at least should be sacred in our eyes; and that while God gives us minds
to think just and charitable and honorable thoughts, it should be, and
is, our privilege, as well as our duty, not only to feed the hungry
stomach that resides in a rascal, having pity for its sorrow and its
need, but to do it gladly, gratefully, in recognition of its sturdy and
loyal maintenance of its purity and innocence in the midst of temptation
and in company so repugnant to its better feelings. I am done."

Well, you never saw such an effect! They rose--the whole house rose--an
clapped, and cheered, and praised him to the skies; and one after
another, still clapping and shouting, they crowded forward, some with
moisture in their eyes, and wrung his hands, and said such glorious
things to him that he was clear overcome with pride and happiness, and
couldn't say a word, for his voice would have broken, sure. It was
splendid to see; and everybody said he had never come up to that speech
in his life before, and never could do it again. Eloquence is a power,
there is no question of that. Even old Jacques d'Arc was carried away,
for once in his life, and shouted out:

"It's all right, Joan--give him the porridge!"

She was embarrassed, and did not seem to know what to say, and so didn't
say anything. It was because she had given the man the porridge long ago
and he had already eaten it all up. When she was asked why she had not
waited until a decision was arrived at, she said the man's stomach was
very hungry, and it would not have been wise to wait, since she could not
tell what the decision would be. Now that was a good and thoughtful idea
for a child.

The man was not a rascal at all. He was a very good fellow, only he was