3. THE JAPANESE AND THE EARTHQUAKE
Once in far-away Japan there lived a rich man who owned a large ranch—not of alfalfa, or wheat, or other grain—but of rice. One afternoon he stood looking over his large fields of rice, saying, “What a rich man this great harvest makes me!” Suddenly he felt an earthquake and saw that the waves of the sea were running away from the land and rolling far out. He knew that it would only be a little while before the waves would return in a great flood, which would overflow the little strip of land along the seashore, in the valley below the high plain on which his ranch was situated, and all the people in the little village would be drowned. It was a holiday and the people in their merrymaking and fun and laughter had not noticed the earthquake. The rich man cried to his servants, “Bring torches! make haste! set fire to the rice!” Then he and his servants set on fire stack after stack of the rice. In a moment the flames and smoke rose high, the big bell from the village pealed the fire-signal, and all the boys and girls and men and women ran up the hill as fast as they could to see the fire, and to try to save the rice-crop of the rich man. When they saw him setting fire to his rice, they shouted, “Look, he is mad; he is setting fire to his rice.” “Look!” shouted the old man. They looked and saw the raging and surging waves of the sea come rolling in. They looked again a few moments later and saw nothing but the straw which had been the thatched roofs of their homes tossing on the waters and their whole village blotted out by the sea. “That is why I set fire to my rice,” said the old Japanese. “If I had not done that you would have all been drowned in those waves!” He stood among them almost as poor as any of them, but he had the consciousness that by the sacrifice of his fortune he had saved four hundred lives that day.—Adapted from “Gleanings in Buddha-fields,” by L. Hearn.
4. THE RUSSIAN SERVANT
One cold winter day long ago a Russian nobleman and his wife were traveling across the plains of Russia in a sleigh drawn by six horses, and their two servants on horseback were riding beside them. Suddenly they heard the howling of a great pack of wolves that had been driven by cold and hunger from the mountains. The nobleman at once ordered one of the servants to ride on faster to the town and bring them other horses while he drove those he had more swiftly. The wolves came nearer and nearer. The other servant begged his master to allow him to loose his horse for the wolves to devour, hoping in this way to save time. But as soon as the servant sprang into the sleigh the frightened horse was torn into a thousand pieces by the fierce wolves, and they were back again more bloodthirsty than before. While the servant fought them off from the back of the sleigh the nobleman cut loose one after another of the horses, until he had but two left. Then the servant said, “I will spring among them and that will give you time to escape!” “No! no!” cried the nobleman. “See the lights of the city in the distance. We are almost safe!” But the wolves were again upon them and there seemed no other way, so the servant sprang from the sleigh, fought and drove back the wolves as far as he could to save all the time possible, but at last he was overcome by their great numbers and was devoured. A few moments later the Russian nobleman and his wife, with the two horses and the sleigh, passed in through the gate of the city in safety, conscious that they had been saved only by the great self-sacrifice of their faithful servant. For a long time after travelers on that road saw a cross, which the nobleman had erected on the spot where his servant had given up his life, and on the cross were these words: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
GRACE, PULLING AT ONE OAR, AND HER FATHER AT THE OTHER
5. GRACE DARLING
Once there was a terrible storm at sea, and a steamship was dashed upon the rocks and split in two. One-half of the ship was washed away, and those of the passengers who were still alive, were clinging to the other half upon the low rocks, lashed by the angry waves. About a mile away in a lighthouse a brave girl, named Grace Darling, the daughter of the lighthouse-keeper, heard, above the noise of the winds and waves, the screams and cries of the drowning men, and when daylight dawned she could see the wreck and the men clinging to the masts. “Let us go out in the lifeboat and save them?” she cried. But her father, who knew the danger in such a storm, replied, “It is of no use. We can never reach them!” “We can never stay here and see them die, father,” Grace said; “let us try to save them.” So the heavy lighthouse boat was launched, and with Grace pulling at one oar, and her father at the other, they reached the wreck and rescued, one by one, the worn-out men, whom they rowed safely to the lighthouse. Then Grace became as tender a nurse as she had been brave as a sailor, for she cared most kindly for the shipwrecked men until the storm ceased and they were strong enough to go to their own homes. The heroism of this young woman became known everywhere. Thousands sang her praises. Artists visited the lighthouse to take her portrait. Three thousand dollars were subscribed and presented to her. Distinguished people sent her letters of gratitude. But through all such praise Grace Darling remained as modest as she was brave, saying, “I did not suppose I had done anything worthy of so much notice.” When a few years afterward she died, over her grave, in a little churchyard by the sea, not far from the lighthouse, a monument was raised in her honor, where it stands to-day. It is a marble statue of a woman lying at rest with a boat’s oar held fast in her right hand.
6. THE SURVEYOR AND THE LITTLE BOY
One spring day, a young surveyor, eighteen years of age, was eating his dinner with some companions in a forest in Virginia. Suddenly the sylvan stillness was startled by the piercing shrieks of a woman. The young surveyor sprang to his feet and leaped to the woman’s side. “My boy! My boy! Oh, my darling boy is drowning and they will not let me rescue him,” screamed the frantic mother as she tried to escape from the men who held her from springing into the rapids. “No, we will not let her go,” cried the men, “for she would be instantly killed on the sharp rocks and could not rescue her boy!” “Why does not one of you rescue him then?” said the manly fellow of eighteen. “We are not ready to die yet,” the men replied. “O sir, won’t you do something?” cried the mother to the young surveyor. For an instant he stood measuring the rocks and the whirling rapids with his eye, and then, throwing off his coat, he plunged into the roaring torrent where he had caught sight of the drowning boy. With stout heart and steady hand he struggled against the seething waters which each moment threatened to engulf him or dash him to pieces against the sharp-pointed rocks. Just as they thought both would go over the falls the young engineer clutched the little fellow and swam with him to the shore. Then, amid the praises of those who had witnessed his heroism, mingled with the gratitude of the overjoyed mother, he placed the unconscious but saved little boy in her arms. “God will reward you, young man,” said the mother; “God will reward you some day for your heroism, and many will praise you for what you have done this day!” And so it was; for this young surveyor who saved the little boy was George Washington.