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Updated: May 22, 2025
Brace high each nerve to dare the fight, And boldly steer to seek the foeman; One secret prayer to aid the right, And many a secret thought to woman Now spread the flutt'ring canvas wide, And dash the foaming sea aside; The cry's, "A sail! a sail!" Three cheers for victory!
But if ever yo're a feyther, Mester, yo'll find out 'at a baby's cry's music often enough, an' yo'll find, too, if yo' ever lose one, 'at yo'd give all yo'd getten just to hear even th' worst o' cryin'. Rosanna she couldna find i' her heart to set th' little un out o' her arms a minnit, an' she'd go about th' room wi' her eyes aw leeted up, an' her face bloomin' like a slip o' a girl's, an' if she laid him i' th' cradle her head 'ud be turnt o'er har shoulder aw th' time lookin' at him an' singin' bits o' sweet-soundin' foolish woman-folks' songs.
Her eyes were full of tears, and she no longer tried to conceal her suffering. The cobbler remained quiet while she cried softly. At last: "It's Maudlin Bates, ain't it, darlin'?" he asked. "No, Lafe." "Can't you tell your friend what 'tis?" "I guess I'm crying because I'm foolish, dear," she replied. "No, that's not true, Jinnie. I feel as bad seeing you cry's if 'twas Peggy."
Her mother still looked at her, half doubting and half delighted. "A good cry's the right thing," she said slowly, in a very low voice. "The exact right thing, perfectly proper and normal. A good cry never did any girl on this earth one atom of harm. It's the best safety-valve. You're lucky, Elma, my child, in being able to get one." "Yes, dear," Elma answered, with her head still buried.
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