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For with strength of blood like mine, and power of heart behind it, a broken bone must burn itself. Mine went hard with fires of pain, being of such size and thickness; and I was ashamed of him for breaking by reason of a pistol-ball, and the mere hug of a man. And it fetched me down in conceit of strength; so that I was careful afterwards. All this was a lesson to me.
"Had she not prejudiced you against me in the first place?" said Brandon, hesitatingly. "Yes, she had," said Elsie, with still greater hesitation. "By something that she said of me? It was too true I deserved it; but the lesson she taught me has never been forgotten. I do not say that I deserve you, but I mean to try my best to deserve you. But was that your only reason for refusing me?"
All this is a lesson to our missionary societies and churches at home.
It can express itself in the gentle zephyr or in the devastating whirlwind. Its versatility is altogether worthy of notice, and we may well hold the lesson in history in abeyance, for the nonce, while we inculcate due respect for the hand. For no one can contemplate his hand for five minutes and not gain for it a feeling of profound respect.
It is one thing to shed tears over a touching story and another to shed them from penitence. An illustration should not be more sublime than the lesson to be taught lest there follow a swift descent with loss of reverence by the way.
This account was found after his death and appeared in Putnam's Magazine of 1869. It included a thrilling tragedy and closed as follows: "I have passed a varied and eventful life but never have I beheld any spectacle which so plainly manifested the majesty of the Creator, or so forcibly taught the lesson of humility to man as the total eclipse of the sun."
There was one little bad boy who was always trying to persuade him, but he never could. "So this poor little boy grew up to be a man, and had to go out in the world, far from home and friends to earn his living. Temptations lay all about him, and sometimes he was about to yield, but he would think of some precious lesson he learned in his Sunday School a long time ago, and that would save him.
Paul felt his temper rising, for these plain truths were hard to bear; but fear lest he should lose his protector kept him silent. "I admit everything, sir," said he calmly. "I was a fool, and almost mad, but experience has taught me a bitter lesson. I am here to-day, and this fact should tell you that I have given up all my vain hallucinations." "Will you give up Rose Pigoreau?"
Knoll's hands, clenched to fists and his eyes glowed in hate and defiance. Then he dropped them to the floor again and began to talk slowly in a monotonous tone that sounded as if he were repeating a lesson. His manner was rather unfortunate and did not tend to induce belief in the truth of his story.
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