More than eighty years ago a fierce war raged in India between
the English and Tipu Sahib. On one occasion several English
officers were taken prisoners. Among them was one named Baird.
One day the native officer brought in fetters to be put upon
each of the prisoners, the wounded not excepted. Baird had been
severely wounded and was suffering from pain and weakness.
A gray-haired officer said to the native official, “You do not
think of putting chains upon that wounded man?”
“There are just as many pairs of fetters as there are
prisoners,” was the answer, “and every pair must be worn.”
“Then,” said the noble officer, “put two pairs on me. I will
wear his as well as my own.” This was done. Strange to say.
Baird lived to regain his freedom, and lived to take that city;
but his noble, unselfish friend died in prison.
Up to his death, he wore two pairs of fetters. But what if he
had worn the fetters of all the prisoners? What if, instead
of being a captive himself, he had quitted a glorious palace,
to live in their loathsome dungeon, to wear their chains, to
bear their stripes, to suffer and die for them, that they
might go free, and free forever? (Text.)--SOPHIE BRONSON
TITTERINGTON.
(1351)
=Harmony=--See RAPPORT.