and peace, that the woodsman dropped upon
his knees and hid his face in the blankets. He did not say a word, but
leaving the boy passionately kissing his father, he ran to his own
cabin.

Seizing Mike by the shoulders, he shook him as if he intended to kill
him.

"Mike," said he, "by the great horned spoons, the little fellow has
fetched 'im! Git yer pa'tridge-broth and yer brandy quicker'n'
lightnin'. Don't talk to me no more 'bout yer priest; I've got a trick
worth two o' that."

Both men made haste back to Number Ten, where they found their patient
quite able to take the nourishment and stimulant they brought, but still
unable to speak. He soon sank into a refreshing slumber, and gave signs
of mending throughout the day. The men who had watched him with such
careful anxiety were full of hope, and gave vent to their lightened
spirits in the chaffing which, in their careless hours, had become
habitual with them. The boy and the dog rejoiced too in sympathy; and if
there had been ten days of storm and gloom, ended by a brilliant
outshining sun, the aspect of the camp could not have been more suddenly
or happily changed.

Two days and nights passed away, and then Mike declared that he must go
home. The patient had spoken, and knew where he was. He only remembered
the past as a dream. First, it was dark and long, and full of horror,
but at length all had become bright; and Jim was made supremely happy to
learn that he had had a vision of the glory toward which he had
pretended to conduct him. Of the fatherly breast he had slept upon, of
the golden streets through which he had walked, of the river of the
water of life, of the shining ones with whom he had strolled in
companionship, of the marvelous city which hath foundations, and the
ineffable beauty of its Maker and Builder, he could not speak in full,
until years had passed away; but out of this lovely dream he had emerged
into natural life.

"He's jest been down to the bottom, and started new." That was the sum
and substance of Jim's philosophy, and it would be hard for science to
supplant it.

"Well," said Jim to Mike, "ye've be'n a godsend. Ye've did more good in
a week nor ye'll do agin if ye live a thousand year. Ye've arned yer
hundred dollars, and ye haven't found no pauper, and ye can tell 'em so.
Paul Benedict ain't no pauper, an' he ain't no crazy man either."

"Be gorry ye're right!" said Mike, who was greatly relieved at finding
his report shaped