who was her mother, sat on the opposite side; an old woman--a widow--
wrapped in a black shawl. The husband of the young woman was in the
gallery overhead.

Service was over, and we had wended our way back to the parsonage,
followed by several Indians, men and women with their babes, who had
come to shake hands or to ask for "muskeke" (medicine). All at once we
heard a shout from the garden, and a girl came rushing up, crying:
"Quick! help! there are people drowning." We all ran off with great
haste to the shore, the Indian women wailing in their own peculiar way,
some burying their heads in their shawls and sobbing with grief. Quite
a little fleet of boats and canoes were already off to the rescue; six
or seven in all. We could not at first make out where was the scene of
the disaster, but soon it became only too apparent. There, far out in
the very centre of the broad river, being carried away by the current,
were four or five specks, the heads of people struggling to save
themselves. The boats were still a long distance from them, and
breathlessly we watched as they made their way onward. Two, three of
the specks had disappeared; only two were now visible. "How many were
in the boat?" was anxiously asked. "Oh, there must have been eight or
nine;" and only two now above water. It was sickening to think of. The
wailing cries of the women on the shore increased each moment, and
great was the suspense as the foremost boat drew with all speed towards
the poor drowning creatures. I waited to see the two who were afloat
pulled into the boats, and then hurried up to the house to see if all
needful preparations had been made. Mrs. Chance had got everything
ready; a good bright fire, blankets, and brandy. When I went back to
the shore, the poor half-drowned creatures had just landed. Shaking and
shivering they were lifted out of the boat and supported up to the
house. Four had been saved: two men--and two women. One was still