He made our swamps and forests
sacred, as well because of the refuge which they gave to the fugitive
patriot, as for the frequent sacrifices which they enabled him to make,
on the altars of liberty and a befitting vengeance.... It is enough
that his fame has entered largely into that of his country, forming a
valuable portion of its national stock of character. His memory is in
the very hearts of our people.
* * * * *
=_Harriet Beecher Stowe, 1812-._= (Manual, p. 484.)
From "Uncle Tom's Cabin."
=_305._= MEMORIALS OF A DEAD CHILD.
At the door, however, he stopped a moment, and then coming back, he
said, with some hesitation,--
"Mary, I don't know how you'd feel about it, but there's that drawer
full of things-of-of-poor little Henry's." So saying, he turned quickly
on his heel, and shut the door after him.
His wife opened the little bedroom door adjoining her room, and taking
the candle, set it down on the top of a bureau there; then from a small
recess she took a key, and put it thoughtfully in the lock of a drawer,
and made a sudden pause, while two boys, who, boy-like, had followed
close on her heels, stood looking, with silent, significant glances, at
their mother. And O, mother that reads this, has there never been in
your house a drawer, or a closet, the opening of which has been to you
like the opening again of a little grave? Ah! happy mother that you are,
if it has not been so.
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