before daylight, Dr. Frank Winthrop left his own house for a visit to
the hospital. There were no cars running, and he would not think of
rousing his coachman, or even his horses, to breast such a storm; for
his errand might be a prolonged one, and was, indeed, a case of life
or death. At ten o'clock he had left a patient in a most critical
condition, and was now returning to further attend the sufferer. His
ulster was fastened tightly about him, his head thrust deeply into his
collar, his hands in his pockets, and with teeth grimly set he faced
the night.

"Two miles, if it's a block! Well, it's useless to try and see one's
way. The street lamps, such as are still burning, make an occasional
glimmer in the fog of snowflakes and are almost more misleading than
none at all. But I've walked the route so often, I'll just trust to my
feet to find their own road, and to Providence that I may reach my
man in time!"

Robust and determined as the good physician was, he was almost
overcome by the cold and the struggle through the unbroken drifts;
while his whole person soon became so covered with the flying flakes
that he looked like a great snow-man itself, suddenly made alive and
set in motion. But the hope of easing pain gave him courage to
persevere; and finally he came within a short distance of the great
building whose dimly lighted windows made a dull redness through the
storm.

"There she is, the blessed old house of comfort! Her wards are like to
be full this night. And that was the very hardest walk I ever took. I
hope, I pray, it has not been for nothing."

Just then his foot stumbled against some half-buried obstruction, and
stooping, the doctor touched the object with his hands.

"Oh! as I feared! A human being. A child--a boy. Overcome and maybe
frozen. Poor little chap, poor little chap!"

Unbuttoning his overcoat the physician struck a match within the
shelter of its flap, and by its flare scanned the small face
from which he had brushed away the snow. Then he uttered another
exclamation of surprise and lifting the little, rigid figure in his
arms, folded his great-coat about it and started forward with renewed
energy.

"Whatever is a child like this doing down here in this part of town?
If it weren't for his clothes I might think he was a newsboy headed
for Newspaper Square, yonder; but newsboys don't wear velvet attire,
or hats with wide brims and drooping feathers, like a girl's 'picture'
headgear.