Blair stood up as he spoke, and waved his knife in a manner more emphatic than elegant. A speech, one of his favorite speeches, seemed imminent. Blair did love to hear himself talk. "My son, our question in life is not what we _like_, but what is _duty_. I think the laws of the kingdom of heaven should be the guide to every lover of his country. The voice of our Saviour is, '_Come_ unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.' 'The Spirit and the bride say, _Come_; and let him that heareth say, _Come._' Every true Christian echoes the saying of St. Paul, 'I would to God that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I am, except these bonds.' So it should be with every favored citizen of our happy land. We should welcome the oppressed of every clime, and strive to make them worthy partakers of the blessings we enjoy. I do not like to hear you say you hate any nation. We are all of one blood, made in God's image." "Dear mother," said Blair, "you are right; you are always right. How thankful I ought to be to have such a guide, and such a help in keeping my new resolutions. I want to do my duty even when it is hard for me. You shall see what a friend I will be to Hal. I mean to go out as soon as I have done breakfast, and see if I can look him up some steady work. I heard Old Jock say on Saturday he wanted a strong boy to help him handle his nets. I'll try to get the place for Hal." Blair was as prompt to act as to plan. A half hour after breakfast was over he was standing by the cottage of an old fisherman and knocking for admittance. It took all Blair's powers of persuasion to induce Jock to have any thing to do with what he called a "furriner." The case seemed well-nigh lost, when Blair mounted on a chair, and made a small speech in his best style for the benefit of his single auditor. Whether won over by its logic or through a sense of the honor thus conferred upon him, Jock agreed to Blair's proposition. "The first speech I ever made to any purpose," thought Blair, as he walked rapidly along the shore, wending his way to Mrs. McKinstry's dwelling. Hal had locked himself into his "castle," as the only way in which he could escape the merciless scolding of his voluble hostess. She seemed to consider every stain on the injured garments a blot on the shield of the English boy which no apologies could excuse or efface. Hal fairly fled before the enemy; and once safe in his own room, whistled so lustily as to drown all sound of the railing from without.