I will lift his head, there gently, gently, my good fellows, I think he still breathes.

But Mrs.Travilla!" he added, looking toward the dwelling, "all seems quiet there; they have not heard, I think, and she should be warned.

I wish--" "I will go, I will tell mamma," interrupted a quivering child voice at his side.
Little Elsie had pushed her way through the crowd and dropping on her knees on the grass was raining kisses and tears upon the pale, unconscious face.
"You?
poor child!" Mr.Leland began in piteous tones; but she had already sprung to her feet and was flying toward the house with the fleetness of the wind.
One moment she paused in the spacious entrance hall, to recover her breath, calm her features, and remove the traces of her tears.

"Mamma, mamma," she was saying to herself, "O Lord Jesus give me the right words to speak to her." She hardly knew to which apartment to direct her steps, but "Hark! there was the sound of the piano and mamma's sweet voice singing a song papa had brought home only the other day, and that he liked.

Ah would she ever sing again now that he--" But no, not even in thought could she say that dreadful word; but she knew now that mamma was in the music room; and earnestly repeating her silent petition for help, she hurried thither.
The door was open; with swift, noiseless steps she gained her mother's side; passing an arm about her neck, and half averting her own pale, agitated face, "Mamma," she said in low, tremulous tones, "'God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble!' Mamma, Jesus loves you, Jesus loves you! He will help you to bear--" "My daughter, what is it ?" asked the mother in a tone of forced calmness, a terrible pang shooting through her heart, "your father?
Eddie?
Vi ?"--then starting up at a sound as of the feet of those who bore some heavy burden, she ran into the hail.
For a moment she stood as one transfixed with grief and horror.
"He breathes, he lives," Mr.Leland hastened to say.
Her lips moved but no words came from them.