Mrs. F. Don't frighten yourself. I shall stop the blood by pressing on the orifice with my finger. In the mean time do you ring the bell.

よ

[Eliza rings a servant comes. Mrs. F. Betty, my arm bleeds. Can you tie it up again?

Betty. I believe I can, madam.

[She takes off the bandage

and puts on another.

E. I hope it is stopped now.

Mrs. F. It is. Betty has done it very well. You see she went about it with composure. This accident puts me in mind of another story which is very well worth hearing. A man once reaping in the field cut his arm dreadfully with his sickle, and divided an artery.

E. What is that, mamma?

Mrs. F. It is one of the canals or pipes through which the blood from the heart runs like water in a pipe

brought from a reservoir. When one of these is cut, it bleeds very violently, and the only way to stop it is to make a pressure between the wounded place. and the heart, in order to intercept the course of the blood towards it. Well -this poor man bled profusely; and the people about him, both men and women, were so stupefied with fright, that some ran one way, some another, and some stood stock still. In short,

he would have soon bled to death, had not a brisk stout-hearted wench, who came up, slipped off her garter, and bound it tight above the wound, by which means the bleeding was stopped till proper help could be procured.

E. What a clever wench! But how did she know what to do?

Mrs. F. She had perhaps heard it, as you have done now; and so probably had some of the others, but they had not presence of mind enough to

put it into practice. It is a much greater trial of courage, however, when the danger presses upon ourselves as well as others. Suppose a furious bull was to come upon you in the midst of a field. You could not possibly escape him by running, and attempting it would destroy your only chance of safety.

E. What would that be ?

Mrs. F. I have a story for that too. The mother of that Mr. Day, who wrote Sandford and Merton, was distinguished, as he also was, for courage and presence of mind. When a young woman, she was one day walking in the fields with a companion, when they perceived a bull coming to them, roaring and tossing about his horns in the' most tremendous manner.

E. O, how I should have screamed! Mrs. F. I dare say you would; and so did her companion. But she bid her

walk away behind her as gently as she could, whilst she herself stopped short, and faced the bull, eyeing him with a determined countenance. The bull, when he had come near, stopped also, pawing the ground and roaring. Few animals will attack a man who steadily waits for him. In a while, she drew back some steps, still facing the bull. The bull followed. She stopped, and then he stopped. In this manner, she made good her retreat to the stile over which her companion had before got. She then turned and sprung over it; and got clear out of danger.

E. That was bravely done, indeed! But I think very few women could have done as much.

Mrs. F. Such a degree of cool resolution to be sure is not common.

But

I have read of a lady in the East Indies who showed at least as much. She was sitting out of doors with a party of

pleasure, when they were aware of a huge tiger that had crept through a hedge near them, and was just ready to make his fatal spring. They were struck with the utmost consternation; but she, with an umbrella in her hand, turned to the tiger, and suddenly spread it full in his face. This unusual assault so terrified the beast, that, taking a prodigious leap, he sprung over the fence, and plunged out of sight into the neighbouring thicket.

E. Well-that was the boldest thing I ever heard of. But is it possible, mamma, to make one's self courageous?

Mrs. F. Courage, my dear, is of two kinds; one the gift of nature, the other of reason and habit. Men have naturally more courage than women; that is, they are less affected by danger; it makes a less impression upon them, and does not flutter their spirits