We walk out at last into the ample close. The three trees which used to stand within the football-field are all gone; and many another well-known tree was blown over in a recent wind-storm. Still, there are plenty left for shade, and though one always grudges an old and beautiful landmark, perhaps the football and cricket fields are better. To an American, the Rugby close will always be of interest as the birthplace and original home of that form of football which gave rise to our own familiar game; but if he has read Tom Brown in his boyhood, he will think of it rather as the place where Tom made his entry to Rugby life in the big-side football game, and where, with Arthur on his eleven, he played his final game of cricket. About the close the pleasantest memories of the school hover; and of all public schools Rugby is the one which appeals most strongly to the democratic instincts of an American. Here boys are equal not only by custom, as at Eton, but by birth; and here many generations have learned to value themselves, in Arnold's phrase, as Christians, gentlemen, and scholars.
To speak of the other public schools—Harrow, Westminster, Shrewsbury, Marlborough, Wellington, Clifton, Repton, and the rest—would of course be interesting, but I could scarcely hope to illustrate more clearly what a public school really is. At all of them the boys live in "houses," much as men at the universities live in colleges. At all the discipline is more strict than is usual at our preparatory schools, and at all the older boys have power to flog the younger, and are responsible for their good behavior. To an American the discipline seems too strict to be compatible with real independence, and the idea of a big boy flogging a little one is brutal. Certainly it is not well for an American boy to be sent to school in England. Yet granted the strictness with which English parents bring up their children, and the careful watch which is kept on young men at the universities, the public-school system seems to me the best that could possibly be devised. Independence of character and the power of using opportunities are perhaps not to be looked for among English schoolboys; but from their stricter rules they learn obedience and self-restraint, while from the exercise of power the older boys learn to govern justly and with decision.
A GIRL'S BRAVE ACT.
"She will bear the marks of her fight the rest of her life." The doctor who made this observation referred to Miss Anna McDowell, a young girl of nineteen, who by her heroic act on the afternoon of November 22 has gained an enviable reputation for bravery and presence of mind. The heroine is a resident of Quakake Valley, Pennsylvania. A small trout stream runs through the valley, skirting the main road. This stream was a source of delight to little three-year-old Nettie Hinckle, who constantly played on its banks and fished in its waters. Nettie was fishing on the afternoon of the 22d when a whir of wings startled her, and looking up she saw a giant bald-head eagle flying savagely towards her. With screams of fright she started to run, but the bird fought her back with his beak and talons.
Miss McDowell, who was passing, heard the screams and hastened to the bank of the stream. Without hesitating, she seized the child and tore her away from the eagle. This apparently served to enrage the bird further, and, defeated in its attempt to carry off the child, it turned its attention to the rescuer. It circled around, tearing at her with his beak and talons in the most ferocious manner.
Nettie had fallen down on the ground, and the young girl stooped over, guarding her, at the same time vainly trying to ward off the bird's attacks. The bird grew more and more furious, and repeatedly dashed at the girl, cutting ugly gashes in her shoulders and head. Without any other means of defence, she used her arms to fight his onslaughts, but strength was fast leaving her what with loss of blood and her high nervous state of excitement.
In the struggle her hat became loose, and instantly she thought of her hat-pin. It was one of the usual long, thin, steel pins, and drawing it out she defended herself with it against the savage bird, who, regardless of the stabs she gave, flew at her with renewed fury. Her heart failed her and her strength was nearly gone. Why did not somebody come? The bird had circled off, and was coming at her with a wild swoop, his beak half open ready to tear, and his talons extended.
She grasped him around the neck as he struck at her, and holding him with all the strength she had left, she thrust the hat-pin into his head, fortunately killing him. At the same moment her senses left her, and she stumbled forward on the ground, falling on the dead bird. Little Nettie ran screaming to her house, a short distance away, and people hurried to the scene. They tenderly lifted the brave girl up and took care of her, as the bird had inflicted some bad wounds. Miss McDowell proposes to have the bird stuffed to keep in her room as a memento of the occasion, but the memory of her brave act will never be forgotten by the people of her neighborhood.