Three quarters of a mile—the neighbors afterward estimated—did that noble boy carry his precious burden, nerved to strange strength by the love that was in his heart, and the consciousness that life or death hung on the issue. But the hands about his neck relaxed their hold, and his own step faltered; so, coming to a lonely oak, he leaned his charge against it, and covering him up carefully with the over-garment, bidding him not to be afraid, fled for help. As soon as possible, he returned with a wagon, accompanied by its owner and a neighbor. By the side of the tree they found him, covered with a fleecy robe, sitting there still and silent, a faint trembling of the pulse was all that told that life was not extinct. What had been his thoughts there alone amid the wild storm; what the tenacity with which his young heart clung to life,—the yearnings for father, mother, little brothers; what the agonized soul-cries that ascended above the voices of the tempest, piercing heaven, or what visions of angel ministrants strengthening him in the last conscious struggle, there was none to tell. He was speechless. Laying him gently in the vehicle, they drove for his home. Bursting open the door, they bore the child in,—rash, kind men! "Judson was dead!" Not an intimation had the parents received that evil had befallen their son, since a few short hours before he had gone forth in his young joy. The blow fell with stunning force, it was so sudden, so unexpected; and while the father was sorely stricken, the mother mourned in an agony that "refused to be comforted." "Oh, that he had been taken away from before our eyes by disease, then we might have been prepared for it!" she exclaimed. "But to have him perish all alone, with no one near to speak to, no one by to soothe his last moments! Left, too, so brutally by neighbors who, if they had been at all humane, might have saved him from such a fate. And to bury him without a minister of the gospel to speak to us from God's word, and offer prayer, it was so revolting, so dreadful!" "Did you have no funeral service?" I asked. "Yes; but it was so different from what we needed, and from what we had been accustomed to. We were told that a settler, three miles from here, a smart capable man, was a preacher. And, although he was a Universalist, rather than have none of the offices appropriate to such an event, my husband invited him to officiate. He made some remarks, but did not pray, saying he was not used to praying. And so my boy was buried! We have never felt right about that funeral, and when I heard of you, I felt 'so' glad! I have not heard a sermon for more than two years, yet I prize such privileges."