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He thought how Steve would jeer if he knew he had turned back. So, with a call of derision to Blair to see what "a man could do," he set his teeth, shut his eyes, and took the jump, and landed safely below, among the boughs, his outstretched 5 arms gathering them in as he sank amidst them, until they stopped his descent and he found a limb and climbed down, his heart bumping with excitement and pride. Blair, he felt sure, was at last "stumped." As he sprang to the ground and 10 looked up he saw a sight which made his heart give a bigger bound than it had ever done in all his life. There was little Blair on the very peak of the roof, the very point of the gable, getting ready to follow him. Her face was white, her lips 15 were tightly closed, and her eyes were opened so wide that he could see them even from where he was. She was poised like a bird ready to fly.

"Blair! Blair!" he cried, waving her back. "Don't! don't!" But Blair took no heed. She 20 only settled herself for a firmer foothold, and the next second, with outstretched arms, she sprang into space. Whether it was that his cry distracted her, or whether her hair blew into her eyes and made her miss her step, or whether she would have 25 misjudged her distance anyhow, instead of reaching

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the thickly leaved part where Jacquelin had landed, she struck where the boughs were much less thick, and came crashing through, down, down, from bough to bough, until she landed on the lowest 5 limb, where she stopped for a second and then rolled over and fell in a limp little bundle on the ground, where she lay quite still. Jacquelin never forgot the feeling he had at that moment. He was sure she was dead, and that he was a murderer. 10 In a second he was down on his knees, bending over her.

"Blair! Blair!" he cried. "Dear Blair, are you hurt?" But there was no answer. And he began to whimper in a very unmanly fashion for one who 15 had been so boastful a moment before, and to pray,

too, which is not so unmanly; but his wits were about him, and it came to him quite clearly that, if she were not dead, the best thing to do was to unfasten her neckband and bathe her face. So off to the 20 nearest water he put as hard as his legs could take him, and dipped his handkerchief in the horse trough, and then, grabbing up a bucket near by, filled it and ran back with it. Blair was still motionless and white, but he wiped her scratched face and bathed 25 it again and again, and presently, to his joy, she

sighed and half opened her eyes, and sighed again,

and then, as he was still asking her how she felt, said faintly, "I'm all right — I did it."

The next quarter of an hour was passed in getting Blair's breath back. Fortunately for her, if not for her dress, her clothes had caught here and there 5 as she came crashing through the branches, and though the breath was knocked out of her, and she was shaken and scratched and stunned, no bones were broken, and she was not seriously hurt after all. She proposed that they should say nothing 10 about it to any one; she could get his Mammy to mend her clothes. But this magnanimous offer Jacquelin firmly declined. He was afraid that Blair might be hurt in some way that she did not know, and he declared that he should go straight and tell 15 it at the house.

"But I did it myself," persisted little Blair; "you were not to blame. You called to me not to do it."

"Did you hear me call? Then why did you do it?" asked Jacquelin.

"Because you had done it and said I could not." "But did n't you know you would get hurt?"

She nodded.

"I thought so."

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Jacquelin looked at her long and seriously, and 25 that moment a new idea seemed to enter his mind,

- that, after all, it might be as brave to do a dangerous thing which you are afraid to do as if you are not at all afraid.

"Blair, you are a brick," he said. "You are braver 5 than any boy I know -as brave as Steve, as brave as Marshal Turenne." Which was sweet enough to Blair to make amends for all her bruises.

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renown: fame. - Cerro Gordo: a fortified stronghold that the Americans took from the Mexicans during the Mexican War. Marshal Turenne: one of the great soldiers of France. prig a conceited person. - relegated: removed. condescended: stooped. persistent: never-ending. — emulation: rivalry. — magnanimous: generous.

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THE GLADNESS OF NATURE

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT (1794-1878), poet and editor, was born in Cummington, Massachusetts. Among his ancestors were two whom Longfellow has celebrated in his Courtship of Miles Standish, namely, Priscilla and John Alden.

Bryant's father, a physician of culture, took a loving interest 5 in the poetical development of his son, who early showed remarkable intelligence. When only eighteen months old Bryant is said to have known all the letters of the alphabet. At the age of eight he was writing verse, and at thirteen was the author of a political satire. At eighteen he had written Thanatopsis, the greatest 10 poem produced in America up to that time. So remarkable was the genius shown in this poem that Editor R. II. Dana, when it was submitted to him for publication, said to his associate: “Ah, Phillips, you have been imposed upon. No one on this side of the Atlantic is capable of writing such verse."

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After practicing law for some years Bryant moved to the city of New York and engaged in editorial and other literary work, which in time brought him an ample income. For over half a century he was connected with the Evening Post. In addition to his original poems Bryant made admirable translations of Homer's 20 Iliad and Odyssey.

His poetry overflows with natural religion,—with what Wordsworth calls the "religion of the woods."-JOHN WILSON.

Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,

When our mother Nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad,

And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

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