"This gentleman will take care of me," she replied, calmly laying her hand within the arm of a burly rioter with a club, who had just sprung upon the platform.

"Wh--what did you say ?" stammered the astonished rowdy, as he looked at the little woman; "yes, I'll take care of you, and no one shall touch a hair of your head." With this he forced a way for her through the crowd, and, at her earnest request, placed her upon a stump and stood guard with his club while she delivered an address so effective that the audience offered no further violence, and even took up a collection of twenty dollars to repay Mr.Foster for the damage his clothes had received when the riot was at its height.
"Luck is ever waiting for something to turn up," says Cobden; "labor, with keen eyes and strong will, will turn up something.

Luck lies in bed, and wishes the postman would bring him the news of a legacy; labor turns out at six o'clock, and with busy pen or ringing hammer lays the foundation of a competence.

Luck whines; labor whistles.

Luck relies on chance; labor, on character." There is no luck, for all practical purposes, to him who is not striving, and whose senses are not all eagerly attent.