BRAVE HANS by Mary B. Sleight

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 10, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 44.

BRAVE HANS.

By Mary B. Sleight

BY MARY B. SLEIGHT.

He lived in fair Holland, far famed for its dykes, The valiant young hero whose story is told By hearthstone and cradle, in castle and hut— The boy that saved Holland, alone in the cold.

One day it so chanced that he started on foot A visit to pay for the night to a friend; And all the long journey it gladdened his heart To think of the welcome he'd find at the end.

With a song on his lips he fared on his way, Past windmills and bridges, past village and town, Then through the wide meadows that stretch to the sea, Walled in by the dyke that holds the sea down;

Till, hist! hark! a horror that curdled his blood, And brought him in fright and dismay to a stop. Not a boy in Holland but knew what it meant— That sound of the water, slow falling, drip-drop!

For, small as it seemed, should he pass on his way, And leave there a leakage all night to creep in, Ere morning brought workmen the break to repair, On Holland's fair cities the sea would sweep in.

And swift came a vision of ruin and wreck— Of horses and cattle all dead in the stall, Of beautiful homes borne away by the flood, Of mother and child lying deaf to love's call.

Aghast at the picture, and heedless of self, He wedged in the crevice his little brown thumb, Then shouted for help; but the shriek of the waves Alone came in answer, and smote his heart dumb.

Still waiting and watching, he saw the day wane, With never a thought of deserting his post, For better to die there, he said to himself, Than to let into Holland the sea's hungry host.

The night gathered darkly, with swift-spreading clouds; Above the wild marshes there gleamed not a star; The winds howled about him like wolves after prey, And wild the sea bellowed beyond the low bar;

But through the long hours unflinching he stood, Though each breath was a prayer for the coming of day; And while Holland slept, not dreaming of ill, That brave little hand held the ocean at bay.

At morning they found him still guarding the dyke, All spent with the perils the young heart had braved— Half fainting with hunger, and chilled to the bone— But what mattered that since Holland was saved?

Men gathered about him in speechless amaze, Grew pallid with terror, then shouted and wept; All thought of the battle he'd won for them there, Alone in the darkness, while other boys slept.

In triumph they bore him safe back to his home— The home he had feared he might never behold— And all over Holland, in cottage and hall, With tears and thanksgiving the story was told.

"Three cheers and a tiger" for brave little Hans, Who challenged the sea with his thumb for a spike. Let us stand by our country whatever betide, Like Holland's young hero that stood by the dyke.

—Treasure Trove.