I found our much loved boy-organist in a high fever. "He has been constantly raving all night," said his mother, in answer to my inquiries, "about what he has seen. There has been something preying on his mind lately," she continued. "He has been very sad and nervous, and I fear it has helped to make him ill." In a tone of command, which I find will often elicit a direct answer from patients whose minds are wandering, I said to him: "Ally, answer me directly, sir; what did you see?" With his eyes still staring at the ceiling he answered in a wondering manner, "God!" I was sorely perplexed what further question to ask, but, thinking to lead him on gradually to some more reasonable answer, as I thought, I asked, "Where?" "The kneeling people and the priest," he replied dreamily. "And Jesus said, Neither do I condemn thee." And here he burst into tears. Then the remembrance of the last Sunday morning came back to my mind, and I knew what had taken Ally across the fields, and what he had seen. He was so faint and weak, his pulse fluttered so unsteadily, that I feared the worst, and the anxious, searching look of the mother read my tell-tale countenance. She began to weep violently. "Mother!" cried Ally. "Yes, my child," she responded quickly, and bent over and kissed him. "Don't cry, mother. God will not let me die till I know what is true, first." "That is a strange remark," thought I, "for a boy like him to make. What can he mean?" "My darling Ally," said the widow, "you do know what is true. You always say what is true." "Why should they say it isn't true, then?" asked Ally. "What isn't true, my dear?" "God!" answered the boy, turning his eyes upward to the ceiling again, and looking, as it were, at some object miles away, "and the kneeling people, and the priest. It's true, and no lie. This is my body, this is my blood." And he joined his hot and feverish little hands together as if in prayer. "Don't trouble about this," said I to the weeping mother. "I know what it is. He has been down to Mike Maloney's, in the Brook woods, and seen the Catholic Mass. Don't refer to it again just now. I will give him some composing medicine. But I wish," I added, "that this had not happened. It only tends to weaken him." Presently I noticed him playing with his fingers on the coverlet as if he were playing the organ. I thought to take advantage of this, and said: "Ally, my boy, get well soon, now, and let us have a grand voluntary on the organ--one of your very best." "For God, for Mass, for the kneeling people and the priest," he murmured. "Oh! never mind the Mass," said I, "that's nothing to you." Turning his eyes suddenly upon? me, he cried: "O doctor! it seems everything to me. I never can forget it. How could anybody ever forget they had seen Mass. Could you?" "That I can't say, Ally," I replied; "for I never saw it." "Never saw it! Why, I've seen, it." "Often?" I asked.