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A fellow-feeling that is sure

To make the outcast bless his door;
A heritage, it seems to me,

A king might wish to hold in fee.

Oh, rich man's son, there is a toil
That with all others level stands:
Large charity doth never soil,

But only whiten soft, white hands, -
This is the best crop from thy lands;
A heritage, it seems to me,

Worth being rich to hold in fee.

Oh, poor man's son ! scorn not thy state;
There is worse weariness than thine

In merely being rich and great :

Toil only gives the soul to shine,
And makes rest fragrant and benign;
A heritage, it seems to me,

Worth being poor to hold in fee.

Both heirs to some six feet of sod,

Are equal in the earth at last;
Both children of the same dear God,
Prove title to your heirship vast
By record of a well-filled past ;

A heritage, it seems to me,

Well worth a life to hold in fee.

DEFINITIONS. - Hĕr'it age, that which is inherited, or taken by descent,

from an ancestor. Sat'ed, surfeited, glutted. Hinds, peasants, countrymen. Ad judged', decided, determined.

having healthful qualities, wholesome.

Be nign' (pro. be nin'),

NOTES. To hold in fee, means to have as an inheritance.

Prove title.

That is, to prove the right of ownership.



Jael unbarred the door and let us in. When she had closed it again securely, she mounted guard behind it with something that looked very like my father's pistols, though I would not discredit her, among our peaceful society, by positively stating the fact.

"Bravo," said John, as we stood all together in the barricaded house, and heard the threatening murmur of voices and feet outside. "Bravo, Jael. The wife of Heber the Kenite was no braver woman than you."

"I have done all as thee bade me-thee art a sensible lad, John Halifax. We are secure, I think."

Secure? bolts and bars secure against fire? For that was threatening us now.

"They can't mean it

surely they can't mean it," said John, as the cry of "burn 'em out" rose louder and louder.

But they did mean it. From the attic window we watched them light torch after torch, sometimes throwing one at the house — but it fell harmless against the stanch oaken door, and blazed itself out on our stone steps. All it did was to show more plainly than even daylight had shown, the gaunt, ragged forms and pinched faces, furious with famine.

John, as well as I, recoiled at that miserable sight.

"I'll speak to them," he said. "Unbar the window, Jael;" and before I could hinder, he was leaning right "Halloa, there!"


At his loud and commanding voice a wave of upturned faces surged forward, expectant.


My men, do you know what you are about? to burn down a gentleman's house is hanging."

"Not a Quaker's. Nobody'll get hanged for burning out a Quaker!"

"That is true enough," muttered Jael between her teeth. "We must e'en fight, as Mordecai's people fought, hand to hand, until they slew their enemies.”

"Fight," repeated John, half to himself, as he stood at the now closed window, against which more than one blazing torch began to rattle. "Fight with these? What are you doing, Jael?"

For she had taken down a large book-the last book in the house she would have taken under less critical circumstances, and with it was trying to stop up a broken pane.

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"No, my good Jael, not this;" and he carefully replaced the volume that volume in which he might have read, as day after day, and year after year, we Christians generally do read, such plain words as these: "Love your enemies"; "Bless them that curse you"; "Pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you.

A minute or two John stood with his hand on the book, thinking. Then he touched me on the shoulder.

"Phineas, I'm going to try a new plan-at least, one so old that it's almost new. Whether it succeeds or no, you'll bear me witness to your father that I did it for the best, and did it because I thought it right. Now for it." To my horror, he threw up the window, and leaned out. "My men, I want to speak to you.”


He might as well have spoken to the roaring sea. The only answer was a shower of missiles, which missed their aim.

The rioters were too far off


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our spiked iron rail

ings, eight feet high or more, being a barrier which none

had yet ventured to climb.

stone hit John on the chest.

But at length one random

I pulled him in, but he declared he was not hurt. Terrified, I implored him not to risk his life.


Life is not always the first thing to be thought of," said he, gently. "Don't be afraid I shall come to no harm. I must do what I think right, if it is to be done."

John ran downstairs, and, before I guessed his purpose, had unbolted the hall door, and stood on the flight of steps, in full view of the mob.

The sight fairly confounded them. Even I felt that for the moment he was safe. They were awed paralyzed by his daring.

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But the storm raged too fiercely to be lulled, except for one brief minute. A confusion of voices burst out afresh :

"Who are you?"-"It's one o' the Quakers."-"No, he isn't."—"Burn 'im, anyhow."-"Touch 'im if ye dare."

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John stood his ground. Once a torch was flung at him - he stooped and picked it up. I thought he was going to hurl it back again, but he did not; he only threw it down, and stamped it out safely with his foot. This simple action had a wonderful effect on the crowd.

One big fellow advanced to the gate, and called John by his name.

"Is that you, Jacob Baines? I am sorry to see you here."

"Be ye, sir?"

"What do you want?"


Naught wi' thee. We want Abel Fletcher. Where is he?"

"I shall certainly not tell you."

As John said this, again the noise arose, and again Jacob Baines seemed to have power to quiet the rest.

John Halifax never stirred. Evidently he was pretty well known. I caught many a stray sentence, such as: “Don't hurt the lad."" He were kind to my lad, he were." "No, he be a real gentleman."-"No, he came here as poor as we." And the like. At length, one voice, sharp and shrill, was heard above the rest:

"I say, young man, didst ever know what it was to be pretty nigh famished?"

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The answer, so brief, so unexpected, struck a great hush into the throng. Then the same voice cried: "Speak up, man. You be one o' us."


"No, I am not one of you. I'd be ashamed to come in the night and burn my master's house down."

I expected an outbreak, but none came. They listened, as it were, by compulsion, to the clear, manly voice that had not in it one shade of fear.

"All be

"What do you do it for?" John continued. cause he would not sell you, or give you, his wheat.


SO - it was his wheat, not yours. May not a man do what he likes with his own?"

The argument seemed to strike home. There is always a lurking sense of justice in a mob.

"Don't you see how foolish you were? You all know Mr. Fletcher; he is not a man to be threatened. Nor am I one to be threatened, neither. The first one of you

who attempted to break into Mr. Fletcher's house, I

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