Page 112 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...

impossible to put his hands into the same niche with JiTi feet and retain
his slender hold a. moment. His companions instantly perceive this
new iiiui fearful dilemma. He is too high to ask for his father and
mother, his brothers and sisters. But one of his companions anticipates
his desire. S’.vift as the wind lie bounds down the channel, and the
situation of the feted E:>oy is told upon the father's hearthstone.
Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and there are 3u:ridreds.
standing in that rocky channel and hundreds on the bddge above, alL
holding their breath, and awaiting the fearful catastrophe. The poor
boy hears the hum of new and numerous voices, both above and below,
lie cbtn just distinguish the tones of his father, who is shouting with
a 11 t.h e c": n e i gy o f c! es p air'; “ Wi S1 iam ! Wi 11 i a m ! c1 on ’ L ki ok do w n !
Your mother, and Henry i-nd Harriet are all here praying for you !
Donft look down I Krep your eye toward the top ! ”
h he boy ciir.hrt look down, ibs eye is fixed like a Hint towards
heaven, and his young heart on Him ivho reigns there. He grasps
again his knife, Ho cuts another niche, a ad another foot is added to
the hundreds that remove him from the reach of h uni an help from
bekr.v. H o’.v carefully he uses his wasting blade ! How anxiously
he selects the softest places in that vast pier! How he avoids c^1 cry
flinty grain ! How ho economizes his physical powers, vesting
a moment at each gain lie cats! How every motion is watched fro ill
below ! There stand his father, mother, brother and sister on 1he veiy
spot where, if lie falh, he will not fall alone.
The sun is half-way down in the west. The lad has made fifft
r1
additional niches in that mighty wall. Fifty more must be cut before
the longest rope can reach him. Ilis waiting1 blade strikes again inti
die limestone. The boy is emerging painfully, loot by foot, fro it
under that lofty arch-. Spliced ropes are ready m the hands of tliosi
who are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge above. Two
minutes more and all nmst be over, The blade is worn to the las!
haT-ineh The boy's head reels; his eyes are star I ing from their
sockets. J fis I hope is dying in. his heart; his life must hang on the
next gain ho cuts. Th;it 11 idle is his last.