LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 277, 1 May 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

DRIFTING AWAY. (From All the Year Round.) ' Got your sailing orders, mister, have you ? Well, it never hurts a young chap to see something of the world, I guess, and cut his eye-teeth. All the same we'll miss you a bit, Master Cyril, for we had all got to look upon you as one of the family ;' said a gruff tut kindly voice, that had retained its salt water smack, after a quarterof a century passed right out of sight of that sea on which its owner had spent his best years. ' Yes, Dixon,' I replied. ' I must go tomorrow, or, at the latest, the day after, to catch the packet for Europe, and bid farewell, for some years, to all old friends and home associations. I shall often think, when abroad, of my pleasant visit to Wisconsin, and how you and honest Nick, yonder, taught me to handle oar and paddle, rifle and fish-spear, to back a mustange and to manage a canoe, and many another accomplishment of prairie life, strange to a citybred stripling like myself.' ' A right smart learner we had in you, sir, I will say that; though Ben Dixon never was much given to palaver, but I was proud of my pupil, and so was Nick, here, for that matter;' growled out the old man-of-war's-man, while his less talkative Indian comrade, who sat smoking in a corner of the hut, picturesquely draped in his scarlet blanket, took the pipe from his lips to utter a guttural ejaculation of assent. Both of these men were in the employment of a maternal relative of mine, long resident at St. Anthony, on the upper waters of the Mississippi. I, myself, Cyril Harding by name, was then a lad of seventeen, and was about, at my father's desire, to start for Europe, where it was intended that I should remain long enough to perfect myself in foreign languages, as well as to acquire a thorough insight into the business methods cf the mercantile house in which I was to be placed. My father, a widower, and a New York merchant, much absorbed in his affairs, had consented to my accepting the invitation to pay a long visit to my Western cousin, Mr Lowe, the rather that it was believed that my health would beiefit by the pure air and hardy out-door habits of the Prairie State, and I had passed many happy months at St. Anthony.. And now, strong, active, and sunburned, I was suddenly called on to leave my holiday life of exercise and sport, and commence ' my noviciate at the desk. A vacancy had been found for me in a great Bordeaux house of business, and I was to sail at once. In spite of the natural love for change and the inquisitive eagerness to see the world, which a very young man almost always feels, it was with regret that I made up my mind to part from the kind relatives whose hospitality I had long enjoyed, and they, also, were sorry that my sojourn beneath their roof should come to a close. Mr and Mrs Lowe were, both of them, of genial and generous dispositions, and the affection which I had learned to entertain for them was reciprocal. Little Frank, with whom I was an especial favorite, cried piteously at the news of my impending departure, and, indeed, there was only one member of the family who expressed no grief at the {prospect of losing sight of the New York cousin, so long domiciled among them. This was Lily Lowe, the only daughter, a singularly pretty and graceful child, over whose golden head some eleven summers had passed. Lily, instead of seeking my society, had always seemed to shun it, much to my annoyance, for I was partial to children, and generally popular among them. She was, however, excessively fond oE her younger brother, and since Frank was a "pet and playmate of mine, I. frequently took out both the children on some boating excursion on the river or the neighbouring creeks. For aquatic amusements,

in fact, there were great facilities, since Mr I Lowe was the owner of a miniature flotilla of sloops, broadhorns, boats, and canoes, in which, at the proper seasons, the agricultural produce of the fertile prairie farms was transported southwards. It was the eve of my departure, and had J been able to consult my own wishes I should have spent the whole day with my relatives. I had, however, engaged myself to dine with a neighbour, one Colonel Baker, who had shown me much attention since I had stayed in Wisconsin, and I could not, without offence to the kind old man, refuse to partake of his hospitality. It was bright moonlight when I started, on horseback, to return to Lowe's Flat, as my kinsman's residence was called. It was a long ride homewards, across the springy turf of the prairie; but my wiry little steed went fast and well, and the gallop was a pleasant one, and quickly performed. Presently I could see the Mississippi shining like a silver ribbon in the moonbeams, and the house, with its garden, its orchard, shade-trees, and outbuildings, the huts of the labourers, the woodpile, and the boats moored to the river-bank. I was to start on the morrow, and it was for the last time for some years to come perhaps for ever! that I should look upon that peaceful scene. Half mechanically, I drew my rein, and checking my horse, gazed musingly on the calm prospect before me. As I did so, I was surprised to see a white figure glide from amidst the blossomed shrubs of the well-tended garden, pass through the wicket gate, and move onwards in the direction of the river. Half doubtful I was whether I might not be the dupe of someopticalillusion, or of myownfancy. Yes, there was the white figure sure enough, gliding on slowly towards the river. It was no dream—no hallucination—yet what could its presence at this untimeous hour portend ? At this instant my horse, impatient at beinj> thus kept from the stable and the corn bin, neighed aloud and shrilly, but the sound did not reach the ears of the person on whom I was gazing, for there was no start and no pause, but always and ever the same gliding motion, riverwards. Who would be likely to be abroad at such an hour. Then, too, the low stature forbade the notion that the ghostly looking form before me could be that of one of the negroes or white field hands employed about there, in common sense it should be a child. And then there rose up in my mind a vague suspicion that some one might have planned a trick, a mock apparition to test my courage or credulity, and that it behoved me to unmask the deception. I dismounted, and fastening my horse's bridle to the nearest snake-fence, I- made my way on foot, swiftly, but cautiously, towards the place where I had last seen the white figure. It had disappeared, but on emerging from amidst the trees I beheld a sight which froze my blood with speechless horror. The child, Lily—my beautiful little cousin Lily Lowe I knew her, now, with the lustre of the moonbeams full upon her golden locks that hung down upon her shoulders, and half concealed her face. She wore a white wrapper, but I noticed with a thrill of surprise that her small feet were quite bare, • and that there was something spectral in the noiseless tread with which she advanced. She was close, now, to the place where, at a sort of wharf, rudely constructed of unbarked logs, the boats were moored. What, in Heaven's name, was she doing? Surely, surely, she could not intend to cast off the lashings by which yonder light canoe is attached to the bank ! Yes,, such is indeed the case, and now—' Oh, stop, cousin—Lily, stop ?' I shouted these words aloud, and darted forward as I did so, for to my amazement the young girl had actually stepped into the canoe, grasped the paddle, and was apparently pushing off the frail craft from the bank into the stream. To my horror, loudly as I had uplifted my voice, she to whom it was addressed did not hear or heed. And then there rushed upon me, with overpowering force, the consciousness of the true horror of the situation. There was no mistaking that strange glassy look, that dreamy carriage of the head, the half-helpless action of the hands that held the paddle. It was evident that Lily had been walking in her sleep, that she was, for the time, but dimly alive to the existence of surrounding objects, deaf to the outcry of my warning voice, the mere passive slave of her own unhealthy fancy. I had scanty time for doubt or for deliberation, for already the canoe was speeding past, impelled bp the quick rush of the current. What was to be done ? The stream of the Mississippi, swollen by the rains which bad fallen heavily in those more northerly regions where its feeders have their rise, was by far too strong to be coped with by the feeble arm of a girl of Lilly's years, even had she been much more competent to wield the paddle than was the case. And the wed,ic strokes which she gave as she slowly balanced the polished piece of tough birchwood were actually calculated to assist, not to stem, the force of the furious river, river. Even now, I could hear the low menacing roar of the Falls below—the Falls of St Anthony—which were but a short distance; while my blood ran cold at the thought that if she once drifted thus far, human help could not avail to preserve Lilly's young life from inevitable destruction. Hesitation at such a crisis would be fatal. There were the large sailing boats technically known as broad-horns, but at least two men are required to manage these clumsy craft, while the only light skiff had sustained some injury the week before, in striking on a submerged tree above the rapids, and was now under repair. Yet the only hope of saving Lily, who was fast receding from my sight, was to overtake her before her fragile bark should be caught in the arrow-swift current that narrows near the Falls. In the hurry and excitement of the moment I sprang into the nearest and smallest of the broadhorns, cast off the mooring rope, spread the sad, thrust off the large boat from the shore, and then started in pursuit. Well I knew that the venture was a d€sperate one, as, the sheet firmly grasped in one hand, while the other held the tiller, I went quickly down the river before the brisk breeze. At any instant a squall of wind, such as is not unfrequent in that latitude, might either capsize the broadhorn, or cause her to groimd upon a shoal, since my single strength was insufficient for the proper handling of such a' craft. Then, too, should I become involved in the rapids; nothing, clearly, could prevent the boat from going stem on over the Falls. There was but one chance to come up with the canoe before safety became impossible. To be continued,