my eyes; yet such is the curious structure of the human senses, that what I heard seemed to be prior in time to what I saw. The peasant had almost overtaken his lamb: the lamb was on the point of escaping by a sudden leap; the peasant sprung upon him, and both were at the bottom of the precipice, and plunged in the basin, now swelled into a lake, with the rapidity of lightning. I flew to the group I have described: I laid hold of the old man at the moment of his purposed descent; I cried out, " Stay, poor man! what can you do?—I will save your son!" I knew a path more secure, yet scarcely more circuitous than that which the peasant had followed. I had the advantage over him, that I was not diverted from my course by any object whose deviation I pursued. For some time I went on safely: I saw the peasant rise to the surface of the water, and sink again; my impatience was too great to combine any longer with wariness; I lost my footing, and in an instant I also was in the lake.

My fall had been from a less terrible height than bis, and I recovered myself. I swam towards the place where he had last sunk; he rose-I caught hold of his clothes, and supported him. The difficulty however which remained appeared insuperable; the shores on almost every side were shelving, and impossible to be scaled with the peasant in my arms, who was in a state of insensibility. As I was endeavouring to find the means of escaping from this difficulty, I saw a boat advancing towards us; it was rowed by a young woman; it approached; she was William's mistress, and the owner of the lamb for which he had ventured his life. We got him into the boat; he was more stunned by the fall than injured by the water; he appeared to be gradually recovering; even the lamb was saved.

By the time we had reached the shore, the father and the two brothers were come round to our landingplace. All their attention was at first turned upon William; I was nothing to them. I retired to a little distance, and observed the group. The eldest boy supported William as he sat; the blooming maid rubbed

VOL. IV.

M

his temples; the father sat before him, and clasped his son's hands between his. It was an interesting spectacle; a painter might have sketched them as they sat. The eyes of the boy glistened with eagerness; the girl hung over her lover, while her colour alternately changed from its natural ruddiness to a languid paleness; the hairs of the old man were as white as snow. Presently William heaved a profound sigh-it was a welcome sound to the whole assembly. The youngest boy was at first wrapt in silent attention; but presently began to play with Molly, the pet lamb, that frisked about him. In a short time the old man exclaimed, "Where is our deliverer?" It was now my turn-I was at a short distance; they were all tumultuous in their expressions of gratitude. The peasant girl and myself supported William to his cottage; I offered my other arm to the father; the biggest boy led their favourite lamb by a string which hung from his neck; the youngest bore in triumph his father's stick, who, as he leaned on my arm, no longer needed its support.

Fleetwood.

INUNDATION OF THE RHINE.

DURING some part of my youth (says the narrator) my father resided at Mulheim, in Germany, a pretty little town, on the right bank of the Rhine, about three miles from Cologne, which is situated on the opposite side, higher up, and where the river makes an elbow. In 1783, or 1784 (I do not exactly recollect which year, but this is of no great importance), there happened to be an uncommonly severe winter; the Rhine had been what is called frozen up for nearly six weeks, during which time great roads are usually cut over the ice. Horses, carriages, and the heaviest laden waggons cross it without any danger, and markets are established on it.

It may not be irrelevant to notice, that this great bridge is not composed of one solid sheet, but of large

shoals of ice and hardened snow, which float down the stream, accumulate, and are heaped up upon each other until the passage is stopped by its own pressure. People are so accustomed to this, that no sooner does any part stand still, than they begin to traverse the bridge of ice, and set to work upon it, well knowing that nothing can prevent its consolidation for a time at least, or should it break. loose again, sufficient warning is given by the cracking of the ice, which produces a report like the discharge of cannon. The ice there may be from ten to twenty-five feet thick; but this, from the mode of its formation, must, of course, be very irregular. When, for the first time, I saw, many years afterwards, the large field of lava which you are obliged to cross with much difficulty, on the top of Mount Etna, before you come to the last steep ascent leading to the principal crater, the similarity of appearance between this and the vast fields of ice on the Rhine struck me very forcibly, with this difference, that the one is black, and the other white, and beautifully glittering when the sun shines. I have since seen the same comparison made by another writer, but do not recollect where. But to return: When the ice comes thus to a stand, the river, of course, still flows underneath. Now it happened, in the year I am writing of, that a sudden thaw came on in Switzerland, where the Rhine takes its rise, by which means immense floods of water came down, caused by the melting of the snow in the mountains, which alone would have done great damage; but, in addition to this, the frost continued on the lower parts of the river, and the crust of ice having continually gained strength and solidity during six weeks, it neither gave way, nor was there room for this immense volume of water to pass underneath. The consequence was, that, a little above Cologne, where the Rhine makes an elbow, a new arm of the river, composed equally of ice and water, broke out, and took its direction towards our unfortunate town. We had hardly any warning. The alarm was given in the night; and, before noon the next day, almost all the mischief was done, with such impetuosity did this

terrible flood come down. It would be difficult to describe the general terror which seized all the inhabitants. In a few hours, the water increased from twenty to thirty feet. House after house was swept away. People leaped from the first and second story windows (and this in the night) upon the moving ice, in hopes of saving their lives by being floated to dry land, or by scrambling, under imminent danger, from one shoal of ice to another, till they reached a place of safety. There was no other way of escaping; for, while families were endeavouring hastily (but in vain) to save at least part of their most precious valuables, the house was surrounded, and soon after disappeared. The use of boats was quite out of the question. In this manner a hundred and seventy and odd houses were swept away, large brick and stone buildings, among which was that of my father, and a large church which stood near it. The steeple of this church was the means of saving the lives of a number of people, who had climbed to the top of it; not that its own strength could have withstood the furious element, which nothing can resist, but providentially it happened so, that large masses of ice surrounded it in such a manner that the ice itself became its support, though it was afterwards obliged to be taken down, as it threatened to fall in from the injury it had received. Some of those who, in despair, attempted to make their escape from it perished, while others fortunately succeeded, but the greatest number, (sixty or seventy) who awaited their fate equally in despair, were saved two days afterwards, though nearly famished, among whom were two of my father's servants. The whole number of lives lost was comparatively small; think it was not eighty, but upwards of seventy.

When morning came the scene was truly awful and appalling. Nothing was to be seen but fields and mountains of ice, where the day before houses and gardens had stood. Wherever a stream of water and ice came against a building, there was a great crash, and it disappeared in an instant, like a card house. Nothing but the dust was seen rising from the spot. We saw a hen

house floating down on the ice entire, with the poultry in it, and a dog on the ice. Our terrors were not over; the greatest trial was yet to come.

The town was now completely encompassed with moving ice and water, which continued to rise. The whole population was collected nearly on one spot, in the higher part of the town, as it were on an island. The only thing that could save us was the breaking up of the main ice, but the crust which covered the main stream was still unmoved. It was calculated that if this state of things continued one hour longer, we must inevitably all be swallowed up. Judge then what our situation must have been. There we stood all like one family looking on the desolating scene, and awaiting our fate in silent terror or resignation, without the possibility of any help except from above. No! not quite silent, for there was perhaps not a lip that did not offer up a fervent prayer to the Almighty, and in mercy he did hear thein ! Loud reports were soon heard like the discharge of cannon (a sure sign to us), which were followed by shouts of joy in all our misery. So true is it, that we are never so wretched but we may be more so!

The great crust was now lifted up, and the water had vent. In a short time it fell, and this part of the danger ceased; but still our miseries were not yet over, for now we were threatened with another calamity— famine. The greatest part of the provisions was swept away; cattle, sheep, pigs, and all live stock, had perished. For the three succeeding weeks no conveyance could approach us, and only such people as ventured (and that, in the first instance, at the risk of their lives) to scramble over the ice on foot, who, of course, could not carry much. Public magazines were established, where all the provisions that remained, and the little that could be so brought to us, were thrown together into one general stock, and delivered out in daily rations, to rich and poor, in equal proportions, according to the numbers in a family. I well remember mounting guard at one of these magazines, being then a stout boy