he angry waters must
stay back now! Haarlem shall not be drowned while I am here!

"This was all very well at first, but the night was falling rapidly.
Chill vapors filled the air. Our little hero began to tremble with cold
and dread. He shouted loudly; he screamed, 'Come here! come here!' but
no one came. The cold grew more intense, a numbness, commencing in the
tired little finger, crept over his hand and arm, and soon his whole
body was filled with pain. He shouted again, 'Will no one come? Mother!
Mother!' Alas, his mother, good, practical soul, had already locked the
doors and had fully resolved to scold him on the morrow for spending
the night with blind Jansen without her permission. He tried to whistle.
Perhaps some straggling boy might heed the signal, but his teeth
chattered so, it was impossible. Then he called on God for help. And
the answer came, through a holy resolution: 'I will stay here till
morning.'"

"Now, Jenny Dobbs," said the teacher. Jenny's eyes were glistening, but
she took a long breath and commenced.

"The midnight moon looked down upon that small, solitary form, sitting
upon a stone, halfway up the dike. His head was bent but he was not
asleep, for every now and then one restless hand rubbed feebly the
outstretched arm that seemed fastened to the dike--and often the pale,
tearful face turned quickly at some real or fancied sounds.

"How can we know the sufferings of that long and fearful watch--what
falterings of purpose, what childish terrors came over the boy as he
thought of the warm little bed at home, of his parents, his brothers and
sisters, then looked into the cold, dreary night! If he drew away that
tiny finger, the angry waters, grown angrier still, would rush forth,
and never stop until they had swept over the town. No, he would hold it
there till daylight--if he lived! He was not very sure of living. What
did this strange buzzing mean? And then the knives that seemed pricking
and piercing him from head to foot? He was not certain now that he could
draw his finger away, even if he wished to.

"At daybreak a clergyman, returning from the bedside of a sick
parishioner, thought he heard groans as he walked along on the top of
the dike. Bending, he saw, far down on the side, a child apparently
writhing with pain.

"'In the name of wonder, boy,' he exclaimed, 'what are you doing there?'

"'I am keeping the water from running out,' was the simple answer of the
little hero. 'Tell