LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1809, 8 December 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SHOOTING THE RAPIDS, [From “Cassell’s Magazine.’’] {Concluded.) The sudden gleam in Montague’s dark eye, and the glow on his handsome features, suffioiently betrayed the wild thought suggested to him by the honest German’s last words. The significant glance exchanged between him and Burdett showed that the same idea was in the minds of both, though the latter accompanied his look with a warning gesture, reminding the reckless Viscount of the effect which the words that were just about to break from his lips would have upon the two ladies. But when they had retired, Montague could contain himself no longer. * Glorious idea ! We'll do it—eh, S-d ?’ *Doit ? I should think we would ! After the “ Gueule’d’Enfer ” Bapids in Canada, this thing’ll bo a joke. Never seen it yet, and never shall, eh? We’ll give Mr Johann another story to tell to-morrow, one that’ll last longer than any of his present stock.’ Our two heroes were not the men to loiter over any enterprise, however desperate, upon which they had once resolved, and they lost not a moment in setting out in quest of a boat. But to find one was no easy matter Some were unseaworthy ; others failed to please the critical eye of Sedley Burdett, who, with all his recklessness, knew better than to leave any chance nnoared for in a match where life itself was the stake. More than one conscientious native, on learning the nature of the proposed expedition, flatly refused to have anything to do with it, nor was it till late in the afternoon that they at length met with a less scrupulous individual, who, on receiving the full value of his boat in advance, and a handsome gratuity for the use of her, consented to let the “English madmen” have their way. He agreed to leave the boat in readiness at a convenient spot, and then took his leave. It was considerably past eleven o’clock that night, and Burdett, unmindful of the tough work that awaited him next morning, was preparing for bed, when Montague (who slept in the next room) burst in, with a flush of unusual excitement in his face, ‘ Sed, old fellow, we must alter cur time of starting Those meddlesome asses, the local authorities, are going to put a spoke in our wheel.’ *Do you mean that they’ll try to step us?’ asked Burdett, with the naturalamazement of an Englishman at any one presuming to oppose his will, ‘ I do, indeed! That prating fool of a boatman (see if I don’t punch his head when it’s all over) must have let the cat out of the bag, for as I came through the ball just now I heard the landlady say to her husband .- ‘Ought we to let them go? It’s really no better than suicide!’ and the old sinner answered, with a chuckle: ‘Be easy, my Gretchen—when these young distracted ones get to their boat they will find it in charge of certain Gerichte-Diener (policemen), who are less foolish than they, and no harm will be done. ’ ‘ Just like their confounded cheek !’ cried Burdett. * What shall we do, then ?’ ‘Do ? Why, set the alarm deck two hours earlier (I am safe to hear it where I am), and start at four instead of six ; and we’ll just meet the minions of the law on our way back to breakfast, and a jolly sell it’ll be for them, My word, every mortal thing seems to have conspired against this venture of ours ; bot I’ll go through with it, no matter who stands in the way.’ For a moment a thrill of superstitious awe shot through the heart of fredley Burdett. Could it be that these countless hindrances were really a lost barrier vainly opposing the final impulse which was hurrying them both to destruction ? The unnatural excitement of his comrade’s manner, the feverish lustre of hia eye, the t eated flush in his usually pale face, were all terribly suggestive of ore goaded to his doom by some irresistible frenzy—flashing upon Burdett’s mind with ghastly vividness, the sudden memory of a hng forgotten painting of the young German knight lured to his death in the hungry waters of the Rhine by the siren song of the Lorelei. He opened his lips to propose the abandonment of the whole project, but the fear of ridicule (that fear which has destroyed many a gallant man) withered the wholesome impnse, and the favorable moment went by for ever.

Morning at last—a bright, breezy, glorious summer morning, over which all things in earth and heaven seemed to rejoice. The blue skies, the waving woods, the green sunny slope, the broad bright stream of the great river itself, all seemed to smile a welcome to the eyes that might soon be closed for ever. Even the two English athletes, absorbed as they were in their perilous enterprise, felt the influence of the hour, and muttered with involuntary udmira'.i m :

‘ What a royal day !’ One vigorous stroke sent the light boat far out into the swift, dark current, down which it shot like an arrow from a bow. Rocks, trees, and houses seemed racing past on either side. No need to strain at the oars now —all that could be done with them was to keep the boat’s bow perfectly straight, so as to offer as little space as possible to the rush of a current which seemed well able to carry away an entire city. Suddenly there came a d'zzy plunge—a shock that t' row both men from their places —and then all around was one boiling whirl of foam, and the boat was flung to and fro, and dashed np and down, amid an uproar that seemed to rend the very sky. For one feverish moment life at d death seemed to hang by a hair ; and then the two daring men found themselves floating in on the little line of calm water that separated the lirst fall from the worst peril of the second. ‘ Hurrah! ’ shouted Montague, gleefully, 1 who says it can’t be done now ? Keep her head straight, Sed, my boy, and we’ll come out all right yet.’ The triumphant cheer was answered by a cry of dismay from the shore, and the two oarsmen, looking up, beheld Marion Wcutworth rushing distractedly towards the edge of the high bank that overhung the se ond fall, followed ly Montogue's I'nglish servant At the sound of his betrothed’s voice, Montague turned his face toward her and waved his hand cheerily ; and seldom has any painter conceived such a pioture as the one at that moment branded forever on the memory of those who saw it. The stern black rooks on either hand, docked with living grornby the shrubs that clung to their craggy sides ; the vast hill of leaping foam, half way down which the frail boat hovered like a leaf; the rainbow arch that spanned the black howling gulf beneath ; the glory of the aonrise stea'ing softly into the ure,

peaceful sky, In strange contrast with the rook-rendn g uproar below; the stalwart figures of the two gallant lads straining every nerve to achieve their perilous task ; the handsome, reckless face of the ' last of the Montagues,’ with a gay smile on its short curved lip, and an ominous glitter in its large dark eyes. ‘ Good morning my pot 1 ’ cried he gaily ; 'you are just in time for tha end of the play.’

These were the last words that Viscount Montague ever spoke. The momentary negligence had allowed the boat’s head to deviate slightly from the direct Hue, and in an instant the whirl of the current throw ita exposed side full against the tremendoua rush of the cataract. One frantic straggle to regain the lost ground, and then boat and men vanished forever into tha mists of the roaring abyss below. • From that fatal hour, life was over for tha ‘ Flower of Kent.’ All tbit remain dof the once bright and beautiful girl was & pale, silent joylo's phs.n"om—a h -iy, as it were, without a soul. Neither the tender care of her heart-broken mother, nor the skill of the nyst accomplished physicians, enr even the sight of her dead lover's rumed home (the burning of which, on the vt ry day of its master’s death, fulfilled, by a sheer coincidence, the dismal prediction), a ailed ought to break that dtaily lethargy which she endured for the b ief remainder if her life, checkered only by the spasms of convulsive agony invariably product J by the one sound which her ear still had power to recognise—the sound of rushing waters.