"When General Jackson was a judge and was holding court in a small settlement, a border ruffian, a murderer and desperado, came into the court-room with brutal violence and interrupted the court. The judge ordered him to be arrested. The officer did not dare approach him. "Call a posse," said the judge, "and arrest him." But they also shrank in fear from the ruffian. "Call me, then," said Jackson; "this court is adjourned for five minutes." He left the bench, walked straight up to the man, and with his eagle eye actually cowed the ruffian, who dropped his weapons, afterwards saying, "There was something in his eyes I could not resist." 

Pushing To the Front.

  I read this story from the book, "Pushing to the Front, by Orison S. Marden, about twenty years ago and was never able to find it again; finally! I found it. This is well worth the read; actually, the entire book should be read by everyone, it is filled with stories of faith, courage, honor, from the history of early America. It is free online.

"A woman's piercing shriek suddenly startled a party of surveyors at lunch in a forest in northern Virginia in 1750. The cries were repeated in a quick succession, and the men sprang through the undergrowth to learn the cause. "Oh, sir," exclaimed the woman as she caught sight of a youth of eighteen, but a man in stature and bearing; "you will surely do something for me! Make my friends release me. My boy, my poor boy is drowning, and they will not let me go!"

"It would be madness: she will jump into the river," said one of the men who was holding her; "and the rapids will dash her to pieces in a moment!" Throwing off his coat, the youth sprang to the edge of the bank, scanned the rocks and whirling currents for a moment, and then, at the sight of part of the boy's dress, plunged into the roaring rapids. "Thank God, he will save my child!" cried the mother, and everyone rushed to the brink of the precipice; "there he is! Oh, my boy, my darling boy! How could I leave you?"

  But all eyes were bent upon the youth struggling with strong heart and hope amid the dizzy sweep of the whirling currents far below. Now it seemed as if he would be dashed against a projecting rock, over which the foaming water flew, and again, a whirlpool looked to drag him in, from whose grasp escape would seem impossible. Twice the boy went out of sight, but he had reappeared the second time, although terribly near the most dangerous part of the river. The rush of waters here was tremendous, and no one had ever dared to approach it, even in a canoe, lest he should be dashed to pieces. The youth redoubled his exertions. Three times he was about to grasp the child, when some stronger eddy would toss it from him. One final effort he makes; the child is held aloft by his strong right arm; but a cry of horror bursts from the lips of every spectator as boy and man shoot over the falls and vanish in the seething waters below.

  "There they are!" shouted the mother a moment later, in a delirium of joy. "See! they are safe! Great God, I thank thee!" And sure enough, they emerged unharmed from the boiling vortex, and in a few minutes reached a low place in the bank and were drawn up by their friends, the boy senseless, but still alive, and the youth almost exhausted.

"God will give you a reward," solemnly spoke the grateful woman. "He will do great things for you in return for this day's work, and the blessings of thousands besides mine will attend you."

    The youth was George Washington.

Once I ducked under an archway to avoid a downpour, and there was a man there, seeking the same rescue. We talked for a few minutes and then went on our separate ways; as I walked away I felt as though in those few minutes he left an indelible mark on me; there was a congeniality, a wisdom and humility that won't soon be forgotten. He reminded me of the quote --

   "His lips drink water but his heart drinks wine." E.E. Cummings.

  "During the siege of Charleston, during the Revolutionary War, a Lieutenant de Rochelle, was about to be united in marriage to Miss Anna Pickens, the daughter of Ex-Governor Pickens at the home of a General. As the clergyman was asking the bride if she was ready, a bomb-shell fell upon the roof of the house, penetrated to the room where the company were assembled, and burst and wounded nine persons, and among them, the bride. When order was at last restored the bride lay motionless upon the carpet. Her betrothed, kneeling and bending over her was weeping bitterly, and trying to stop the blood that welled from a terrible wound under her left breast. A surgeon came and declared that Miss Pickens had not more than two hours to live. When informed of this, the heroic bride said, "I beg you to tell me the truth. If I must die, I can die worthy of you." The young soldier's tears were his answer, and Miss Anna, summoning all her strength, attempted to smile. Nothing could be more heart-rending to see the agony of this brave girl, struggling in the embrace of death and against a terrible mortal pang. Gov. Pickens, whose courage is known, was almost without consciousness."  Lieut. de Rochelle was the first to speak. "Anna," he cried, "I will die soon, too, but I would have you die my wife. There is yet time to unite us"

  She lay upon a sofa, her bridal robes soaked with her own blood, her hair disheveled, yet she had never been more beautiful, helpless as she was. The clergyman asked the questions, to which she assented, while the groom held her hand. Another had even now come for her; the foam was upon her lips as the service ended. Within an hour the bridal chamber was the place of mourning, and death had claimed her for his own bride."

  "I make not my head a grave, but a treasury of knowledge; I intend no monopoly, but a community in learning; I study not for my own sake only, but for theirs that study not for themselves; I envy no man that knows more than myself, but pity them that know less. I instruct no man as an exercise of my knowledge, or with an intent other than to nourish and keep it alive in my own head, and beget and propagate it in his; and, in the midst of all my endeavors, there is but one thought that dejects me --- that my acquired talents must perish with myself, nor can be legacied among my honored friends." 
Brown.

  " In the seventh century there came to the city of Alexandria an old man of sixty in a monk's garb. He first secured the names of all the abandoned women of the city. He obtained wok for himself, and at night, taking the wages of the day, went to one of these women, and after supping with her, gave her his day’s earnings saying, "I give thee this that thou mayest spend one night without sin." Then he passed the night praying for the woman with many tears. Going forth he exacted the promise that his visit should not be revealed while he lived. Much scandal soon grew out of these visits. The monk refused to give any account of it saying, "There is one Judge and one day of judgment, wherein every man shall give account of his own works." He bore the reproach and suspicion without murmuring, neither letting his benevolent work be known, lest the houses of ill-fame should be closed against him, nor desisting from it. At last, coming one morning from a harlot's door, a man saw him and struck him, saying,

"How, you rascal, do you outrage Christ by not mending your wicked ways." The monk went to his chamber to die, and the man entered the harlot's house and there learned of his noble work. He was struck with contrition and went into the streets proclaiming how he and the people had wronged the monk. A crowed followed the man as he went to beg the monk's pardon. They found him kneeling with hands clasped cold in death. Before him lay the text in writing, "Judge nothing before the time until the Lord comes, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart." At his funeral great numbers who had been reformed by him, walked in procession before his body, bearing lamps and candles crying, "We have lost our deliverer and instructor," and narrating their rescue through his prayers and zeal for their souls. Thus was manifest how great a work he had done. This is the authentic story of St. Vitalis."