nductive process, purely
for the want of power to grapple with the premises which control the whole
demonstration.

Could Mary Pratt have known what was going on in Roswell Gardiner's soul
that night, her happiness would have been as boundless as her gratitude to
God. She would have seen the barrier that had so long interposed itself to
her wishes broken down; not by any rude hand, but by the influence of
those whisperings of the Divine Spirit, which open the way to men to fit
themselves for the presence of God.

Chapter XXVI.

"Let winter come! let polar spirits sweep
The darkening world, and tempest-troubled deep!"

Campbell.

While the bosom of Roswell was thus warming with the new-born faith, of
which the germ was just opening in his heart, Stimson came out upon the
terrace to see what had become of his officer. It was much past the hour
when the men got beneath the coverings of their mattresses; and the honest
boat-steerer, who had performed the duty on which he had been sent, was
anxious about Roswell's remaining so long in the open air, on this
positively the severest night of the whole season.

"You stand the cold well, Captain Gar'ner," said Stephen, as he joined
his officer; "but it might be prudent, now, to get under cover."

"I do not feel it cold, Stephen"--returned Roswell--"on the contrary, I'm
in a pleasant glow. My mind has been busy, while my frame has kept in
motion. When such are the facts, the body seldom suffers. But,
hearken--does it not seem that some one is calling to us from the
direction of the wreck?"

The great distance to which sounds are conveyed in intensely cold and
clear weather, is a fact known to most persons. Conversations in the
ordinary tone had been heard by the sealers when the speakers were nearly
a mile off; and, on several occasions, attempts had been made to hold
communications, by means of the voice, between the wreck and the hut.
Certain words _had_ been understood; but it was found impossible to hold
anything that could be termed conversation. Still, the voice had been
often heard, and a fancy had come over the mind of Roswell that he heard a
cry like a call for assistance, just as Stimson joined him.

"It is so late, sir, that I should hardly think any of the Vineyarders
would be up," observed the boat-steerer, after listening some little time
in the desire to catch the sound mentioned. "Then it is so cold, that most
men would like to get bene