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twg_000000046900 | pounded the defences into a deplorable condition. Fort Trinidad, an important position, was about to be assaulted, the walls having been well-nigh beaten down by the fire of the enemy. Cochrane however, with an immense quantity of sandbags, palisades, and barrels, made it pretty secure. But he did a cleverer thing even than this. There was a piece of steep | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046901 | rock, up which the besiegers would have to climb. This he covered with grease, so as to make it difficult to get a foothold, and planks with barbed hooks were placed ready to catch those who were rash enough to seek their aid. The assault was delivered--up the rock came the French, and--down they tumbled in dozens and hundreds. Those | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046902 | who caught hold of the planks were hooked; and, to crown all, a heavy fire was poured into them by the British. During the siege the Spanish flag was shot away whilst a heavy cannonade was going on; but Cochrane, though the bullets were whistling about in every direction, calmly stepped down into the ditch, and rescued the flag. [Illustration: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046903 | LORD COCHRANE RESCUING THE FLAG.] When he was not fighting his country's battles at sea, he was besieging Parliament to bring about reforms in the Navy. This naturally brought him a good many enemies amongst rich and powerful people, who were making plenty of money out of the Government, and doing nothing for it. So, when these persons had a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046904 | chance of bringing a charge of conspiracy against him, they were right glad of the opportunity; and in the end Cochrane was sent to prison. Some there were who believed in his honour and uprightness. His wife was in all his trials a very tower of strength to him. The electors of Westminster, who had sent him to Parliament, never | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046905 | ceased to have faith in his truth and honour, and re-elected him when still in prison. Yet, for all this, it was between forty and fifty years before his innocence was completely proved! In , however, he was restored to his honours by her Majesty the Queen; and in he was made a Rear Admiral of England. A ROUGH DIAMOND | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046906 | THAT WAS POLISHED. THE STORY OF JOHN CASSELL. "I were summat ruff afore I went to Lunnon," said John Cassell. He had called to see his friend Thomas Whittaker, who was staying at Nottingham, and John was announced as "the Manchester carpenter". He was dressed on the occasion in a suit of clothes which a Quaker friend had given him; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046907 | but Cassell being tall and thin, and the Quaker short and stout, they did not altogether fit! The trousers were too short, and the hat too big; accordingly, John's legs came a long way through the trousers, and his head went a good way in at the top. "It was something like taking a tin saucepan with the bottom out | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046908 | and using it as a scabbard for a broad sword," remarked one who knew him. He had on an old overcoat, and a basket of tools was thrown over his shoulder with which to earn his food in case temperance lecturing failed. When John remarked that he was "summat ruff," the gentleman at whose house Mr. Whittaker was staying nearly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046909 | had a fit; and after he had at length recovered his gravity he ejaculated, "Well, I would have given a guinea to have seen you before you did go". Yet John Cassell was a diamond--though at that time the roughest specimen one could come across from the pit's mouth to the Isle of Dogs. His ideas were clear cut; he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046910 | had confidence in himself, he meant to make a name in the world,--and he _did_. John Cassell was born in Manchester in . His father, the bread-winner of the family, had the misfortune to meet with an injury which entirely disabled him, and from the effects of which he died when John was quite young. His mother worked hard for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046911 | her own and her son's support, and had little time left to look very particularly to the education of her boy. He, however, grew up strong and hardy. It is true that when he ought to have been at school he was often at play, or seeing something of the world, its sights and festivities, on his own account. True, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046912 | also, that he tumbled into the river, and nearly ended his career at a very early age. Still he survived his river catastrophe; and, though he gained little earning, possessed such a good and retentive memory, and was so observant, that his mind became stored with vivid impressions of the scenes and surroundings of his youth, which he related with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046913 | great effect in after-life. He had, of course, to begin work at an early age. First of all, he went into a cotton factory, and later to a velveteen factory; then, having a taste for carpentering, he took to it as a trade, though he was at best but a rough unskilled workman, tramping about the country, and doing odd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046914 | jobs wherever he could get them. One day John Cassell was working at the Manchester Exchange when he was persuaded to go and hear Dr. Grindrod lecture on temperance. The lecture seems to have bitten itself into John's mind; for a little later on, in July, , after hearing Mr. Swindlehurst lecture, he signed the pledge. That was the unsuspected | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046915 | turning-point of carpenter John's life. After this he attended meetings and took an active part on the platform, and became known as "the boy lecturer". Though he was dressed in fustian, and wore a workman's apron, he spoke effectively, and his words went to the hearts of his hearers. His originality of style, too, pleased the audiences of working people | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046916 | whom he addressed. In John Cassell made his first move towards London. He worked his way to town, and lectured on the road. He carried a bell, and with that brought together his audiences. At times he was very roughly handled by the crowd; yet this had no effect upon him, except to make him the more determined. His clothes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046917 | became threadbare, his boots worn out, his general appearance dilapidated; but he got help from a few good people, who saw the hero beneath his rags. He was three weeks accomplishing the journey; and when he arrived in London spent the first day in search of work, which he failed to obtain. In the evening, seeing that a temperance meeting | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046918 | was to be held in a hall off the Westminster Road, he went to it; and asked to be allowed to speak. Some of those on the platform viewed with distrust the gaunt, shabby, travel-stained applicant. But he would take no denial, and soon won cheers from the audience. When he stopped short, after a brief address, someone shouted "Go | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046919 | on". "How can a chap go on when he has nothing to say?" came the ready reply. That night he had no money in his pocket to pay for a bed; so he walked the streets of London through the weary hours till dawn of day. Other temperance meetings he addressed; for his heart and mind were full of that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046920 | subject. After one of the meetings a gentleman questioned him as to his means; and, finding the straits he was in, asked if he were not disheartened. "No," replied John; "it is true I carry all my wealth in my little wallet, and have only a few pence in my pocket; but I have faith in God I shall yet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046921 | succeed." Struck by his manifest sincerity, the gentleman introduced him next day to a friend who took a warm interest in the temperance cause. "Which wouldst thou prefer, carpentering or trying to persuade thy fellow-men to give up drinking, and to become teetotalers?" he asked. Without hesitation John Cassell replied:-- "The work of teetotalism." "Then thou shalt have an opportunity, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046922 | and I will stand thy friend." John Cassell now went forth as a disciple of the temperance cause. Remembering his experiences on the way to London he furnished himself with a watchman's rattle, with which he used to call together the people of the villages he visited. A temperance paper thus speaks of him in :-- "John Cassell, the Manchester | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046923 | carpenter, has been labouring, amidst many privations, with great success in the county of Norfolk. He is passing through Essex--(where he addressed the people, among other places, from the steps leading up to the pulpit of the Baptist chapel, with his carpenter's apron twisted round his waist)--on his way to London. He carries his watchman's rattle--an excellent accompaniment of temperance | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046924 | labour." Cassell had a great regard for Thomas Whittaker. It was an address given by this gentleman which had first made him wish to become a public man. When he called on Mr. Whittaker in Nottingham, as already related, after some conversation had taken place, he remarked:-- "I should like to hear thee again, Tom". "Well," remarked Whittaker as a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046925 | joke, "you can if you go with me to Derby." John accepted the invitation forthwith, much to his friend's chagrin, who was bothered to know what to do with him; for he was under the impression that some members of the family where he expected to lodge would not give a very hearty welcome to this rough fellow. This is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046926 | Mr. Whittaker's narrative of the sequel:-- "We walked together to Derby that day. At the meeting he spoke a little, and pleased the people. When the meeting was over, he said:-- "'Can't I sleep with you?' "'Well,' I said, 'I have no objection; but, you know, _I_ am only a lodger.' "However, go with me he _would_, and _did_. That | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046927 | was the man. When John made up his mind to do a thing he did it; and to that feature in his character, no doubt, much of his future success may be attributed. The gentleman at whose house he met me at Nottingham, and who was ashamed of him, subsequently became his servant, and touched his hat to him; and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046928 | John has pulled up at my own door in his carriage, with a liveried servant, when I lived near to him in London." John Cassell was now in the thick of the fight. In those days the opposition to the Gospel of Temperance was keen and bitter. Sometimes there were great disturbances at the meetings, sometimes he was pelted with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046929 | rubbish, at times he did not know where to turn for a night's lodging. It was, on the whole, a fierce conflict; but John was nothing daunted. It is, of course, impossible to sum up the amount of a man's influence. John Cassell scattered the seed of temperance liberally. Here is a case showing how one of the grains took | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046930 | root, and grew up to bear important fruit. The Rev. Charles Garrett, the celebrated teetotal President of the Wesleyan Conference, writing several years after John Cassell's death, says:-- "I signed the pledge of total abstinence in , after hearing a lecture on the subject by the late John Cassell. I have therefore tried it for more than thirty years. It | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046931 | has been a blessing to me, and has made me a blessing to others." How to cure the curse of drink, what to give in its place when the pleasures of the glass were taken away--that was the problem which many have tried to solve. None more successfully than John Cassell. At a meeting in Exeter Hall he suddenly put | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046932 | a new view before his audience. "I have it!" he exclaimed. "The remedy is education. Educate the working men and women, and you have a remedy for the crying evil of the country. Give the people mental food, and they will not thirst after the abominable drink which is poisoning them." He had hitherto been doing something to assist the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046933 | temperance cause by the sale of tea and coffee, and he now turned his attention to the issue of publications calculated to benefit the cause. Having, at the age of twenty-four, married Mary Abbott, he became possessed of additional means for carrying out his publishing schemes. Cheap illustrated periodicals began to issue from the press under his superintendence, and copies | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046934 | were multiplied by the hundred thousand. He never forgot that he had been a working man, and one of the first publications he started was called _The Working Man's Friend_. It is not necessary to say more. Though John Cassell died comparatively young--he was only forty-eight when his death took place in --he had done a grand life's work; and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046935 | the soundness of his judgment is shown by the fact that works which he planned retain their hold upon the people to this day. John Cassell had his ambitions, but they were of a very simple kind. "I started in life with one ambition," he said, "and that was to have a clean shirt every day of my life; this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046936 | I have accomplished now for some years; but I have a second ambition, and that is to be an MAP., and represent the people's cause; then I shall be public property, and you may do what you like with me." This latter desire he would doubtless have realised but for his early decease. "A BRAVE, FEARLESS SORT OF LASS." THE | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046937 | STORY OF GRACE DARLING. She was not much of a scholar, she could not spell as well as a girl in the third standard, she lived a quiet life quite out of the busy world; and yet Grace Darling's name is now a household word. Let us see how that has come about. William Darling, Grace's father, was keeper of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046938 | the Longstone Lighthouse on the Farne Islands, off the coast of Northumberland. Longstone is a desolate rock, swept by the northern gales; and woe betide the ship driven on its pitiless shores! Mr. Darling and his family had saved the lives of many persons who had been shipwrecked ere that memorable day of which I will tell you. On the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046939 | night of the 5th September, , the steamer _Forfarshire_, bound from Hull to Dundee, was caught in a terrific storm off the Farne Islands. Her machinery became damaged and all but useless, and the vessel drifted till the sound of the breakers told sixty-three persons composing the passengers and crew that death was near at hand. [Illustration: Longstone Lighthouse.] The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046940 | captain made every effort to run the ship in between the Islands and the mainland, but in vain; and about three o'clock on the morning of the 6th September the vessel struck on the rock with a sickening crash. A boat was lowered, into which nine of the passengers got safely, whilst others lost their lives in attempting to do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046941 | so. These nine were saved during the day by a passing vessel. The _Forfarshire_ meantime was the sport of the waves, which threatened every minute to smash her in pieces. Before long, indeed, one wave mightier than the rest lifted her bodily on to the sharp rocks and broke her in two. Her after-part was swept away, and the captain, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046942 | his wife, and those who were in that portion of the vessel, were drowned. The fore-part meantime remained fast on the rocks, lashed by the furious billows. That morning Grace was awakened by the sound of voices in distress, and dressing quickly she sought her father. They listened, and soon their worst fears were confirmed. Near at hand, but still | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046943 | quite beyond reach of help, could be heard the despairing shrieks of the shipwrecked crew. To attempt to rescue them seemed quite out of the question. That was apparent at once to William Darling, skilful boatman though he was, and brave as a lion. The sea was so terrific that it was ten chances to one against a boat being | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046944 | able to keep afloat. But Grace entreated: "Father, we must not let them perish. I will go with you in the boat, and God will give us success." In vain Mrs. Darling urged that the attempt was too perilous to be justified, and reproached Grace for endeavouring to persuade her father to run such unwarrantable risks. William Darling saw plainly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046945 | how many were the chances against success. Even if the boat was not at once swamped, two persons alone, and one of them only a girl, were insufficient for the work; for, supposing they reached the wreck, they would probably be too exhausted to get back. No, duty did not demand such an act; and for a time he declined | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046946 | to put out. But Grace was quite firm. This girl of three and twenty, never very robust, had marvellous strength of will; and, her mind being set on attempting the rescue, she prevailed over both her father's judgment and her mother's entreaties; and into that awful sea the boat was at length launched. Though every billow threatened to engulf the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046947 | frail craft, yet it nevertheless rode through the mountainous waves and drew near the rock where the helpless men and women were standing face to face with death. When it was sufficiently close to the shore William Darling sprang out to help the weary perishing creatures, whilst Grace was left to manage the boat unaided. It was now that her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046948 | courage was put to the severest test. At this critical moment the lives of her father and all the survivors depended upon her judgment and skill. Well did her past experience and cool nerve then serve her. Alone and unaided she kept the boat in a favourable position in the teeth of that pitiless gale; and as soon as her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046949 | father signalled to her she waited for an opportune moment and rowed in. Ere long, in spite of the fury of wind and wave, they had got all aboard, and rowed back in safety to the lighthouse. The passengers who were rescued told the story of Grace's courage; and soon the tale was in every newspaper. George Darling, Grace's brother, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046950 | speaking of this deed fifty years after, says: "She always considered, as indeed we all did, that far too much was made of what she did. She only did what was her duty in the circumstances, brought up among boats, so to speak, and used to the sea as she was. Still she was always a brave, fearless sort of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046951 | lass, and very religious too--there's no doubting that. But it was never her wish that people should make so much of what she did." A great deal was made of the deed certainly, but surely not too much. A subscription was set on foot, and presented to her, besides innumerable presents. Four years later Grace died, much lamented by all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046952 | who knew her. Doubtless many a time, before and since, faith as strong, and bravery as heroic, have been shown, and have passed unrecorded and unnoticed by men. But duty performed in simple faith and without expectation of reward brings inward peace and joy greater than any outward recognition can give. * * * * * GRACE DARLING THE SECOND. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046953 | Whilst these pages were passing through the press the news came of the bravery of another Grace Darling in a far-off land.[] [Footnote : See letter of Rev. Ellis of Rangoon in _Times_ of 25th May, .] Miss Darling was head mistress of the Diocesan School at Amherst near Rangoon, and her pupils were bathing in the sea when one | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046954 | of them was bitten in the leg by a shark or alligator. Alarmed by this terrible shock she lost her balance and was being carried away by the tide when her sister and the head mistress both went to the rescue. Miss Grace Darling had succeeded in getting hold of her when she too was bitten and disappeared under the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046955 | water. The sister behind cried out for help, at the same time seizing the head mistress and vainly endeavouring to keep her head above water. In the end some native sailors came to the rescue and dragged all three out, but Grace Darling and the favourite pupil whom she had endeavoured to save were both dead. A FRIEND OF LEPERS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046956 | THE STORY OF FATHER DAMIEN. Of all forms of disease leprosy is perhaps the most terrible. The lepers of whom we read in the Bible were obliged to dwell alone outside the camp; and even king Uzziah, when smitten with leprosy, mighty monarch though he was, had to give up his throne and dwell by himself to the end of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046957 | his days. In the far-off Sandwich (or Hawaiian) Islands in the Pacific Ocean there are many lepers; but the leprosy from which they suffer is of a more fatal kind than that which is spoken of in the Bible. So as to prevent the spread of the disease, the lepers are sent to one of the smaller islands, where there | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046958 | is a leper village, in which those who are afflicted remain until their death. When a shipload of these poor creatures leaves Honolulu for the little Isle of Molokai there is great wailing by the relatives of those sent away, for they know the parting is final. The disease is not slow in running its course. After about four years | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046959 | it usually attacks some vital organ, and the leper dies. Until the year the lot of the lepers on their help them, that all hearts were turned in love towards him. He first made the discovery when he had been at Molokai about ten years. He happened to drop some boiling water on his foot, and it gave him no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046960 | pain. Then he knew he had the leprosy. Yet he was not cast down when he became aware of the fact, for he had anticipated it. "People pity me and think me unfortunate," he remarked; "but I think myself the happiest of missionaries." In , sixteen years after landing at Molokai, Father Damien died. When he was nearing his end, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046961 | he wrote of the disease as a "providential agent to detach the heart from all earthly affection, prompting much the desire of a Christian soul to be united--the sooner the better--with Him who is her only life". During his last illness he suffered at times intensely; yet was patient, brave, and full of thoughtfulness for his people through it all, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046962 | and looked forward with firm hope to spending Easter with his Maker. He died on the 15th April, . "A happier death," wrote the brother who nursed him in his illness, "I never saw." There, far away amongst those for whom he gave his life, lie the remains of one of the world's great examples, whose name will ever be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046963 | whispered with reverence, and who possessed to a wonderful extent "the peace which the world cannot give". A GREAT ARCTIC EXPLORER. THE STORY OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. The passage to the North Pole is barred by ice fields and guarded by frost and snow more securely than Cerberus guarded the approach to the kingdom of Pluto. For three centuries and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046964 | more the brave and daring of all nations have tried to pass these barriers. Hundreds of men have been frozen to death, hundreds have died of starvation; and yet men continue to hazard their lives to find out this secret of Nature. One of the bravest arctic explorers was Sir John Franklin, who, after many wonderful adventures, finally died with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046965 | his companions amid the frozen seas of the north. As a little boy, "life on the ocean wave" was to John Franklin a delightful day-dream. Once when at school he walked twelve miles to get a sight of the sea and a taste of the salt air; and such was his desire for a seafaring career that although his father | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046966 | was at first very much opposed to the idea, yet when he found how strongly Franklin had set his heart upon a sailor's life, he got him a place on a war-ship where John took part in the battle of Copenhagen. Then he was shipwrecked on the coast of Australia, did some fighting in the Straits of Malacca, and was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046967 | present at the great battle of Trafalgar. After this he had his first taste of Arctic adventure, having received a commission from the Government to explore the Coppermine, one of the great rivers of Canada, which discharges its waters into the Arctic Ocean. Down this river sailed Franklin and his companions. They encountered rapids and falls, and all kinds of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046968 | obstacles, and met with many dangers and disasters. The first winter they were nearly starved to death. They stayed at Fort Enterprise; but, long before the spring returned, they found their food was all but finished, and the nearest place to get more was five hundred miles away, over a trackless desert of snow. One of their number, however, tramped | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046969 | the whole weary way, and brought back food to his starving leader and companions. Next summer, Franklin descended the river to its mouth, and embarking in canoes he and his followers made towards Behring Strait, from which they were ere long driven back by their old dread enemy--starvation. For many days on their return journey they had nothing to live | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046970 | upon but rock moss, which barely kept them alive. They became so worn and ill that they could only cover a few miles a day, and Franklin fainted from exhaustion. For eight days they waited on the banks of a river which it was necessary to pass, but which they had no means of crossing. One of the men tried | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046971 | to swim across and was nearly drowned, and despair seized on the party, for they thought the end had come. But there was one man among them who could not believe God would leave them to perish, and spurred on by this thought he gathered rock moss in sufficient quantities to preserve their lives; and, hope springing up again, they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046972 | made a light raft on which they passed over to the other side. Then Franklin set off with eight men to get assistance, whilst others remained to care for the sick. He and three companions only arrived at Fort Enterprise. They had to endure a fearful journey, during which they ate their very boots to preserve life. To their bitter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046973 | disappointment when they got there they found the place deserted! Then they attempted to go to the next settlement; but Franklin utterly broke down on the way, and was with difficulty got back to Fort Enterprise. Here they were joined by two of the party who had been left behind, the others having perished on the way. The night of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046974 | their reunion, the six survivors had a grand feast. A partridge had been shot, and for the first time during an entire month these men tasted flesh food. Later on, sitting round the fire they had kindled, words of hope and comfort were read from the Bible, and the men joined heartily together in prayer and thanksgiving. Shortly after, friendly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046975 | Indians arrived with supplies of food, and Franklin with the survivors of his party returned safely to England. After this, Franklin made other expeditions, gaining fame and honour by his explorations, and was for seven years Lieutenant-Governor of Tasmania. Then in , when he was in his sixtieth year, he went out in the service of the Admiralty to attempt | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046976 | the passage through the Arctic Ocean. Leaving England in May, , in command of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_, with a body of the most staunch and experienced seamen, he sailed into the Arctic Seas. They were last seen by a whaler on the 26th of July that year, and then for years no word of their fate reached Great Britain. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046977 | Not that England waited all this time before she sent to discover what had befallen them. The Government was stirred into action by the pleadings of Lady Franklin. Expedition after expedition left our shores. America and France joined in the search. Five years later was discovered the place in which the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ had first wintered; but it was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046978 | left for Dr. John Rae to find out from the Esquimaux in that the ships had been crushed in the ice, and that Franklin and his companions had died of fatigue and starvation. The final relics of the Franklin Expedition were discovered by McClintock and a party of volunteers. Starting from England in a little vessel called _The Fox_ he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046979 | and his crew passed through a hundred dangers from shipwreck, icebergs, and other perils. But at length, in April, , they found on King William's Island the record which told plainly and fully the fate of Franklin and his companions. [Illustration: RELICS OF THE FRANKLIN EXPEDITION. . Loaded Gun. . Fragment of Ensign. . Anvil Block. . Portable Cooking Stove. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046980 | . Chronometers from _Erebus_ and _Terror_. . Medicine Chest. . Testament . Dipping Needle.] The document contained two statements, one written in , mentioning that Sir John Franklin and all were well; and a second, written in , to say that they had been obliged to abandon the _Erebus_ and _Terror_, that Sir John Franklin had died in June, , | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046981 | and that they had already lost nine officers and fifteen men. Other traces of the sad end which overtook the expedition were also found. In a boat were discovered two skeletons; and amongst other books a Bible, numerous passages in which were underlined, showing that these gallant men in their last hours had the comfort of God's Word to support | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046982 | them when earthly hopes had passed away. The object for which Sir John Franklin had sailed, viz., the discovery of the North West passage, had been attained, but no single man of the expedition, alas, lived to enjoy the fruits of the discovery. A SAVIOUR OF SIX THE STORY OF FIREMAN FORD. In the waiting room at the head quarters | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046983 | of the London Fire Brigade, in Southwark Street, London, is an oak board on which are fixed a number of brass tablets, bearing the names of men who are entitled to a place on this "Roll of Honour". From amongst these let us take one, and tell briefly what befell him. It will serve as a sample of the dangers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046984 | which beset the fireman daily in the pursuit of his duty. "Joseph Andrew Ford," so runs the official record, "lost his life at a fire which occurred at Gray's Inn Road, at about a.m. on the 7th of October, . "Ford was on duty with the fire escape stationed at Bedford Row, and he was called to the fire a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046985 | few minutes before a.m., and proceeded there with the utmost speed. "Before he reached the fire, three persons had been rescued by the police, who took them down from the second-floor window by means of a builder's ladder; and, on his arrival, there were seven persons in the third floor, six in the left-hand window, and one in the right-hand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046986 | window. "He pitched his escape to the left-hand window, and with great difficulty and much exertion and skill succeeded in getting the six persons out safely (the woman in the right-hand window being in the meanwhile rescued by the next escape that arrived, in charge of fireman W. Attwood); and Ford was in the act of coming down himself when | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046987 | he became enveloped in flame and smoke, which burst out of the first-floor window; and, after some struggling in the wire netting, he fell to the pavement. "Ford was evidently coming down the shoot when his axe handle or some of his accoutrements became entangled in the wire netting; so that, to clear himself, he had to break through, and, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046988 | while struggling to do so, he got so severely burned that his recovery was hopeless. "It was a work of no ordinary skill and difficulty to save so many persons in the few moments available for the purpose; and, when it is mentioned that some of them were very old and crippled, it is no exaggeration to say that it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046989 | would be impossible to praise too highly Ford's conduct on this occasion, which has resulted so disastrously to himself. "He was thirty-one years of age when he met his death, and he left a wife and two children to mourn his loss." That's all the official record says--simple, calm, straightforward--like Joseph Ford's conduct on that night. I suppose that next | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046990 | morning two pairs of bright little eyes were on the watch for Joseph Ford; and perchance four pattering feet ran to the door when the knock came; and that two little minds dimly realised that father had been called to a far-off country, where some day they would see him. And it may be that a brave woman, into whose | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046991 | life the sunlight had shined, was stricken with grief and bowed down. But all I know for certain is, that Joseph Ford died in the performance of his duty. He did a brave night's work. Six lives saved from the angry flames--old and crippled some of the terror-stricken folk were--and he took them down so carefully, so tenderly, and landed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046992 | them all safely below. His work was over. He had saved every life he could; and glad of heart, if weary of limb, he turned with a thankful mind to do just the simplest thing in the world--viz., to descend the escape he had been down so many times before. He was young and strong; safety was only thirty feet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046993 | or so below; and the people were waiting to welcome and cheer the victor. Only thirty feet between him and safety! Yet the man was "fairly roasted" in the escape. Men have been burnt at the stake and tortured, and limbs have been stretched on the rack, and people have been maimed by thumbscrews and bootscrews, and put inside iron | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046994 | figures with nails that tear and pierce. All this have they suffered in pursuit of duty, or at the bidding of conscience; and of such and of brave Joseph Ford there comes to us across the ages--a saying spoken long ago, to the effect that "he that loseth his life shall save it": and we need to remember that saying | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046995 | in such cases as that of Fireman Ford. A BLIND HELPER OF THE BLIND. THE STORY OF ELIZABETH GILBERT. "A fine handsome child, with flashing black eyes!" Thus was Elizabeth Gilbert described at her birth in ; but at the age of three an attack of scarlet fever deprived her of eyesight; and thenceforth, for upwards of fifty years, the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046996 | beautiful things in the world were seen by her no more. Her parents were most anxious that she should take part in all that was going on in the household, in order that she should feel her misfortune as little as possible. So she lived in the midst of the family circle, sharing in their sports, their meals, and their | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046997 | entertainments, and being treated just as one of the others; yet with a special care and devotion by her father, Dr. Gilbert, whose heart went out in deep love towards his little sightless daughter. Bessie was fond of romping games, and preferred by far getting a few knocks and bumps to being helped or guided by others when she was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046998 | at play. She was by nature passionate, yet she gradually subdued this failing. She was a general favourite; and, when any petition had to be asked of father, it was always Bessie who was put forward to do it, as the children knew how good were her chances of being successful in her mission. She was educated just like other | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000046999 | girls, except that her lessons were read to her. She made great progress, and was a very apt pupil in French, German, and other subjects; but arithmetic she cordially disliked. Imagine for an instant the drudgery of working a long division sum with leaden type and raised, figures; think of all the difficulty of placing the figures, and the chances | 60 | gutenberg |
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