I was roused from my stupor by the voice of my children.

I then remembered that I had not lost all: there still remained duties to fulfil, and affection to console me.

"My children," cried I, extending my arms to them, "come and comfort your unfortunate father: come and lament with him the best of wives and mothers." Terrified at the appearance of their mother, they surrounded her bed, calling on her in piercing accents.

At that moment I saw my little Francis was missing, and my grief was augmented by the fear that he had been killed by the lightning.

I hastily turned to the window, expecting to find my child dead, and our dwelling in flames.
Fortunately, all was safe; but, in my distraction, I scarcely thanked God for His mercy, at the very moment even when he graciously restored to me my lost treasures.