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the dainty little park, at the entrance of the lower mile of Broadway, stands the finest statue in all New York. A young school-master,—a Yale man of the class of 1773,—a Connecticut Ranger,—who had cut out a provision-ship right from under the eyes of a British man-of-war; arrested and sentenced as a spy; his ankles lashed together his arms pinioned behind his back facing death yet the clear-cut, brave, superb face in no way showing it calmly telling his captors words which should be graven upon the wall of every school-room in America "I regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."