hen he
had recruited his strength a little, he began his story; saying that
the day before he had left his monastery, which was a good way off
beyond the lake, intending to visit the bishop at his palace, and
report to him the distress which these almost supernatural floods had
caused the monks and their poor tenantry. After going round a long
way, to avoid these floods, he had been obliged toward evening to
cross an arm of the overflowing lake, with the help of two honest
sailors. "But," added he, "no sooner had our little vessel touched the
waves, than we were wrapped in the tremendous storm, which is still
raging over our heads now. It looked as if the waters had only awaited
our coming to give a loose to their fury. The oars were soon dashed
from the seamen's hands, and we saw their broken fragments carried
further and further from us by the waves. We floated on the wave tops,
helpless, driven by the furious tempest toward your shores, which we
saw in the distance whenever the clouds parted for a moment. The boat
was tossed about still more wildly and giddily: and whether it upset,
or I fell out, I cannot tell. I floated on, till a wave landed me at
the foot of a tree, in this your island."

"Ay, island indeed!" said the Fisherman. "It was a promontory but a
short time ago. But, since the stream and our lake are gone raving mad
together, everything about us is new and strange."

The Priest continued: "As I crept along the water-side in the dark,
with a wild uproar around me, something caught my eye, and presently I
descried a beaten pathway, which was soon lost in the shades; I spied
the light in your cottage, and ventured to come hither; and I cannot
sufficiently thank my heavenly Father, who has not only delivered me
from the waters, but guided me to such kind souls. I feel this
blessing the more, as it is very likely I may never see any faces but
yours again."--"How so?" asked the fisherman. "Can you guess how long
this fury of the elements may last?" replied the Priest. "And I am an
old man. My stream of life may perhaps lose itself in the earth,
before these floods subside. And besides, it may be the foaming waters
will divide you from the forest more and more, till you are unable to
get across in your fishing boat; and the people of the mainland, full
of their own concerns, would quite forget you in your retreat."

Shuddering, and crossing herself, the Fisherman's wife exclaimed, "God
forbid!" But the old m