THE PATRIOT'S WORK.
Mrs. Robertson and her son were sitting at their pleasant
breakfast-table together.
"Blair," said the mother, "you want to be a patriot. Here is some work
for you to do for your country. We must try to make a good American
citizen out of Hal, and a good Christian at the same time. The poor
fellow is deeply grateful to you, and you will have a powerful influence
over him."
"I can't bear the English," said Blair warmly. "I don't like any
foreigners, for that matter. It don't seem to me they are the right
stuff to make American citizens out of. Give me the native-born Yankee,
free and independent from his cradle upwards. That's my way of
thinking."
Blair stood up as he spoke, and waved his knife in a manner more
emphatic than elegant. A speech, one of his favorite speeches, seemed
imminent. Blair did love to hear himself talk.
"My son, our question in life is not what we _like_, but what is _duty_.
I think the laws of the kingdom of heaven should be the guide to every
lover of his country. The voice of our Saviour is, '_Come_ unto me, all
ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.' 'The
Spirit and the bride say, _Come_; and let him that heareth say, _Come._'
Every true Christian echoes the saying of St. Paul, 'I would to God that
not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost and
altogether such as I am, except these bonds.' So it should be with every
favored citizen of our happy land. We should welcome the oppressed of
every clime, and strive to make them worthy partakers of the blessings
we enjoy. I do not like to hear you say you hate any nation. We are all
of one blood, made in God's image."
"Dear mother," said Blair, "you are right; you are always right. How
thankful I ought to be to have such a guide, and such a help in keeping
my new resolutions. I want to do my duty even when it is hard for me.
You shall see what a friend I will be to Hal. I mean to go out as soon
as I have done breakfast, and see if I can look him up some steady work.
I heard Old Jock say on Saturday he wanted a strong boy to help him
handle his nets. I'll try to get the place for Hal."
Blair was as prompt to act as to plan. A half hour after breakfast was
over he was standing by the cottage of an old fisherman and knocking
for admittance.
It took all Blair's powers of persuasion to induce Jock to have any
thing to do with what he called a "furriner." The case seemed well-nigh
lost, when Blair mounted on a chair, and made a small speech in his best
style for the benefit of his single auditor. Whether won over by its
logic or through a sense of the honor thus conferred upon him, Jock
agreed to Blair's proposition.
"The first speech I ever made to any purpose," thought Blair, as he
walked rapidly along the shore, wending his way to Mrs. McKinstry's
dwelling.
Hal had locked himself into his "castle," as the only way in which he
could escape the merciless scolding of his voluble hostess. She seemed
to consider every stain on the injured garments a blot on the shield of
the English boy which no apologies could excuse or efface. Hal fairly
fled before the enemy; and once safe in his own room, whistled so
lustily as to drown all sound of the railing from without.
It was an unusually busy day with Mrs. McKinstry, or it is doubtful
whether she would have allowed even this close to the skirmish, for she
had a taste for such encounters. Blair however heard the dripping and
swashing of water in the rear of the house as he went up the narrow
stairway. The wide cap-border of Mrs. McKinstry was fanning backwards
and forwards, as she bent with a regular motion over the tub in which
her red arms were immersed. She gave one look at Blair as he went up to
her lodger's room, but did not condescend even to exchange watchwords
with him.
In answer to Blair's knock was returned a resolute "Who's there?"
The reply set Hal's mind at ease, and the visitor was promptly admitted.
Blair stated his business at once, but to his surprise he met with a
blank refusal from Hal. He would not fall in with such a plan, not he.
He would keep out of the water while there was any land left to stand
on. He had had enough of plumping to the bottom, and coming up, ears
singing, throat choking, and soul almost scared out of him. Better a
crumb of bread and a morsel of cheese, than fatness and plenty earned in
such a way.
It was hard for Blair to understand the nervous fear of drowning which
had taken possession of poor Hal. Fairport boys could swim almost as
soon as they could walk. They knew nothing of the helpless feeling of
one who has the great deep under him, and is powerless to struggle in
its waves.
But a few short days before, Blair would have pronounced Hal a coward,
and left him in disdain. Now he stood silent for a moment, baffled and
puzzled. "I'll teach you to swim, Hal," he said at length. "We'll try in
shallow water first, where you couldn't drown, unless you wish to drown
yourself. It is easy--just as easy as any thing, if you only know how.
I'll come for you after school this evening, and we'll go up the creek,
where the boys wont be about. I shouldn't wonder if you were to take to
it like a fish."
The English boy looked into Blair's frank pleasant face, and the dogged
expression passed from his own. He took Blair's hand as he said, "I'll
try. You shall see what you can make out of me."
Before many weeks were over, Hal Hutchings was as good a swimmer as half
the boys in Fairport. Old Jock no longer waded into the deep water to
set his nets or push his boat ashore. He declared that Hal had scared
the rheumatism out of his bones, and it was not likely to make bold to
come back, if things went on as they seemed to promise.