moon's face obscuring its view of
things terrestrial. When it passed and that scene upon the river was
once more visible, only one figure remained still struggling bravely;
still clutching at the slippery, crackling ice; still fighting, not for
life alone, but for his soul's salvation. What thoughts must have passed
through his mind in those dreadful, despairing moments! Thoughts of sins
committed, of graces neglected; thoughts of all that might have been and
of all that was. Who can know of the sorrow and remorse that filled his
heart, of the wild cry for help and pardon that went up from the river
that night?

Meanwhile, the moon shone calmly, steadily, on the boy still fighting
for his life, on the mother praying at her chamber window, and on good
Father Xavier sleeping the sleep of the exhausted.

Somewhat later, but still before the dawn, he was summoned from that
sleep to answer a sick call from the hospital just across the river, to
which he was chaplain. Three young men coming home from the city shortly
after midnight had attempted to cross the frozen river, though warned of
the danger of doing so. The ice had broken through, two were drowned,
one saved, and the doctors thought he would live though unconscious at
present.

No, the names of the young men were not known as yet. The sisters at the
hospital sent for the priest because the boy brought there wore a
scapular and they knew he must be a Catholic. Aside from that nothing
was known about him.

Father Xavier's heart stood still. Something told him that his boy had
been one of those three. Two drowned, one saved! Which, oh, which was
the one saved?

The hospital reached, it was with rapidly beating heart he followed the
nurse through the ward and stood beside the bed at the farther end. The
night light burned low and the features of the boy upon the bed were
scarcely visible. Stooping low, a fervent "Thank God" broke from the
priest's lips as he recognized in the silent figure, the boy for whom
his heart had been yearning. His boy had been the one that was saved.
Yes, saved from death, saved from worse than death, saved to carry out
the resolutions he had made while struggling in the icy river that
Christmas morning.

NANCY'S TALE.

"Dear, dear! but God's ways are wonderful, there's no denyin' that. Many
a time we poor mortals think if we only had the handlin' of things, the
world would be a pleasanter place for some of us, but I reckon the