in daring acts ; valor is courage in battle with living opponents ; intrepidity is firm courage which shrinks not amid the most appalling dangers; gallantry is adventurous courage dashing into the thickest of the fight. Heroism may call into exercise all these modifica- tions of courage. It is a contempt of danger, not from ignorance or inconsiderate levity, but from a noble devotion to some great cause, and a just confidence of being able to meet danger in the spirit of such a cause.' " ** These distinctions may seem a little difficult to you just now," said the teacher, ** but before you get through with this book I hope the definition will be better understood. Now, David, would you say that all heroism was of the same character, or do you think that there are different degrees of heroism? " " I don't see how a man can be more than heroic," David replied. INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY. 13 *' Then you think that a soldier on the field of battle displays as high a degree of heroism as one who sacrifices himself and his life for the good of others when his duty and his business do not require that sacrifice? " '' Why, no, sir. I should say that there must be different degrees of heroism, but I never thought about it in that way before." " David, I should like to have you read this newspaper clipping, and then Katherine and James will please follow with these others." David stood and read : " THE HEROIC ENGINEER. *' Special dispatch. " Oskaloosa, la., Sept. 26, 1899. " Four men were killed and a number seriously wounded in a head- on collision on the Northwestern Railroad seven miles east of this city, at 11.30 o'clock this morning. " Passenger train 10 1 was given orders to pass freight train 106 at Gainford Siding, southwest of the station at Tioga. The passenger train was running at full speed, down grade, when the engineer saw the ap- proaching freight, which was running on time orders to pass the passenger train at Tioga. The train was running about fifty miles an hour. " As soon as the fireman and the engineer discovered the train ahead of them, the fireman, whose name was Gulp, yelled to the engineer, Allen, and asked him if he was going to jump. In an instant all the circumstances of the case flashed through the engineer's mind. If he jumped it would be hazardous, but he might save his own life. This, however, would leave the train at full speed to collide with the freight; then many lives would be lost. On the other hand, if he stuck to his post he might slow the train down and thereby save many, but it would be sure death for him. He answered at once, ' Jump? No, never. I'll stay by her if I die for it.' He reversed his engine, put on the brakes hard, and brought the train almost to a stop when the crash came. Allen was taken from the wreck dead, but his heroism had undoubtedly saved the lives of many of the passengers on his train." 14 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. Katharine read as follows : " A HEROINE IN HUMBLE LIFE. *' Remarkable fortitude in suffering as well as an unusual degree of consideration for the welfare of others marked the conduct of Mrs. Julia Bender, who came near burning to death in her apartment in New York one night a few weeks ago. Mrs. Bender was alone at the time, and was engaged in making a birthday cake as a surprise for her little girl. On the cake she placed the appropriate number of candles. One of these she lighted to see how it would look. An unlucky jolt sent the candle against her dress, and in an instant she was ablaze from head to foot, but she did not scream. She tore her clothing off and then fainted. A tenant in a neighboring apartment heard the suffering woman groan, and went to her assistance. When asked why she had not shouted for help, Mrs. Bender said : ' I wanted to, but like a flash I thought of the sick woman across the hall. She is dying, and we have all been told to be very still. I remembered all that when I was on fire. I was suffering so that I knew if I opened my mouth at all I would shriek, so I gritted my teeth and tried to put the fire out myself.' " Then James read : '' REAL HEROES. '^ In an inconspicuous building in Cuba a group of patient physicians and a number of humble men and women, some Spanish, some American, have been writing a page of history. They are trying to discover the means by which yellow fever is transmitted, and they are voluntarily putting their lives at stake ' in the cause of humanity and the interest of science,' to test the various theories which have scientific support. *' One group lived for three weeks in a building purposely made as unsanitary as possible. Sunlight and fresh air were excluded. Each day the inmates wore clothes taken from the bodies of those who had died of the fever — clothes still foul with indescribable filth. Each night they slept in the beds and wrapped themselves in the bedclothes of yellow-fever victims. They were, however, protected from the bites of mosquitoes. INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY. 1 5 '^ Another group lived in wholesome conditions, but exposed to the bites of mosquitoes which had previously fed upon sufferers from the fever, and still others submitted to the injection of blood from those who were already afflicted with the disease. '' Of these true martyrs in the cause of humanity, a large number endured the torments of the fever. Their names have not been heralded abroad. Even the physicians who made the experiments were accus- tomed to speak of them as ' Case Number One,' ' Case Number Two,' and so on. They gave themselves to the work with no thought of honor and no desire of reward. But day after day and night after night they endured with quiet courage the suspense which is often worse than cer- tainty, and when they were stricken suffered without complaint. Three of them have died. "The names of these heroes deserve to be known and honored. Their deed was truly a glorious one, and it has accomplished its purpose, for their self-sacrifice has established a basis of scientific knowledge which, there is every reason to hope, will be the means of saving thou- sands of lives in years to come." " We will not have time to discuss the bravery of these heroes to- day," said the teacher, " but to-morrow I want you to tell me which one of them showed the highest type of heroism and be able to give the reasons. t( ( To be a hero does not mean To march away At sounding of the trumpet call To war's array; It does not mean a lifeless form 'Neath foeman's dart. To be a hero simply means To do your part. Perhaps above your head no flag May be unfurled ; i6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM, Perhaps you may not gain the cheers Of a great world ; Just do your part each little day, Be brave and true ; A greater than a soldier's joy Will come to you ! ' " AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. I. JOHN CHAMPE. Early in the autumn of 1780, Benedict Arnold, then in command of West Point, turned traitor to the American cause. His treason was discovered by the arrest of Major Andr^ at Tarrytown, but Arnold escaped and found refuge with the British in New York. Major Andr^ was a noble officer of high character, and when he was arrested and put on trial as a spy his dignified bearing and fearless honesty won for him much sympa- thy from the American people, especially from the American army. As Arnold was the real culprit, Washington wished to capture him and save the life of Andre. Major Henry Lee, better known as " Light Horse Harry," father of General Robert E. Lee, was in command of a cavalry legion, at this time encamped nearTappan on the Hudson. Wash- ington, who had great confidence in Major Lee, sent for him. After showing him some papers which he had received, Wash- ington told Lee that he had summoned him in the hope that he could name some person in his command capable and willing to undertake a delicate and dangerous enterprise. *' Whoever comes forward upon this occasion," said Washington, " will lay me under great obligations personally, and in behalf of the United States I will reward him amply. No time is to be lost. He 1 8 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. must proceed, if possible, this night. My object is to probe to the bottom what is contained in the papers you have just read, to seize Arnold, and, by getting him, to save Andre." He asked Lee if he could name to him the right person for such an undertaking. Lee answered that the sergeant-major of his cavalry was in all respects qualified for this adventure. In reply to further questions, Lee told Washington that the ser- geant's name was John Champe, that he was a native of Loudoun County, Virginia, was twenty-three or four years old, had been in the service four years, was full of bone and muscle, was grave, thoughtful, quiet, courageous, and persevering. Washington exclaimed, " He is the very man for this business. He must undertake it. Let him remember that going to the enemy by the direction and at the request of his superior officers is not desertion, although it might appear to be so." Major Lee returned to the camp, which he reached about eight o'clock at night. He sent for Champe immediately and unfolded to him the entire scheme. Champe listened with deep and excited attention. He modestly replied that he had great affection for the commander-in-chief, that he would willingly lay down his life for him, and that he was sensible of the honor conferred upon him by this request. He said that the plan had great charm for him, that even its partial success would lead to great good, and that he should not hesitate on account of any danger or difficulty, but he could not bear to desert and enlist with the enemy. It seemed to him almost like dishonor, there- fore he prayed to be excused. Lee admitted the force of his objection, but insisted that he was only carrying out the wishes of the commander-in-chief, and that could not be considered desertion. Lee with great skill brought forward many arguments to induce Sergeant Champe to undertake the perilous task, and finally he consented. But he especially requested that, whatever happened to him, his JOHN CHAMPE. I9 reputation should be protected by Major Lee and General Washington. It was now nearly eleven o'clock. The sergeant returned to camp, took his cloak, valise, and orderly-book, drew his horse from the picket, mounted, and rode out of camp unobserved. The plan was that he should as rapidly as possible ride down to Paulus Hook (now Jersey City), cross the river to New York, and report himself at Clinton's headquarters as a deserter from the American army, enlist in the legion which Arnold was then forming, and devise a plan for the capture of the traitor. Within half an hour of his starting Captain Carnes, the ofificer of the day, reported to Major Lee that one of the dragoons had de- serted. Lee complained of fatigue, but the captain was persist- ent. Lee said he had not a single man in his whole legion who would desert. This did not convince Carnes, and he withdrew to discover who it was that was missing. He soon found that the deserter was the sergeant-major, and that he had gone off with his horse, baggage, arms, and orderly-book. Lee directed, of course, that a party be organized and start in pursuit, but he delayed as much as was possible without arousing suspicion, so as to give Champe all the time he could. Meanwhile Champe, knowing that his absence would soon be discovered and he would be followed, was pushing on with all speed. The pursuing party, under command of Cornet Mid- dleton, also rode as rapidly as possible, and a light shower aided them in keeping the horse's track. Thus the race continued all night. Early the next morning as Middleton came to the top of a hill, a little way north of the village of Bergen, he saw Champe about half a mile farther on ; but the sergeant had vig- ilance like an Indian, and he discovered the pursuing party at the same time. Middleton's men put their horses to the top of their speed, and dividing their force, took two different roads to cut Champe off at the bridge beyond. 20 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. Champe wisely resolved to abandon his plan of going to Paulus Hook, and determined to strike for the river and ask pro- tection from two British galleys that he knew were lying a few miles west of Bergen. The chase was now hot. The pursuers reached the bridge, but Champe did not come. He had slipped through their fingers. Then Middleton's party started out in every direction, and some of the dragoons struck the trail of Champe's horse just as he reached the road leading to Bergen SERGEANT CHAMPE S ESCAPE. Point. Champe had prepared himself for the last effort ; the valise containing his clothes and orderly-book he had lashed to his shoulders, and he had thrown away the scabbard of his sword. Middleton was now within two or three hundred yards; but Champe, being just abreast of the galleys, threw himself off his horse, ran through the marsh to the river, plunged in and called for help. This was readily given. The British sent a boat to pick up Champe, who was carried on board the galley and later conveyed to Kew York with a report from the captain. JOHN CHAMPE. 21 Middleton was sadly disappointed. H-e recovered the horse with his equipments, the cloak and the scabbard, but the ser- geant himself he could not take back to camp. About three o'clock in the afternoon Middleton and his men arrived in camp with the well-known horse, but without a rider. One can hardly imagine the anguish of Major Lee's heart when he saw the ser- geant's horse led riderless into camp. He reproached himself with the blood of his faithful sergeant, and was much relieved when he heard that Champe had not been killed but had escaped to the British. Lee's joy was now as great as his fear had been a moment before, but he could not show it. As soon as possible he informed Washington of what had happened, and then awaited news from Champe. When Champe reached New York Sir Henry Clinton, com- mander-in-chief of the British forces, questioned him sharply, inquired concerning Washington and his army, and interrogated him about Andre and his probable fate. Champe told him that much disaffection existed in the American army, and that if this spirit could be encouraged by the British, many desertions would surely take place. Clinton then advised him to join Arnold's legion and sent him with a letter to Arnold. Champe stood the trial bravely; won the confidence of both Clinton and Arnold; received the same rank which he had held with Major Lee, and was able every few days to communicate with Lee. Champe was quartered in the same house with Arnold. He soon observed that it was Arnold's custom every night about twelve o'clock, before retiring, to walk in the garden. Champe fixed upon a night when, with one assistant, he could silently take off two or three palings from the garden fence which he had previously loosened, step through, place a gag in Arnold's mouth, throw a cloak over him, and without delay and without noise hurry him away. Champe's plan was that, having once secured Arnold's person, he and his friend should place thernselves each 22 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. under one shoulder of the prisoner and thus carry him through the most unfrequented alleys and streets to a boat on the Hud- son. If any person should meet them and make inquiries they would represent Arnold as a drunken soldier whom they were taking to the guard-house. When their prisoner was once in the boat, there would be no danger and no trouble in passing to the Jersey shore. There Lee, with a party of dragoons and KING S ARMS TAVERN. General Arnold's Headquarters in New York. extra horses, would meet them and rapidly convey Arnold to Washington's headquarters. The plan was a good one, and promised success. The ap- pointed night arrived. Lee and his dragoons with three extra horses left camp and about midnight reached Hoboken. They remained concealed in the woods waiting for the arrival of Champe and his prisoner; but hour after hour passed and no boat appeared. Morning came and the major and his soldiers quietly returned to camp. The delay could not be accounted for. For some unknown reason the plan had failed. Several days passed before anything was heard from Champe. Then Lee received an anonymous letter stating that just previous to the JOHN CHAMPE. " 23 night fixed upon for the capture Arnold had removed his head- quarters to another part of the town where he could better carry on his plans for embarking the troops under his command for a voyage to Virginia. Thus it happened that John Champe, instead of carrying the traitor Arnold that night across the Hudson, back to the American camp to be hanged, was safely deposited on board one of the British transports, and when he next set foot on shore it was in his native state, Virginia. Some months elapsed before he could find an opportunity to desert from the British army and again join Major Lee. When his chance came, he traveled west a long distance in Virginia, passed over into North Carolina, and finally joined Lee near the Congaree River. It was a surprise to Lee's soldiers when Champe, the infamous deserter as they supposed, appeared among them ; and greater was their surprise when they saw the cordial reception with which Lee embraced him. But it did not take long to make his whole story known to the corps, and their hatred of the supposed deserter was soon changed to respect and high admiration for his daring. Champe soon received discharge papers from General Wash- ington. This course seemed to be necessary because, if by any means during the progress of the war Champe should fall into the hands of the British, he would surely die upon a gibbet. It is interesting to know that years afterward when General Washington was called by President Adams to the command of our army, — a war with France being expected, — Washington sent to Colonel Lee and inquired for Champe, being determined to bring him into the field at the head of a company of infantry. Lee learned, however, that the gallant soldier, soon after his discharge from the army, had removed to Kentucky and had there died. II. NATHAN HALE. Heroism in the time of the American Revolution, as always, was not confined to the leading men of the time, like Washing- ton, Patrick Henry, Dr. Franklin and Samuel Adams, but brave acts and heroic deeds were done everywhere — among the sol- diers in the army, the women in their homes, and even the children at their play. The story is told that at the very begin- ning of the Revolution, when General Gage was in command of the troops at Boston, the boys of this city were in the habit of making little hills of snow and sliding down from them to the pond on the Common. The English soldiers destroyed these sliding-places, but the boys in the morning built new ones and then went to school. Returning to their play after school they found their snow hills beaten down again. Since the officers would not listen to their complaints, they finally sent a commit- tee from their own number to General Gage. " We come, sir, to demand satisfaction." " What," said the general, " have your fathers been teaching you rebellion and sent you to exhibit it here? " " Nobody sent us, sir," answered one of the boys, his eyes flashing. " We have never injured or insulted your soldiers, but they have trodden down our snow hills and broken the ice on our skating ground. We complained, and they called us young rebels and told us to help ourselves if we could. We told the captain of this, and he laughed at us. Yesterday our snow hills were destroyed for the third time, and we will bear it no longer." NATHAN HALE. 2$ General Gage looked at the boys in silent adnniration, and then said to an officer at his side: " The very children here draw in a love of liberty with the air they breathe." Turning to the boys he replied, " You may go, my brave boys, and be assured that if my troops trouble you again they shall be punished." If the boys dared so much to save their play forts, it is not surprising that the men in the army would endure any hardship or undertake any enterprise to preserve their liberties or serve their commanders. Among the many in the American army who gladly sacri- ficed themselves for their native land was a young Connecti- cut officer, Nathan Hale. As a child he was so feeble that his family and friends did not suppose he would live to grow up, but he had developed into a youth almost six feet in height, with a broad chest and strong, firm muscles. At an early age he became interested in outdoor sports, and was famed for his athletic feats. Later he became very fond of books, fitted for college, and was graduated at Yale in 1773, when he was only eighteen years of age. " He was the idol of all his acquaintances" and " everybody loved him," said an old lady many years after his death; ''he was so sprightly, intelligent, and kind, and so handsome." Immediately after the battle of Lexington Nathan Hale en- listed in the Continental Army, was made a lieutenant, and soon afterward was promoted to a captaincy. Money was scarce, and it seemed to many as though the colonists had entered upon an undertaking which would end in disaster and failure. It was a time of great discouragement. Men hesitated to enter the army for any long period, and many of those already enlisted refused to reenlist when their term of service was over. Hale was so anxious to keep together his company that he offered to 26 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. divide his wages among the soldiers " if they would tarry another month." Early in September, 1776, with a few picked men, Hale cap- tured at midnight a British supply vessel that was anchored in the East River, New York, under the protection of the guns of a British man-of-war. The stores of provisions from the prize were distributed among the hungry American soldiers. Soon after this Washington greatly desired to know the strength of the British army in New York and on Long Island, their position, and how best to attack them. Hale at once offered his services to act as spy and procure the needed in- formation. He well knew the consequences should he be captured; that a spy, if caught, would be immediately hanged — a death which every soldier considered the most dis- graceful. His friends urged him not to expose his life to the dangers of the undertaking just when he was entering upon a promising career. Hale replied that his only desire was to be useful to his country and the army, and that the duties of a spy were not dishonorable when they were necessary. " Every kind of service necessary to the public good," he said, " becomes honorable by being necessary." He felt that it was his duty to go, and no urging of his friends could turn him from his purpose. Disguised as a loyalist schoolmaster, he succeeded in visiting all the British camps, where he made observations, drawings, and HALE GIVING THE SIGNAL. NATHAN HALE. 27 memoranda of their fortifications. Finally he had gained the information which he desired and was about to return to the American side, when he was recognized by a relative who was a royalist and a refugee, and was betrayed. It had been arranged that a boat should meet Captain Hale at Huntington Bay. While he waited on the shore a boat approached and he, sup- posing it was the expected craft, gave the signal, only to find that it came from a British ship at anchor in the harbor. His surrender was de- manded and, escape being impossible, he was captured, taken before the commander. Sir William Howe, and subjected to a rough and rigid examination. In his shoes were found such evidences that he was a spy that Sir William, without the formality of a trial, ordered him to be hanged the next morning. His treatment by his captors was not creditable to the British army or. to the general in command. The night before his execution Nathan Hale wrote letters to his betrothed, his sisters, and his mother. These were destroyed before his eyes by the Provost-Marshal, Captain William Cunningham, because, as he afterward said, he did not wish " the rebels to know that they had a man that could die with such firmness." During his last hours he asked for a Bible, but was refused. He requested the attendance of a chaplain, and that was denied him. Before sun- rise the stanch patriot died for his country. Not a friend was present to give him courage; not a British soldier gave him a sympathetic look; but Nathan Hale needed neither friends nor sympathy. He considered that even death was a privilege when av:- .y'/^^.^-C^'t^. 28 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. it came as a reward for duty bravely done. As he ascended the cart which was his scaffold, he said : " You are shedding the blood of the innocent; if I had ten thousand lives I would lay them down in defense of my injured, bleeding country. I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country." '' This is a fine death for a soldier! " said a British officer, sneeringly. " Sir," replied Hale, lifting his cap, *' there is no death which would not be rendered noble in such a glorious cause." " Then he calmly replaced his cap and the fatal cart moved on." Thus died one of the brilliant young patriots of that day. His bravery, his courage, his patriotism make him immortal in the annals of his country. III. EMILY GEIGER'S RIDE. For nearly three years during the Revolution, South Caro- lina was overrun by the British troops, and the people were subjected to great hardships and unusual indignities. Some were forced to promise not to take up arms; others were compelled to serve against their country. The British took possession of their houses and lived in luxury, while the Carolinians sought refuge in the swamp and had for food what could be obtained from forest and stream and occasional foraging expe- ditions. Yet, notwithstanding all these discouraging conditions, most of the people in the South remained true to the colonies and were willing to suffer any indignity or loss if thereby the British could the sooner be driven from the country. An interesting story is told by Dr. Ramsey of Colonel Tarle- ton's capture of a South Carolina patriot named James Brad- ley. Tarleton was notorious for his cruelty and cunning, and probably no officer in the British army was more hated than he. One day he came to Bradley's house and passed himself off as Colonel Washington of the American army. " Bradley made much of his guest, and without suspicion freely commu- nicated to him the plans and views of himself and other Caro- linians for cooperating with their countrymen against the British. When the interview and the hospitalities were ended, Tarle- ton requested Bradley to accompany him as a guide to a neigh- boring place. This service was cheerfully performed. On their arrival Tarleton's party appeared in full view and took charge of Bradley as a prisoner. 30 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. " The host thus taken by order of his late guest was sent to Camden jail, and there confined in irons. He was frequently carted to the gallows to witness the execution of his countrymen as rebels, and was told to prepare for a similar fate, as his time was next. On such occasions, and when interrogated at courts- martial, he made no other reply than this: * I am ready and willing to die in the cause of my country; but remember, if I am hanged, I have many friends in General Marion's brigade, and my death will occasion a severe retaliation.* Either awed by his virtues or apprehensive of the consequences, his captors did not execute their threats. His life was spared, but he was kept in irons as long as the British had possession of the upper country. He bore the marks of these rugged instruments of confinement to the day of his death, and would occasionally show them to his young friends with a request that, if the good of their coun- try required the sacrifice, they would suffer imprisonment and death in its cause." Although the British received many hard blows from the army in the South, it was not until General Nathaniel Greene took command of the Southern troops that the enemy were forced to retire from their strong posts. One of these forts, Fort Mott, had been built around a large, new mansion owned by Mrs. Mott. She could not stay in her own house, and at the time of the attack by the American army she was living in a small cottage outside the walls. Colonel Lee, the ofificer in command, told her that the British garrison could be made to surrender if she would allow her fine house to be set on fire. Without hesitation she not only consented but supplied him with the means — an Indian bow and arrows. With these, burningsub- stances were shot over the house, which was soon in flames. Mrs. Mott was greatly pleased with the success of their experiment. It did not seem to occur to her that she had thus lost her prop- erty; she was simply glad to perform any service for her country. IV. BURIED IN THE ASH-HEAP. A Story of a Woman's Courage and Quick Wit. What queer things we find in history ! How often we are reminded that truth is stranger than fiction! The following singular incident, a full account of which was published many years ago, has been vouched for as being in all respects a true story of the American Revolution. The scene was laid in the little town of North Castle, Westchester County, New York. Just as the war broke out a young couple by the name of Fisher were married and established themselves in a new house, a real log cabin, in that wild and rugged country. But they were not long permitted to enjoy the comforts of their new home. Almost at the first note of war Fisher enlisted in the Continental Army, and he soon became one of the most trusted of Washington's scouts in that region which was called the neu- tral ground. Then came the battle of White Plains, near their home, and the young wife busied herself at Washington's camp caring for the sick and wounded soldiers. It was not long before bands of Hessians and Tories were constantly scouting over Westchester County, burning and pillaging, taking from the peaceful inhabitants whatever they could lay hands upon, and the neutral ground became almost like a battlefield itself. Fisher would manage occasionally to make a short visit to his wife, but soon this became a hazardous undertaking. At one time he was followed by British troops who were putting forth every effort to capture the bold scout. He had scarcely entered his house when they approached. This was just the time for 36 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. boldness and quick wit on the part of his wife, who hastily re- moved the rough boards of the kitchen floor and concealed her husband beneath them. The soldiers surrounded the house, and the captain came up to the front door to demand his surrender. They had seen Fisher enter the house, and now felt sure of their prey. The young wife, trembling within, put on a bold face and offered to help them search the house. They lost no time in ransacking every nook and corner, but they did not find the scout. Some time after this he was really captured in his own house by a band of Tories, who demanded of him the gold which they supposed to be concealed somewhere about the place. After he had refused again and again to tell them anything, they put a rope about his neck, threw the halter over the limb of a tree in the yard, pulled up the rope until his feet cleared the ground, and leaving him hanging there, mounted their horses and rode away. All this was done before the eyes of his terrified wife. She immediately cut down the body, not having a doubt that he was dead. But what was her joy to discover a faint flut- tering of the heart ! By careful nursing he was soon restored, and from that day onward he was more than ever determined to rid his country of the lawless bands of Hessians and Tories. But here is the story of the ash-heap. Mrs. Fisher was ex- pecting a brief visit from her husband. These visits had become more and more dangerous, until the devoted wife dreaded to have him come home. Again and again she had left her work to look up and down the road for his approach, but he did not appear. It was nearly sunset, and soon darkness would cover all. She tried to make herself believe that he had given up coming, but still she kept up her watch. The sun had gone down when, once more leaving her work, she stepped out through the yard to the road to satisfy herself that no one was in sight. Down the road, just emerging from the woods, she saw a man running BURIED IN THE ASH-HEAP. 37 swiftly toward her, but it was not her husband. He came with the greatest haste, and occasionally looked back, evidently expect- ing to be followed. Once he stumbled and fell, but quickly recovered himself and dashed onward at full speed. She soon discovered that it was one of her neighbors, a Mr. Butler, a stanch Whig and patriot. He was now straining every nerve, and as he rushed into the house he cried out to her, ' * Save me ! save me ! " " What is it? What is it? " asked the excited woman. " The Tories, the Tories!" replied Mr. Butler. " They are after me. They are close behind me. Hide me quick, Mrs. Fisher! " Hastily stepping to the door she saw, just emerging from the woods, a company of men who rapidly approached the house. " Hide me, hide me!" said Mr. Butler. " Hide me some- where, anywhere; don't let them get me." What could she do? Glancing through the kitchen and out at the open door she saw the hens fluttering in the ash-heap. Quick as thought her purpose was formed. She seized a brush made of goose-quills which was lying upon the table. As rap- idly as possible she cut out several quills, cut away the feathered part, blew out the pith, and joined four of these together so as to form a tube about eight inches long. She worked with great rapidity and then said: ''Come, be quick, we haven't a moment to spare!" Out through the kitchen she ran, seized a shovel, and with feverish haste dug a deep hole in the side of the ash- heap. Here," she said, handing Mr. Butler the quill tube, " keep this in your mouth. Jump in there at once and I will hide you. Be quick. Keep your eyes and mouth closed." The man leaped into the hole and Mrs, Fisher covered him with the ashes, being careful that the end of the tube was left free. Throwing the shovel to one side she entered the kitchen just as the Tories came upon the front piazza. She boldly 38 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. advanced to meet them, and with sharp, quick tones asked, " Who are you? What do you want here? " " Give»up that rebel, Joe Butler," said the captain. " We saw him turn in here." " Think you I would give him up if he were here? " " You've got him somewhere. Now tell us where he is. We GIVE UP THAT REBEL, JOE BUTLER, SAID THE CAPTAIN. shall find him anyhow." Thus shouted the captain, flourishing a pistol as he spoke. " Keep your pistol to frighten children with," replied the brave woman. " You will not intimidate me. If you want to give up your chase and look for neighbor Butler here, you can do so. It is not the first time defenseless women in Westchester County haveTiad their homes invaded by miserable Tories." BURIED IN THE ASH-HEAP. 39 " Come on, boys," called the leader. " She hid her rebel husband under the kitchen floor once, and perhaps Joe Butler is there now." Then the search began. The floor boards were torn up, but no rebel was found. Through the cellar they went, up the ladder to the loft. Beds were torn open, tables were overturned, the house was ransacked from one end to the other, but the missing man was not found. ** Some of you go out to the barn. He may be out there," said the leader. " I will stand here and keep an eye on both places," he added, stepping upon the ash-heap. What a mo- ment of fear and anxiety was that for Mrs. Fisher! Would he discover the man's hiding-place? It was almost beneath his feet. At length the search was abandoned, and with many threats against her rebel husband and the cursed Whig, Joe Butler, the Tories departed. Mrs. Fisher waited for half an hour after they had gone, and then, taking her shovel, she dug out the man and he stood upright. But what a spec- tacle! Scarcely able to stand from exhaustion, covered from head to foot with ashes, and almost blind, it was long before he was restored to his usual self. But, with the aid of soap and water and such simple means as were in the house, he was able after dark to return to his own home. As he bade Mrs. Fisher good-by on the front piazza, he said : " I thoueht I was a dead man when I crawled into the ash- o heap. I could not help thinking of the words of the preacher, ' Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.' " ** Yes," replied Mrs. Fisher, solemnly, " but out of the ashes you came to life again. So may it be with our country." And she stood in the doorway long after he had passed out of sight thinking of all her experiences with the Tories and the Hessians, and wondering if her beloved country and her simple home would ever again see peace and quiet. WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. The winter of 1777-7^ was by far the darkest period of the American Revolution. In September the patriot army was de- feated at the Brandywine, and the British forces occupied Phil- adelphia. In October came another defeat at Germantown. When winter arrived General Washington determined to put his army into quarters at some convenient spot near Philadelphia, where the British forces were to spend the winter. He selected the little village of Valley Forge and the hills adjacent, near the Schuylkill River, twenty-four miles northwest of Philadelphia. It was a picturesque spot, mostly covered with dense forest and well suited for defense. Separate camps were assigned to the different brigades and regiments, and the grounds were laid out. Washington gave careful orders for the construction of the various camps, and especially for the huts which were to shelter the soldiers from the storms and cold of the winter season. Trees had to be cut down and streets cleared and rendered passable. Houses were built, all of the same size, fourteen feet wide by sixteen feet long, with side walls six and a half feet high. The door was in the end next to the street, and a chimney of wood, lined with clay, was placed in the rear of the house with a large fireplace inside. These huts were built entirely of logs, the roof was made tight with slabs covered with dirt, while the sides and ends were plastered with clay on the inside between the logs. The door was made of split oak slabs. One of these houses furnished protection for twelve soldiers. WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 4I Washington's headquarters during the winter were in the house of Isaac Potts, but he would not occupy these quarters until his officers and men had completed their huts and were housed in them. All that time the commander-in-chief lived and ate and slept in his tent, without chimney or fire in it. Washington felt that while the main body of his troops were toiling and suffering from the pelting storms of winter he must share their hardships. It was not until he saw them in good quarters, his lines of defense drawn, fortifications and earthworks established and manned, and his extreme outposts indicated, that he left the comfortless tent for the stone house of Mr. Potts. The sufferings of the army during this long cold winter can in no way be realized. The men were destitute of proper cloth- ing and provisions. When obliged to move about, many pro- tected themselves from the cold by blankets and wrappings of every description. Four days after the camp at Valley Forge was established Washington wrote to the President of Con- gress that he had that day, December 23d, " two thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight men in camp unfit for duty because they are barefoot and otherwise naked, besides a number of men confined in hospitals for want of shoes, and others in farmers' houses on the same account." It was not uncommon for these poor men to keep themselves warm night after night by hud- dling round huge fires, sleeping by turns, reliefs being posted as regularly as for guard duty. " Numbers are still obliged to sit up all night by fires," wrote Washington, " instead of taking comfortable rest in a natural and common way." And he added. From the hardships and exposures they have undergone, par- ticularly for want of blankets, the number of men fit for duty has decreased two thousand in less than three weeks' time. . . . Three or four days of bad weather would prove our destruction." At this time the entire army of eleven thousand men had on hand but twenty-five barrels of flour and not a single animal of 42 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. any kind to supply meat for the men. In a letter to the Pres- ident of Congress Washington said: " I have done all in my power, by remonstrating, by writing, by ordering the commis- sary on this head from time to time, but without any good effect or obtaining more than a present scanty relief;" So weak had the men become that " had the enemy crossed the Schuylkill this !■•'..,/! the painting; jy Alonzo Chappie. WASHINGTON AND LAFAYETTE AT VALLEY FORGE. morning, as I had reason to expect, the division which I ordered to be in readiness to march to meet them could not have moved. It is unnecessary for me to add more upon the subject." The orders to march were received by the men with great joy. Later General Huntington wrote: " I received an order to hold my brigade in readiness to march. Fighting will be far preferable to starving. My brigade are out of provisions, nor WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 43 can the commissary obtain any meat." General Varnum also wrote to Washington: "According to the saying of Solomon, hunger will break through a stone wall. It is, therefore, a very pleasing circumstance to the division under my command that there is a probability of their marching. Three days succes- sively we have been destitute of bread ; two days we have been entirely without meat. The men must be supplied or they cannot be commanded." Thus the winter dragged on at Valley Forge. The sufferings of the American forces must be laid to the incompetent Colo- nial Government. The members of Congress quarreled and found fault, and did nothing to relieve the starving army. Some even thought that the men were too comfortably quartered in their log huts. Meanwhile only a few miles away the British army was comfortably housed in Philadelphia, and the ofificers passed their time in a continual round of balls and merrymaking. The soldiers were neither cold nor hungry nor weary. About the first of February Washington wrote: " There is little less than a famine in camp. A part of the army has been a week without any kind of flesh, and the rest three or four days. Naked and starving as they are, we cannot enough admire the incomparable patience and fidelity of the soldiers, that they have not been before this time excited by their sufferings to a general mutiny. Nothing but the most active efforts everywhere can long avert so shocking a catastrophe." At this time there were three thousand nine hundred and eighty-nine men in camp unfit for duty for want of clothes. Of this number scarcely a man had a pair of shoes. Among those capable of doing duty very many were so poorly clad that exposure to the cold of the season must have killed them. Although the total army ex- ceeded seventeen thousand men, the effective rank and file amounted to only five thousand and twelve. It was fortunate for the American cause that the British were 44 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. ignorant of the condition of our army. It is a wonder that Washington was able to keep his army together. Yet, in spite of sickness and suffering, the men never deserted and in reality seldom complained. In the midst of all these trials the soldiers remained firm and patriotic. Truer fame was never won by more heroic men, though they are nameless on our history's page. No greater victory ever blazoned the banners of any army than that which was achieved in the discipline of the patriots at Valley Forge. If the men suffered, how much more their commanding gen- eral. Mental suffering is keener than physical pain. The responsibility which Washington carried upon his shoulders throughout the war was great. This alone was almost enough to crush the man ; but when he, who was always tender-hearted, sympathetic, and intensely humane, was obliged day after day to witness the terrible sufferings of the thousands under his com- mand, how great beyond our power of estimation must have been his anguish ! While Washington was thus weighed down, Mr. Isaac Potts, in whose house the general had his headquarters, was strolling one day up the creek, when he heard a voice in the forest. Walking along quietly in the direction whence the voice came, he observed Washington's horse tied to a sapling. In a thicket near by he saw the commander-in-chief of the American army upon his knees in prayer, his cheeks wet with tears. Mr. Potts was greatly moved, and at once withdrew without being ob- served. He returned to the house, and upon meeting his wife burst into tears. When she inquired the cause, he told her what he had seen and heard, and added : " If there is anyone on this earth to whom the Lord will listen it is George Washington, and I feel a presentiment that under such a commander there can be no doubt of our eventually establishing our independence, and that God in his providence has willed it so." WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 45 One who has recently visited many of the commodious and well-kept farm-houses in the vicinity of Valley Forge asserts that the favorite engraving upon the walls of these houses is that well-known picture entitled "Washington in Prayer at Valley Forge. The sufferings of the army were not the only troubles that Washington's headquarters at valley forge. Washington had to endure during that terrible winter. Other generals were plotting and scheming to deprive him of his com- mand. Stories showing his unfitness for his position were cur- rent, and many hoped that he would be obliged to resign. Later events proved that the accusers and not the commanding gen- eral were incompetent. When spring came and Washington again took the field, he had an army that was well disciplined. In spite of the trials of the winter, the American troops had been 46 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. molded and trained into an army that was almost invincible. From that time they won a long series of victories, until at last the British commander surrendered and the American colonies were free. William J. Buck, member of the Historical Society of Penn- sylvania, in his history of Montgomery County, tells the follow- ing incident: In the latter part of the summer of 1796, and after his second term as president had nearly expired and he was there- fore to retire to the shades of private life, Washington concluded to see Valley Forge once more, the scene of so many toils and struggles. For the information respecting this visit, I am," continues Mr. Buck, " indebted to my friend Henry Woodman; and he learned it from the lips of his father, who at that time was ploughing on his farm in the vicinity of the encampment. " It was in the afternoon that he observed an elderly man of dignified appearance, on horseback, dressed in a plain suit of black, accompanied by a colored servant, ride to a place in the road nearly opposite; then he alighted from his horse, came into the field and took him cordially by the hand. He told him he had called to make some inquiry concerning the owners and oc- cupants of the different places there, and also in regard to the system of farming practiced in that part of the country, the kinds of grain and vegetables raised, the time of sowing and planting, the best method of tilling the ground, and numerous other ques- tions relating to agriculture. He also made inquiries after cer- tain families in the neighborhood. As answers were given him he noted them down in a book. " Mr. Woodman informed him that he could not give as correct answers as he wished, for he had not been brought up to farming, and besides he had only moved into the vicinity since the war, though he had been in the army while it was in camp there. This gave a new turn to the conversation. The stranger WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 47 informed him that he also had been in the army and at the camp, and that, as he expected to leave the city in a few months with a prospect of never returning, he had taken this journey to the scene of so much suffering and distress to see how far the inhab- itants had recovered from the effects of the war. On being told that his name was George Washington, Mr. Woodman told him that his appearance was so altered that he did not recognize him, or else he would have paid more respect to his late com- mander, now chief magistrate of the nation. He replied, to see the people happy and the desolate fields recovering from the dis- asters they had experienced, and to meet any of his old compan- ions now peaceably engaged in the most useful of employments, afforded him more satisfaction than all the homage that could be paid to his person or station. He then said that pressing en- gagements rendered it necessary for him to be in the city that night, and taking Mr. Woodman by the hand bade him an affec- tionate farewell." VI. RICHARD KIRKLAND. The Humane Soldier at Fredericksburg. The battle of Fredericksburg was fought on the 13th of December, 1862. General Burnside, commanding the Union forces, was obliged to send his men across the river under a heavy fire from " Marye's Hill." Having crossed, the army moved up toward the hill, but after desperate fighting was repulsed with crreat loss. No alternative remained but to recross the river. This movement left the wounded of the Union army on the field below the hill. There hundreds of soldiers were writhing in pain and suffering tortures from thirst. All night and all the next day the space was swept by artillery from both armies, and no one could venture to the relief of the sufferers. All the time agonizing cries for water went up from the field, and there was no response save the roar of the guns. Finally one brave soldier behind the Confederate ramparts felt that he could endure these piteous cries no longer. His compassion rose superior to his love of life. " Captain," said Richard Kirkland, " I cannot stand this. Those poor souls out there have been crying for water all night and all day, and it is more than I can bear. Let me go over there and give them a drink of water." The captain told him that it would be instant death for him to appear on the field, and he must stay where he was. Again the soldier begged his captain to let him carry water to those suffering men. He besought so earnestly that the offi- cer, admiring his devotion and noble courage, could not refuse RICHARD KIRKLAND. 49 his request. Dr. J. R. Miller, in his little book entitled " Mak- ing the Most of Life," tells the story as follows: Provided with a supply of water the brave soldier stepped over the wall and went on his Christ-like errand. From both sides wondering eyes looked on as he knelt by the nearest sufferer and, gently raising his head, held the cooling cup to his parched lips. At once the Union soldiers understood what the soldier in gray was doing for their own wounded comrades, and not a shot was fired. For an hour and a half he continued his work, giving drink to the thirsty, straightening cramped and 4 50 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. mangled limbs, pillowing men's heads on their knapsacks, and spreading blankets and army coats over them, tenderly as a mother would cover her child; and all the while, until this angel- ministry was finished, the fusillade of death was hushed. "Wemust admire theheroism that led this brave soldier in gray so utterly to forget himself for the sake of doing a deed of mercy to his enemies. There is more grandeur in five minutes of such self-renunciation than in a whole lifetime of self-interest and self- seeking. There is something Christly in it. How poor, paltry, and mean, alongside the record of such deeds, appear men's selfish strivings, self-interests' boldest venturings!" Another instance of a man's taking his life in his hand for humanity's sake is told by a Union officer in the Civil War, who was an eye-witness of the affair. The Union forces had sent out their line of pickets across an open plain from the main body of troops. While these picket men were on duty, the Confederates appeared in full force at the end of the plain. Battles, skir- mishes, reconnoissances, — one movement after another took place for several days. Meanwhile the pickets could not return across this plain, which was swept by the Confederate infantry. They had water from a brook, but they had nothing to eat. A Union soldier undertook to carry them food. Grasping a box of " hard-tack" and pressing it against his breast with his arms clasped round it, he rushed headlong across the open plain. What a target he made for the Confederate sharp-shooters! Volley after volley was fired at him. One ball went through his arm, another through his coat, a third made a gaping wound in his hat, a fourth struck the box of hard bread ; but on he sped. The men on picket duty sent up cheer after cheer, and he suc- ceeded in carrying his treasur-e through to the famished soldiers; then he fell exhausted from over-exertion and the loss of blood from his arm. Such deeds were not uncommon in connection with the two RICHARD KIRKLAND. 5 I armies during that terrible Civil War. But that spirit of com- passion for another, that forgetfulness of one's own safety in order to preserve the life of others or prevent their suffering, is not confined to any one people or to any one race. It is, per- haps, conspicuous in the Anglo-Saxon race. Sir Philip Sidney, an English gentleman, soldier and author of the sixteenth cen- tury, was mortally wounded in the battle of Zutphen. After he had received his wound he called for water to drink, and it was brought him; but just as he was about to put it to his lips a wounded soldier who was being carried by looked at the water bottle with such intense longing that Sir Philip said to him, " Take it. Take it. Thy necessity is greater than mine." VII. JERRY O'BRIEN. " The British have fired ! The British have fired ! Our min- ute-men have been shot down in cold blood by the British! " This cry came from a sloop as it neared the wharf of the little settlement of Machias, almost on the extreme eastern end of the Maine coast. It was the ninth day of May, in the year 1775. The messenger had been sent to tell the towns along the coast the news of the firing at Lexington and Concord of that shot " heard round the world." Hardly had he landed when he was surrounded by a crowd of men, women, and children, who asked questions so fast that he could scarcely answer. In time, however, he was able to tell them of the firing at Lexington Green, because the " rebels " would not ** disperse"; of the fight at Concord Bridge; of the retreat of the British; and of the terrible penalty they paid as the minute-men fired upon them from behind stone walls on the way back to Boston. He was continually interrupted by exclamations of "Oh, the tyrant!" — "Is that the boasted kindness of the mother country?" — and " What will the cruel wretches do next?" All was excitement, and for the time all hearts burned with an intense hatred for England and for Eng- lish soldiers. The energetic farmers and hardy seamen were stirred to even greater anger by the presence in the harbor of the British schooner Margaretta, This armed vessel was busily engaged in collecting the best lumber of the Maine woods for the use of the British navy. No tree that was straight and of the right height JERRY O BRIEN. 53 and thickness for masts could be cut by the colonists. All such belonged to the government. Some of the townsmen, feeling that by their expedition to Lexington the British had begun war on the colonies, proposed to strike back at once. The next day was Sunday, and Captain Moore of the Margaretta was accustomed to come ashore and attend church. A plan was formed to seize him during the serv- ice, but he, hearing an unusual noise at the church doors, jumped from a window and fled in safety to his vessel. Weigh- ing anchor, he ran the schooner outside, where apparently it was safe. Monday morning, Joseph Wheaton met Dennis O'Brien on the wharf and said to him : *' Can't we capture the old tub some- how? Let's take that lumber sloop at the wharf there, get a crowd of fellows, and go after it." " All right," replied Dennis, turning to two other young men who had joined them. The four men started on a run, and in a few minutes had possession of the sloop, which was named the Unity. The cheers that arose at their success drew a crowd to the wharf, and Wheaton explained his plan to the new-comers. In the crowd was the leader of the village " boys," Jerry O'Brien. He shouted enthusiastically, " We can do it, my boys. We can do it; but let's wait until we can send word and bring in everybody." Among the volunteers who came from far and near was Joseph Weston of Jonesboro. He left home in such haste that he forgot his powder horn. He consoled himself with the thought that he could borrow, but he found that when all the ammunition was put together there were but three charges for each man. He was scolding himself for his carelessness when two girls were seen coming from the woods. One was his wife, who had been married but five months and was only sixteen years old, and the other was his sister, a year younger. 54 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. Mrs. Weston had noticed the powder-horn soon after her husband left home. She at once put in a bag all the powder in the house, and the two girls started afoot for Machias. There were no roads and no bridges, but they found their way by means of the blazed trees along the trail. The powder weighed forty pounds, and was carried first by one and then by the other of the frail girls. This brave act was as surely a proof of patriotism as was that of the husband and brother as he started in the Unity to attack the Margaretta. The sloop carried thirty-five men, carefully picked, because nearly the whole region had volunteered. These thirty-five men had twenty guns, including an old " wall-piece," so-called be- cause it was too heavy to be fired without a support. Fifteen pitchforks and twelve axes completed the equipment of their amateur war-vessel, which was setting out to attack a British schooner armed with twenty-four cannon, two wall-pieces, forty muskets, twenty pistols, besides cutlasses, boarding-axes, hand- grenades, and an abundance of powder and shot. Captain Moore saw the Unity sailing out of the harbor, and again hoisted anchor and ran away. He seemed to be afraid to await the attack, and he was apparently no better sailor than fighter. Scarcely had he started on his flight when the boom of his vessel broke. Bringing his schooner up to a merchant vessel anchored near by, Captain Moore took her boom by force and adjusted it in the place of his broken one. This took so long that the £/;^//j/ had come within firing distance. " Fire! " com- manded Captain Moore. A broadside flashed out, and on board the Unity one man fell. Jerry O'Brien was ready for the con- test, and the fight was on. The wall-piece had been placed in charge of a man named Knight. He was a typical Maine backwoodsman, a hunter and Indian fighter. When O'Brien said, " Let her go. Knight," he took a long, deliberate aim and fired. This first shot from an < JERRY O BRIEN. 55 American vessel, at the beginning of the Revolutionary War, showed that an American uses his brain as well as his hand. The helmsman of the Margaretta threw up his hands and fell dead ; and the shot so frightened the crew that all fled from the deck. The schooner could make no headway with no hand to guide it; and the wheel swung back and forth as the waves beat upon the rudder. The Unity now bore swiftly down upon the Margaretta, the f !l»''^' ''" ,,il.!lii,f|» A BROADSIDE WAS FIRED. " hay-makers " and " wood-choppers " standing ready to spring the moment the crash came. Armed with the pitchforks and axes which they so well knew how to use, the Machias men leaped over the rail. Captain Moore was no coward, after all, tor he fought bravely, throwing his hand-grenades with telling effect. A musket-shot ended his life, and the crew surrendered. It had been a desperate contest. There were forty sailors aboard the schooner, and thirty-five men on the sloop. Of these seventy-five men twenty, more than a quarter, were killed or wounded. The British vessel was well protected ; it had can- non and ammunition in plenty; it had more men than its antag- 56 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. onist. But the sturdy Maine pioneers, accustomed to endure cold and hunger, and to fight with Indians and wild beasts, knew no fear. Fighting, as they realized, for home and liberty, they were more than a match for even trained seamen. This was the beginning of Captain Jerry O'Brien's career. Having captured other vessels and brought them into port, he received a commission from Massachusetts and set out again to prey upon the enemy. In all his career, however, he did not succeed in eclipsing his first naval exploit, when with a crew of " hay-makers " he captured one of the vessels of His Majesty's navy. In 1900 a torpedo boat for the United States navy was launched from Nixon's ship-yard at Elizabeth, N. J., and in mem- ory of these brave brothers of Machias was named the "O'Brien." It was christened by Miss Myra Lincoln O'Brien, a great grand- daughter of the youngest brother, Joseph. The historic sword worn by Lieutenant Moore of the British sloop-of-war Margar- etta was exhibited at the launching of the ship, which is the first naval vessel of the United States to bear an Irish name. VIII. COMMODORE PAUL JONES. The American navy has had a series of eminent commanders, distinguished aUke for their bravery and their success. The first commodore of our navy was Esek Hopkins of Rhode Island. Following him, among the notable naval leaders were Paul Jones, Decatur, Hull, Porter, Perry, Farragut, and Dewey. No one of these was a bolder, braver captain than Paul Jones. Commodore Jones was a native of Scotland, and in his youth borethe name of his father, John Paul. He early showed a strong passion for the sea, and became a sailor when twelve years old. Before he was twenty he had twice served as mate of a vessel, and he was captain of a brig at twenty-three. At the age of twenty-six he came to North Carolina to settle the estate of a brother. There he m.ade the acquaintance of a family by the name of Jones. Willie Jones and his brother Allen were per- sons of great prominence and influence in that section. These two brothers and their families were very friendly to the young sailor, and he remained with them until the beginning of the American Revolution. So attached to these friends did he be- come that he assumed their name and was ever after known as John Paul Jones, or, more popularly, Paul Jones. He served in the American navy in command of a number of vessels, and after the war he was for a time in the Russian service with the rank of Rear-Admiral, but he reserved the right to return to the United States at any time when his services should be needed. Indeed, he was always an American. " He described himself with touching simplicity, not as Commodore, Chevalier or 58 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. Admiral, titles he had loved, but in greater words as* John Paul Jones, a citizen of the United States.' " He died in Paris at the early age of forty-five. Paul Jones was " A man remarkable for audacity of con- ception, boldness in planning, hardihood in carrying out, and PAUL JONES. downright courage in the supreme moment." He was naturally passionate, ambitious, self-willed, impetuous; but he had suffered keen disappointment, by which he had learned to control his feelings. As is seen in the story of his bravery which is now to be told, he was considerate, tactful, forbearing, persuasive, and able to hold himself under strong restraint. COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 59 In August, 1779, he left the coast of France in command of a full-rigged ship, renamed the Bon Homme RicJiard^ accompanied by the Alliance, the Pallas, and a small brig called the Ven- geance, He sailed across the mouth of the English Channel, round Ireland and Scotland, and along the eastern coast of Eng- land to Flamborough Head, a bold promontory bearing a light; house and jutting far out into the North Sea. About noon, on the twenty-third of September, Jones sud- denly discovered, coming around the headland, a large ship fol- lowed by a second and a third ; soon six were in sight, then twenty, and finally forty sail were counted. They were flying the British flag. Paul Jones had been looking for a large fleet of merchant vessels from the Baltic, and here was the fleet directly before him. It was convoyed by two war-vessels, one of which proved to be the frigate Serapis, in command of Cap- tain Richard Pearson. As Paul Jones bore down upon the leading ship, the merchantmen, one after another, tacked and finally headed for the harbor of Scarborough, hoping to find safety under the guns of the castle. The commander had already been informed that Paul Jones was off the coast, and he was on the watch for him. The Bon Homme Richard vjdiS an old, worn-out hulk, scarcely seaworthy, with condemned guns, and manned by a motley crew, some Americans, some English, and some French. Jones had a total of forty guns, capable of throwing less than three hundred pounds of shot in a broadside. After the first fire some of the guns had to be abandoned, so that his broadside would be less than two hundred pounds of shot. The Serapis was a new vessel with a total of fifty guns, one- half of which would throw a broadside of over three hundred pounds of shot. She was manned by three hundred trained and disciplined English seamen of the best quality. Her captain was a splendid officer who had had a distinguished career. 6o AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. But the American commander had such unexampled audac- ity, such resolution, such cool-headed determination, that so long as he lived he could not be conquered. One of his biog- raphers* says: " They might knock mast after mast out of the Richard; they might silence gun after gun of her batteries; man after man might be killed upon her decks; they might smash the ship to pieces and sink her beneath his feet; but there was no power on earth which could compel him to strike her flag." Now for the battle. The great guns were cast loose, the magazines were opened, the powder" monkeys " were clustered about the hatches, cutlasses and pistols were distributed, board- ing-pikes were ready at hand. The officers discarded their hats; swords were buckled on ; everything was in readiness. Jones himself, a little man of slender proportions, paced steadily to and fro on the deck of the Richard ^.s she drew near the Scrapis. It was seven o'clock in the evening. The harvest moon hung over the eastern sky. A settled silence spread over the American ship. Many a man's thoughts went back to his home, and many sailors at that moment were in imagination looking upon their wives, children, mothers, friends, in the distant land. The ships drew nearer, nearer. Suddenly from the rail of the English ship was heard the cry, " What ship is that? " " I do not understand you," replied Jones. " What ship is that? Answer at once, or I fire." The answer came quickly, but it was not in words. Paul Jones had spoken to his own ship a sharp word of command, and even as he spoke a line of fire from his broadside lighted up the darkness, followed by the roar of his cannon. Then the Scrapis belched forth her iron rain, and broadside answered broadside. The heavy bass of the huge guns was punctuated by the sharp, high-pitched rattle of the small arms. They were now at close * Cyrus Townsend Brady, from whose " Life of Commodore Paul Jones" many of the details of this narrative have been taken. COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 6l quarters, and the firing was incessant for nearly an hour. The Richard struck the Scrapis on the port quarter and the two ships hung together. Their position was such that the guns of neither could bear upon the other. Pearson thought it was about time for the Richard to surrender. He sprang upon the rail and called out, " Have you struck? " Then Paul Jones returned that heroic answer which has ever since been the watchword of American sailors: " I have not yet begun to fight." " Have you struck? " Indeed, Paul Jones " struck "? No, he had not struck and he never would strike. The fighting was only about to begin. His ship was already shattered beyond repair, his best guns were exploded and useless, his crew was decimated, but he, as captain, had " not yet begun to fight." Then Jones put his helm hard a-starboard and swung off to port, hoping to get into position where he could rake the Scrapis. The batteries re-opened. They were at close range. Jones again swung the Richard diVQcXly across the path of the Scrapis and poured a raking fire upon the British frigate from his star- board batteries. He then with his own hand lashed the two vessels together. The sailing-master, Mr. Stacy, provoked at some delay, broke into the natural oath of a sailor. " Don't swear, Mr. Stacy," said Paul Jones," in another moment we may all be in the presence of our Maker, — but let us do our duty." A spare anchor on the British vessel caught in the chains of \.\\Q Richard s^nd the two ships were firmly bound together, the bow of one by the stern of the other. Now the battle was waged with the utmost fury. The Richard wdiS leaking rapidly, and the prisoners were put to the pumps. The ship's carpenter, thinking that all was lost, fumbled about in the darkness for the halliards to pull down the flag, and called out to Paul Jones that all was lost, the ship was sinking, and that he must surrender. Jones, unable to stop the outcry of the terrified man, knocked COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 63 him down with the butt of his pistol. Just then Pearson hailed again, asking if the Richard had struck. Jones gave a most determined negative. Pearson attempted to board the Richard. Jones and a few men, pike in hand, resisted the attack and it was abandoned. The Richard was a wreck. Her batteries were silenced, she was on fire in two or three places. The surgeon, driven from below by the increase of water, rushed on deck and advised the commodore to surrender. " What!" cried Paul Jones, smiling — " what. Doctor? Would you have me strike to a drop of water? Help me to get this gun over." The fight went on. Both crews were doing their best. They fought with tremendous bravery, but the issue lay between Jones and Pearson. One must surrender. Jones wouldn't; Pearson had to. Pearson had beaten his antagonist half a dozen times, but Jones did not seem to realize it. Paul Jones was so unconscious that he had been beaten that, although his vessel was sinking and he was surrounded by dead and dying, he would not surrender. Captain Pearson lost his nerve. He walked aft and pulled down his flag. "They have struck their flag," cried Jones. " Cease firing. " But from beneath the decks came the roar of the guns of the Serapis. She had resumed her fire, but Jones immediately ordered a boarding party to leap over upon the Serapis. Led by the brave Richard Dale, a party of men bounded down upon her deck and walked aft to where Captain Pearson was standing with bowed head, leaning against the rail, flag in hand. " Have you struck?" cried Dale. ** Yes, sir," was the reply. " I have orders to send you aboard the ship alongside," said the American. ** Very good, sir," answered Pearson. Just at this moment a lieutenant interrupted them. 64 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. " Has the enemy struck to you, sir? " he asked of Pearson. " No, sir; on the contrary he has struck to us," replied Dale. But the English lieutenant refused to believe him. " A few more broadsides and they are ours," said the lieu- tenant. " Their prisoners have escaped. They are sinking." " The ship has struck, sir," said Dale. " You are my pris= oner." But the English ofificer would not believe it. He turned to Captain Pearson and said, " Sir, have you struck?" " Yes, sir," said the captain. " I have nothing more to say, sir," said the officer. "If you will permit me to go below I will silence the firing of the lower deck guns." " No, sir," said Dale; " you will accompany your captain on board our ship at once, by order of Commodore Jones. Pass the word to cease firing. Your ship has surrendered." Dale feared that the lieutenant would go below and resume the conflict. Then Dale, Captain Pearson and the lieutenant climbed over to the deck of the Richard where they found Paul Jones, hatless, his face begrimed with smoke and his uniform torn and bespattered with blood from a slight wound in his forehead. As the English officers stepped upon the deck, Jones met them and bowed gracefully. " You are ?" began Pearson. " Commodore John Paul Jones, of the American sqOadron, and the ship Bon Homme RicJiard — at your service, gentlemen; and you are ? " " Captain Richard Pearson, of His Britannic Majesty's ship SerapiSy'' was the reply, and he handed his sword to Paul Jones. Jones replied : " Sir, you have fought like a hero and I make no doubt that your sovereign will reward you in the most ample manner." Americans have always appreciated the nobility of this gracious answer from Paul Jones. COMMODORE PAUL JONES. * 65 The Richard was in a fearful condition. She literally had been torn to pieces. Her rotten timbers could not withstand the searching shot of the Serapis. Jones himself wrote: " With respect to the situation of the Bon Homme Richard, the rudder was cut entirely off, the stern frame and the transoms were almost entirely cut away ; the timbers, by the lower deck especially, from the mainmast to the stern, being greatly decayed with age, were mangled beyond my power of description, and a person must have been an eyewitness to form a just idea of the tremendous scene of carnage, wreck and ruin that everywhere appeared. Humanity cannot but recoil from the prospect of such finished horror and lament that war should produce such fatal conse- quences." The vessel was settling lower and lower in the water, and finally it was determined to abandon her. The prisoners and the wounded were taken off, and although working with all haste, they did not succeed in transferring all the wounded to the Serapis before daybreak of September 25th, the second day after the battle opened. All the wounded and all the prisoners were finally taken off the vessel, and at about ten o'clock in the forenoon she went down bow foremost. Jones watched his ves- sel until she disappeared below the waters, and then, the masts having been carried away, he put up a jury rig to the Serapis and the squadron sailed away from the coast of England to Dunkirk, France. Thackeray, the great English writer, told an American friend that the account of the amazing capture of the Serapis by Paul Jones was one of the most extraordinary stories in naval annals. IX. JESSE D. ELLIOTT. The War of 1812 with Great Britain was the second contest waged by the United States against the mother country, and it was the last occasion when the two nations were in open hostil- ity with each other. Of course, neighbors cannot always agree. The United States and Great Britain, or rather Canada, which is subject to Great Britain, have frequently found occasion to differ. Sometimes the quarrel has been over the fish near New- foundland, or the seal near Alaska. Again, the necessity of pay- ing duties when goods crossed the boundary line has made trouble. More frequently this line itself has caused the ill- feeling. First came the northeastern boundary question, concerning the northern line of Maine, and then the northwestern boundary dispute over the possession of Oregon. To-day the countries disagree about the Alaskan boundary near the great gold fields. One by one these disputes have been settled by agreement. One trouble after another has been overcome by the making of one or another treaty. At no time has either nation cared to say to the other, " Agree to our demands or we will declare war." Peace and good will have been the rule, and war be- tween these two great nations has not occurred since the peace of 1814. May it never be known again ! It is not strange that there have been these disputes about the boundary. Look at the map and see how Maine is appar- ently cut out of Canada; note that Ontario seems to be pushing its nose into the United States. In the early history, however, 68 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. little attention was paid to the boundary, for the land on both sides of the line was covered with forests and far removed from the centers of settlement. By and by immigrants began to settle on the southern shores of Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, and then both countries came to realize the importance of the Great Lakes. So in the War of 1812 each side found it necessary to put forth its best efforts to take and hold the lakes. Many heroic actions took place on these inland seas. It was on Lake Erie that Commodore Perry gained his famous victory and made happy an entire nation by his message, " We have met the enemy and they are ours." It was on Lake Champlain that Commodore MacDonough won a victory that put him in the first rank of naval commanders. There were other deeds that have not been frequently recounted; some that were as heroic as those described in all histories. Among such heroes whose names are seldom spoken, few deserve more credit than Jesse D. Elliott. Commodore Chauncey, who had been put in charge of the naval operations on the lakes, made his headquarters at Sackett's Harbor, at the eastern end of Lake Ontario. There he began preparations to buy and build a fleet in order to take possession of the lake. Lake Erie must be held by another fleet, and Lieutenant Elliott was sent to Buffalo to take charge of the work there. He decided to build and equip his vessels in a little harbor at Black Rock, a village two miles from Buffalo at the head of Niagara River. Directly across the river was the strong British fortification — Fort Erie. When war was declared in 1812 the United States was build- ing a vessel at Detroit. Almost immediately that town was captured by the British and the nearly finished boat fell into their hands. They named it the Detroit and sent it into Lake Erie, together with the trading vessel Caledonia, which they had purchased. JESSE D. ELLIOTT. 6g These two brigs arrived at Fort Erie a few days after Lieu- tenant Elliott reached Buffalo. He saw them as they came to anchor before the fort and at once decided that it would be better to capture two vessels than to buy or build two. For Elliott to decide was to do. He immediately began to prepare boats and to collect men and ammunition. At midnight the start was made. Two large boats set out from Black Rock with about one hundred and twenty men. The crews were armed only with muskets and were planning to attack two vessels well fitted with cannon. The Detroit had been built for war and had ten guns and sixty men on board. The Caledonia was manned by fewer men and had but two guns; but the crew were brave pioneers, alert and ready for any kind of contest. The vessels were also protected by the strong batteries of Fort Erie. The two American boats were barely away from land when the crews found that something more than fighting was in store for them. The boats were so heavily loaded that they could not go over the bar at the mouth of the little creek from which they started. The men were obliged to jump into the water and push the boats over the sand. The bar crossed, their labor was not over. The water was rushing from the lake with fearful rapidity, and for three hours they struggled against the current, rowing far up the stream so that they might approach the brigs from above. Then silently, without voice of command or splash of oars, the current bore them down towards their prizes. The boat commanded by Lieutenant Elliott reached the Detroit just as her bells were striking six — that is, at three o'clock. The first that the Detroit's crew knew of the attack was the sound of a pistol shot. A band of fifty men then poured over the rail and the sleepy British sailors were easily overcome. The Detroit again belonged to the United States. When the batteries of Fort Erie began to boom, Elliott defiantly replied with his captured cannon until the ammunition gave out. Mean- ^o AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. while the men were busy hoisting sails, raising anchors, and get- ting the brig toward the American shore. Elliott soon found that he had a more difficult foe to contend with than Fort Erie. Though every sail was set and every effort made, the Detroit could not stem the current. She drifted down the river and ran ashore on Squaw Island, a short dis- tance below Black Rock. Forty-six prisoners were taken ashore and a large part of the cargo. As the brig was still within range of the British guns, Elliott was compelled to set her on fire to prevent her falling into the hands of the British again. He had not succeeded as he had hoped, but she could no longer turn her guns against an American vessel. Meanwhile the other boat, in command of Sailing-master Watts, reached the Caledonia just after Elliott had captured the Detroit. The sturdy Can- adian trappers were more alert than the British sailors and met the invaders with a brisk fire of musketry. The American crew outnumbered the Canadians and within ten minutes the brig was in the hands of the attacking party. The Caledonia had better fortune than the Detroit, and was soon safe in Black Rock harbor. She was found to be loaded with two hundred thousand dollars* worth of furs, the sale of which provided extra money for the equipment of other vessels for the fleet. Lieutenant Elliott's night attack was bold but judicious. As JESSE D. ELLIOTT. JESSE D. ELLIOTT. 7I is often the case in time of war, surprise proved to be half the victory. He obtained by his exploit the first vessel of the fleet which Commodore Perry afterward used with such great effect. He deprived the enemy of the only two vessels which they then had for the contest on Lake Erie; he seized a valuable cargo and took more than fifty prisoners, besides recapturing fourteen Americans who had surrendered at Detroit. It was not a great fight. It has been called ** a trifling skirmish." Yet it did great damage to the British power on the lakes, and "as an example of dashing bravery the feat thrilled the whole American nation." Congress showed its appreciation of the heroic act by presenting Lieutenant Elliott with a sword and by promoting him to a higher position in the United States navy. X. LIEUTENANT WILLIAM B. GUSHING. It is a dark night in late October of 1863. Summer is over and the air is cool and frosty. A small open launch is quietly steaming from Albemarle Sound into Roanoke River. On board are fifteen brave volunteers, led by Lieutenant William B. Gushing. They have embarked upon a desperate undertak- ing; death or captivity stares them in the face. In the Sound are anchored several wooden vessels belonging to the United States navy. These have been placed there to blockade the river, so that no Confederate vessels shall enter or leave. Eight miles up the river, at a wharf in the town of Plymouth, lies the Confederate ram, the Albemarle. This iron- clad vessel has already caused great injury to the Federal fleet and it is expected that it will soon make another attack. Lieu- tenant Cushing has volunteered to attempt the destruction of the ram. He knows the dangers ahead of him and so do his crew. The enemy are expecting an attack and have encamped sol- diers here and there on each bank of the narrow river. In the center of the stream guards have been placed on the wreck of a gunboat which the Albemarle had previously sunk. Only by a surprise can Cushing hope to destroy the ram. Can the launch pass all these pickets? Will it not be seen or heard long before it reaches the town? None but a daring com- mander would think it possible to reach the ram without being noticed. Yet the apparently impossible sometimes happens. Quietly the launch moves along. The soldiers on the bank see nothing and hear nothing. Silently the launch passes the LIEUTENANT WILLIAM B. GUSHING. 73 wreck. It is not hailed. Perhaps the pickets are asleep. The town is reached and all is quiet. There looms the great shadow by the wharf — the iron-clad ram. *' Perhaps," thinks Gushing, " I can capture it. They are ten times my men, but a surprise is everything." A watcher on the AlbejHarle, however, is alert; he sees the black speck on the water. " Boat, ahoy! Who goes there?" rings out on the frosty air. No reply, but the speck moves nearer. Another hail, and then a shot awakens crew and town. Undaunted, the launch dashes toward the dark side of the Albemarle, until she strikes a circle of logs placed there to pro- tect the ram. She backs off a little and then, coming at full speed, slips over the logs close to the iron fortress. The guns boom out, but they cannot be lowered sufificiently to strike the launch. The crew of the ram are therefore directed to use their muskets. Now comes the part of the whole venture that requires the greatest courage, the coolest nerves. With shot whizzing by him and through his clothes. Gushing stands in the bow of the launch. At his command a long spar is swung under the edge of the ram. With a cord in each hand he waits for the best moment; then he draws the cord in his right hand and releases a torpedo at the end of the spar. A bullet strikes his left hand, but he pulls the cord which explodes the torpedo. The slightest unsteadiness of hand or wrist would put the whole apparatus out of order; but Gushing's nerves are like iron; even the bullet wound does not affect them. The torpedo is scarcely ten feet from the heroic lieutenant, and a heavy mass of water nearly throws him from his feet. Neither he nor his men can tell what effect the explosion has had. The firing from the ram continues; a call to surrender comes. The launch is now useless, shut up within the logs. Another call, but Gushing, shouting " Boys, save yourselves," 74 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. throws aside sword, revolver, shoes and coat, and jumps into the icy river. Three of the crew follow him, but the other eleven men deem it wisest to surrender. What had been accomplished by the heroic act? The car- penter who was sent by the captain to examine the damage HE DRAWS THE CORD IN HIS RIGHT HAND. done to the ram reported that there was ** a hole in her bottom big enough to drive a wagon in." The Albemarle was destroyed, though neither her crew nor the brave prisoners realized it. The ram was in such shallow water that it sank but little, and to all outside appearance was as good as before the explosion. But there was the hole and to attempt to repair it was evidently use- less. Cushing's skill had exploded the torpedo at exactly the LIEUTENANT WILLIAM B. GUSHING. 75 right time and place. The captain of the ram said: ** A more gallant thing was not done during the war." What became of Gushing and the three men who preferred the river and probable death to captivity? One of them suc- ceeded in swimming directly across the river and lay concealed in a swamp for thirty-six hours. Then he was picked up by one of the vessels of the Federal fleet as it approached the now de- fenseless town. A second man, unable to reach the shore, lost his life in the waters. The river was already dotted with row- boats and his dying cry attracted the attention of one of them. This put Gushing, who was near by, in great danger, but he swam away, far down the river. At last Gushing felt it safe to attempt a landing. Just at that moment he heard a groan from someone following him, and in spite of his own wearied condition he turned back to aid his comrade. It proved to be the fourth of those who had made the attempt to escape. The man's strength was gone, however, and though Gushing helped him all he was able, he could go no farther and sank to the bottom. Gushing, again alone and with his strength almost spent, turned to the shore on the town side of the river. Just as he thought that his last moment had come his feet struck the mud on the bank. He took one step and fell exhausted, half in the mud and half in the water, where he stayed, nearly frozen, until daylight. When day appeared he discovered that he was in almost as dangerous a spot as could have been found. He was scarcely out of the town, not much over a hundred feet from one of the forts, on whose walls a sentinel was pacing back and forth. The only way of escape lay through a swamp, full of perils to one unacquainted with its bogs. As soon as the warm sunshine had taken the chill and some of the stiffness out of his limbs, Gushing renewed his attempt to l6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. escape. When the sentinel's back was towards him he made a dash across an open space between the river bank and the rushes of the swamp. He had gone but half the distance when the sentinel turned ; Gushing dropped on his back just where he wa>s. While he was lying there, four soldiers came along a path, talking earnestly, and passed so near that one nearly stepped on his arm. It was strange that they did not see him, but he was so covered with mud that probably he had the appearance of the earth itself. He dared not rise again, but he must reach the swamp. Flat on his back, he pressed his heels and elbows into the soft earth and moved his body along inch by inch. He reached the shel- ter of the rushes at last, but found that his hardships were not over. The swamp was a tangle of briers and thorns that tore his clothes and cut him like knives. The ground was so soft that he sank into mud at every step. Sometimes he was compelled to throw his body at full length and move himself along by his arms alone. Thus he struggled, where no path had ever been, for five weary hours, until he reached an old cornfield and came into full view of some soldiers at work on the river. Keeping low in the furrow behind the cornstalks. Gushing succeeded in passing within fifty feet of the soldiers without being seen. Then he entered the woods, where the ground was harder and where for the time being he was safe. All this while Gushing had a great desire to know what he had accomplished. It would have been reckless to return and see; in flight lay his only safety. But in the woods he came upon a negro whom he persuaded to go to Plymouth and bring him the news. Rested and greatly encouraged by the good report which the man gave him, Gushing again plunged into the wooded swamp and traveled on, with no guide but the sun. Early in the afternoon he reached the bank of a stream. Peeping through the underbrush he saw on the opposite bank LIEUTENANT WILLIAM B. GUSHING. 77 a party of soldiers, who immediately went back into the woods. Tied to a tree in the stream was a flat-bottomed boat. Here was Cushing's opportunity. He swam across, loosed the boat, and pushed it quietly down the stream. Fortunately he was not seen, and before the loss of the boat was discovered he had made a bend and was out of sight. Then he drew himself into the boat and paddled away as fast as one oar could carry him. Chilled, bruised, cut, tired, as he was, he paddled on and on. It grew dark, but he dared not rest. He reached the Sound, which was quite calm ; ordinarily such a small boat would have been swamped by high waves. He guided his boat by a star, in the direction where he thought the fleet must lie. Hav- ing paddled for ten hours he reached the picket ship, which he hailed, and then fell exhausted in the bottom of the boat. Cushing's return and the news that the expedition had been successful caused great rejoicing. An immediate attack upon Plymouth was decided upon, and two days later the town and the river were again in the possession of the Union fleet. Cushing was sent to Hampton Roads, Virginia, to make his report to Admiral Porter, who thanked him in the warmest lan- guage. The Naval Department presented its congratulations to him, and Congress voted him the thanks of the country and raised him to the rank of Lieutenant Commander, though he was but twenty-one years of age. Everywhere praises of the gallant act were sounded, and the name of Cushing was on the lips of everyone. In the words of Commodore Soley, " It is safe to say that the naval history of the world affords no other example of such marvelous coolness and professional skill as that shown by Cushing in the destruction of the Albemarle^ XL RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. Our recent war with Spain developed many instances of sur- prising bravery and heroism. Every one knows the story of Admiral Dewey's utter destruction of the Spanish naval squad- ron in Manila Bay, without the loss of a single man and with only a few slightly wounded. Equally well known is the won- derful account of how the entire Spanish fleet at Santiago, Cuba, was destroyed. All the vessels of the enemy were burned or sunk; four hundred Spaniards were killed or drowned, while on the American side but one man was killed and only three were wounded. It was in May, 1898, that the Spanish fleet under command of Admiral Cervera slipped into the Bay of Santiago. This fleet of seven vessels, four of them being large iron warships of mod- ern build, was the pride of Spain. The channel leading from the bay was narrow, and Admiral Sampson determined to obstruct this channel so that no ship could pass out. He had with him a young naval constructor, a native of Alabama, a graduate of the Annapolis Naval School, named Richmond Pearson Hobson. He was a quiet young man, cool, collected, and brave as the bravest. During the run of the flag-ship from Key West to Santiago Admiral Sampson made his desire known to Hobson, and together they planned this blockade, though the minute de- tails were perfected by Lieutenant Hobson. It was proposed to take the Merriinac, a collier, to the mouth of the harbor under cover of night, turn it crosswise where the channel was not more than one hundred feet wide, and there RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. 79 sink it. In different parts of the hull were placed explosives, connected with the deck by electric wires, which would blow up the vessel when it was in position. It was thought that the crew could not possibly succeed in escaping from the fire of the Span- iards; but when Hobson called for volunteers hundreds re- sponded with cheerful courage, although each one of them knew there was little chance of his re- turning alive. Six men were selected for the desperate undertaking. An- other, who was at work on the Merrimac, refused to leave her, and so made the seventh man of the crew. On the morn- ing of June 3d, about 2.30, the Merrimac ran along the western side of the harbor entrance and moved up opposite Morro beyond the batteries. When she reached the desired position the helm was put hard to starboard, and a few moments later the electric knob was touched and the seven charges of powder were fired. The collier had been discovered, and the cannonade from Morro Castle and the bat- teries along the shore had completely riddled her. The rudder had been partly shot away, and the crew were unable to swing her to the exact position intended; but she was sunk in the RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. 8o AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. channel with the weight of her two thousand tons of coal hold- ing her firmly in place. But what became of the brave Hobson and his equally brave comrades? According to the plan which Hobson had so care fully prepared, the crew were to leap into the water as the vessel sank, and swim to the row-boat in tow. If the boat was dam- aged, they might resort to the life-raft on deck. But the Span- ish fire was so intense and sweeping that it would have been madness at that close range for the crew to expose themselves for an instant. Meantime, until the ship should sink, Hobson and his men lay flat on deck, hoping that some Spanish boat might steam near enough for them to call out and surrender them- selves as prisoners of war. Every gun of the fort and the batteries and the Mauser rifles of the Spanish soldiers poured fire upon tliem; the decks were again and again torn and splintered by plunging shells; the few minutes seemed to lengthen into hours. The vessel rose and then suddenly fell back and went down beneath the waves. The men were now in a whirlpool of rushing waters. They came to the surface and gathered round the life-raft which was floating above the sunken craft. Every man was there. That was the greatest marvel of the whole enterprise. By this time the Span- ish boats were in sight, and they dared not show themselves; so they clung to the raft with only their faces above water, and waited for daylight. The darkest hour or the most terrific night will have an end. As daylight was approaching a steam launch bore down near them and was soon within easy hearing distance. Hobson shouted, *' We wish to surrender as prisoners of war. Have you any officer to receive our surrender? " At once the men on the launch aimed their rifles, but instantly came the command not to fire. Then Hobson discovered an elderly man raising his hand. It was no one else than Cervera himself, that " grand THE MERRIM.lC Ekl\t. bANTIAGO HARBOR. 82 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. old Spanish Admiral Cervera," who, as Admiral Sampson re- cently said, " holding Hobson's life in his hand spared it for pride at the brave deed of his young foe." The Americans were picked up and taken to the Spanish flagship. Later in the day Admiral Cervera sent an officer under flag of truce to Admiral Sampson to tell him that Hobson and his men were safe. " Daring like theirs," he said, " makes the bitterest enemy proud that his fellow-men can be such heroes." So great was Admiral Cervera's admiration for the daring of his enemy that during Lieutenant Hobson's critical illness, in 1900, he sent from Spain a telegram of sympathy, saying that he prayed daily for his recovery. As prisoners of war, Hobson and his men were treated with great consideration by their Spanish captors, and in due time were exchanged and sent to their friends. Their wonderful exploit had been blazoned broadcast by newspapers all over Europe and America, and when the heroes returned home they were received with great honors. Lieutenant Hobson, in par- ticular, was feted and praised in all parts of the country. Wherever he went, people wanted to hear from his lips the story of ** the sinking of the Merrimac/' Admiral William T. Sampson has spoken thus of him : " The Spanish officers in charge of the prison forgot their hatred of Americans through their admiration for the individual, and as for our own nation, when the tale was told they went wild with praise of one of the bravest deeds ever known. Lieu- tenant Hobson, when, after his release from prison, he returned home, received an ovation which would have turned the head of an older man. Can any one of the vast crowds that pressed about him then remember that he ever gave one sign of over- weening pride ? He spoke extemporaneously, and under the influence of extraordinary excitement, to multitudes in different places. Did any one ever hear him speak of himself or his own RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. 83 deeds ? A man always of amazing coolness and self-control, marked through all these years that we have known him for sub- ordinating self to duty, no matter how bitter the cost. . . . He is, believe me, as strong as in his cadet days, when, a mere boy, he deliberately gave up for the sake of stern principle all the joys of popularity. He is as brave to-day, I know, while com- bating the weakness and torment of fever, and he will be as brave to-morrow, whatever life dares him to do or to suffer, as he was in the hour when he offered his life for his country." XII. ENSIGN GHERARDI'S BRAVERY IN THE HARBOR OF SAN JUAN. On the 8th of August, 1899, a terrific hurricane passed over the West India Islands. The path of the cyclone included the Lesser Antilles, Porto Rico, San Domingo, and the eastern end of Cuba. Its greatest severity was on the island of Porto Rico. The storm raged with full fury from eight o'clock in the morning through the greater part of the day. Build- ings were blown down all over the island, crops and cattle were destroyed, the rivers overflowed their banks, and whole towns were flooded. It was estimated that two thou- sand persons lost their lives, and that three-quarters of the population of the island were rendered homeless and des- titute. The total loss in tobacco, coffee, and other products of the island was estimated at not less than seventy-five million dollars. The War Department at Washington immediately made arrangements for sending relief, and called on the governors of ENSIGN W. R. GHERARDI. ENSIGN GHERARDl'S BRAVERY. 85 the several States for voluntary aid. After the storm had sub- sided, Captain Snow, commanding the United States naval sta- tion at San Juan, reported to the department at Washington the noble courage of Ensign Gherardi, who was conspicuous for his bold daring and great skill in saving lives in the harbor of San Juan. The schooner Concepcion, loaded with one hundred and fifty emigrants from San Domingo, was caught by the storm in the harbor of San Juan, and, through the terrific force of the wind, was dragging her anchor. It was evident that she would soon sink, or go to pieces on the shore. The passengers were obliged to jump overboard and take the chance of reaching the shore by swimming. Ensign Gherardi and J. J. Jim.inez, a civil engineer, ran along the beach to the point nearest the schooner, plunged into the water, and dragged the unfortunates one by one ashore. Again and again they were carried under the waves, but by almost superhuman exertions they succeeded, strange to say, in saving all. Six persons only would not leave the schooner, and they were drowned, as the vessel went to pieces. Meantime the steamer Vasco was in great distress, and after several unsuccessful efforts, these two men, with others, formed a life line, headed by Gherardi. They were baffled again and again, but by heroic efforts succeeded in getting hold of a line which had been thrown out from the steamer. They fastened the line to a tree on the shore, and the entire crew climbed along this line from the stranded vessel and were saved. Throughout this whole enterprise Gherardi was the leader, and, altogether, more than one hundred and fifty lives were saved. Ensign Gherardi suffered severely from exposure and hardship, and had to be sent to the naval hospital at New York to recruit. Twice before had he been honorably mentioned for conspicuous bravery. XIII. THE LIFE-SAVING SERVICE. No men endure more hardships, or are exposed to greater perils, than "they who go down to the sea in ships." The skill and ingenuity of the present day have made the modern vessels marvels of speed, strength, durability, and beauty, but even these drift helplessly in the face of a furious storm, and the safety of men and ships often depends on the mercy of wind and waves. Those who live in seaport towns have become accus- tomed to the frequent disappearance of boats and men, but few become so hardened that they do not remember the sailor when the wind rages around the chimney tops, and the waves roar upon the shore. For the help of the mariners, the United States Government has built many lighthouses, and has also placed life-saving sta- tions at frequent intervals along the Atlantic and Pacific coasts and on the Great Lakes. Each station has a tower, where a continual watch is kept in stormy weather, and it is provided with the most approved appliances for the saving of life. A keeper resides in the station the year through, and during nine months of the year he has under him a crew of hardy seamen, picked from the bravest of the sailors along the coast. These men are always on the watch for signals of distress, so that they may be ready at a moment's notice to launch the lifeboat and go to the aid of a ship in danger. No matter how severe the storm, the patrol keeps up his lonely beat along the shore. The fiercer the storm the more is the careful watch needed, even though the wind rages so that THE LIFE-SAVING SERVICE. 8/ the journey must be made on hands and knees, and though the waves break over him so that he must hold to the ground to keep himself from being washed into the sea. The faithful life- saver leaves undone no duty, and braves every danger if by his sacrifices he may save one life. The storm of November, 1898, probably tested the endurance and the courage of the life-savers along the North Atlantic coast more than any other storm in the history of the service. Hun- dreds of vessels went down or were cast upon the rocks and shoals off the shore, and scores of lives were lost. The story of two days of this storm well illustrates the self-forgetfulness of the heroes of the life-saving service. The first call for assistance from one of the stations just south of Boston harbor came about eight o'clock in the morning, from the schooner Henry R. Tilton, which had gone on the rocks. Immediately the lifeboats were manned and went to the rescue of the crew. The snow fell fast, and it seemed im- possible for even a lifeboat to breast such a sea in such a wind, but after several hours of great exertion the boat returned to the station with every man saved. Hardly had the apparatus been put up before the lookout reported a ship in distress a mile and a half from shore. Though nearly exhausted, the crew got out the lifeboat, and again went to the rescue. The ship proved to be a large coal barge, on which five nearly frozen men were clinging to the rigging while the furious surf constantly broke over them. The lifeboat reached the barge, and one by one took the crew off over the life-line. They were so chilled and helpless that the life-savers did not dare to take them a mile and a half to the station ; so they headed the boat to the nearest point on the shore, landed, and broke open a vacant cottage near the beach. Fires were built in the stoves, and the half-frozen men were stripped of their wet clothing, rubbed until the blood began to circulate, and 88 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. then wrapped in the comforters that were found in the house. It was four o'clock in the afternoon before the company reached the station. The crew had been constantly on duty all day. Through the growing darkness of the short winter day the keeper thought that he saw, far in the distance beyond the lighthouse, signals of distress. The men were too weary to set out again that night, but early the next morning the boat was launched and all hands turned out. A tug towed them within a quarter of a mile of the wreck, but could go no farther. " THE BOAT DREW UP ALONGSIDE THE WRECK.' The lifeboat was cut loose, and the crew " with mighty strokes sent the boat into the combers on the shore, each man deter- mined to outdo his neighbor." At times the waves completely covered them, but unharmed, the boat drew up alongside the wreck. She was in a pitiable condition. Her masts were gone, her deck was ripped up, and the timbers were almost dropping apart. Away forward a small part of the deck remained, and here five men were huddled together. Three of the crew were already dead, and the remaining five were hardly able to reach the rescu- THE LIFE-SAVING SERVICE. 89 ing boat. Then the h"fe-savers rowed quickly away to the wait- ing tug, where the sufferers were warmed and fed. When the crew reached the station they found a message stating that three men could be seen on Black Rock, some dis- tance along the shore. A lifeboat belonging to the Massachu- setts Humane Society had tried to rescue them, but had been overturned, and had not made the attempt again. The crew of the life-saving station did not hesitate. The boat was placed upon its carriage, and hauled by horses along the beach to a point nearer Black Rock. Here it was quickly taken from the wheels, run down to the water, manned and launched, while the cheers from a hundred men collected on the beach urged it on. The boat mounted the waves, which were rolling in " moun- tains high," each man bending low over the oars. Now it was lost to sight in the trough of the sea, now mounting high on the crest of a wave, only to disappear again. The surf was so high and dashed against Black Rock so furiously, that for an hour the boat hung off, waiting for a favorable opportunity to approach. At last a lull came, the boat was rushed toward the rock, the three men were pulled in, and without a scratch the lifeboat turned toward the shore, in the face of a head-wind. Seven o'clock came before the station was reached. For two days the crew had worked from morning to night, and they had saved nearly a score of men. '* We succeeded," said the keeper of the station in his report to the Government, " in getting every man that was alive at the time we started for him, and we started for him at the earliest moment in each case." XIV. KEEPER CHASE. Sandy shoals extend out a long distance about the island of Nantucket, off the New England coast, and vessels must keep far out to sea if they would escape the dangers of shipwreck. Frequently a vessel runs aground, and then the life-savers of NANTUCKET LIGHT. Coskata know that they have a long, hard duty before them. On the morning of a winter day, when the thermometer stood at twelve degrees above zero, and a fierce icy norther was blowing, Keeper Chase received a telephone message from the lighthouse keeper at Sankaty Head, stating that during the night rocket KEEPER CHASE. 91 signals had appeared off the shore, and as dayh'ght came on he could see what looked to be the masts of a schooner on Bass Rips. " Is the vessel still there? " asked Keeper Chase. " Yes, still there." '* All right, then. We will launch and go to her at once. Call up Vineyard Haven. Tell the keeper to send a tug, if one is in port, toward Great Rip. A vessel somewhere beyond may need a tug. Tell him that we have gone to her assistance, and that we will need the tug to pull us back." Instantly the men began to run out the lifeboat and get ready for their dangerous voyage. Not one but knew what such a trip meant before that raging wind across Nantucket Shoals; but not a man refused to go. Mile after mile they rowed until Bass Rips, ten miles out, was reached. No vessel was to be seen. The schooner must have sunk, or must be beyond on the ** Rose and Crown," the most dangerous shoals of the many around Nantucket. As the lifeboat went on, the tips of masts were seen, then the rigging. The schooner had sunk until the railing was nearly even with the water, and every wave rolled over her and over the seven men who were clinging to the rigging. The lifeboat anchored, letting out a long hawser, and then, steadied by the oars, drifted down in the current toward the vessel. The rowers carefully watched every motion of the keeper and listened closely for the slightest command. A false stroke or an instant's hesitation meant death for them all. When the boat had drifted near enough, a stout stick, to which a small line was attached, was thrown aboard the vessel. To the end of this line was fastened a heavy rope, which the crew hauled in and made fast to the rigging. Hand over hand, the men in this boat drew nearer, but their coming was too slow for the half-crazed men on board the wreck. They began to 92 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. draw the line in rapidly, and there was great danger of swamp- ing the lifeboat. " Make that line fast! " commanded Keeper Chase; but they paid no heed. Chase took out his knife, opened it, and passed it to the bow oarsman. " I have charge here," he cried. " Pull this boat another foot nearer and the line will be cut." His mighty voice rang out over the raging seas, and the men on the wreck saw the open knife. For fifteen hours they had expected death, and now that frail boat was their only hope. They made the line fast, and the rescuers drew as close as they dared. Then over the line, in the life car, the crew slid down, one by one, to the lifeboat, where they were drawn in and stowed away, too lifeless to help. When the last man was aboard, the line was cut, the anchor weighed, and the boat turned against the wind. Land was out of sight, fifteen miles away. Three hours the life-savers toiled without making headway; then they anchored until the tide turned. Even with the tide the progress was so slow that in six hours after leaving the wreck but one mile of the fifteen had been made. Night came, and yet the crew toiled on. Finally one said, " Captain, let me sleep ten minutes and Fll be all right." So they took turns sleeping all through that long, weary night, but they could be allowed to sleep only a few moments at a time. Every hour they hoped to see the lights of the tug, but the only light in sight was that of the lighthouse on Sankaty Head. Afterwards they learned that the tug had hung around for several hours, and then, not daring to go farther or to stay out longer, had returned to Vineyard Haven. In the morning of the next day they reached land, at a point eight miles from the station at Coskata. It was afternoon before they had sufficiently recovered from their exhaustion to proceed KEEPER CHASE. 93 farther, and when they reached home they found that they had been given up for lost. The keeper's wife drew down his tired, cold face, and kissed it. The tears sprang to his eyes, and in a voice he could scarcely control he called to his men, " Now, boys, stow away the boat and get your suppers. It's 'most time for the sunset patrol." XV. BRAVE JACK EAGAN.* John Francis Eagan was known as the most courageous man in the fire department of Boston. He was a Boston boy, born of Irish-American parents, and educated in the pubh'c schools, where he had the reputation of being a plucky chap. He was always called Jack Eagan. Boy and man, he never missed a fire, and he aspired to a place in the fire department be- fore he was out of his teens. At twenty he received his appoint- ment as a member of the Boston fire department, and five years later he was made lieutenant. One year after that he was cap- tain, and was placed in charge of the famous Fort Hill division, probably the most important in the city. It was on a cold March afternoon in 1893 that four alarms were rung, one after another in quick succession, saying more plainly than words could that the city was threatened with an- other conflagration like that which swept away most of her business blocks over twenty years before. It started near the same spot as the great fire of 1872. It was in Eagan's division. The thought flashed from eye to eye and from mouth to mouth, " Boston is doomed." Hark! what is that ? " Save the Brown-Durell building. It is a hundred feet high. It is our only hope." From man to man the word was passed. " It cannot be saved." " It must be." * This story of bravery and self-control in time of danger is taken princi- pally from one of the popular lectures of Dr. A. E. Winship of Boston. BRAVE JACK EAGAN. 95 " There Is a hydrant on the roof. If it can be turned on all will be well." " No one can do it." " I will." It was Eagan, the captain. He called for no volunteers. He would ask no man to risk his life. Like the very wind, Eagan sprang to the fire-escape and fairly flew up the side of the building. Once upon the roof, he opened the hydrant and let the mighty stream leap forth. He stopped for a moment, stepped to the edge of the roof, and waved his cap to the throng below, as much as to say, " I've done it again, boys." But oh, tlie horror of the next scene ! He turned, only to see at the first glance that the fire-fiend, thwarted in its purpose, had snatched up the next building, and the blistering flames were dancing on the fire-escape. His return was completely cut off. There seemed no way of escape. Again he stepped to the edge of the roof and made a sad and pathetic motion with his hand, as though he would say, " It's all over, boys. I have done it once too many times. Good-by, good-by. " The next moment he was all alive with energy and purpose. He would never say " too late." At his feet his eye caught sight of an electric-light wire which ran across Kingston Street to the building opposite. It was his only hope. The current CAPTAIN EACiAN. 96 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. had been withdrawn, he knew. He dropped upon the wire and crept out over the street, hoping to reach the building opposite, but knowing that every second mright be his last. The wire swayed back and forth ; his body quivered with very despair. He reached the middle, but the wire sagged so that, though in frantic desperation he clutched it, he could not move forward another inch. He heard the firemen below moving back, so that they might not be there when he fell. His brain reeled. "Steady, steady; the life line is coming." Eagan looked up, and on the opposite roof saw a man casting the life line as coolly and composedly, apparently, as though he were tossing him a wreath of honor. The whole scene changed. Eagan grew calm, and awaited the relief that was so surely coming. The line reached him. Holding himself in position with one hand and his feet, with the other hand he adjusted the rope, and was safely lowered to the street. But how was this brought about? The moment brave Jack Eagan dropped upon the wire a man below instantly foresaw what would happen, and with commanding firmness called out, "Where is the lifeline? The life line ! " Quickly seizing the line, he selected four men instinctively and led the way by leaps and bounds up flight after flight until he reached the roof, out of breath, but superhumanly calm, and not one second too soon. The great building was saved, and Boston was saved. We know that Jack Eagan saved Boston, but who saved Jack Eagan is not known. Heroes, both of them — he who made the race with the life line as well as he who went where he would order no man to go or follow. Jack Eagan's life was saved that he might be of still greater service to the fire department. Again and again he exhibited conspicuous bravery, until February, 1898, when a fire occurred on Merrimac Street, which for a time baffled the energy and skill of the firemen. As usual, Jack Eagan was unmindful of BRAVE JACK EAGAN. 97 his personal safety. The entire interior of a large building was already nearly burned out. Eagan was on the fifth floor when all below him, including the floor on which he was standing, gave way. He was carried down with tlie burning mass from the fifth to the first floor, and buried in the ruins. His body was found as soon as possible, but life was extinct. He was saved in the great fire of March, 1893, only to perish because of equal bravery in the fire of February, 1898. 7 XVI. SERGEANT VAUGHAN. The Hotel Royal fire in New York City occurred on the morning of February 7, 1892, the alarm being given just after three o'clock. It was a beautiful morning, but very cold. As the officers of Patrol 3, at 104 West Thirtieth Street, started out from the station, the captain, who was new in the district, asked Sergeant Vaughan where he made the fire to be. The sergeant looked up at the glow against the sky, and replied that he thought it v/as one of the hotels, either the Royal or the Bryant. As they drew near they discovered that the Hotel Royal was on fire, and that the flames had already made great headway. The staircases had been cut off, and the guests were jumping from the windows into the street. In the corner window of the third story a woman was standing, in her nightrobe, preparing to jump, as others Vv^ere doing. Vaughan, who was ever on the lookout to save life, had seen from the patrol wagon a chance to rescue her. "Hey, there, woman !" he shouted, "what are you going to do? Don't jump. Stay right where you are, and I'll save you. Hear me? Well, mind, then. I'll be there in a minute." In a dwelling-house adjoining the hotel he had noticed a window on the same level as that at which the woman stood, and only a few feet away. Vaughan seized an ax and leaped from the wagon to the sidewalk. Before he reached the curb- stone the body of a man who had jumped from some window above came swiftly through the air and struck the pavement just SERGEANT VAUGHAN. 99 in front of him. The man's Hfe was instantly crushed out, and Vaughan was spattered with blood. Brushing away the blood, he ran up the steps of the house, and with a well-directed blow of the axe broke through the door. A second stout door barred the way, but he kicked that open, and without an instant's delay rushed up the two flights of stairs and burst into the room at the front of the house. A man and his wife were asleep in this room, wholly unconscious of the fire and the peril so near them. A word from Vaughan quieted the woman's fears. Her husband he at once called to his assistance, telling him that at the next window in the hotel was a woman waiting to be saved. The sergeant threw up the sash, and seating himself astride the sill, twined his left foot in the electric wires which ran down the divi- sion line between the two houses. His right foot was firmly grasped by the man inside. Thus Vaughan formed with his leg a bridge nearly the whole distance between the two windows. Meanwhile he had kept the woman encouraged as well as he could. This was no easy task, for people were jumping to death from above her, and the flames were constantly getting nearer and nearer. Finally all was ready, and the sergeant told the woman to hold on to the window-casing and step out first to his knee, when he grasped her firmly with his left hand. Another step brought her near the window-sill, and then Vaughan leaned back and thrust her, head foremost, into the L.cfC. SERGEANT VAUGHAN. lOO AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. room through the space in front of him. In this singular fash- ion he rescued not only the woman, who was Mrs. Phillips, wife of the proprietor of the hotel, but also her child, her husband, and another man. Mr. Phillips was a stout man, weighing over two hundred pounds, and, during his " walk over," Vaughan wondered if his knee would not snap under the weight. As it was, although the knee did not break, he was painfully injured about the groin. Vaughan weighed only a hundred and forty pounds, but he was strong and wiry, with the muscles of an athlete. He had always been an athlete. He told the narrator — for this entire account was taken directly from his own lips — that he had never drunk a drop of liquor. When he saw drunken men reeling through the streets, he made up his mind that he would never be seen in such a condition. Without doubt this good habit contributed largely to his power to perform these heroic feats. As soon as these four persons had been rescued, Vaughan rushed to the roof of the dwelling and out through the scuttle. The hotel was a story higher than the house, and in the wall above the house were four windows with shutters closed. These shutters Vaughan quickly burst open, but found the rooms empty and the corridors seething with flames. As the sergeant saw nothing further to do here, he started to go down to the street, but just then he thought he heard a smothered cry for help. He looked this way and that, but could find no one. Again he started to descend and again heard the cry. He searched farther, and finally, by the light of the fire, he saw a man standing on a window sill on the farther side of the rear of the hotel. Vaughan called to him to stay where he was and he would rescue him. He hurried down through the house, met four of his men just coming from the hotel and enlisted their aid. Not a spare lad- SERGEANT VAUGHAN. 101 der or rope could be found; all were in use. Running past the rear of the hotel he reached a house on the opposite side from where he had been, and, calling his men to follow him, he hur- ried up to the roof. There he waited for his helpers. In telling the story he said that it seemed an age before they appeared. Finally, one red hat after another came up through the scuttle, and Vaughan was ready for work. The house had a coping, rising slightly above the roof. The sill of the window where the man stood was about seven feet below and off to the right. Vaughan pushed his head over the coping and called, "Hello, Pop ! " "Hello, Fireman," he replied. Vaughan told him how he proposed to save him. The man looked at the sergeant's slight form — he himself weighed two hundred and three pounds — and shook his head. "It's no use," he said. "You can't do it. I will stay here till it gets too hot; then I'll jump." Vaughan said afterwards that he never saw a braver or a cooler man, and he made up his mind that he must save him. "No, you won't jump," he cried. "It's a pretty hard yard down there. I'll save you, or die with you. Now, you do just as I tell you, only let me get the first grab." The sergeant stripped off his coat, and put his body so far over the coping that it swung free from the waist, while the four men sat on his legs, two on each. The man at the window wore a heavy overcoat, in which he had wrapped himself and had then rolled over the floor through the suffocating smoke to the window. Vaughan with his outstretched hands could just reach his coat collar, which he firmly grasped. At the same instant, by previous directions, the man seized Vaughan's wrists. Just as the man swung himself free, the flames and smoke shot through the window. Vaughan was severely scorched about the head and shoulders, but he kept his hold. The man, 102 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. who was more completely enveloped by the flames, fainted and hung limp in the sergeant's hands. However, he still held on to Vaughan's wrists with a death-like grip. The strain of so much dead weight was terrible. Vaughan could hear his joints snap. His intention had been for the man to brace his feet against the wall and walk up the side, as it were, while his men hauled them both upon the roof. " Hoist! " he shouted to the men on the roof. They pulled with all their might, but, do their best, the four firemen could not move an inch the joint weight of the two men. What next? For an instant Vaughan thought that all hope was gone. When the man jumped off from the window his body received an impetus to swing like a pendulum. As it swayed back and forth, a new plan came, like a flash, into Vaughan's mind. Could he swing the man far enough for his helpers to catch hold of his clothing ? He shouted a brief, smothered direction. His men under- stood, and two went to the edge of the roof, while the other two, with almost superhuman strength, kept Vaughan's body from going over the edge. The blood was dripping from his ears and nostrils, but by a supreme effort he swung the man's body so far that the two firemen caught between their fingers an inch of the very border of the overcoat. Exerting all their powers, they gained inch by inch till they grasped his undershirt. It gave way under the strain. A sudden fear froze the men's hearts, but they kept grimly at it until they seized a leg. Then they pulled over the coping the unconscious man, and with him his brave rescuer. A sheet of ice had formed on the roof from the fire-engine streams, and back upon this Vaughan fell unconscious. But he soon recovered, and with his companions carried the man to the bathroom of the house below, and there tried to restore him, but in vain. It was here that Vaughan discovered that he was SERGEANT VAUGIIAN. 103 a white man. He had been so blackened with smoke that Vaughan had thought he was a negro. The unconscious, man was taken to the ambulance and carried to Bellevue Hospital. He did not revive until the next day. He was a lawyer from Hazelton, afterwards a member of the Pennsylvania Legislature. Later Vaughan received from him a splendid, manly letter, with a check for a good round sum enclosed, which, however, he refused to accept and returned. The New York Journal offered Vaughan a gold medal, but this he also declined. The New York Board of Fire Under- writers awarded him a gold medal, and of this he is justly proud. Vaughan has also received the Underwriters' bronze medal for ten- years' efficient service, the silver medal for fifteen-years' service, and it will not be long before he will be entitled to the gold medal for twenty-years' service. After the heroic deeds of this memorable morning at the Hotel Royal fire, the sergeant returned to the patrol house and lost no time from duty, though he did not feel like himself again for several weeks. He is now Captain of Patrol No. 2, at 31 Great Jones Street. He has never ordered his men to go into danger, but has always led the way, and they have always confidently followed. VAUGHAN S GOLD MEDAL. XVII. AN HEROIC POLICEMAN. One Saturday afternoon in December, 1900, a well-known business man of Boston and his wife were seated in a closed car- riage, with their coachman on the box, driving a pair of spirited horses along Commonwealth Avenue. The team was making good speed along the wide boulevard, and the driver had the horses under perfect control. Just as they reached the top of the hill at the Cottage Farm bridge, the spirited pair became startled at a sawing machine working on the right side of the street — they jumped, and dashed into a gallop. Just as the coachman was beginning to check their speed, a steam automo- bile rushed by them with great speed, giving the horses a terrific fright. Instantly they darted away at breakneck speed. The driver did his best to check the frenzied animals, but they had taken the bits in their teeth and could not be pulled in. Away they galloped on a long down-grade, the carriage swerving from side to side. Carriages, bicycle riders and other pleasure-seekers gave the runaways a free road, while those on foot stopped on the sidewalks and watched with bated breath, expecting every moment to see the carriage overturned and the occupants thrown to the ground. As they came to the up-grade at St. Paul's Street, the driver made a determined effort to pull in his steeds, but to no avail. He could not check their speed. He therefore directed all his efforts to keeping in the road and avoiding a collision. On and on sped the thoroughly frightened and almost wild animals. They went by the Alston Golf Club grounds like a flash. The AN HEROIC POLICEMAN. 105 driver kept a tight hold on the reins, yelling at the top of his lungs, ** Clear the road ! Look out, look out ! Clear the road " ; and at the same time he cautioned the two occupants of the carriage to hold fast and keep cool. Much praise was due him for his coolness and good judgment. A mounted policeman of Brighton, Albert N. Bates, spied ALKERT X, liATES. the runaways as they neared Brighton Avenue. He was on the alert in an instant, and started his horse on the jump ahead of the team so that he was going nearly as fast as the run- aways when they caught up with him. The distracted animals were coming at a great rate, while the driver coolly held a tight rein and kept them in the middle of the road, though he could not in the least check their speed. Ahead of him the driver Io6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. saw that a heavy team had backed across the street, leaving no room for passage. " Get your team out of the way. I can't stop these horses," he shouted. It looked as if the frightened animals would collide with the wagon, but just in the nick of time the dray horses were swung in, parallel with the curbing, and the runaways went by. It was here that the police officer began his good work. He shouted words of encouragement to the driver, telling him what to do when he should reach him. " I will grab the near horse," he said, " and you pull hard on the other one." The policeman came abreast of the runaways. Grasping his own bridle reins with his left hand and urging his spirited black horse to his best speed, Bates leaned far over the neck of his animal and seized the rein and curb bit of the near horse with his right hand. At the same time the driver gave this horse a slack rein and devoted his whole strength to the other runaway. The officer's horse kept up the pace, otherwise his rider must either have relinquished his hold upon the bit or tumbled off under the feet of the runaways. Bates continued to shout to the driver. " Give them a straight road. Pull hard on the off horse," he said; "we will have them in a minute." Though it seemed that there was no let-up in their speed, the animals were being rapidly brought to submission. The combined efforts of the two men brought them down to a trot, and just before reaching Union Square they came to a full stop. The gentleman and his wife, frightened but uninjured, were out of the carriage in an instant, thanking the officer for what he had done. The team was taken to a stable near by, where it was found that neither the horses nor the carriage were injured in the least. The animals were given a short rest, and then were driven back to their stable by the coachman. The mounted policeman was a skilled horseman, and this is only one record from his long list of captured runaways. XVIII. RUNAWAY LOCOMOTIVES. On May 22, 1900, a party going east over the Santa F^ rail- road had just crossed the divide, and the travelers were con- gratulating themselves that they had escaped the avalanche which at this place a few weeks previously had delayed the trains for several days. A heavy rain had fallen the night before, so that there was fear of a landslide, but now all prob- able dangers seemed safely passed. At Trinidad, Colorado, a morning paper was obtained, the Denver Republican, and in glancing over its columns the eye struck this : " Yesterday a curious accident happened on the Santa Fe railroad near Trinidad. A large switching engine was in charge of Engineer Jones and Fireman Larkin. As it was moving southward from El Moro, up grade, the throttle lever by some means became fixed so that it was immovable, and the steam, therefore, could not be shut off. The engi- neer used every means to shut off steam and stop the locomotive, but his efforts were unavailing and the huge monster was, therefore, totally unmanageable. The fireman jumped off and was safe. '' The engineer, however, stood at his post, trying to find some means of moving the lever, but all to no purpose. Directly in front of him was a long freight train, just then moving off upon a siding. Finally, seeing that his engine was about to run into this freight train, the engi- neer leaped off and the locomotive continued to dash onward. For- tunately, however, before the runaway reached the freight train, the latter had completely passed off from the main track on to the siding and the track was clear. But what next would be likely to happen? io8 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. The runaway was speeding on toward Trinidad and was likely to dash into some train sooner or later. *' A young man in the employ of the railroad saw the oncoming engine, observed that no one was in the cab, and determined to stop the runaway. Hastily securing an elevated position, when the locomo- tive approached him he leaped upon it, dashed into the cab, discovered WHEN THE LOCOMOTIVE APPROACHED HIM HE LEAPED UPON IT. what was the matter, picked up a bar of iron which was lying upon the tender, and with one heavy stroke moved the lever, shut off the steam, stopped the locomotive, and no harm was done." Consider for a moment what this young man had risked. It was a dangerous experiment to leap upon a passing engine. He might have fallen under the wheels and been crushed to death in an instant. If, happily, he secured a foothold, he might still be unable to stop the machine until it had dashed into some obstruction and his life was again endangered. But with appar- RUNAWAY LOCOMOTIVES. lOQ ently no thought for his own safety, he was intent only on pre- venting an accident — and he succeeded. There are many brave men in the employ of the railroads, and not infrequently accidents are reported where engineers or firemen, or common laborers, appear to be wholly unmindful of their own safety, risking all to save the lives of others. What faith we have in these men ! We put our lives in the keeping of the conductor and the engineer. In Christmas week, a few years ago, there passed over Penn- sylvania a freezing rain storm. The streets we^e glare ice. The rails upon the railroads were covered with ice. On Monday before Christmas a long, heavy freight train on the Pennsylvania road was coming down the mountains toward Altoona. The rails were icy, and the train soon refused to obey the brakes. The force of the reversed locomotive, the brakes upon the wheels, and every effort that could be put forth, all were useless. The engineer was powerless. The speed of the train was constantly increasing, but neither engineer nor fireman would leave his place. Both stood by, doing all in their power to check the speed of the train, but to no purpose. On it came, its tremendous length and weight adding force to its downward motion. Fifty niiles an hour, sixty, seventy, it swept onward, but the faithful engineer and fireman stood at their posts, quick of thought, fertile in re- source, doing all that could possibly be done to check the speed of the heavy train. In front of the station at Altoona was standing an empty passenger train. With a speed of seventy miles an hour this long and heavy freight train dashed into the rear of these pas- senger cars. They were completely demolished — broken into kindling wood. The engine was overturned, the wreck was piled up ten, twenty, thirty feet in height. Strange to say, neither engineer nor fireman was hurt, though no AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. both were dazed by the overturn. The' engineer pulled himself out of the wreck, and, not knowing what he was doing, ran across the yard to a high board fence. Evidently, in his bewil- derment, he was endeavoring to find a place of safety. As he could not reach the top of the fence, and consciousness was returning to him, he turned about and saw the fireman running towards him. Instantly he exclaimed: " Why, Jack, are you safe, too ? " and Jack replied: " Yes, thank God, I am." And then and there he dropped upon his knees and poured out his gratitude to God for his preservation. XIX. JOHN COULTER. John Coulter was a member of the Lewis and Clark party which explored the western country from St. Louis to the mouth of the Columbia River. They traversed the valley of the Mis- souri River in the summer of 1804, passed the winter on the eastern side of the Rocky Mountains, and went over the moun- tains and down the Columbia River to its mouth the next sum- mer. They returned from the mouth of the Columbia to St. Louis during the summer of 1806. On their return, when they reached the Missouri, Coulter obtained permission from Captain Lewis to leave the party, as his services would not be needed further, and remain in that region to hunt beaver. The follow- ing narrative of Coulter's experiences is taken from Bradbury's " Travels in the Interior of North America." This is a work of great merit, written by John Bradbury, an Englishman, who made a remarkable tour through Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee and up the Missouri River in the years 1809, '10, and 'il. The account of his travels was published in London in 1817 and had a large sale. " John Coulter came to St. Louis in May, 18 10, in a small canoe from the head waters of the Missouri, a distance of three thousand miles, which he traversed in thirty days. I saw him on his arrival, and received from him an account of his adven- tures after he had separated from Lewis and Clark's party. One of these, for its singularity, I shall relate. " On the arrival of the party at the head waters of the Mis- souri, Coulter, observing an appearance of abundance of beaver 112 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. being there, got permission to remain and hunt for some time, which he did in company with a man by the name of Dixon, who had traversed alone the immense tract of country from St. Louis to the head waters of the Missouri. Soon after, he sepa- rated from Dixon, and trapped in company with a hunter named Potts; and, aware of the hostihty of the Blackfoot Indians, one of whom had been killed by Lewis, they set their traps by night, and took them up early in the morning, remaining concealed during the day. " They were examining their traps early one morning, in a creek about six miles from that branch of the Missouri called Jefferson's Fork, and were ascending in a canoe, when they sud- denly heard a great noise, resembling the trampling of animals; but they could not ascertain the fact, as the high, perpendicular bank on each side of the river impeded their view. Coulter im- mediately pronounced it to be occasioned by Indians, and ad- vised an instant return, but was accused of cowardice by Potts, who insisted that the noise was caused by buffaloes, and they proceeded. In a few minutes afterwards their doubts were removed by a party of Indians making their appearance on both sides of the creek, to the number of five or six hundred, who beckoned them to come ashore. As retreat was now impossible, Coulter turned the head of the canoe, and at the moment of its touching, an Indian seized the rifle belonging to Potts; but Coulter, who is a remarkably strong man, immediately retook it, and handed it to Potts, who remained in the canoe, and, on receiving it, pushed off into the river. He had scarcely quitted the shore when an arrow was shot at him, and he cried out, ' Coulter, I am wounded ! ' Coulter remonstrated with him on the folly of at- tempting to escape, and urged him to come ashore. Instead of complying, he instantly leveled his rifle at the Indian, and shot him dead on the spot. JOHN COULTER. 113 " This conduct, situated as he was, may appear to have been an act of madness, but it was doubtless the effect of sudden but sound reasoning; for, if taken ahve, he must have expected to be tortured to death, according to their custom. He was in- A PARTY OF INDIANS MADE THEIR APPEARANCE. stantly pierced with arrows so numerous, that, to use Coulter's words, ' He was made a riddle of. * They now seized Coulter, stripped him entirely naked, and began to consult on the man- ner in which he should be put to death. They were at first inclined to set him up as a mark to shoot at, but the chieT inter- 114 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. fered, and, seizing him by the shoulder, asked him if he could run fast. " Coulter, who had been some time among the Kee-katso, or Crow Indians, had in a considerable degree acquired the Black- foot language, and was also well acquainted with Indian customs; he knew that he now had to run for his life with the dreadful odds of five or six hundred against him, and those, armed Indians; he therefore cunningly replied that he was a very bad runner, although he was considered by the hunters as remarkably swift. The Chief now commanded the party to remain stationary, led Coulter out on the prairie three or four hundred yards, and released him, bidding him save himself if he could. At this instant the horrid war- whoop sounded in the ears of poor Coulter, who, urged with the hope of preserving life, ran with a speed at which he him- self was surprised. He proceeded towards the Jefferson Fork, having to trav- erse a plain six miles in breadth, abounding with the prickly pear, on which he was every instant treading with his naked feet. He ran nearly half the way across the plain before he ventured to look over his shoulder, when he perceived that the Indians were very much scattered, and that he had gained ground to a considerable distance from the main body; but one Indian, who carried a spear, was much before all the rest, and not more than one hundred yards from him. " A faint gleam of hope now cheered the heart of Coulter, and he derived confidence from the belief that escape was within the bounds of possibility; but that confidence was nearly fatal to him ; for he exerted himself to such a degree, that the blood gushed from his nostrils, and soon almost covered the forepart of his body. He had now arrived within a mile of the river, when he distinctly heard the appalling sound of footsteps be- hind him, and every instant expected to feel the spear of his JOHN COULTER. II5 pursuer. Again he turned his head, and saw the savage not twenty yards from him. " Determined, if possible, to avoid the expected blow, be suddenly stopped, turned around, and spread out his arms. The Indian, surprised by the suddenness of the action, and perhaps by the bloody appearance of Coulter, also attempted to stop; but, exhausted with running, he fell whilst endeavoring to throw his spear, which stuck in the ground and broke. Coulter instantly snatched up the pointed part, with which he pinned him to the earth, and then continued his flight. The foremost of the In- dians, on arriving at the place, stopped until the others came up to join them, when they set up a hideous yell. Every moment of this time was improved by Coulter, who, although fainting and exhausted, succeeded in gaining the skirting of Cotton-tree Wood, on the borders of the Fork, through which he ran and plunged into the river. " Fortunately for him, a little below this place was an island, against the upper part of which a raft of drift timber had lodged. He dived under the raft, and, after several efforts, got his head above water amongst the trunks of trees, covered over with smaller wood to the depth of several feet. Scarcely had he secured himself, when the Indians arrived at the river, screech- ing and yelling, as Coulter expressed it, * like so many devils.' They were frequently on the raft during the day, and were seen through the chinks by Coulter, who was congratulating himself on his escape, until the idea arose that they might set the raft on fire. In horrible suspense he remained until night, when, hearing no more of the Indians, he dived under the raft, and swam silently down the river to a considerable distance, where he landed and traveled all night. " Although happy in having escaped from the Indians, his situation was still dreadful; he was completely naked, under a burning sun — the soles of his feet were entirely filled with the Il6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. thorns of the prickly pear — he was hungry and had no means of kilh'ng game, although he saw abundance around him, and was at least seven-days' journey from Lisa's Fort, on the Big-Horn branch of the Yellowstone River. These were circumstances under which almost any man but an American hunter would have despaired. In seven days, however, during which he sub- sisted on a root much esteemed by the Indians of the Missouri, he arrived at the fort." XX. DANIEL BOONE. One of the very first settlers in Kentucky was Daniel Boone. A few years before the beginning of the American Revolution, Boone and five other bold men crossed the mountains from North Carolina, explored the country, and built a fort on the Kentucky River. It was a long, difficult and dangerous jour- ney, over steep mountains where there was no road and not even an Indian trail. For hundreds of miles they traveled westward over the mountains and through the Cumberland Gap, and one evening near sunset they reached the summit of the mountains. Before them was spread a beautiful expanse of country; near at hand it was hilly; further on it was irregular and rolling; but in the distance was a level region " over which the buffalo, deer and other wild animals roamed unmolested and fed on the luxuriant herbage of the forest." They made a camp in a small ravine with a high bank on either side. In this gorge of the mountain had fallen a large tree, which was completely surrounded with a dense thicket. This fallen tree made the back of their camp; logs and sticks formed the sides; and bark peeled from the trees the roof which sheltered them from the heavy dews. A huge fire before the open front kept off wild animals. From this camp they scoured the country and hunted the buffalo. They were not disturbed, for no Indians were then living in that portion of Kentucky. Later, Boone retraced his steps several hundred miles back to his old home, and then, for the third time, made this perilous i8 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. journey with his wife and children. He made his settlement in Kentucky at a place that was afterward called Boonesboro. During the entire Revolutionary War, Boone and his com- panions here defended themselves against the Indians, who frequently attacked them. At one time Boone and twenty-seven of his men were captured by a band of over one hundred Indians, who carried them away to Detroit. There the Indians accepted a ransom for all the prisoners except Boone. He was taken back with them to Chillicothe and was adopted by Blackfish, the chief, as his son. The ceremony of adoption was somewhat severe, though some features of it were really ludicrous. The hair of Boone's head was plucked out by a long and painful process, leaving only a tuft three or four inches in diameter on the top of his head. This tuft was allowed to grow for a " war-lock," and was dressed with feathers and ribbons. He was then taken to the river and washed and rubbed " to take all his white blood out." From the river he was led back to the council house, where the chief made a speech in which he showed how great honor had been conferred upon the captive. Boone's head and face were then painted in the most approved and fashionable style, and the cere- mony was concluded by a great feast and smoking the pipe. Boone wisely appeared reconciled to his new way of life. To avoid suspicion he pretended to be contented and happy with his new Indian friends, but secretly he was preparing to escape. The Indians carefully watched him. Whenever he left the vil- DANIEL BOONE. I 19 lage for hunting, the bullets for his gun were counted, and on his return he must give an account of every ball and charge of powder missing. Boone therefore divided the bullets, for he had observed that half a bullet would kill a turkey, a raccoon or a squirrel, as well as an entire ball. In like manner he used light charges of powder, and thus hiding them, contrived to save powder and ball for his own use if he should find a chance to escape. Several months after his capture he discovered that four hun- dred and fifty warriors were about to march upon his old home at Boonesboro. He learned all he could about their plans and their proposed route, and determined to get away from the In- dians, make his way to Boonesboro, and save his friends, though he knew that if he should be retaken death would surely follow. One night he quietly stole away and started on a journey of one hundred and sixty miles through a trackless forest. He was chased by four hundred and fifty Indians, but succeeded in elud- ing them, and after four days, during which he had but one meal, which was from a turkey he shot after crossing the Ohio River, he arrived at Boonesboro. He then learned that his wife, supposing she would never see him again, had returned with the children to her father's home in North Carolina. Under Boone's guidance the fort was quickly repaired, new gates were constructed, and before the Indians arrived every part was strengthened to stand a siege. Then the whole force of Indians and a company of Canadians, with British colors fly- ing, appeared before Boonesboro. The Indians were com- manded by the chief, Blackfish, and the Canadians by Captain Duquesne. Captain Duquesne summoned Boone" in the name of his Britannic Majesty to surrender the fort." There were only sixty men, besides the women and children, within the fort, but Boone would not surrender, preferring to fight to the death, even against such odds. Captain Duquesne I20 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. again summoned the fort to surrender, but Boone, from within the fort, announced that they would never surrender, adding: ** We laugh at your great preparations, but thank you for giving us notice and time to prepare for defense. Take our fort if you can, but you cannot." The siege went on. The Indians set the fort on fire. A heroic young man took his station on the roof, exposed to a shower of bullets, while others handed him buckets of water with which he extinguished the THE DEFENSE OF BOONESBORO. fire. The Indians and Canadians continued the siege for two weeks, but then they were obliged to depart and retrace their steps to the Indian country, to tell the story of their defeat. Thirty-seven of their number were killed and many more were wounded, while the loss of the Kentuckians was but two men killed and four wounded. The settlers of Kentucky were liable to sudden attacks from the Indians, in the fields, at their work, when at home in their cabins, or on journeys which they must now and then make. In DANIEL BOONE. 121 fact, the Indians were lurking everywhere, singly and in parties, looking for a chance to seize a prisoner, take a scalp, or butcher a whole company. Late one Sunday afternoon, just about the time the Declara- tion of Independence was passed in Philadelphia, three young girls from Boonesboro, Jemima, the daughter of Daniel Boone, and Elizabeth and Frances, daughters of Colonel Richard Calla- way, ventured out from the settlement to amuse themselves upon the river. As they were floating along in their canoe under the overhanging branches of a tree which grew upon the shore, an Indian, who had concealed himself in the branches, suddenly dropped into the canoe, seized a paddle, and quickly drove the canoe to the shore. Immediately he was joined by four others, and the girls were hurried off toward the Ohio River. Their screams had been heard at the fort, and some of the men ran down to the shore, only to find the empty canoe. They knew in a moment what had happened. Colonels Callaway and Boone were just then absent from home. They both returned that night, however, and quickly assembling a party for pursuit, placed themselves at the head and made a forced march after the Indians. The trail was easily followed, because the oldest of the girls had broken the twigs and bent the bushes as they passed, until she was threatened with the tomahawk if she did it any more. After that she tore small bits from her dress and dropped them by the way. The Indians exercised all caution in their flight. They marched in single file some yards apart, through the bushes and the cane, and in crossing a creek they waded in the shallow water to a considerable distance so as to leave no trace of their path. During the night, as they could not follow the trail, Boone and his companions were obliged to halt, but at early daylight the pursuit was renewed. On the third day they saw 122 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. a light bit of smoke rising a little distance in advance of them. The Indians were cooking their breakfast of buffalo meat. This was the critical moment. They must approach cautiously, fearing that if they were discovered the Indians might slay their captives and escape. Colonel John Floyd was one of the party in pursuit, and we have his description of the attack and the rescue. " Our study had been how to get the prisoners without giving the Indians time to murder them after they discovered us. Four of us fired, and all of us rushed on them, by which they were prevented from carrying away anything except one shot- gun without any ammunition. Colonel Boone and myself had each a pretty fair shot as they began to move off. I am well con- vinced that I shot one through the body. The one shot by Boone dropped his gun ; mine had none. The place was covered with thick cane, and being so much elated on recover- ing the three poor little heart-broken girls, we were prevented from making any further search. We sent the Indians off almost naked, some without their moccasins, and not one of them with so much as a knife or a tomahawk. " After the girls came to themselves sufficiently to speak, they told us there were five Indians, four Shawnese and one Chero- kee ; they could speak good English, and said they should go to the Shawnese towns. The war-club we got was like those I have seen of that nation, and several words of their language which the girls retained, were known to be Shawanese. " The return of the girls to the fort was an occasion for great rejoicing. " True courage consists, not in rash and brutal force, but in that command of the passions by which the judgment is enabled to act with promptitude and decision in any emergency." This true courage was shown by Colonel Boone on one occasion when he came near being captured by four Indians. Boone himself related the story at the wedding of a granddaughter a DANIEL BOONE. I23 few months before his death. He had raised a small quantity of tobacco to supply his neighbors, for Boone himself never used it. He had placed the stalks of tobacco in three tiers on a shed made of rails ten or twelve feet in height. The lower tier of poles had been covered, and the tobacco was thoroughly dried, when one day he entered the shed to remove this dry tobacco to the upper tier. While he was standing on the rails some dis- tance from the ground, four stout Indians with guns entered the low door and called him by name. "Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away any more. We carry you off Chillicothe this time. You no cheat us any more." Boone coolly looked down upon the upturned faces and rec- ognized some of his old friends, the Shawnees, who had made him prisoner years before. With the utmost coolness Boone responded : " Ah, old friends, glad to see you." He told them that he was quite willing to go with them, and asked them to wait a moment while he finished removing his tobacco. Then he began to inquire after his old acquaintances, and said that he would give them this tobacco to take along with them. Meantime he had collected together a number of stalks of dry tobacco, and turned them in such a way that they would fall between the rails directly in the faces of the four Indians. At the same instant that the stalks dropped he jumped upon them with as much of the dry tobacco as he could gather in his arms, filling their mouths and eyes with the pungent dust, and so blinding them that they could not follow him. In great haste he rushed out and ran to his cabin, where he had ample means for defense. It was a nar- row escape, but he could not resist the temptation, when he was fifteen or twenty rods away, to look back and laugh at the In- dians, who, blinded and nearly suffocated, were stretching out their hands and feeling about in different directions and cursing 124 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. him for a rogue and themselves for fools. The old man in tell- ing the story imitated their gestures and tones of voice with great glee. Daniel Boone was " mild, humane and charitable; his man- ners were gentle, his address conciliating, and his heart open to friendship and hospitality. The most prominent traits in his character were self-command and unshaken fortitude. He acquired the habit of contemplation, and was a great admirer of nature." In his old age one who had known him well spoke of him as " a person just and upright, in whose heart is the seat of virtue; a man too pure to admit a thought base or dishonor- able. I have ever found him a noble and generous soul, despis- ing everything mean." XXI. ANDREW ELLICOTT. Andrew Ellicott is almost unknown to the mass of our people. The story of his life, however, reads like a romance. He was the son of a good Quaker in Bucks County, Pennsyl- vania, where he was born almost one hundred and fifty years ago. His father, a few years before the beginning of the Ameri- can Revolution, bought a large tract of wild land on the Patapsco River, not far from Baltimore, and founded the town of EUi- cott's Mills, now Ellicott City. Andrew was sixteen years old when his father migrated from Pennsylvania to Maryland. Later he became a land surveyor, served as an ofificer in the Revolu- tion, and after the war was distinguished for his knowledge of science and practical mechanics. He was a close and intimate friend of Washington and Frank- lin ; was employed at various times as commissioner to run the boundaries of Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York; and after Washington became President, was appointed by him to survey that part of Pennsylvania lying upon Lake Erie. In 1 791, Con- gress passed an act locating the capital of the country on the Potomac River. The city was planned by Washington and a French engineer. Major L'Enfant, but the principal work in its lay-out and survey was done by Ellicott. President Washing- ton himself fixed the position of the principal buildings, but the entire city, with its squares, circles and triangles, and its broad avenues crossing the right-angled streets in various direc- tions, was the work of Ellicott. At the time when Washington was President the Florida 126 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. country lying south of the United States was owned by Spain. The province of Florida extended the whole distance from the Atlantic Ocean to the Mississippi River, but the boundary had never been accurately determined. Much of the land was swampy, and the most of it was a wilderness, but settlements were increasing, and it was necessary that each nation should know just how much and how far it owned. Con- sequently a commission was appointed, consisting of a member from the United States and a member from Spain, which should survey and fix the boundary and thus ward off future disputes be- tween the two countries. An- drew Ellicott was selected to represent the United States. Ellicott was in Philadelphia when he received his commis- sion. He immediately made preparations for his absence, and by the middle of Septem- ber was ready to set out on his journey across valleys and mountains to Pittsburg. There he purchased his boats, supplies and instruments, hired his assistants and obtained his military escort. His undertaking was a most difficult one in the sparsely populated country, with no help from railroads or steamboats or large storehouses, but Ellicott reached Natchez on the lower Mississippi with his part of the outfit complete in a little over five months from the day he left Philadelphia. ANDREW ELLICOTT. I27 At Natchez ElHcott expected to meet the Spanish commis- sioner, Governor Gayoso, of New Orleans, but he was not there. Again and again the governor would set the time for beginning to run the line, but each time the day arrived and the gov- ernor failed to make his appearance. A year of these vexatious delays went by, and at last Ellicott wrote to Gayoso that he should commence the work on the loth of April, and the com- missioner, if he was not there, must accept his work. Perhaps this firm message hastened him, but still nearly two months went by before Gayoso and his assistants joined the American commissioner. Delays, however, were not yet at an end. The way was found to pass through numerous swamps and dense forests with undergrowth so thick that a path had to be cut with axes. Evi- dently Governor Gayoso found his work too difficult, for he went back to New Orleans. He left as his representatives William Dunbar and Captain Miner, but he did not sign the necessary certificates that would make legal the work already done. Con- sequently Ellicott journeyed to- New Orleans, got the governor's signature, and with fresh supplies returned to his work. During the spring and summer he was exceedingly troubled by the Creek Indians, and it was with difificulty that he reached the Chattahoochee River in August. To this point the boundary was run on the 31st parallel; then, after following down the river to its junction with the Flint, it was to be a straight line to the source of the St. Mary's River, thence following the St. Mary's to the ocean. Now came a new difficulty. The Seminole Indians, who oc- cupied the country through which the line was to pass, would not permit Ellicott to go through their territory. All efforts to run the line from this point were, therefore, unavailing. What was to be done ? Ellicott was not the man to back out. He had undertaken to run this line; he had found the latitude and AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. longitude of the starting-point, on the FHnt River, and he was determined to know its direction and the latitude and longitude of the St. Mary's River. He finally decided that if he could not go through this coun- try he would go around it and work up from the Atlantic side to the headwaters of the St. Mary's. Having these two extreme points fixed, it would be an easy matter at any subsequent time to run the line. In order to carry out this plan EUicott pur- chased a schooner and put in the necessary supplies for the voy- age around Florida to the St. Mary's River. Everything being in readiness, he weighed anchor and set sail, but he had no seamen on board except two illiterate sailors. He was not an experienced sailor himself, none of his men were sailors, and none of them had ever been over this route before. Here, then, was a novel spectacle of a company of land surveyors undertaking to navi- gate a schooner through the Gulf of Mexico, past the coral reefs, and out into the Atlantic Ocean. Nevertheless this brave American gave orders to set sail, and they started on their course. When they were well down the Appalachicola River and about to launch out into the Gulf, they opened a barrel of beef and found that it was tainted. They had not a pound of meat on board fit to eat. Some of the men immediately demanded that the vessel be put about and that ELLICOTT S ROUTE. ANDREW ELLICOTT. 129 they go back and obtain more meat. " No," said Ellicott, " we do not go back, we go forward. You shall have no meat. Catch fish." He knew that they had a plentiful supply of bread and flour and would not starve. So forward they went; they passed Cape Sable and reached the Atlantic Ocean in safety, though they encountered violent gales and were in great danger from the reefs. It should be observed that just at that time the United States was practically at war with France. True, war had not been .LICOTT SPIED A VESSEL IN THE DISTANCE. declared, and it was finally avoided, but the relations between the two countries were so strained that French privateers had been commissioned to prey upon our commerce. One day when Ellicott was sailing along the east coast of Florida, he spied a vessel in the distance which he took to be a French privateer. He immediately gave orders to get out the ship's swivel gun, put on all sail and prepare to attack this vessel. Coming near he inquired, ** What vessel is this?" The reply was, " It is a prize." The stranger lowered a boat, as if to send it over to EUicott's vessel, but soon the boat returned to the sloop and she set sail and bore away. Ellicott now began to wonder if this was an American vessel 130 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. taken by a French privateer. " If it is," he thought, " I beh'eve 1 can capture it." Being the faster sailer he gained upon the stranger, and on coming up to her he fired a shot across her bows and ordered her to come to. The vessel obeyed, and her master brought his papers aboard Ellicott's schooner; she proved to be a Spanish ship which had been captured by a New Provi- dence privateer. Ellicott then made his apologies and set her at liberty. Soon afterward they were overtaken by another New Provi- dence privateer. Captain William Ball, and ordered to heave to. As he could not capture the ship, Ellicott obeyed orders, and Captain Ball came on board and insolently demanded the ship's papers. He examined Ellicott's commission and instructions with the signature of George Washington, President of the United States. This document the captain handled with all attention and veneration, as if it had been a holy relic. He then made his apologies to Mr. Ellicott and, as a compensation for his insolence, presented him with a fine turtle, and wished him a successful voyage. Ellicott and his party reached the St. Mary's the second week in December, proceeded up the river, found its source, took the exact latitude and longitude, and erected a mound, called Elli- cott's Mound, which remains to this day. The survey being finished, Ellicott sailed away toward the north and reached Philadelphia on the evening of the 17th of May. He had been away from his home three years and eight months. Forty years or more ago, a joint commission of the United States and Great Britain surveyed our northern boundary line from the Lake of the Woods to the top of the Rocky Moun- tains, but their work was as child's play compared with the hardships of the Spanish Boundary Commission. The commis- sioners on our northern frontier completed their work in two summers with the winter intervening, but the Florida boundary ANDREW ELLICOTT. I3I occupied Mr. Ellicott twice as long, though the distance was only about one-half so great. Governor McKean of Pennsylvania afterward appointed Ellicott secretary of the Pennsylvania Land Office, a position which he held several years. During the last eight years of his life he was professor of mathematics at the Military Academy at West Point, where he died in 1820, being sixty-six years of age. XXII. ELISHA KENT KANE. Ever since the days of Columbus the great desire of Euro- pean merchants and sailors has been to find some direct way of reaching Asia and China by sailing west across the Atlantic Ocean. After they discovered that a great continent was in their way, they continued to search every bay and inlet in the hope that a passage through to the Pacific could be found. Even when all these attempts failed, expedition after expe- dition was sent out to seek a way around North America. In time such a passage was found, but, being frozen the greater part of the year, it was useless for trade and commerce. Many lives have been lost and terrible suffering has been endured in this fruitless search to find the " northwest pas- sage." Even the additional knowledge of the shape and con- dition of land and sea in these distant portions of the earth's surface can hardly pay for all the sorrows and anxieties that it has cost. Sir John Franklin, an Englishman, was the one who proved beyond doubt that land did not extend to the north pole, but he lost his life and the lives of all his crew in proving it. When time went by and his ship did not return, vessels were sent to search for him. Though they returned unsuccessful, Franklin's brave wife would not give up hope. She appealed not alone to Englishmen but to Americans not to leave her husband to die in the frozen north. In 1850 a kind-hearted American, Mr. Grinnell, fitted out two strong vessels, which the United States Government accepted and manned with ofificers and men from ELISHA KENT KANE. 133 the navy. Among those who volunteered to go on this difficult journey was Dr. Kane. Elisha Kent Kane was never happier than when engaged in <^. .A^^c^<:^ some desperate adventure. As a boy he was always doing what other boys could not do ; he could climb like a cat, and knew not what fear meant. Consequently he earned in his neighborhood the character of "a bad boy." People could not understand a 134 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. boy who, when a schoolmaster was about to punish a younger brother, jumped up with the cry, " Don't whip him, he's such a Httle fellow — whip me." Elisha wished to protect one who was younger and weaker than himself; but the teacher thought it insubordination, and the result was that both boys were soundly whipped. The same spirit of generosity led Elisha in after life to respond quickly to a call for help. An interesting story of one of his boyish feats shows how carefully he thought out every step of even the wildest adven- ture. At his home in Philadelphia the kitchen ell was much lower than the rest of the house. Consequently, as the chimney would not draw, it had been built up to the levgl of the higher roof. This tall chimney greatly fascinated Elisha. He deter- mined that in some way he would reach the top, and one moon- light night, when everybody was asleep, he and a younger brother slid down the roof of the front building to that of the kitchen. Here they found the clothesline with a stone securely tied to one end, which Elisha had carefully hidden away the day before. ** What is the stone for, Elisha? " asked his brother. ** Why, you see, Tom, the stone is a dipsey. I call it a dipsey because I am going to throw it into the flue, so that it will run down into the old furnace, carrying the line down with it, and then I can slip down and fasten it there. Now for a heave. The chimney top is almost too high for me. It is pretty near twenty feet, I should think, but I'll do it." It took many throws before success came, but at last the stone went rattling down the flue. Then, after the lower end of the rope had been securely fastened at the bottom of the chimney, Tom held tightly to the other end while Elisha climbed up to the top. The chimney was built on the outside of the gable, and was forty or fifty feet from the ground; the loose bricks at the top fell, but Elisha kept on until, getting his arm ELISHA KENT KANE. 1 35 over the edge, he carefully pulled his body up and seated him- self at the top. " Oh, Tom, what a nice place this is! " he cried. " I'll get down into the flue to my waist and pull you up, too. Just make a loop in the rope and I'll haul you in. Don't be afraid — it is so grand up here." But Elisha's strength was not equal to his willingness to give his brother the same outlook, and Tom was not able to climb alone. When Elisha was satisfied with his nearer view of the stars, he slid down the rope and went back to bed and to sleep, happy because he had succeeded. Dr. Kane was in the Gulf of Mexico when a message reached him from the Naval Department at Washington to " proceed forthwith to New York, for duty upon the Arctic expedition." He set out immediately, and traveling with all speed reached New York forty hours before the vessels sailed. They were in command of Lieutenant De Haven, and Kane was the senior surgeon of the expedition. De Haven had never met his phy- sician, though Kane had served in the navy for several years. He was slight and delicate, and, as far as outside appearance went, hardly fitted for the hardships of an arctic voyage. De Haven was so disappointed that if there had been time he would have asked to have Kane exchanged for a stronger man. As soon as the ships set out to sea Dr. Kane became seasick and did not recover for many days. When Greenland was reached De Haven suggested that he had better return home. The doctor looked at him a moment in almost blank dismay, and then announced firmly, " I won't do it." In two-weeks' time he was the busiest man on board the two vessels, and De Haven soon appreciated and acknowedged his bravery and ability. The expedition was gone sixteen months and returned un- successful. No trace of Sir John Franklin had been found, but ELISIIA KENT KANE. 137 Dr. Kane was unwilling to give up the search. " I think of them ever with hope," he wrote. " I sicken by not being able to reach them." Two years later another vessel was fitted out, and this time Dr. Kane himself was in command. The rules that Kane made for his crew were very simple: " to obey absolutely the commanding ofificers, to use no profane language, and to abstain from all intoxicating liquors." This last rule was found to be especially necessary, and has been con- firmed by Lieutenant Greely, v/ho commanded a later expe- dition to the Arctic Sea. He found that the men who did not use strong drinks could endure more and suffered less than those who did. At the end of thirty months Kane and his crew returned to New York with the party that had been sent out to search for them. Their sufferings had been terrible. Their vessel, the Advance, had been frozen into the ice for two winters, food nearly gave out, and the beams of the ship had to be cut away to burn for fuel. At times every member of the party had been seriously sick with scurvy; three had died, and many had lost fingers or toes from freezing. Just before Christmas in their second winter, the fuel became so low that they were obliged to use an Eskimo lamp to cook their food. The odor of the oil was so offensive that these lamps could not be kept in the cabin, and one day, when the watch deserted his duty, a fire was found in the cook room. Eight of the men were sick in their bunks unable to rise; the thermometer was 46" below zero and the only water that could be had must be melted drop by drop. Somehow the fire was put out, and with thankful hearts they celebrated Christmas Day. ''We passed around merrily our turkeys, roast and boiled, roast beef, onions, potatoes and cucumbers, watermelons and other cravings of the scurvy-sickened palate, with entire exclu- sion of the fact that each one of these was variously represented 138 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. by pork and beans. . . . What portion of its mirth was genuine with the rest I cannot tell, for we are practiced actors, some of us; but there was no heart in my share of it," wrote Dr. Kane. Whether his heart was heavy or not, Dr. Kane bravely kept his discouragements to himself. Finally, perceiving that the brig was so firmly frozen into the ice that there could be no possible hope of getting her into open water again, he deter- mined to abandon her and to set out for home over the ice. It might be his duty to stay by the brig, but he had no right to expose his men to the sufferings of another winter. Carefully he made his plans, and then on sledges and in open boats they made a long journey of thirteen hundred miles back to Green- land, where they were met by the rescue party. "There, now, we have had all our hard work for nothing," cried one of the crew, who had once kept at the oars for twenty- two hours. " What," said Dr. Kane, " are you sorry that we owe our deliverance to our own exertions? " Though the men did their share, it was Dr. Kane's exertions and not theirs that saved the expedition. His cheerfulness kept up their spirits when they were discouraged; his gentleness and unselfishness protected them when they were sick; his firmness kept them moving when they were ready to sink from fatigue. Though he had failed again to find Sir John Franklin, he had won lasting honors by his perseverance and self-sacrifice. XXIII. TWO BRASS KETTLES. What a hard time the early settlers of New England did have ! The forests which covered the country must be cut down and the stumps dug out before the land could be prepared for cultivation. Houses built of rough-hewed logs had but one room and were inconvenient and hardly fit to live in. The means for cooking were most primitive, and food must neces- sarily be of the simplest kind. There were no grocery or dry- goods stores, no blacksmiths' or shoemakers' shops, no factories for the weaving of cloth. The winters were exceedingly cold and the summers correspondingly hot. Added to all these hardships, was the constant fear of hostile Indians. It was difficult to keep peaceful relations between the civilized white man and the red man of the forest. Misunder- standings were frequent, and wrongs were perpetrated on both sides. The Indians were suspicious and treacherous, and even those who wished to live in friendship with them found it diffi- cult to keep the peace. The Indians constantly observed the habits of the English, and seized upon the most favorable times for their attacks. Frequently the rude dwellings of the settlers were set on fire during the night and, when the family fled for their lives, they were shot down by the arrows of an unseen foe. The utmost watchfulness was required, and the constant danger made the settlers not only cautious, but skillful in means for their own protection. A singular story is told of a young woman in Dorchester, Massachusetts, and how she saved herself and two children from I40 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. a hostile Indian. It was on a Sunday, late in the forenoon. An Indian had been lurking about the neighborhood ; he evidently knew that the family had gone to church. Whoever was left behind to care for the two little children would be at his mercy. He crept up stealthily toward the house, but the watchful eye of the nurse was on the lookout. The two little ones were at THE ENEMY WAS JUST RAISING THE WINDOW SASH. play upon the floor. Two brass kettles were standing empty near the fireplace. Quick as a flash the nurse turned one kettle bottom upward over one child and the other over the other child, and cautioned them not to make any noise, or the Indian would catch them and carry them off. By this time the enemy had reached the house and was just raising the window sash preparatory to springing into the room, when, with wonderful TWO BRASS KETTLES. I4I quickness, the woman picked up the shovel lying upon the hearth, filled it with live coals, and threw them with all force into the Indian's face. Blinded and suffering extreme torture from the burning coals, he fled from the house and was seen no more in the neighborhood. The young woman then released the children from their prison houses, took down the trusty fire- lock from its hooks on the wall, and passed the time until the family arrived from church in watching for the return of the Indian. Great was the surprise of the family on their return, to learn what had happened. We may imagine the conversation which ensued ; how quickly and rapidly the woman told them the story; what questions the mother asked; how she hugged her darling children to her breast in gratitude for their safe deliver- ance. We may suppose that the young woman added: " I was not so much troubled for myself as for the children. I feared the old savage would carry them off with him to his wig- wam in the forest, and we should see them no more. My first thought was to put them out of his sight. Having accomplished that, and knowing that I should not have time to seize the musket to fire at him, I flung the hot coals in his face. After- wards I was almost disappointed that he did not return, for had he done so I am sure the old musket would have ended his life." Let us be thankful that we do not live in such troublous times or have to undergo such hardships as befell our forefathers who first settled our beautiful country. XXIV. LUCY GOODELL BLAKE. It was in the winter of the year 1821. Mr. Harrison G. Blake set out on the 19th of December from Salem, New York, with his wife and one child about fourteen months old, to visit his parents in Marlboro, Vermont. They traveled in a sleigh with one horse, and stopped for the night at a tavern in the town of Arlington at the foot of the Green Mountains. The next day they continued on their journey in good spirits, for the snow was only about six inches deep, the landlord had told them that the road was good, and that they would have no dif- ficulty in getting across the mountains. Being thus assured, they began the ascent, but after going two or three miles they came to the end of any trodden road. The snow here was about three feet deep. Still they continued to make the best of their way forward, until their horse became so fatigued that they had to leave the sleigh. Mrs. Blake and the baby pro- ceeded on horseback, with Mr. Blake traveling on foot by their side. Finally the strength of the horse was utterly exhausted, and he would go no farther. The case was now desperate, but they could not remain where they were in the storm and the deep snow. The weather was extremely cold, and they were liable to freeze to death. Nothing remained for them then but to walk, but this was very difficult. When it seemed that Mrs. Blake could go no farther, her husband went forward alone in search of help. They agreed to answer each other by loud calls as long as they could be heard. LUCY GOODELL BLAKE. 143 The darkness of the night had gathered around them, and they were in the middle of a gloomy forest which was nine miles in extent. Mr. Blake had given his warm mittens to his wife and had wrapped his overcoat around her and the child. Under these circumstances Jack Frost was playing havoc with him faster than he knew. His feet and legs refused to obey his " MRS. BLAKE AND THE BABY PROCEEDED ON HORSEBACK." will; his fingers were numb, and he could not tell what the matter was, but by striking his hands against a tree he found that they were frozen. Still he went on until he was so ex- hausted that he could not walk, and even then he tried to crawl forward by laying a stick before him and drawing himself for- ward to it. Soon he found himself utterly unable to move. He and his wife were still within call, and she asked him if he was likely to obtain help. He replied that he could get no farther. 144 ame!rican heroes and heroism. Thereupon she answered that she would come to him and they would die together, but the snow was so deep that she could not reach him. They both continued to call for help, and at last their outcries were heard by people at the nearest house. It happened that a Mr. Richardson had gone over the moun- tain and was expected back, but had not returned. Mr. Rich- ardson's son, learning that cries had been heard in the forest, started out at eleven o'clock at night on the 20th of December, hoping to find his father, who he supposed was the one in dis- tress. He did not find his father, but he came upon Mr. Blake, who by that time was senseless, with hands and feet badly frozen. The young man rubbed the frozen limbs, gave him some spirits which he had brought with him, took him up and carried him to the nearest house. When Mr. Blake had so far recovered as to be able to say that his wife and child were still on the mountain, Mr. Richard- son with one other man started to find them. Mrs. Blake was discovered about forty rods beyond the place where her husband had been found, but it was too late to save her life. The rescuers pushed onward, searching for the child, and found it, under the snow, about one hundred and fifty rods farther. The mother had wrapped the child in her own cloak, the father's overcoat, and the blanket that had been taken from the sleigh. When the babe was lifted out of the snow it awakened from its quiet sleep and looked up to its rescuers with a smile. Mrs. Blake had done all that the mother instinct could do to save the life of her child. She had died, but the child and the father lived. The family afterward moved to Ohio, where the little girl, thus saved from death by freezing, at the cost of the mother's life, lived .to a good old age and died in the city of Cleveland a few years ago. She had a brother two years older than herself, who was named after his father, Harrison Gray Blake. This LUCY GOODELL BLAKE. 145 brother came to be a well-known public man in Ohio. He served that State two years in the House of Representatives, was Speaker of the House, and was twice elected to the State Senate before he was thirty years of age. He was twice elected to Congress, and, as a member of the Committee on Post-offices, he framed and secured the passage of a bill which gave to the country the present post-office money-order system. He served in the Union army during the Civil War, and at one time was Colonel of the i66th Ohio regiment. After the war he was again and again chosen mayor of Medina. The bravery of this heroic mother was many years ago made the subject of the following poem by Seba Smith, of Maine, well known as the author of the " Major Jack Downing Let- ters." It was originally published in the ** Eastern Argus," Portland, Maine. THE SNOWSTORM. The cold winds swept the mountain height, And pathless was the dreary wild. And 'mid the cheerless hours of night A mother wandered with her child; As through the drifted snows she pressed. The babe was sleeping on her breast. And colder still the winds did blow, And darker hours of night came on, And deeper grew the drifts of snow — Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone; " O God ! " she cried in accents wild, *' If I must perish, save my child ! " She stripped her mantle from her breast. And bared her bosom to the storm. 146 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. As round the child she wrapped the vest And smiled to think her babe was warm. With one cold kiss one tear she shed, And sank upon a snowy bed. At dawn a traveler passed by ; She lay beneath a snowy veil — The frost of death was in her eye — Her cheek was cold, and hard, and pale. He moved the robe from off the child — The babe looked up and sweetly smiled. I XXV. PAUL L. FISCHER. ** Fire! Fire! Fire! " rang out from the basement of the Melrose Flats. " Fire! Fire! " echoed from the second story. *' Fire! Fire! Fire!" came in shrieks from all parts of the great six-story structure. ** Melrose Flats is on fire " was announced in the neighbor- ing Drexel Theater, and five hundred spectators hastened to the spot. " Melrose Flats is on fire " came the telephone message to the fire department, and the firemen were on their way to the scene before the alarm was rung in. " Melrose Flats is on fire" brought Sergeant Murphy and a squad of policemen to the burning building in quick time. Yes, surely, Melrose Flats was on fire. The smoke was pouring out of the first-story windows. The flames were leap- ing up the ventilator-shaft. The hallways were rapidly filling with smoke. Soon passage through them would be impossible. What of the tenants in this fated building? What hope of escape from the flames had the fifty families occupying Melrose Flats? Those who lived on the first floor could escape by the doors and windows without harm. The second-story tenants could rush through the smoke and escape if they did not spend too long a time gathering their precious possessions. But what of the others? The policemen rushed up the stairs. When they m.et any of the inmates they turned and, pushing and shoving, hastened them to the street. They dashed into the rooms in the second 148 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. story and dragged out those whom they found still packing or too frightened to run. The fire was rushing on, and smoke was fast rendering the hall impassable. The policemen cleared the third floor and helped down the tenants of the fourth. But there were two stories higher yet. What " DOWN THROUGH THE SMOKE THE ELEVATOR RUSHES. hope for those frightened people in the upper part of the building? Ah! but see! The elevator is rising! It reaches the top floor. 'Elevator! Elevator!" The voice of Paul Fischer, the elevator-boy, rings out above all other sounds, and a panic- PAUL L. FISCHER. I49 stricken crowd quickly gathers. In an instant the elevator is filled, and down through the smoke it rushes to the ground floor. It is quickly emptied, and then up again goes Fischer. Day after day he has run the elevator up and down, and why not now? But suppose that in passing through the smoke it should overpower and suffocate him? Suppose that the fearful flames should seize the shaft and cut off all escape? No matter. His duty is to run the elevator; and again his ringing call brings the tenants of the upper floor to the lift. Down the shaft and up again rushes the elevator. Blackened by smoke and choking, Fischer still remains at his post. A fourth time the car brings down in safety its load of passengers. A fifth and a sixth trip follow, and still there are tenants who have not escaped. The smoke is suffocating in the elevator-shaft, but Fischer rushes the lift up again and brings down the precious freight. An eighth and a ninth trip are made, and still a few are left on the fifth floor. Now Fischer asks himself, " Can I do it again? No! Yes, I can try." Blinded, breathing with difficulty, wearied by the strain, he again opens the elevator door at the top of the building. With a voice very unlike the first clear call, he shouts hoarsely, " Last trip! " A minute only, and the last load is safely down. But what a minute ! Gasping and staggering out of the elevator, the passengers would then and there have perished had not the police been at hand to help them to the street. This one trip was terrible to the passengers. It was even more trying to the elevator-boy, for it was his tenth, after nine others each more fearful than the one before. For them it was a possible escape from death. For him it was going to probable destruction. For them it was each one for himself. For him it was others first, self last. 150 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. His brief account of his daring was; " When I got a load I shot the car down to the first floor and went up for another. It seemed as if I had been working that way for hours, when the thick, black smoke poured into the shaft and suffocated me. After that I had to give it up, and I skipped out." Paul Fischer was not only brave but modest. XXVI. BILLY MAHEW. Nearly every one has heard the story of the little Dutch boy who, returning from his grandmother's, heard water gurgling through the dike. This sound will send terror to the stoutest heart, for unless the leak can be stopped at once it means death for many, and the destruction of valuable property which long years of struggle have rescued from the sea. Even the children know its meaning and the necessity for immediate action. This little fellow did not run for help; he dared not waste time. Failing to find anything to force into the opening, he placed his own hand there and held it in position the whole night through. When morning came he was found nearly dead from cold, but Haarlem and the lives of thousands had been saved. All justly applaud the courage and persistency of the " Hero of Haarlem," and the story is carried down from father to son and from son to grandson ; but often in our admiration for that which has happened years ago we take no notice of, or we for- get, similar acts of self-forgetfulness that are done in our own land and our own time. A few years age a lad, Billy Mahew, living in the Pine Ridge region of western Virginia, went up one morning to the thickly wooded hillside to chop wood. He was a hard-working boy, and an interested helper in his humble home. So when night came and he did not return his friendsgrew anxious, and a party was organized to search the mountains. When the lad was found it was too late to save his life, but not too late to save the village, Billy Mahew also had saved a whole community. 1 152 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. Far up the valley the inhabitants had built a high dam across the stream. This dam, reaching from slope to slope of two mountains, formed a huge reservoir from which the water was carried down to the houses below. Heavy rains had filled the reservoir to overflowing, and the great pressure of water had weakened the dam. At its base a large stone had been forced out, and a dangerous leak had been started. Evidently Billy had discovered this leak early in the morn- ing. He thought no more of his wood-chopping ;he directed every ef- fort to stopping immediately the flow of water, lest the whole dam should give way, and the immense voluiyieof the pent- up stream should go rushing down the valley, carry- ing everything be- fore it. Without doubt he shouted with all the force of his strong lungs, but only the echoing mountains sent back a reply. Whatever could be done he must do himself. He rolled up stones to keep the slipping boulder in its place, but they made an ins^ufificient prop. Then, as a last resort, he placed his own body against the stones. The hours went by, and no one came along from the valley below. Billy grew weaker and weaker, and little by little the water began to wash over him as the stone slowly slipped from its place. He could not help knowing that unless assistance came quickly.the mighty "--^^" m'-t¥ HE PLACED HIS OWN BODY AGAINST THE STONES. BILLY MAHEW. 1 53 power above would overcome his feeble resistance, but he re- mained at his post. When he was found, the water was rushing over his face, and his body was stiff in death. All night the men worked with desperate energy to strengthen the dam and save their homes, yet they ever felt that their pres- ervation was due to Billy Mahew and not to themselves. They buried him on the mountain side close by the great reservoir, which is his only monument, but though few others know of his heroism, he is not forgotten by the people whose homes and families he saved. Every year his lonely grave is heaped with flowers, and although he did not fall in battle either on land or sea. Union and Confederate veterans place each Decoration Day the stars and stripes and the stars and bars above his resting- place. XXVII. GEORGE E. WARING, JR. It is practically a modern idea that dirt and disease go together. In the olden time people walked over floors that were covered with rushes matted with grease and crumbs thrown from the table. Refuse heaps decorated the front entrances of their houses, and mud and stagnant pools of water filled the streets. When odors became unendurable spices were burned to cover them. When terrible epidemics carried off thousands of citizens they were considered a sign of God's wrath. No one thought of connecting the disease with the filth by which the rich and poor alike were surrounded. As years went by it became unfashionable to throw food and bones under the table; refuse heaps were at least banished to the back yards; carpets took the place of rushes, and streets were sometimes cleaned. But these changes were due more to a higher sense of the fitness of things, to the more luxurious mode of living and the dislike of the gallants to soil their dainty foot-wear, than to the discovery of the causes of sick- ness. It was left for the people of the nineteenth century to learn that it is impossible to have health without cleanliness — without clean bodies, clean homes, clean yards, clean streets, and clean sewers. They also learned that it is less expensive to prevent than to cure disease, and easier to discover and remove the causes of a plague than to stamp it out when once it has begun its work. Old, rickety tenement-houses, foul with accumula- tions of filth, were torn down ; proper systems of sewers were GEORGE E. WARING, JR. 155 built to carry off under ground the liquid waste of cities and vil- lages; other refuse matter was destroyed or put to use; and parks were laid out, not only to beautify, but to let in fresh air and sunlight. Cities began to boast of their cleanliness, and to vie with one another in lowering the death-rate. But New York, our largest city, which ought to set the standard, was a disgrace not only to its own inhabitants but to the whole country. It had the proper machinery in abundance — health boards, street and sewer commissioners, and vari- ous other means; but the officers were appointed because they had influence and not because they were efficient. Therefore they were more interested in helping themselves than in improving the condition of the citizens. The city had been dirty so long that the people thought it must always be dirty. " New York is different from other cities," some used to say; " other cities may be kept clean, but New York cannot." The reason for this was not clear, but is, must be," seemed to be the general opinion. In 1895 a new administration was inaugurated, pledged to reform certain conditions that had become unbearable. Among the many officials the mayor appointed a new street commis- sioner, Colonel George E. Waring, Jr. He had had great ex- perience as a sanitary engineer, and had changed many places from pest-holes to healthful communities. No better man could COLONEL GEORGE E. WARING, JR. what 156 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. have been found for the place than he, " the apostle of cleanli- ness, the scourge of dirt." His position was not an easy one, and many would have been discouraged at the outset. His friends told him that it was a shame for a man with his genius to waste his talents and services on a political job; newspapers and politicians opposed to the new administration abused him; and the men employed in the street department distrusted him and warned one another to " look out for his tricks." Few men have undertaken a work under more hostile conditions, and Colonel Waring showed the highest kind of courage and persistency in standing at his post. He thoroughly believed that the reason why cities were misgov- erned was because men of ability and honesty were unwilling to do their duty and devote themselves to the public good. He paid no attention to the censures and reproaches of foes and friends, and having faith in his ability to lead men, he set to work. He simply asked of the mayor that he be let alone and be allowed to have his own way. The public ridiculed the thousands of men in the employ of the street department. Knowing that their work was thought to be degrading, they had lost their self-respect, and did their work carelessly. Colonel Waring's first duty was to arouse their enthusiasm and to make them efficient. Then the public would be forced to respect them, for any work well done is respectable, no matter how lowly it may be. It is only poor work and a poor workman that should be held in contempt. He early let the men know that no one should lose his posi- tion except for poor work. It made no difference whether a man was a Republican or a Democrat, or had no political beliefs at all; if he did good work he could stay, if poor he must go. Colonel Waring next provided the men with good tools. Stables were cleaned, carts were painted, harnesses were black- f GEORGE E. WARING, JRo I57 ened and kept in repair; horses were groomed; new appliances were bought ; new methods were inaugurated. But when one day the men appeared in white duck suits New York laughed in derision. " Waring has gone crazy," said one. ** He must be a crank," said another. ** The idea! dressing a street-cleaner in a white suit! How long will he keep it clean? " said a third. Colonel Waring said nothing, and people acknowledged his wis- dom in time. A white suit was out of place in a dirty street. The men must keep their suits clean, and therefore they must keep the streets clean also. People began to respect them and they respected themselves. They held up their heads and walked erect. They used their brooms with a will. As Colonel Waring said, there was a man at the other end of the broom handle, not merely a voter. The impossible began to appear possible. The streets be- came clear of dirt in dry weather and of slime in wet. Rubbish was collected and disposed of; the carts and drays which at night and on Sundays blocked most of the streets down town, were housed where they belonged. The snow, which in the old days hindered business, was cleared away. The men were ready for it before it came, and went to work intelligently even before the snow stopped falling. Instead of picking their way amid slush and water, people walked dry shod. It is reported that the president of one of the great rubber overshoe companies said that his company had lost one hundred thousand dollars because of the work of the new street commission. One of the greatest difificulties that Colonel Waring had was to secure the cooperation of the people. They would throw peanut shells and banana skins on the sidewalks and in the parks; they would tear up their letters and let the wind scatter the pieces. Working as carefully as they could, the cleaners could not keep down-town streets free from scraps. The help 158 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. of the boys and girls was enlisted in these districts. Many a man was warned by these sharp-eyed children to " pick up dem papers, 'cos it's against the law." If he refused, a policeman was called to enforce obedience, and a lesson in neatness was learned that was not soon forgotten. Not the least part of Colonel Waring's work was its effect upon the people. Even the poorest took pride in their better surroundings. A woman in one of the worst quarters was heard to say: ** Well, I don't care, my street is cleaner than yours is, anyhow." Clean streets made their dirty rooms look all the dirtier, and women began to clear up their homes and to take greater care of their own appearance. And as outward sur- roundings affect the moral and mental condition of men and women, who can estimate the value of the work which Colonel Waring began? At the end of three years the old political leaders came once more into power. Colonel Waring's place was filled by another, but never again could New York go back to the old conditions. The people, having once known the advantages of clean streets, would never again put up with mud and filth. When the war with Spain ended there was more work for Colonel Waring. Havana had long been known to be the pest-hole of the American continent. It was the home of the yellow fever, and from there this terrible disease was brought into the United States. So long as Cuba remained under Spanish control, the United States could do nothing about cleaning out the harbor and sewers, but as soon as the war was ended President McKinley sent Colonel Waring to study the condi- tions there and report the best plans for cleaning the city. With his accustomed thoroughness, he carefully went over not only the sewerage system of Havana, but also that of other Cuban cities, and returned to New York after three weeks of hard work. His report was ready for the President, and he was GEORGE E. WARING, JR. 1 59 planning to go on to Washington after a day or two of rest. He did not go, for immediately after landing he became fatally ill with yellow fever — the very disease that he had been seeking to blot out. By his death the United States lost one of its most useful men and one of its greatest heroes. XXVIII. THE SIEGE OF PEKIN. For weeks during the spring of 1900 American and European missionaries, merchants and the officials in the legations in China had been disturbed by rumors that an organization known as " The Boxers " was forming plans to destroy not only every- one who was not a Chinaman, but everything foreign. The people of the legations at Pekin paid little attention to the warn- ings. The Boxers were from the lower classes, seemingly un- organized, and without trained leaders. The government officials continually said that there was no need to worry: — " the Boxers are not soldiers. They are an undisciplined rabble who only practice a sort of innocent gymnastics with a view to the protec- tion of their own homes." The ministers had little respect even for a Chinese soldier, who, they laughingly said, went " to war with his fan in one hand, his bird cage in the other, and his paper umbrella over his shoulder." Surely, they thought, an untrained native could accomplish little. They trusted in the promises that the empress would " at once issue orders for them to disperse," and in the knowledge that in all civilized countries the person of an ambassador or minister is sacred. But China was not civilized, at least according to modern standards. The missionaries, having been longer in China and having come into closer contact with the people, were less confident. They knew that for a long time the people had been growing restless. How far the feeling against the foreigners went they were not sure, but they suspected everyone, from the empress THE SIEGE OF PEKIN. l6l who, it was well known, was intensely jealous of all foreign in- fluence in China, to the humblest river man. Even though they feared a terrible uprising, these missionaries did not leave their posts. Many could not go if they would, and others would not if they could. They knew that the anger of the Chinese was aroused against the native converts to Christianity as well as against all foreigners, and they hoped that their own presence would protect somewhat the people whom they had taught and helped for many years. As days went by the disturbances grew more rather than less. The Boxers grew bolder, and the Chinese army did noth- ing. Finally the ministers at Pekin asked for an additional guard, and four hundred and fifty marines of various nationali- ties were sent from the war vessels off the coast. They arrived none too soon. The next day railroads and telegraphs were de- stroyed, and all the foreigners in Pekin were left to the mercy of hordes of savage fanatics. Then it was found that not the Boxers alone, but the whole nation was in arms against civili- zation. There were many reasons for this uprising. The European nations had not been kind to China. The Chinese had seen piece after piece of their territory seized and occupied by Russia, by Germany, by England. They had been compelled to open their ports for trade and even to give them up to these same greedy nations. They feared that their whole country would be divided and would pass from their control. - Moreover, they looked upon everything modern with con- tempt and distrust. They were satisfied with the life, the cus- toms, the implements, the modes of travel that their ancestors had used a thousand years before. For generations carts and boats had carried all the merchandise from one part of the coun- try to another. When the railroad came, it accomplished in a few hours what had before taken weeks to do. It took away the 1 62 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. work of thousands of river men, and whM was still worse, it dis- turbed the graves of their ancestors. China is everywhere a grave- yard, and ancestor worship is the chief part of its religion. Before the graves food is constantly placed, and millions of dollars of mock money are burned for the use of those in the spirit world. A railroad could not be laid with- out upturning some places of worship. A loco- motive was called a " black devil," and the foreigners who introduced it were intensely hated. There had been a long season of drought in China, and the foreigners were thought to be its cause. " Until all foreign- ers have been ex- terminated," a Boxer placard read, " the rain can never visit us." Therefore the streets rang with cries of " Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill the foreign devils!" With this cry was heard another, "Kill the secondary foreign devils! " for not only m ust the European and American suffer, but all who had been friendly to them, all who had taken their religion and become Christians. Everything opposed to the old Chinese ways must go. THE SIEGE OF PEKIN. 163 The disturbances were not confined to Pekin. In the coun- try the Chinese went about kilh'ng, and destroying property. Men and women who had spent a lifetime in laboring to help and uplift the people fled with their families and converts to the capital, which was thought to be the safest place in the empire. Place after place of refuge, legation after legation, was deserted, LADIES OF THE LEGATION MAKING SAND-BAGS. until nearly all the foreigners in the city were crowded behind the walls of the British legation. This place was chosen as the last stand because it had the largest grounds, the highest walls, and, above all, two wells of good water. The next two months saw some of the worst horrors, some of the hardest sufferings, some of the bravest deeds in history. It was found that the Chinese were not such mean fighters after all. Shot and shell flew over the refuge day and night. 164 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. Not a head could appear at an opening in the walls without danger. Sharpshooters, stationed no one knew where, brought down people as they crossed the courtyard. At night no lamp could be lighted and hardly a match struck without furnishing a target. ,To make the walls higher and stronger thousands of sand- bags were made. The ladies rested hardly long enough to eat, and worked as hard on the Sabbath as on week days. Sewing- machines were run constantly to make the sand-bags, and those who did not use a machine sewed by hand all sorts and descrip- tions- of materials, — rich silks, fine table-linen, beautiful muslin, and rough and dirty cloths. Those who were not sewing filled bags with sand. No one hesitated to do even this humble work. Mrs. Conger, the wife of the American minister, and a Russian priest together held bags which a Chinese convert filled. The force of soldiers within the legation walls was very small. The foreigners had guns, but no cannon. One day an old can- non, made long ago in England, was found unmounted in a Chinese shop near by. The soldiers joyfully took possession of it and brought it behind the fortifications, where it was lashed to a beam and mounted on wheels belonging to the Italian marines, who in their hurry to reach Pekin had left their gun behind. It was found that the Russians had some shells that would fit; the Japanese supplied the fuse and the Germans the powder. This international gun was wheeled into different positions along the wall to deceive the Chinese into thinking that the besieged were well supplied with arms. But it was a dangerous thing to handle. Each time it was fired it had to be relashed to the beam, and each time those near by held their breath, fearing it would do more harm to its friends than its foes. Yet in the hands of a skillful American gunner named Mitchell it sent terror into the hearts of the Chinese and kept them at a respectful distance. Mitchell was one of the heroes THE SIEGE OF PEKIN. 165 of the foreign colony. He performed the most daring deeds and each time escaped unhurt, until near the end of the siege, when he was severely wounded. Shot and shell were not the only dangers the besieged had to face. Finding that they were unable to accomplish their THE INTERNATIONAL GUN. desire with their guns, the Chinese attempted to burn out the foreigners. No building was too valuable to destroy. They even set fire to the library close by the British legation, which held Chinese books and documents which could never be re- placed. The flames carried by the wind seemed to be beyond l66 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. control. All within the legation walls were mustered out to fight the fire; women and children formed a chain to hurry on buckets filled with water. '* If they were not missionaries and ambassadors and women," said a Chinaman, " what a splendid fire department they would make!" But the wind changed, the flames were carried the other way, and the legation was saved. The Chinese had really hurt themselves more than the foreigners; the fires cleared the streets and destroyed their hid- ing places. The worst enemy was hunger. As day after day went by and relief did not come, the stock of provisions grew less and less. Rice came to be the chief food. This was sometimes served with" French beef," in other words, with horse flesh; but most preferred the rice alone. The women unselfishly gave up the remaining stock of canned meats to those who served behind the barricades, and the condensed milk had to be saved for the children. One of the ladies who had been visiting Mrs. Conger and had been unable to get away from Pekin had a birthday. An official, during a lull in the figliting, went out beyond the wall and found, growing near the Mongolian market, a single ear of corn. This he brought to Mrs. Woodward for her birthday feast. She passed it round for a single bite among the other ladies in the little house where the American minister and sev- eral other families were crowded. That one bite was better than a whole dinner of good things. " My, but it did taste good," recorded one in her diary. The children had a hard time. They grew pale and thin and ill. Yet they never quarreled and seldom complained, though one little fellow was heard to say, " We can't play in the chapel because you say we make too much noise.' We can't play out- side because you are afraid we will be shot. Where can we play?" The older people, as well as the children, grew in time TFIE SIEGE OF PEKIN. 167 almost indifferent to the continued firing which ever afterward would " make lire-crackers tame." So they wrote diaries and letters when relieved from duty, made sketches, sat for portraits and sang hymns and songs, even though the women carried revolvers in their dresses to be used upon themselves and their friends if the enemy proved too strong. Anything was better than to fall into the hands of the Chinese. Attempt after attempt was made to get messsages to the coast. Several messengers were sent out only to be killed, searched or turned back. At last a Chinese boy was successful in reaching Tientsin. He had been let down over the walls of the city dressed as a beggar, and carrying a letter in the bottom of his porridge bowl. His bowl was broken in getting over the wall; he had to hide his letter as best he could; he was com- pelled by a farmer to serve for a week, but somehow he escaped being searched. Finally he reached Pekin again with cheery messages that help was at hand. A large army formed of troops of all the different nationali- ties was on its way to Pekin. How anxiously they were watched for can only be known by those who waited. All the horses and mules had been killed but four, the meal was nearly gone, and clothing was worn to shreds. The last night was the worst of the whole siege. The Chinese, knowing that the relief was near, made a last effort. They were again unsuccessful, and the next afternoon the troops had come and the enemy had fled. What will be the final result of all this upheaval in China no one can tell. One thing is sure. In the end it will be for the best good of the people. The work of the heroic men and women who have suffered and died there will not be in vain. Sometime, though, perhaps, not until after long delay and dis- order, China will awake and become modernized, civilized, Christianized. XXIX. TITUS COAN, THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. It is almost impossible to conceive to-day what it meant seventy-five years ago to leave civilized America, home and frientis, and, after a six-months' voyage around Cape Horn, to take up a permanent residence and enter upon one's life-work in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, on what was then known as the Sandwich Islands. " The people were, if not in the lowest state of barbarism in which men are ever found, yet certainly in a very low state of intellectual, social and moral debasement." They wore very little clothing, had no comfortable dwellings, no written language, no courts of law or justice. Everything they had, their lands, their houses, their cattle, their families, be- longed to the chiefs, most of whom were selfish and cruel. When the missionaries arrived in Hawaii and saw the degrada- tion and barbarism of the half-naked, chattering savages who came out from land to the ship in their little canoes, they could hardly help inquiring: " Can these be human beings? Can we take up our abode for life among such a people? Can they be civilized and Christianized?" The life of Titus Coan shows, on the one hand, how success- ful the work of civilizing and Christianizing these islands has been, and on the other hand, what real heroism was needed to carry this work onward to complete success. Mr. Coan and Fidelia Church, bis bride of a month, left Boston for Honolulu on the fifth of December, 1834. They arrived at the islands, via Cape Horn, on the sixth of June, 1835, having been just six months on the voyage. They made their home at Hilo, a place on the TITUS COAN, THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 169 eastern side of the largest and most southern island, Hawaii. Here Mr. Coan lived, and labored heroically, forty-seven years; here he died on the first of December, 1882. He spent two years in the study of the Hawaiian language, which is a beautiful tongue, delightful to the ear, and acquired without great difficulty. It is written with twelve letters — five vowels and seven consonants. Rev. S. L. Desha, the present pastor of the church at Hilo, where Mr. Coan preached for so many years, in an address in Boston, in September, 1899, said: '*It may seem strange to you, but we Hawaiians think that our language is nearest to the language of heaven of any- thing we can know. The Greek- language is certainly hard to learn, and it is very difficult to understand all the ins and outs of your English tongue, so we think that our language is the language — the language of heaven." After Mr. Coan had mastered the language, he spent much of his time traveling over his parish, and preaching to the people in their native villages. Plis district covered a region over one hundred miles across, and it had a population of about fifteen thousand. Much of the land was mountainous, and there were no roads and no bridges. There were no horses, and all the journeys were raade on foot, often with great peril to life and limb. Often he climbed down precipices, holding fast to shrubs and grasses, and sometimes he was let down with ropes TITUS COAN. I/O AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. from tree to tree and from crag to crag. That part of the island was crossed by numerous mountain torrents, which rushed over slippery bowlders and poured in cataracts over the precipices. With the aid of a long pole, Mr. Coan could leap from rock to rock when the rivers were low, but when they were swollen by heavy rains the passage was difficult and dangerous. Some- times he was carried across on the broad shoulder of a native ; sometimes a company of strong men would lock hands and stretch a living line from shore to shore between him and the cataract, while he worked himself along from man to man. Sometimes, when the river was so swollen that neither of these methods was possible, a native carrying a rope would jump into the current far above the falls; then, though always borne down by the current nearer and nearer to the precipice, he would swim across to the other side and make the end of the rope fast. Thus, by grasping the rope with both hands, a safe passage was made by the rest of the company. Later, after roads had been made and horses were introduced, Mr. Coan's trips through his parish were made with less difficulty, but even then he often had narrow escapes from death. For many years Mr. Coan spent much of his time in regular tours round the island, organizing schools and churches, and acting also as the only physician the Hilo mission had. At times he would preach during the week only six or seven sermons, but frequently he would preach from twenty-five to thirty-five times a week. Physically he was tall and robust, and had tremendous energy. He was thoroughly devoted to his work, and his charming personal presence helped to give success to his labors. In the years 1836-37-38 a great religious revival occurred among the people in the vicinity of Hilo. Mr. Coan had made a tour of the island, and had created great interest in his preach- ing. On his return, his congregation continued to increase in f TITUS COAN THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 171 numbers and interest. Whole families and whole villages came to Hilo, even bringing the aged and feeble on litters, sometimes from a distance of thirty or fifty miles. Many remained a long ANCIENT HAWAIIAN IDOLS. time to attend the meetings. They built little cabins and booths to live in. They fished, and even planted potatoes and taro for food. Mr. Coan said: " We estimated that our population was increased to ten thousand souls." IJI AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. The house of worship was two hundred feet long and eighty- five feet wide, but even this large edifice could not contain the crowds that came to hear Mr. Coan preach. At once the natives went to work and built a new meeting-house. The timber was cut and hauled from the mountains by hand, and, wonderful to relate, in three weeks a building that could hold two thousand people was completed. Finally, on the first Sunday in July, 1838, a great meeting was held to receive the new converts into the church. Mr. Coan himself thus describes this scene: '* The memorable morning came, arrayed in glory. A purer sky, a brighter sun, a serener atmosphere, a more silvery sea, and a more brilliant and charming landscape could not be desired. The very heavens over us and the earth around us seemed to smile. The hour came; during the time of prepara- tion the house was kept clear of all but the actors, in order that the air might be pure. With the roll in hand, the leaders of the classes were called in, with their companies of candidates, in the order of all the villages: first of Hilo district, then of Puna, last of Kau. From my roll the names of the first class were called one by one, and I saw each individual seated against the wall, and so the second, and so on until the first row was formed. Thus row after row was extended the whole length of the house, leaving spaces for one to pass between the lines. After every name had been called, and every individual recognized and seated, all the former members of the church were admitted and seated on the opposite side of the building, and the remaining space given to as many as could find room, " All being thus prepared, we had singing and prayer; then a word of explanation of the rite of baptism, with exhortation. After this, with a basin of water, I passed back and forth between the lines, sprinkling each individual until all, to the number of 1,705, were baptized. Standing in the center of the congregation of the baptized, I pronounced these words: ' I baptize you all TITUS COAN, THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 173 into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.' " The scene was one of solemn and tender interest, surpassing anything of the kind I had ever witnessed. All heads were bowed and tears fell. All was hushed except sobs and breathing." LAVA FLOW. During the year more than five thousand persons were re- ceived into the fellowship of the church at Hilo, and during the entire ministry of Mr, Coan the number reached thirteen thou- sand ; and between four and five thousand children were baptized. It must not be supposed that these ignorant people could 174 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. throw off immediately the weight of superstition that had held them down for centuries. Though the gods had been overthrown shortly before the missionaries first came to Hawaii, the inhab- itants were still under the influence of the ancient belief. Near the center of the island of Hawaii is situated Kilauea, the largest active volcano in the world. The crater was supposed to be the abode of Pele, the terrible goddess of fire and earthquake, whom the natives feared long after Christianity was introduced. Among the early converts was Kapiolani, a woman of high rank. She grieved that her people should continue to fear the wrath of the goddess, and determined to show them that Pele was powerless. Isabella Bird, who visited the islands in 1873, tells the story as follows: Kapiolani " announced that it was her intention to visit Kilauea, and dare the fearful goddess to do her worst. Her hus- band and many others tried to dissuade her, but she was resolute, and, taking with her a large retinue, she made a journey of one hundred miles, mostly on foot, over the rugged lava, till she arrived near the crater. Here a priestess of Pele met her, threat- ened her with the displeasure of the goddess if she persisted in her hostile errand, and prophesied that she and her followers would perish miserably. Kapiolani gathered and ate the sacred berries, contrary to custom, and then she and her company of eighty persons descended to the black edge of Hale-mau-mau. "There, in full view of the fiery pit, she thus addressed her followers : " * Jehovah is my God. He kindled these fires. I fear not Pele. If I perish by the anger of Pele, then you may fear the power of Pele; but if I trust in Jehovah, and He saves me from the wrath of Pele, when I break through her ** tabus," then you must fear and serve the Lord Jehovah. All the gods of Hawaii are vain ! Great is Jehovah's goodness in sending teachers to turn us from these vanities to the living God and the way of righteousness ! ' TITUS COAN, THE MISSIONARY TO HAWAII. 175 ** Then they sang a hymn. I can fancy the strange proces- sion winding its backward way over the cracked, hot lava sea, the robust behef of the princess hardly sustaining the limping faith of her followers, whose fears would not be laid to rest until they had reached the crater's rim without any signs of the pursuit of an avenging deity. It was more sublime than Elijah's appeal on the soft green slopes of Mount Carmel. But the popular be- lief in the goddess of the volcano survived this flagrant instance of her incapacity, and only died out many years afterwards." Kilauea lay in Mr. Coan's parish, and the natives called him '* the Bishop of the Volcano." He was a tireless observer of the eruptions of Mauna Loa and Kilauea, and his many pub- lished papers form the completest existing record of Hawaiian volcanic phenomena. When Mr. Coan had been in the islands less than twenty- five years he wrote: I believe that the Gospel has effected a signal triumph on these shores. Savagism has fled before it, never to return. Idolatry has fallen, never to rise again. Ignorance and supersti- tion have fled apace before its rising light. . . . Most of the people can read and write. . . . The comforts and im- provements of civilization are multiplied. . . . The nation has experienced a great civil revolution. . . . External morality is more generally practiced here than in most nations, or perhaps any nation. Nowhere on earth are life and property more secure. Open crimes are of rare occurrence. . . . We are toiling up the hill, and we may say that no savage tribes ever went so fast and so far in thirty-five years as the Hawaiians. " To bring this about, the good missionary, aided by his gentle and heroic wife, endured ,mri3cir~suffering, and was the hero of labors unsurpassed. Perhaps no man in modern times has seen greater results from his labors than Titus Coan saw during his own lifetime from his heroic services in Hawaii. I XXX. FATHER EELLS AND WHITMAN COLLEGE. In the autumn of 1847 occurred a frightful tragedy in what was then known as the Oregon Country. Dr. Marcus Whitman and a dozen other persons were cruelly massacred by the Indians at Whitman's station on the Walla Walla River, a branch of the Columbia. Dr. Whitman was a missionary to the Indians, and this massacre broke up the Indian missions in that entire region. Another missionary, who had been stationed at a point far- ther north, was the Rev. Cushing Eells. He and his family went down the river and located in the Willamette Valley. After some twelve years, Father Eells, as he was generally called dur- ing the latter part of his life, visited Whitman's old mission sta- tion and the great grave which contained the remains of the missionary, his wife and nine others. Standing there on the mission premises, he thought of the good work that had been done among the Indians, and how it had terminated. He felt strongly that something should be done to honor the Christian martyrs that had fallen there. He thought that instead of a monument of stone an institution of learning would best perpet- uate the name of Whitman. Standing there by that grave, he solemnly promised that he would do what he could to establish a seminary. Having obtained a charter from the Legislature of the Terri- tory of Washington for Whitman Seminary, he bought the old mission premises, which occupied a mile square of fertile land. In the following spring, with a borrowed yoke of oxen and his own pair of horses and a wagon, accompanied by his son Edwin, FATHER EELLS AND WHITMAN COLLEGE. 77 then eighteen years of age, he made the journey of about three hundred miles from Forest Grove to what is now Whitman township, in Walla Walla County, Washington. During the summer these two persons lived in a log house fourteen feet square, with the ground for a floor and a roof of logs and dirt. In the autumn they sold their crop for several hun- dred dollars, and returned to Forest Grove for the winter. The next spring the father and son, leaving as before the mother and a younger boy at home, again made the long jour- ney to Walla Walla, and again cultivated the ground. In the fall, when the crops were secured, there was no sale for them. Edwin said, ** Father, you go down the river and take care of mother and Myron. I will stay here and sell the crops. " This course was taken; the father returned to Forest Grove and the young man remained at Walla Walla through the winter. Edwin had his meals with a family that lived in the log hut, but slept during the entire winter in a large freight wagon, never taking off his clothes for seventy-two nights. The winter of 1861-62 was very severe in that section. Between the Rocky Mountains and the Cascades the snow lay on the ground from December to March, and at one time the mercury fell to 29° 12 178 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. below zero. Nearly all the cattle died. Young Mr. Eells after- ward said that on one of the coldest mornings, while he was eat- ing his breakfast in the log cabin, the water froze in his drinking cup on the table. In spite of the cold and discomfort and depri- vation, Edwin remained at his post until he accomplished his purpose. The crop was sold, and he was there on the ground ready to begin work when the winter was over. In the following spring, when Father Eells was again making his preparations for the journey up the Columbia, his wife said, ** You must not go alone again. It is not right for me to leave you and Edwin in that wild country to shift for yourselves. The family ought not to be so divided. If you are to go to Walla Walla I must go with you. We can all make our home in the log hut." Father Eells shrank from taking his wife and the younger son away from civilization, three hundred miles up the river into the wilderness, where there were but few white peo- ple, but the mother's counsel prevailed. The family moved to Walla Walla, where they built a better log house and estab- lished their home. Father Eells, by his own labor in cultivating the land, which was very productive, with the aid of his son Edwin, earned enough to pay for the entire property. He devoted one-half of the land to the seminary ; but it was thought best not to locate the school there, but in the growing town of Walla Walla, a few miles away. Six acres of land in that town were given, on which to build the seminary. Money was raised by subscrip- tion, and the first building was erected. This was a substantial wooden two-story building, arranged not unlike the typical New England village school-house. The cost of the building was more than had been expected, and when the seminary was dedicated, in spite of the subscriptions, it was in debt. Loans had been secured to pay these debts, but the interest was large, and as Mr. Eells had signed all the notes, the outlook was anything FATHER EELLS AND WHITMAN COLLEGE. 79 but promising. At one time it looked as if the building must soon be sold to pay the debts. Father Eells was not the man to surrender. It seemed as if nothing could discourage his heroic spirit. He taught school and was superintendent of schools for the county; he carried on the farm and raised stock; he sold cordwood ; he peddled chickens, eggs and the like; and Mrs. Eells, though nearly sixty years of age, made and sold four hun- dred pounds of butter. So the bills were paid and the school was free from debt. From time to time for nearly twenty years Eastern men were en- gaged as pre- ceptors. Then the seminary became a college, new buildings were erected, and additional grounds secured. To-day Whitman College, at Walla Walla, Washington, is one of the most flourishing institutions in the entire Northwest. Father Eells was president of the board of trustees for more than thirty years, until his death. He lived long enough to witness much of the rapid growth and usefulness of the college. Father Eells was always a poor man. As a missionary he received no salary, his expenses only, being paid by the mission- ary board. As a teacher his income was small, but he was WHITMAN MEMORIAL BUILDING. i8o AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. always frugal, and his personal and family wants were few and simple. Sometimes the entire family expense was not more than a hundred dollars a year. By his economy he was always able to save something, and personally, from first to last, he gave Whitman College more than ten thousand dollars, and secured from others a sum much larger than that, perhaps twice as large. John Harvard, who founded the university which bears his name, made at his death a bequest in its favor of a sum not half as large as Father Eells gave to the college that bears the name of his friend. XXXI. DOROTHEA DIX. Dorothea Lynde Dix was one of those unfortunate women who never knew what childhood meant. Her father paid more attention to the imagined needs of other people than to the com- fort of his own wife and children. He never remained long in one pursuit, but wandered restlessly from place to place. The fam- ily hardly knew what a home meant. They were poor, and often hungry; they had no friends and no educational or social advantages. Dorothea was very unlike her father. At an early age she began to fret about her little brothers, who, she real- ized, could never, in such surroundings, be like the happy chil- dren she saw around her. She knew that she could do nothing for them so long as she remained with them, so one day she ran away from home and went to Boston, where her grandmother lived. Dorothea now had a comfortable home, although very little more of the pleasures of childhood than in her father's house. Her grandparent was a stern woman who lived wholly by rule. In her home there was no show of affection, no idle minutes, no time for play, only plenty of hard work that must be done thor- oughly. However, Dorothea at last found the one thing for which she longed — an opportunity to go to school and to study. An education would open the way to earn the money that would make her mother and her little brothers comfortable. When only fourteen she taught her first school, and she was so afraid that the children would know how young she was that she dressed to make herself appear as old as possible. There l82 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. was little need of this, for she was so stern and unbending that the children fairly feared her. Not until much contact with the sufferings of others had blotted out the memory of her early years did Dorothea show how tender and full of love her heart really was. As time went by Miss Dix became known as a skillful teacher. Children were sent to her school from all parts of New England. She earned more than enough for her own needs and the edu- cation of her brothers. But she worked too hard ; her strength could not endure long days that began at sunrise and ended after midnight. She had to give up her school and spend months in resting and coaxing back her health. In her estimation these were months wasted, since there were so many duties to be per- formed. " No day, no hour comes," she wrote, " but brings in its train work to be performed for some useful end — the suffer- ing to be comforted, the wanderer led home, the sinner re- claimed. Oh ! how can any fold the hands to rest and say to the spirit, ' Take thine ease, for all is well.' " Before she really recovered, her attention was called to a great evil, to the remedying of which she ever afterward de- voted her life. To one of the students at the theological school at Cambridge had been assigned the duty of teaching on Sunday the women in the East Cambridge House of Correction. He soon came to the conclusion that a woman could do them more good than a man. He went to Miss Dix for advice, and she said, " I will take them myself." Mr. Nichols attempted to persuade her that her health would not permit, but she stopped him with the determined answer, " I shall be there next Sun- day." After the service that Sunday her attention was called to the pitiable condition of several insane persons who were shut up in the jail. Their room had no fire, they were half clothed, and they looked neglected and abused. DOROTHEA DIX. I83 The insane were everywhere treated with great cruelty,- though at this time Miss Dix did not know it. Insanity had never been considered a disease. Those affected by it were sup- posed to be possessed of evil spirits, and, having been thus given up to demons, they were treated as outcasts. The church cursed them, and police of^cers put them in prison as no better than thieves and murderers. If they became violent they were caged like wild beasts. In fact, in England residents of the city used to take their country friends to the jails to see the ravings of these unfortunate creatures. Guests and hosts considered this the choicest kind of entertainment. The time had not yet come when disease of any kind excited compassion or received relief and help. The strong and the powerful ruled, and they had not learned that it was manly to help the weak. Only within the fifty years before Miss Dix first visited the Cambridge jail had people grown humane enough to realize that '' the insane man is not an inexplicable monster," but that " he is only one of ourselves." Then it was proved that chains and iron cages and neglect could only make the patient worse, while kindness and care often brought about a cure. Insanity needed the same thoughtful attention as any other disease, but it took many years of continual agitation to convince people that it was their duty to care for the insane who had no friends and no means. Miss Dix could not rest until she had brought the condition of the insane inmates of the Cambridge jail to the attention of the proper authorities. They granted her request that they be given a fire, though their keeper declared it an unwise and dangerous thing to do. Then she began to wonder if the rule in Cambridge was the rule in other places in Massachusetts. She was not content with having justice done in one place. She set out on a journey of investigation ; she visited every prison and almshouse in the state; she would not rely on hearsay; she AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. saw everything herself, no matter how revolting it might be. Her discoveries are too dreadful to relate. The Cambridge jail was not the exception, unless because it was better than the rest. On her return to Boston she petitioned the Legislature of the state to remedy these great evils. '* Men of Massachu- setts, I beg, I implore, I de- mand, pity and protection for these," she wrote. " Put away the cold, calculating; spirit of selfish- ness; lay off the armor of local strife and political oppo- sition. Your action upon this subject will affect the present and future condition of thousands." People were shocked at the conditions that she faithfully portrayed; they declared that her stories were inventions; keepers of jails and almshouses said that they were lies; Miss Dix was called a busybody, prying into places where no woman had any business to be. But it was found that she had told only the truth. Friends came to her support. Her petition went through the Legislature. Asylums and hospitals A Vlhll ro A TRISON. DOROTHEA DIX. 1 85 were built, and from one state at least was removed a great disgrace. Miss Dix was not satisfied with her success in Massachusetts. The sufferings of the unfortunate must be the same in other states, and " what, in the way of relief, is one little drop in such an ocean of misery?" She felt that she had been called to a mission, and her nature would not permit her to turn aside from anything she thought to be a duty. She ferreted out the evils in other localities, state by state, and compelled the people to give them a hearing and find a remedy. North, south, east and west she traveled, and everywhere a reform followed her coming. Other countries besides America were benefited by her labors. While resting in England, she went to Scotland on a pleasure trip, but she could not " close her eyes to the condition of these most helpless of all God's children " — the insane. Previous at- tempts to arouse the conscience of the Scots had been all una- vailing, and friends told Miss Dix that she could do no good, and that her interference would be regarded as an impertinence. She could. not be turned aside. She studied the houses of detention as thoroughly as she had done in America, and so vigorously brought the matter before the English government that a commission was appointed to investigate the state of the asylums in Scotland. From Scotland Miss Dix visited the asylums of the Channel Islands, of France, Italy, Greece, and even Turkey. In Rome she sought and gained an audience with the Pope, and so won his sympathy that he promised to make a personal investiga- tion of the asylums near the Vatican. Like other rulers, he acknowledged his gratification at the work she had already done, and warmly thanked her, " a woman and a Protestant, for crossing the seas to call to his attention, as Chief Shepherd of the sheep, these cruelly entreated members of his flock." l86 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. " And did you really kneel down and kiss his hand? " some of her friends used to ask. " Most certainly I did," she replied. ** I revered him for his saintliness." This was a time before women had gone out into the world to vie with men in the struggle for existence. Many thought that Miss Dix must be unwomanly, and were prejudiced against her ; but when they came in contact with her, few could withstand her enthusiasm and her rich, sweet voice. One lady who after- ward became her firm friend tells how her prejudice was turned to admiration. Her husband came up to the nursery where she was at work one day and said that Miss Dix was below. She declined to go down, but was told that ** Miss Dix had come to stay all night," and would like to see her " in the nursery!" ** I thought it an unceremonious proceeding; did not like a woman who went about as self-appointed critic! She made her appearance, and one look at that calm, gentle face had its effect." When in Rhode Island Miss Dix called on Mr. Cyrus Butler to ask a subscription. Mr. Butler had never been known to give anything for charity. He was very wealthy, and seemed to care only to add more dollars to his many. He tried to put her off, but finally was compelled by her gentle insistence to listen to her tale. At last he asked, " Miss Dix, what do you want me to do?" " Sir, I want you to give $50,000 toward the enlargement of the insane hospital in this city." " Madam, I'll do it," he answered. And the great Butler Hospital was the result. At another time, after she had spent hours trying to con- vince members of the New Jersey Legislature, a rough country- man rose and said : " Ma'am, I bid you good night! I do not want, for my part. DOROTHEA DIX. 18/ to hear anything more ; the others can stay if they want to. I am convinced. You have conquered me out and out. I shall vote for the hospital. If you'll come to the House and talk there as you have done here, no man that isn't a brute can withstand you, and so, when a man's convinced, that's enough." Even the children could not withstand her. They eagerly gave their toys to amuse the poor insane people of whom she could tell so many stories. Oftentimes, after she had gone, it is to be feared, they were sorry because they had parted with some cherished toy, and it is told that sometimes when children heard that Miss Dix was to visit the house they hurriedly hid their most valued possessions lest they should give them away under the influence of her enthusiasm. One secret of Miss Dix's power was that she was always pre- pared for any emergency. When traveling she provided herself with nails, pieces of rope and straps, lest in crossing a ford or riding down a rough road the wagon or the harness should give way. So thoroughly had she studied her cause, and so sure was she of its justice, that when presenting it she was able to give facts and reasons that would destroy every adverse argument. Thoroughness and devotion were two secrets of her success. We must not suppose that this was an easy work for Miss Dix to undertake. She was thoroughly womanly, with all a true woman's dislike for publicity and with a repugnance for anything that was coarse or repulsive. She disliked the politi- cians with whom she was forced to come in contact. She was very sensitive, and must have been deeply hurt by the abuse that frequently came to her. But she would not acknowledge that she knew the word " failure," and she often said, " The tonic I need is the tonic of opposition. That always sets me on my feet." So ** over the whole length and breadth of the land are her footsteps, and where she steps, flowers of the richest odor of humanity are sprouting and blooming, as on an angel's i88 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. path." Yet she would not speak of her success, and to the last would allow no one to write the story of her life. When the last years came, she who had provided a home for so many had no home to go to. Then the asylum that she had founded in Trenton, New Jersey, invited her to make her home there. A few cheery rooms were set apart for her use, and there she was tenderly cared for during the rest of her life. At one time, when wanting an inscription to be placed on a fountain, she wrote to John Greenleaf Whittier for the transla- tion of an Arabic inscription that had attracted her. Not being able to remember the words, he sent her the following lines, which show a just appreciation of Dorothea Dix's humble spirit: " Stranger and traveler ! Drink freely and bestow A kindly thought on her. Who bade this fountain flow ; Yet hath for it no claim. Save as the minister, Of blessing in God's name." XXXII. CLARA BARTON. Clara Barton is universally regarded, both in Europe and in America, as the " guardian angel " of the sick and the dis- tressed. Others may hesitate or refuse to listen, but she ever heeds the cry for help. Age, ill-health, discomforts, dangers are forgotten whenever war or disaster brings suffering. Though intensely patriotic, her sympathy is wide enough to include the world. She hastened as eagerly to the relief of the persecuted Christians of Armenia and the starving reconcentrados of Cuba as of the homeless people of Galveston. So well does the world appreciate her devotion that at the third Geneva Conference of Red Cross workers the assembly with great applause voted that ''Mademoiselle Barton bien nitrite de r humanity." This is the highest expression of honor that the French language can give, and means in English, " Miss Barton deserves praise from the whole human race." Yet with all of her honors and all her public services she is a most humble woman. She is too busy helping the people to talk about her work. She lets her deeds speak for her; she will not praise her- self. Clara Barton's childhood, until she was eleven years old, was as uneventful as that of most New England children. Then her oldest brother fell from a building and was so seriously injured that for two years he was a helpless invalid. Clara then first showed her self-sacrificing and unselfish nature. She gave up her play and spent her time in amusing and waiting upon her brother, and he in a very short time preferred the services of the 190 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. child to those of any of the grown people of the family. Pier patience never ended, and her feet seemed untiring. Early in her young womanhood she went on a visit to Bor- dentown, New Jersey, a rough manufacturing town. To her great surprise she found that the town had no public school. The authorities had attempted many times to open a school, but so many teachers had been turned out that the officials de- spaired of finding any one who could control the children. So the school had been given up and the children roamed the streets. Miss Barton was distressed at their wildness. One day she went to the authorities and offered to open a school. They laughed at her — a woman attempting to un- dertake a task in which men had failed ! Though they refused to help her, they could not discour- age her. She next tried to enlist the help of the parents. A few were sympathetic, and again she went to the authorities, offering to serve three months without pay if they would allow her to open a school. They still were doubtful of her ability, but they consented to provide a building. The first morning six children came, and these six found school a delightful place. Others, hearing their enthusiastic reports, thought that they, too, might like school. Attending school quickly became the fashion, and at the end of the first month the building could not hold all who wanted to come. Miss Barton did not accomplish this marvelous result without long hours of hard thought and work. Her health could not stand the strain, but before she resigned a large building for ^G> Oyrfcn^^ CLARA BARTON. 91 grade classes had been built, and there were six hundred pupils in the school. It always has seemed Miss Barton's lot to undertake tasks that others could not or would not do. A slight incident illus- trates this. Miss Barton was riding in a street-car from her home at Glen Echo, about six miles out of Washington; she was on her way to Cuba, and her arms were filled with packages. An accident happened, and the car stopped in a gully full of mud. The conductor's polite request that the passengers would go out was answered by complaints and grumblings. Miss Barton was the oldest woman in the car, but she gathered up her bundles and went out, saying, " This seems but a little thing to complain of. Follow me." To step out into the mud might well seem a" little thing" to one who had undertaken so many great things, but she showed the same willingness to do what others hesitated to do, as when during the Civil War she went to Morris Island. " How could you expose your life and health to that terrible heat? " some one asked. " Why, the other women thought they could not endure the climate, and as I knew somebody must take care of the soldiers, I went." In her work at the Patent Office in Washington she also suc- ceeded where others failed. The records and books in this office were in great confusion, and Miss Barton was appointed to straighten them out. At that time very few women held any- thing but subordinate positions, and the clerks resented having a woman placed over them. They determined to make her life so uncomfortable that she would be compelled to resign. Morn^- ing after morning as she passed through the long corridor on the way to her office she walked between two lines of whistling, staring men. They little knew Miss Barton's character if they thought she would be turned aside by impertinence. They next 192 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. tried slander, but the superintendent, hearing of it, dismissed the slanderers and filled their places with women. Miss Barton had little trouble after this, and she held her position, except for a short interval, until the Civil War broke out. When the soldiers began to march through Washington she gave up her place at the Patent Office to work for them. At first she contented herself with caring for their needs while they were quartered at the capital, but she kept wishing she might go to the front — not to the hospitals, but to the battle-fields. She was uncertain how the soldiers would receive her, so when she was called home to see her sick father she talked with him about it. " Go," he said, " if you feel it your duty to go. I know what soldiers are, and I know that every true soldier will respect you and your errand." She spent her own savings freely in procuring medicines and supplies. Her friends remonstrated, but she replied, " What is money to me if I have no country? If I return I can earn my living. If I do not, it is no matter." Miss Barton always had what others did not have. She seemed to be able to find hidden stores for which others searched in vain, and her thoughtfulness provided what others had for- gotten. On the field she was fearless. While the battle raged she supplied the men with gruel, carrying it to them in buckets. Her face grew black and her throat parched, but she kept to her work as long as she was needed. At another time, being urged to leave because there was to be a bombardment, she scornfully replied, '* Do you think I will leave here during a bombard- ment? " Where the heaviest fighting was, there she was needed the most. Just before the battle of Fredericksburg a mortally wounded ofificer was brought to her. He was a Confederate, but that made no difference; she tended him as carefully as though he CLARA BARTON. I93 were a friend, and not a foe. She won his heart as easily as she had won the hearts of the Union troops, and when a request came for her to go into the town he begged her not to go. She said that she must. " Lady," he whispered, " you have been very kind to me. You could not save my life, but you have endeavored to render death easy. I owe it to you to tell you what a few hours ago I would have died sooner than have re- vealed. Every street and lane of the city is covered by our cannon ; not a regiment will be allowed to escape. Do not go over, for you will go to certain death." Miss Barton stayed with him until he died, then she hurried to her post and re- mained with the troops all through that terrible battle. Though the men fell by thousands, she stayed with them until the order for retreat came, and the last wounded soldier had crossed the river. Not only was she the soldiers' nurse in the hospital and on the field, but she was their friend as well. Many men blessed her for pointing out the difference between right and wrong. One day after a battle a company of soldiers brought her an ex- pensive carpet. ** What is this for ? " she asked. " It is for you, ma'am. You have been so good to us we wanted to bring you something," one of the men answered. Where did you get it? " she demanded. The men were puzzled by her sternness, but one replied, ** Oh, ma'am, we confiscated it." " No, no," said Miss Barton. " Governments confiscate. Soldiers steal when they take such things. I am afraid, my men, that you will have to take the carpet back to the house from which you took it. I cannot receive a stolen carpet." When the war was over Miss Barton spent some time hunt- ing up missing men, marking their graves, and sending letters to their friends. When her health broke down from her long labors 13 194 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM, she went for a rest to Europe. While there she became inter- ested in the Red Cross organization. This society had been formed a few years before, and most European nations had signed a treaty recognizing it. The object of the society is to make neutral all hospital supplies and at- tendants on the battle-field. Wherever the white flag with its red cross flies, that place is to be sacred ; no gun can be fired in that direction. All nations who enter into the treaty promise to care for all wounded, friend and foe alike. Miss Barton instantly sy m p athized with the move- ment, seeing how much it could accom- plish by system- atic methods that permitted '* no mistakes, no needless suf- fering, no waste, no confusion." When the war broke out in the service of the Red Cross, and when at last she returned to America it was with the determination to get the United States to join the European nations in signing the treaty. She worked many years before she succeeded. The public was not interested in a move- ment that had to do with war alone, for the United States was not at war, and there was no prospect of war. As soon as Miss Barton became the head of the American Red Cross Society, she showed that the organization was equally useful in times of peace. When the Charleston earthquake oc- A RED CROSS NURSE ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. between Germany and France she enlisted CLARA BARTON. 195 curred Miss Barton and the "Red Cross" were the first to respond. After the Johnstown flood, after fires in the West, after a West Indian cyclone had devastated the coast islands of South Carolina, after the Galveston disaster, the Red Cross nurses were quickly at hand. At their headquarters supplies of all kinds are constantly kept ready for instant call, and the pub- lic always has a safe agent to distribute their gifts. Thus valu- able time and much suffering are saved. When the Spanish war broke out, Miss Barton, though nearly seventy years old, went to Cuba. Many women would consider that after such a long life of labor they had earned a right to rest. But she can never rest so long as there is an opportunity for her to help and to serve. For her sacrificing forgetfulness of self thousands have blessed her in the years that are passed, and thousands still will bless her during the years to come. XXXIII. BISHOP CHRISTOPHER SOWER. In the various chapters of this book we have portrayed different kinds of heroism. We have seen how the soldier and the sailor in their love for country forget themselves when there is need for special service; we have learned how firemen, rail- road men, and others who occupy posts of danger gladly do more than their required duty to save and protect life; we have heard how men and women sacrifice ease and comfort, and even life itself, to help the suffering and the oppressed. But, after all, the highest type of heroism is moral heroism, and the high- est type of moral heroism is suffering for the sake of principle. Through all the ages and in all countries there have been moral heroes who have borne severe physical suffering rather than deny what they believed to be the truth. In our day and in our country we have freedom of speech and liberty of con- science. So long as a man does not interfere with the rights of others he may hold such opinions as he pleases; but this was not always so. In the olden times if a man expressed opinions that were contrary to those generally held by other people, he risked punishment, imprisonment and death. Freedom to believe as one chooses is one of the great blessings of modern times, and its growth and development belong largely to our own country. But even in this land of freedom, liberty of conscience was not always granted, as this story will show. The Quakers, or Friends as they were frequently called, were peace men ; they believed that all war and bloodshed were contrary to Christianity. They had often been persecuted in BISHOP CHRISTOPHER SOWER. I97 England because they refused to aid the government in time of war, and so when William Penn founded the Quaker colony of Philadelphia he decreed not only that there should be religious freedom in the settlement, but that no one should be molested because of his opinions on religious and civil matters. Reports of Penn's liberality traveled rapidly over Europe, and produced a great sensation, especially in Germany, where many people held doctrines similar to those of the Friends. Many of these Germans who believed in this " Gospel of Peace " emigrated to Pennsylvania, and among them was Christopher Sower and his little three-year-old son, also named Christopher. Christopher Sower was a man of good education. He had been graduated from the University of Berlinburg, and had studied medicine at Halle.. He made his home in Germantown, now a part of Philadelphia, where he built a large mansion. This house was frequently used as a meeting-house, since the upper story had movable partitions, which allowed the entire floor to be transformed into one large room. The Germans in America had great difificulty in getting any kind of reading matter that they could read, because most of the books brought into the colonies came from England and were printed in English. At an early date Christopher Sower imported from Germany a complete printing-press and printers' materials, with which he printed almanacs and other reading matter for the use of the German population of Pennsylvania and the other colonies. Not long after receiving this press Sower felt a great desire to print an edition of the Bible. He was greatly troubled by the growing disregard of the younger Germans for religion, and he felt that if they could purchase Bibles more easily they would be kept closer to the faith of their fathers. Hitherto no edition of the Bible had been printed in America in any of the lan- guages of Europe. John Eliot, the Puritan missionary to the 198 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. Indians, about a hundred years earlier, had translated into the Indian language and printed at Cambridge an edition of the Bible, but no English or German Bible had been printed in this country before Christopher Sower published his edition in 1743. Indeed, no English Bible was ever printed in America until after BISHOP SOWER GIVING BREAD TO THE POOR. the close of the American Revolution, because it was contrary to English law to print an English Bible in these colonies. But this chapter has to do particularly with the son, Chris- topher Sower, who was three years old when his father emigrated to America. In his boyhood he was quiet and retiring, fond of study, loved and respected by all. His education was directed by that famous and wise teacher, Christopher Dock, of whom it has been said that his notions of education and methods of BISHOP CHRISTOPHER SOWER. I99 teaching were " in many respects as advanced as those of the present day." He certainly was a man remarkable for foresight in his profession. When the young Christopher grew to manhood he became a minister of the German Baptist Society called Dunkers, and when he was just past thirty years of age he was made a bishop in that church. He also continued his father's printing business, and issued a second and a third edition of the large quarto Bible. The test of his devotion to the principles which he so strongly believed came upon the doctrine of peace and his opposition to all kinds of war. His faith was tried to the utmost; his wealth was taken away, his reputation and even his life were threatened on account of them. These trials came during the period of the American Revolution. He was at that time nearly sixty years < old, and his beard and hair, worn long in accordance with the practice of the clergy among the Dunkers, gave him a venerable appearance. He did not support the cause of England, but he opposed the progress of the war, because he believed that all war was wrong. Yet he did not carry his opposition so far as to prevent his being kind to the patriot soldiers and their families. Long years after his death he was spoken of as " the bread father," because of his liberal gifts of bread and provisions to suffering families. His generosity, however, did not prevent many of the colonists from regarding him with suspicion and distrust. He was accused of being a traitor and a spy, and was seized and placed under arrest. " On May 23, 1778, at ten o'clock at night," he wrote, '' a number of soldiers surrounded the house and took me from my bed. The night was very dark, and as I could not proceed fast enough for them they repeatedly prodded me with their bay- onets. The next day they stripped me entirely naked, but finally gave me an old shirt and ragged breeches, which scarcely 200 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. covered my shame, cut off my hair and beard, and smeared me over with red and black paint. They led me thus, bareheaded and barefooted, before the provost, and accused me of being a spy. On the morning of the twenty-seventh God moved the heart of General Muhlenberg to inquire concerning me, and he sent word that I should ap- peal to General Washing- ton. This I did, and thanks to Divine Provi- dence, through the kind assistance of General Miih- lenberg I was released, but not allowed to return to Germantown for a full month." Two months after his first arrest he was again seized because he had not complied with a proclama- tion of which he had never heard. All his property was taken except the clothes upon his back. I asked permission," he said, '* to keep a few medicines, for the use of my family, especially cer- tain preparations of my father's and my own, but I was refused. I received notice to quit my house, and was obliged to leave it." The following month the Government sold his personal property, comprising his printing establishment, his stock of sheets, books and merchandise, furniture, etc., together THE SECOND ARREST OF BISHOP SOWER. BISHOP CHRISTOPHER SOWER. 201 with his real estate, including house, farms and mills, though there was a legal restriction that confiscated real estate should not be sold until the youngest son had attained the age of twenty-one years. " Even their own council admitted that if I had not forfeited my life I had not forfeited my estate or property." Though he was reduced to poverty, he bore all with quiet resignation. He clung to the principles of his religion, which forbade him to resist evil or to make' use of the courts of law. Therefore, though he had been unlawfully deprived of his rights and property, he refused to bring a suit to recover them. He accepted the loss of all his property as a ** Heavenly dispensa- tion and trial from God," but he was sorely troubled that his good name should be soiled by such an atrocious epithet as traitor. He had done nothing to justify this odious accusation, and the government never attempted to prove it, but neither did they offer to clear him of it. In a paper presented to the Assembly of his brethren in faith he quietly asked : " If a man is openly declared a traitor, without cause, without a hearing or trial, when he was not absent and might have been heard, is it just to let him remain forever under that reproach? " It must not be supposed that Washington or any high military or civil authority was involved in this strange persecution of Bishop Sower, for it was all done by the small military powers of the locality. Christopher Sower never made any attempt to recover his property or his standing, but passed the remainder of his life, six years, in a small house which had been unoccupied by the owner, who kindly allowed him to have a shelter in it. He worked with his own hands at bookbinding, and thus provided himself with enough money to supply his simple needs. Two weeks before his death he walked twelve miles and preached at a meet- ing of his brethren, returning on foot the same day. He had 202 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. passed a blameless life of more than three score years. " Strange that it should befall him, the sage, the philosopher, and above all the defender of the supremacy of love and sympathy for all men, to endure the whole weight of a wicked, malevo- lent persecution, as though he were a convict proven guilty of crime." I XXXIV. HENRY LAURENS IN THE TOWER OF LONDON. Among the many heroic and patriotic sons of South Caroh'na, Henry Laurens easily takes high rank. He was a man of wealth, integrity and wisdom. He had a fine personal presence, and was a dignified and courteous gentleman. When he was a young man he lived several years in London, learning to be a merchant, and for more than twenty-five years he managed a large mercan- tile business in Charleston, South Carolina. He then retired from business, and again went to England, where he resided some years; and later he traveled in Europe, devoting himself to the education of his sons. When the troubles between the American colonies and England began, he came home and did everything he could to preserve peace between the two countries, but when King George paid no attention to petitions from this country, Henry Laurens threw off allegiance to Great Britain and became an ardent patriot. In the dark and gloomy summer of 1780 Henry Laurens was appointed minister to Holland. Congress wished him to borrow money in Holland and elsewhere in Europe to help carry on the war. He was acquainted with many of the leading men of Europe, and was held in high esteem by all. He sailed from Philadelphia in the packet Mercury, and had not been on the sea many days before he was captured by a British man-of-war and sent as a prisoner to England. After a hasty examination he was committed to the Tower of London on " suspicion of high treason." There in that ancient prison, seven centuries old, he was confined for a year and three months in two small 204 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. rooms, which together would measure about twenty feet square. During this long period his treatment was by no means creditable to the British government. The jailer's orders concerning him were strict and severe. He was to be confined as a close prisoner; to be locked up every night; to be in the custody of two wardens, who were not to suffer him to be out of their sight one moment, day or night, nor allow him to speak privately with any person. He was not given the use of pen and ink; no letters could be brought to him, nor were any allowed to go from him. At one time Mr. Laurens said to his jailer: "When- ever I caught a bird in Amer- ica I furnished a cage and victuals for it," but he, dur- ing the whole period while a prisoner, was compelled to find his own food, fuel, bed- ding, and even candles, and _Q:^^^/^^^y.^^^^^n<^ OAf^ also to pay rent. He was ill much of the time, but no medical attendance was provided, nor did he have any of the ordinary comforts of a sick-room. Richard Oswald, who afterward, with Mr. Laurens, signed the treaty of peace between the United States and Great Brit- ain, and other leading English statesmen, used their utmost endeavors to secure his release, but without success. Sometimes they made proposals to Mr. Laurens which he resented with much spirit. At one time it was said to him that if he would HENRY LAURENS IN THE TOWER OF LONDON. 20$ write " two or three lines to the ministers," and merely say that " he was sorry for what is past," a pardon would be granted. When advised to '* take time and weigh the matter properly in his mind," he instantly replied, " An honest man requires no time to give an answer when his honor is concerned." In the spring of 1781 his son John, a distinguished patriot and a hero of many brave deeds, was made special minister to France. Mr. Laurens was told that his son's appointment would be very injurious to his interests. Mr. Oswald advised him to urge his son to withdraw from the French court, but he replied that his son was of age and had a will of his own ; that he was a man of honor, and that while he loved his father dearly and would give his life for him, he would not sacrifice his honor to save his father's life, and that as his father he applauded him for it. When he had been in the prison a full year the governor of the Tower sent a man to collect from him £<^J los. as due to the two wardens for one year's attendance upon the prisoner. This claim was so ridiculous that Mr. Laurens could not help reply- ing with cutting satire : " This is the most extraordinary attempt I ever heard of! It is enough to provoke me to change my lodgings. I was sent to the Tower by the Secretaries of State, without money in my pockets (for aught they knew). Their lordships have never sup- plied me with a bit of beef or a bit of bread, nor inquired how or whether I subsisted. It is upwards of three months since I informed their lordships the fund which had, up to that time, supported me was nearly exhausted. I humbly prayed for leave to draw a bill on Mr. John Nutt, a London merchant who is in- debted to me, which they have been pleased to refuse by the most grating of all denials, a total silence; and now, sir, when it is known to everybody that I have no money, a demand of this nature is made for £()'] los. ! If their lordships will permit 206 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. me to draw for money when it is due, I will continue to pay my own expenses, so far as respects myself; but if I were possessed of as many guineas as would fill this room, I would not pay the wardens, whom I never employed, and whose attendance I shall be glad to dispense with. Attempts, sir, to tax men without their own consent, have involved this kingdom in a bloody seven- years' war. Upon the whole, sir, be pleased to deliver to the THE TOWER OF LONDON, governor my answer: 'The demand or application you have made appears to me to be extraordinary and unjust, and I will not comply with it.' " Somehow an account of this transaction got into the London newspapers. Many people refused to believe it, but the story was clearly shown to be true. The idea of the prisoner's chang- ing his lodgings greatly amused the people of London. His treatment was so severe, and his health so poor, that when some account of his wretched condition and want of proper care ap- HENRY LAURENS IN THE TOWER OF LONDON. 20/ peared in the public prints, so much fault was found with the government that the ministry were much alarmed. Governor Gore, who was in command of the Tower, was told that " if Mr. Laurens should die you will be indicted, for he has been neg- lected." The governor was greatly disturbed, and coming at once to Mr. Laurens, offered to send to the Secretaries of State any message which he should be pleased to write to them. Mr. Laurens replied: " The Secretaries of State, sir, do not want information; it is upwards of four months since they received my representation and prayer for the use of pen and ink, to draw a short bill for money. I have also been a man in authority, Governor Gore; I have treated British prisoners in a very different way from that which I have experienced. Their lordships have been fully acquainted with my conduct by British officers, and can give proof of this. I thought myself an humble man before I came here, but I now find I had mistaken myself. I am one of the proudest men upon earth ; I will not condescend to apply to their lordships again. The governor withdrew, and looked as if he was of my opinion, that I was a very proud and saucy chap. I was neither; I spoke not my own, but a language becoming the dignity of the United States. I was very sick; this is truth; but I was in no danger of starving. I might have had as much money as I wanted from Mr. Oswald or Mr. Manning; the lat- ter had a considerable balance of mine in hand. I had a large sum deposited in France, but I resolved to compel their lord- ships either to make proper provision for me, or to allow me the use of pen and ink to draw upon John Nutt, on whom only would I draw. In the evening the governor returned ; said the secre- taries had considered I should have the use of pen and ink. The next morning, October 30th, pen and ink were brought me, and taken away again the moment I had finished a draft on Mr. Nutt for fifty guineas. The bill was paid." 208 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. On the 25th of November, 1781, the news reached London that Cornwallis with his entire army had surrendered to Wash- ington. The dispatch was quickly carried to' the residence of Lord North. " The Prime Minister," said Germain, " received the news as he would have received a cannon ball in the breast. He threw his arms apart, he paced wildly up and down the room in the greatest agitation, exclaiming, * It is all over! It is all over After this the ministers were anxious to get rid of Mr. Lau- rens, but did not know how to bring about his release. He would not accept a pardon, and he could not be exchanged as a prisoner of war, because the charge against him was treason. The great Edmund Burke used all his influence in behalf of the prisoner, at first to mitigate the severity of his treatment, and afterward to secure his release. Mr. Laurens would not consent to any act which implied that he was a British subject. Finally it was proposed that he should be released on bail. In the document which was prepared to meet the case were the words, ** Our Sovereign Lord, the King." When these were read to Mr. Laurens, he replied in open court, " Not my sovereign." At one time the Duke of Richmond remarked to him, " Sup- pose we were to grant your country independence." " Grant, my Lord Duke! We Jiave independence. Who can take it from us? Great Britain may, if she pleases, acknowledge it." The Duke paused a moment and then said, " Well, Mr. Lau- rens, I will not dispute about a word. I will say acknowledge.'* Mr. Laurens was released on bail, to appear at court at the next Easter term. When the time for the court drew near he was discharged from all obligations to attend, and permitted, and in fact requested, to go to the Continent. He was startled at the idea of this clear release without an exchange, for he had always held himself to be a prisoner of war. Hence he replied " that he did not dare accept himself as a gift; and that as Con- HENRY LAURENS IN THE TOWER OF LONDON. 209 gress had once offered Lieutenant-General Burgoyne for him, he had no doubt of their now giving Lieutenant-General Earl Cornwallis for the same purpose." He was finally released, and went over to Paris. He was appointed one of the commissioners for the treaty of peace, and on the 30th of November, 1782, that treaty was made out and signed by five persons. The first signer represented the Govern- ment of Great Britain and the others the United States. The names were: Richard Oswald, John Adams, B. Franklin, John Jay and Henry Laurens. 14 XXXV. FARMER STEDMAN. The following charming story was published in Boston nearly seventy-five years ago, in a magazine called The Token. It is so beautiful in itself, and the story is so well told, that it is copied here entire. " During the period of the war of the Revolution, there re- sided, in the western part of Massachusetts, a farmer by the name of Stedman. He was a man of substance, descended from a very respectable English family, well educated, and distinguished for great firmness of character in general, and alike remarkable for inflexible integrity and steadfast loyalty to his king. Such was the reputation he sustained, that, even when the most violent antipathies against royalism swayed the community, it was still admitted on all hands, that Farmer Stedman, though a Tory, was honest in his opinions, and firmly believed them to be right. " The period came when Burgoyne was advancing from the north. It was a time of great anxiety with both the friends and foes of the revolution, and one which called forth their highest exertions. The patriotic militia flocked to the standard of .Gates and Stark, while many of the Tories resorted to the quar- ters of Burgoyne and Baum. Among the latter was Stedman. He had no sooner decided it to be his duty, than he took a kind farewell of his wife, a woman of uncommon beauty, gave his children, a twin boy and girl, a long embrace, then mounted his horse and departed. He joined himself to the unfortunate ex- pedition of Baum, and was taken, with other prisoners of war, by the victorious Stark. FARMER STEDMAN. 211 " He made no attempt to conceal his name or character, which were both soon discovered, and he was accordingly com- mitted to prison as a traitor. The jail in which he was confined was in the western part of Massachusetts, and nearly in a ruin- ous condition. The farmer was one night awakened from his sleep by several persons in his room. ' Come,' said they, * you can now regain your liberty; we have made a breach in the prison, through which you can escape.* To their astonishment Stedman utterly refused to leave his prison. In vain they ex- postulated with him ; in vain they represented to him that his life was at stake. His reply was, that he was a true man, and a subject of King George; and that he would not creep out of a hole at night, and sneak away from the rebels, to save his neck from the gallows. Finding it altogether fruitless to attempt to move him, his friends left him, with some expressions of spleen. " The time at length arrived for the trial of the prisoner. The distance to the place where the court was sitting was about sixty miles. Stedman remarked to the sheriff, when he came to attend him, that it would save some expense and inconven- ience, if he could be permitted to go alone and on foot. ' And suppose,' said the sheriff, ' that you should prefer your safety to your honor, and leave me to seek you in the British camp ? ' I had thought,' said the farmer, reddening with indignation, * that I was speaking to one who knew me.' ' I do know you, indeed,' said the sherifT; * I spoke but in jest; you shall have your way. Go, and on the third day I shall expect to see you at S . ' The farmer departed, and at the appointed time, he placed himself in the hands of the sheriff. ** I was now engaged as his counsel. Stedman insisted, be- fore the court, upon telling his whole story; and when I would have taken advantage of some technical points, he sharply rebuked me, and told me he had not employed me to prevari- cate, but only to assist him in telling the truth. 212 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. " I had never seen such a display of simple integrity. It was affecting to witness his love of holy, unvarnished truth, ele- vating him above every other consideration, and presiding in his breast as a sentiment even superior to the love of life. " I saw the tears more than once springing into the eyes of his judges. Never before, or since, have I felt such interest in a client. I pleaded for him as I would have pleaded for my own life. I drew tears, but I could not sway the judgment of stern men, controlled rather by a sense of duty, than the com- passionate promptings of humanity. Stedman was condemned. I told him there was a chance for pardon if he would ask for it. I drew up a petition and requested him to sign it ; but he refused. I have done,' said he, ' what I thought my duty. I can ask pardon of my God, and my king; but it would be hypocrisy to ask forgiveness of these men, for an action I should repeat, were I placed in similar circumstances. No! ask me not to sign that petition. If what you call the cause of American freedom re- quires the blood of an honest man, for a conscientious discharge of what he deemed his duty, let me be its victim. Go to my judges and tell them that I place not my fears nor my hopes in them.* It was in vain that I pressed the subject; and I went away in despair. THE FARMER GRASPED MY HAND. FARMER STEDMAN. 213 " In returning to my house, I accidentally called on an ac- quaintance, a young man of brilliant genius for painting. This led him frequently to make excursions into the country, for the purpose of sketching such subjects and scenes as were interesting to him. From one of these rambles he had just returned. I found him sitting at his easel, giving the last touches to a pic- ture. He asked my opinion of it. * It is a fine picture,' said I ; * is it a fancy piece ? or are they portraits ? ' ' They are por- traits,' said he; ' and save perhaps a little embellishment, they are, I think, striking portraits of the wife and children of your unfortunate client, Stedman. In the course of my rambles, I chanced to call at his house in H . I never saw a more beautiful group. The mother is one of a thousand; and the twins are a pair of cherubs.* Tell me,' said I, laying my hand on the picture, * tell me, are they true and faithful portraits of the wife and children of Stedman ? ' My earnestness made my friend stare. He assured me that, so far as might be permitted to judge of his own pro- duction, they were striking representations. I asked no further questions; I seized the picture, and hurried with it to the prison where my client was confined. I found him sitting, his face covered with his hands, and apparently wrung by keen emotion. I placed the picture in such a position that he could not fail to see it. I laid the petition on the little table by his side, and left the room. " In half an hour I returned. The farmer grasped my hand, while tears stole down his cheeks; his eye glanced first upon the picture, and then to the petition. He said nothing, but handed the latter to me. I took it and left the apartment. He had put his name to it. The petition was granted and Stedman was set at liberty." XXXVl. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS AND THE GAG LAW. John Quincy Adams was one of the great men of our nation. He was never a popular man; he had too much strength and decision of character for that, but he always acted up to his high ideal of what was right, let come what would. After he had been President of the United States he was elected a mem- ber of Congress and served in the House of Representatives for many years. When he was told that Massachusetts would be honored to have him represent her in the House, it was sug- gested that it would be a degradation for an ex-President to accept such a position. " No person could be degraded by serving the people as a Representative in Congress," Mr. Adams replied; "nor, in my opinion, would an ex-President of the United States be degraded by serving as a selectman of his town, if elected thereto by the people." He accepted the nom- ination, was elected, and as Representative performed the great- est work of his life. Mr. Adams entered Congress when the struggle between the North and the South over the slavery question was beginning. Many in the Northern states had for a long time believed that it was wrong to keep human beings in bondage. As years went by, more and more people adopted this belief, and anti-slavery societies were formed in all of the Northern states. The people of the South were equally determined not to give up their slaves, and they truly thought that work on the plantations could not be done successfully without slaves. They insisted that the North had no right to meddle in matters that concerned the JOHN QUINCY ADAMS AND THE GAG LAW. 215 Southern states only. Naturally a bitter controversy sprang up. In the House of Representatives those who sympathized with the conditions in the South were in the majority. They were influential men, and any one who dared to oppose them needed great coolness and courage. During the years 1836 and 1837, many petitions were sent to Congress upon the subject of slavery. Es- pecially did the Northern people urge that slavery should be abolished in the District of Columbia and in the Territories where the government , had supreme control. ' Most of these petitions . were presented to the House by Mr. Adams. Whether he believed in them or not, he always read them, because by the Constitution the peo- ple had the right of peti- tion, and hence they had. , the right to have their ^ (fVi/yy^ o<\>-i->vvc^ appeals read. <^ The Southern members believed that Congress had no right to regulate slavery. They declared that the House should not receive these petitions, and passed an act ordering that all peti- tions relating to the subject of slavery should be laid upon the table. This resolution was called the ** Gag Law," and, natu- rally, the House supposed that it would put an end to these petitions. But they continued to come, in even greater num- M c\/v^^^. 2l6 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. bers than before, and Mr. Adams presented every one. Excit- ing scenes followed; the House was continually in an uproar. The members shouted and stormed ; they laughed at Mr. Adams; they made fun of him ; they called him insane. Once a Repre- sentative, frothing at the mouth and with oaths, shrieked at the top of his voice, " Sir, this is not to be endured longer." "Treason! Treason!" screamed half a dozen members. " Expel the old scoundrel. Put him out. Do not let him dis- grace the House any longer!" Motions were made to expel Mr. Adams, and once he re- ceived a letter threatening him with assassination. His old associates in the North were opposed to him ; he could hardly find a person whom he could call a friend. He was old, and lonely, and sad. "It is the experience of all ages," he wrote in his diary, " that the people grow weary of old men. To be forsaken by all mankind seems to be the destiny that awaits my last days." The long struggle cost him deep anxiety and many sleepless nights; yet he stood at his post like a good soldier, and continued to do what he thought to be his duty, even though it made an enemy of every other member of the House. But, in fact, he was more than a match for them all. ''Though aged, he was iron of limb. None of the youth could cope with him ; . And the foes that he singly kept at bay, Outnumbered his thin hairs of silver grey." If his foes could taunt him, he could deride them in turn. No tongue was so keen and no wit was so quick as his, and his long experience in all branches of the work of the government made him familiar with every point of law. In spite of his annoyances he frequently made for himself a good deal of amusement. It must be admitted that he delighted to exasperate his opponents and keenly enjoyed their discom- JOHN QUINCY ADAMS AND THE GAG LAW. 21/ fiture when they were worsted in the fight. A well-known story- illustrates this. One day after reading a long list of petitions, he said that he had still another, but he did not know whether he ought to present it without the consent of the Speaker of the House. The Speaker inquired the character of the petition. Mr. Adams said that the petition appeared to corne from twenty- two slaves. Instantly everyone became attentive. The Southern mem- bers grew excited. A petition from slaves! Slaves were not persons in the estimation of the South; they had no right to make petitions! John Quincy Adams had disgraced himself and the House by suggesting that he present a petition from slaves asking for the abolition of slavery. " Expel him! Expel him!" they cried, and a motion was made to censure him. When Mr. Adams could make himself heard he ably defended himself, saying at the end of his speech that they were mistaken in what they supposed to be the contents of the petition, " since the prayer was that slavery should not be abolished!" This sarcasm did not quiet the feelings of the indignant members, but it placed them in a ludicrous position, and the matter was dropped. The motion to censure Mr. Adams was never taken up, but the House by a large majority voted to lay " the whole subject on the table, forever." This was really a great victory for Mr. Adams, and in his joy he wrote, " Blessed, forever blessed, be the name of God ! " Mr. Adams' enemies, hating him intensely though they did, were forced to admire his courage, honesty, and ability. The House was always full when the " Old Man Eloquent " spoke. At one time a difficulty arose in electing a Speaker on the open- ing of Congress. For three days there seemed to be no way out of the dilemma; then Mr. Adams rose and addressed the House. 2l8 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. A wild storm of applause followed, and the members at once voted that he should preside over them until a Speaker could be chosen. He died in the harness, as was fitting that he should. One day he started to rise as the Speaker of the House was about to take the vote. "Stop! Stop! Mr. Adams!" somebody called, thinking that the old man was going to speak. Instead, he fell insensible, and two days later he died. i XXXVII. FRANCIS PARKMAN. Over a half century ago a Harvard University sophomore made a great resolve ; he would write the story of the struggle between the English and the French for the possession of North America. If he was to do this well — and it was his nature to do everything thoroughly that he undertook- — he must search libraries in Europe and America with painstaking care. Thou- sands of dusty manuscripts, musty documents, and yellowed letters must be overturned. He must acquaint himself with Indian life and customs; he must know the forests as well as the city streets; he must study men, their deeds, their thoughts. Francis Parkman was well fitted to do the work he had under- taken. He liked men and he enjoyed the pleasures of social life. He sought activity, and was never happier than when tramping through the forests or paddling on the streams. He delighted in the crack of the rifle and the clash of arms. The wild, rough life of the frontiersman appealed to him as strongly as the delib- erations in the council chambers of the nations, or the wit and small talk of the drawing-room. Twenty years he allowed him- self for his work; forty years passed before the last page was written. The trials and victories of these years make up our story. The Indians occupied so prominent a place in this struggle between two great nations that Parkman felt that he must thor- oughly know their ways. This knowledge could not be found in books. Even if it could, Parkman would not have been satis- fied to get his knowledge at second-hand. So, with his cousin, 220 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. he set out for the West soon after beiitg graduated. Railroad, steamboat and stage coach were used in the two-weeks' journey to St. Louis. Eight days more were taken in reaching Kansas City, at that time on the outer edge of civih'zation. Beyond was an almost unexplored wilderness. A company of pioneers had crossed to Oregon ; a few Spanish settlements were scattered over the vast territories of California and New Mex- ico; here and there could be found a small fort or trading-post. Otherwise the whole region between the Missouri River and the Pacific Ocean was oc- cupied only by the red men. They had been un- touched by civilization. Their thoughts, their cus- toms, their life were little different from those of the Indians who played so large a part in the wars a hundred years before. Parkman joined a party of Indians who were going beyond the Black Hills to hunt buffaloes. For a whole summer he lived their life, slept in their tents, ate their food, endured their hardships. Over treacherous paths and through almost impass- able forests he rode all day, and at night, tired and exhausted, would lie down on damp ground, sometimes without a blanket. Such hardships were more than Parkman could endure, accus- tomed though he was to violent exercise. Little by little, his health broke down; he afterward said: " I was in a tolerably FRANCIS PARKMAN. FRANCIS PARKMAN. 221 fair way of atoning for my love of the prairies by resting there forever." Frequently in the morning he was lifted into the saddle by his guide, and rode, holding fast to the pommel, to keep from reeling. Parkman outdid even the savage, however, in his ability to endure without flinching. It was necessary for him not to show his illness, and so well was he able to hide his sufferings that the Indians thought him well and strong. Indians have no patience with physical weakness, and Parkman knew that the moment they saw that he hindered their progress or pleasure, some war- rior would turn and bury his tomahawk in his head. To leave the party in that rough and almost trackless country, overrun by fierce hostile tribes, would also be certain death. So he kept on day after day until the hunting excursion was over and the party returned. When he reached civilization Parkman had a thorough knowledge of all phases of Indian character, but his health was gone for life. When a boy, Parkman had mapped out his life to be one of "action and death in battle." Now everything was changed, and he must pass his life shut up in a darkened chamber, at times suffering great pain. His whole nature craved activity, and this illness was the hardest trial that he could endure. At one time while with the Indians he thought, " it is better to die here, in the saddle to the last, than to stifle in the hot air of a sick chamber; and a thousand times better than to drag out life as many have done, in the helpless inaction of lingering dis- ease." To become an uncomplaining invalid required a very different kind of courage from that which he showed during his life with the Indians. It is ever far easier to do brave deeds, spurred on by the excitement of danger, the stirring blast of a trumpet or the cheers of a crowd, than to be heroic in secret. With the sublimest courage Parkman set out to make himself over again, to endure idleness in patience and with cheerfulness. 222 AMERICAN HEROES AND HEROISM. For years Parkman's eyesight was so poor that he could not bear a ray of direct sunlight, and the doctors warned him that any mental work would bring on insanity. How under such circumstances could he carry out his plans for historical writing? If Parkman had followed the doctors' directions not one book would have been written; but in this one matter alone here- fused to carry out their instructions. At times, unable to read a word himself, he would listen carefully while some one read to him the documents that trained copyists had transcribed in European libraries. With closed eyes he would take notes on paper placed in a specially constructed frame, having wires stretched across so that the lines of writing could be kept straight. Frequently his reader would be only a high-school pupil whose pronunciation of French was as trying as it was amusing. One short half hour was as long a time as it was safe for him to work. Then, perhaps, several days would go by before the reading could be repeated. When he began to write, six lines a day was the most that he could do. " Under the most favorable conditions," as he himself said, ** it was a slow and doubtful navigation, beset with reefs and breakers, demanding a constant lookout and a constant throwing of the lead." When Parkman's eyesight improved sufficiently to permit him to read, his work was much easier, but even then progress was very slow. For five minutes at a time he could use his eyes without injury. But five minutes is a small part of twenty-four hours, and with a little careful management he discovered that by reading one minute and resting one minute he could work a half hour, and could repeat this process three or four times a day. Thus he labored on, year after year, surmounting ob- stacles that would have been complete barriers to success for most men. When he could not write history he wrote a novel. When he could not write he turned to his garden and became FRANCIS PARKMAN. 223 SO skilled in raising flowers that he was elected a member of the Massachusetts Horticultural Society. When he was sixty-five years old he completed " Montcalm and Wolfe," the last of the series of eleven volumes of the work that he had set for himself forty years before. Nowhere in them can any evidence of his illness be found. If one knew nothing about the circumstances under which these books were written, one would think that they were the work of a strong man, full of life and fire. Parkman had accomplished his purpose and much more- — he had conquered himself. The battle was not won all at once; the mastery over self came after many struggles, but victory was sure and complete. Who can deny that his heroism was greater than that of " the giants " in the world's history? Fran- cis Parkman proved the truth of the proverb that " he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city." !Vl/»YrA t9U3