he resigned leadership, but the little group passed a horrible
five minutes of bereavement and then re-elected him with many
promises of support. Sublime old madman!--if mad indeed he was!
Had he not made them all feel like himself, 'that they have but
one life and once to die; and if they lose their lives perchance
it will do more for the cause than their lives would be worth in
any other way?'

One reluctant darkie, rescued by him from slavery, was challenged
to say what he would do. He hesitated--looked at his shaggy old
benefactor, and then, with heart surcharged with gratitude, said,
'I believe I'll go wid de ole man.'

Ah! the old man's soul had entered into them--it kept them
'marching on.' In the dark, wet night of October 16, 1859, they
mustered quietly. The captain addressed them, and he was no
reckless destroyer of human life who thus spake: 'Gentlemen, let
me press this one thing on your minds. You all know how dear
life is to you, and how dear your lives are to your friends; and
in remembering that, consider that the lives of others are as
dear. Do not therefore take the life of any one if you can
possibly avoid it, but if it is necessary to take life in order
to save your own, then make sure work of it.'

Two of them were deputed to hasten, when the town was in their
hands, to Colonel Washington's house, four miles distant--to
seize him, free his slaves, and take the relic of the house, the
famed sword of his illustrious ancestor George Washington, that
with this in hand John Brown might head the campaign. That feat
they actually performed, and for one brief day their leader bore