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A LOST HERO
A LOST HERO
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Scanned, proofed and corrected from the original edition for your reading pleasure. It is also searchable and contains hyper-links to chapters.
***
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS:
A Lost Hero
The Express from Columbia
The Enterprise Of The Summerville Merchant
In The Group At The Station Stood A White Boy
The Boy Tested The Halter, And Patted The Horse
Stray Goats And Mules Gazed Expectantly
An Old Negro Came Up
He Plodded Slowly Up The Track
Snapped His Halter, And Broke Away
He Got Down On His Hands And Knees And Crawled
Birds Seemed To Sing Through The Air
Had The End Of The World Come?
They Ran
The Pauper Dog
They Were Only Cows
Run For 'T! Run!
As They Came Abreast Of The Second Little Station
I Sole For Two Thousand Dollars Onct
The Ragged Old Arm That Felled It Down
The Little One Climbed Like A Monkey Upon A Shelf
The Old Man Seized The Torpedoes
This Comforted The Lad Incredibly
"I Stump Ye!"
The Strong, Black Fist Was Clinched
He Laid One Torpedo On Each Rail
Papä! Papä!
A Little Huddling Figure
The Locality Where The Train Stood Was Examined Thoroughly
Had The Curiosity To Pick Up The Rags
Finis
NOTE.
THE materials of heroism are everywhere; each day and all situations are full of them. The power to recognize them and the will to use them make the hero. He who saves life, no matter how obscure, how poor, how ignorant he may be, has a value which can never belong to the spiller of blood; and the crimson glories of war fade before the white honors of peace.
This little story, which was originally contributed to the "Youth's Companion," has sought to teach the young people of America something of the grandeur which waits upon a brave deed, and something of the beauty of supreme self-sacrifice.
E. S. P. W.
H. D. W.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of the story:
INTRODUCTORY
THE express from Columbia was due. It was almost nine o'clock on Tuesday night, the 31st of August, 1886. It had been a hot day, sultry toward night, and the loungers at the Summerville station were divided between pitying and envying their neighbors on the excursion train. In such weather, home seems either the most intolerable or the most comfortable place in the world. It had not rained for six weeks, and South Carolina panted.
There was a larger crowd than usual at the little station to see the Columbia excursionists come in. The enterprise of the Summerville merchant who placarded the pine-trees of this forest village with legends to the effect that his ice-cream would be found "Opp. the depot," was well rewarded that scorching night. The streets thronged—if Summerville streets can ever be said to throng—with warm and thirsty loungers of both sexes and of every color. South Carolinians though they were, they objected to the heat of that day.
***
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS:
A Lost Hero
The Express from Columbia
The Enterprise Of The Summerville Merchant
In The Group At The Station Stood A White Boy
The Boy Tested The Halter, And Patted The Horse
Stray Goats And Mules Gazed Expectantly
An Old Negro Came Up
He Plodded Slowly Up The Track
Snapped His Halter, And Broke Away
He Got Down On His Hands And Knees And Crawled
Birds Seemed To Sing Through The Air
Had The End Of The World Come?
They Ran
The Pauper Dog
They Were Only Cows
Run For 'T! Run!
As They Came Abreast Of The Second Little Station
I Sole For Two Thousand Dollars Onct
The Ragged Old Arm That Felled It Down
The Little One Climbed Like A Monkey Upon A Shelf
The Old Man Seized The Torpedoes
This Comforted The Lad Incredibly
"I Stump Ye!"
The Strong, Black Fist Was Clinched
He Laid One Torpedo On Each Rail
Papä! Papä!
A Little Huddling Figure
The Locality Where The Train Stood Was Examined Thoroughly
Had The Curiosity To Pick Up The Rags
Finis
NOTE.
THE materials of heroism are everywhere; each day and all situations are full of them. The power to recognize them and the will to use them make the hero. He who saves life, no matter how obscure, how poor, how ignorant he may be, has a value which can never belong to the spiller of blood; and the crimson glories of war fade before the white honors of peace.
This little story, which was originally contributed to the "Youth's Companion," has sought to teach the young people of America something of the grandeur which waits upon a brave deed, and something of the beauty of supreme self-sacrifice.
E. S. P. W.
H. D. W.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of the story:
INTRODUCTORY
THE express from Columbia was due. It was almost nine o'clock on Tuesday night, the 31st of August, 1886. It had been a hot day, sultry toward night, and the loungers at the Summerville station were divided between pitying and envying their neighbors on the excursion train. In such weather, home seems either the most intolerable or the most comfortable place in the world. It had not rained for six weeks, and South Carolina panted.
There was a larger crowd than usual at the little station to see the Columbia excursionists come in. The enterprise of the Summerville merchant who placarded the pine-trees of this forest village with legends to the effect that his ice-cream would be found "Opp. the depot," was well rewarded that scorching night. The streets thronged—if Summerville streets can ever be said to throng—with warm and thirsty loungers of both sexes and of every color. South Carolinians though they were, they objected to the heat of that day.
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