When my husband came home, he went directly to the crib, and found him in a gentle perspiration, but still with a feverish pulse. I told him I had bathed his feet in warm water, which he approved, but thought it best to give the powder. When I retired he appeared no worse, and feeling more easy about him, I soon fell asleep. I was awakened by a loud, shrill noise from the crib, such as I had never before heard. With one bound I was at his side, screaming "Frank, Oh, _Frank_! what can that noise be?" Alas, no Frank answered! He had been called away. Whether I had forgotten it or never knew it until that moment I cannot tell. But another sound came, more horrible than the first. I ran to Ann's room and told her to ring for Cæsar and Phebe. Then I flew back to my boy, my darling boy. He seemed to be suffocated. I caught him in my arms, and tossed him to catch his breath. Oh! how frightened he looked. Soon Ann and all came rushing into the room. "Oh, Cæsar!" I cried, "where is your master?" Without another word he went in search of him. Ann ran for mother and sister, while Phebe hurried to the kitchen, and brought some olive oil which she succeeded in pouring down his throat. "Don't be scare missus, it's de croup. Mass'r Frank cures heaps o' chilen sick wid it. Ole Phebe knows God not send for dis chile yet." I wrung my hands. Before Cæsar could have had time to harness I began to expect him back. Mother soon came in and took my boy from me, telling me to dress. I forgot that I had only thrown on a wrapper. Mother was so calm I began to hope it was not so bad as I feared. She had already sent Phebe for hot water; telling Emily to go to the medicine chest, and procure a bottle of antimonial wine. This she gave at once, and with his little feet and limbs in very warm water, while he was wrapped in blankets, he appeared better. But he looked at me with such an imploring expression as he said "mamma," that the tone stirred the deepest fountains of my heart. "Oh, my darling!" I cried, "mamma would help you if she could!" Oh, how the little breast heaved; and he grew worse again,--every minute he grew worse. Mother said not a word, but kept administering to him. "Where can Cæsar be?" she said at length, and I knew from her looks she feared the worst. Then I heard a horse come dashing up to the door, and Frank almost flew into the room. "Thank God!" was all that mother could say. The poor father knelt before his boy. His mother told him in a word what she had done. Oh! the look of indescribable agony that passed over his face as he found he was _too_ late! _Our boy was dying!_