position. Her articulation was very difficult, and her countenance
presented a ghastly appearance, for one half of her appeared to be
completely paralyzed.

It was the work of a few moments to alarm the house and despatch a
messenger for the doctor. But what could a physician avail when nature
refused longer to perform her office? The doctor could investigate, and
the result of his examination was most alarming. Voluntary action over
one half the frame quite suspended; what was worse, there was little or
no sensation. The poor woman essayed to speak from time to time, but
with repulsive contortions, so that her words sounded like idiotic
babble. As her husband bent over her, she seized his arm with the hand
still _live_, and with distinctness said:

'_Send for Hiram._'

This was in time for the mail which closed in twenty minutes.

* * * * *

Hiram rose the morning after the long session at Mr. Tenant's house,
cool and refreshed by his undisturbed slumber. Arriving at his counting
room, he received, among his other correspondence, a letter, which read
as follows:

MY DEAR SON: Your mother has been taken alarmingly ill. Come home
at once. Your affectionate father,

F. MEEKER.

What a load off Hiram's mind by the receipt of this brief note! The idea
of a fond, devoted mother, struck down by a possibly fatal illness, did
not present itself for an instant, or if it did, it was without effect
on him.

He breathed a deep _relieved_ respiration, while he articulated, just
above a whisper, '_How very Providential!_'

The New Haven boat left at one o'clock. Hiram spent a most active
morning. Hill was summoned, and kept on the run all the time. No
explanations, though, except "a sudden call out of town." Arrangements
were made which looked to an absence prolonged into weeks. The bank was
visited with reference to what might be required, and the news of his
mother's dangerous illness turned to advantage in the most effective
way.

All was ready.

It was just half past twelve o'clock. Hiram sat down, and taking up a
torn piece of paper, scratched off a blurred and nearly unintelligible
scrawl as follows:

12-1/2 P.M.

DEAR EMMA: I have this moment received the enclosed. I leave in
fifteen minutes. Barely time to send this.