80 J. COLE.

“A few drops of brandy, to moisten the
lips, first of all,” said the good doctor, “then
the bath and gentle friction; there is certainly
life in him.”

Now my good sister's clever nursing
proved invaluable. All that night we fought
every inch of ground, as it were, with our
grim enemy; the dear, good doctor never
relaxed in his efforts to bring back life to
the cramped limbs. The burglars had un-
knowingly helped to keep alight Joe’s feeble
spark of life by wrapping the blankets round
him; they had meant, no doubt, to stifle any
sound he might make; but by keeping him
from actual contact with the stone floor, and
protecting him from the cold, they had given
him his little chance of life.

Oh, how I blessed that kind thought of
Dr. Loring’s to bring me a barrel of apples!
Had there been no occasion to open the cel-
lar-door, Joe would have died before another
morning had dawned, died! ‘starved! What
a horrible death! And to know that within
a few steps were food, warmth, and kind
hearts — hearts even then saddened by his