rattle. "Fight--with these?--What are you doing, Jael?"

For she had taken down a large Book--the last Book in the house she
would have taken under less critical circumstances, and with it was
trying to stop up a broken pane.

"No, my good Jael, not this;" and he carefully replaced the volume;
that volume, in which he might have read, as day after day, and year
after year, we Christians generally do read, such plain words as
these--"Love your enemies;" "bless them that curse you;" "pray for
them that despitefully use you and persecute you."

A minute or two John stood with his hand on the Book, thinking. Then
he touched me on the shoulder.

"Phineas, I'm going to try a new plan--at least, one so old, that
it's almost new. Whether it succeeds or no, you'll bear me witness
to your father that I did it for the best, and did it because I
thought it right. Now for it."

To my horror, he threw up the window wide, and leant out.

"My men, I want to speak to you."

He might as well have spoken to the roaring sea. The only answer was
a shower of missiles, which missed their aim. The rioters were too
far off--our spiked iron railings, eight feet high or more, being a
barrier which none had yet ventured to climb. But at length one
random stone hit John on the chest.