instant his father, still submerged, was drowning. At this moment
when the renewed probability of death brought no compensations of a
tender sentiment, it pleased the tide to whirl Judge Whaley's body
inwards, directly beneath the ice-field, and he being now insensible,
if alive at all, the negro clutched it effectually. In the awakened
pain and hope of that minute, Perry Whaley supported himself along the
piece of rail to the solid ice, and assisted to draw his father from
the water, and then swooned dead. They lay together, the unwelcome son
and the repelling father, under the universal pity of the great eye of
Heaven, on the natal day of Him who came into the world also
fatherless, but not disowned.

A neighboring farmer sent one of his boys to Chester for the doctor,
and by rubbing and restoratives, both the Judge and his son were
brought back to circulation and pulsation. Perry soon recovered, but
Judge Whaley was saved only with the greatest difficulty. It was
nightfall in the hospitable farm-house before he was able to see or
speak, and then, a little drunken with the spirits which had been
administered, he asked in a whisper:

"Who saved my life?"

"Who but your son Perry?" answered the cheerful Doctor Voss. "You were
both wrapped together for a long while in the bottom of the cove!"

"My son!" exclaimed Judge Whaley, scarcely understanding the reply.
"Who is my son?"

"Here, father! We are both alive. Thank God!"