"No, it wouldn't grow," said the driver.

"Not only that," said Percy, "but we may have a natural and perfect
grain of corn and it can never be made to grow by any or all of the
knowledge and skill of men, if for a single instant the life
principle has left the kernel, which may easily result by changing
its temperature a few degrees above or below the usual range. The
spark of life returns to God who gave it, and man is as helpless to
restore it as when he first walked the earth.

"What miracle do you find hard to accept?" asked Percy.

"How could Jesus know that Lazarus had died when he was on the other
side of the mountain?"

"I don't know," Percy replied; "perhaps by some sort of wireless
message which his soul could receive. I don't know how, but it was
no greater miracle than it would have been then to have done what I
did last week."

The driver turned to look squarely at Percy as though in doubt of
his sanity, but a kindly smile reassured him.

"Our train coming into Cincinnati ran in two sections," Percy
continued, "and the section behind us was wrecked, three travellers
being killed and about fifteen others wounded. I was sure my mother
would hear of the wreck before I could reach her with a letter, and
so I talked with her from Cincinnati over the long distance 'phone,
with which we have always had connection since I first went away to
college. Yes, I talked with her, and, though separated by a distance