"And the money he made, whatever it be, He carried straight home to mother and me; No matter about his rags, he said, If only he kept us clothed and fed. "And he did it, sir, trudging through rain and cold, In the paper next morning as “leader” ran Did nobly the duty he had to do— ONE OF THE HEROES EBEN E. REXFORD Hark! through the wild night's darkness rings out a terrible cry, And the woman shudders to hear it in the room up close to the sky; "Fire!" in accents of terror, and voices the cry repeat, And the fire-bells join in the clamor out in the stormy street. "God grant we are safe, my darling!" she says to the child in her arms, While the voices far down in the darkness add to the bell's alarms; Then she thinks of the two little children who are sleeping peacefully near, And "God pity the people in danger!" she adds with a thrill of fear. The voices ring louder and louder. She hears the swift tread of feet And the sound of engines rumbling below in the stormy street. It must be the fire is near us!" She listens, a step on the stair, Then the door is flung wide, and beyond it she sees the red flames' glare! "Give me the child!" cries the fireman. "There's not a moment to spare!" The flames like a glittering serpent are writhing up the stair. "No, I will carry my baby!" and then she points to the bed Where the light from the hall shines brightly over a golden head. One little head on the pillow-one only-the fireman sees, With flossy curls stirring about it in the breath of the fiery breeze. He lifts the child, while the other is cuddled away from sight, And springs down the stair where the flame-hounds snarl after their prey in its flight. On, on, through the fire that leaps round him as a swimmer breasts the wave, Scorched and blind and breathless, to find escape or a grave! On through the fiery whirlpool till at last he gains the street, Thank God! and lays down his burden safe at the mother's feet. "One! only one?" she cries wildly. "You have left the other to die!" Oh, the terrible, terrible anguish that rings in the mother's cry! "I will save you, my child, or die with you!" and maddened by love's despair, She puts her babe from her bosom, and springs toward the flame-wreathed stair. ONE OF THE HEROES 69 “You shall not go!" he tells her, and holds her back from death; "I left your child-I will save it-if I can." Then catching his breath For the terrible task before him, he leaps up the lurid way. 'God help him!" the awed crowd whispers. his death," they say. "He goes to Moments that seem like ages go by and he comes not back. The flames leap higher and higher; the frail walls sway and crack. "Oh, my lost little child!" cries the mother, forgetting the babes at her breast. In this moment of awful anguish she loveth the lost child best. Up from the crowd, all breathless with hope and doubt and fear, Goes a cry: "Thank God, he's coming with the child!" and cheer on cheer Rings through the night, blending strangely with the wind and the wild flames' roar, As out of the tottering building the fireman springs once more. Straight to the mother he staggers with the rescued child, and cries: “I left him, and I have saved him!" and the hero looks out of his eyes; Then he falls at her feet; they crowd round him, and lift his drooping head. "I-saved-the-child," he whispers—a gasp-and the hero is dead. MAXIMS TO GUIDE THE YOUNG Never be idle. If your Keep good company or none. hands cannot be usefully employed, attend to the cultivation of your mind. Always speak the truth. Make few promises. Live up to your engagements. When you speak to a person, look him in the face. Good company and good conversation are the very sinews of virtue. Good character is above all things else. Never listen to loose or idle conversation. You had better be poisoned in your blood than in your principles. Your character cannot be essentially injured except by your own acts. If any one should speak evil of you, let your life be so virtuous that none will believe him. |