“‘These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of men and women. We have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.’” “Now see here,” broke in the youth in an injured tone sitting bolt upright. “That’s mean! Downright mean, I say, to take advantage of a fellow like that. If you want to begin again on that summer soldier business, why say so right out.” “Does thee object very seriously, John, to listening?” queried the maiden mildly. “I would like to read thee the article.” “Oh, go ahead! I guess I can stand it.” Drayton set his lips together grimly, and half turned from her. Peggy waited for no further permission. The pamphlet was one of the most powerful written by Thomas Paine, and, as he passed from paragraph to paragraph of the tremendous harangue, he touched with unfailing skill, with matchless power, the springs of anxiety, contempt, love of home, love of country, fortitude, cool deliberation and passionate resolve. Drayton listened for a time in silence, with a sullen and injured air. Slowly he turned toward the reader as though compelled against his will, and presently he sprang to his feet with something like a sob. “In pity, cease,” he cried. “Hast no compassion for a man?” [Illustration: SLOWLY HE TURNED TOWARD THE READER] But Peggy knew that now was the time to drive the lesson home, so steeling her heart to pity, she continued the pamphlet, closing with the peroration which was such a battle call as might almost startle slain patriots from their graves: “‘Up and help us; lay your shoulders to the wheel; better have too much force than too little, when so great an object is at stake. Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, the country and city, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet and repulse it.... It matters not where you live, or what rank of life you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all.... The heart that feels not now is dead. The blood of his children will curse his cowardice who shrinks back at a time when a little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. ’Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles until death.... By perseverance and fortitude, we have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice and submission the sad choice of a variety of evils,—a ravaged country, a depopulated city, habitations without safety, and slavery without hope. Look on this picture and weep over it; and if there yet remains one thoughtless wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it unlamented.’”