Many, many years ago a fierce war raged in India between the
English and Tipu Sahib. On one occasion several English officers were
taken prisoners. Among them was one named Baird. One day the native
officer brought in fetters to be put upon each of the prisoners, the
wounded not excepted. Baird had been severely wounded and was suffering
from pain and weakness.
A gray-haired officer said to the native official, "You do not think of putting chains upon that wounded man?"
"There are just as many pairs of fetters as there are prisoners," was the answer, "and every pair must be worn."
"Then," said the noble officer, "put two pairs on me. I will wear
his as well as my own." This was done. Strange to say, Baird lived to
regain his freedom, and lived to take that city; but his noble,
unselfish friend died in prison.
Up to his death, he wore two pairs of fetters. But what if he had
worn the fetters of all the prisoners? What if, instead of being
captive himself, he had quitted a glorious palace, to live in their
loathsome dungeon, to wear their chains, to bear their stripes, to
suffer and die for them, that they might go free, and free forever? Sophie Bronson Titterington
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