"They may not have been fishing," said Schillie. I did not heed her until the sharp cry of a child in pain struck on my ear. We rushed towards the place, and found Oscar supporting his brother, who was screaming violently. They were alive; all other things seemed to me as nothing. As I took him in my arms, Oscar told me that, finding the fish would not bite, and feeling excessively tired, they had agreed to go to a shady ledge on the rocks, and sleep for an hour. He was awakened by a strange noise, as well as being thrown rather violently from the place where he lay; opening his eyes, he beheld Felix some feet below him, lying apparently dead. He ran and picked him up, and throwing some water on his face from the brook near which they had lain down, in the course of some minutes he opened his eyes and knew his brother, but on moving he shrieked with pain. Oscar wrung his hands, and cried as he said, "Oh, Mother, Mother, what is the matter, will he die? Who has hurt him? What has happened? Oh my brother, my brother, I should die for my Felix." The sight of Oscar's distress caused a cessation in Felix's screams. He put out one little hand, and said, "Don't cry, Otty, I'll bear it, only don't cry so." "Bear what, my darling," said I, "where are you hurt?" "I am hurted all about, Mama; but is it a snake that has eaten me, or who killed me? I'll be a man, dear Otty. I'll not scream any more, if you will only not cry so, because I shall cry, I know I shall, I must cry just a little, but it is not the pain." As he tried thus to comfort his brother, the colour fled from his cheeks, his eyes closed, the rosy lips paled, he fell back in my arms motionless. I thought he was dead, but he was in my arms, the wild waves had him not for their prey; could it be possible that I felt comforted as I clasped him closer? Wine was brought, water poured on his face; and, as we laid him on the sward, his right arm fell in an unnatural position. It was broken. Stripping off his clothes, and carefully examining, we found him bruised in various places, but no other bones injured save the collar bone. Schillie set both arm and collar bone. We bandaged them as well as we could, and then carefully carrying him to the old tent place, we did our best to restore him to consciousness. In this we succeeded; and, though for many days he lay in a dangerous fever, once that was subdued he grew well astonishingly fast. The arm reunited perfectly, but the collar bone retains a lump on it to this day.

The first symptom he gave us of returning health and strength was in a conversation he had with his beloved Jenny, who was so occupied in nursing him her attentions to us were of the most scanty kind. Imagine a little figure, clothed in a little white gown, his arm and shoulder bandaged up, lying on a lot of cushions. The smallest little white face peeped out from a mass of hair, and a little brown monkey, with a face about the same size, watches the different clouds of restlessness or pleasure that passed over the little white face with a curious mixture of wonder and curiosity. Jenny appears with a dish and exposes it to view. The little invalid, with a lordly air, surveys his dinner.

Felix.—"A nasty chicken again, Jenny."

Jenny.—"Oh, Sir, I have roasted it to a turn, and here is egg sauce."

Felix.—"Then give me the egg sauce, and you may have the chicken. I wish chickens were never invented."

Jenny.—"Would you like a duck, Sir?"

Felix.—"No, duck is nastier. I want a mutton chop, Jenny."

Jenny.—"But I have not got one, Sir."

Felix.—"Then a beefsteak."

Jenny.—"Indeed, I wish I could get one for you, Sir."