instant afterward, just as we thought they were about to be driven into
the fatal breakers, they turned, to our inexpressible delight, as if
drawn by some invisible power (the rope the ferryman had attached to the
oar was, indeed, invisible to us,) and followed the boat.

The ferryman and his sister had yet to pull a fearful distance for the
time they had to do it in, to get out of that part of the current
leading to the breakers: and they accomplished it. The man had the bow
oar, and we could see the tough ash bend like a willow-wand as he
stretched out to keep the head of the boat partially up the stream. His
sister, too, "kept her own," and the little punt shot out rapidly into
the comparatively quiet stream, beyond the influence of the fearful
current, which was rapidly driving them upon the breakers. When this was
accomplished, our fears for the noble-hearted brother and sister were at
an end, and we took a long breath; it was, indeed, a relief to do so.
Still we continued to watch their further proceedings with the
deepest interest.

The moment they got into a less rapid current, which, they knew, led
into comparatively still water they ceased rowing, and allowed the punt
to float down with it. The young ferryman now drew up the sweep
alongside, and succeeded in getting the two unfortunate men into his
boat. While he was doing this, his sister went aft, and used her oar as
a rudder to steer the boat. At the foot of the current, which they soon
afterward reached, there was no further danger. But we watched them
still; and we saw them row ashore, on their own side of the river. One
of the poor fellows was so much exhausted, that the ferryman had to
carry him on his back to the nearest house, where he soon recovered.

Twelve months after this took place, I had the satisfaction of