Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-04-07
HARRY'S BRAVERY.
A Lesson on the Meaning of
 True Courage.

E- adelphia, and we boys, four in mum Der, were encouraged by him to live out of doors as much as possible. We played the national game, rowed, belonged to well-equipped private gymnasium, aud were hale and hearty accordingly; but especially did we prize the spring vacation which was always spent at our grandfather's farm, a beautiful spot in the Juanita valley, shut in by hills, and warmed by the sunshine, which always seemed to us to shine especially bright on our annual visit, as if to make up for the cloudy and stormy weather of March.
 At the time of which I speak, the anticipations before starting were especially joyous. Harry, Carl and Francis, aged respectively eleven, four teen and sixteen, had after earnest efforts in their school work been promoted each to the class above his former rank, and were in consequence proud and happy, though tired I, Royal by name, Q junior in a we'll known New England college, working steadily in the course, was not un- willing to spend week or two in quiet, searching the well-stored library which had the best that three generations of book lovers could buy on it's shelves, and before whose cheery open fire we gathered at even ing for stories and counsel from older and wiser minds
 We packed our bags, took our rods for trout fishing was often good, even in early April, in a well-stocked brook that ran along willow-fringed banks in the south pasture-and boarded the train. At the station the hired man met us with pair of Morgan horsSe !, than which do not remember to have seen better from that day to this, and we were soon at the hall door, shaking hands with grandmother and grand father, and, to our pleasant surprise, with Aunt Celia, who, unexpectedly to us, was at home. She was a widow, having lost her husband in the Mexi- can war, and was a teacher of modern languages in girls private school in southern New York. She was one of those rare natures that the heart in- stinctively trusts, and no one of the many grandchildren hesitated about telling Aunt Cecilia his or her troubles, always confident that something would be done toward making the rough place smooth or gaining the object sought.
 Carl and Francis were just at the age when feats of daring were a de- light to them. Harry was of a natur- ally timid nature, modest, and lacking sometimes in confidence, and so was often urged on by the other two, when he shrank from attempting anything, by such expressions as Don't be a coward, Harry!' "A girl could do fhaff'S Vxyhioh I1To were felt moro than blows of the lash would be. When was by, the boys would not indulge in these trials of strength or endurance. but in my ab- sence l knew they hurt his tender feel ings by their taunts, though really they did not intend to. A boy looks for what he calls courage in his play mate. and, if he does not see what ap- parently corresponds to his own, he thinks him a coward, while the braver of the two may really be the more diff fident and shrinking one.
 It was Saturday afternoon; we were to leave Monday morning, and had gone to the post office to mail a letter to our father, telling him to expect us Monday noon. Behind the barn was large oak tree from whose trunk q long branch ran horizontally toward the shed roof, though at a considerable distance above it. The boys had been pitching quoits near the tree, and, hay ing finished the game, looked about for some more exciting sport Francis thought he saw it, so he climbed the tree, crept out on the limb, hung by the arms moment and then dropped, with something of a jar, to be sure, but safely, on the roof, where he sat with satisfied look. He called to Carl to follow him. Carl, though unwilling to try it, was still more unwilling to ac- knowledge any superiority of his older brother in that line, so he, too climbed up, crept out, and, when he had found what he thought was a good place, and had called out two or three times: Fran, shall I strike all right?" dropped and was happy. Then they both called to Harry: Come on, Hal" but he, overcome by the fear he had felt that they would fall while attempt ing it, refused to make the trial. When they began to speak about what "a girl could do," grandfather came out of the back door, where he had been a silent spectator of the whole affair, patted Harry on the shoulder, assuring him that he'd more sense than Carl and Francis together, and bade the climbers come down at once.
 Grandfather was man of few words, and they obeyed. Nothing more was said. returned soon after We had tea as usual and adjourned to the library, where genial fire of hickory logs warmed and lighted the room Grandmother and grandfather sat fin their armchairs on each side of the broad hearth. l occupied m antique chair I had found in the attic, and which was to carry home for my own room. Carl and Francis sat on old fashioned crickets. while Aunt Celia had hef low willow rocker In front ns tte aFe and HnFrv 'aarnA hTssrsA