rope around a third man, when she felt her breath
failing. Tying another rope to her long, curly hair, she swooned, but
was drawn up with the man, to be quickly revived by fresh air and
stimulants. The fourth man was dead when his body was pulled up, on
account of the delay from the fainting of Catherine.

Two French officers at Waterloo were advancing to charge a greatly
superior force. One, observing that the other showed signs of fear,
said, "Sir, I believe you are frightened." "Yes, I am," was the reply,
"and if you were half as much frightened, you would run away."

"That's a brave man," said Wellington, when he saw a soldier turn pale
as he marched against a battery; "he knows his danger, and faces it."

"There are many cardinals and bishops at Worms," said a friend to
Luther, "and they will burn your body to ashes as they did that of John
Huss." Luther replied: "Although they should make a fire that should
reach from Worms to Wittenberg, and that should flame up to heaven, in
the Lord's name I would pass through it and appear before them." He
said to another: "I would enter Worms though there were as many devils
there as there are tiles upon the roofs of the houses." Another said:
"Duke George will surely arrest you." He replied: "It is my duty to
go, and I will go, though it rain Duke Georges for nine days together."

"Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise, God help me," exclaimed Luther at
the Diet of Worms, facing his foes.

A Western paper recently invited the surviving Union and Confederate
officers to give an account of the bravest act observed by each during
the Civil War. Colonel Thomas W. Higginson said that at a dinner at
Beaufort, S. C., where wine flowed freely and ribald jests were
bandied, Dr. Miner, a slight, boyish fellow who did not drink, was told
that he could not go until he had drunk a toast, told a story, or sung
a song. He replied: "I cannot sing, but I will give a toast, although
I must drink it in water. It is 'Our Mothers.'" The men were so
affected and ashamed that some took him by the hand and thanked him for
displaying courage greater than that required to walk up to the mouth
of a cannon.

It took great courage for the commercial Quaker, John Bright, to
espouse a cause which called down upon his head the derision and scorn
and hatred of the Parliament. For years he rested under a cloud of
obloquy, but Bright was made of stern stuff. It was only his strength
of char