move
about, the cruel wind would find its way into every cranny of their
tattered dress. They were all huddled up, and still; with eyes
intent on the embryo sailor. At last, one little man, envious of the
reputation that his playfellow was acquiring by his daring, called
out:

"I'll set thee a craddy, Tom! Thou dar'n't go over yon black line in
the water, out into the real river."

Of course the challenge was not to be refused, and Tom paddled away
towards the dark line, beyond which the river swept with smooth,
steady current. Ruth (a child in years herself) stood at the top of
the declivity watching the adventurer, but as unconscious of any
danger as the group of children below. At their playfellow's success,
they broke through the calm gravity of observation into boisterous
marks of applause, clapping their hands, and stamping their impatient
little feet, and shouting, "Well done, Tom; thou hast done it
rarely!"

Tom stood in childish dignity for a moment, facing his admirers;
then, in an instant, his washing-tub boat was whirled round, and he
lost his balance, and fell out; and both he and his boat were carried
away slowly, but surely, by the strong full river which eternally
moved onwards to the sea.

The children shrieked aloud with terror; and Ruth flew down to the
little bay, and far into its shallow waters, before she felt how
useless such an action was, and that the sensible plan would have
been to seek for efficient help. Hardly had this thought struck her,
when, louder and sharper than the sullen roar of the stream that was
ceaselessly and unrelentingly flowing on, came the splash of a horse
galloping through the water in which she was standing. Past her like
lightning--down in the stream, swimming along with the current--a
stooping rider--an outstretched, grasping arm--a little life
redeemed, and a child saved to those who loved it! Ruth stood dizzy
and sick with emotion while all this took place; and when the rider
turned his swimming horse, and slowly breasted up the river to the
landing-place, she recognised him as the Mr Bellingham of the night
before. He carried the unconscious child across his horse; the body
hung in so lifeless a manner that Ruth believed it was dead, and her
eyes were suddenly blinded with tears. She waded back to the beach,
to the point towards which Mr Bellingham was directing his horse.

"Is he dead?" asked she, stretching out her arms to receive the
little fellow; for s