Mr. Larkin and myself jumped, followed by the two men, who took the oars. I rigged the tiller, and the mate sat beside me in the stern sheets. 11. "Do you see that cake of ice, with something black upon it, my lads? Put me alongside of that, and I'll give you a month's extra wages when you are paid off," said I to the men. 12. They bent to their oars, but their strokes were uneven and feeble; for they were worn out by the hard duty of the preceding fortnight; and, though they did their best, the boat made little more headway than the tide. It was a losing chase, and Mr. Larkin, who was suffering torture as he saw how little we gained, cried out, "Pull, lads! I'll double the captain's prize: two months' extra pay: pull, lads! pull for life!". 13. A convulsive effort at the oars told how willing the men were to obey; but the strength of the strong man was gone. One of the poor fellows washed us twice in recovering his oar, and then gave out; and the other was nearly as far gone. Mr. Larkin sprang forward and seized the deserted oar. "Lie down in the bottom of the boat," said he to the man; and, captain, take the other oar; we must row for ourselves." 14. I took the second man's place. Larkin had stripped off his coat, and, as he pulled the bow, I waited for the signal stroke. It came gently, but firm; and the next moment we were pulling a long, steady stroke; gradually increasing in rapidity, until the wood seemed to smoke in the row-locks. We kept time, each by the long, deep breathing of the other. .15. Such a pull! We bent forward until our faces almost touched our knees; and then throwing all our strength into the backward movement, drew on the oar until every inch covered by the sweep was gained. Thus we worked at the oars for fifteen minutes; and it seemed to me as many hours. The sweat rolled off in great drops, and I was enveloped in a steam generated from my own body. 16. "Are we almost up to it, Mr. Larkin ?" I gasped out. "Almost, captain," said he; "and don't give up! for the love of our dear little ones at home; don't give up, captain!" The oars flashed as their blades turned up to the moonlight; for the men who plied them were fathers, and had fathers' hearts. 17. Suddenly Mr. Larkin ceased pulling; and my heart, for a moment, almost stopped its beating; for the terrible thought that he had given out, crossed my mind. But I was re-assured by his voice. (p.) "Gently, captain, gently: a stroke or two more: there, that will do;" and the next moment Mr. Larkin sprang upon the ice. I started up, and, calling to the men to make fast the boat to the ice, followed him. 18. We ran to the dark spot in the center of the mass, and found two little boys. The head of the smaller was resting in the bosom of the larger; and both were fast asleep. The lethargy, which would have been fatal but for the timely rescue, had overcome them. 19. Mr. Larkin grasped one of the lads, cut off his shoes, tore off his jacket, and then, loosening his own garments to the skin, placed the cold child in contact with his own warm body, carefully wrapping his overcoat around him. I did the same with the other child, and we then returned to the boat. 20. The children, as we learned when we had the delight of restoring them to their parents, were playing on the cake of ice, which had jammed into a bend of the river, about ten miles above New York. A movement of the tide set the ice in motion, and the little fellows were borne away, that cold night, and would have inevitably perished, but for Mr. Larkin's espying them as they were sweeping out to sea. 21. "How do you feel, Mr. Larkin ?" I said to the mate, the morning after this adventure. "A little stiff in the arms, captain," the noble fellow replied, while the big tears of grateful happiness gathered in his eyes," a little stiff in the arms, captain, but very easy here," laying his hand on the rough chest in which beat a true and manly heart. My quaint down-easter, He who lashes the seas into fury, and lets loose the tempest, will care for thee! The storms may rage without, but in thy bosom peace and sunshine abide always. QUESTIONS.-1. Describe the condition of the vessel as she lay at anchor inside Sandy Hook. 2. What did the captain say to Mr. Larkin, as he retired to rest? 3. Why did Mr. Larkin wake up the captain? 4. What did they discover on a cake of ice, floating out to sea? 5. Who went to their rescue? 6. What did the captain say to the rowers of the boat? 7. What did Mr. Larkin say to them? 8. Did they finally succeed in rescuing the children? 9. How came the two boys to be on that cake of ice? 10. What did Mr. Larkin say, when the captain asked him how he felt? LESSON XXXIII. A DORN' ED, decorated; embellished. HEATH, place overgrown with REC OG NIZED, knew; recollected. ROBERT BRUCE AND THE SCOTCH WOMAN. ANON. 1. MANY years ago, an old Scotch woman sat alone, spinning by the kitchen fire, in her little cottage. The room was adorned with the spoils of the chase, and many implements of war and hunting. There were spears, bows and arrows, swords, and shields; and, against the side of the room, hung a pair of huge antlers, once reared on the lordly brow of a "stag of ten,"* on which were suspended skins, plaids, bonnets, and one or two ponderous battle-axes. 2. The table, in the middle of the floor, was spread for supper, and some oatmeal cakes were baking before the fire. But the dame was not thinking of any of these things, nor of her two manly sons, who, in an adjoining room, were busily preparing for the next day's sport. 3. She was thinking of the distracted state of her native land, and of the good king, Robert Bruce, a fugitive in his own kingdom, beset, on every hand, by open enemies and secret traitors. "Alas!" thought she, "to-night I dwell here in peace, while to-morrow may see me driven out into the heath; and even now our king is a wanderer, with no shelter for his weary limbs." 4. A loud knock at the door broke in upon her musings. She rose, trembling with fear, to unbar the entrance, and beheld a man closely muffled in a cloak. "My good woman," said he, "will you grant a poor traveler the shelter of your roof to-night'?" 5. "Right willingly will I," said she; "for the love of one, for whose sake all travelers are welcome here." * That is, a stag ten years old. The age of the animal is known by the number of prongs or tines, each year one new prong being added. 6. "For whose sake is it that you make all wanderers welcome?" asked the stranger. 7. "For the sake of our good king, Robert Bruce, who, though he is now hunted like a wild beast, with horn and hound, I trust yet to see on the throne of Scotland !'' 8. " Nay, then, my good woman," replied the man, "since you love him so well, know that you see him now. Robert Bruce." I am 9. "You'!—are you our king'?" she inquired, sinking on her knees, and reverently kissing his hand; "where, then, are your followers, and why are you thus alone?" 10. "I have no followers now," replied Bruce, "and am, therefore, compelled to travel alone." 11. Nay, my liege," exclaimed the loyal dame, "that you shall do no longer; for here are my two sons, whom I give to you, and may they long live to serve and defend your majesty !" 12. The Scottish youths bent their knees, and took the oath of fealty; and then, sitting beside the fire, the king entered into conversation with his new retainers, while their mother was busied in preparing the evening meal. 13. Suddenly, they were startled by the tramp of horses' hoofs, and the voices of men. "Tis the English!" shouted the matron, "fight to the last, my sons, and defend your king!" But, at this moment, the king recognized the voices of lord James, of Douglas, and of Edward Bruce, and bade them have no fear. 14. Bruce was overjoyed at meeting with his brother, and his faithful friend Douglas, who had with them a band of one hundred and fifty men. He bade farewell to the brave and loyal woman, and, taking with him her two sons, left the place. 15. The two young Scots served Bruce well and faith |