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they were within the power of the dreaded rapids. In vain, seizing their oars, they tugged and tugged to gain the shore-they shrieked in their despairing efforts-the waters seemed to answer mockingly. An oar broke, leaving them more helpless still. The boat striking a rock was dashed to pieces, and the next instant the waters closed over the heads of two of the crew. One, young Ebert, yet floated-hurried rapidly along towards the falls, down which he well knew that no man had ever gone and lived. A few yards more only remained to be traversed before he must take that fearful plunge, and be no more seen; when before him appeared a log of timber firmly jammed between the rocks in the stream. By a desperate effort he grasped it, and drew himself out of the water. Night had come on; no one was likely to pass; his voice could not be heard amid the roar of the cataract. There he was discovered, still clinging, when morning dawned-about half way between the bridge leading to Goat Island and the American fall. The bridge and the neighbouring shores were soon crowded with anxious spectators. A fellow creature rejoicing in youth and strength was placed in a position of the most fearful peril. How can he be rescued? was the question.
He was so near, that it seemed almost as if a hand stretched out would save him. But the fierce rapids rushed between him and the shore, where alone safety could be found. Every one was eager to offer assistance; but among all that crowd there was no one with the practical knowledge which enabled him to render effectual aid in the emergency. Sometimes Ebert might be seen walking about on the rocks surrounding the log, as if contemplating the possibility of wading, or swimming on shore; but he was beckoned back by the spectators. A small strong raft was at length formed, and, by means of ropes, allowed to float down towards him. All anxiously watched its progress. It floated buoyantly-it was almost within his reach-in another minute he might be saved-when the rope became jammed in the rocks. A cry of regret escaped the crowd. Ebert, after contemplating the raft for some time, slid down into the water, waded out till he could reach the rope, and after great labour succeeded in freeing it from the rocks. The spectators shouted with satisfaction; and still more so, when they saw him manfully towing the raft out of the strength of
the current towards his place of refuge. Having secured himself to the raft, by means of lashings fastened to it for the purpose, he made the signal that he was ready to commence his fearful voyage. Those who had charge of it hauled away, till, within a short distance of some small islands connected with Goat Island, the rope catching, the raft lay motionless in the fiercest part of the rapids. Now more than a cry—a long, loud groan of commiseration and despair escaped from the spectators. In vain they hauled on the rope, fearful, too, lest it should be cut by the rocks-neither dared Ebert move, dreading to be washed off the raft. But there were many brave hearts anxious to save him, though no one could devise the
A boat now brought overland was launched, with a strong hawser secured to her, and a volunteer bravely shoved off from the island as far as he could venture to
wards the young man. "Courage, Ebert! courage, my lad!" he sang out; "we'll heave you a rope, and if you'll make yourself fast to it we'll haul you on shore." But Ebert shook his head, for he dreaded lest while securing the rope he might be washed off the raft. Various devices were suggested, but abandoned as impracticable.
At length it became known, that a life-boat had been sent for from Buffalo; and it was perceived that, had Ebert remained on his first resting-place, he might have avoided the great danger in which he was now placed. How frequently do the injudicious, though well-meant endeavours defeat their purpose!
The life-boat appeared; it was launched amid the shouts of the multitude, and was lowered slowly by a hawser to where Ebert clung to the raft. Now is the time for the youth to summon all his energies. In another moment he expects to grasp the side of the life-boat and be saved. He casts off the lashings by which he is held to the raft. The spectators restrain their breath with the intensity of their anxiety. Will the boat reach him, or be dashed to pieces in those fiercely agitated waters? She floats! she floats! She touches the raft itself. Ebert sees her-the courage for which he has been so conspicuous throughout the terrible day revives within him. A shout of joy is heardall think that he is in safety. He springs up, and leaps towards the boat. What means that cry of horror which escapes from the crowd? Alas! he has missed his aim—
the boat sheers away from him, and he falls headlong into the current. Still he is not lost; he rises to the surfacehe strikes out boldly-his foot touches a rock-he springs with the last efforts of despair towards the shore, making three or four almost superhuman leaps; as many more and he will be safe; but alas! the water deepens-again he swims he swims strongly in spite of all his exertions. Life is sweet, and Ebert has life, and youth, and strength. He seems even to make way against that headlong tide. It is but for a moment-the waters are too mighty for him his strength, begins to fail-his strokes grow feeblerslowly he recedes from the shore-his straining eyeballs fixed on those who would save him but cannot. Now he is borne backward into the fiercer part of the current. All hope has fled-swiftly and more swiftly he is dragged on towards the brink of that terrific precipice. His fellow men standing around sicken at the sight. Still he struggles -still full of life and energy he reaches the very edge; and then, as if to gain one more look at the fair world he is about to leave, he springs almost out of the water-bis arms raised frantically above his head; then, uttering one last fearful shriek, heard even above the ceaseless roar of the cataract, he falls backward, and the next instant is hidden for ever from human ken, amid those madly foaming waters rushing downwards with terrific force into an ever seething cauldron below. Slowly and sadly the spectators separated. A fellow mortal had gone from among them.
Such was the account I heard from one who had witnessed the harrowing spectacle while I stood gazing on the spot where it had occurred; and so vividly did I picture it to myself, that I felt as if I had been among the crowd who watched young Ebert hurrying to destruction.
Sinner, have you ever been exposed to a danger as terrific as that which young Ebert did not escape? Have you ever, like him and his companions, allowed yourself to become so absorbed in the pursuit of worldly projects that you have given no thought to the future? that you did not for a moment consider in what direction you were drifting? that you thought not of God? that you put no trust in him? that your salvation was a matter of indifference to you? that you had no love for Christ-no gratitude-no faith-no love-no desire to do his will-to be with him for ever and ever? How is it with you now? Are you trifling close to some rapids which may carry you away
to destruction? If you are, awake ere it be too late. Repent, and cry to Jesus to save you.
Perhaps, as you read the above account, you have felt a thrilling interest in the fate of young Ebert. Surely you would have felt it had you witnessed the scene, and you would have used every exertion to save him; and yet, have you not often seen your fellow-creatures hurrying on to a destruction far more terrible-the destruction of their souls? What efforts have you made to save them? What efforts are you making? What, none? Is not the immortal soul of infinitely more value than the mortal body? "What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" Look around you—thousands upon thousands are drifting to destruction. Endeavour to arrest all you can in their course. You would risk your life to save that of a fellow-creature. Will you draw back when that fellow-creature's soul is in peril? As you hope to have peace at the last, use every exertion-employ all means public and private by which sinners may be turned from their evil ways and be brought to trust in Christ. If you have no desire to save the souls of others, tremble for the safety of your own. There is not a surer sign that a man is not right towards God than when he has no care for the souls of others. It is a right question to ask, Who among that vast crowd thought of young Ebert's soul? Interested by his youth, his strength, his courage, valuing their own lives, it was in the preservation of his mortal life alone that great mass were occupied. Strange, senseless being that man is! What a high value does he place on the perishing body, and how utterly does he disregard the immortal soul!
I was once endeavouring to obtain support for an im portant missionary work from a naval officer, whom I found fitting out a beautiful boat near — harbour. "I can do nothing for you, sir," he replied. "I have given myself up to boat-building, and think of nothing else." were the exact words in which he couched his reply. Oh, reader! do not allow yourself to say this. As you think of young Ebert's fate, remember that countless numbers of your fellow-men are rushing headlong to a worse fate, endeavour by every means in your power to save some alive.
KITTY CARROLL; OR, TO THE UTTERMOST."
"Teach me, my God and King,
To do it as for thee."
THE sun shone brightly through the closet window upon Jim and Mary Edmonds the morning after their acquaintance with the little Carrolls; and Jim, springing out of bed, exclaimed, “Why, Mary, I do declare we have overslept ourselves; there's the clock striking six."
You don't say it, Jim!" said Mary, going into the adjoining room and discovering that Jim's statement was perfectly correct. 'Well, whenever have we done that before? Never mind, I'll have the fire lighted and the kettle boiling in no time."
"Never mind, Mary, about that; I'll try and run home for breakfast, and if I cannot, you will bring it along to me, I know."
"Yes, to be sure, Jim; but I do not like you to be going out these cold mornings without something: it's nigh October now, and the mornings are getting sharpish." And Mary bustled about and lighted her fire; but by the time Jim had put on his clothes and said his prayers, he declared he must not stay any longer, or the Venus" would be up, and he not in his place to help unload her.
Mary's fire soon burnt brightly, and the kettle sang its cheerful song; whilst she dusted and tidied up her little room, remembering the probable cause of their oversleeping themselves, in their being up so late the night before. "And Mrs. Carroll did not come home last night," thought Mary; "I wonder where she is; perhaps, poor thing, she's met with an accident. Mercy on us! what would become of the little ones? Well, they shall have some breakfast presently, and a good wash, too, or my name's not Mary Edmonds;" and the busy little woman made Jim's coffee, cut his breakfast and dinner (for her husband seldom came home to that meal), and put on her bonnet and shawl to carry it to the quay.
As she opened the street door to go out, a policeman came up and inquired of her if some children of the name of Carroll were living there? Mary said, "Yes," and asked if she should call them down to him; but he said, “No,” if