nly the ears
of Andrew, startled and unnerved him. A quick muscular exhaustion
followed, and ere he could recover from the confusion and weakness
of the moment, his hands were dragged from their hold, and he went
flashing down from the eyes of his mother like the passing of a
lightning gleam. Another scream thrilled on the air, and then Mrs.
Howland sunk swooning to the floor.

Mr. Howland was just stepping into the yard, when his son fell,
crushed by the terrific fall, at his feet.

"Oh, father!" came in a voice of anguish from the yet conscious boy,
as he lifted one hand with a feeble effort toward his parent. Then a
deathly whiteness came ever his face, and he fainted instantly.

On the arrival of a physician it was found that Andrew's left arm
was broken in two places, his left ancle dislocated, and two ribs
fractured. As to the internal injury sustained, no estimate could be
made at the time. He did not recover fully from the state of
insensibility into which he lapsed after the fall, until the work of
setting the broken bones and reducing the dislocation was nearly
over. His first utterance was to ask for his mother. She was not
present, however. Her cries, at seeing the peril and fall of her
child, brought a domestic to the room, who found her lying
insensible upon the floor. Assistance being called, she was removed
to her own chamber, where she remained, apparently lifeless for the
space of half an hour. When she recovered, her husband was pacing
the chamber floor with slow, measured steps, and his eyes cast down.

"Andrew! Is he dead?" were her first words. She spoke in a low
voice, and with forced composure.

Mr. Howland paused, and approached the bed on which lay his pale
exhausted wife, just awakened from her death-like unconsciousness.

"No, Esther. He is not dead," was calmly replied.

"Is he badly hurt"?

The mother held her breath for a reply.

"Yes, badly, I fear," answered Mr. Howland, in the same calm voice.

"Will he live?" almost gasped the mother.

"God only knows," replied Mr. Howland. Then glancing his eyes upward
piously, he added, "If it be His will to remove him, I--"

"Oh, Andrew! don't say that!" quickly exclaimed the mother. "Don't
say that!"

"Yes, Esther, I will say it," returned Mr. Howland, in a steady
voice. "If it be His good pleasure to remove him, I will not murmur.
He will be safer _there_ than here."

"Oh, my poor, poor boy!" sobbed Mrs. Howland. "My poor, poor b