out attempting to land upon one, when I caught sight of a glimmering
light at a distance in the centre of the stream. I directed my course
towards this in preference; and I perceived as I approached that it
proceeded from a raft, moored off one of the islands, upon which the
crew were probably cooking their evening meal. I knew that if I
approached this raft in front, I should inevitably be sucked under,
and never see the light again; at the same time, if I gave it too wide
a berth, I should as surely be carried past it, in which case I felt
pretty certain that my last chance would be gone. I made a desperate
effort at the very nick of time, and happily succeeded in laying hold
of a rope, which was hanging in the water, by means of which I was
swung round to the stern of the raft, upon which, in a small
timber-hut, I could see the crew discussing their supper.

Now that the struggle was over, and my safety secure, all my courage
and strength too vanished at once: I felt as weak as a child, and as
pusillanimous as a woman, and the hot tears ran down my cheeks like
rain. It was as much as I could do to hail the men, who sat laughing
and chatting over their porridge not three yards from me, as I
clutched the rope with the energy of a drowning man. They started up
at the sound of my cry, and in an instant lifted me on board. They
were Germans, fortunately; and I gave them to understand in a few
words, that I had been bathing, and having been carried away by the
stream, had narrowly escaped drowning. I was in no humour to put them
in possession of my whole miserable adventure, which it is more than
probable they would not have credited if I had. Having rubbed myself
dry, one of them lent me a blouse, and offered me food, which, plain
as it was, I was but too glad to accept; but before I had eaten a
mouthful, an old man made his appearance, bearing slippers, cloak, and
cap, and invited me to follow him to his house upon the island, where
I might pass the night, and cross over to the mainland in the morning.
I followed him across a plank, and beneath the shadow of some
willow-trees, to his humble dwelling. He told me that he and his
family were the sole inhabitants of the island, and that he united the
three professions of fisherman, innkeeper, and rope-maker, and thus
managed to make a livelihood. His guests were almost exclusively the
navigators on the river, who frequently moored for the night off his
island, and partook of