urn
to the lowlands, to go from there to the Flume House, visit 'the Pool,'
and then down to the pretty village of Plymouth, in New-Hampshire.

Mary and her sister rose early, and having a spare half-hour before
breakfast, went down to take a last look of Prospero and his 'Bowl.'
There they found a crazy, old, leaky boat, with a broken oar, and Mary,
spying some dry bits of board on the shore, deftly threw them in and
arranged them so that she and her sister could get in dry-shod. Alice
looked doubtfully at the crazy little craft and hung back--the thought
of husband and children at home is always a sedative--but her eager
sister overcame her scruples, and they were soon fairly out from shore
in deep water. They went on, half-floating, half-rowing, unconscious of
the flying minutes. Not so their father, who after waiting breakfast 'an
eternity,' (as he said, possibly some five minutes,) came to the lake to
recall them. Just as he came within fair sight of them--for they were
not two hundred yards from him--the boat suddenly began whirling round.
An eddying wind had sprung from the mountain upon them. The poor father
saw their dilemma, and could not help them. He could not swim. He
screamed for help, but what likelihood that any one should hear or could
aid him?

Alice prudently sat perfectly still. The oar was in Mary's hand. She
involuntarily sprung to her feet; her head became giddy; not so much,
she afterward averred, with the whirling of the boat as with the sight
of her poor old father, and the sense that she had involved Alice in
this peril. She plunged the oar into the water in the vain hope, by
firmly holding it, of steadying the boat; but she dropped it from her
trembling hand, and in reaching after it, she too dropped over into the
water, and in her struggle she pushed the boat from her, and thus became
herself beyond the possibility of her sister's reach. Her danger was
imminent; she was sinking. Her father and sister shrieked to Him--who
they believed heard them and sent his Messenger; for a plash in the
water, a strong man with wonderful--it seemed superhuman--strength and
speed, was making his way toward Mary. In one moment more he had grasped
her with one hand. She had still enough presence of mind not to
embarrass him by any struggles, and shouting a word of comfort to Alice,
he swam to the shore and laid Mary in her father's arms. He then
returned to the boat, and soon brought it to shore.

There are