or, The Silver Skates 153

rapidly. Chill vapors filled the air. Our little hero began to
tremble with cold and dread. He shouted loudly ; he screamed,
‘Come here, come here!’ but no one came. The cold grew
more intense. A numbness, commencing in the tired little
finger, crept over his hand and arm; and soon his whole
body was filled with pain. He shouted again, ‘ Will no one
come? Mother, mother!’ Alas! his mother, good, practi-
cal soul, had already locked the doors, and had fully resolved
to scold him on the morrow for spending the night with blind
Jansen without her permission. He tried to whistle. Per-
haps some straggling boy might heed the signal; but his
teeth chattered so, it was impossible. Then he called on
God for help; and the answer came through a holy resolution,
— ‘I will stay here till morning.’ ”

[“* Now, Jenny Dobbs,” said the teacher. Jenny’s
eyes were glistening; but she took a long breath, and
commenced. ]

“The midnight moon looked down upon that small solitary
form, sitting upon a stone, half-way up the dike. His head was
bent, but he was not asleep; for, every now and then, one
restless hand rubbed feebly the outstretched arm that seemed
fastened to the dike; and often the pale, tearful face turned
quickly at some real or fancied sound.

‘“¢ How can we know the sufferings of that long and fearful
watch ? — what falterings of purpose, what childish terrors,
came over the boy as he thought of the warm little bed at
home, of his parents, his brothers and sisters, then looked into
the cold, dreary night! If he drew away that tiny finger, the
angry waters, grown angrier still, would rush forth, and never
stop until they had swept over the town. No: he would hold
it there till daylight — if he lived. He was not very sure of