A severe blow upon the head, years previous, fractured the skull, a portion of which was crowded in upon the brain, the pressure causing temporary paralysis and idiocy, also loss of energy in the hypoglossal or lingual nerve. This piece of bone was removed, the brain relieved of the unnatural pressure, and the result was both wonderful and startling. Before the patient had fully recovered from the effects of the ether which had been administered to him, memory and speech both reasserted their functions by completing a sentence which had evidently been interrupted at the time of the accident which had deprived the boy of their use. “——tell my papa!” were the words which fell upon the ears of the startled surgeons, while the large blue eyes of their patient slowly unclosed and gazed up into the faces bending over him, the light of reason once more gleaming in their azure depths. “What will you tell papa?” asked Dr. Scherz, in a quiet tone, while the other surgeon drew quickly out of sight. “Jack struck Margery,” was the instant reply. “Who is your papa, my boy?” “Why, he’s papa; don’t you know?—my good papa,” was the response, while a puzzled look shot over the lad’s pale face. Dr. Scherz knew from his manner of speech that he must have been very young—not more than five years of age—at the time of his injury, and when that great darkness had so suddenly enveloped him. “Yes, your good papa,” said the doctor, soothingly. “Now go to sleep like a man.” “I’m Margery’s little man—where is Margery?” he questioned, drowsily, and closing his eyes, he was soon in a profound slumber. The two physicians watched him in silence for a few moments, then they looked up into each other’s face; eye held eye for an instant with an eloquent glance, the next their hands met in a prolonged and hearty clasp across their patient, for they knew that, if all went well, they had succeeded in an operation that would give them a famous reputation for all time. When the boy awoke again he called lustily for “Margery,” and a kind and motherly nurse was at once appointed to care for him. He seemed to know, however, that she was not “Margery,” although he appeared to take to her and was content to have her attend him. “Where’s Jack?” he asked of Dr. Scherz, who still remained with him, determined to watch him most carefully. “Jack who?” he asked. “Why, Margery’s Jack; but he isn’t good like Margery,” from which the physician inferred that “Jack” must have been Margery’s husband, and not an over kind one either. “Oh, Jack has gone away,” he answered, carelessly. “What is your name, my boy?” “I’m Geoffrey, sir.” “Geoffrey what?” “Why, Geoffrey Dale—don’t you know? I’m papa Dale’s own boy.” “Where is papa?” “Gone away off,” was the reply, accompanied by a grieved look, “and he won’t come again for ever so long.”