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with a leap that launched them along side the Roman's car. The four were close outside Mescala's outer wheel, Ben Hur's inner wheel behind the other's car. He turned to the left, and, with the iron-shod point of his axle crushed the wheel of Messala. A loud crash sent a thrill through the circus.
Down on its right side toppled the bed of the Roman's chariot. There was a rebound as the axle hit the hard earth; another and another; then the car went to pieces, and Messala, entangled in the reins, pitched headlong forward.
The people arose, leaped upon the benches, and shouted and screamed, but far the greater number followed the career of Ben Hur, whose maddening energy of action had so suddenly inspired his Arabs, and so unexpectedly vanquished his enemy. The thousands on the benches had not seen the cunning touch of the reins by which he had been able to overthrow Messala, but they had seen the transformation of the man, and above the noises of the race they had heard one voice, and that Ben Hur’s. In the old Aramaic, as the Sheik himself, he had called to the Arabs :
“On, Atair! On, Rigel! What, Antares ! dost thou linger now? Good horse—oho, Aldebaran! I hear them singing in the tents. I hear them singing in the tents—singing of the stars, of Atair, Antares, Rigel, Aldebaran, and Victory !” Ben Hur turned the first goal and won the race.
The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story :
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Oh, hark! Oh, hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going:
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow-let us hear the purple glens replying ; Blow, bugle-answer, echoes,
Oh, love! they die in yon rich sky;
They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And live forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow—set the wild echoes flying ; And answer, echoes, answer,
O the long and dreary winter!
Hardly from his buried wigwam
O the famine and the fever!
O the anguish of the women!
And the lovely Minnehaha Shuddered as they looked upon her, Lay down on her bed in silence, Hid her face, but made no answer At the fearful words they uttered.
Forth into the empty forest
“Gitche Manito, the Mighty!
children food, O father! Give me food for Minnehaha : For my dying Minnehaha!”
Through that far-resounding forest
In the wigwam with Nokomis, She was lying, the beloved, She the dying Minnehaha. “Hark!” she said; “I hear a rushing, Hear the Falls of Minnehaha Calling to me from a distance !” “No, my child,” said old Nokomis, “'Tis the night-wind in the pine trees." “Ah!” she said, "the eyes of Pauguk Glare upon me in the darkness ; I can feel his icy fingers Clasping mine amid the darkness!
And the desolate Hiawatha,
Far away amid the forest, Heard the sudden cry of anguish, Heard the voice of Minnehaha Calling to him in the darkness
“ Hiawatha! Hiawatha!”
Over snowfields, waste and pathless,
6 Farewell !” said he, Minnehaha!
MASTERS OF THE SITUATION.
A great mastery-like that of Wellington or Bismarck—is not 80 common in the world as to excite no surprise. True mastery is compact of supreme qualities. It is heroism ; it is culture ; it is enthusiasm ; it is faith ; it is intelligence; it is endurance; it is unconquerable will. There are men of conviction whose
faces will light up an era.
And there are noble women in whose eyes you may almost read the whole plan of salvation.
Insight, foresight, and knowledge are what the world demands of a great leader-men who have power to transmute calamity into greatness. To a real commander, nothing exists which cannot be
“Sir," said Mirabeau's secretary, "what you require is impossible. Impossible !” cried Mirabeau. “ Never name to me again that blockhead of a word.”
If any man was ever master of the situation, from his boundless knowledge, abundant language, instantaneous apprehension, and undaunted speech, it was Edmund Burke. The vastness of his attainments and the immensity of his varied powers startled his great contemporaries into admiration. Goldsmith, Windham, Pitt, and others have left on record eloquent testimony to the superiority
of Burke's genius, and the striking fact that he was the best informed man of his time. Did this great statesman lounge carelessly into all this reputation? Did he rely solely upon his genius to bring him into parliament, to continue that long and brilliant career which is part of English history ? Never for a moment did he trust to his genius. See him at the top of his high fame, elaborating every speech, every sentence he wrote, with the most studious care-studious and exhaustive care.
All great leaders have been inspired with a great belief. In nine cases out of ten, failure is born of unfaith. There is a faith so expansive and a hope so elastic that a man having them will keep on believing and hoping till all danger is past and victory is sure. Such a man was Cyrus Field, who spent so many years of his life in perfecting a communication second only in importance to the discovery of this country. It was a long, hard struggle. Thirteen years of anxious watching and ceaseless toil were his. Think what that enthusiast accomplished by his untiring energy. He made fifty voyages across the Atlantic. And when everything looked darkest for his enterprise, his courage never flagged for an instant. Think of him in those gloomy periods, pacing the decks of ships on dark, stormy nights, in mid-ocean, or wandering in the desolate forests of Newfoundland in pelting rains, comfortless and forlorn. Public excitement had grown wild over the mysterious workings of those flashing wires. And when the first cable ceased to throb, the reaction was intense. Stockholders and the public grew exasperated and suspicious; unbelievers sneered at the whole project, and called the telegraph a stupendous hoax. At last day dawned again, and another cable was paid out. Twelve hur dred miles of it was laid down, and the ship was just lifting her head to a stiff breeze, when, without a moment's warning, the cable suddenly snapped short off and plunged into the sea. Field returned to England defeated. But his energy was even greater than before. In five months, by the blessing of heaven, another cable was stretched from continent to continent.
Then came that never-to-be-forgotten search in four ships for the lost cable. In the bow of one of these ships stood Cyrus Field, day and night, in storm and fog, in squall and calm, intently watching the quiver of the grapnel that was dragging two miles down on the bottom of the deep. The spirit of this brave man was rewarded.