Stamina [pp. 198-201]

shall steer it onward through a tempest-swel)pt
sea and beneath a stormy sky, to the bleak
shores that line the New World of their endeavor, where, bowing before the shrine of a
holy faith, they shall dedicate themselves to
conscience, purity, and God.
These men of stamina-these adherents to a
great and holy principle have led the progress
of the world-Bunyan in Bedford jail; Milton,
in blindness, penning his immortal vision of
Par-adise Lost; Latimer, with John the Baptist's
boldness. reproving Henry VIII; Wesley and
Whitefield, like flames of fire, "setting the kingdoms on a blaze"-these are the immortals in
the memory of coming generations; they scaled
the mount of struggling toil, and on its very
summit took the prize of glorious success. They
wavered not like the ocean billow, now creeping
up the slippery beach, now tossed back into the
watery waste; theirs was
"Thle star of the unconquered will,
Which rises in the breast
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possessed."
That was a sublime utterance of Pompey,
when, being about to embark for Rome, and his
friends would have dissuaded him from hazarding his life on a tempestuous sea, he made
answer, "It is necessary for me to go; it is not
necessary for me to live." Similar, but still
more grand was the memorable saying of Luther
under the gnarled old elm, whlich, it is said, still
marks the spot outside the city of Worms. We
imagine how the fire of his determined spirit
shone through his hard and homely features as
he spoke the decisive words, "Thoughl there
be as many devils in the way as there are tiles
on the houses I will go to Worms." Nor need
we look alone to the great men who stand en circled in a blaze of historic glory. Many of
the lowly and obscure had within them souls
of royal mold-souls that faltered not at sight
of persecution's bloody scourge. There were
the Huguenots who worshiped in desert places,
and forest wilds, and mountain fastnesses.
When any of them were discovered they were
sent to the galleys for life. These galleys were
large boats with long rows of tiers or benches
on each side; to each bench was attached a
long and heavy oar, pulled by six convicts who
were chained to the bench. Over these wretched
men were appointed commanders, who stood
with cruel whips, and their blows would descend
like hail on the backs of the rowers, that, under
the stimulus of torture, they might perform
prodigies of exertion; and for any that were
rebellious the terrible bastinado was reserved.
Here were these men chained to the bench by
pear, leaving the central twig to become a mighty
tree crowned with its dark-green foliage, and
bearing its fruit in triumph. What a sermon
of patient aspiration does the wild apple-tree
preach! As it has learned to struggle with its
bovine foes, still mounting upward all the while
as though determined to reach a higher atmosphere, clinging to its long-cherished vision of
the time yet coming when it should hold its
leafy cups to the vapors of the sky, so let
human nature struggle an; aspire in spite of
evil powers and fleshly appetites that browse
upon the springing tendrils of desire; not only
dreaming of the highest blessedness, but mounting upward, ever upward, to waving foliage and
golden fruit.
In that pleasing and instructive French classic-the "Telemaque" of Fenelon-the author
represents his hero as spending many days, entranced and enervated, in the voluptuous bowers
of the goddess Calypso, where music soft and
sensuous stole upon the ear, and beauty in all
its enticing forms captivated the eye. But there
was with the young man an aged and inseparable companion, the embodiment of wisdom, who
was called "Mentor," and who took an undying
interest in his youthful charge. Seeing the
deplorable effeminateness that was creeping over
one of so much promise, he took him to the
sea-shore, and pointed out to him a vessel in
the distance; then pushing him from the rock
on which they were standing into the sea, he
compelled the youth to struggle for the shl'p, on
reaching which hle broke free from the inglorious
shackles that had held him so long in bondage.
How often do the flowery wreaths of pleasure
bind the spirit as in chains of iron! How often
Folly flings her subtile charmi over the imagination and the senses! 0, for a "Mentor" to
cast the captive youth from the enchanted shores
into the sea, that he may struggle for a means
of hieing away to safer waters and a purer
clime!
We have all heard, in the days of our childhood, the story of the New England fathers,
how, when "the breaking waves dashed high,"
and the trees of the forest tossed their "giant
branches" against the sky, they landed "on a
stern and rock-bound coast." Strong, brave
men were they-men who were ready to lay
their all upon the altar of principle and conscience.
"What sought they from afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
rhe wealth of seas, the spoils of war?,
They sought a Faitla's pure shrine."
They are the type of the future "progressive
Americans," who, launching their" May Flower,"
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